In the midst of them there was a cart with a man in it—and that man was Jack—my son Jack—they were going to hang him. I'm a bit daffy about music. I'm crazy over music, too. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. She gasped with pain, but she did not release her grip. Giles's, and other places—but I've nowhere seen any one who came up so completely to my notion of a first-rate housebreaker as the individual before us. Most subjects of any depth were taboo between them, especially when they were in his convertible.
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