He is Roweled of the Spur of Necessity
sown broadcast with the labels of hotels, 'railways and steamships.
O'Rourke went to it with a deep and heartfelt sigh, unlocked it, and for a space delved into its tumbled contents, eventually emerging flushed and triumphant from his search, with a watch in his hand—a watch of fine gold, richly chased, and studded with gems.
He shook his head, gazing upon it, and sighed deeply.
Long since the timepiece had been presented to O'Rourke by the grateful president of a South American republic, in recognition of the Irish adventurer's services as a captain-general under that republic's flag. It was so stated, in an inscription within the case.
O'Rourke treasured it lovingly, as he treasured the portrait of his mother, his love for the land of his nativity, the parting smile of his last sweetheart. He treasured it as he valued his honorable discharge from the Foreign Legion, the sword he had won in Cuba, and the captain's commission he had once held under the Grecian flag.
But—the rent!
He slammed his hat upon his head, the watch into his pocket, and the door behind him; he was going to call upon his "aunt in Montmartre."
When he returned he was minus the timepiece, but able to reinstate himself in the concierge's graces. Indeed, as she signed the receipt, the lady declared that she had always known in her soul that monsieur was an honorable gentleman.
O'Rourke accepted the honeyed words sourly, disgruntled to the extreme. He had a residue of a very few francs: actual hardship was but staved off for several days. Nevertheless, he had indulged himself in the luxury of a complete file of the day's papers.
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