CHAPTER XIV.
FIND THE WOMAN The watch, slipping from the clock-mender's hand, spun like a coin on the counter, while the clock-mender himself, his eyes bulging, his jaw dangling, it might be said, staggered back upon his stool.
"So this is the end ?" he said in a kind of mutter.
"The end of what ?" demanded the owner of the watch.
"Of all my labors, to me and to what little I have left!" "Fiddlesticks! I am here for no purpose regarding you, my comrade.

So far as I am concerned, your secret is as dead as it ever was.

I had a fancy that you were living in Paris." "Paris! _Gott!_ For seventeen, eighteen years I have traveled hither and thither, always on some false clue.

Never a band of Gipsies I heard of that I did not seek them out.

Nothing, nothing! You will never know what I have gone through, and uselessly, to prove my innocence.