they was. Every little stone bes worth more nor all the fore-and-afters
on the coast. I bes a rich man now--richer nor the governor, richer nor
any marchant in St. John's--richer nor the king o' England, maybe. Holy
saints be praised! Never agin will I wet a line at the fishin' nor feel
the ache o' hunger in my belly. Denny Nolan will soon be cursin' the day
he batted me about like a swile."

His plans for the immediate future were clear in his mind but for the
more distant future they were vague, though rosy. He would make the ten
miles to Brig Tickle in less than three hours, and from there turn a
point or two westward from the coast and strike across country to the
head of Witless Bay. He had a cousin in Witless Bay and could afford to
rest in that cousin's house for a few hours. There he would hire a team
of dogs and make the next stage in quick time. Dennis Nolan, who would
not discover the theft of the diamonds until after sun-up, would be left
hopelessly astern by that time. So Quinn figured it out. On reaching St.
John's he would go to a shebeen that he knew, in a narrow and secluded
back street, and there rent a room. Then he would commence the business
of disposing of one of the diamonds. Just how he was to go about this he
did not know, but he felt sure that Mother McKay, who kept the shebeen,
would be able to give him some valuable advice on the subject. And after
that? Well, the prospects were rosy but vague. He would get word to his
wife in some way to move herself and the children to Witless Bay. He
would send her twenty dollars, and after that, for the rest of his life,
ten good dollars every month. As for himself, he would sail away to some
big city "up-along"--to Boston, New York or London--dispose of the
necklace stone by stone, buy a great house and live in idle luxury. He
would dress like a merchant, eat hearty every day, drink deep and sleep
warm. He had heard of such things--of men who never set their hands to a
stroke of work from year's end to year's end. He would live like a king