affair was dismissed in three lines, and although as De Kock swore,
the case was one for Gaboriau, it certainly was not our business to
look into it and in fact in a week's time I was back in Canada, and
he up to his eyes in commercial pursuits. The main point remained
clear, however, that Martinetti did _not_ come back, nor was he found,
or traced or ever heard of again. Somebody took the business out of
hand, as they say, and De Kock would occasionally write a P. S. to
his letters like this--"Dined at poor Martinetti's, Chiante as usual.
Ever yours." Or it would be--"Drank to the production of your last
new comedy at Martinetti's." Once he stated that shortly after that
memorable night Madame disappeared also, taking the parrot along.
"I begin to think they are a pair of deep ones and up to some big
game" he wrote. For myself, I never entirely forgot the circumstance,
although it was but once vividly recalled to my mind and that was in
a theatre in Montreal. An American company from one of the New York
theatres was performing some farcical comedy or other in which
occurred the comic song, admirably sung and acted by Miss Kate
Castleton, "For goodness sake don't say I told you!" The
reminiscences forced upon me quite spoiled my enjoyment; I could see
that pale, nervous woman, hear her screams, and hear too the fearful
voice of the poor parrot. Where is it now, thought I? That same
winter I was much occupied in making studies of the different
classes of people among the French-Canadians. The latter turn up
everywhere in Montreal, and have a distinct "local color" about them
which I was curious to get and hope to preserve for use some future
day. I went everywhere and talked to everybody who might be of use
to me; cabmen, porters, fruit dealers and tobacconists. I found much
to interest me in the various Catholic institutions, and I was above
all very fond of visiting the large, ugly gray building with the air
of a penitentiary about it called the Grey Nunnery. Going through