The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. Jack and his comrade went to the Mint, where he was joined by Edgeworth Bess, with whom he sat down most unconcernedly to supper. There were three exit doors. "What has put it into your head that your son yet lives?" he asked. It did not matter in the least what name the young fellow was travelling under; all James Boyle O'Higgins wanted was the letter H.
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