I Could Not Even Muster Up A Spasm Of The
Spine When A Member Of Our Party Leaned Over And Whispered In My
Ear That Any One Of These Gentry Roundabout Us Would Cheerfully
Cut A Man's Throat For Twenty-Five Cents.
I was surprised, though,
at the moderation of the cost; this was the only cheap thing I had
struck in Paris.
It was cheaper even than the same job is supposed
to be in the district round Chatham Square, on the East Side of
New York, where the credulous stranger so frequently is told that
he can have a plain murder done for five dollars - or a fancy
murder, with trimmings, for ten; rate card covering other jobs on
application. In America, however, it has been my misfortune that
I did not have the right amount handy; and here in Paris I was
handicapped by my inability to make change correctly. By now I
would not have trusted anyone in Paris to make change for me - not
even an Apache. I was sorry for this, for at a quarter a head I
should have been very glad to engage a troupe of Apaches to kill
me about two dollars' worth of cabdrivers and waiters. For one
of the waiters at our hotel I would have been willing to pay as
much as fifty cents, provided they killed him very slowly. Because
of the reasons named, however, I had to come away without making
any deal, and I have always regretted it.
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