from Tiger Rag: A Novel by Nicholas Christopher:
Walking back down Julia Street, his hands shaking, Guideau knew he had found his man. He couldn’t prove it yet, but he knew. But what would Johnson do now? Why would he want to keep the cylinder? And why has it become a point of honor for me to win the respect of a man like Zahn, who doesn’t respect me in the first place? Maybe I am mad, like my uncle who failed at everything, but was convinced if he murdered the president he could become president. When they hanged him, he was sure the spectators loved him, that he was a hero. He ruined my father’s life, and my brothers’, dirt farmers who lost everything and had to leave Ohio. I ran away first, changed that one letter in my name which maybe I should’ve changed altogether, and here I am, tired of running. I’m no murderer, but up to now I’ve been a failure, like my uncle. Up to now. Because if that damn cylinder is so hot, I’ll keep it for myself.
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