He sat placidly there, content to be
disregarded and hoping for some chance word to turn up. I shouldn't
wonder if the good fellow hadn't been dozing. It's difficult to give you
an adequate idea of Davidson's placidity.
Presently Schomberg, wandering about, joined a party that had taken the
table next to Davidson's.
"A man like that Swede, gentlemen, is a public danger," he began. "I
remember him for years. I won't say anything of his spying--well, he
used to say himself he was looking for out-of-the-way facts and what is
that if not spying? He was spying into everybody's business. He got hold
of Captain Morrison, squeezed him dry, like you would an orange, and
scared him off to Europe to die there. Everybody knows that Captain
Morrison had a weak chest. Robbed first and murdered afterwards! I don't
mince words--not I. Next he gets up that swindle of the Belt Coal. You
know all about it. And now, after lining his pockets with other people's
money, he kidnaps a white girl belonging to an orchestra which is
performing in my public room for the benefit of my patrons, and goes
off to live like a prince on that island, where nobody can get at him. A
damn silly girl . . . It's disgusting--tfui!"
He spat. He choked with rage--for he saw visions, no doubt. He jumped up
from his chair, and went away to flee from them--perhaps.
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