What I shall always
regret is that I didn't kill him, too. I could have done it without any
extra trouble then; now it's too late. Great nuisance; but he's useful
sometimes. I hope you are not going to put all this in your book?"
The offhand, hard manner and the contemptuous tone of "plain Mr. Jones"
disconcerted Schomberg utterly. He had never been spoken to like this
in his life. He shook his head in silence and withdrew, not exactly
scared--though he was in reality of a timid disposition under his manly
exterior--but distinctly mystified and impressed.
CHAPTER FIVE
Three weeks later, after putting his cash-box away in the safe which
filled with its iron bulk a corner of their room, Schomberg turned
towards his wife, but without looking at her exactly, and said:
"I must get rid of these two. It won't do!"
Mrs. Schomberg had entertained that very opinion from the first; but she
had been broken years ago into keeping her opinions to herself. Sitting
in her night attire in the light of a single candle, she was careful not
to make a sound, knowing from experience that her very assent would be
resented. With her eyes she followed the figure of Schomberg, clad in
his sleeping suit, and moving restlessly about the room.
He never glanced her way, for the reason that Mrs. Schomberg, in
her night attire, looked the most unattractive object in
existence--miserable, insignificant, faded, crushed, old.
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