Schomberg
listened to him in wonder. It looked as if the very scoundrelism, of
that--that Swede would protect him; the spoil of his iniquity standing
between the thief and the retribution.
"That's so, old buck." Ricardo broke the silence after contemplating
Schomberg's mute dejection with a sort of sympathy. "I don't think this
trick will work."
"But that's silly," whispered the man deprived of the vengeance which he
had seemed already to hold in his hand, by a mysterious and exasperating
idiosyncrasy.
"Don't you set yourself to judge a gentleman." Ricardo without anger
administered a moody rebuke. "Even I can't understand the governor
thoroughly. And I am an Englishman and his follower. No, I don't think I
care to put it before him, sick as I am of staying here."
Ricardo could not be more sick of staying than Schomberg was of seeing
him stay. Schomberg believed so firmly in the reality of Heyst as
created by his own power of false inferences, of his hate, of his love
of scandal, that he could not contain a stifled cry of conviction
as sincere as most of our convictions, the disguised servants of our
passions, can appear at a supreme moment.
"It would have been like going to pick up a nugget of a thousand pounds,
or two or three times as much, for all I know. No trouble, no--"
"The petticoat's the trouble," Ricardo struck in.
Pages:
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207