|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 15
On the way down the plank Haggerty mused: "An' I thought I had a hunch!"
Thomas sighed. "Play your game above board; it pays." Into what a
labyrinth of lies he was wayfaring!
That same night, on the other side of the Atlantic, the ninth Baron of
Dimbledon sailed for America to rehabilitate his fortunes. He did and
he didn't.
CHAPTER VI
Thomas was a busy man up to and long after the hour of sailing. His
cabins were filled with about all the variant species of the race: two
nervous married women with their noisy mismanaged children, three young
men on a lark, and an actress who was paying her husband's expenses and
gladly announced the fact over and through the partitions. Three bells
tingled all day long, and the only thing that saved Thomas from the
"sickbay" was the fact that the bar closed at eleven. And a rough
passage added to his labors. No Henley this voyage, no comfy loafing
about the main-deck in the sunshine. A busy, miserable, dejected young
man, who cursed his folly and yet clung to it with that tenacity which
makes prejudice England's first-born.
Night after night, stretched out wearily on his bunk, the sordid
picture of Lumpy Joe's returned to him. By a hair's breadth! It was
always a source of amazement to recall how quickly and shrewdly his
escape had been managed. He felt reasonably safe. Jameson would never
dare tell what he knew, to incriminate himself for the sake of revenge.
To have got the best of him and to have pulled the wool over the eyes
of a keen American detective!
In Liverpool he deliberately threw away a full sovereign in
motion-pictures and music-halls. But he drank nothing, not even his
customary ale. Not so long ago he had tasted his first champagne; very
expensive, something more than two hundred pounds. Stupid ass! And
yet . . . The very life he had always been longing for, dreaming of,
behind his counters: to be free, to rove at will, to seek adventure.
"Then," said Sir Tristram, "I will fight with you unto the uttermost."
"I grant," said Sir Palomides, "for in a better quarrel keep I never to
fight, for and I die of your hands, of a better knight's hands may I
not be slain." . . .
Off for America again; and the Book of Marvelous Adventures, to be
opened wide by a pair of Irish blue eyes, deep as the sea, glancing as
the sunlight on its crests.
"You are my steward, I believe?"
In his soul of souls Thomas hoped so. "Yes, miss--indeed, yes, if you
occupy this cabin."
"Here are the tickets"; and the young lady signed the slip of paper he
gave her: Mr. and Mrs. Daniel Killigrew, Miss Killigrew and maid. "I
shall probably keep you very busy." There was a twinkle in her eyes,
but he was English and did not see it.
"That is what I am here for, miss." He smiled reassuringly.
"Never ask my father if he wishes tea and toast"--gravely.
"Yes, miss"--with honest gravity. Thomas knew nothing of women, young
or old. With the habits and tastes of the male biped he was tolerably
familiar. He was to learn.
"Hot water-bottles for my mother every night, and a pot of chocolate
for myself. I shall always have my breakfast early in the saloon. I'm
a first-rate sailor."
A rush, a whir.
"Kitty, you darling! They have put us on the other side of the ship."
Thomas was genuinely glad of it. With a goddess and a nymph to wait
upon, heaven knew how many broken dishes he'd have to account for.
Never in the park, never after the matinees, never in all wide London,
had he seen two such lovely types: Titian and Greuse.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|