THE LUCK OF THE IRISH
We grew up together; but you were hard and I was soft. You never let cards and wine get the best of you, nor any woman, for that matter. Devil a bit do I care which way it goes; I'll go on with it. I need money. And the job you offer me is the only kind left for a polecat like myself."
"Moralizing, eh?"
"No, I used to moralize. I do still when I've just got over a bender. Bad as I am, there's a white corner or two sticking around in my soul; and I don't like the looks of this deal. It doesn't look successful."
"Leave that end of it to me. I'll break your Gerry Owen, and then I'll break the girl. Break her like that!" Colburton closed his fists and struck them against his knees.
"Then you only want to break her?" asked the jackal, curiously. "You're not mad about her any more, then?"
"What's that to you?"
"Nothing, m' lord, nothing. But you might lower your tone a little. I don't like it."
Colburton plucked at his mustache. "Has she made any attempt to dispose of it?"
"No. She's a woman. She's probably deathly afraid by now. What 'll I do to Grogan?"
"Leave him to me. The yacht will be off the jetty at ten. You go aboard of her. You'll find your trunks in your old cabin. We go straight to Ceylon. From there to Perak, where I'm going to do a little hunting."
"That's a long time to wait."
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