THE LUCK OF THE IRISH
socialistic ideas. But he hated the Elsa, not because she was beyond his possession or represented one of the higher forms of luxury: she was a little kingdom which, to a certain extent, was beyond the reach of man's laws, ruled by a scoundrel whose lightest whim, right or wrong, was the only law. He could not help wondering how many women had cried their hearts out, too late, behind those glistening ports.
For an hour or more he watched the launch which bobbed at the foot of the ladder. He hoped Camden or Colburton, or both, would come ashore. He would speak to them civilly; and if they accepted his warning. … But would words mean anything? What was he to either but scum underfoot? They would either lie easily or ignore him and pass on. If he fought them and beat them—which is what really appealed to his present mood—there would be the infernal British law again. Bombay, Calcutta, Rangoon, Singapore, Hong-Kong, all British ports; he was only a lone red-headed Irishman, while yonder man was a millionaire. It wouldn't be worth his while to beat them up and go to jail for it like a drunken sailor. He was literally surrounded by blind alleys.
They were following Ruth. There was nothing arguable about this conclusion. They had not given up the chase simply because they had failed to dispose of the only guardian the girl had. Colburton was rich; he had all the leisure in the world; he could abide his time.
William could understand certain phases of
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