looker-on took contact with things he attracted
attention. First, it was the Morrison partnership of mystery, then
came the great sensation of the Tropical Belt Coal where indeed varied
interests were involved: a real business matter. And then came this
elopement, this incongruous phenomenon of self-assertion, the greatest
wonder of all, astonishing and amusing.

Davidson admitted to me that, the hubbub was subsiding; and the affair
would have been already forgotten, perhaps, if that ass Schomberg
had not kept on gnashing his teeth publicly about it. It was really
provoking that Davidson should not be able to give one some idea of the
girl. Was she pretty? He didn't know. He had stayed the whole afternoon
in Schomberg's hotel, mainly for the purpose of finding out something
about her. But the story was growing stale. The parties at the tables on
the veranda had other, fresher, events to talk about and Davidson shrank
from making direct inquiries. He sat placidly there, content to be
disregarded and hoping for some chance word to turn up. I shouldn't
wonder if the good fellow hadn't been dozing. It's difficult to give you
an adequate idea of Davidson's placidity.

Presently Schomberg, wandering about, joined a party that had taken the
table next to Davidson's.

"A man like that Swede, gentlemen, is a public danger," he began. "I
remember him for years. I won't say anything of his spying--well, he
used to say himself he was looking for out-of-the-way facts and what is
that if not spying? He was spying into everybody's business. He got hold
of Captain Morrison, squeezed him dry, like you would an orange, and
scared him off to Europe to die there. Everybody knows that Captain
Morrison had a weak chest. Robbed first and murdered afterwards! I don't
mince words--not I. Next he gets up that swindle of the Belt Coal. You
know all about it. And now, after lining his pockets with other people's
money, he kidnaps a white girl belonging to an orchestra which is
performing in my public room for the benefit of my patrons, and goes
off to live like a prince on that island, where nobody can get at him. A
damn silly girl . . . It's disgusting--tfui!"

He spat. He choked with rage--for he saw visions, no doubt. He jumped up
from his chair, and went away to flee from them--perhaps. He went into
the room where Mrs. Schomberg sat. Her aspect could not have been very
soothing to the sort of torment from which he was suffering.

Davidson