Complete Works of Joseph Conrad (Illustrated) by CONRAD JOSEPH

Author:CONRAD, JOSEPH [CONRAD, JOSEPH]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Delphi Classics
Published: 2011-02-22T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

Schomberg felt desperation, that lamentable substitute for courage, ooze out of him. It was not so much the threat of death as the weirdly circumstantial manner of its declaration which affected him. A mere “I’ll murder you,” however ferocious in tone, and earnest, in purpose, he could have faced; but before this novel mode of speech and procedure, his imagination being very sensitive to the unusual, he collapsed as if indeed his moral neck had been broken — snap!

“Go to the police? Of course not. Never dreamed of it. Too late now. I’ve let myself be mixed up in this. You got my consent while I wasn’t myself. I explained it to you at the time.”

Ricardo’s eye glided gently off Schomberg to stare far away.

“Ay! Some trouble with a girl. But that’s nothing to us.”

“Naturally. What I say is, what’s the good of all that savage talk to me?” A bright argument occurred to him. “It’s out of proportion; for even if I were fool enough to go to the police now, there’s nothing serious to complain about. It would only mean deportation for you. They would put you on board the first west-bound steamer to Singapore.” He had become animated. “Out of this to the devil,” he added between his teeth for his own private satisfaction.

Ricardo made no comment, and gave no sign of having heard a single word. This discouraged Schomberg, who had looked up hopefully.

“Why do you want to stick here?” he cried. “It can’t pay you people to fool around like this. Didn’t you worry just now about moving your governor? Well, the police would move him for you; and from Singapore you can go on to the east coast of Africa.”

“I’ll be hanged if the fellow isn’t up to that silly trick!” was Ricardo’s comment, spoken in an ominous tone which recalled Schomberg to the realities of his position.

“No! No!” he protested. “It’s a manner of speaking. Of course I wouldn’t.”

“I think that trouble about the girl has really muddled your brains, Mr. Schomberg. Believe me, you had better part friends with us; for, deportation or no deportation, you’ll be seeing one of us turning up before long to pay you off for any nasty dodge you may be hatching in that fat head of yours.”

“Gott im Himmel!” groaned Schomberg. “Will nothing move him out? Will he stop here immer — I mean always? Suppose I were to make it worth your while, couldn’t you — ”

“No,” Ricardo interrupted. “I couldn’t, unless I had something to lever him out with. I’ve told you that before.”

“An inducement?” muttered Schomberg.

“Ay. The east coast of Africa isn’t good enough. He told me the other day that it will have to wait till he is ready for it; and he may not be ready for a long time, because the east coast can’t run away, and no one is likely to run off with it.”

These remarks, whether considered as truisms or as depicting Mr. Jones’s mental state, were

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