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.
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