“You will find a lot of gentlemen out there who have already decided for themselves,--and very cheerfully, too. You will not be lonely. If you desire any further information as to the class of labourers you will come in contact with, Mr. Nicklestick, I would suggest a careful study of the first cabin list, the second cabin list, and finally the third cabin list, if you can find such a thing. You will also run up against some excellent material from the United States Navy, to say nothing of a fine lot of able seamen. They've adopted a common name. Do you know what they call each other?”
“No,” said Nicklestick, wiping his brow. “Vat--vat do they call each other?”
He was followed closely by Careni-Amori and Olga Obosky, and at some distance by the whispering, gesticulating Jews. The great soprano was profoundly agitated. Obosky, a pace or two behind her, was tense and silent. Her head was slightly bent. There was a strange, dog-like expression in her eyes as they regarded the back of Percival's head.
“But what will you do?” Careni-Amori was crying, as she clutched his arm. “He is a great man. He is a millionaire. He owns part of this steamship line,--so he have inform me. You will not throw him into the water,--yes?”
“As sure as you are a foot high, Madame Careni-Amori,” said he, grimly.
“Oh, mon Dieu! You hear him, Obosky? He means what he have say.”
“Be careful, my friend,” said Obosky, drawing alongside of Percival. “Do you not see how the wind blows?”
“Have you count the cost of victory? You may lose more than you will gain.”
Percival looked at her intently for a moment; then, in a flash, the meaning of her words was revealed to him.
“Even so, Madame Obosky,” he returned, his jaw setting, “I am a good loser.”
“The spoils do not always go to the victor,” she warned him.
“I still have your luck-piece,” said he, smiling as he slapped his trousers-leg.
“It has always brought me luck,” she said, looking straight into his eyes. “It may continue to do so, who knows? Alas for you, my friend, you may yet have to turn to me for consolation. It is the ill-wind that blows nobody good. Am I not shocking, Mr. Percivail?”
They had lost Madame Careni-Amori, who was behind them, shrieking a command through a port-hole to her maid.