THE LUCK OF THE IRISH
ably at this moment comfortably arranging her affairs at Raffles, or was at the cable office, awaiting the message she knew would come.
The long wireless was despatched, and around nine o'clock came the reply. It stated briefly that the consul-general had seen nothing of Miss Warren (for William had given Ruth's real name), that there was no yacht named Elsa in the harbor, that no one by the name of Colburton or Camden was registered at any of the hotels, that the police machinery had been set in motion, and that as soon as the consul-general heard of Miss Warren's whereabouts a wire would be sent.
"Can't you see now?" cried William. "She hasn't turned up; they can't find her. I tell you she's been abducted!"
The wireless had dissipated a good deal of the captain's confidence. "But white men!"
"Haven't I been hammering at you that only their skins are white? But, by Heaven! they'll be whiter when I meet up with them, damn them!"
"Not so loud, not so loud!" warned the captain. "Buck up! There's only one thing you can do, Mr. Grogan, and that's to wait. Make up your mind to that. And don't let the ship see how you take it."
"A lot I care what they think!" said William.
So he settled down to wait, and joined that body of miserables who are individually designated Tantalus and Prometheus, only it was time the gods dangled before his eyes, while the eagle tore at his heart.
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