And Schomberg tapped his manly breast. I sat half stunned by his
irrelevant babble. Suddenly he gripped my forearm in an impressive and
cautious manner, as if to lead me into a very cavern of confidence.

"It's nothing but enviousness," he said in a lowered tone, which had a
stimulating effect upon my wearied hearing. "I don't suppose there
is one person in this town that he isn't envious of. I tell you he's
dangerous. Even I myself am not safe from him. I know for certain he
tried to poison . . . ."

"Oh, come now," I cried, revolted.

"But I know for certain. The people themselves came and told me of it.
He went about saying everywhere I was a worse pest to this town than the
cholera. He had been talking against me ever since I opened this hotel.
And he poisoned Captain Hermann's mind too. Last time the Diana was
loading here Captain Hermann used to come in every day for a drink or a
cigar. This time he hasn't been here twice in a week. How do you account
for that?"

He squeezed my arm till he extorted from me some sort of mumble.

"He makes ten times the money I do. I've another hotel to fight against,
and there is no other tug on the river. I am not in his way, am I? He
wouldn't be fit to run an hotel if he tried. But that's just his nature.
He can't bear to think I am making a living. I only hope it makes him
properly wretched. He's like that in everything. He would like to keep a
decent table well enough. But no--for the sake of a few cents. Can't do
it. It's too much for him. That's what I call being a slave to it. But