Why, it's plain as
print. They are criminals escaping. The Englishman certainly is
escaping."
I was concerned only for the lovely lady, but I asked: "You mean the
Irishman called Stumps?"
"Stumps!" exclaimed Kinney. "What a strange name. Too strange to be
true. It's an alias!" I was incensed that Kinney should charge the
friends of the lovely lady with being criminals. Had it been any one
else I would have at once resented it, but to be angry with Kinney is
difficult. I could not help but remember that he is the slave of his own
imagination. It plays tricks and runs away with him. And if it leads him
to believe innocent people are criminals, it also leads him to believe
that every woman in the Subway to whom he gives his seat is a great
lady, a leader of society on her way to work in the slums.
"Joe!" I protested. "Those men aren't criminals. I talked to that
Irishman, and he hasn't sense enough to be a criminal."
"The railroads are watched," repeated Kinney. "Do _honest_ men care a
darn whether the railroad is watched or not? Do you care? Do I care? And
did you notice how angry the American got when he found Stumps talking
with you?"
I had noticed it; and I also recalled the fact that Stumps had said to
the lovely lady: "He told me I could come on deck as soon as we
started.
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