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diff --git a/27339.txt b/27339.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1b03abb --- /dev/null +++ b/27339.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8002 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Pagan Madonna, by Harold MacGrath + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Pagan Madonna + +Author: Harold MacGrath + +Illustrator: W. H. D. Koerner + +Release Date: November 27, 2008 [EBook #27339] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PAGAN MADONNA *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +BOOKS BY HAROLD MACGRATH + +ADVENTURES OF KATHLYN +ARMS AND THE WOMAN +BEST MAN +CARPET FROM BAGDAD +DEUCES WILD +ENCHANTED HAT +GOOSE GIRL +HALF A ROGUE +HEARTS AND MASKS +LUCK OF THE IRISH: A ROMANCE +LURE OF THE MASK +MILLION DOLLAR MYSTERY +PARROT & CO. +PIDGIN ISLAND +PLACE OF HONEYMOONS +PRINCESS ELOPES +PUPPET CROWN +SPLENDID HAZARD +THE DRUMS OF JEOPARDY +THE GIRL IN HIS HOUSE +THE GREY CLOAK +THE MAN ON THE BOX +THE MAN WITH THREE NAMES +THE PAGAN MADONNA +THE PRIVATE WIRE TO WASHINGTON +THE YELLOW TYPHOON +VOICE OF THE FOG + + + + +[Illustration: "'Thank you for coming up,' said Cunningham. 'It makes me +feel that you trust me.'"] + + + + +THE +PAGAN MADONNA + +BY +HAROLD MacGRATH + +FRONTISPIECE +BY +W. H. D. KOERNER + +GARDEN CITY, N. Y., AND TORONTO +DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY +1921 + + + + +COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY + +DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY + +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION +INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN + +COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY + + + + +THE PAGAN MADONNA + +CHAPTER I + + +Humdrum isn't where you live; it's what you are. Perhaps you are one of +those whose lives are bound by neighbourly interests. Imaginatively, you +never seek what lies under a gorgeous sunset; you are never stirred by any +longing to investigate the ends of rainbows. You are more concerned by +what your neighbour does every day than by what he might do if he were +suddenly spun, whirled, jolted out of his poky orbit. The blank door of an +empty house never intrigues you; you enter blind alleys without thrilling +in the least; you hear a cry in the night and impute it to some marauding +tom. Lord, what a life! + +And yet every move you make is governed by Chance--the Blind Madonna of +the Pagan, as that great adventurer, Stevenson, called it. You never +stop to consider that it is only by chance that you leave home and arrive +at the office alive--millions and millions of you--poor old +stick-in-the-muds! Because this or that hasn't happened to you, you +can't be made to believe that it might have happened to someone else. +What's a wood fire to you but a shin warmer? And how you hate to walk +alone! So sheer off--this is not for you. + +But to you, fenced in by circumstance, walls of breathless brick and +stone, suffocating with longing, you whose thought springs ever toward the +gorgeous sunset and the ends of rainbows; who fly in dreams across the +golden south seas to the far countries, you whose imagination transforms +every ratty old square-rigger that pokes down the bay into a Spanish +galleon--come with me. + + For to admire an' for to see, + For to be'old this world so wide. + +First off, Ling Foo, of Woosung Road, perhaps the most bewildered Chinaman +in all Shanghai last April. The Blind Madonna flung him into a great game +and immediately cast him out of it, giving him never an inkling of what +the game was about and leaving him buffeted by the four winds of wonder. + +A drama--he was sure of that--had rolled up, touched him icily if +slightly, and receded, like a wave on the beach, without his knowing in +the least what had energized it in his direction. During lulls, for years +to come, Ling Foo's consciousness would strive to press behind the wall +for a key to the riddle; for years to come he would be searching the +International Bund, Nanking Road, Broadway and Bubbling Well roads for the +young woman with the wonderful ruddy hair and the man who walked with the +sluing lurch. + +Ah, but that man--the face of him, beautiful as that of a foreign boy's, +now young, now old, as though a cobweb shifted to and fro across it! The +fire in those dark eyes and the silk on that tongue! Always that face +would haunt him, because it should not have been a man's but a woman's. +Ling Foo could not go to his gods for comparisons, for a million +variations of Buddha offered no such countenance; so his recollection +would always be tinged with a restless sense of dissatisfaction. + +There were other faces in the picture, but with the exception of the +woman's and the man's he could not reassemble the features of any. + +A wild and bitter night. The nor'easter, packed with a cold, penetrating +rain, beat down from the Yellow Sea, its insensate fury clearing the +highways of all save belated labourers and 'ricksha boys. Along the +Chinese Bund the sampans huddled even more closely together, and rocked +and creaked and complained. The inscrutable countenance of the average +Chinaman is the result of five thousand years of misery. It was a night +for hand warmers--little jigsawed brass receptacles filled with smoldering +punk or charcoal, which you carried in your sleeves and hugged if you +happened to be a Chinaman, as Ling Foo was. + +He was a merchant. He sold furs, curios, table linen, embroideries. His +shop was out on the Woosung Road. He did not sit on his stool or in his +alcove and wait for customers. He made packs of his merchandise and +canvassed the hotels in the morning, from floor to floor, from room to +room. His curios, however, he left in the shop. That was his lure to bring +his hotel customers round in the afternoon, when there were generally +additional profits and no commissions. This, of course, had been the +_modus operandi_ in the happy days before 1914, when white men began the +slaughter of white men. Nowadays Ling Foo was off to the Astor House the +moment he had news of a ship dropping anchor off the bar twelve miles down +the Whangpoo River. The hour no longer mattered; the point was to beat his +competitors to the market--and often there was no market. + +He did not call the white people foreign devils; he called them customers. +That they worshipped a bearded Buddha was no concern of his. Born in the +modern town, having spent twelve years in San Francisco, he was not +heavily barnacled with tradition. He was shrewd, a suave bargainer, and +as honest as the day is long. His English was fluent. + +To-night he was angry with the fates. The ship was hours late. Moreover, +it was a British transport, dropping down from Vladivostok. He would be +wasting his time to wait for such passengers as came ashore. They would be +tired and hungry and uncomfortable. So at seven o'clock he lit a piece of +punk, dropped it into his hand warmer, threw his pack over his shoulders, +and left the cheery lobby of the hotel where he had been waiting since +five in the afternoon. He would be cold and wet and hungry when he reached +his shop. + +Outside he called to a disconsolate 'ricksha boy, and a moment later +rattled across the bridge that spans the Soochow Creek. Even the Sikh +policeman had taken to cover. When he finally arrived home he was drenched +from his cap button to the wooden soles of his shoes. He unlocked the shop +door, entered, flung the pack on the floor, and turned on the electric +light. Twenty minutes later he was in dry clothes; hot rice, bean curd, +and tea were warming him; and he sat cross-legged in a little alcove +behind his till, smoking his metal pipe. Two or three puffs, then he would +empty the ash in a brass bowl. He repeated this action half a dozen times. +He was emptying the ash for the last time when the door opened violently +and a man lurched in, hatless and apparently drunk--a white man. + +But instantly Ling Foo saw that the man was not drunk. Blood was streaming +down his face, which was gray with terror and agony. The man made a +desperate effort to save himself from falling, and dragged a pile of +embroidered jackets to the floor as he went down. + +Ling Foo did not stir. It was not possible for him to move. The suddenness +of the spectacle had disconnected thought from action. He saw all this, +memorized it, even speculated upon it; but he could not move. + +The door was still open. The rain slanted across the black oblong space. +He saw it strike the windows, pause, then trickle down. He could not see +what had become of the man; the counter intervened. A tingle ran through +Ling Foo's body, and he knew that his brain had gained control of his body +again. But before this brain could telegraph to his legs three men rushed +into the shop. A bubble of sound came into Ling Foo's throat--one of those +calls for help that fear smothers. + +The three men disappeared instantly below the counter rim. Silence, except +for the voices of the rain and the wind. Ling Foo, tensely, even +painfully alive now, waited. He was afraid, and it was perfectly logical +fear. Perhaps they had not noticed him in the alcove. So he waited for +this fantastic drama to end. + +The three men rose in unison. Ling Foo saw that they were carrying the +fourth between them. The man who carried the head and shoulders of the +victim--for Ling Foo was now certain that murder was abroad--limped oddly, +with a heave and a sluing twist. Ling Foo slid off his cushion and stepped +round the counter in time to see the night absorb the back of the man who +limped. He tried to recall the face of the man, but could not. His initial +terror had drawn for him three white patches where faces should have +been. + +For several minutes Ling Foo stared at the oblong blackness; then with a +hysterical gurgle he ran to the door, slammed and bolted it, and leaned +against the jamb, sick and faint, yet oddly relieved. He would not now +have to account to the police for the body of an unknown white man. + +A queer business. Nothing exciting ever happened along this part of +Woosung Road. What he had witnessed--it still wasn't quite +believable--belonged to the water front. Things happened there, for these +white sailors were a wild lot. + +When the vertigo went out of his legs, Ling Foo cat-stepped over to the +scattered embroidered jackets and began mechanically to replace them on +the counter--all but two, for these were speckled with blood. He +contemplated them for a space, and at last picked them up daintily and +tossed them into a far corner. When the blood dried he would wash them out +himself. + +But there was that darkening stain on the floor. That would have to be +washed out at once or it would be crying up to him eternally and recasting +the tragic picture. So he entered the rear of the shop and summoned his +wife. Meekly she obeyed his order and scrubbed the stain. Her beady little +black eyes were so tightly lodged in her head that it was not possible for +her to elevate her brows in surprise. But she knew that this stain was +blood. + +Ling Foo solemnly waved her aside when the task was done, and she +slip-slapped into the household dungeon out of which she had emerged. + +Her lord and master returned to his alcove. Ah, but the pipe was good! He +rocked slightly as he smoked. Three pipefuls were reduced to ashes; then +he wriggled off the cushion, picked up his cash counter and began +slithering the buttons back and forth; not because there were any profits +or losses that day, but because it gave a welcome turn to his thoughts. + +The storm raged outside. Occasionally he felt the floor shudder. The +windows ran thickly with rain. The door rattled. It was as if all objects +inanimate were demanding freedom from bolts and nails. With the tip of his +long, slender finger Ling Foo moved the buttons. He counted what his +profits would be in Manchurian sables; in the two Ming vases that had come +in mysteriously from Kiao-chau--German loot from Peking; counted his +former profits in snuff bottles, and so on. + +The door rattled furiously. + +Ling Foo could consider himself as tolerably wealthy. Some day, when this +great turmoil among the whites subsided, he would move to South China and +grow little red oranges and melons, and there would be a nook in the +gardens where he could sit with the perfume of jasmine swimming over and +about his head and the goodly Book of Confucius on his knees. + +A thudding sound--that wasn't the wind. Ling Foo looked over his buttons. +He saw a human face outside the door; a beautiful boy's face--white. That +was the first impression. But as he stared he saw a man's fury destroy the +boyish stamp--gestures that demanded admission. + +But Ling Foo shook his head with equal emphasis. He would not go near that +door again this night. + +The man outside shook his fists threateningly, wheeled, and strode off. +Three strides took him out of sight; but Ling Foo, with a damp little +chill on his spine, remarked that the visitor limped. + +So! This would be the man who had carried the bloody head and shoulders of +the unknown. + +Oriental curiosity blazed up and over Ling Foo's distaste. What was it all +about? Why had the limping man returned and demanded entrance? What had +they done with the body? Pearls! The thought struck him as a blow. He +began to understand something of the episode. Pearls! The beaten man had +heard that sometimes Ling Foo of Woosung Road dealt in pearls without +being overcurious. A falling out among thieves, and one had tried to +betray his confederates, paying grimly for it. Pearls! + +He trotted down to the door and peered into the night, but he could see +nothing. He wished now that he had purchased those window curtains such as +the white merchants used over on the Bund. Every move he made could be +seen from across the way, and the man who limped might be lurking there, +watching. + +The man had come to him with pearls, but he had not been quick enough. +What had he done with them? The man with the slue-foot would not have +returned had he found the pearls on his moribund partner. That was sound +reasoning. Ling Foo's heart contracted, then expanded and began to beat +like a bird's wing. In here somewhere--on the floor! + +He turned away from the door without haste. His Oriental mind worked +quickly and smoothly. He would tramp back and forth the length of the shop +as if musing, but neither nook nor crevice should escape his eye. He was +heir to these pearls. Slue-Foot--for so Ling Foo named his visitor--would +not dare molest him, since he, Ling Foo, could go to the authorities and +state that murder had been done. Those tiger eyes in a boy's face! His +spine grew cold. + +Nevertheless, he set about his game. With his hands in his sleeves, his +chin down, he paced the passage between the two counters. As he turned for +the fifth journey a red-and-blue flash struck his eye. The flash came from +the far corner of the shop, from the foot of the gunpowder-blue temple +vase. Diamonds--not pearls but diamonds! Russian loot! + +Ling Foo pressed down his excitement and slowly approached the vase. A +necklace! He gave the object a slight kick, which sent it rattling toward +the door to the rear. He resumed his pacing. Each time he reached the +necklace he gave it another kick. At length the necklace was at the +threshold. Ling Foo approached the light and shut it off. Next he opened +the door and kicked the necklace across the threshold. Diamonds--thirty +or forty of them on a string. + +The room in the rear was divided into workshop and storeroom. The living +rooms were above. His wife was squatted on the floor in an unlittered +corner mending a ceremonial robe of his. She was always in this room at +night when Ling Foo was in the shop. + +He ignored her and carried his prize to a lapidary's bench. He perched +himself on a stool and reached for his magnifying glass. A queer little +hiss broke through his lips. Cut-glass beads, patently Occidental, and +here in Shanghai practically worthless! + +In his passion of disappointment he executed a gesture as if to hurl the +beads to the floor, but let his arm sink slowly. He had made a mistake. +These beads had not brought tragedy in and out of his shop. Somehow he had +missed the object; some nook or corner had escaped him. In the morning he +would examine every inch of the floor. White men did not kill each other +for a string of glass beads. + +He stirred the beads about on his palm, and presently swung them under the +droplight. Beautifully cut, small and large beads alternating, and on the +smaller a graven letter he could not decipher. He observed some dark +specks, and scrutinized them under the magnifying glass. Blood! His +Oriental mind groped hopelessly. Blood! He could make nothing of it. A +murderous quarrel over such as these! + +For a long time Ling Foo sat on his stool, the image of Buddha +contemplating the way. Outside the storm carried on vigorously, sending +rattles into casements and shudders into doors. The wifely needle, a +thread of silver fire, shuttled back and forth in the heavy brocade silk. + +Glass beads! Trumpery! Ling Foo slid off the stool and shuffled back into +the shop for his metal pipe. + +Having pushed Ling Foo into this blind alley, out of which he was shortly +to emerge, none the wiser, the Pagan Madonna swooped down upon the young +woman with the ruddy hair and touched her with the impelling finger. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +It was chance that brought Jane Norman into Shanghai. The British +transport, bound from Vladivostok to Hong-Kong, was destined to swing on +her mudhook forty-eight hours. So Jane, a Red Cross nurse, relieved and on +the first leg of the journey home to the United States, decided to spend +those forty-eight hours in Shanghai, see the sights and do a little +shopping. Besides, she had seen nothing of China. On the way over, +fourteen months since, she had come direct from San Francisco to the +Russian port. + +Jane was one of those suffocating adventurers whom circumstance had fenced +in. In fancy she beat her hands against the bars of this cage that had no +door, but through which she could see the caravans of dreams. Sea room and +sky room were the want of her, and no matter which way she turned--bars. +Her soul craved colour, distances, mountain peaks; and about all she had +ever seen were the white walls of hospital wards. It is not adventure to +tend the sick, to bind up wounds, to cheer the convalescing; it is a dull +if angelic business. + +In her heart of hearts Jane knew that she had accepted the hardships of +the Siberian campaign with the secret hope that some adventure might +befall her--only to learn that her inexorable cage had travelled along +with her. Understand, this longing was not the outcome of romantical +reading; it was in the marrow of her--inherent. She was not in search of +Prince Charming. She rarely thought of love as other young women think of +it. She had not written in her mind any particular event she wanted to +happen; but she knew that there must be colour, distance, mountain peaks. +A few days of tremendous excitement; and then she acknowledged that she +would be quite ready to return to the old monotonous orbit. + +The Great War to Jane had not been romance and adventure; her imagination, +lively enough in other directions, had not falsely coloured the stupendous +crime. She had accepted it instantly for what it was--pain, horror, death, +hunger, and pestilence. She saw it as the genius of Vasili Vereshchagin +and Emile Zola had seen it. + +The pioneer--after all, what was it he was truly seeking? Freedom! And as +soon as ever civilization caught up with him he moved on. Without +understanding it, that was really all Jane wanted--freedom. Freedom from +genteel poverty, freedom from the white walls of hospitals, freedom from +exactly measured hours. Twenty four hours a day, all her own; that was +what she wanted; twenty-four hours a day to do with as she pleased--to +sleep in, play, laugh, sing, love in. Pioneers, explorers, +adventurers--what else do they seek? Twenty-four hours a day, all their +own! + +At half after eight--about the time Ling Foo slid off his stool--the +tender from the transport sloshed up to the customs jetty and landed Jane, +a lone woman among a score of officers of various nationalities. But it +really wasn't the customs jetty her foot touched; it was the outer rim of +the whirligig. + +Some officer had found an extra slicker for her and an umbrella. Possibly +the officer in olive drab who assisted her to the nearest covered 'ricksha +and directed the placement of her luggage. + +"China!" + +"Yes, ma'am. Mandarin coats and oranges, jade and jasmine, Pekingese and +red chow dogs." + +"Oh, I don't mean that kind!" she interrupted. "I should think these poor +'ricksha boys would die of exposure." + +"Manchus are the toughest human beings on earth. I'll see you in the +morning?" + +"That depends," she answered, "upon the sun. If it rains I shall lie abed +all day. A real bed! Honour bright, I've often wondered if I should ever +see one again. Fourteen months in that awful world up there! Siberia!" + +"You're a plucky woman." + +"Somebody had to go. Armenia or Siberia, it was all the same to me if I +could help." She held out her hand. "Good-night, captain. Thank you for +all your kindness to me. Ten o'clock, if it is sunshiny. You're to show me +the shops. Oh, if I were only rich!" + +"And what would you do if you had riches?" + +"I'd buy all the silk at Kai Fook's--isn't that the name?--and roll myself +up in it like a cocoon." + +The man laughed. He understood. A touch of luxury, after all these +indescribable months of dirt and disease, rain and snow and ice, among a +people who lived like animals, who had the intelligence of animals. When +he spoke the officer's voice was singularly grave: + +"These few days have been very happy ones for me. At ten--if the sun +shines. Good-night." + +The 'rickshas in a wavering line began to roll along the Bund, which was +practically deserted. The lights shone through slanting lattices of rain. +Twice automobiles shot past, and Jane resented them. China, the flowery +kingdom! She was touched with a little thrill of exultation. But oh, to +get home, home! Never again would she long for palaces and servants and +all that. The little wooden-frame house and the garden would be paradise +enough. The crimson ramblers, the hollyhocks, the bachelor's-buttons, and +the peonies, the twisted apple tree that never bore more than enough for +one pie! Her throat tightened. + +She hadn't heard from the mother in two months, but there would be mail at +Hong-Kong. Letters and papers from home! Soon she would be in the sitting +room recounting her experiences; and the little mother would listen +politely, even doubtfully, but very glad to have her back. How odd it was! +In the mother the spirit of adventure never reached beyond the garden +gate, while in the daughter it had always been keen for the far places. +And in her first adventure beyond the gate, how outrageously she had been +cheated! She had stepped out of drab and dreary routine only to enter a +drabber and drearier one. + +What a dear boy this American officer was! He seemed to have been +everywhere, up and down the world. He had hunted the white orchid of +Borneo; he had gone pearl hunting in the South Seas; and he knew Monte +Carlo, London, Paris, Naples, Cairo. But he never spoke of home. She had +cleverly led up to it many times in the past month, but always he had +unembarrassedly switched the conversation into another channel. + +This puzzled her deeply. From the other Americans she never heard of +anything but home, and they were all mad to get there. Yet Captain +Dennison maintained absolute silence on that topic. Clean shaven, bronzed, +tall, and solidly built, clear-eyed, not exactly handsome but +engaging--what lay back of the man's peculiar reticence? Being a daughter +of Eve, the mystery intrigued her profoundly. + +Had he been a professional sailor prior to the war? It seemed to her if +that had been the case he would have enlisted in the Navy. He talked like +a man who had spent many years on the water; but in labour or in pleasure, +he made it most difficult for her to tell. Of his people, of his past, not +Bluebeard's closet was more firmly shut. Still with a little smile she +recalled that eventually a woman had opened that closet door, and hadn't +had her head cut off, either. + +He was poor like herself. That much was established. For he had said +frankly that when he received his discharge from the Army he would have to +dig up a job to get a meal ticket. + +Dear, dear! Would she ever see a continuous stretch of sunshine again? How +this rain tore into things! Shanghai! Wouldn't it be fun to have a +thousand dollars to fling away on the shops? She wanted jade beads, +silks--not the quality the Chinese made for export, but that heavy, shiver +stuff that was as strong and shielding as wool--ivory carvings, little +bronze Buddhas with prayer scrolls inside of them, embroidered jackets. +But why go on? She had less than a hundred, and she would have to carry +home gimcracks instead of curios. + +They were bobbing over a bridge now, and a little way beyond she saw the +lighted windows of the great caravansary, the Astor House. It smacked of +old New York, where in a few weeks she would be stepping back into the +dull routine of hospital work. + +She paid the ricksha boy and ran into the lobby, stamping her feet and +shaking the umbrella. The slicker was an overhead affair, and she had to +take off her hat to get free. This act tumbled her hair about +considerably, and Jane Norman's hair was her glory. It was the tint of the +copper beech, thick, finespun, with intermittent twists that gave it a +wavy effect. + +Jane was not beautiful; that is, her face was not--it was comely. It was +her hair that turned male heads. It was then men took note of her body. +She was magnificently healthy, and true health is a magnet as powerful as +that of the true pole. It drew toward her men and women and children. Her +eyes were gray and serious; her teeth were white and sound. She was +twenty-four. + +There was, besides her hair, another thing that was beautiful--her voice. +It answered like the G string of an old Strad to every emotion. One could +tell instantly when she was merry or sad or serious or angry. She could +not hide her emotions any more than she could hide her hair. As a war +nurse she had been adored by the wounded men and fought over by the +hospital commandants. But few men had dared make love to her. She had that +peculiar gift of drawing and repelling without consciousness. + +As the Chinese boy got her things together Jane espied the bookstall. +American newspapers and American magazines! She packed four or five of +each under her arm, nodded to the boy, and followed the manager to the +lift! She hoped the lights would hang so that she could lie in bed and +read. Her brain was thirsty for a bit of romance. + +Humming, she unpacked. She had brought one evening gown, hoping she might +have a chance to wear it before it fell apart from disuse. She shook out +the wrinkles and hung the gown in the closet. Lavender! She raised a fold +of the gown and breathed in rapturously that homy perfume. She sighed. +Perhaps she would have to lay away all her dreams in lavender. + +A little later she sat before the dressing mirror, combing her hair. How +it happened she never could tell, but she heard a crash upon the wood +floor, and discovered her hand mirror shattered into a thousand +splinters. + +Seven years' bad luck! She laughed. Fate had blundered. The mirror had +fallen seven years too late. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Outside the bar where the Whangpoo empties into the Yang-tse lay the +thousand-ton yacht _Wanderer II_, out of New York. She was a sea whippet, +and prior to the war her bowsprit had nosed into all the famed harbours of +the seven seas. For nearly three years she had been in the auxiliary fleet +of the United States Navy. She was still in war paint, owner's choice, but +all naval markings had been obliterated. Her deck was flush. The house, +pierced by the main companionway, was divided into three sections--a small +lounging room, a wireless room, and the captain's cabin, over which stood +the bridge and chart house. The single funnel rose between the captain's +cabin and the wireless room, and had the rakish tilt of the racer. +_Wanderer II_ could upon occasion hit it up round twenty-one knots, for +all her fifteen years. There was plenty of deck room fore and aft. + +The crew's quarters were up in the forepeak. A passage-way divided the +cook's galley and the dry stores, then came the dining salon. The main +salon, with a fine library, came next. The port side of this salon was +cut off into the owner's cabin. The main companionway dropped into the +salon, a passage each side giving into the guest cabins. But rarely these +days were there any guests on _Wanderer II_. + +The rain slashed her deck, drummed on the boat canvas, and blurred the +ports. The deck house shed webby sheets of water, now to port, now to +starboard. The ladder was down, and a reflector over the platform +advertised the fact that either the owner had gone into Shanghai or was +expecting a visitor. + +All about were rocking lights, yellow and green and red, from warships, +tramps, passenger ships, freighters, barges, junks. The water was streaked +with shaking lances of colour. + +In the salon, under a reading lamp, sat a man whose iron-gray hair was +patched with cowlicks. Combs and brushes produced no results, so the owner +had had it clipped to a short pompadour. It was the skull of a fighting +man, for all that frontally it was marked by a high intellectuality. This +sort of head generally gives the possessor yachts like _Wanderer II_, +tremendous bank accounts; the type that will always possess these things, +despite the howl of the proletariat. + +The face was sunburned. There was some loose flesh under the jaws. The +nose was thick and pudgy, wide in the nostrils, like a lion's. The +predatory are not invariably hawk-nosed. The eyes were blue--in repose, a +warm blue--and there were feathery wrinkles at the corners which suggested +that the toll-taker could laugh occasionally. The lips were straight and +thin, the chin square--stubborn rather than relentless. A lonely man who +was rarely lonesome. + +His body was big. One has to be keen physically as well as mentally to +make a real success of anything. His score might have tallied sixty. He +was at the peak of life, but hanging there, you might say. To-morrow +Anthony Cleigh might begin the quick downward journey. + +He had made his money in mines, rails, ships; and now he was spending it +prodigally. Prodigally, yes, but with caution and foresight. There was +always a ready market for what he bought. If he paid a hundred thousand +for a Rembrandt, rest assured he knew where he could dispose of it for the +same amount. Cleigh was a collector by instinct. With him it was no fad; +it was a passion, sometimes absurd. This artistic love of rare and +beautiful creations was innate, not acquired. Dealers had long since +learned their lesson, and no more sought to impose upon him. + +He was not always scrupulous. In the dollar war he had been sternly +honest, harshly just. In pursuit of objects of art he argued with his +conscience that he was not injuring the future of widows and orphans when +he bought some purloined masterpiece. Without being in the least aware of +it, he was now the victim, not the master, of the passion. He would have +purchased Raphael's Adoration of the Magi had some rogue been able to +steal it from the Vatican. + +Hanging from the ceiling and almost touching the floor, forward between +the entrance to the dining salon and the owner's cabin, was a rug eight +and a half by six. It was the first object that struck your eye as you +came down the companionway. It was an animal rug, a museum piece; rubies +and sapphires and emeralds and topaz melted into wool. It was under glass +to fend off the sea damp. Fit to hang beside the Ardebil Carpet. + +You never saw the rug except in this salon. Cleigh dared not hang it in +his gallery at home in New York for the particular reason that the British +Government, urged by the Viceroy of India, had been hunting high and low +for the rug since 1911, when it had been the rightful property of a +certain influential maharaja whose _Ai, ai!_ had reverberated from Hind to +Albion over the loss. Thus it will not be difficult to understand why +Cleigh was lonely rather than lonesome. + +Queer lot. To be a true collector is to be as the opium eater: you keep +getting in deeper and deeper, careless that the way back closes. After a +while you cannot feel any kick in the stuff you find in the open marts, so +you step outside the pale, where they sell the unadulterated. That's the +true, dyed-in-the-wool collector. He no longer acquires a Vandyke merely +to show to his friends; that he possesses it for his own delectation is +enough. He becomes brother to Gaspard, miser; and like Gaspard he cannot +be fooled by spurious gold. + +Over the top of the rug was a curtain of waxed sailcloth that could be +dropped by the pull of a cord, and it was generally dropped whenever +Cleigh made port. + +It was vaguely known that Cleigh possessed the maharaja's treasure. +Millionaire collectors, agents, and famous salesroom auctioneers had heard +indirectly; but they kept the information to themselves--not from any +kindly spirit, however. Never a one of them but hoped some day he might +lay hands upon the rug and dispose of it to some other madman. A rug +valued at seventy thousand dollars was worth a high adventure. Cleigh, +however, with cynical humour courted the danger. + +There is a race of hardy dare-devils--super-thieves--of which the world +hears little and knows little. These adventurers have actually robbed the +Louvre, the Vatican, the Pitti Gallery, the palaces of kings and sultans. +It was not so long ago that La Gioconda--Mona Lisa--was stolen from the +Louvre. Cleigh had come from New York, thousands of miles, for the express +purpose of meeting one of these amazing rogues--a rogue who, had he found +a rich wallet on the pavements, would have moved heaven and earth to find +the owner, but who would have stolen the Pope's throne had it been left +about carelessly. + +It is rather difficult to analyze the moral status of such a man, or that +of the man ready to deal with him. + +Cleigh lowered his book and assumed a listening attitude. Above the patter +of the rain he heard the putt-putt of a motor launch. He laid the book on +the table and reached for a black cigar, which he lit and began to puff +quickly. Louder grew the panting of the motor. It stopped abruptly. Cleigh +heard a call or two, then the creaking of the ladder. Two minutes later a +man limped into the salon. He tossed his sou'wester to the floor and +followed it with the smelly oilskin. + +"Hello, Cleigh! Devil of a night!" + +"Have a peg?" asked Cleigh. + +"Never touch the stuff." + +"That's so; I had forgotten." + +Cleigh never looked upon this man's face without recalling del Sarto's +John the Baptist--supposing John had reached forty by the way of reckless +passions. The extraordinary beauty was still there, but as though behind a +blurred pane of glass. + +"Well?" said Cleigh, trying to keep the eagerness out of his voice. + +"There's the devil to pay--all in a half hour." + +"You haven't got it?" Cleigh blazed out. + +"Morrissy--one of the squarest chaps in the world--ran amuck the last +minute. Tried to double-cross me, and in the rough-and-tumble that +followed he was more or less banged up. We hurried him to a hospital, +where he lies unconscious." + +"But the beads!" + +"Either he dropped them in the gutter, or they repose on the floor of a +Chinese shop in Woosung Road. I'll be there bright and early--never you +fear. Don't know what got into Morrissy. Of course I'll look him up in the +morning." + +"Thousands of miles--to hear a yarn like this!" + +"Cleigh, we've done business for nearly twenty years. You can't point out +an instance where I ever broke my word." + +"I know," grumbled Cleigh. "But I've gone to all this trouble, getting a +crew and all that. And now you tell me you've let the beads slip through +your fingers!" + +"Pshaw! You'd have put the yacht into commission if you'd never heard from +me. You were crazy to get to sea again. Any trouble picking up the crew?" + +"No. But only four of the old crew--Captain Newton, of course, and Chief +Engineer Svenson, Donaldson, and Morley. Still, it's the best crew I ever +had: young fellows off warships and transports, looking for comfortable +berths and a little adventure that won't entail hunting periscopes." + +"Plenty of coal?" + +"Trust me for that. Four hundred tons in Manila, and I shan't need more +than a bucketful." + +"Who drew the plans for this yacht?" asked Cunningham, with a roving +glance. + +"I did." + +"Humph! Why didn't you leave the job to someone who knew how? It's a +series of labyrinths on this deck." + +"I wanted a big main salon, even if I had to sacrifice some of the rest of +the space. Besides, it keeps the crew out of sight." + +"And I should say out of touch, too." + +"I'm quite satisfied," replied Cleigh, grumpily. + +"Cleigh, I'm through." Cunningham spread his hands. + +"What are you through with?" + +"Through with this game. I'm going in for a little sport. This string of +beads was the wind-up. But don't worry. They'll be on board here +to-morrow. You brought the gold?" + +"Yes." + +The visitor paused in front of the rug. He sighed audibly. + +"Scheherazade's twinkling little feet! Lord, but that rug is a wonder! +Cleigh, I've been offered eighty thousand for it." + +"What's that?" Cleigh barked, half out of his chair. + +"Eighty thousand by Eisenfeldt. I don't know what crazy fool he's dealing +for, but he offers me eighty thousand." + +Cleigh got up and pressed a wall button. Presently a man stepped into the +salon from the starboard passage. He was lank, with a lean, wind-bitten +face and a hard blue eye. + +"Dodge," announced Cleigh, smiling, "this is Mr. Cunningham. I want you to +remember him." + +Dodge agreed with a curt nod. + +"If ever you see him in this cabin when I'm absent, you know what to do." + +"Yes, sir," replied Dodge, with a wintry smile. + +Cunningham laughed. + +"So you carry a Texas gunman round with you now? After all, why not? You +never can tell. But don't worry, Cleigh. If ever I make up my mind to +accept Eisenfeldt's offer, I'll lift the yacht first." + +Cleigh laughed amusedly. + +"How would you go about to steal a yacht like this?" + +"That's telling. Now I've got to get back to town. My advice for you is to +come in to-morrow and put up at the Astor, where I can get in touch with +you easily." + +"Agreed. That's all, Dodge." + +The Texan departed, and Cunningham burst into laughter again. + +"You're an interesting man, Cleigh. On my word, you do need a +guardian--gallivanting round the world with all these treasures. Queer +what things we do when we try to forget. Is there any desperate plunge we +wouldn't take if we thought we could leave the Old Man of the Sea behind? +You think you're forgetting when you fly across half the world for a +string of glass beads. I think I'm forgetting when I risk my neck getting +hold of some half-forgotten Rembrandt. But there it is, always at our +shoulder when we turn. One of the richest men in the world! Doesn't that +tingle you when you hear people whisper it as you pass? Just as I tingle +when some woman gasps, 'What a beautiful face!' We both have our withered +leg--only yours is invisible." + +The mockery on the face and the irony on the tongue of the man disturbed +Cleigh. Supposing the rogue had his eye on that rug? To what lengths might +he not go to possess it? And he had the infernal ingenuity of his master, +Beelzebub. Or was he just trying Anthony Cleigh's nerves to see whether +they were sound or raw? + +"But the beads!" he said. + +"I'm sorry. Simply Morrissy ran amuck." + +"I am willing to pay half as much again." + +"You leave that to me--at the original price. No hold-up. Prices fixed, as +the French say. Those beads will be on board here to-morrow. But why the +devil do you carry that rug abroad?" + +"To look at." + +"Mad as a hatter!" Cunningham picked up his oilskin and sou'wester. "Hang +it, Cleigh, I've a notion to have a try at that rug just for the sport of +it!" + +"If you want to bump into Dodge," replied the millionaire, dryly, "try +it." + +"Oh, it will be the whole thing--the yacht--when I start action! Devil +take the weather!" + +"How the deuce did the beads happen to turn up here in Shanghai?" + +"Morrissy brought them east from Naples. That's why his work to-night +puzzles me. All those weeks to play the crook in, and then to make a play +for it when he knew he could not put it over! Brain storm--and when he +comes to he'll probably be sorry. Well, keep your eye on the yacht." +Cunningham shouldered into his oilskin. "To-morrow at the Astor, between +three and five. By George, what a ripping idea--to steal the yacht! I'm +mad as a hatter, too. Good-night, Cleigh." And laughing, Cunningham went +twisting up the companionway, into the rain and the dark. + +Cleigh stood perfectly still until the laughter became an echo and the +echo a memory. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Morning and winnowed skies; China awake. The great black-and-gold banners +were again fluttering in Nanking Road. Mongolian ponies clattered about, +automobiles rumbled, 'rickshas jogged. Venders were everywhere, many with +hot rice and bean curd. Street cleaners in bright-red cotton jackets were +busy with the mud puddles. The river swarmed with sampans and barges and +launches. There was only one lifeless thing in all Shanghai that +morning--the German Club. + +In the city hospital the man Morrissy, his head in bandages, smiled feebly +into Cunningham's face. + +"Were you mad to try a game like that? What the devil possessed you? Three +to one, and never a ghost of a chance. You never blew up like this before. +What's the answer?" + +"Just struck me, Dick--one of those impulses you can't help. I'm sorry. +Ought to have known I'd have no chance, and you'd have been justified in +croaking me. Just as I was in the act of handing them over to you the idea +came to bolt. All that dough would keep me comfortably the rest of my +life." + +"What happened to them?" + +"Don't know. After that biff on the coco I only wanted some place to crawl +into. I had them in my hand when I started to run. Sorry." + +"Have they quizzed you?" + +"Yes, but I made out I couldn't talk. What's the dope?" + +"You were in a rough-and-tumble down the Chinese Bund, and we got you +away. Play up to that." + +"All right. But, gee! I won't be able to go with you." + +"If we have any luck, I'll see you get a share." + +"That's white. You were always a white man, Dick. I feel like a skunk. I +knew I couldn't put it over, with the three of you at my elbow. What the +devil got into me?" + +"Any funds?" + +"Enough to get me down to Singapore. Where do you want me to hang out?" + +"Suit yourself. You're out of this play--and it's my last." + +"You're quitting the big game?" + +"Yes. What's left of my schedule I'm going to run out on my own. So we +probably won't meet again for a long time, Morrissy. Here's a couple of +hundred to add to your store. If we find the beads I'll send your share +wherever you say." + +"Might as well be Naples. They're off me in the States." + +"All right. Cook's or the American Express?" + +"Address me the Milan direct." + +Cunningham nodded. + +"Well, good-bye." + +"Good-bye, Dick. I'm sorry I gummed it up." + +"I thought you'd be. Good-bye." + +But as Cunningham passed from sight, the man on the cot smiled ironically +at the sun-splashed ceiling. A narrow squeak, but he had come through. + +Cunningham, grateful for the sunshine, limped off toward Woosung Road, +grotesquely but incredibly fast for a man with only one sound leg. He +never used a cane, having the odd fancy that a stick would only emphasize +his affliction. He might have taken a 'ricksha this morning, but he never +thought of it until he had crossed Soochow Creek. + +But Ling Foo was not in his shop and the door was locked. Cunningham +explored the muddy gutters all the way from Ling Foo's to Moy's tea house, +where the meeting had taken place. He found nothing, and went into Moy's +to wait. Ling Foo would have to pass the restaurant. A boy who knew the +merchant stood outside to watch. + + * * * * * + +Jane woke at nine. The brightness of the window shade told her that the +sun was clear. She sprang out of bed, a trill of happiness in her throat. +The shops! Oh, the beautiful, beautiful shops! + +"China, China, China!" she sang. + +She threw up the shade and squinted for a moment. The sun in the heavens +and the reflection on the Whangpoo were blinding. The sampans made her +think of ants, darting, scuttling, wheeling. + +"Oh, the beautiful shops!" + +Of all the things in the world--this side of the world--worth having, +nothing else seemed comparable to jade--a jade necklace. Not the stone +that looked like dull marble with a greenish pallor--no. She wanted the +deep apple-green jade, the royal, translucent stone. And she knew that she +had as much chance of possessing the real article as she had of taking her +pick of the scattered Romanoff jewels. + +Jane held to the belief that when you wished for something you couldn't +have it was niggardly not to wish magnificently. + +She dressed hurriedly, hastened through her breakfast of tea and toast and +jam, and was about to sally forth upon the delectable adventure, when +there came a gentle knock on the door. She opened it, rather expecting a +boy to announce that Captain Dennison was below. Outside stood a Chinaman +in a black skirt and a jacket of blue brocade. He was smiling and +kotowing. + +"Would the lady like to see some things?" + +"Come in," said Jane, readily. + +Ling Foo deposited his pack on the floor and opened it. He had heard that +a single woman had come in the night before and, shrewd merchant that he +was, he had wasted no time. + +"Furs!" cried Jane, reaching down for the Manchurian sable. She blew aside +the top fur and discovered the smoky down beneath. She rubbed her cheek +against it ecstatically. She wondered what devil's lure there was about +furs and precious stones that made women give up all the world for them. +Was that madness hidden away in her somewhere? + +"How much?" + +She knew beforehand that the answer would render the question utterly +futile. + +"A hundred Mex," said Ling Foo. "Very cheap." + +"A hundred Mex?" That would be nearly fifty dollars in American money. +With a sigh she dropped the fur. "Too much for me. How much is that +Chinese jacket?" + +"Twenty Mex." + +Jane carried it over to the window. + +"I will give you fifteen for it." + +"All right." + +Ling Foo was willing to forego his usual hundred per cent. profit in order +to start the day with a sale. Then he spread out the grass linen. + +Jane went into raptures over some of the designs, but in the end she shook +her head. She wanted something from Shanghai, something from Hong-Kong, +something from Yokohama. If she followed her inclination she would go +broke here and now. + +"Have you any jade? Understand, I'm not buying. Just want to see some." + +"No, lady; but I can bring you some this afternoon." + +"I warn you, I'm not buying." + +"I shall be glad to show the lady. What time shall I call?" + +"Oh, about tea time." + +Ling Foo reached inside his jacket and produced a string of cut-glass +beads. + +"How pretty! What are they?" + +"Glass." + +Jane hooked the string round her neck and viewed the result in the +mirror. The sunshine, striking the facets, set fire to the beads. They +were really lovely. She took a sudden fancy to them. + +"How much?" + +"Four Mex." It was magnanimous of Ling Foo. + +"I'll take them." They were real, anyhow. "Bring your jade at tea time and +call for Miss Norman. I can't give you any more time." + +"Yes, lady." + +Ling Foo bundled up his assorted merchandise and trotted away infinitely +relieved. The whole affair was off his hands. In no wise could the police +bother him now. He knew nothing; he would know nothing until he met his +honourable ancestors. + +From ten until three Jane, under the guidance of Captain Dennison, stormed +the shops on the Bunds and Nanking Road; but in returning to the Astor +House she realized with dismay that she had expended the major portion of +her ammunition in this offensive. She doubted if she would have enough to +buy a kimono in Japan. It was dreadful to be poor and to have a taste for +luxury and an eye for beauty. + +"Captain," she said as they sat down to tea, "I'm going to ask one more +favour." + +"What is it?" + +"A Chinaman is coming with some jade. If I'm alone with him I'm afraid +I'll buy something, and I really can't spend another penny in Shanghai." + +"I see. Want me to shoo him off in case his persistence is too much for +you." + +"Exactly. It's very nice of you." + +"Greatest pleasure in the world. I wish the job was permanent--shooing 'em +away from you." + +She sent him a quick sidelong glance, but he was smiling. Still, there was +something in the tone that quickened her pulse. All nonsense, of course; +both of them stony, as the Britishers put it; both of them returning to +the States for bread and butter. + +"Why didn't you put up here?" she asked. "There is plenty of room." + +"Well, I thought perhaps it would be better if I stayed at the Palace." + +"Nonsense! Who cares?" + +"I do." And this time he did not smile. + +"I suppose my Chinaman will be waiting in the lobby." + +"Let's toddle along, then." + +Dennison followed her out of the tea room, his gaze focused on the back of +her neck, and it was just possible to resist the mad inclination to bend +and kiss the smooth, ivory-tinted skin. He was not ready to analyze the +impulse for fear he might find how deep down the propellant was. A woman, +young in the heart, young in the body, and old in the mind, disillusioned +but not embittered, unafraid, resourceful, sometimes beautiful and +sometimes plain, but always splendidly alive. + +Perhaps the wisest move on his part was to avoid her companionship, invent +some excuse to return by the way of Manila, pretend he had transfer +orders. To spend twenty-one days on the same ship with her and to keep his +head seemed a bit too strong. Had there been something substantial +reaching down from the future--a dependable job--he would have gone with +her joyously. But he had not a dollar beyond his accumulated pay; that +would melt quickly enough when he reached the States. He was thirty; he +would have to hustle to get anywhere by the time he was forty. His only +hope was that back in the States they were calling for men who knew how to +manage men, and he had just been discharged--or recalled for that +purpose--from the best school for that. But they were calling for +specialists, too, and he was a jack of all trades and master of none. + +He knew something about art, something about music, something about +languages; but he could not write. He was a fair navigator, but not fair +enough for a paying job. He could take an automobile engine apart and +reassemble it with skill, but any chauffeur could do that. + +"Hadn't we better go into the parlour?" he heard Jane asking as they +passed out. + +"We'll be alone there. It will be easier for you to resist temptation, I +suppose, if there isn't any audience. Audiences are nuisances. Men have +killed each other because they feared the crowd might mistake common sense +for the yellow streak." + +Instantly the thought leaped into the girl's mind: Supposing such an event +lay back of this strange silence about his home and his people? She +recalled the ruthless ferocity with which he had broken up a street fight +between American and Japanese soldiers one afternoon in Vladivostok. +Supposing he had killed someone? But she had to repudiate this theory. No +officer in the United States Army could cover up anything like that. + +"Come to the parlour," she said to Ling Foo, who was smiling and +kotowing. + +Ling Foo picked up his blackwood box. Inwardly he was not at all pleased +at the prospect of having an outsider witness the little business +transaction he had in mind. Obliquely he studied the bronze mask. There +was no eagerness, no curiosity, no indifference. It struck Ling Foo that +there was something Oriental in this officer's repose. But five hundred +gold! Five hundred dollars in American gold--for a string of glass beads! + +He set the blackwood box on a stand, opened it, and spread out jade +earrings, rings, fobs, bracelets, strings. The girl's eagerness caused +Ling Foo to sigh with relief. It would be easy. + +"I warned you that I should not buy anything," said Jane, ruefully. "But +even if I had the money I would not buy this kind of a jade necklace. I +should want apple-green." + +"Ah!" said Ling Foo, shocked with delight. "Perhaps we can make a bargain. +You have those glass beads I sold you this morning?" + +"Yes, I am wearing them." + +Jane took off her mink-fur collaret, which was sadly worn. + +Ling Foo's hand went into his box again. From a piece of cotton cloth he +drew forth a necklace of apple-green jade, almost perfect. + +"Oh, the lovely thing!" Jane seized the necklace. "To possess something +like this! Isn't it glorious, captain?" + +"Let me see it." Dennison inspected the necklace carefully. "It is +genuine. Where did you get this?" + +Ling Foo shrugged. + +"Long ago, during the Boxer troubles, I bought it from a sailor." + +"Ah, probably loot from the Peking palace. How much is it worth?" + +Murder blazed up in Ling Foo's heart, but his face remained smilingly +bland. + +"What I can get for it. But if the lady wishes I will give it to her in +exchange for the glass beads. I had no right to sell the beads," Ling Foo +went on with a deprecating gesture. "I thought the man who owned them +would never claim them. But he came this noon. Something belonging to his +ancestor--and he demands it." + +"Trade them? Good heavens, yes! Of all things! Here!" Jane unclasped the +beads and thrust them toward Ling Foo's eager claw. + +But Dennison reached out an intervening hand. + +"Just a moment, Miss Norman. What's the game?" he asked of Ling Foo. + +Ling Foo silently cursed all this meddler's ancestors from Noah down, but +his face expressed only mild bewilderment. + +"Game?" + +"Yes. Why didn't you offer some other bits of jade? This string is worth +two or three hundred gold; and this is patently a string of glass beads, +handsomely cut, but nevertheless plain glass. What's the idea?" + +"But I have explained!" protested Ling Foo. "The string is not mine. I +have in honour to return it." + +"Yes, yes! That's all very well. You could have told this lady that and +offered to return her money. But a jade necklace like this one! No, Miss +Norman; my advice is to keep the beads until we learn what's going on." + +"But to let that jade go!" she wailed comically. + +"The lady may keep the jade until to-morrow. She may have the night to +decide. This is no hurry." + +Ling Foo saw that he had been witless indeed. The thought of raising the +bid of five hundred gold to a thousand or more had bemused him, blunted +his ordinary cunning. + +Inwardly he cursed his stupidity. But the appearance of a witness to the +transaction had set him off his balance. The officer had spoken shrewdly. +The young woman would have returned the beads in exchange for the sum she +had paid for them, and she would never have suspected--nor the officer, +either--that the beads possessed unknown value. Still, the innocent +covetousness, plainly visible in her eyes, told him that the game was not +entirely played out; there was yet a dim chance. Alone, without the +officer to sway her, she might be made to yield. + +"The lady may wear the beads to-night if she wishes. I will return for +them in the morning." + +"But this does not explain the glass beads," said the captain. + +"I will bring the real owner with me in the morning," volunteered Ling +Foo. "He sets a high value on them through sentiment. Perhaps I was +hasty." + +Dennison studied the glass beads. Perhaps his suspicions were not on any +too solid ground. Yet a string of jade beads like that in exchange! +Something was in the air. + +"Well," said he, smiling at the appeal in the girl's eyes, "I don't +suppose there will be any harm in keeping them overnight. We'll have a +chance to talk it over." + +Ling Foo's plan of attack matured suddenly. He would call near midnight. +He would somehow manage to get to her door. She would probably hand him +the glass beads without a word of argument. Then he would play his game +with the man who limped. He smiled inwardly as he put his wares back into +the carved box. A thousand gold! At any rate, he would press the man into +a corner. There was something about this affair that convinced Ling Foo +that his noon visitor would pay high for two reasons: one, to recover the +glass beads; the other, to keep out of the reach of the police. + +Ling Foo considered that he was playing his advantage honestly. He hadn't +robbed or murdered anybody. A business deal had slipped into his hands and +it was only logical to make the most of it. He kotowed several times on +the way out of the parlour, conscious, however, of the searching eyes of +the man who had balked him. + +"Well!" exclaimed Jane. "What in the world do you suppose is going on?" + +"Lord knows, but something is going on. You couldn't buy a jade necklace +like that under five hundred in New York. This apple-green seldom runs +deep; the colour runs in veins and patches. The bulk of the quarried stone +has the colour and greasy look of raw pork. No; I shouldn't put it on just +now, not until you have washed it. You never can tell. I'll get you a +germicide at the English apothecary's. Glass beads! Humph! Hanged if I can +make it out. Glass; Occidental, too; maybe worth five dollars in the +States. Put it on again. It's a great world over here. You're always +stumbling into something unique. I'm coming over to dine with you +to-night." + +"Splendid!" + +Jane put the jade into her hand-bag, clasped the glass beads round her +neck again, and together she and Dennison walked toward the parlour door. +As they reached it a tall, vigorous, elderly man with a gray pompadour +started to enter. He paused, with an upward tilt of the chin, but the tilt +was the result of pure astonishment. Instinctively Jane turned to her +escort. His chin was tilted, too, and his expression was a match for the +stranger's. Later, recalling the tableau, which lasted but a moment, it +occurred to Jane that two men, suddenly confronted by a bottomless pit, +might have expressed their dumfounderment in exactly this fashion. + +In the lobby she said rather breathlessly: "You knew each other and didn't +speak! Who is he?" + +The answer threw her into a hypnotic state. + +"My father," said Dennison, quietly. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Father and son! For a while Jane had the sensation of walking upon +unsubstantial floors, of seeing unsubstantial objects. The encounter did +not seem real, human. Father and son, and they had not rushed into each +other's arms! No matter what had happened in the past, there should have +been some human sign other than astonishment. At the very least two or +three years had separated them. Just stared for a moment, and passed on! + +Hypnotism is a fact; a word or a situation will create this peculiar state +of mind. Father and son! The phrase actually hypnotized Jane, and she +remained in the clutch of it until hours later, which may account for the +amazing events into which she permitted herself to be drawn. Father and +son! Her actions were normal; her mental state was not observable; but +inwardly she retained no clear recollection of the hours that intervened +between this and the astonishing climax. As from a distance, she heard the +voice of the son: + +"Looks rum to you, no doubt. But I can't tell you the story--at least not +now. It's the story of a tomfool. I had no idea he was on this side. I +haven't laid eyes on him in seven years. Dinner at seven. I'll have that +germicide sent up to your room." + +The captain nodded abruptly and made off toward the entrance. + +Jane understood. He wanted to be alone--to catch his breath, as it were. +At any rate, that was a human sign that something besides astonishment was +stirring within. So she walked mechanically over to the bookstall and +hazily glanced at the backs of the new novels, riffled the pages of a +magazine; and to this day she cannot recall whether the clerk was a man or +a woman, white or brown or yellow, for a hand touched her sleeve lightly, +compelling her attention. Dennison's father stood beside her. + +"Pardon me, but may I ask you a question?" + +Jane dropped the fur collaret in her confusion. They both stooped for it, +and collided gently; but in rising the man glimpsed the string of glass +beads. + +"Thank you," said Jane, as she received the collaret. "What is it you wish +to ask of me?" + +"The name of the man you were with." + +"Dennison; his own and yours--probably," she said with spirit, for she +took sides in that moment, and was positive that the blame for the +estrangement lay with the father. The level, unagitated voice irritated +her; she resented it. He wasn't human! + +"My name is Cleigh--Anthony Cleigh. Thank you." + +Cleigh bowed politely and moved away. Behind that calm, impenetrable mask, +however, was turmoil, kaleidoscopic, whirling too quickly for the brain to +grasp or hold definite shapes. The boy here! And the girl with those beads +round her throat! For the subsidence of this turmoil it was needful to +have space; so Cleigh strode out of the lobby into the fading day, made +his way across the bridge, and sought the Bund. He forgot all about his +appointment with Cunningham. + +He lit a cigar and walked on and on, oblivious of the cries of the +'ricksha boys, importunate beggars, the human currents that broke and +flowed each side of him. The boy here in Shanghai! And that girl with +those beads round her throat! It was as though his head had become a +tom-tom in the hands of fate. The drumming made it impossible to think +clearly. It was the springing up of the electric lights that brought him +back to actualities. He looked at his watch. + +He had been tramping up and down the Bund for two solid hours. + +And now came, clearly defined, the idea for which he had been searching. +He indulged in a series of rumbling chuckles. You will have heard such a +sound in the forest when a stream suddenly takes on a merry mood--broken +water. + +To return to Jane, whom Cleigh had left in a state of growing hypnosis. +She was able to act and think intelligently, but the spell lay like a fog +upon her will, enervating it. She grasped the situation clearly enough; it +was tremendous. She had heard of Anthony Cleigh. Who in America had not? +Father and son, and they had passed each other without a nod! Had she not +been a witness to the episode, she would not have believed such a +performance possible. + +Through the fog burst a clear point of light. This was not the first time +she had encountered Anthony Cleigh. Where had she seen him before, and +under what circumstance? Later, when she was alone, she would dig into her +storehouse of recollection. Certainly she must bring back that episode. +One thing, she had not known him as Anthony Cleigh. + +Father and son, and they had not spoken! It was this that beat +persistently upon her mind. What dramatic event had created such a +condition? After seven years! These two, strong mentally and physically, +in a private war! She understood now how it was that Dennison had been +able to tell her about Monte Carlo, the South Sea Islands, Africa, Asia; +he had been his father's companion on the yacht. + +Mechanically she approached the lift. In her room all her actions were +more or less mechanical. From the back of her mind somewhere came the +order to her hands. She took down the evening gown. This time the subtle +odour of lavender left her untouched. To be beautiful, to wish that she +were beautiful! Why? Her hair was lovely; her neck and arms were lovely; +but her nose wasn't right, her mouth was too large, and her eyes missed +being either blue or hazel. Why did she wish to be beautiful? + +Always to be poor, to be hanging on the edge of things, never enough of +this or that--genteel poverty. She had inherited the condition, as had her +mother before her--gentlefolk who had to count the pennies. Her two +sisters--really handsome girls--had married fairly well; but one lived in +St. Louis and the other in Seattle, so she never saw them any more. + +Tired. That was it. Tired of the war for existence; tired of the following +odours of antiseptics; tired of the white walls of hospitals, the sight of +pain. On top of all, the level dullness of the past, the leaden horror of +these months in Siberia. She laughed brokenly. Gardens scattered all over +the world, and she couldn't find one--the gardens of imagination! Romance +everywhere, and she never could touch any of it! + +Marriage. Outside of books, what was it save a legal contract to cook and +bear children in exchange for food and clothes? The humdrum! She flung out +her arms with a gesture of rage. She had been cheated, as always. She had +come to this side of the world expecting colour, movement, adventure. The +Orient of the novels she had read--where was it? Drab skies, drab people, +drab work! And now to return to America, to exchange one drab job for +another! Nadir, always nadir, never any zenith! + +Her bitter cogitations were interrupted by a knock on the door. She threw +on her kimono and answered. A yellow hand thrust a bottle toward her. It +would be the wash for the jade. She emptied the soap dish, cleaned it, +poured in the germicide, and dropped the jade necklace into the liquid. +She left it there while she dressed. + +Dennison Cleigh, returning to the States to look for a job! Nothing she +had ever read seemed quite so fantastic. She paused in her dressing to +stare at some inner thought which she projected upon the starred curtain +of the night beyond her window. Supposing they had wanted to fling +themselves into each other's arms and hadn't known how? She had had a +glimpse or two of Dennison's fierce pride. Naturally he had inherited it +from his father. Supposing they were just stupid rather than vengeful? +Poor, foolish human beings! + +She proceeded with her toilet. Finishing that, she cleansed the jade +necklace with soap and water, then realized that she would not be able to +wear it, because the string would be damp. So she put on the glass beads +instead--another move by the Madonna of the Pagan. Jane Norman was to have +her fling. + +Dennison was in the lobby waiting for her. He gave a little gasp of +delight as he beheld her. Of whom and of what did she remind him? Somebody +he had seen, somebody he had read about? For the present it escaped him. +Was she handsome? He could not say; but there was that in her face that +was always pulling his glance and troubling him for the want of knowing +why. + +The way she carried herself among men had always impressed him. Fearless +and friendly, and with deep understanding, she created respect wherever +she went. Men, toughened and coarsened by danger and hardship, somehow +understood that Jane Norman was not the sort to make love to because one +happened to be bored. On the other hand, there was something in her that +called to every man, as a candle calls to the moth; only there were no +burnt wings; there seemed to be some invisible barrier that kept the +circling moths beyond the zone of incineration. + +Was there fire in her? He wondered. That copper tint in her hair suggested +it. Magnificent! And what the deuce was the colour of her eyes? Sometimes +there was a glint of topaz, or cornflower sapphire, gray agate; they were +the most tantalizing eyes he had ever gazed into. + +"Hungry?" he greeted her. + +"For fourteen months!" + +"Do you know what?" + +"What?" + +"I'd give a year of my life for a club steak and all the regular +fixings." + +"That isn't fair! You've gone and spoiled my dinner." + +"Wishy-washy chicken! How I hate tin cans! Pancakes and maple syrup! +What?" + +"Sliced tomatoes with sugar and vinegar!" + +"You don't mean that!" + +"I do! I don't care how plebeian it is. Bread and butter and sliced +tomatoes with sugar and vinegar--better than all the ice cream that ever +was! Childhood ambrosia! For mercy's sake, let's get in before all the +wings are gone!" + +They entered the huge dining room with its pattering Chinese boys--entered +it laughing--while all the time there was at bottom a single identical +thought--the father. + +Would they see him again? Would he be here at one of the tables? Would a +break come, or would the affair go on eternally? + +"I know what it is!" he cried, breaking through the spell. + +"What?" + +"Ever read 'Phra the Phoenician'?" + +"Why, yes. But what is what?" + +"For days I've been trying to place you. You're the British heroine!" + +She thought for a moment to recall the physical attributes of this +heroine. + +"But I'm not red-headed!" she denied, indignantly. + +"But it is! It is the most beautiful head of hair I ever laid eyes on." + +"And that is the beginning and the end of me," she returned with a little +catch in her voice. + +The knowledge bore down upon her that her soul was thirsty for this kind +of talk. She did not care whether he was in earnest or not. + +"The beginning, but not the end of you. Your eyes are fine, too. They keep +me wondering all the time what colour they really are." + +"That's very nice of you." + +"And the way you carry yourself!" + +"Good gracious!" + +"You look as if you had come down from Olympus and had lost the way +back." + +"Captain, you're a dear! I've just been wild to have a man say foolish +things to me." She knew that she might play with this man; that he would +never venture across the line. "Men have said foolish things to me, but +always when I was too busy to bother. To-night I haven't anything in this +wide world to do but listen. Go on." + +He laughed, perhaps a little ruefully. + +"Is there any fire in you, I wonder?" + +"Well?"--tantalizing. + +"Honestly, I should like to see you in a rage. I've been watching you for +weeks, and have found myself irritated by that perpetual calm of yours. +That day of the riot you stood on the curb as unconcerned as though you +had been witnessing a movie." + +"It is possible that it is the result of seeing so much pain and misery. I +have been a machine too long. I want to be thrust into the middle of some +fairy story before I die. I have never been in love, in a violent rage. I +haven't known anything but work and an abiding discontent. Red hair----" + +"But it really isn't red. It's like the copper beech in the sunshine, full +of glowing embers." + +"Are you a poet?" + +"On my word, I don't know what I am." + +"There is fire enough in you. The way you tossed about our boys and the +Japs!" + +"In the blood. My father and I used to dress for dinner, but we always +carried the stone axe under our coats. We were both to blame, but only a +miracle will ever bring us together. I'm sorry I ran into him. It brings +the old days crowding back." + +"I'm sorry." + +"Oh, I'll survive! Somewhere there's a niche for me, and sooner or later +I'll find it." + +"He stopped me in the lobby after you left. Wanted to know what name you +were using. I told him rather bluntly--and he went on. Something in his +voice--made me want to strike him!" + +Dennison balanced a fork on a finger. + +"Funny old world, isn't it?" + +"Very. But I've seen him somewhere before. Perhaps in a little while it +will come back.... What an extraordinarily handsome man!" + +"Where?"--with a touch of brusqueness. + +"Sitting at the table on your left." + +The captain turned. The man at the other table caught his eye, smiled, and +rose. As he approached Jane noticed with a touch of pity that the man +limped oddly. His left leg seemed to slue about queerly just before it +touched the floor. + +"Well, well! Captain Cleigh!" + +Dennison accepted the proffered hand, but coldly. + +"On the way back to the States?" + +"Yes." + +"The _Wanderer_ is down the river. I suppose you'll be going home on +her?" + +"My orders prevent that." + +"Run into the old boy?" + +"Naturally," with a wry smile at Jane. "Miss Norman, Mr. Cunningham. Where +the shark is, there will be the pilot fish." + +The stranger turned his eyes toward Jane's. The beauty of those dark eyes +startled her. Fire opals! They seemed to dig down into her very soul, as +if searching for something. He bowed gravely and limped back to his +table. + +"I begin to understand," was Dennison's comment. + +"Understand what?" + +"All this racket about those beads. My father and this man Cunningham in +the same town generally has significance. It is eight years since I saw +Cunningham. Of course I could not forget his face, but it's rather +remarkable that he remembered mine. He is--if you tear away the +romance--nothing more or less than a thief." + +"A thief?"--astonishedly. + +"Not the ordinary kind; something of a prince of thieves. He makes it +possible--he and his ilk--for men like my father to establish private +museums. And now I'm going to ask you to do me a favour. It's just a +hunch. Hide those beads the moment you reach your room. They are yours as +much as any one's, and they may bring you a fancy penny--if my hunch is +worth anything. Hang that pigtail, for getting you mixed up in this! I +don't like it." + +Jane's hand went slowly to her throat; and even as her fingers touched the +beads, now warm from contact, she became aware of something electrical +which drew her eyes compellingly toward the man with the face of Ganymede +and the limp of Vulcan. Four times she fought in vain, during dinner, that +drawing, burning glance--and it troubled her. Never before had a man's eye +forced hers in this indescribable fashion. It was almost as if the man had +said, "Look at me! Look at me!" + +After coffee she decided to retire, and bade Dennison good-night. Once in +her room she laid the beads on the dresser and sat down by the window to +recast the remarkable ending of this day. From the stars to the room, from +the room to the stars, her glance roved uneasily. Had she fallen upon an +adventure? Was Dennison's theory correct regarding the beads? She rose and +went to the dresser, inspecting the beads carefully. Positively glass! +That Anthony Cleigh should be seeking a string of glass beads seemed +arrant nonsense. + +She hung the beads on her throat and viewed the result in the mirror. It +was then that her eye met a golden glint. She turned to see what had +caused it, and was astonished to discover on the floor near the molding +that poor Chinaman's brass hand warmer. She picked it up and turned back +the jigsawed lid. The receptacle was filled with the ash of punk and +charcoal. + +There came a knock on the door. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Now, then, the further adventures of Ling Foo of Woosung Road. He was an +honest Chinaman. He would beat you down if he were buying, or he would +overcharge you if he were selling. There was nothing dishonest in this; it +was legitimate business. He was only shrewd, not crooked. But on this day +he came into contact with a situation that tried his soul, and tricked him +into overplaying his hand. + +That morning he had returned to his shop in a contented frame of mind. He +stood clear of the tragedy of the night before. That had never happened; +he had dreamed it. Of course he would be wondering whether or not the man +had died. + +When Ling Foo went forth with his business in his pack he always closed +the shop. Here in upper Woosung Road it would not have paid him to hire a +clerk. His wife, obedient creature though she was, spoke almost no +pidgin--business--English; and besides that, she was a poor bargainer. + +It was hard by noon when he let himself into the shop. The first object he +sought was his metal pipe. Two puffs, and the craving was satisfied. He +took up his counting rack and slithered the buttons back and forth. He had +made three sales at the Astor and two at the Palace, which was fair +business, considering the times. + +A shadow fell across the till top. Ling Foo raised his slanted eyes. His +face was like a graven Buddha's, but there was a crackling in his ears as +of many fire-crackers. There he stood--the man with the sluing walk! Ling +Foo still wore a queue, so his hair could not very well stand on end. + +"You speak English." + +It was not a question; it was a statement. + +Ling Foo shrugged. + +"Can do." + +"Cut out the pidgin. Your neighbour says you speak English fluently. At +Moy's tea-house restaurant they say that you lived in California for +several years." + +"Twelve," said Ling Foo with a certain dry humour. + +"Why didn't you admit me last night?" + +"Shop closed." + +"Where is it?" + +"Where is what?" asked the merchant. + +"The string of glass beads you found on the floor last night." + +A sense of disaster rolled over the Oriental. Had he been overhasty in +ridding himself of the beads? Patience! Wait a bit! Let the stranger open +the door to the mystery. + +"Glass beads?" he repeated, ruminatively. + +"I will give you ten gold for them." + +Ha! Now they were getting somewhere. Ten gold! Then those devil beads had +some worth outside a jeweller's computations? Ling Foo smiled and spread +his yellow hands. + +"I haven't them." + +"Where are they?" + +The Oriental loaded his pipe and fired it. + +"Where is the man who stumbled in here last night?" he countered. + +"His body is probably in the Yang-tse by now," returned Cunningham, +grimly. + +He knew his Oriental. He would have to frighten this Chinaman badly, or +engage his cupidity to a point where resistance would be futile. + +There was a devil brooding over his head. Ling Foo felt it strangely. His +charms were in the far room. He would have to fend off the devil without +material aid, and that was generally a hopeless job. With that twist of +Oriental thought which will never be understood by the Occidental, Ling +Foo laid down his campaign. + +"I found it, true. But I sold it this morning." + +"For how much?" + +"Four Mex." + +Cunningham laughed. It was actually honest laughter, provoked by a lively +sense of humour. + +"To whom did you sell it, and where can I find the buyer?" + +Ling Foo picked up the laughter, as it were, and gave his individual quirk +to it. + +"I see," said Cunningham, gravely. + +"So?" + +"Get that necklace back for me and I will give you a hundred gold." + +"Five hundred." + +"You saw what happened last night." + +"Oh, you will not beat in my head," Ling Foo declared, easily. "What is +there about this string of beads that makes it worth a hundred gold--and +life worth nothing?" + +"Very well," said Cunningham, resignedly. "I am a secret agent of the +British Government. That string of glass beads is the key to a code +relating to the uprisings in India. The loss of it will cost a great deal +of money and time. Bring it back here this afternoon, and I will pay down +five hundred gold." + +"I agree," replied Ling Foo, tossing his pipe into the alcove. "But no one +must follow me. I do not trust you. There is nothing to prevent you from +robbing me in the street and refusing to pay me. And where will you get +five hundred gold? Gold has vanished. Even the leaf has all but +disappeared." + +Cunningham dipped his hand into a pocket, and magically a dozen double +eagles rolled and vibrated upon the counter, sending into Ling Foo's ears +that music so peculiar to gold. Many days had gone by since he had set his +gaze upon the yellow metal. His hand reached down--only to feel--but not +so quickly as the white hand, which scooped up the coin trickily, with the +skill of a prestidigitator. + +"Five hundred gold, then. But are you sure you can get the beads back?" + +Ling Foo smiled. + +"I have a way. I will meet you in the lobby of the Astor House at five"; +and he bowed with Oriental courtesy. + +"Agreed. All aboveboard, remember, or you will feel the iron hand of the +British Government." + +Ling Foo doubted that, but he kept this doubt to himself. + +"I warn you, I shall go armed. You will bring the gold to the Astor House. +If I see you after I depart----" + +"Lord love you, once that code key is in my hands you can go to heaven or +the devil, as you please! We live in rough times, Ling Foo." + +"So we do. There is a stain on the floor, about where you stand. It is the +blood of a white man." + +"What would you, when a comrade attempts to deceive you?" + +"At five in the lobby of the Astor House. Good day," concluded Ling Foo, +fingering the buttons on his counting rack. + +Cunningham limped out into the cold sunshine. Ling Foo shook his head. So +like a boy's, that face! He shuddered slightly. He knew that a savage +devil lay ready behind that handsome mask--he had seen it last night. But +five hundred gold--for a string of glass beads! + +Ling Foo was an honest man. He would pay you cash for cash in a bargain. +If he overcharged you that was your fault, but he never sold you +imitations on the basis that you would not know the difference. If he sold +you a Ming jar--for twice what it was worth in the great marts--experts +would tell you that it was Ming. He had some jade of superior quality--the +translucent deep apple-green. He never carried it about; he never even +spoke of it unless he was sure that the prospective customer was wealthy. + +His safe was in a corner of his workshop. An American yegg would have +laughed at it, opened it as easily as a ripe peach; but in this district +it was absolute security. Ling Foo was obliged to keep a safe, for often +he had valuable pearls to take care of, sometimes to put new vigour in +dying lustre, sometimes to peel a pearl on the chance that under the dull +skin lay the gem. + +He trotted to the front door and locked it; then he trotted into his +workshop, planning. If the glass beads were worth five hundred, wasn't it +likely they would be worth a thousand? If this man who limped had stuck to +the hundred Ling Foo knew that he would have surrendered eventually. But +the ease with which the stranger made the jump from one to five convinced +Ling Foo that there could be no harm in boosting five to ten. If there was +a taint of crookedness anywhere, that would be on the other side. Ling Foo +knew where the beads were, and he would transfer them for one thousand +gold. Smart business, nothing more than that. He had the whip hand. + +Out of his safe he took a blackwood box, beautifully carved, Cantonese. +Headbands, earrings, rings, charms, necklaces, tomb ornaments, some of +them royal, all of them nearly as ancient as the hills of Kwanlun, from +which most of them had been quarried--jade. He trickled them from palm to +palm and one by one returned the objects to the box. In the end he +retained two strings of beads so alike that it was difficult to discern +any difference. One was Kwanlun jade, royal loot; the other was a copy in +Nanshan stone. The first was priceless, worth what any fool collector was +ready to pay; the copy was worth perhaps a hundred gold. Held to the +light, there was a subtle difference; but only an expert could have told +you what this difference was. The royal jade did not catch the light so +strongly as the copy; the touch of human warmth had slightly dulled the +stone. + +Ling Foo transferred the copy to a purse he wore attached to his belt +under the blue jacket. The young woman would never be able to resist the +jade. She would return the glass instantly. A thousand gold, less the cost +of the jade! Good business! + +But for once his Oriental astuteness overreached, as has been seen. And to +add to his discomfiture, he never again saw the copy of the Kwanlun, +representing the virtue of the favourite wife. + + * * * * * + +"I am an honest man," he said. "The tombs of my ancestors are not +neglected. When I say I could not get it I speak the truth. But I believe +I can get it later." + +"How?" asked Cunningham. They were in the office, or bureau, of the Astor +House, which the manager had turned over to them for the moment. +"Remember, the arm of the British Government is long." + +Ling Foo shrugged. + +"Being an honest man, I do not fear. She would have given it to me but for +that officer. He knew something about jade." + +Cunningham nodded. + +"Conceivably he would." He jingled the gold in his pocket. "How do you +purpose to get the beads?" + +"Go to the lady's room late. I left the jade with her. Alone, she will not +resist. I saw it in her eyes. But it will be difficult." + +"I see. For you to get into the hotel late. I'll arrange that with the +manager. You will be coming to my room. What floor is her room on?" + +"The third." + +"The same as mine. That falls nicely. Return then at half after ten. You +will come to my room for the gold." + +Ling Foo saw his thousand shrink to the original five hundred, but there +was no help for it. At half after ten he knocked on the panel of Jane's +door and waited. He knocked again; still the summons was not answered. The +third assault was emphatic. Ling Foo heard footsteps, but behind him. He +turned. The meddling young officer was striding toward him. + +"What are you doing here?" Dennison demanded. + +His own appearance in the corridor at this hour might have been +subjectable to inquiry. He had left Jane at nine. He had seen her to the +lift. Perhaps he had walked the Bund for an hour or two, but worriedly. +The thought of the arrival in Shanghai of his father and the rogue +Cunningham convinced him that some queer game was afoot, and that it +hinged somehow upon those beads. + +There was no sighing in regard to his father, for the past that was. An +astonishing but purely accidental meeting; to-morrow each would go his +separate way again. All that was a closed page. He had long ago readjusted +his outlook on the basis that reconciliation was hopeless. + +A sudden impulse spun him on his heel, and he hurried back to the Astor. +The hour did not matter, or the possibility that Jane might be abed. He +would ask permission to become the temporary custodian of the beads. What +were they, to have brought his father across the Pacific--if indeed they +had? Anyhow, he would end his own anxiety in regard to Jane by assuming +the risks, if any, himself. + +No one questioned him; his uniform was a passport that required no vise. + +Ling Foo eyed him blandly. + +"I am leaving for the province in the morning, so I had to come for my +jade to-night. But the young lady is not in her room." + +"She must be!" cried Dennison, alarmed. "Miss Norman?" he called, beating +on the door. + +No sound answered from within. Dennison pondered for a moment. Ling Foo +also pondered--apprehensively. He suspected that some misfortune had +befallen the young woman, for her kind did not go prowling alone round +Shanghai at night. Slue-Foot! Should he utter his suspicion to this +American officer? But if it should become a police affair! Bitterly he +arraigned himself for disclosing his hand to Slue-Foot. That demon had +forestalled him. No doubt by now he had the beads. Ten thousand devils +pursue him! + +Dennison struck his hands together, and by and by a sleepy Chinese boy +came scuffling along the corridor. + +"Talkee manager come topside," said Dennison. When the manager arrived, +perturbed, Dennison explained the situation. + +"Will you open the door?" + +The manager agreed to do that. The bedroom was empty. The bed had not been +touched. But there was no evidence that the occupant did not intend to +return. + +"We shall leave everything just as it is," said Dennison, authoritatively. +"I am her friend. If she does not return by one o'clock I shall notify the +police and have the young lady's belongings transferred to the American +consulate. She is under the full protection of the United States +Government. You will find out if any saw her leave the hotel, and what the +time was. Stay here in the doorway while I look about." + +He saw the jade necklace reposing in the soap dish, and in an ironical +mood he decided not to announce the discovery to the Chinaman. Let him pay +for his cupidity. In some mysterious manner he had got his yellow claws on +those infernal beads, and the rogue Cunningham had gone to him with a +substantial bribe. So let the pigtail wail for his jade. + +On the dresser he saw a sheet of paper partly opened. Beside it lay a torn +envelope. Dennison's heart lost a beat. The handwriting was his father's! + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Jane had gone to meet his father. How to secrete this note without being +observed by either the manager or the Chinaman? An accident came to his +aid. Someone in the corridor banged a door violently, and as the manager's +head and Ling Foo's jerked about, Dennison stuffed the note into a +pocket. + +A trap! Dennison wasn't alarmed--he was only furious. Jane had walked into +a trap. She had worn those accursed beads when his father had approached +her by the bookstall that afternoon. The note had attacked her curiosity +from a perfectly normal angle. Dennison had absorbed enough of the note's +contents to understand how readily Jane had walked into the trap. + +Very well. He would wait in the lobby until one; then if Jane had not +returned he would lay the plans of a counter-attack, and it would be a +rough one. Of course no bodily harm would befall Jane, but she would +probably be harried and bullied out of those beads. But would she? It was +not unlikely that she would become a pretty handful, once she learned she +had been tricked. If she balked him, how would the father act? The old +boy was ruthless when he particularly wanted something. + +If anything should happen to her--an event unlooked for, accidental, over +which his father would have no control--this note would bring the old boy +into a peck of trouble; and Dennison was loyal enough not to wish this to +happen. And yet it would be only just to make the father pay once for his +high-handedness. That would be droll--to see his father in the dock, +himself as a witness against him! Here was the germ of a tiptop drama. + +But all this worry was doubtless being wasted upon mere supposition. Jane +might turn over the beads without bargaining, provided the father had any +legal right to them, which Dennison strongly doubted. + +He approached Ling Foo and seized him roughly by the arm. + +"What do you know about these glass beads?" + +Ling Foo elevated a shoulder and let it fall. + +"Nothing, except that the man who owns them demands that I recover them." + +"And who is this man?" + +"I don't know his name." + +"That won't pass. You tell me who he is or I'll turn you over to the +police." + +"I am an honest man," replied Ling Foo with dignity. He appealed to the +manager. + +"I have known Ling Foo a long time, sir. He is perfectly honest." + +Ling Foo nodded. He knew that this recommendation, honest as it was, would +have weight with the American. + +"But you have some appointment with this man. Where is that to be? I +demand to know that." + +Ling Foo saw his jade vanish along with his rainbow gold. His early +suppositions had been correct. + +Those were devil beads, and evil befell any who touched them. + +Silently he cursed the soldier's ancestors half a thousand years back. If +the white fool hadn't meddled in the parlour that afternoon! + +"Come with me," he said, finally. + +The game was played out; the counters had gone back to the basket. He had +no desire to come into contact with police officials. Only it was as +bitter as the gall of chicken, and he purposed to lessen his own +discomfort by making the lame man share it. Oriental humour. + +Dennison and the hotel manager followed him curiously. At the end of the +corridor Ling Foo stopped and knocked on a door. It was opened +immediately. + +"Ah! Oh!" + +The inflections touched Dennison's sense of humour, and he smiled. A +greeting with a snap-back of dismay. + +"I'm not surprised," he said. "I had a suspicion I'd find you in this +somewhere." + +"Find me in what?" asked Cunningham, his poise recovered. He, too, began +to smile. "Won't you come in?" + +"What about these glass beads?" + +"Glass beads? Oh, yes. But why?" + +"I fancy you'd better come out into the clear, Cunningham," said Dennison, +grimly. + +"You wish to know about those beads? Very well, I'll explain, because +something has happened--I know not what. You all look so infernally +serious. Those beads are a key to a code. The British Government is keenly +anxious to recover this key. In the hands of certain Hindus those beads +would constitute bad medicine." + +Ling Foo spread his hands relievedly. + +"That is the story. I was to receive five hundred gold for their +recovery." + +"A code key," said Dennison, musing. + +He knew Cunningham was lying. Anthony Cleigh wasn't the man to run across +half the world for a British code key. On the other hand, perhaps it would +be wise to let the hotel manager and the Chinaman continue in the belief +that the affair concerned a British code. + +"If I did not know you tolerably well----" + +"My dear captain, you don't know me at all," interrupted Cunningham. "Have +you got the beads?" + +"I have not. I doubt if you will ever lay eyes on them again." + +Something flashed across the handsome face. Ling Foo alone recognized it. +He had glimpsed it, this expression, outside his window the night before. +He recalled the dark stain on the floor of his shop, and he also +recollected a saying of Confucius relative to greed. He wished he was back +in his shop, well out of this muddle. The jade could go, valuable as it +was. With his hands tucked in his sleeves he waited. + +Dennison turned upon the manager. He wanted to be alone with Cunningham. + +"Go down and make inquiries, and take this Chinaman with you. I'll be with +you shortly." As soon as the two were out of the way Dennison said: +"Cunningham, the lady who wore those beads at dinner to-night has gone out +alone, wearing them. If I find that you are anywhere back of this +venture--if she does not return shortly--I will break you as I would a +churchwarden pipe." + +Cunningham appeared genuinely taken aback. + +"She went out alone?" + +"Yes." + +"Have you notified the police?" + +"Not yet. I'm giving her until one; then I shall start something." + +"Something tells me," said Cunningham, easily, "that Miss Norman is in no +danger. But she would never have gone out if I had been in the lobby. If +she has not returned by one call me. Any assistance I can give will be +given gladly. Women ought never to be mixed up in affairs such as this +one, on this side of the world. Tell your father that he ought to know by +this time that he is no match for me." + +"What do you mean by that?" + +"Innocent! You know very well what I mean. If you hadn't a suspicion of +what has happened you would be roaring up and down the corridors with the +police. You run true to the breed. It's a good one, I'll admit. But your +father will regret this night's work." + +"Perhaps. Here, read this." + +Dennison extended the note. Cunningham, his brows bent, ran through the +missive. + + MISS NORMAN: Will you do me the honour to meet me at the bridgehead + at half-past nine--practically at once? My son and I are not on + friendly terms. Still, I am his father, and I'd like to hear what he + has been doing over here. I will have a limousine, and we can ride + out on the Bubbling Well Road while we talk. + + ANTHONY CLEIGH. + +"Didn't know," said Cunningham, returning the note, "that you two were at +odds. But this is a devil of a mix-up, if it's what I think." + +"What do you think?" + +"That he's abducted her--carried her off to the yacht." + +"He's no fool," was the son's defense. + +"He isn't, eh? Lord love you, sonny, your father and I are the two biggest +fools on all God's earth!" + +The door closed sharply in Dennison's face and the key rasped in the +lock. + +For a space Dennison did not stir. Why should he wish to protect his +father? Between his father and this handsome rogue there was small choice. +The old boy made such rogues possible. But supposing Cleigh had wished +really to quiz Jane? To find out something about these seven years, lean +and hard, with stretches of idleness and stretches of furious labour, +loneliness? Well, the father would learn that in all these seven years the +son had never faltered from the high level he had set for his conduct. +That was a stout staff to lean on--he had the right to look all men +squarely in the eye. + +He had been educated to inherit millions; he had not been educated to +support himself by work in a world that specialized. He had in these seven +years been a jeweller's clerk, an auctioneer in a salesroom; he had +travelled from Baluchistan to Damascus with carpet caravans, but he had +never forged ahead financially. Generally the end of a job had been the +end of his resources. One fact the thought of which never failed to buck +him up--he had never traded on his father's name. + +Then had come the war. He had returned to America, trained, and they had +assigned him to Russia. But that had not been without its reward--he had +met Jane. + +In a New York bank, to his credit, was the sum of twenty thousand dollars, +at compound interest for seven years, ready to answer to the scratch of a +pen, but he had sworn he would never touch a dollar of it. Never before +had the thought of it risen so strongly to tempt him. His for the mere +scratch of a pen! + +In the lobby he found the manager pacing nervously, while Ling Foo sat +patiently and inscrutably. + +"Why do you wait?" inquired Dennison, irritably. + +"The lady has some jade of mine," returned Ling Foo, placidly. "It was a +grave mistake." + +"What was?" + +"That you interfered this afternoon. The lady would be in her room at this +hour. The devil beads would not be casting a spell on us." + +"Devil beads, eh?" + +Ling Foo shrugged and ran his hands into his sleeves. Somewhere along the +banks of the Whangpoo or the Yang-tse would be the body of an unknown, but +Ling Foo's lips were locked quite as securely as the dead man's. Devil +beads they were. + +"When did the man upstairs leave the beads with you?" + +"Last night." + +"For what reason?" + +"He will tell you. It is none of my affair now." And that was all Dennison +could dig out of Ling Foo. + +Jane Norman did not return at one o'clock; in fact, she never returned to +the Astor House. Dennison waited until three; then he went back to the +Palace, and Ling Foo to his shop and oblivion. + +Dennison decided that he did not want the police in the affair. In that +event there would be a lot of publicity, followed by the kind of talk that +stuck. He was confident that he could handle the affair alone. So he +invented a white lie, and nobody questioned it because of his uniform. +Miss Norman had found friends, and shortly she would send for her effects; +but until that time she desired the consulate to take charge. Under the +eyes of the relieved hotel manager and an indifferent clerk from the +consulate the following morning Dennison packed Jane's belongings and +conveyed them to the consulate, which was hard by. Next he proceeded to +the water front and engaged a motor boat. At eleven o'clock he drew up +alongside the _Wanderer II_. + +"Hey, there!" shouted a seaman. "Sheer off! Orders to receive no +visitors!" + +Dennison began to mount, ignoring the order. It was a confusing situation +for the sailor. If he threw this officer into the yellow water--as +certainly he would have thrown a civilian--Uncle Sam might jump on his +back and ride him to clink. Against this was the old man, the very devil +for obedience to his orders. If he pushed this lad over, the clink; if he +let him by, the old man's foot. And while the worried seaman was reaching +for water with one hand and wind with the other, as the saying goes, +Dennison thrust him roughly aside, crossed the deck to the main +companionway, and thundered down into the salon. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Cleigh sat before a card table; he was playing Chinese Canfield. He looked +up, but he neither rose nor dropped the half-spent deck of cards he held +in his hand. The bronzed face, the hard agate blue of the eyes that met +his own, the utter absence of visible agitation, took the wind out of +Dennison's sails and left him all a-shiver, like a sloop coming about on a +fresh tack. He had made his entrance stormily enough, but now the hot +words stuffed his throat to choking. + +Cleigh was thirty years older than his son; he was a finished master of +sentimental emotions; he could keep all his thoughts out of his +countenance when he so willed. But powerful as his will was, in this +instance it failed to reach down into his heart; and that thumped against +his ribs rather painfully. The boy! + +Dennison, aware that he stood close to the ridiculous, broke the spell and +advanced. + +"I have come for Miss Norman," he said. + +Cleigh scrutinized the cards and shifted one. + +"I found your note to her. I've a launch. I don't know what the game is, +but I'm going to take Miss Norman back with me if I have to break in every +door on board!" + +Cleigh stood up. As he did so Dodge, the Texan appeared in the doorway to +the dining salon. Dennison saw the blue barrel of a revolver. + +"A gunman, eh? All right. Let's see if he'll shoot," said the son, walking +deliberately toward Dodge. + +"No, Dodge!" Cleigh called out as the Texan, raised the revolver. "You may +go." + +Dodge, a good deal astonished, backed out. Once more father and son stared +at each other. + +"Better call it off," advised the son. "You can't hold Miss Norman--and I +can make a serious charge. Bring her at once, or I'll go for her. And the +Lord help the woodwork if I start!" + +But even as he uttered the threat Dennison heard a sound behind. He +turned, but not soon enough. In a second he was on the floor, three husky +seamen mauling him. They had their hands full for a while, but in the end +they conquered. + +"What next, sir?" asked one of the sailors, breathing hard. + +"Tie him up and lock him in Cabin Two." + +The first order was executed. After Dennison's arms and ankles were bound +the men stood him up. + +"Are you really my father?" + +Cleigh returned to his cards and shuffled them for a new deal. + +"Don't untie him. He might walk through the partition. He will have the +freedom of the deck when we are out of the delta." + +Dennison was thereupon carried to Cabin Two, and deposited upon the +stationary bed. He began to laugh. There was a sardonic note in this +laughter, like that which greets you when you recount some incredible +tale. His old cabin! + +The men shook their heads, as if confronted by something so unusual that +it wasn't worth while to speculate upon it. The old man's son! They went +out, locking the door. By this time Dennison's laughter had reached the +level of shouting, but only he knew how near it was to tears--wrathful, +murderous, miserable tears! He fought his bonds terrifically for a moment, +then relaxed. + +For seven years he had been hugging the hope that when he and his father +met blood would tell, and that their differences would vanish in a strong +handclasp; and here he lay, trussed hand and foot, in his old cabin, not a +crack in that granite lump his father called a heart! + +A childish thought! Some day to take that twenty thousand with accrued +interest, ride up to the door, step inside, dump the silver on that old +red Samarkand, and depart--forever. + +Where was she? This side of the passage or the other? + +"Miss Norman?" he called. + +"Yes?" came almost instantly from the cabin aft. + +"This is Captain Dennison. I'm tied up and lying on the bed. Can you hear +me distinctly?" + +"Yes. Your father has made a prisoner of you? Of all the inhuman acts! You +came in search of me?" + +"Naturally. Have you those infernal beads?" + +"No." + +Dennison twisted about until he had his shoulders against the brass rail +of the bed head. + +"What happened?" + +"It was a trick. It was not to talk about you--he wanted the beads, and +that made me furious." + +"Were you hurt in the struggle?" + +"There wasn't any. I really don't know what possessed me. Perhaps I was a +bit hypnotized. Perhaps I was curious. Perhaps I wanted--some excitement. +On my word, I don't know just what happened. Anyhow, here I am--in a +dinner gown, bound for Hong-Kong, so he says. He offered me ten thousand +for the beads, and my freedom, if I would promise not to report his +high-handedness; and I haven't uttered a sound." + +"Heaven on earth, why didn't you accept his offer?" + +A moment of silence. + +"In the first place, I haven't the beads. In the second place, I want to +make him all the trouble I possibly can. Now that he has me, he doesn't +know what to do with me. Hoist by his own petard. Do you want the truth? +Well, I'm not worried in the least. I feel as if I'd been invited to some +splendiferous picnic." + +"That's foolish," he remonstrated. + +"Of course it is. But it's the sort of foolishness I've been aching for +all my life. I knew something was going to happen. I broke my hand mirror +night before last. Two times seven years' bad luck. Now he has me, I'll +wager he's half frightened out of his wits. But what made you think of the +yacht?" + +"We forced the door of your room, and I found the note. Has he told you +what makes those infernal beads so precious?" + +"No. I can't figure that out." + +"No more can I. Did he threaten you?" + +"Yes. Would I enter the launch peacefully, or would he have to carry me? I +didn't want my gown spoiled--it's the only decent one I have. I'm not +afraid. It isn't as though he were a stranger. Being your father, he would +never stoop to any indignity. But he'll find he has caught a tartar. I +had an idea you'd find me." + +"Well, I have. But you won't get to Hong-Kong. The minute he liberates me +I'll sneak into the wireless room and bring the destroyers. I didn't +notify the police from a bit of foolish sentiment. I didn't quite want you +mixed up in the story. I had your things conveyed to the consulate." + +"My story--which few men would believe. I've thought of that. Are you +smoking?" + +"Smoking, with my hands tied behind my back? Not so you'd notice it." + +"I smell tobacco smoke--a good cigar, too." + +"Then someone is in the passage listening." + +Silence. Anthony Cleigh eyed his perfecto rather ruefully and tiptoed back +to the salon. Hoist by his own petard. He was beginning to wonder. Cleigh +was a man who rarely regretted an act, but in the clear light of day he +was beginning to have his doubts regarding this one. A mere feather on the +wrong side of the scale, and the British destroyers would be atop of him +like a flock of kites. Abduction! Cut down to bedrock, he had laid himself +open to that. He ran his fingers through his cowlicks. But drat the woman! +why had she accepted the situation so docilely? Since midnight not a sound +out of her, not a wail, not a sob. Now he had her, he couldn't let her +go. She was right there. + +There was one man in the crew Cleigh had begun to dislike intensely, and +he had been manoeuvring ever since Honolulu to find a legitimate excuse to +give the man his papers. Something about the fellow suggested covert +insolence; he had the air of a beachcomber who had unexpectedly fallen +into a soft berth, and it had gone to his head. He had been standing watch +at the ladder head, and against positive orders he had permitted a visitor +to pass him. To Cleigh this was the handle he had been hunting for. He +summoned the man. + +"Get your duffle," said Cleigh. + +"What's that, sir?" + +"Get your stuff. You're through. You had positive orders, and you let a +man by." + +"But his uniform fussed me, sir. I didn't know just how to act." + +"Get your stuff! Mr. Cleve will give you your pay. My orders are absolute. +Off with you!" + +The sailor sullenly obeyed. He found the first officer alone in the chart +house. + +"The boss has sent me for my pay, Mr. Cleve. I'm fired." Flint grinned +amiably. + +"Fired? Well, well," said Cleve, "that's certainly tough luck--all this +way from home. I'll have to pay you in Federal Reserve bills. The old man +has the gold." + +"Federal Reserve it is. Forty-six dollars in Uncle Samuels." + +The first officer solemnly counted out the sum and laid it on the palm of +the discharged man. + +"Tough world." + +"Oh, I'm not worrying! I'll bet you this forty-six against ten that I've +another job before midnight." + +Mr. Cleve grinned. + +"Always looking for sure-thing bets! Better hail that bumboat with the +vegetables to row you into town. The old man'll dump you over by hand if +he finds you here between now and sundown." + +"I'll try the launch there. Tell the lad his fare ain't goin' back to +Shanghai. Of course it makes it a bit inconvenient, packing and unpacking; +but I guess I can live through it. But what about the woman?" + +Cleve plucked at his chin. + +"Messes up the show a bit. Pippin, though. I like 'em when they walk +straight and look straight like this one. Notice her hair? You never tame +that sort beyond parlour manners. But I don't like her on board here, or +the young fellow, either. Don't know him, but he's likely to bust the +yacht wide open if he gets loose." + +"Well, so long, Mary! Know what my first move'll be?" + +"A bottle somewhere. But mind your step! Don't monkey with the stuff +beyond normal. You know what I mean." + +"Sure! Only a peg or two, after all this psalm-singing!" + +"I know, Flint. But this game is no joke. You know what happened in town? +Morrissy was near croaked." + +Flint's face lost some of its gayety. + +"Oh, I know how to handle the stuff! See you later." + + * * * * * + +Cleigh decided to see what the girl's temper was, so he entered the +passage on the full soles of his shoes. He knocked on her door. + +"Miss Norman?" + +"Well?" + +That was a good sign; she was ready to talk. + +"I have come to repeat that offer." + +"Mr. Cleigh, I have nothing to say so long as the key is on the wrong side +of the door." + +Cleigh heard a chuckle from Cabin Two. + +"Very well," he said. "Remember, I offered you liberty conditionally. If +you suffer inconveniences after to-night you will have only yourself to +thank." + +"Have you calculated that some day you will have to let me go?" + +"Yes, I have calculated on that." + +"And that I shall go to the nearest authorities and report this action?" + +"If you will think a moment," said Cleigh, his tone monotonously level, +"you will dismiss that plan for two reasons: First, that no one will +believe you; second, that no one will want to believe you. That's as near +as I care to put it. Your imagination will grasp it." + +"Instantly!" cried the girl, hotly. "I knew you to be cold and hard, but I +did not believe you were a scoundrel--having known your son!" + +"I have no son." + +"Oh, yes, you have!" + +"I disowned him. He is absolutely nothing to me." + +"I do not believe that," came back through the cabin door. + +"Nevertheless, it is the truth. The queer part is, I've tried to resurrect +the father instinct, and can't. I've tried to go round the wall--over it. +I might just as well try to climb the Upper Himalayas." + +In Cabin Two the son stared at the white ceiling. It seemed to him that +all his vitals had been wrenched out of him, leaving him hollow, empty. He +knew his father's voice; it rang with truth. + +"I offer you ten thousand." + +"The key is still on the outside." + +"I'm afraid to trust you." + +"We understand each other perfectly," said Jane, ironically. + +The son smiled. The sense of emptiness vanished, and there came into his +blood a warmth as sweet as it was strong. Jane Norman, angel of mercy. He +heard his father speaking again: + +"Since you will have it so, you will go to Hong-Kong?" + +"To Patagonia if you wish! You cannot scare me by threatening me with +travel on a private yacht. I had the beads, it is true; but at this moment +I haven't the slightest idea where they are; and if I had I should not +tell you. I refuse to buy my liberty; you will have to give it to me +without conditions." + +"I'm sorry I haven't anything on board in shape of women's clothes, but +I'll send for your stuff if you wish." + +"That is the single consideration you have shown me. My belongings are at +the American consulate, and I should be glad to have them." + +"You will find paper and ink in the escritoire. Write me an order and I +promise to attend to the matter personally." + +"And search through everything at your leisure!" + +Cleigh blushed, and he heard his son chuckle again. He had certainly +caught a tartar--possibly two. With a twisted smile he recalled the old +yarn of the hunter who caught the bear by the tail. Willing to let go, and +daring not! + +"Still I agree," continued the girl. "I want my own familiar things--if I +must take this forced voyage. But mark me, Mr. Cleigh, you will pay some +day! I'm not the clinging kind, and I shall fight you tooth and nail from +the first hour of my freedom. I'm not without friends." + +"Never in this world!" came resonantly from Cabin Two. + +Cleigh longed to get away. There was a rumbling and a threatening inside +of him that needed space--Gargantuan laughter. Not the clinging kind, this +girl! And the boy, walking straight at Dodge's villainous revolver! Why, +he would need the whole crew behind him when he liberated these two! But +he knew that the laughter striving for articulation was not the kind heard +in Elysian fields! + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +"If you will write the order I will execute it at once. The consulate +closes early." + +"I'll write it, but how will I get it to you? The door closes below the +sill." + +"When you are ready, call, and I will open the door a little." + +"It would be better if you opened it full wide. This is China--I +understand that. But we are both Americans, and there's a good sound law +covering an act like this." + +"But it does not reach as far as China. Besides, I have an asset back in +the States. It is my word. I have never broken it to any man or woman, and +I expect I never shall. You have, or have had, what I consider my +property. You have hedged the question; you haven't been frank." + +The son listened intently. + +"I bought that string of glass beads in good faith of a Chinaman--Ling +Foo. I consider them mine--that is, if they are still in my possession. +Between the hour I met you last night and the moment of Captain Dennison's +entrance to my room considerable time had elapsed." + +"Sufficient for a rogue like Cunningham to make good use of," supplemented +the prisoner in Cabin Two. "There's a way of finding out the facts." + +"Indeed?" + +"Yes. You used to carry a planchette that once belonged to the actress +Rachel. Why not give it a whirl? Everybody's doing it." + +Cleigh eyed Cabin Four, then Cabin Two, and shook his head slightly, +dubiously. He was not getting on well. To come into contact with a strong +will was always acceptable; and a strong will in a woman was a novelty. +All at once it struck him forcibly that he stood on the edge of boredom; +that the lure which had brought him fully sixteen thousand miles was +losing its bite. Was he growing old, drying up? + +"Will you tell me what it is about these beads that makes you offer ten +thousand for them? Glass--anybody could see that. What makes them as +valuable as pearls?" + +"They are love beads," answered Cleigh, mockingly. "They are far more +potent than powdered pearls. You have worn them about your throat, Miss +Norman, and the sequence is inevitable." + +"Nonsense!" cried Jane. + +Dennison added his mite to the confusion: + +"I thought that scoundrel Cunningham was lying. He said the string was a +code key belonging to the British Intelligence Office." + +"Rot!" Cleigh exploded. + +"So I thought." + +"But hurry, Miss Norman. The sooner I have that written order on the +consulate the sooner you'll have your belongings." + +"Very well." + +Five minutes later she announced that the order was completed, and Cleigh +opened the door slightly. + +"The key will be given you the moment we weigh anchor." + +"I say," called the son, "you might drop into the Palace and get my truck, +too. I'm particular about my toothbrushes." A pause. "I'd like a drink, +too--if you've got the time." + +Cleigh did not answer, but he presently entered Cabin Two, filled a glass +with water, raised his son's head to a proper angle, and gave him drink. + +"Thanks. This business strikes me as the funniest thing I ever heard of! +You would have done that for a dog." + +Cleigh replaced the water carafe in the rack above the wash bowl and went +out, locking the door. In the salon he called for Dodge: + +"I am going into town. I'll be back round five. Don't stir from this +cabin." + +"Yes, sir." + +"You remember that fellow who was here night before last?" + +"The good-looking chap that limped?" + +"Yes." + +"And I'm to crease him if he pokes his noodle down the stairs?" + +"Exactly! No talk, no palaver! If he starts talking he'll talk you out of +your boots. Shoot!" + +"In the leg? All right." + +His employer having gone, Dodge sat in a corner from which he could see +the companionway and all the passages. He lit a long black cigar, laid his +formidable revolver on a knee, and began his vigil. A queer job for an old +cow-punch, for a fact. + +To guard an old carpet that didn't have "welcome" on it anywhere--he +couldn't get that, none whatever. But there was a hundred a week, the best +grub pile in the world, and the old man's Havanas as often as he pleased. +Pretty soft! + +And he had learned a new trick--shooting target in a rolling sea. He had +wasted a hundred rounds before getting the hang of it. Maybe these sailors +hadn't gone pop-eyed when they saw him pumping lead into the bull's-eye +six times running? Tin cans and raw potatoes in the water, too. Something +to brag about if he ever got back home. + +He broke the gun and inspected the cylinder. There wasn't as much grease +on the cartridges as he would have liked. + + * * * * * + +"Miss Norman?" called Dennison. + +"What is it?" + +"Are you comfortable?" + +"Oh, I'm all right. I'm only furious with rage, that's all. You are still +tied?" + +"Yes, ma'am." + +"I really don't understand your father." + +"I have never understood him. Yet he was very kind to me when I was +little. I don't suppose there is anything in heaven or on earth that he's +afraid of." + +"He is afraid of me." + +"Do you believe that?" + +"I know it. He would give anything to be rid of me. But go on." + +"With what?" + +"Your past." + +"Well, I'm something like him physically. We are both so strong that we +generally burst through rather than take the trouble to go round. I'm +honestly sorry for him. Not a human being to love or be loved by. He never +had a dog. I don't recollect my mother; she died when I was three; and +that death had something to do with the iron in his soul. Our old butler +used to tell me that Father cursed horribly, I mean blasphemously, when +they took the mother out of the house. There are some men like that, who +love terribly, away and beyond the average human ability. After the mother +died he plunged into the money game. He was always making it, piling it up +ruthlessly but honestly. Then that craving petered out, and he took a hand +in the collecting game. What will come next I don't know. As a boy I was +always afraid of him. He was kind to me, but in the abstract. I was like +an extra on the grocer's bill. He put me into the hands of a tutor--a +lovable old dreamer--and paid no more attention to me. He never put his +arms round me and told me fairy stories." + +"Poor little boy! No fairy stories!" + +"Nary a one until I began to have playmates." + +"Do the ropes hurt?" + +"They might if I were alone." + +"What do you make of the beads?" + +"Only that they have some strange value, or father wouldn't be after them. +Love beads! Doesn't sound half so plausible as Cunningham's version." + +"That handsome man who limped?" + +"Yes." + +"A real adventurer--the sort one reads about!" + +"And the queer thing about him, he keeps his word, too, for all his +business is a shady one. I don't suppose there is a painting or a jewel or +a book of the priceless sort that he doesn't know about, where it is and +if it can be got at. Some of his deals are aboveboard, but many of them +aren't. I'll wager these beads have a story of loot." + +"What he steals doesn't hurt the poor." + +"So long as the tigers fight among themselves and leave the goats alone, +it doesn't stir you. Is that it?" + +"Possibly." + +"And besides, he's a handsome beggar, if there ever was one." + +"He has the face of an angel!" + +"And the soul of a vandal!"--with a touch of irritability. + +"Now you aren't fair. A vandal destroys things; this man only +transfers----" + +"For a handsome monetary consideration----" + +"Only transfers a picture from one gallery to another." + +"Well, we've seen the last of him for a while, anyhow." + +"I wonder." + +"Will you answer me a question?" + +"Perhaps." + +"Do you know where those beads are?" + +"A little while gone I smelt tobacco smoke," she answered, dryly. + +"I see. We'll talk of something else then. Have you ever been in love?" + +"Have you?" + +"Violently--so I believed." + +"But you got over it?" + +"Absolutely! And you?" + +"Oh, I haven't had the time. I've been too busy earning bread and butter. +What was she like?" + +"A beautiful mirage--the lie in the desert, you might say. Has it ever +occurred to you that the mirage is the one lie Nature utters?" + +"I hadn't thought. She deceived you?" + +"Yes." + +A short duration of silence. + +"Doesn't hurt to talk about her?" + +"Lord, no! Because I wasn't given fairy stories when I was little, I took +them seriously when I was twenty-three." + +"Puppy love." + +"It went a little deeper than that." + +"But you don't hate women?" + +"No. I never hated the woman who deceived me. I was terribly sorry for +her." + +"For having lost so nice a husband?"--with a bit of malice. + +He greeted this with laughter. + +"It is written," she observed, "that we must play the fool sometime or +other." + +"Have you ever played it?" + +"Not yet, but you never can tell." + +"Jane, you're a brick!" + +"Jane!" she repeated. "Well, I don't suppose there's any harm in your +calling me that, with partitions in between." + +"They used to call me Denny." + +"And you want me to call you that?" + +"Will you?" + +"I'll think it over--Denny!" + +They laughed. Both recognized the basic fact in this running patter. Each +was trying to buck up the other. Jane was honestly worried. She could not +say what it was that worried her, but there was a strong leaven in her of +old-wives' prescience. It wasn't due to this high-handed adventure of +Cleigh, senior; it was something leaning down darkly from the future that +worried her. That hand mirror! + +"Better not talk any more," she advised. "You'll be getting thirsty." + +"I'm already that." + +"You're a brave man, captain," she said, her tone altering from gayety to +seriousness. "Don't worry about me. I've always been able to take care of +myself, though I've never been confronted with this kind of a situation +before. Frankly, I don't like it. But I suspect that your father will have +more respect for us if we laugh at him. Has he a sense of humour?" + +"My word for it, he has! What could be more humorous than tying me up in +this fashion and putting me in the cabin that used to be mine? Ten +thousand for a string of glass beads! I say, Jane!" + +"What?" + +"When he comes back tell him you might consider twenty thousand, just to +get an idea what the thing is worth." + +"I'll promise that." + +"All right. Then I'll try to snooze a bit. Getting stuffy lying on my +back." + +"The brute! If I could only help you!" + +"You have--you are--you will!" + +He turned on his side, his face toward the door. His arms and legs began +to sting with the sensation known as sleep. He was glad his father had +overheard the initial conversation. A wave of terror ran over him at the +thought of being set ashore while Jane went on. Still he could have sent a +British water terrier in hot pursuit. + +Jane sat down and took inventory. She knew but little about antiques--rugs +and furniture--but she was full of inherent love of the beautiful. The +little secretary upon which she had written the order on the consulate was +an exquisite lowboy of old mahogany of dull finish. On the floor were +camel saddle-bays, Persian in pattern. On the panel over the lowboy was a +small painting, a foot broad and a foot and a half long. It was old--she +could tell that much. It was a portrait, tender and quaint. She would have +gasped had she known that it was worth a cover of solid gold. It was a +Holbein, The Younger, for which Cleigh some years gone had paid Cunningham +sixteen thousand dollars. Where and how Cunningham had acquired it was not +open history. + +An hour passed. By and by she rose and tiptoed to the partition. She held +her ear against the panel, and as she heard nothing she concluded that +Denny--why not?--was asleep. Next she gazed out of the port. It was +growing dark outside, overcast. It would rain again probably. A drab sky, +a drab shore. She saw a boat filled with those luscious vegetables which +wrote typhus for any white person who ate them. A barge went by piled high +with paddy bags--rice in the husk--with Chinamen at the forward and stern +sweeps. She wondered if these poor yellow people had ever known what it +was to play? + +Suddenly she fell back, shocked beyond measure. From the direction of the +salon--a pistol shot! This was followed by the tramp of hurrying feet. +Voices, now sharp, now rumbling--this grew nearer. A struggle of some +dimensions was going on in the passage. The racket reached her door, but +did not pause there. She sank into the chair, a-tremble. + +Dennison struggled to a sitting posture. + +"Jane?" + +"Yes!" + +"Are you all right?" + +"Yes, what has happened?" + +"A bit of mutiny, I take it; but it seems to be over." + +"But the shot!" + +"I heard no cry of pain, only a lot of scuffling and some high words. +Don't worry." + +"I won't. Can't you break a piece of glass and saw your way out?" + +"Lord love you, that's movie stuff! If I had a razor, I couldn't manage it +without hacking off my hands. You are worried!" + +"I'm a woman, Denny. I'm not afraid of your father; but if there is +mutiny, with all these treasures on board--and over here----" + +"All right. I'll make a real effort." + +She could hear him stumbling about. She heard the crash of the water +carafe on the floor. Several minutes dragged by. + +"Can't be done!" said Dennison. "Can't make the broken glass stay put. +Can't reach my ankles, either, or I could get my feet free. There's a +double latch on your door. See to it! Lord!" + +"What is it?" + +"Nothing. Just hunting round for some cuss words. Put the chair up against +the door knob and sit tight for a while." + +The hours dragged by in stifling silence. + +Meanwhile, Cleigh, having attended to errands, lunched, had gone to the +American consulate and presented the order. His name and reputation +cleared away the official red tape. He explained that all the fuss of the +night before had been without cause. Miss Norman had come aboard the +yacht, and now decided to go to Hong-Kong with the family. This suggested +the presence of other women on board. In the end, Jane's worldly goods +were consigned to Cleigh, who signed the receipt and made off for the +launch. + +It was growing dark. On the way down the river Cleigh made no attempt to +search for the beads. + +The salon lights snapped up as the launch drew alongside. Once below, +Cleigh dumped Jane's possessions into the nearest chair and turned to +give Dodge an order--only to find the accustomed corner vacant! + +"Dodge!" he shouted. He ran to the passage. "Dodge, where the devil are +you?" + +"Did you call, sir?" + +Cleigh spun about. In the doorway to the dining salon stood Cunningham, on +his amazingly handsome face an expression of anxious solicitude! + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Cleigh was not only a big and powerful man--he was also courageous, but +the absence of Dodge and the presence of Cunningham offered such sinister +omen that temporarily he was bereft of his natural wit and initiative. + +"Where's Dodge?" he asked, stupidly. + +"Dodge is resting quietly," answered Cunningham, gravely. "He'll be on his +feet in a day or two." + +That seemed to wake up Cleigh a bit. He drew his automatic. + +"Face to the wall, or I'll send a bullet into you!" + +Cunningham shook his head. + +"Did you examine the clip this morning? When you carry weapons like that +for protection never put it in your pocket without a look-see. Dodge +wouldn't have made your mistake. Shoot! Try it on the floor, or up through +the lights--or at me if you'd like that better. The clip is empty." + +Mechanically Cleigh took aim and bore against the trigger. There was no +explosion. A depressing sense of unreality rolled over the _Wanderer's_ +owner. + +"So you went into town for her luggage? Did you find the beads?" + +Cleigh made a negative sign. It was less an answer to Cunningham than an +acknowledgment that he could not understand why the bullet clip should be +empty. + +"It was an easy risk," explained Cunningham. "You carried the gun, but I +doubt you ever looked it over. Having loaded it once upon a time, you +believed that was sufficient, eh? Know what I think? The girl has hidden +the beads in her hair. Did you search her?" + +Again Cleigh shook his head, as much over the situation as over the +question. + +"What, you ran all this risk and hadn't the nerve to search her? Well, +that's rich! Unless you've read her from my book. She would probably have +scratched out your eyes. There's an Amazon locked up in that graceful +body. I'd like to see her head against a bit of clear blue sky--a touch of +Henner blues and reds. What a whale of a joke! Abduct a young woman, risk +prison, and then afraid to lay hands on her! You poor old piker!" +Cunningham laughed. + +"Cunningham----" + +"All right, I'll be merciful. To make a long story short, it means that +for the present I am in command of this yacht. I warned you. Will you be +sensible, or shall I have to lock you up like your two-gun man from +Texas?" + +"Piracy!" cried Cleigh, coming out of his maze. + +"Maritime law calls it that, but it isn't really. No pannikins of rum, no +fifteen men on a dead man's chest. Parlour stuff, you might call it. The +whole affair--the parlour side of it--depends upon whether you purpose to +act philosophically under stress or kick up a hullabaloo. In the latter +event you may reasonably expect some rough stuff. Truth is, I'm only +borrowing the yacht as far as latitude ten degrees and longitude one +hundred and ten degrees, off Catwick Island. You carry a boson's whistle +at the end of your watch chain. Blow it!" was the challenge. + +"You bid me blow it?" + +"Only to convince you how absolutely helpless you are," said Cunningham, +amiably. "Yesterday this day's madness did prepare, as our old friend Omar +used to say. Vedder did great work on that, didn't he? Toot the whistle, +for shortly we shall weigh anchor." + +Like a man in a dream, Cleigh got out his whistle. The first blast was +feeble and windy. Cunningham grinned. + +"Blow it, man, blow it!" + +Cleigh set the whistle between his lips and blew a blast that must have +been heard half a mile away. + +"That's something like! Now we'll have results!" + +Above, on deck, came the scuffle of hurrying feet, and immediately--as if +they had been prepared against this moment--three fourths of the crew came +tumbling down the companionway. + +"Seize this man!" shouted Cleigh, thunderously, as he indicated +Cunningham. + +The men, however, fell into line and came to attention. Most of them were +grinning. + +"Do you hear me? Brown, Jessup, McCarthy--seize this man!" + +No one stirred. Cleigh then lost his head. With a growl he sprang toward +Cunningham. Half the crew jumped instantly into the gap between, and they +were no longer grinning. Cunningham pushed aside the human wall and faced +the _Wanderer's_ owner. + +"Do you begin to understand?" + +"No! But whatever your game is, it will prove bad business for you in the +end. And you men, too. The world has grown mighty small, and you'll find +it hard to hide--unless you kill me and have done with it!" + +"Tut, tut! Wouldn't harm a hair of your head. The world is small, as you +say, but just at this moment infernally busy mopping up. What, bother +about a little dinkum dinkus like this, with Russia mad, Germany ugly, +France grumbling at England, Italy shaking her fist at Greece, and labour +making a monkey of itself? Nay! I'll shift the puzzle so you can read it. +When the yacht was released from auxiliary duties she was without a crew. +The old crew, that of peace times, was gone utterly, with the exception of +four. You had the yacht keelhauled, gave her another daub of war paint and +set about to find a crew. And I had one especially picked for you! +Ordinarily, you've a tolerably keen eye. Didn't it strike you odd to land +a crew who talked more or less grammatically, who were clean bodily, who +weren't boozers?" + +Cleigh, fully alive now, coldly ran his inspecting glance over the men. He +had never before given their faces any particular attention. Besides, this +was the first time he had seen so many of them at once. During boat drill +they had been divided into four squads. Young faces, lean and hard some of +them, but reckless rather than bad. All of them at this moment appeared to +be enjoying some huge joke. + +"I can only repeat," said Cleigh, "that you are all playing with +dynamite." + +"Perhaps. Most of these boys fought in the war; they played the game; but +when they returned nobody had any use for them. I caught them on the +rebound, when they were a bit desperate. We formed a company--but of that +more anon. Will you be my guest, or will you be my prisoner?" + +The velvet fell away from Cunningham's voice. + +"Have I any choice? I'll accept the condition because I must. But I've +warned you. I suppose I'd better ask at once what the ransom is." + +"Ransom? Not a copper cent! You can make Singapore in two days from the +Catwick." + +"And for helping me into Singapore I'm to agree not to hand such men as +you leave me over to the British authorities?" + +"All wrong! The men who will help you into Singapore or take you to Manila +will be as innocent as newborn babes. Wouldn't believe it, would you, but +I'm one of those efficiency sharks. Nothing left to chance; all cut and +dried; pluperfect. Cleigh, I never break my word. I honestly intended +turning over those beads to you, but Morrissy muddled the play." + +"Next door to murder." + +"Near enough, but he'll pull out." + +"Are you going to take Miss Norman along?" + +"What, set her ashore to sic the British Navy on us? I'm sorry. I don't +want her on board; but that was your play, not mine. You tried to +double-cross me. But you need have no alarm. I will kill the man who +touches her. You understand that, boys?" + +The crew signified that the order was understood, though one of them--the +returned Flint--smiled cynically. If Cunningham noted the smile he made no +verbal comment upon it. + +"Weigh anchor, then! Look alive! The sooner we nose down to the delta the +sooner we'll have the proper sea room." + +The crew scurried off, and almost at once came familiar sounds--the rattle +of the anchor chain on the windlass, the creaking of pulley blocks as the +launch came aboard, the thud of feet hither and yon as portables were +stowed or lashed to the deck-house rail. For several minutes Cleigh and +Cunningham remained speechless and motionless. + +"You get all the angles?" asked Cunningham, finally. + +"Some of them," admitted Cleigh. + +"At any rate, enough to make you accept a bad situation with good grace?" + +"You're a foolhardy man, Cunningham. Do you expect me to lie down when +this play is over? I solemnly swear to you that I'll spend the rest of my +days hunting you down." + +"And I solemnly swear that you shan't catch me. I'm through with the old +game of playing the genie in the bottle for predatory millionaires. +Henceforth I'm on my own. I'm romantic--yes, sir--I'm romantic from heel +to cowlick; and now I'm going to give rein to this stifled longing." + +"You will come to a halter round your neck. I have always paid your price +on the nail, Cunningham." + +"You had to. Hang it, passions are the very devil, aren't they? Sooner or +later one jumps upon your back and rides you like the Old Man of the +Sea." + +Cleigh heard the rumble of steam. + +"Objects of art!" went on Cunningham. "It eats into your vitals to hear +that some rival has picked up a Correggio or an ancient Kirman or a bit of +Persian plaque. You talk of halters. Lord lumme, how obliquely you look at +facts! Take that royal Persian there--the second-best animal rug on +earth--is there no murder behind the woof and warp of it? What? Talk +sense, Cleigh, talk sense! You cable me: Get such and such. I get it. What +the devil do you care how it was got, so long as it eventually becomes +yours? It's a case of the devil biting his own tail--pot calling kettle +black." + +"How much do you want?" + +"No, Cleigh, it's the romantic idea." + +"I will give you fifty thousand for the rug." + +"I'm sorry. No use now of telling you the plot; you wouldn't believe me, +as the song goes. Dinner at seven. Will you dine in the salon with me, or +will you dine in the solemn grandeur of your own cabin, in company with Da +Vinci, Teniers, and that Carlo Dolci the Italian Government has been +hunting high and low for?" + +"I will risk the salon." + +"To keep an eye on me as long as possible. That's fair enough. You heard +what I said to those boys. Well, every mother's son of 'em will toe the +mark. There will be no change at all in the routine. Simply we lay a new +course that will carry us outside and round Formosa, down to the South Sea +and across to the Catwick. I'll give you one clear idea. A million and +immunity would not stir me, Cleigh." + +"What's the game--if it's beyond ransom?" + +Cunningham laughed boyishly. + +"It's big, and you'll laugh, too, when I tell you." + +"On which side of the mouth?" + +"That's up to you." + +"Is it the rug?" + +"Oh, that, of course! I warned you that I'd come for the rug. It took two +years out of my young life to get that for you, and it has always haunted +me. I just told you about passions, didn't I? Once on your back, they ride +you like the devil--down-hill." + +"A crook." + +"There you go again--pot calling kettle black! If you want to moralize, +where's the line between the thief and the receiver? Fie on you! Dare you +hang that Da Vinci, that Dolci, that Holbein in your gallery home? No! +Stolen goods. What a passion! You sail across the seas alone, alone +because you can't satisfy your passion and have knowing companions on +board. When the yacht goes out of commission you store the loot, and +tremble when you hear a fire alarm. All right. Dinner at seven. I'll go +and liberate your son and the lady." + +"Cunningham, I will kill you out of hand the very first chance." + +"Old dear, I'll add a fact for your comfort. There will be guns on board, +but half an hour gone all the ammunition was dumped into the Whangpoo. So +you won't have anything but your boson's whistle. You're a bigger man than +I am physically, and I've a slue-foot, a withered leg; but I've all the +barroom tricks you ever heard of. So don't make any mistakes in that +direction. You are free to come and go as you please; but the moment you +start any rough house, into your cabin you go, and you'll stay there +until we raise the Catwick. You haven't a leg to stand on." + +Cunningham lurched out of the salon and into the passage. He opened the +door to Cabin Two and turned on the light. Dennison blinked stupidly. +Cunningham liberated him and stood back. + +"Dinner at seven." + +"What the devil are you doing on board?" asked Dennison, thickly. + +"Well, here's gratitude for you! But in order that there will be no +misunderstanding, I've turned to piracy for a change. Great sport! I've +chartered the yacht for a short cruise." His banter turned into cold, +precise tones. Cunningham went on: "No nonsense, captain! I put this crew +on board away back in New York. Those beads, though having a merit of +their own, were the lure to bring your father to these parts. Your +presence and Miss Norman's are accidents for which I am genuinely sorry. +But frankly, I dare not turn you loose. That's the milk in the cocoanut. I +grant you the same privileges as I grant your father, which he has +philosophically agreed to accept. Your word of honour to take it sensibly, +and the freedom of the yacht is yours. Otherwise, I'll lock you up in a +place not half so comfortable as this." + +"Piracy!" + +"Yes, sir. These are strangely troubled days. We've slumped morally. +Humanity has been on the big kill, with the result that the tablets of +Moses have been busted up something fierce. And here we are again, all +kotowing to the Golden Calf! All I need is your word--the word of a +Cleigh." + +"I give it." Dennison gave his word so that he might be free to protect +the girl in the adjoining cabin. "But conditionally." + +"Well?" + +"That the young lady shall at all times be treated with the utmost +respect. You will have to kill me otherwise." + +"These Cleighs! All right. That happens to be my own order to the crew. +Any man who breaks it will pay heavily." + +"What's the game?" asked Dennison, rubbing his wrists tenderly while he +balanced unsteadily upon his aching legs. + +"Later! I'll let Miss Norman out. That's so--her things are in the salon. +I'll get them, but I'll unlock her door first." + +"What in heaven's name has happened?" asked Jane as she and Dennison stood +alone in the passage. + +"The Lord knows!" gloomily. "But that scoundrel Cunningham has planted a +crew of his own on board, and we are all prisoners." + +"Cunningham?" + +"The chap with the limp." + +"With the handsome face? But this is piracy!" + +"About the size of it." + +"Oh, I knew something was going to happen! But a pirate! Surely it must be +a joke?" + +So it was--probably the most colossal joke that ever flowered in the mind +of a man. The devil must have shouted and the gods must have held their +sides, for it took either a devil or a god to understand the joke. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +That first dinner would always remain vivid and clear-cut in Jane Norman's +mind. It was fantastic. To begin with, there was that picturesque stone +image at the head of the table--Cleigh--who appeared utterly oblivious of +his surroundings, who ate with apparent relish, and who ignored both men, +his son and his captor. Once or twice Jane caught his glance--a blue eye, +sharp-pupiled, agate-hard. But what was it she saw--a twinkle or a +sparkle? The breadth of his shoulders! He must be very powerful, like the +son. Why, the two of them could have pulverized this pretty fellow +opposite! + +Father and son! For seven years they had not met. Their indifference +seemed so inhuman! Still, she fancied that the son dared not make any +approach, however much he may have longed to. A woman! They had quarrelled +over a woman! Something reached down from the invisible and pinched her +heart. + +All this while Cunningham had been talking--banter. The blade would flash +toward the father or whirl upon the son, or it would come toward her by +the handle. She could not get away from the initial idea--that his eyes +were like fire opals. + +"Miss Norman, you have very beautiful hair." + +"You think so?" + +"It looks like Judith's. You remember, Cleigh, the one that hangs in the +Pitti Galleria in Florence--Allori's?" + +Cleigh reached for a piece of bread, which he broke and buttered. + +Cunningham turned to Jane again. + +"Will you do me the favour of taking out the hairpins and loosing it?" + +"No!" said Dennison. + +"Why not?" said Jane, smiling bravely enough, though there ran over her +spine a chill. + +It wasn't Cunningham's request--it was Dennison's refusal. That syllable, +though spoken moderately, was the essence of battle, murder, and sudden +death. If they should clash it would mean that Denny--how easy it was to +call him that!--Denny would be locked up and she would be all alone. For +the father seemed as aloof and remote as the pole. + +"You shall not do it!" declared Dennison. "Cunningham, if you force her I +will break every bone in your body here and now!" + +Cleigh selected an olive and began munching it. + +"Nonsense!" cried Jane. "It's all awry anyhow." And she began to extract +the hairpins. Presently she shook her head, and the ruddy mass of hair +fell and rippled across and down her shoulders. + +"Well?" she said, looking whimsically into Cunningham's eyes. "It wasn't +there, was it?" + +This tickled Cunningham. + +"You're a woman in a million! You read my thought perfectly. I like ready +wit in a woman. I had to find out. You see, I had promised those beads to +Cleigh, and when I humanly can I keep my promises. Sit down, captain!" For +Dennison had risen to his feet. "Sit down! Don't start anything you can't +finish." To Jane there was in the tone a quality which made her compare it +with the elder Cleigh's eyes--agate-hard. "You are younger and stronger, +and no doubt you could break me. But the moment my hand is withdrawn from +this business--the moment I am off the board--I could not vouch for the +crew. They are more or less decent chaps, or they were before this damned +war stood humanity on its head. We wear the same clothes, use the same +phrases; but we've been thrust back a thousand years. And Miss Norman is a +woman. You understand?" + +Dennison sat down. + +"You'd better kill me somewhere along this voyage." + +"I may have to. Who knows? There's no real demarcation between comedy and +tragedy; it's the angle of vision. It's rough medicine, this; but your +father has agreed to take it sensibly, because he knows me tolerably well. +Still, it will not do him any good to plan bribery. Buy the crew, Cleigh, +if you believe you can. You'll waste your time. I do not pretend to hold +them by loyalty. I hold them by fear. Act sensibly, all of you, and this +will be a happy family. For after all, it's a joke, a whale of a joke. And +some day you'll smile over it--even you, Cleigh." + +Cleigh pressed the steward's button. + +"The jam and the cheese, Togo," he said to the Jap. + +"Yess, sair!" + +A hysterical laugh welled into Jane's throat, but she did not permit it to +escape her lips. She began to build up her hair clumsily, because her +hands trembled. + +Adventure! She thrilled! She had read somewhere that after seven thousand +years of tortuous windings human beings had formed about themselves a thin +shell which they called civilization. And always someone was breaking +through and retracing those seven thousand years. Here was an example in +Cunningham. Only a single step was necessary. It took seven thousand years +to build your shell, and only a minute to destroy it. There was something +fascinating in the thought. A reckless spirit pervaded Jane, a longing to +burst through this shell of hers and ride the thunderbolt. Monotony--that +had been her portion, and only her dreams had kept her from withering. +From the house to the hospital and back home again, days, weeks, years. +She had begun to hate white; her soul thirsted for colour, movement, +thrill. The call that had been walled in, suppressed, broke through. +Piracy on high seas, and Jane Norman in the cast! + +She was not in the least afraid of the whimsical rogue opposite. He was +more like an uninvited dinner guest. Perhaps this lack of fear had its +origin in the oily smoothness by which the yacht had changed hands. Beyond +the subjugation of Dodge, there had not been a ripple of commotion. It was +too early to touch the undercurrents. All this lulled and deceived her. +Piracy? Where were the cutlasses, the fierce moustaches, the red +bandannas, the rattle of dice, and the drunken songs?--the piracy of +tradition? If she had any fear at all it was for the man at her +left--Denny--who might run amuck on her account and spoil everything. All +her life she would hear the father's voice--"The jam and the cheese, +Togo." What men, all three of them! + +Cunningham laid his napkin on the table and stood up. + +"Absolute personal liberty, if you will accept the situation sensibly." + +Dennison glowered at him, but Jane reached out and touched the soldier's +sleeve. + +"Please!" + +"For your sake, then. But it's tough medicine for me to swallow." + +"To be sure it is," agreed the rogue. "Look upon me as a supercargo for +the next ten days. You'll see me only at lunch and dinner. I've a lot of +work to do in the chart house. By the way, the wireless man is mine, +Cleigh, so don't waste any time on him. Hope you're a good sailor, Miss +Norman, for we are heading into rough weather, and we haven't much beam." + +"I love the sea!" + +"Hang it, you and I shan't have any trouble! Good-night." + +Cunningham limped to the door, where he turned and eyed the elder Cleigh, +who was stirring his coffee thoughtfully. Suddenly the rogue burst into a +gale of laughter, and they could hear recurrent bursts as he wended his +way to the companion. + +When this sound died away Cleigh turned his glance levelly upon Jane. The +stone-like mask dissolved into something that was pathetically human. + +"Miss Norman," he said, "I don't know what we are heading into, but if we +ever get clear I will make any reparation you may demand." + +"Any kind of a reparation?"--an eager note in her voice. + +Dennison stared at her, puzzled, but almost instantly he was conscious of +the warmth of shame in his cheeks. This girl wasn't that sort--to ask for +money as a balm for the indignity offered her. What was she after? + +"Any kind of reparation," repeated Cleigh. + +"I'll remember that--if we get through. And somehow I believe we shall." + +"You trust that scoundrel?" asked Cleigh, astonishedly. + +"Inexplicably--yes." + +"Because he happens to be handsome?"--with frank irony. + +"No." But she looked at the son as she spoke. "He said he never broke his +word. No man can be a very great villain who can say that. Did he ever +break his word to you?" + +"Except in this instance." + +"The beads?" + +"I am quite confident he knows where they are." + +"Are they so precious? What makes them precious?" + +"I have told you--they are love beads." + +"That's rank nonsense! I'm no child!" + +"Isn't love rank nonsense?" Cleigh countered. He was something of a +banterer himself. + +"Have you never loved anybody?" she shot back at him. + +A shadow passed over the man's face, clearing the ironic expression. + +"Perhaps I loved not wisely but too well." + +"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean----" + +"You are young; all about you is sunshine; I myself have gone down among +the shadows. Cunningham may keep his word; but there is always the +possibility of his not being able to keep it. He has become an outlaw; he +is in maritime law a pirate. The crew are aware of it; prison stares them +in the face, and that may make them reckless. If you weren't on board I +shouldn't care. But you are young, vital, attractive, of the type that +appeals to strong men. In the dry stores there are many cases of liquor +and wine. The men may break into the stuff before we reach the Catwick. +That will take ten or twelve days if Cunningham lays a course outside +Formosa. What's his game? I don't know. Probably he will maroon us on the +Catwick, an island I know nothing about, except that it is nearer to +Saigon than to Singapore. So then in the daytime stay where I am or where +Captain Dennison is. Good-night." + +Dennison balanced his spoon on the rim of the coffee cup--not a +particularly easy job. + +"Whatever shall I do with the jade?" Jane asked, irrelevantly. + +"What?" + +"The jade necklace. That poor Chinaman!" + +"Ling Foo? I wish I had broken his infernal yellow neck! But for him +neither of us would be here. But he is right," Dennison added, with a jerk +of his head toward the door. "You must always be with one or the other of +us--preferably me." He smiled. + +"Will you promise me one thing?" + +"Denny." + +"Will you promise me one thing, Denny?" + +"And that is not to attempt to mix it with the scoundrel?" + +"Yes." + +"I promise--so long as he keeps his. But if he touches you--well, God help +him!" + +"And me! Oh, I don't mean him. It is you that I am afraid of. You're so +terribly strong--and--and so heady. I can never forget how you went into +that mob of quarrelling troopers. But you were an officer there; your +uniform doesn't count here. If only you and your father stood together!" + +"We do so far as you are concerned. Never doubt that. Otherwise, though, +it's hopeless. What are you going to demand of him--supposing we come +through safely?" + +"That's my secret. Let's go on deck." + +"It's raining hard, and there'll be a good deal of pitching shortly. +Better turn in. You've been through enough to send the average woman into +hysterics." + +"It won't be possible to sleep." + +"I grant that, but I'd rather you would go at once to your cabin." + +"I wonder if you will understand. I'm not really afraid. I know I ought to +be, but I'm not. All my life has been a series of humdrum--and here is +adventure, stupendous adventure!" She rose abruptly, holding out her arms +dramatically toward space. "All my life I have lived in a shell, and +chance has cracked it. If only you knew how wonderfully free I feel at +this moment! I want to go on deck, to feel the wind and the rain in my +face!" + +"Go to bed," he said, prosaically. + +Though never had she appeared so poignantly desirable. He wanted to seize +her in his arms, smother her with kisses, bury his face in her hair. And +swiftly upon this desire came the thought that if she appealed to him so +strongly, might she not appeal quite as strongly to the rogue? He laid the +spoon on the rim of the cup again and teetered it. + +"Go to bed," he repeated. + +"An order?" + +"An order. I'll go along with you to the cabin. Come!" He got up. + +"Can you tell me you're not excited?" + +"I am honestly terrified. I'd give ten years of my life if you were safely +out of this. For seven long years I have been knocking about this world, +and among other things I have learned that plans like Cunningham's never +get through per order. I don't know what the game is, but it's bound to +fail. So I'm going to ask you, in God's name, not to let any romantical +ideas get into your head. This is bad business for all of us." + +There was something in his voice, aside from the genuine seriousness, that +subdued her. + +"I'll go to bed. Shall we have breakfast together?" + +"Better that way." + +To reach the port passage they had to come out into the main salon. Cleigh +was in his corner reading. + +"Good-night," she called. All her bitterness toward him was gone. "And +don't worry about me." + +"Good-night," replied Cleigh over the top of the book. "Be sure of your +door. If you hear any untoward sounds in the night call to the captain +whose cabin adjoins yours." + +When she and Dennison arrived at the door of her cabin she turned +impulsively and gave him both her hands. He held them lightly, because his +emotions were at full tide, and he did not care to have her sense it in +any pressure. Her confidence in him now was absolute, and he must guard +himself constantly. Poor fool! Why hadn't he told her that last night on +the British transport? What had held him back? + +The uncertain future--he had let that rise up between. And now he could +not tell her. If she did not care, if her regard did not go beyond +comradeship, the knowledge would only distress her. + +The yacht was beginning to roll now, for they were making the East China +Sea. The yacht rolled suddenly to starboard, and Jane fell against him. He +caught her, instantly turned her right about and gently but firmly forced +her into the cabin. + +"Good-night. Remember! Rap on the partition if you hear anything you don't +like." + +"I promise." + +After she had locked and latched the door she set about the business of +emptying her kit bags. She hung the evening gown she had worn all day in +the locker, laid her toilet articles on the dresser, and set the brass +hand warmer on the lowboy. Then she let down her hair and began to brush +it. She swung a thick strand of it over her shoulder and ran her hand down +under it. The woman in "Phra the Phoenician," Allori's Judith--and she had +always hated the colour of it! She once more applied the brush, balancing +herself nicely to meet the ever-increasing roll. + +Nevertheless, she did feel free, freer than she had felt in all her life +before. A stupendous adventure! After the braids were completed she flung +them down her back, turned off the light, and peered out of the +rain-blurred port. She could see nothing except an occasional flash of +angry foam as it raced past. She slipped into bed, but her eyes remained +open for a long time. + +Dennison wondered if there would be a slicker in his old locker. He opened +the door. He found an oilskin and a yellow sou'wester on the hooks. He +took them down and put them on and stole out carefully, a hand extended +each side to minimize the roll. He navigated the passage and came out into +the salon. + +Cleigh was still immersed in his book. He looked up quickly, but +recognizing the intruder, dropped his gaze instantly. Dennison crossed the +salon to the companionway and staggered up the steps. Had his father ever +really been afraid of anything? He could not remember ever having seen the +old boy in the grip of fear. What a devil of a world it was! + +Dennison was an able seaman. He had been brought up on the sea--seven +years on the first _Wanderer_ and five on the second. He had, in company +with his father, ridden the seven seas. But he had no trade; he hadn't the +money instinct; he would have to stumble upon fortune; he knew no way of +making it. And this knowledge stirred his rancor anew--the father hadn't +played fair with the son. + +He gripped the deck-house rail to steady himself, for the wind and rain +caught him head-on. + +Then he worked his way slowly along to the bridge. Twice a comber broke on +the quarter and dropped a ton of water, which sloshed about the deck, +drenching his feet. He climbed the ladder, rather amused at the recurrence +of an old thought--that climbing ship ladders in dirty weather was a good +deal like climbing in nightmares: one weighed thousands of pounds and had +feet of lead. + +Presently he peered into the chart room, which was dark except for the +small hooded bulbs over the navigating instruments. He could see the chin +and jaws of the wheelman and the beard of old Captain Newton. From time to +time a wheel spoke came into the light. + +On the chart table lay a pocket lamp, facing sternward, the light pouring +upon what looked to be a map; and over it were bent three faces, one of +which was Cunningham's. A forefinger was tracing this map. + +Dennison opened the door and stepped inside. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +"How are you making out, Newton?" he asked, calmly. + +"Denny? Why, God bless me, boy, I'm glad to see you! How's your dad?" + +"Reading." + +"That would be like him. I don't suppose if hell opened under his feet +he'd do anything except look interested. And it 'pears to me's though hell +had opened up right now!" + +A chuckle came from the chart table. + +"What's your idea of hell, Newton?" asked Cunningham. + +"Anything you might have a hand in," was the return bolt. + +"Why, you used to like me!" + +"Yes, yes! But I didn't know you then. The barometer's dropping. If it was +August I'd say we were nosing into a typhoon. I always hated this yellow +muck they call a sea over here. Did you pick up that light?" + +"Yes, sir," answered the wheelman. "I take it she's making +south--Hong-Kong way. There's plenty of sea room. She'll be well down +before we cross her wake." + +Silence except for the rumble of the weather canvas standing up against +the furious blasts of the wind. Dennison stepped over to the chart table. + +"Cunningham, I would like to have a word with you." + +"Go ahead. You can have as many as you like." + +"At dinner you spoke of your word." + +"So I did. What about it?" + +"Do you keep it?" + +"Whenever I humanly can. Well?" + +"What's this Catwick Island?" + +"Hanged if I know!" + +"Are you going to maroon us there?" + +"No. At that point the yacht will be turned back to your father, and he +can cruise until the crack o' doom without further interference from yours +truly." + +"That's your word?" + +"It is--and I will keep it. Anything else?" + +"Yes. I will play the game as it lies, provided that Miss Norman is in +nowise interfered with or annoyed." + +"How is she taking it?" + +"My reply first." + +"Neither I nor the crew will bother her. She shall come and go free as the +gull in the air. If at any time the men do not observe the utmost +politeness toward her you will do me a favour to report to me. That's my +word, and I promise to keep it, even if I have to kill a man or two. I +wish to come through clean in the hands so far as your father, Miss +Norman, and yourself are concerned. I'm risking my neck and my liberty, +for this is piracy on the high seas. But every man is entitled to one good +joke during his lifetime, and when we raise the Catwick I'll explain this +joke in full. If you don't chuckle, then you haven't so much as a grain of +humour in your make-up." + +"Well, there's nothing for me to do but take your word as you give it." + +"That's the way to talk. Now, Flint, this bay or lagoon----" + +The voice dropped into a low, indistinguishable murmur. Dennison realized +that the moment had come to depart; the edge of the encounter was in +Cunningham's favour and to remain would only serve to sharpen this edge. +So he went outside, slamming the door behind him. + +The word of a rogue! There was now nothing to do but turn in. He believed +he had a glimmer. Somewhere off the Catwick Cunningham and his crew were +to be picked up. He would not be going to the Catwick himself, not +knowing whether it was jungle or bald rock. But if a ship was to pick him +up, why hadn't she made Shanghai and picked him up there? Why commit +piracy--unless he was a colossal liar, which Dennison was ready enough to +believe. The word of a rogue! + +Some private war? Was Cunningham paying off an old grudge? But was any +grudge worth this risk? The old boy wasn't to be scared; Cunningham ought +to have known that. If Cleigh came through with a whole skin he'd hunt the +beggar down if it carried him to the North Pole. Cunningham ought to have +known that, too. A planted crew, piracy--and he, Dennison Cleigh, was +eventually to chuckle over it! He had his doubts. And where did the glass +beads come in? Or had Cunningham spoken the truth--a lure? A big game +somewhere in the offing. And the rogue was right! The world, dizzily +stewing in a caldron of monumental mistakes, would give scant attention to +an off-side play such as this promised to be. Not a handhold anywhere to +the puzzle. The old boy might have the key, but Dennison Cleigh could not +go to him for the solution. + +His own father! Just as he had become used to the idea that the separation +was final, absolute, to be thrown together in this fantastic manner! The +father's arm under his neck and the cup at his lips had shaken him +profoundly. But Cleigh would not have denied a dog drink had the dog +exhibited signs of thirst. So nothing could be drawn from that. + + * * * * * + +Morning. Jane opened her eyes, only to shut them quickly. The white +brilliancy of the cabin hurt. Across the ceiling ran a constant flicker of +silver--reflected sunshine on the water. Southward--they were heading +southward. She jumped out of bed and stepped over to the port. Flashing +yellow water, a blue sky, and far off the oddly ribbed sails of a Chinese +junk labouring heavily in the big sea that was still running. Glorious! + +She dressed hurriedly and warmly, bundling her hair under a velours hat +and ramming a pin through both. + +"Denny?" she called. + +There was no answer. He was on deck, probably. + +An odd scene awaited her in the main salon. Cleigh, senior, stood before +the phonograph listening to Caruso. The roll of the yacht in nowise +disturbed the mechanism of the instrument. There was no sudden sluing of +the needle, due to an amateurish device which Cleigh himself had +constructed. The son, stooping, was searching the titles of a row of new +novels. The width of the salon stretched between the two. + +"Good morning, everybody!" + +There was a joyousness in her voice she made not the least attempt to +conceal. She was joyous, alive, and she did not care who knew it. + +Dennison acknowledged her greeting with a smile, a smile which was a +mixture of wonder and admiration. How in the world was she to be made to +understand that they were riding a deep-sea volcano? + +"Nothing disturbed you through the night?" asked Cleigh, lifting the pin +from the record. + +"Nothing. I lay awake for an hour or two, but after that I slept like a +log. Have I kept you waiting?" + +"No. Breakfast isn't quite ready," answered Cleigh. + +"What makes the sea so yellow?" + +"All the big Chinese rivers are mud-banked and mud-bottomed. They pour +millions of tons of yellow mud into these waters. By this afternoon, +however, I imagine we'll be nosing into the blue. Ah!" + +"Breakfast iss served," announced Togo the Jap. + +The trio entered the dining salon in single file, and once more Jane found +herself seated between the two men. One moment she was carrying on a +conversation with the father, the next moment with the son. The two +ignored each other perfectly. Under ordinary circumstances it would have +been strange enough; but in this hour, when no one knew where or how this +voyage would end! A real tragedy or some absurd trifle? Probably a trifle; +trifles dug more pits than tragedies. Perhaps tragedy was mis-named. What +humans called tragedy was epic, and trifles were real tragedies. And then +there were certain natures to whom the trifle was epical; to whom the +inconsequent was invariably magnified nine diameters; and having made a +mistake, would die rather than admit it. + +To bring these two together, to lure them from behind their ramparts of +stubbornness, to see them eventually shake hands and grin as men will who +recognize that they have been playing the fool! She became fired with the +idea. Only she must not move prematurely; there must arrive some +psychological moment. + +During the meal, toward the end of it, one of the crew entered. He was +young--in the early twenties. The manner in which he saluted convinced +Dennison that the fellow had recently been in the United States Navy. + +"Mr. Cunningham's compliments, sir. Canvas has been rigged on the port +promenade and chairs and rugs set out." + +Another salute and he was off. + +"Well, that's decent enough," was Dennison's comment. "That chap has been +in the Navy. It's all miles over my head, I'll confess. Cunningham spoke +of a joke when I accosted him in the chart house last night." + +"You went up there?" cried Jane. + +"Yes. And among other things he said that every man is entitled to at +least one good joke. What the devil can he mean by that?" + +Had he been looking at his father Dennison would have caught a fleeting, +grim, shadowy smile on the strong mouth. + +"You will find a dozen new novels on the shelves, Miss Norman," said +Cleigh as he rose. "I'll be on deck. I generally walk two or three miles +in the morning. Let us hang together this day to test the scalawag's +promise." + +"Mr. Cleigh, when you spoke of reparation last night, you weren't thinking +in monetary terms, were you?" + +Cleigh's brows lowered a trifle, but it was the effect of puzzlement. + +"Because," she proceeded, gravely, "all the money you possess would not +compensate me for the position you have placed me in." + +"Well, perhaps I did have money in mind. However, I hold to my word. +Anything you may ask." + +"Some day I will ask you for something." + +"And if humanly possible I promise to give it," and with this Cleigh took +leave. + +Jane turned to Dennison. + +"It is so strange and incomprehensible! You two sitting here and ignoring +each other! Surely you don't hate your father?" + +"I have the greatest respect and admiration for him. To you no doubt it +seems fantastic; but we understand each other thoroughly, my father and I. +I'd take his hand instantly, God knows, if he offered it! But if I offered +mine it would be glass against diamond--I'd only get badly scratched. +Suppose we go on deck? The air and the sunshine----" + +"But this catastrophe has brought you together after all these years. +Isn't there something providential in that?" + +"Who can say?" + +On deck they fell in behind Cleigh, and followed him round for fully an +hour; then Jane signified that she was tired, and Dennison put her in the +centre chair and wrapped the rug about her. He selected the chair at her +right. + +Jane shut her eyes, and Dennison opened a novel. It was good reading, and +he became partially absorbed. The sudden creak of a chair brought his +glance round. His father had seated himself in the vacant chair. + +The phase that dug in and hurt was that his father made no endeavour to +avoid him--simply ignored his existence. Seven years and not a crack in +the granite! He laid the book on his knees and stared at the rocking +horizon. + +One of the crew passed. Cleigh hailed him. + +"Send Mr. Cleve to me." + +"Yes, sir." + +The air and the tone of the man were perfectly respectful. + +When Cleve, the first officer, appeared his manner was solicitous. + +"Are you comfortable, sir?" + +"Would ten thousand dollars interest you?" said Cleigh, directly. + +"If you mean to come over to your side, no. My life wouldn't be worth a +snap of the thumb. You know something about Dick Cunningham. I know him +well. The truth is, Mr. Cleigh, we're off on a big gamble, and if we win +out ten thousand wouldn't interest me. Life on board will be exactly as it +was before you put into Shanghai. More I am not at liberty to tell you." + +"How far is the Catwick?" + +"Somewhere round two thousand--eight or nine days, perhaps ten. We're not +piling on--short of coal. It's mighty difficult to get it for a private +yacht. You may not find a bucketful in Singapore. In America you can +always commandeer it, having ships and coal mines of your own. The drop +down to Singapore from the Catwick is about forty hours. You have coal in +Manila. You can cable for it." + +"You are honestly leaving us at that island?" + +"Yes, sir. You can, if you wish, take the run up to Saigon; but your +chance for coal there is nil." + +"Cleve," said Cleigh, solemnly, "you appreciate the risks you are +running?" + +"Mr. Cleigh, there are no risks. It's a dead certainty. Cunningham is one +of your efficiency experts. Everything has been thought of." + +"Except fate," supplemented Cleigh. + +"Fate? Why, she's our chief engineer!" + +Cleve turned away, chuckling; a dozen feet off this chuckle became +boisterous laughter. + +"What can they be after? Sunken treasure?" cried Jane, excitedly. + +"Hangman's hemp--if I live long enough," was the grim declaration, and +Cleigh drew the rug over his knees. + +"But it can't be anything dreadful if they can laugh over it!" + +"Did you ever hear Mephisto laugh in Faust? Cunningham is a queer duck. I +don't suppose there's a corner on the globe he hasn't had a peek at. He +has a vast knowledge of the arts. His real name nobody seems to know. He +can make himself very likable to men and attractive to women. The sort of +women he seeks do not mind his physical deformity. His face and his +intellect draw them, and he is as cruel as a wolf. It never occurred to me +until last night that men like me create his kind. But I don't understand +him in this instance. A play like this, with all the future risks! After I +get the wires moving he won't be able to stir a hundred miles in any +direction." + +"But so long as he doesn't intend to harm us--and I'm convinced he +doesn't--perhaps we'd better play the game as he asks us to." + +"Miss Norman," said Cleigh in a tired voice, "will you do me the favour to +ask Captain Dennison why he has never touched the twenty thousand I +deposited to his account?" + +Astonished, Jane turned to Dennison to repeat the question, but was +forestalled. + +"Tell Mr. Cleigh that to touch a dollar of that money would be a tacit +admission that Mr. Cleigh had the right to strike Captain Dennison across +the mouth." + +Dennison swung out of the chair and strode off toward the bridge, his +shoulders flat and his neck stiff. + +"You struck him?" demanded Jane, impulsively. + +But Cleigh did not answer. His eyes were closed, his head rested against +the back of the chair so Jane did not press the question. It was enough +that she had seen behind a corner of this peculiar veil. And, oddly, she +felt quite as much pity for the father as for the son. A wall of pride, +Alpine high, and neither would force a passage! + +They did not see the arch rogue during the day, but he came in to dinner. +He was gay--in a story-telling mood. There was little or no banter, for he +spoke only to Jane, and gave her flashes of some of his amazing activities +in search of art treasures. He had once been chased up and down Japan by +the Mikado's agents for having in his possession some royal-silk tapestry +which it is forbidden to take out of the country. Another time he had gone +into Tibet for a lama's ghost mask studded with raw emeralds and +turquoise, and had suffered untold miseries in getting down into India. +Again he had entered a Rajput haremlik as a woman, and eventually escaped +with the fabulous rug which hung in the salon. Adventure, adventure, and +death always at his elbow! There was nothing of the braggart in the man; +he recounted his tales after the manner of a boy relating some college +escapades, deprecatingly. + +Often Jane stole a glance at one or the other of the Cleighs. She was +constantly swung between--but never touched--the desire to laugh and the +desire to weep over this tragedy, which seemed so futile. + +"Why don't you write a book about these adventures?" she asked. + +"A book? No time," said Cunningham. "Besides, the moment one of these +trips is over it ends; I can recount it only sketchily." + +"But even sketchily it would be tremendously interesting. It is as if you +were playing a game with death for the mere sport of it." + +"Maybe that hits it, though I've never stopped to analyze. I never think +of death; it is a waste of gray matter. I should be no nearer death in +Tibet than I should be asleep in a cradle. Why bother about the absolute, +the inevitable? Humanity wears itself out building bridges for imaginary +torrents. I am an exception; that is why I shall be young and handsome up +to the moment the grim stalker puts his claw on my shoulder." + +He smiled whimsically. + +"But you, have you never caught some of the passion for possessing rare +paintings, rugs, manuscripts?" + +"You miss the point. What does the sense of possession amount to beside +the sense of seeking and finding? Cleigh here thinks he is having a thrill +when he signs a check. It is to laugh!" + +"Have you ever killed a man?" It was one of those questions that leap +forth irresistibly. Jane was a bit frightened at her temerity. + +Cunningham drank his coffee deliberately. + +"Yes." + +"Oh!" + +Jane shrank back a little. + +"But never willfully," Cunningham added--"always in self-defence, and +never a white man." + +There was a peculiar phase about the man's singular beauty. Animated, it +was youthful; in grim repose, it was sad and old. + +"Death!" said Jane in a kind of awed whisper. "I have watched many die, +and I cannot get over the terror of it. Here is a man with all the +faculties, physical and mental; a human being, loving, hating, working, +sleeping; and in an instant he is nothing!" + +"A Chinaman once said that the thought of death is as futile as water in +the hand. By the way, Cleigh--and you too, captain--give the wireless a +wide berth. There's death there." + +Jane saw the fire opals leap into the dark eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +The third day out they were well below Formosa, which had been turned on a +wide arc. The sea was blue now, quiescent, waveless; there was only the +eternal roll. Still Jane could not help comparing the sea with the +situation--the devil was slumbering. What if he waked? + +Time after time she tried to force her thoughts into the reality of this +remarkable cruise, but it was impossible. Romance was always smothering +her, edging her off, when she approached the sinister. Perhaps if she had +heard ribald songs, seen evidence of drunkenness; if the crew had loitered +about and been lacking in respect, she would have been able to grasp the +actuality; but so far the idea persisted that this could not be anything +more than a pleasure cruise. Piracy? Where was it? + +So she measured her actions accordingly, read, played the phonograph, went +here and there over the yacht, often taking her stand in the bow and +peering down the cutwater to watch the antics of some humorous porpoise or +to follow the smother of spray where the flying fish broke. In fact, she +conducted herself exactly as she would have done on board a passenger +ship. There were moments when she was honestly bored. + +Piracy! This was an established fact. Cunningham and his men had stepped +outside the pale of law in running off with the _Wanderer_. But piracy +without drunken disorder, piracy that wiped its feet on the doormat and +hung its hat on the rack! There was a touch of the true farce in it. +Hadn't Cunningham himself confessed that the whole affair was a joke? + +Round two o'clock on the afternoon of the third day Jane, for the moment +alone in her chair, heard the phonograph--the sextet from Lucia. She left +her chair, looked down through the open transom and discovered Dennison +cranking the machine. He must have seen her shadow, for he glanced up +quickly. + +He crooked a finger which said, "Come on down!" She made a negative sign +and withdrew her head. + +Here she was again on the verge of wild laughter. Donizetti! Pirates! +Glass beads for which Cleigh had voyaged sixteen thousand miles! A father +and son who ignored each other! She choked down this desire to laugh, +because she was afraid it might end suddenly in hysteria and tears. She +returned to her chair, and there was the father arranging himself +comfortably. He had a book. + +"Would you like me to read a while to you?" she offered. + +"Will you? You see," he confessed, "I'm troubled with insomnia. If I read +by myself I only become interested in the book, but if someone reads aloud +it makes me drowsy." + +"As a nurse I've done that hundreds of times. But frankly, I can't read +poetry; I begin to sing-song it at once; it becomes rime without reason. +What is the book?" + +Cleigh extended it to her. The moment her hands touched the volume she saw +that she was holding something immeasurably precious. The form was unlike +the familiar shapes of modern books. The covers consisted of exquisitely +hand-tooled calf bound by thongs; there was a subtle perfume as she opened +them. Illuminated vellum. She uttered a pleasurable little gasp. + +"The Song of Songs, which is Solomon's," she read. + +"Fifteenth century--the vellum. The Florentine covers were probably added +in the seventeenth. I have four more downstairs. They are museum pieces, +as we say." + +"That is to say, priceless?" + +"After a fashion." + +"'Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it; if a +man would give all the substance of his house for love, it would utterly +be contemned!'" + +"Why did you select that?" + +"I didn't select it; I remembered it--because it is true." + +"You have a very pleasant voice. Go on--read." + +Thus for an hour she read to him, and by the time she grew tired Cleigh +was sound asleep. The look of granite was gone from his face, and she saw +that he, too, had been handsome in his youth. Why had he struck Denny on +the mouth? What had the son done so to enrage the father? Some woman! And +where had she met the man? Oh, she was certain that she had encountered +him before! But for the present the gate to recollection refused to swing +outward. Gently she laid the beautiful book on his knees and stole over to +the rail. For a while she watched the flying fish. + +Then came one of those impulses which keep human beings from becoming half +gods--a wrong impulse, surrendered to immediately, unweighed, unanalyzed, +unchallenged. The father asleep, the son amusing himself with the +phonograph, she was now unobserved by her guardians; and so she put into +execution the thought that had been urging and intriguing her since the +strange voyage began--a visit to the chart house. She wanted to ask +Cunningham some questions. He would know something about the Cleighs. + +The port door to the chart house was open, latched back against the side. +She hesitated for a moment outside the high-beamed threshold--hesitated +because Captain Newton was not visible. The wheelman was alone. Obliquely +she saw Cunningham, Cleve, and a third man seated round a table which was +littered. This third man sat facing the port door, and sensing her +presence he looked up. Rather attractive until one noted the thin, hard +lips, the brilliant blue eyes. At the sight of Jane something flitted over +his face, and Jane knew that he was bad. + +"What's the matter, Flint?" asked Cunningham, observing the other's +abstraction. + +"We have a visitor," answered Flint. + +Cunningham spun his chair round and jumped to his feet. + +"Miss Norman? Come in, come in! Anything you need?" he asked with lively +interest. + +"I should like to ask you some questions, Mr. Cunningham." + +"Oh! Well, if I can answer them, I will." + +He looked significantly at his companions, who rose and left the house by +the starboard door. + +"They can't keep away from him, can they?" said Flint, cynically. +"Slue-Foot has the come-hither, sure enough. I had an idea she'd be hiking +this way the first chance she got." + +"You haven't the right dope this trip," replied Cleve. "The contract +reads: Hands off women and booze." + +"Psalm-singing pirates! We'll be having prayers Sunday. But that woman is +my style." + +"Better begin digging up a prayer if you've got that bug in your head. If +you make any fool play in that direction Cunningham will break you. I saw +you last night staring through the transom. Watch your step, Flint. I'm +telling you." + +"But if she should happen to take a fancy to me, who shall say no?" + +"Hate yourself, eh? There was liquor on your breath last night. Did you +bring some aboard?" + +"What's that to you?" + +"It's a whole lot to me, my bucko--to me and to the rest of the boys. +Cleigh will not prosecute us for piracy if we play a decent game until we +raise the Catwick. On old Van Dorn's tub we can drink and sing if we want +to. If Cunningham gets a whiff of your breath, when you've had it, you'll +get yours. Most of the boys have never done anything worse than apple +stealing. It was the adventure. All keyed up for war and no place to go, +and this was a kind of safety valve. Already half of them are beginning to +knock in the knees. Game, understand, but now worried about the future." + +"A peg or two before turning in won't hurt anybody. I'm not touching it in +the daytime." + +"Keep away from him when you do--that's all. We're depending on you and +Cunningham to pull through. If you two get to scrapping the whole business +will go blooey. If we play the game according to contract there's a big +chance of getting back to the States without having the sheriff on the +dock to meet us. But if you mess it up because an unexpected stroke put a +woman on board, you'll end up as shark bait." + +"Maybe I will and maybe I won't," was the truculent rejoinder. + +"Lord!" said Cleve, a vast discouragement in his tone. "You lay a course +as true and fine as a hair, and run afoul a rotting derelict in the +night!" + +Flint laughed. + +"Oh, I shan't make any trouble. I'll say my prayers regular until we make +shore finally. The agreement was to lay off the Cleigh booze. I brought on +board only a couple of quarts, and they'll be gone before we raise the +Catwick. But if I feel like talking to the woman I'll do it." + +"It's your funeral, not mine," was the ominous comment. "You've been on +the beach once too often, Flint, to play a game like this straight. But +Cunningham had to have you, because you know the Malay lingo. Remember, he +isn't afraid of anything that walks on two feet or four." + +"Neither am I--when I want anything. But glass beads!" + +"That was only a lure for Cleigh, who'd go round the world for any curio +he was interested in." + +"That's what I mean. If it were diamonds or pearls or rubies, all well and +good. But a string of glass beads! The old duffer is a nut!" + +"Maybe he is. But if you had ten or twelve millions, what would you do?" + +"Jump for Prome and foot it to the silk bazaar, where there are three or +four of the prettiest Burmese girls you ever laid your eyes on. Then I'd +buy the Galle Face Hotel in Colombo and close it to the public." + +"And in five years--the old beach again!" + +Flint scowled at the oily, heaving rolls, brassy and dazzling. He was +bored. For twelve weeks he had circled the dull round of ship routine, +with never shore leave that was long enough for an ordinary drinking bout. +He was bored stiff. Suddenly his thin lips broke into a smile. Cleve, +noting the smile, divined something of the impellent thought behind that +smile, and he grew uneasy. He recalled his own expression of a few moments +gone--the unreckoned derelict. + + * * * * * + +"Thank you for coming up," said Cunningham. "It makes me feel that you +trust me." + +"I want to," admitted Jane. + +A disturbing phenomenon. Always there was a quickening of her heart-beats +at the beginning of each encounter with this unusual gentleman rover. It +was no longer fear. What was it? Was it the face of him, too strong and +vital for a woman's, too handsome for a man's? Was it his dark, fiery eye +which was always reversing what his glib tongue said? Some hidden +magnetism? Alone, the thought of him was recurrent, no matter how +resolutely she cast it forth. Even now she could not honestly say whether +she was here to ask questions of Cunningham or of herself. Perhaps it was +because he was the unknown, whereas Denny was for the most part as +readable as an open book. The one like the forest stream, sometimes +turbulent but always clear; the other like the sea through which they +plowed, smooth, secret, ominous. + +"Do your guardians know where you are?"--raillery in his voice. + +"No. I came to ask some questions." + +"Curiosity. Sit down. What is it you wish to know?" + +"All this--and what will be the end?" + +"Well, doubtless there will be an end, but I'm not seer enough to foretell +it." + +"Then you have some doubts?" + +"Only those that beset all of us." + +"But somehow--well, you don't seem to belong to this sort of game." + +"Why not?" + +Unexpectedly he had set a wall between. She had no answer, and her +embarrassment was visible on her cheeks. + +"Here and there across the world rough men call me Slue-Foot. Perhaps my +deformity has reacted upon my soul and twisted that. Perhaps if my +countenance had been homely and rugged I would have walked the beaten +paths of respectability. But the two together!" + +"I'm sorry!" + +"A woman such as you are would be. You are a true daughter of the great +mother--Pity. But I have never asked pity of any. I have asked only that a +man shall keep his word to me as I will keep mine to him." + +"But you are risking your liberty, perhaps your life!" + +"I've been risking that for more than twenty years. The habit has become +normal. All my life I've wanted a real adventure." + +She gazed at him in utter astonishment. + +"An adventure? Why, you yourself told me that you had risked your life a +hundred times!" + +"That?"--with a smile and a shrug. "That was business, the day's work. I +mean an adventure in which I am accountable to no man." + +"Only to God?" + +"Well, of course, if you want it that way. For myself, I'm something of a +pagan. I have dreamed of this day. When you were a little girl didn't you +dream of a wonderful doll that could walk and make almost human noises? +Well, I'm realizing my doll. I am going pearl hunting in the South +Seas--the thing I dreamed of when I was a boy." + +"But why commit piracy? Why didn't you hire a steamer?" + +"Oh, I must have my joke, too. But I hadn't counted on you. In every +campaign there is the hollow road of Ohain. Napoleon lost Waterloo because +of it. Your presence here has forced me to use a hand without velvet. +These men expected a little fun--cards and drink; and some of them are +grumbling with discontent. But don't worry. In five days we'll be off on +our own." + +"What is the joke?" + +"That will have to wait. For a few minutes I heard you reading to-day. +Your voice is like a bell at sea in the evening. 'Many waters cannot +quench love,'" he quoted, the flash of opals in his eyes, though his lips +were smiling gently. "The Bible is a wonderful book. Its authors were +poets who were not spoiled by the curse of rime. Does it amuse you to hear +me talk of the Bible?--an unregenerate scalawag? Well, it is like this: I +am something of an authority on illuminated manuscripts. I've had to wade +through hundreds of them. That is the method by which I became acquainted +with the Scriptures. The Song of Songs! Lord love you, if that isn't pure +pagan, what is? I prefer the Proverbs. Ask Cleigh if he has that +manuscript with him. It's in a remarkable state of preservation. Remember? +'There be three things which are too wonderful for me, yea, four which I +know not: The way of an eagle in the air; the way of a serpent upon a +rock; the way of a ship in the midst of the sea; and the way of a man with +a maid.' Ask Cleigh to show you that." + +Cleigh! The name swung her back to the original purpose of this visit. + +"Do you know the Cleighs well?" + +"I know the father. He has the gift of strong men--unforgetting and +unforgiving. I know little or nothing about the son, except that he is a +chip of the old block. Queer twist in events, eh?" + +"Have you any idea what estranged them?" + +"Didn't know they were at outs until the night before we sailed. They +don't speak?" + +"No. And it seems so utterly foolish!" + +"_Cherchez la femme!_" + +"You believe that was it?" + +"It is always so, always and eternally the woman. I don't mean that she is +always to blame; I mean that she is always there--in the background. But +you! I say, now, here's the job for you! Bring them together. That's your +style. For weeks now you three will be together. Within that time you'll +be able to twist both of them round your finger. I wonder if you realize +it? You're not beautiful, but you are something better--splendid. Strong +men will always be gravitating toward you, wanting comfort, peace. You're +not the kind that sets men's hearts on fire, that makes absconders, fills +the divorce courts, and all that. You're like a cool hand on a hot +forehead. And you have a voice as sweet as a bell." + +Instinct--the female fear of the trap--warned Jane to be off, but +curiosity held her to the chair. She was human; and this flattery, free of +any suggestion of love-making, gave her a warming, pleasurable thrill. +Still there was a fly in the amber. Every woman wishes to be credited with +hidden fires, to possess equally the power to damn men as well as to save +them. + +"Has there never been----" + +"A woman? Have I not just said there is always a woman?" He was sardonic +now. "Mine, seeing me walk, laughed." + +"She wasn't worth it!" + +"No, she wasn't. But when we are twenty the heart is blind. So Cleigh and +the boy don't speak?" + +"Cleigh hasn't injured you in any way, has he?" + +"Injured me? Of course not! I am only forced by circumstance--and an +oblique sense of the comic--to make a convenience of him. And by the Lord +Harry, it's up to you to help me out!" + +"I?"--bewildered. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Jane gazed through the doorway at the sea. There was apparently no +horizon, no telling where the sea ended and the faded blue of the sky +began. There was something about this sea she did not like. She was +North-born. It seemed to her that there was really less to fear from the +Atlantic fury than from these oily, ingratiating, rolling mounds. They +were the Uriah Heep of waters. She knew how terrible they could be, far +more terrible than the fiercest nor'easter down the Atlantic. Typhoon! How +could a yacht live through a hurricane? She turned again toward +Cunningham. + +"You are like that," she said, irrelevantly. + +"Like what?" + +"Like the sea." + +Cunningham rose and peered under the half-drawn blind. + +"That may be complimentary, but hanged if I know! Smooth?--is that what +you mean?" + +"Kind of terrible." + +He sat down again. + +"That rather cuts. I might be terrible. I don't know--never met the +occasion; but I do know that I'm not treacherous. You certainly are not +afraid of me." + +"I don't exactly know. It's--it's too peaceful." + +"To last? I see. But it isn't as though I were forcing you to go through +with the real voyage. Only a few days more, and you'll have seen the last +of me." + +"I hope so." + +He chuckled. + +"What I meant was," she corrected, "that nothing might happen, nobody get +hurt. Human beings can plan only so far." + +"That's true enough. Every programme is subject to immediate change. But, +Lord, what a lot of programmes go through per schedule! Still, you are +right. It all depends upon chance. We say a thing is cut and dried, but we +can't prove it. But so far as I can see into the future, nothing is going +to happen, nobody is going to walk the plank. Piracy on a basis of 2.75 +per cent.--the kick gone out of it! But if you can bring about the +reconciliation of the Cleighs the old boy will not be so keen for chasing +me all over the map when this job is done." + +"Will you tell me what those beads are?" + +"To be sure I will--all in due time. What does Cleigh call them?" + +"Love beads!" scornfully. + +"On my solemn word, that's exactly what they are." + +"Very well. But remember, you promise to tell me when the time comes." + +"That and other surprising things." + +"I'll be going." + +"Come up as often as you like." + +Cunningham accompanied her to the bridge ladder and remained until she was +speeding along the deck; then he returned to his chart. But the chart was +no longer able to hold his attention. So he levelled his gaze upon the +swinging horizon and kept it there for a time. Odd fancy, picturing the +girl on the bridge in a hurricane, her hair streaming out behind her, her +fine body leaning on the wind. A shadow in the doorway broke in upon this +musing. Cleigh. + +"Come in and sit down," invited Cunningham. + +But Cleigh ignored the invitation and stepped over to the steersman. + +"Has Miss Norman been in here?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"How long was she here?" + +"I don't know, sir; perhaps half an hour." + +Cleigh stalked to the door, but there he turned, and for the first time +since Cunningham had taken the yacht Cleigh looked directly, with grim +intentness, into his enemy's eyes. + +"Battle, murder, and sudden death!" Cunningham laughed. "You don't have to +tell me, Cleigh! I can see it in your eyes. If Miss Norman wants to come +here and ask questions, I'm the last man to prevent her." + +Cleigh thumped down the ladder. Cunningham was right--there was murder in +his heart. He hurried into the main salon, and there he found Jane and +Dennison conversing. + +"Miss Norman, despite my warning you went up to the chart house." + +"I had some questions to ask." + +"I forbid you emphatically. I am responsible for you." + +"I am no longer your prisoner, Mr. Cleigh; I am Mr. Cunningham's." + +"You went up there alone?" demanded Dennison. + +"Why not? I'm not afraid. He will not break his word to me." + +"Damn him!" roared Dennison. + +"Where are you going?" she cried, seizing him by the sleeve. + +"To have it out with him! I can't stand this any longer!" + +"And what will become of me--if anything happens to you, or anything +happens to him? What about the crew if he isn't on hand to hold them?" + +The muscular tenseness of the arm she held relaxed. But the look he gave +his father was on a par with that which Cleigh had so recently spent upon +Cunningham. Cleigh could not support it, and turned his head aside. + +"All right. But mind you keep in sight! If you will insist upon talking +with the scoundrel, at least permit me to be within call. What do you want +to talk to him for, anyhow?" + +"Neither of you will stoop to ask him questions, so I had to. And I have +learned one thing. He is going pearl hunting." + +"What? Off the Catwick? There's no pearl oyster in that region," Dennison +declared. "Either he is lying or the Catwick is a blind. The only chance +he'd have would be somewhere in the Sulu Archipelago; and this time of +year the pearl fleets will be as thick as flies in molasses. Of course if +he is aware of some deserted atoll, why, there might be something in it." + +"Have you ever hunted pearls?" + +"In a second-hand sort of way. But if pearls are his game, why commit +piracy when he could have chartered a tramp to carry his crew? There's +more than one old bucket hereabouts ready to his hand for coal and +stores. He'll need a shoe spoon to get inside or by the Sulu fleets, since +the oyster has been pretty well neglected these five years, and every +official pearler will be hiking down there. But it requires a certain +amount of capital and a stack of officially stamped paper, and I don't +fancy Cunningham has either." + +Cleigh smiled dryly, but offered no comment. He knew all about +Cunningham's capital. + +"Did he say anything about being picked up by another boat?" asked +Dennison. + +"No," answered Jane. "But I don't believe it will be hard for me to make +him tell me that. I believe that he will keep his word, too." + +"Jane, he has broken the law of the sea. I don't know what the penalty is +these days, but it used to be hanging to the yard-arm. He won't be +particular about his word if by breaking it he can save his skin. He's +been blarneying you. You've let his plausible tongue and handsome face +befog you." + +"That is not true!" she flared. Afterward she wondered what caused the +flash of perversity. "And I resent your inference!" she added with +uplifted chin. + +Dennison whirled her about savagely, stared into her eyes, then walked to +the companion, up which he disappeared. This rudeness astonished her +profoundly. She appealed silently to the father. + +"We are riding a volcano," said Cleigh. "I'm not sure but he's setting +some trap for you. He may need you as a witness for the defense. Of course +I can't control your actions, but it would relieve me immensely if you'd +give him a wide berth." + +"He was not the one who brought me aboard." + +"No. And the more I look at it, the more I am convinced that you came on +board of your own volition. You had two or three good opportunities to +call for assistance." + +"You believe that?" + +"I've as much right to believe that as you have that Cunningham will keep +his word." + +"Oh!" she cried, but it was an outburst of anger. And it had a peculiar +twist, too. She was furious because both father and son were partly +correct; and yet there was no diminution of that trust she was putting in +Cunningham. "Next you'll be hinting that I'm in collusion with him!" + +"No. Only he is an extraordinarily fascinating rogue, and you are wearing +the tinted goggles of romance." + +Fearing that she might utter something regrettable, she flew down the port +passage and entered her cabin, where she remained until dinner. She spent +the intervening hours endeavouring to analyze the cause of her temper, but +the cause was as elusive as quicksilver. Why should she trust Cunningham? +What was the basis of this trust? He had, as Denny said, broken the law of +the sea. Was there a bit of black sheep in her, and was the man calling to +it? And this perversity of hers might create an estrangement between her +and Denny; she must not let that happen. The singular beauty of the man's +face, his amazing career, and his pathetic deformity--was that it? + + * * * * * + +"Where's the captain?" asked Cunningham, curiously, as he noted the vacant +chair at the table that night. + +"On deck, I suppose." + +"Isn't he dining to-night?"--an accent of suspicion creeping into his +voice. "He isn't contemplating making a fool of himself, is he? He'll get +hurt if he approaches the wireless." + +"Togo," broke in Cleigh, "bring the avocats and the pineapple." + +Cunningham turned upon him with a laugh. + +"Cleigh, when I spin this yarn some day I'll carry you through it as the +man who never batted an eye. I can see now how you must have bluffed Wall +Street out of its boots." + +When Cunningham saw that Jane was distrait he made no attempt to pull her +out of it. He ate his dinner, commenting only occasionally. Still, he bade +her a cheery good-night as he returned to the chart house, where he stayed +continually, never quite certain what old Captain Newton might do to the +wheel and the compass if left alone too long. + +Dennison came in immediately after Cunningham's departure and contritely +apologized to Jane for his rudeness. + +"I suppose I'm on the rack; nerves all raw; tearing me to pieces to sit +down and twiddle my thumbs. Will you forgive me?" + +"Of course I will! I understand. You are all anxious about me. +Theoretically, this yacht is a volcano, and you're trying to keep me from +kicking off the lid. But I've an idea that the lid will stay on tightly if +we make believe we are Mr. Cunningham's guests. But it is almost +impossible to suspect that anything is wrong. Whenever a member of the +crew comes in sight he is properly polite, just as he would be on a liner. +If I do go to the bridge again I'll give you warning. Good-night, Mr. +Cleigh, I'll read to you in the morning. Good-night--Denny." + +Cleigh, sighing contentedly, dipped his fingers into the finger bowl and +brushed his lips. + +The son drank a cup of coffee hastily, lit his pipe, and went on deck. He +proceeded directly to the chart house. + +"Cunningham, I'll swallow my pride and ask a favour of you." + +"Ah!"--in a neutral tone. + +"The cook tells me that all the wine and liquor are in the dry-stores +compartment. Will you open it and let me chuck the stuff overboard?" + +"No," said Cunningham, promptly. "When I turn this yacht back to your +father not a single guy rope will be out of order. It would be a fine +piece of work to throw all those rare vintages over the rail simply to +appease an unsubstantial fear on your part! No!" + +"But if the men should break in? And it would be easy, because it is +nearer them than us." + +"Thank your father for building the deck like a city flat. But if the boys +should break in, there's the answer," said Cunningham, laying his +regulation revolver on the chart table. "And every mother's son of them +knows it." + +"You refuse?" + +"Yes." + +"All right. But if anything happens I'll be on top of you, and all the +bullets in that clip won't stop me." + +"Captain, you bore me. Your father and the girl are good sports. You ought +to be one. I've given you the freedom of the yacht for the girl's sake +when caution bids me dump you into the brig. I begin to suspect that your +misfortunes are due to a violent temper. Run along with your thunder; I +don't want you hurt." + +"If I come through this alive----" + +"You'll join your dad peeling off my hide--if you can catch me!" + +It was with the greatest effort that Dennison crushed down the desire to +leap upon his tormentor. He stood tense for a moment, then stepped out +upon the bridge. His fury was suffocating him, and he realized that he was +utterly helpless. + +Ten minutes later the crew in their quarters were astonished to see the +old man's son enter. None of them stirred. + +"I say, any you chaps got an extra suit of twill? This uniform is getting +too thick for this latitude. I'm fair melting down to the bone." + +"Sure!" bellowed a young giant, swinging out of his bunk. He rummaged +round for a space and brought forth a light-weight khaki shirt and a pair +of ducks. "Guess these'll fit you, sir." + +"Thanks. Navy stores?" + +"Yes, sir. You're welcome." + +Dennison's glance travelled from face to face, and he had to admit that +there was none of the criminal type here. They might carry through +decently. Nevertheless, hereafter he would sleep on the lounge in the +main salon. If any tried to force the dry-stores door he would be likely +to hear it. + +At eleven o'clock the following morning there occurred an episode which +considerably dampened Jane's romantical point of view regarding this +remarkable voyage. Cleigh had gone below for some illuminated manuscripts +and Dennison was out of sight for the moment. She leaned over the rail and +watched the flying fish. Suddenly out of nowhere came the odour of +whisky. + +"You ought to take a trip up to the cutwater at night and see the flying +fish in the phosphorescence." + +She did not stir. Instinctively she knew who the owner of this voice would +be--the man Cunningham called Flint. A minute--an unbearable +minute--passed. + +"Oh! Too haughty to be a good fellow, huh?" + +Footsteps, a rush of wind, a scuffling, and an oath brought her head +about. She saw Flint go balancing and stumbling backward, finally to sprawl +on his hands and knees, and following him, in an unmistakable attitude, +was Dennison. Jane was beginning to understand these Cleighs; their rage +was terrible because it was always cold. + +"Denny!" she called. + +But Dennison continued on toward Flint. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Flint was a powerful man, or had been. The surprise of the attack over, he +jumped to his feet, and blazing with murderous fury rushed Dennison. Jane +saw a tangle of arms, and out of this tangle came a picture that would +always remain vivid--Flint practically dangling at the end of Dennison's +right arm. The rogue tore and heaved and kicked and struck, but futilely, +because his reach was shorter. Dennison let go unexpectedly. + +"Listen to me, you filthy beachcomber! If you ever dare speak to Miss +Norman again or come within ten feet of her I'll kill you with bare hands! +There are no guns on board this yacht--bare hands. Now go back to your +master and say that I'd like to do the same to him." + +Flint, his hands touching his throat with inquiring solicitude--Flint eyed +Dennison with that mixture of pain and astonishment that marks the face of +a man who has been grossly deceived. Slowly he revolved on his shaking +legs and staggered forward, shortly to disappear round the deck house. + +"Oh, Denny, you've done a foolish thing! You've shamed that man before me +and put murder in his heart. It isn't as if we were running the yacht. We +are prisoners of that man and his fellows. It would have been enough for +you to have stepped in between." + +"I haven't any parlour varnish left, Jane. His shoulder was almost +touching yours. It was an intentional insult, and that was enough for me. +The dog! Still looking at the business romantically?" + +His tone was bitter. Her reproach, no doubt justified, cut deeply. + +"No, I'm beginning to become a little afraid--afraid that the men may get +out of hand. I don't care what you and your father think, but I believe +Cunningham honestly wishes us to reach the Catwick without any conflict." + +"Ah, Cunningham!" + +"There you go again--angry and bitter! Why can't you take it sensibly, +like your father?" + +"My father doesn't happen to be----" + +He stopped with mystifying abruptness. + +"Doesn't happen to be what?" + +"The sort of fool I am!" + +"You're not so good a comrade as you were." + +"Can't you understand? I've been stood upon my head. The worry about you +on one side and the contact with my father on the other would be +sufficient. But Cunningham and this pirate crew as a tail to the kite! +But, thank God, I had the wit to come in search of you!" + +"I thank God every minute, Denny! You are very strong," she added, shyly. + +"Glad of that, too. But I repeat, I've lost the parlour varnish and the +art of parlour talk. For seven years I've been wandering in strange +places, most of them hard; so I say what I think and act on the spur. That +dog had liquor on his breath. Is Cunningham secretly letting them into the +dry-stores?" + +"The man may have brought it aboard at Shanghai. What a horrible thing a +great war is! In a week it knocks aside all the bars of restraint it took +years to erect. Could a venture like this have happened in 1913? I doubt +it. There comes your father. But who is the man with him? He's been +hurt." + +"Father's watchdog. They had to beat him up to get his gun away from him. +That was the racket we heard. Evidently Father expects you to read to him, +so I'll take a constitutional." + +"Why, where's your uniform?" she cried. + +"Laid it aside. From now on it will be stuffy. Those military boots were +killing me. I borrowed the rig from one of the pirates, but I'll have to +go barefoot." + +"Will you come to your chair soon? I shall worry otherwise. You might run +into that man again." + +"I shan't go below," he promised, starting off. + +Twenty thousand at compound interest for seven years, he thought, as he +made the first turn. A tidy sum to start life with. Could he swallow his +pride? And yet what hope was there of making a real living? He had never +specialized in anything, and the world was calling for specialists and +discarding the others. Another point to consider: Foot-loose for seven +years, could he stand the shackles of office work, routine, the sameness +day in and day out? He was returning to the States without the least idea +what he wanted to do; that was the disturbing phase of it. If only he were +keen for something! A typical son of the rich man. The only point in his +favour was that he had not spent his allowances up and down Broadway. No, +he would never touch a dollar of that money. That was final. + +What lay back of this sudden desire to make good in the world? Love! There +wasn't the slightest use in lying to himself. He wanted Jane Norman with +all the blood in his body, with all the marrow in his bones; and he had +nothing to offer her but empty hands. + +He shot a glance toward the bridge. And because he had no right to +speak--obligated to silence by two reasons--that easy-speaking scoundrel +might trap her fancy. It could not be denied that he was handsome, but he +was nevertheless a rogue. The two reasons why he must not speak were +potent. In the first place, he had nothing to offer; in the second place, +the terror she was no doubt hiding bravely would serve only to confuse +her--that is, she might confuse a natural desire for protection with +something deeper and tenderer, and then discover her mistake when it was +too late. + +What was she going to ask of his father when the time came for reparation? +That puzzled him. + +He made the rounds steadily for an hour, and during this time Jane +frequently looked over the top of the manuscript she was reading aloud. At +length she laid the manuscript upon her knees. + +"Mr. Cleigh, what is it that makes art treasures so priceless?" + +"Generally the depth of the buyer's purse. That is what they say of me in +the great auction rooms." + +"But you don't buy them just because you are rich enough to outbid +somebody else?" + +"No, I am actually fond of all the treasures I possess. Aside from this, +it is the most fascinating game there is. The original! A painting that +Holbein laid his own brushes on, mixed his own paint for! I have then +something of the man, tangible, visible; something of his beautiful +dreams, his poverty, his success. There before me is the authentic labour +of his hand, which was guided by the genius of his brain--before machinery +spoiled mankind. Oh, yes, machinery has made me rich! It has given the +proletariat the privilege of wearing yellow diamonds and riding about in +flivvers. That must be admitted. But to have lived in those days when +ambition thought only in beauty! To have been the boon companions of men +like Da Vinci, Cellini, Michelangelo! Then there are the adventures of +this concrete dream of the artist. I can trace it back to the bare studio +in which it was conceived, follow its journeys, its abiding places, down +to the hour it comes to me." + +Jane stared at him astonishedly. All that had been crampedly hidden in his +soul flowed into his face, warming and mellowing it, even beautifying it. +Cleigh went on: + +"Where will it go when I have done my little span? What new adventures lie +in store for it? Across the Ponte Vecchio in Florence runs a gallery of +portraits: at the south end of this gallery there is or was a corner given +over to a copyist. He strikes you dumb with the cleverness of his work, +but he has only an eye and a hand--he hasn't a soul. A copy is to the +original what a dummy is to a live man, no matter how amazingly well done +the copy is. The original, the dream; nothing else satisfies the true +collector." + +"I didn't know," said Jane, "that you had so much romance in you." + +"Romance?" It was almost a bark. + +"Why, certainly. No human being could love beauty the way you do and not +be romantic." + +"Romantic!" Cleigh leaned back in his chair. "That's a new point of view +for Tungsten Cleigh. That's what my enemies call me--the hardest metal on +earth. Romantic!" He chuckled. "To hear a woman call me romantic!" + +"It does not follow that to be romantic one must be sentimental. Romance +is something heroic, imaginative, big; it isn't a young man and a girl +spooning on a park bench. I myself am romantic, but nobody could possibly +call me sentimental." + +"No?" + +"Why, if I knew that we'd come through this without anybody getting hurt +I'd be gloriously happy. All my life I've been cooped up. For a little +while to be free! But I don't like that." + +She indicated Dodge, who sat in Dennison's chair, his head bandaged, his +arm in a sling, thousands of miles from his native plains, at odds with +his environment. His lean brown jaws were set and the pupils of his blue +eyes were mere pin points. During the discussion of art, during the +reading, he had not stirred. + +"You mean," said Cleigh, gravely, "that Dodge may be only the beginning?" + +"Yes. Your--Captain Dennison had an encounter with the man Flint before +you came up. He is very strong and--and a bit intolerant." + +"Ah!" Cleigh rubbed his jaw and smiled ruminatively. "He was always rather +handy with his fists. Did he kill the ruffian?" + +"No, held him at arm's length and threatened to kill him. I'm afraid Flint +will not accept the situation with good grace." + +"Flint? I never liked that rogue's face." + +"He has found liquor somewhere, and I saw murder in his eyes. Denny isn't +afraid, and that's why I am--afraid he'll run amuck uselessly. His very +strength will react against him." + +"I was like that thirty years ago." So she called him Denny? Cleigh laid +his hand over hers. "Keep your chin up. There's a revolver handy should we +need it. I dare not carry it for fear Cunningham might discover and +confiscate it. Six bullets." + +"And if worse comes to worse, will--will you save one for me? Please don't +let Denny do it! You are old, and if you lived after it wouldn't be in +your thoughts so long as it would be in his--if he killed me. Will you +promise?" + +"Yes--if worse comes to worse. Will you forgive me?" + +"I do. But still I'm going to hold you to your word." + +"I'll pay the score, whatever it is. Now suppose you come below with me +and take a look at the paintings? You haven't seen my cabin yet." + +What was this unusual young woman going to ask of him? He wondered. The +more he thought over it the more convinced he was that she had assisted in +the abduction. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +After they had gone below Dennison dropped into Jane's chair. Immediately +Dodge began to talk: "So you nearly throttled that ornery coyote, huh? +Whata you know about this round-up? The three o' 'em came in, and I never +smelt nothin' until they were on top o' me. How should I smell anythin'? +Hobnobbing together for days, how was I to know they were a bunch of +pirates? Is your old man sore?" + +"Naturally." + +"I mean appertainin' to me?" + +"I don't see how he could be. Who took care of you--bound you up?" + +"That nice-lookin' greaser with the slue foot. Soft speakin' like a woman +and an eye like a timber wolf. Some _hombre_! Where we bound for?" + +"God knows!"--dejectedly. + +"Bad as that, huh? Your girl?" + +"No." + +"No place for a girl. If they hadn't busted my arm I wouldn't care so +much! If it comes to a show-down I won't be no good to anybody. Gimme my +guns and we'd be headin' home in five minutes. These _hombres_ know +somethin' o' my gun play. Gee, it's lonesome here!" Dodge mused for a +moment. "Say, what's your old man's idea hog-tyin' you that-a-way?" + +"He'll tell you perhaps." + +"Uh-huh. Say, what did the Lord make all that stuff for?" with a gesture +toward the brazen sea. "What's it good for, anyhow?" + +"But for the sea we wouldn't have any oysters or codfish," said Dennison, +soberly. + +Dodge chuckled. + +"Oysters and codfish! Say, you're all right! Never knew the old man had a +son until you blew in. Back in New York nobody ever said nothin' about +you. Where you been?" + +"Lots of places." + +"Any ridin'?" + +"Some." + +"Can you shoot?" + +"A little." + +"Kill any o' them Bolsheviks?" + +"That would be guesswork. Did you ever kill a man?" + +"Nope. Didn't have to. I'm pretty good on the draw, and where I come from +they knew it and didn't bother me." + +"I see." + +"Shootin' these days is all in the movies. I was ridin' for a film company +when your old man lassoed me for this job. Never know when you're well +off--huh? I thought there wouldn't be nothin' to do but grub pile three +times a day and the old man's cheroots in between. And here I be now, +ridin' along with a bunch of pirates! Whata you know about that? And some +of them nice boys, too. If they were riff-raff, barroom bums, I could get +a line on it. But I'll have to pass the buck." + +"You haven't got an extra gun anywhere, have you?" + +"We'd be headin' east if I had"--grimly. "I'd have pared down the odds +this mornin'. That _hombre_ with the hop-a-long didn't leave me a quill +toothpick. Was you thinkin' of startin' somethin'?"--hopefully. + +"No, but I'd feel more comfortable if Miss Norman could carry a gun." + +"Uh-huh. Say, she's all right. No hysterics. Ain't many of 'em that +wouldn't 'a' been snivellin' all day and night in her bunk. Been listenin' +to her readin'. Gee, you'd think we were floatin' round this codfish lake +just for the fun of it! She won't run to cover if a bust-up comes. None +whatever! And I bet she can cook, too. Them kind can always cook." + +Conversation lapsed. + +Below, Jane was passing through an unusual experience. + +Said Cleigh at the start: "I'm going to show you the paintings--there are +fourteen in all. I will tell you the history of each. And above all, +please bear in mind the price of each picture." + +"I'll remember." + +But she thought the request an odd one, coming from the man as she knew +him. + +Most of the treasures were in his own spacious cabin. There was a +Napoleonic corner--a Meissonier on one side and a Detaille on the other. +In a stationary cabinet there were a pair of stirrups, a riding crop, a +book on artillery tactics, a pair of slippers beaded with seed pearls, and +a buckle studded with sapphires. + +"What are those?" she asked, attracted. + +"They belonged to the Emperor and his first Empress." + +"Napoleon?" + +"The Corsican. Next to the masters, I've a passion for things genuinely +Napoleonic. The hussar is by Meissonier and the skirmish by Detaille." + +"How much is this corner worth?" + +"I can't say, except that I would not part with those objects for a +hundred thousand; and there are friends of mine who would pay half that +sum for them--behind my back. This is a Da Vinci." + +Half an hour passed. Jane honestly tried to be thrilled by the splendour +of the names she heard, but her eye was always travelling back toward the +slippers and the buckle. The Empress Josephine! Romance and gallantry in +the old, old days! + +"The painting in your cabin is by Holbein. It cost me sixteen thousand. +Now let us go out and look at the rug. That is the apple of my eye. It is +the second finest example of the animal rug in the world. A sheet of pure +gold, half an inch thick, covering the rug from end to end, would not +equal its worth." + +Jane admired the rug, but she would have preferred the gold. Her sense of +the beautiful was alive, but there was always in her mind the genteel +poverty of the past. She was beginning to understand. To go in quest of +the beautiful required an unlimited purse and an endless leisure; and she +would have never the one nor the other. + +"How much gold would that be?" she inquired, naively. + +"Nearly eighty thousand. Have you kept in mind the sums I have given +you?" + +"Yes. Let me see--good heavens, a quarter of a million! But why do you +carry them about like this?" + +"Because I'm something of a rogue myself. I could not enjoy the rug and +the paintings except on board. The French, the Italian, and the Spanish +governments could confiscate every solitary painting except the Meissonier +and the Detaille, for the simple reason that they were stolen. Oh, I did +not steal them myself; I merely purchased them with one eye shut. If I +hadn't bought them they would have gone to some other collector. Do you +get a glimmer of the truth now?" + +"The truth?"--perplexedly. + +"Yes--where Cunningham will get his pearls?"--bitterly. + +"Oh!" + +"And I could not touch him. A quarter of a million! And with his knowledge +of the secret marts he could easily dispose of them. Worth a bold stroke, +eh?" + +"But how will he get them off the yacht--transship them?" + +Her faith in Cunningham began to waver. A quarter of a million! The +thought was as bells in her ears. + +"Of the outside issues I have no inkling. But I have shown you his +pearls." + +"But the crew! Certainly they will not return to any port with us. And why +should he lie to me? There is no reason in the world why he shouldn't +have told me, if he had committed piracy to obtain your paintings. And he +was poring over maps." + +"Some tramp is probably going to pick him up. He's ordered us away from +the wireless. Cunningham must have his joke, so he is beguiling you with +twaddle about hunting pearls. He is robbing me of my treasures, and I +can't strike back on that count. But I can land him in prison on the count +of piracy; and by the Lord Harry, I'll do it if it takes my last dollar! +He'll rue this adventure, or they call me Tungsten for nothing!" + +"I wanted so to believe in him!" + +"Not difficult to understand why. He has a silver tongue and a face like +John the Baptist--del Sarto's--and you are romantic. The picture of him +has enlisted your sympathies. You are filled with pity that he should be +so richly endowed, facially and mentally, and to be a cripple such as +children laugh over." + +"Have you never considered what mental anguish must be the portion of a +man whose body is twisted as his is? I know. So I pity him profoundly, +even if he is a rogue. That's all I was born for--to pity and to bind up. +And I pity you, Mr. Cleigh, you who have walled your heart in granite." + +"You're plain-spoken, young lady." + +"Yes, certain sick minds need plain speaking." + +"Then my mind is sick?" + +"Yes." + +"And only a little while gone it was romantic!" + +"Two hundred million hands begging for bread, and you crossing the world +for a string of glass beads whose value is only sentimental!" + +"I can't let that pass, Miss Norman. I have trusted lieutenants who attend +to my charities. I'm not a miser." + +"You are, with the greatest thing in the world--human love." + +"Shall a man give it where it is not wanted? But enough of this talk. I +have shown you Cunningham's pearls." + +"Perhaps." + + * * * * * + +Night and wheeling stars. It was stuffy in the crew's quarters. Half +naked, the men lolled about, some in their bunks, some on the floor. The +orders were that none should sleep on deck during the voyage to the +Catwick. + +"All because the old man brings a skirt on board, we have to sweat blood +in the forepeak!" growled Flint. "We've got a right to a little sport." + +"Sure we have!" + +The speaker was sitting on the edge of his bunk. He was a fine specimen +of young manhood, with a pleasant, rollicking Irish countenance. He looked +as if he had been brought up clean and had carried his cleanliness into +the world. The blue anchor and love birds on his formidable forearms +proclaimed him a deep-sea man. It was he who had given Dennison the shirt +and the ducks. + +"Sure, we have a right to a little sport! But why call in the undertaker +to help us out? You poor fish, all the way from San Francisco you've been +grousing because shore leaves weren't long enough for you to get prime +soused in. What's two months in our young lives?" + +"I've always been free to do as I liked." + +"You look it! I'll say so! The chief laid down the rules of this game, and +we all took oath to follow those rules. The trouble with you is, you've +been reading dime novels. Where do you think you are--raiding the Spanish +Main? There's every chance of our coming out top hole, as those +lime-juicers say, with oodles of dough and a whole skin." + +"Say, don't I know this Sulu game? I tell you, if he does find his atoll +there won't be any shell. Not a chance in a hundred! Somebody's been +giving him a song and dance. As I get the dope, some pearl-hunting friend +of his croaks and leaves him this chart. Old stuff! I bet a million boobs +have croaked trying to locate the red cross on a chart." + +"Why the devil did you sign on, then?" + +"I wanted a little fun, and I'm going to have it. There's champagne and +Napoleon brandy in the dry-stores. Wouldn't hurt us to have a little of +it. If we've got to go to jail we might as well go lit up." + +"Flint, you talk too much," said a voice from the doorway. It was +Cunningham's. He leaned carelessly against the jamb. The crew fell silent +and motionless. "Boys, you've heard Hennessy. Play it my way and you'll +wear diamonds; mess it up and you'll all wear hemp. The world will forgive +us when it finds out we've only made it laugh." Cunningham strolled over +to Flint, who rose to his feet. "Flint, I want that crimp-house whisky +you've been swigging on the sly. No back talk! Hand it over!" + +"And if I don't?" said Flint, his jaw jutting. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Cunningham did not answer immediately. From Flint his glance went roving +from man to man, as if trying to read what they expected of him. + +"Flint, you were recommended to me for your knowledge of the Sulu lingo. +We'll need a crew of divers, and we'll have to pick them up secretly. +That's your job. It's your only job outside doing your watch with the +shovel below. Somehow you've got the wrong idea. You think this is a +junket of the oil-lamp period. All wrong! You don't know me, and that's a +pity; because if you did know something about me you'd walk carefully. +When we're off this yacht, I don't say. If you want what old-timers used +to call their pannikin of rum, you'll be welcome to it. But on board the +_Wanderer_, nothing doing. Get your duffel out. I'll have a look at it." + +"Get it yourself," said Flint. + +Cunningham appeared small and boyish beside the ex-beachcomber. + +"I'm speaking to you decently, Flint, when I ought to bash in your head." + +The tone was gentle and level. + +"Why don't you try it?" + +The expectant men thereupon witnessed a feat that was not only deadly in +its precision but oddly grotesque. Cunningham's right hand flew out with +the sinister quickness of a cobra's strike, and he had Flint's brawny +wrist in grip. He danced about, twisted and lurched until he came to an +abrupt stop behind Flint's back. Flint's mouth began to bend at the +corners--a grimace. + +"You'll break it yourself, Flint, if you move another inch," said +Cunningham, nonchalantly. "This is the gentlest trick I have in the bag. +Cut out the booze until we're off this yacht. Be a good sport and play the +game according to contract. I don't like these side shows. But you wanted +me to show you. Want to call it off?" + +Sweat began to bead Flint's forehead. He was straining every muscle in his +body to minimize that inexorable turning of his elbow and shoulder. + +"The stuff is in Number Two bunker," he said, with a ghastly grin. "I'll +chuck it over." + +"There, now!" Cunningham stepped back. "I might have made it your neck. +But I'm patient, because I want this part of the game to go through +according to schedule. When I turn back this yacht I want nothing missing +but the meals I've had." + +Flint rubbed his arm, scowling, and walked over to his bunk. + +"Boys," said Cunningham, "so far you've been bricks. Shortly we'll be +heading southeast on our own. Wherever I am known, men will tell you that +I never break my word. I promised you that we'd come through with clean +heels. Something has happened which we could not forestall. There is a +woman on board. It is not necessary to say that she is under my +protection." + +He clumped out into the passage. + +"Well, say!" burst out the young sailor named Hennessy. "I'm a tough guy, +but I couldn't have turned that trick. Hey, you! If you've got any hooch +in the coal bunkers, heave it over. I'm telling you! These soft-spoken +guys are the kind I lay off, believe you me! I've seen all kinds, and I +know." + +"Did they kick you out of the Navy?" snarled Flint. + +"Say, are you asking me to do it?" flared the Irishman. "You poor boob, +you'd be in the sick bay if there hadn't been a lady on board." + +"A lady?" + +"I said a lady! Stand up, you scut!" + +But Flint rolled into his bunk and turned his face to the partition. + +Cunningham leaned against the port rail. These bursts of fury always left +him depressed. He was not a fighting man at all and fate was always +flinging him into physical contests. He might have killed the fool: he had +been in a killing mood. He was tired. Somehow the punch was gone from the +affair, the thrill. Why should that be? + +For years he had been planning something like this, and then to have it +taste like stale wine! Vaguely he knew that he had made a discovery. The +girl! If he were poring over his chart, his glance would drift away; if he +were reading, the printed page had a peculiar way of vanishing. Of course +it was all nonsense. But that night in Shanghai something had drawn him +irresistibly to young Cleigh's table. It might have been the colour of her +hair. At any rate, he hadn't noticed the beads until he had spoken to +young Cleigh. + +Glass beads! Queer twist. A little trinket, worthless except for +sentimental reasons, throwing these lives together. Of course an oil would +have lured the elder Cleigh across the Pacific quite as successfully. The +old chap had been particularly keen for a sea voyage after having been +cooped up for four years. But in the event of baiting the trap with a +painting neither the girl nor the son would have been on board. And Flint +could have had his noggin without anybody disturbing him, even if the +contract read otherwise. + +Law-abiding pirates! How the world would chuckle if the yarn ever reached +the newspapers! He had Cleigh in the hollow of his hand. In fancy he saw +Cleigh placing his grievance with the British Admiralty. He could imagine +the conversation, too. + +"They returned the yacht in perfect condition?" + +"Yes." + +"Did they steal anything?" + +Cunningham could positively see Cleigh's jowls redden as he shook his head +to the query. + +"Sorry. You can't expect us to waste coal hunting for a scoundrel who only +borrowed your yacht." + +But what was the row between Cleigh and his son? That was a puzzler. Not a +word! They ignored each other absolutely. These dinners were queer games, +to be sure. All three men spoke to the girl, but neither of the Cleighs +spoke to him or to each other. A string of glass beads! + +What about himself? What had caused his exuberance to die away, his +enthusiasm to grow dim? Why, a month gone he would burst into such gales +of laughter that his eyes would fill with tears at the thought of this +hour! And the wine tasted flat. The greatest sea joke of the age, and he +couldn't boil up over it any more! + +Love? He had burnt himself out long ago. But had it been love? Rather had +it not been a series of false dawns? To a weepy-waily woman he would have +offered the same courtesies, but she would not have drawn his thoughts in +any manner. And this one kept entering his thoughts at all times. That +would be a joke, wouldn't it? At this day to feel the scorch of genuine +passion! + +To dig a pit for Cleigh and to stumble into another himself! In setting +this petard he hadn't got out of range quickly enough. His sense of humour +was so keen that he laughed aloud, with a gesture which invited the gods +to join him. + +Jane, who had been watching the solitary figure from the corner of the +deck house and wondering who it was, recognized the voice. The cabin had +been stuffy, her own mental confusion had driven sleep away, so she had +stolen on deck for the purpose of viewing the splendours of the Oriental +night. The stars that seemed so near, so soft; the sea that tossed their +reflections hither and yon, or spun a star magically into a silver thread +and immediately rolled it up again; the brilliant electric blue of the +phosphorescence and the flash of flying fish or a porpoise that ought to +have been home and in bed. + +She hesitated. She was puzzled. She was not afraid of him--the puzzle lay +somewhere else. She was a little afraid of herself. She was afraid of +anything that could not immediately be translated into ordinary terms of +expression. The man frankly wakened her pity. He seemed as lonely as the +sea itself. Slue-Foot! And somewhere a woman had laughed at him. Perhaps +that had changed everything, made him what he was. + +She wondered if she would ever be able to return to the shell out of which +the ironic humour of chance had thrust her. Wondered if she could pick up +again philosophically the threads of dull routine. Jane Norman, gliding +over this mysterious southern sea, a lone woman among strong and reckless +men! Piracy! Pearls! Rugs and paintings worth a quarter of a million! +Romance! + +Did she want it to last? Did she want romance all the rest of her days? +What was this thing within her that was striving for expression? For what +was she hunting? What worried her and put fear into her heart was the +knowledge that she did not know what she wanted. From all directions came +questions she could not answer. + +Was she in love? If so, where was the fire that should attend? Was it +Denny--or yonder riddle? She felt contented with Denny, but Cunningham's +presence seemed to tear into unexplored corners of her heart and brain. +If she were in love with Denny, why didn't she thrill when he approached? +There was only a sense of security, contentment. + +The idea of racing round the world romantically with Denny struck her as +absurd. Equally contrary to reason was the picture of herself and +Cunningham sitting before a wood fire. What was the matter with Jane +Norman? + +There was one bar of light piercing the fog. She knew now why she had +permitted Cleigh to abduct her. To bring about a reconciliation between +father and son. And apparently there was as much chance as of east meeting +west. She walked over to the rail and joined Cunningham. + +"You?" he said. + +"The cabin was stuffy. I couldn't sleep." + +"I wonder." + +"About what?" + +"If there isn't a wild streak in you that corresponds with mine. You fall +into the picture naturally--curious and unafraid." + +"Why should I be afraid, and why shouldn't I be curious?" + +"The greatest honour a woman ever paid me. I mean that you shouldn't be +afraid of me when everything should warn you to give me plenty of sea +room." + +"I know more about men than I do about women." + +"And I know too much about both." + +"There have been other women--besides the one who laughed?" + +"Yes. Perhaps I was cruel enough to make them pay for that. + + "'Funny an' yellow an' faithful-- + Doll in a teacup she were, + But we lived on the square, like a true-married pair, + An' I learned about women from 'er!' + +"But I wonder what would have happened if it had been a woman like you +instead of the one who laughed." + +"I shouldn't have laughed." + +"This damned face of mine!" + +"You mustn't say that! Why not try to make over your soul to match it?" + +"How is that done?" + +The irony was so gentle that she fell silent for a space. + +"Are you going to take Mr. Cleigh's paintings when you leave us?" + +"My dear young lady, all I have left to be proud of is my word. I give it +to you that I am going after pearls. It may sound crazy, but I can't help +that. I am realizing a dream. I'm something of a fatalist--I've had to +be. I've always reasoned that if I could make the dream come true--this +dream of pearls--I'd have a chance to turn over a new leaf. I've had to +commit acts at times that were against my nature, my instincts. I've had +to be cruel and terrible, because men would not believe a pretty man could +be a strong one. Do you understand? I have been forced to cruel deeds +because men would not credit a man's heart behind a woman's face. I +possess tremendous nervous energy. That's the principal curse. I can't sit +still; I can't remain long anywhere; I must go, go, go! Like the Wandering +Jew, Ishmael." + +"Do you know what Ishmael means?" + +"No. What?" + +"'God heareth.' Have you ever asked Him for anything?" + +"No. Why should I, since He gave me this withered leg? Please don't preach +to me." + +"I won't, then. But I'm terribly sorry." + +"Of course you are. But--don't become too sorry. I might want to carry you +off to my atoll." + +"If you took me away with you by force, I'd hate you and you'd hate +yourself. But you won't do anything like that." + +"What makes you believe so?" + +"I don't know why, but I do believe it." + +"To be trusted by a woman, a good woman! I'll tell that to the stars. Tell +me about yourself--what you did and how you lived before you came this +side." + +It was not a long story, and he nodded from time to time understandingly. +Genteel poverty, a life of scrimp and pare--the cage. Romance--a flash of +it--and she would return to the old life quite satisfied. Peace, a stormy +interlude; then peace again indefinitely. It came to him that he wanted +the respect of this young woman for always. But the malice that was ever +bubbling up to his tongue and finding speech awoke. + +"Suppose I find my pearls--and then come back for you? Romance and +adventure! These warm stars always above us at night; the brilliant days; +the voyages from isle to isle; palms and gay parrakeets, cocoanuts and +mangosteens--and let the world go hang!" + +She did not reply, but she moved a little away. He waited for a minute, +then laughed softly. + +"My dear young lady, this is the interlude you've always been longing for. +Fate has popped you out of the normal for a few days, and presently she'll +pop you back into it. Some day you'll marry and have children; you'll sink +into the rut of monotony again and not be conscious of it. On winter +nights, before the fire, when the children have been put to bed, your man +buried behind his evening paper, you will recall Slue-Foot and the +interlude and be happy over it. You'll hug and cuddle it to your heart +secretly. A poignant craving in your life had been satisfied. Kidnapped by +pirates, under Oriental stars! Fifteen men on a dead man's chest--yo-ho, +and a bottle of rum! A glorious adventure, with three meals the day and +grand opera on the phonograph. Shades of Gilbert and Sullivan! And you +will always be wondering whether the pirate made love to you in jest or in +earnest--and he'll always be wondering, too!" + +Cunningham turned away abruptly and clumped toward the bridge ladder, +which he mounted. + +For some inexplicable reason her heart became filled with wild resentment +against him. Mocking her, when she had only offered him kindness! She +clung to the idea of mockery because it was the only tangible thing she +could pluck from her confusion. Thus when she began the descent of the +companionway and ran into Dennison coming up her mood was not receptive to +reproaches. + +"Where have you been?" he demanded. + +"Watching the stars and the phosphorescence. I could not sleep." + +"Alone?" + +"No. Mr. Cunningham was with me." + +"I warned you to keep away from that scoundrel!" + +"How dare you use that tone to me? Have you any right to tell me what I +shall and shall not do?" she stormed at him. "I've got to talk to someone. +You go about in one perpetual gloom. I purpose to see and talk to +Cunningham as often as I please. At least he amuses me." + +With this she rushed past him and on to her cabin, the door of which she +closed with such emphasis that it was heard all over the yacht--so sharp +was the report that both Cleigh and Dodge awoke and sat up, half convinced +that they had heard a pistol shot! + +Jane sat down on her bed, still furious. After a while she was able to +understand something of this fury. The world was upside down, wrong end +to. Dennison, not Cunningham, should have acted the debonair, the +nonchalant. Before this adventure began he had been witty, amusing, +companionable; now he was as interesting as a bump on a log. At table he +was only a poor counterfeit of his father, whose silence was maintained +admirably, at all times impressively dignified. Whereas at each encounter +Dennison played directly into Cunningham's hands, and the latter was too +much the banterer not to make the most of these episodes. + +What if he was worried? Hadn't she more cause to worry than any one else? +For all that, she did not purpose to hide behind the barricaded door of +her cabin. If there was a tragedy in the offing it would not fall less +heavily because one approached it with melancholy countenance. + +Heaven knew that she was no infant as regarded men! In the six years of +hospital work she had come into contact with all sorts and conditions of +men. Cunningham might be the greatest scoundrel unhung, but so far as she +was concerned she need have no fear. This knowledge was instinctive. + +But when her cheek touched the pillow she began to cry softly. She was so +terribly lonely! + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +The space through which Jane had passed held Dennison's gaze for two or +three minutes. Then he sat down on the companionway step, his arms across +his knees and his forehead upon his arms. What to say? What to do? She +expected him to be amusing!--when he knew that the calm on board was of +the same deceptive quality as that of the sea--below, the terror! + +It did not matter that the crew was of high average. They would not be +playing such a game unless they were a reckless lot. At any moment they +might take it into their heads to swarm over Cunningham and obliterate +him. Then what? If the episode of the morning had not convinced Jane, what +would? The man Flint had dropped his mask; the others were content to wear +theirs yet awhile. Torture for her sake, the fear of what might actually +be in store for her, and she expected him to talk and act like a chap out +of a novel! + +Ordinarily so full of common sense, what had happened to her that her +vision should become so obscured as not to recognize the danger of the +man? Had he been ugly, Jane would probably have ignored him. But that face +of his, as handsome as a Greek god's, and that tongue with its roots in +oil! And there was his deformity--that had drawn her pity. Playing with +her, and she deliberately walked into the trap because he was amusing! Why +shouldn't he be, knowing that he held their lives in the hollow of his +hand? What imp of Satan wouldn't have been amiable? + +Because the rogues did not run up the skull and crossbones; because they +did not swagger up and down the deck, knives and pistols in their sashes, +she couldn't be made to believe them criminals! + +Amusing! She could not see that if he spoke roughly it was only an +expression of the smothered pain of his mental crucifixion. He could not +tell her he loved her for fear she might misinterpret her own sentiments. +Besides, her present mood was not inductive to any declaration on his +part; a confession might serve only to widen the breach. Who could say +that it wasn't Cunningham's game to take Jane along with him in the end? +There was nothing to prevent that. His father holding aloof, the loyal +members of the crew in a most certain negligible minority, what was there +to prevent Cunningham from carrying off Jane? + +Blood surged into Dennison's throat; a murderous fury boiled up in him; +but he remembered in time what these volcanic outbursts had cost him in +the past. So he did not rush to the chart house. Cunningham would lash him +with ridicule or be forced to shoot him. But his rage carried him as far +as the wireless room. He could hear the smack of the spark, but that was +all. He tried the door--locked. He tried the shutters--latched. +Cunningham's man was either calling or answering somebody. Ten minutes +inside that room and there would be another tale to tell. + +In the end Dennison spent his fury by travelling round the deck until the +sea and sky became like pearly smoke. Then he dropped into a chair and +fell asleep. + +Cunningham had also watched through the night. The silent steersman heard +him frequently rustling papers on the chart table or clumping to the +bridge or lolling on the port sills--a restlessness that had about it +something of the captive tiger. + +Retrospection--he could not break the crowding spell of it, twist mentally +as he would; and the counter-thought was dimly suicidal. The sea there; a +few strides would carry him to the end of the bridge, and then--oblivion. +And the girl would not permit him to enact this thought. He laughed. God +had mocked him at his birth, and the devil had played with him ever +since. He had often faced death hotly and hopefully, but to consider +suicide coldly! + +A woman who had crossed his path reluctantly, without will of her own; the +sort he had always ignored because they had been born for the peace of +chimney corners! She--the thought of her--could bring the past crowding +upon him and create in his mind a suicidal bent! + +Pearls! A great distaste of life fell upon him; the adventure grew flat. +The zest that had been his ten days gone, where was it? + +Imagination! He had been cursed with too much of it. In his youth he had +skulked through alleys and back streets--the fear of laughter and ridicule +dogging his mixed heels. Never before to have paused to philosophize over +what had caused his wasted life! Too much imagination! Mental strabismus! +He had let his over-sensitive imagination wreck and ruin him. A woman's +laughter had given him the viewpoint of a careless world; and he had fled, +and he had gone on fleeing all these years from pillar to post. From a +shadow! + +He was something of a monster. He saw now where the fault lay. He had +never stayed long enough in any one place for people to get accustomed to +him. His damnable imagination! And there was conceit of a sort. Probably +nobody paid any attention to him after the initial shock and curiosity +had died away. There was Scarron in his wheel chair--merry and cheerful +and brave, jesting with misfortune; and men and women had loved him. + +A moral coward, and until this hour he had never sensed the truth! That +was it! He had been a moral coward; he had tried to run away from fate; +and here he was at last, in the blind alley the coward always found at the +end of the run. He had never thought of anything but what he was--never of +what he might have been. For having thrust him unfinished upon a +thoughtless rather than a heartless world he had been trying to punish +fate, and had punished only himself. A wastrel, a roisterer by night, a +spendthrift, and a thief! + +What had she said?--reknead his soul so that it would fit his face? Too +late! + +One staff to lean on, one only--he never broke his word. Why had he laid +down for himself this law? What had inspired him to hold always to that? +Was there a bit of gold somewhere in his grotesque make-up? A straw on the +water, and he clutched it! Why? Cunningham laughed again, and the +steersman turned his head slightly. + +"Williams, do you believe in God?" asked Cunningham. + +"Well, sir, when I'm holding down the wheel--perhaps. The screw is always +edging a ship off, and the lighter the ballast the wider the yaw. So you +have to keep hitching her over a point to starboard. You trust to me to +keep that point, and I trust to God that the north stays where it is." + +"And yet legally you're a pirate." + +"Oh, that? Well, a fellow ain't much of a pirate that plays the game we +play. And yet----" + +"Ah! And yet?" + +"Well, sir, some of the boys are getting restless. And I'll be mighty glad +when we raise that old Dutch bucket of yours. They ain't bad, understand; +just young and heady and wanting a little fun. They growl a lot because +they can't sleep on deck. They growl because there's nothing to drink. Of +course it might hurt Cleigh's feelings, but I'd like to see all his grog +go by the board. You see, sir, it ain't as if we'd just dropped down from +Shanghai. It's been tarnation dull ever since we left San Francisco." + +"Once on the other boat, they can make a night of it if they want to. But +I've given my word on the _Wanderer_." + +"Yes, sir." + +"And it's final." + +Cunningham returned to his chart. All these cogitations because a woman +had entered his life uninvited! Ten days ago he had not been aware of her +existence; and from now on she would be always recurring in his thoughts. + +She was not conscious of it, but she was as a wild thing that had been +born in captivity, and she was tasting the freedom of space again without +knowing what the matter was. But it is the law that all wild things born +in captivity lose everything but the echo; a little freedom, a flash of +what might have been, and they are ready to return to the cage. So it +would be with her. + +Supposing--no, he would let her return to her cage. He wondered--had he +made his word a law simply to meet and conquer a situation such as this? +Or was his hesitance due to the fear of her hate? That would be immediate +and unabating. She was not the sort that would bend--she would break. No, +he wasn't monster enough to play that sort of game. She should take back +her little adventure to her cage, and in her old age it would become a +pleasant souvenir. + +He rose and leaned on his arms against a port sill and stared at the stars +until they began to fade, until the sea and the sky became like the pearls +he would soon be seeking. A string of glass beads, bringing about all +these events! + +At dawn he went down to the deck for a bit of exercise before he turned +in. When he beheld Dennison sound asleep in the chair, his mouth slightly +open, his bare feet standing out conspicuously on the foot rest, a +bantering, mocking smile twisted the corners of Cunningham's lips. +Noiselessly he settled himself in the adjacent chair, and cynically hoping +that Dennison would be first to wake he fell asleep. + +The _Wanderer's_ deck toilet was begun and consummated between six and +six-thirty, except in rainy weather. Hose, mops, and holystone, until the +teak looked as if it had just left the Rangoon sawmills; then the brass, +every knob and piping, every latch and hinge and port loop. The care given +the yacht since leaving the Yang-tse might be well called ingratiating. +Never was a crew more eager to enact each duty to the utmost--with mighty +good reason. + +But when they came upon Dennison and Cunningham, asleep side by side, they +drew round the spot, dumfounded. But their befuddlement was only a tithe +of that which struck Cleigh an hour later. It was his habit to take a +short constitutional before breakfast; and when he beheld the two, asleep +in adjoining chairs, the fact suggesting that they had come to some +friendly understanding, he stopped in his tracks, as they say, never more +astonished in all his days. + +For as long as five minutes he remained motionless, the fine, rugged face +of his son on one side and the amazing beauty of Cunningham's on the +other. But in the morning light, in repose, Cunningham's face was tinged +with age and sadness. There was, however, no grain of pity in Cleigh's +heart. Cunningham had made his bed of horsehair; let him twist and writhe +upon it. + +But the two of them together, sleeping as peacefully as babes! Dennison +had one arm flung behind his head. It gave Cleigh a shock, for he +recognized the posture. As a lad Dennison had slept that way. Cunningham's +withered leg was folded under his sound one. + +What had happened? Cleigh shook his head; he could not make it out. +Moreover, he could not wake either and demand the solution to the puzzle. +He could not put his hand on his son's shoulder, and he would not put it +on Cunningham's. Pride on one side and distaste on the other. But the two +of them together! + +He got round the impasse by kicking out the foot rest of the third chair. +Immediately Cunningham opened his eyes. First he turned to see if Dennison +was still in his chair. Finding this to be the case, he grinned amiably at +the father. Exactly the situation he would have prayed for had he believed +in the efficacy of prayer. + +"Surprises you, eh? Looks as if he had signed on with the Great Adventure +Company." + +His voice woke Dennison, who blinked in the sunshine for a moment, then +looked about. He comprehended at once. + +With easy dignity he swung his bare feet to the deck and made for the +companion; never a second glance at either his father or Cunningham. + +"Chip of the old block!" observed Cunningham. "You two! On my word, I +never saw two bigger fools in all my time! What's it about? What the devil +did he do--murder someone, rob the office safe, or marry Tottie Lightfoot? +And Lord, how you both love me! And how much more you'll love me when I +become the dear departed!" + +Cleigh, understanding that the situation was a creation of pure malice on +Cunningham's part--Cleigh wheeled and resumed his tramp round the deck. + +Cunningham plowed his fingers through his hair, gripped and pulled it in a +kind of ecstasy. Cleigh's phiz. The memory of it would keep him in good +humour all day. After all, there was a lot of good sport in the world. The +days were all right. It was only in the quiet vigils of the night that the +uninvited thought intruded. On board the old Dutch tramp he would sleep +o'nights, and the past would present only a dull edge. + +If the atoll had cocoanut palms, hang it, he would build a shack and make +it his winter home! _Dolce far niente!_ Maybe he might take up the brush +again and do a little amateur painting. Yes, in the daytime the old top +wasn't so bad. He hoped he would have no more nonsense from Flint. A surly +beggar, but a necessary pawn in the game. + +Pearls! Some to sell and some to play with. Lovely, tenderly beautiful +pearls--a rope of them round Jane Norman's throat. He slid off the chair. +As a fool, he hung in the same gallery as the Cleighs. + +Cleigh ate his breakfast alone. Upon inquiry he learned that Jane was +indisposed and that Dennison had gone into the pantry and picked up his +breakfast there. Cleigh found the day unspeakably dull. He read, played +the phonograph, and tried all the solitaires he knew; but a hundred times +he sensed the want of the pleasant voice of the girl in his ears. + +What would she be demanding of him as a reparation? He was always sifting +this query about, now on this side, now on that, without getting anywhere. +Not money. What then? + +That night both Jane and Dennison came in to dinner. Cleigh saw instantly +that something was amiss. The boy's face was gloomy and his lips locked, +and the girl's mouth was set and cheerless. Cleigh was fired by curiosity +to ascertain the trouble, but here again was an impasse. + +"I'm sorry I spoke so roughly last night," said Dennison, unexpectedly. + +"And I am sorry that I answered you so sharply. But all this worry and +fuss over me is getting on my nerves. You've written down Cunningham as a +despicable rogue, when he is only an interesting one. If only you would +give banter for banter, you might take some of the wind out of his sails. +But instead you go about as if the next hour was to be our last!" + +"Who knows?" + +"There you go! In a minute we'll be digging up the hatchet again." + +But she softened the reproach by smiling. At this moment Cunningham came +in briskly and cheerfully. He sat down, threw the napkin across his knees, +and sent an ingratiating smile round the table. + +"Cleigh"--he was always talking to Cleigh, and apparently not minding in +the least that he was totally ignored--"Cleigh, they are doing a good job +in the Santa Maria delle Grazie, so I am told. Milan, of course. They are +restoring Da Vinci's Cenacolo. What called it to mind is the fact that +this is also the last supper. To-morrow at this hour you will be in +possession and I'll be off for my pearls." + +The recipients of this remarkable news appeared petrified for a space. +Cunningham enjoyed the astonishment. + +"Sounds almost too good to be true, doesn't it? Still, it's a fact." + +"That's tiptop news, Cunningham," said Dennison. "I hope when you go down +the ladder you break your infernal neck. But the luck is on your side." + +"Let us hope that it stays there," replied Cunningham, unruffled. He +turned to Cleigh again: "I say, we've always been bewailing that job of Da +Vinci's. But the old boy was a seer. He knew that some day there would be +American millionaires and that I'd become a force in art. So he put his +subject on a plaster wall so I couldn't lug it off. A canvas the same +size, I don't say; but the side of a church!" + +"A ship is going to pick you up to-morrow?" asked Jane. + +"Yes. The crew of the _Wanderer_ goes to the _Haarlem_ and the _Haarlem_ +crew transships to the _Wanderer_. You see, Cleigh, I'm one of those +efficiency sharks. In this game I have left nothing to chance. Nothing +except an act of God--as they say on the back of your steamer ticket--can +derange my plans. Not the least bit of inconvenience to you beyond going +out of your course for a few days. The new crew was signed on in +Singapore--able seamen wanting to return to the States. Hired them in your +name. Clever idea of me, eh?" + +"Very," said Cleigh, speaking directly to Cunningham for the first time +since the act of piracy. + +"And this will give you enough coal to turn and make Manila, where you can +rob the bunkers of one of your freighters. Now, then, early last winter in +New York a company was formed, the most original company in all this rocky +old world--the Great Adventure Company, of which I am president and +general adviser. Pearls! Each member of the crew is a shareholder, +undersigned at fifteen hundred shares, par value one dollar. These shares +are redeemable October first in New York City if the company fails, or are +convertible into pearls of equal value if we succeed. No widows and +orphans need apply. Fair enough." + +"Fair enough, indeed," admitted Cleigh. + +Dennison stared at his father. He did not quite understand this +willingness to hold converse with the rogue after all this rigorously +maintained silence. + +"Of course the Great Adventure Company had to be financed," went on +Cunningham with a deprecating gesture. + +"Naturally," assented Cleigh. "And that, I suppose, will be my job?" + +"Indirectly. You see, Eisenfeldt told me he had a client ready to pay +eighty thousand for the rug, and that put the whole idea into my noodle." + +"Ah! Well, you will find the crates and frames and casings in the forward +hold," said Cleigh in a tone which conveyed nothing of his thoughts. "It +would be a pity to spoil the rug and the oils for the want of a little +careful packing." + +Cunningham rose and bowed. + +"Cleigh, you are a thoroughbred!" + +Cleigh shook his head. + +"I'll have your hide, Cunningham, if it takes all I have and all I am!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +Cunningham sat down. "The spirit is willing, Cleigh, but the flesh is +weak. You'll never get my hide. How will you go about it? Stop a moment +and mull it over. How are you going to prove that I've borrowed the rug +and the paintings? These are your choicest possessions. You have many at +home worth more, but these things you love. Out of spite, will you inform +the British, the French, the Italian governments that you had these +objects and that I relieved you of them? In that event you'll have my +hide, but you'll never set eyes upon the oils again except upon their +lawful walls--the rug, never! On the other hand, there is every chance in +the world of my returning them to you." + +"Your word?" interrupted Jane, ironically. + +So Cleigh was right? A quarter of a million in art treasures! + +"My word! I never before realized," continued Cunningham, "what a fine +thing it is to possess something to stand on firmly--a moral plank." + +Dennison's laughter was sardonic. + +"Moral plank is good," was his comment. + +"Miss Norman," said Cunningham, maliciously, "I slept beside the captain +this morning, and he snores outrageously." The rogue tilted his chin and +the opal fire leaped into his eyes. "Do you want me to tell you all about +the Great Adventure Company, or do you want me to shut up and merely +proceed with the company's business without further ado? Why the devil +should I care what you think of me? Still, I do care. I want you to get my +point of view--a rollicking adventure, in which nobody loses anything and +I have a great desire fulfilled. Hang it, it's a colossal joke, and in the +end the laugh will be on nobody! Even Eisenfeldt will laugh," he added, +enigmatically. + +"Do you intend to take the oils and the rug and later return them?" +demanded Jane. + +"Absolutely! That's the whole story. Only Cleigh here will not believe it +until the rug and oils are dumped on the door-step of his New York home. I +needed money. Nobody would offer to finance a chart with a red cross on +it. So I had to work it out in my own fashion. The moment Eisenfeldt sees +these oils and the rug he becomes my financier, but he'll never put his +claw on them except for one thing--that act of God they mention on the +back of your ticket. Some raider may have poked into this lagoon of mine. +In that case Eisenfeldt wins." + +Cleigh smiled. + +"A pretty case, Cunningham, but it won't hold water. It is inevitable that +Eisenfeldt gets the rug and the paintings, and you are made comfortable +for the rest of your days. A shabby business, and you shall rue it." + +"My word?" + +"I don't believe in it any longer," returned Cleigh. + +Cunningham appealed to Jane. + +"Give me the whole story, then I'll tell you what I believe," she said. +"You may be telling the truth." + +What a queer idea--wanting his word believed! Why should it matter to him +whether they believed in the honour of his word or not, when he held the +whip hand and could act as he pleased? The poor thing! And as that phrase +was uttered in thought, the glamour of him was dissipated; she saw +Cunningham as he was, a poor benighted thing, half boy, half demon, a +thing desperately running away from his hurt and lashing out at friends +and enemies alike on the way. + +"Tell your story--all of it." + +Cunningham began: + +"About a year ago the best friend I had--perhaps the only friend I +had--died. He left me his chart and papers. The atoll is known, but +uncharted, because it is far outside the routes. I have no actual proofs +that there will be shell in the lagoon; I have only my friend's word--the +word of a man as honest as sunshine. Where this shell lies there is never +any law. Some pearl thiever may have fallen upon the shell since my friend +discovered it." + +"In that case," said Cleigh, "I lose?" + +"Frankly, yes! All financial ventures are attended by certain risks." + +"Money? Why didn't you come to me for that?" + +"What! To you?" + +Cunningham's astonishment was perfect. + +"Yes. There was a time when I would have staked a good deal on your +word." + +Cunningham rested his elbows on the table and clutched his hair--a +despairing gesture. + +"No use! I can't get it to you! I can't make you people understand! It +isn't the pearls, it's the game; it's all the things that go toward the +pearls. I want to put over a game no man ever played before." + +Jane began to find herself again drawn toward him, but no longer with the +feeling of unsettled mystery. She knew now why he drew her. He was the +male of the species to which she belonged--the out-trailer, the hater of +humdrum, of dull orbits and of routine. The thrilling years he had +spent--business! This was the adventure of which he had always dreamed, +and since it would never arrive as a sequence, he had proceeded to +dramatize it! He was Tom Sawyer grown up; and for a raft on the +Mississippi substitute a seagoing yacht. There was then in this +matter-of-fact world such a man, and he sat across the table from her! + +"Supposing I had come to you and you had advanced the money?" said +Cunningham, earnestly. "All cut and dried, not a thrill, not a laugh, +nothing but the pearls! I have never had a boyhood dream realized but, +hang it, I'm going to realize this one!" He struck the table violently. +"Set the British after me, and you'll never see this stuff again. You'll +learn whether my word is worth anything or not. Lay off for eight months, +and if your treasures are not yours again within that time you won't have +to chase me. I'll come to you and have the tooth pulled without gas." + +Dennison's eyes softened a little. Neither had he realized any of his +boyhood dreams. For all that, the fellow was as mad as a hatter. + +"Of course I'm a colossal ass, and half the fun is knowing that I am." The +banter returned to Cunningham's tongue. "But this thing will go +through--I feel it. I will have had my fun, and you will have loaned your +treasures to me for eight months, and Eisenfeldt will have his principal +back without interest. The treasures go directly to a bank vault. There +will be two receipts, one dated September--mine; and one dated +November--Eisenfeldt's. I hate Eisenfeldt. He's tricky; his word isn't +worth a puff of smoke; he's ready at all times to play both ends from the +middle. I want to pay him out for crossing my path in several affairs. +He's betting that I will find no pearls. So to-morrow I will exhibit the +rug and the Da Vinci to convince him, and he will advance the cash. Can't +you see the sport of it?" + +"That would make very good reading," said Cleigh, scraping the shell of +his avocado pear. "I can get you on piracy." + +"Prove it! You can say I stole the yacht, but you can't prove it. The crew +is yours; you hired it. The yacht returns to you to-morrow without a +scratch on her paint. And the new crew will know absolutely nothing, being +as innocent as newborn babes. Cleigh, you're no fool. What earthly chance +have you got? You love that rug. You're not going to risk losing it +positively, merely to satisfy a thirst for vengeance. You're human. You'll +rave and storm about for a few days, then you'll accept the game as it +lies. Think of all the excitement you'll have when a telegram arrives or +the phone rings! I told you it was a whale of a joke; and in late October +you'll chuckle. I know you, Cleigh. Down under all that tungsten there is +the place of laughter. It will be better to laugh by yourself than to have +the world laugh at you. Hoist by his own petard! There isn't a newspaper +syndicate on earth that wouldn't give me a fortune for just the yarn. Now, +I don't want the world to laugh at you, Cleigh." + +"Considerate of you." + +"Because I know what that sort of laughter is. Could you pick up the old +life, the clubs? Could a strong man like you exist in an atmosphere of +suppressed chuckles? Mull it over. If these treasures were honourably +yours I'd never have thought of touching them. But you haven't any more +right to them than I have, or Eisenfeldt." + +Dennison leaned back in his chair. He began to laugh. + +"Cunningham, my apologies," he said. "I thought you were a scoundrel, and +you are only a fool--the same brand as I! I've been aching to wring your +neck, but that would have been a pity. For eight months life will be full +of interest for me--like waiting for the end of a story in the magazines." + +"But there is one thing missing out of the tale," Jane interposed. + +"And what is that?" asked Cunningham. + +"Those beads." + +"Oh, those beads! They belonged to an empress of France, and the French +Government is offering sixty thousand for their return. Napoleonic. And +now will you answer a question of mine? Where have you hidden them?" + +Jane did not answer, but rose and left the dining salon. Silence fell upon +the men until she returned. In her hand she held Ling Foo's brass hand +warmer. She set it on the table and pried back the jigsawed lid. From the +heap of punk and charcoal ashes she rescued the beads and laid them on the +cloth. + +"Very clever. They are yours," said Cunningham. + +"Mine?" + +"Why not? Findings is keepings. They are as much yours as mine." + +Jane pushed the string toward Cleigh. + +"For me?" he said. + +"Yes--for nothing." + +"There is sixty thousand dollars in gold in my safe. When we land in San +Francisco I will turn over the money to you. You have every right in the +world to it." + +Cleigh blew the ash from the glass beads and circled them in his palm. + +"I repeat," she said, "they are yours." + +Cunningham stood up. + +"Well, what's it to be?" + +"I have decided to reserve my decision," answered Cleigh, dryly. "To hang +you 'twixt wind and water will add to the thrill, for evidently that's +what you're after." + +"If it's on your own you'll only be wasting coal." + +Cleigh toyed with the beads. + +"The _Haarlem_. Maybe I can save you a lot of trouble," said Cunningham. +"The name is only on her freeboard and stern, not on her master's ticket. +The moment we are hull down the old name goes back." Cunningham turned to +Jane. "Do you believe I've put my cards on the table?" + +"Yes." + +"And that if I humanly can I'll keep my word?" + +"Yes." + +"That's worth many pearls of price!" + +"Supposing," said Cleigh, trickling the beads from palm to +palm--"supposing I offered you the equivalent in cash?" + +"No, Eisenfeldt has my word." + +"You refuse?" Plainly Cleigh was jarred out of his calm. "You refuse?" + +"I've already explained," said Cunningham, wearily. "I've told you that I +like sharp knives to play with. If you handle them carelessly you're cut. +How about you?" Cunningham addressed the question to Dennison. + +"Oh, I'm neutral and interested. I've always had a sneaking admiration for +a tomfool. They were Shakespeare's best characters. Consider me neutral." + +Cleigh rose abruptly and stalked from the salon. + +Cunningham lurched and twisted to the forward passage and disappeared. + +When next Jane saw him in the light he was bloody and terrible. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +Jane and Dennison were alone. "I wonder," he said, "are we two awake, or +are we having the same nightmare?" + +"The way he hugs his word! Imagine a man stepping boldly and mockingly +outside the pale, and carrying along his word unsullied with him! He's +mad, Denny, absolutely mad! The poor thing!" + +That phrase seemed to liberate something in his mind. The brooding +oppression lifted its siege. His heart was no longer a torture chamber. + +"I ought to be his partner, Jane. I'm as big a fool as he is. Who but a +fool would plan and execute a game such as this? But he's sound on one +point. It's a colossal joke." + +"But your father?" + +"Cunningham will have to dig a pretty deep hole somewhere if he expects to +hide successfully. It's a hundred-to-one shot that father will never see +his rug again. He probably realizes that, and he will be relentless. He'll +coal at Manila and turn back. He'll double or triple the new crew's wages. +Money will mean nothing if he starts after Cunningham. Of course I'll be +out of the picture at Manila." + +"Do you know why your father kidnaped me so easily? I thought maybe I +could find a chink in his armour and bring you two together." + +"And you've found the job hopeless!" Dennison shrugged. + +"Won't you tell me what the cause was?" + +"Ask him. He'll tell it better than I can. So you hid the beads in that +hand-warmer! Not half bad. But why don't you take the sixty thousand?" + +"I've an old-fashioned conscience." + +"I don't mean Father's gold, but the French Government's. Comfort as long +as you lived." + +"No, I could not touch even that money. The beads were stolen." + +"Lord, Lord! Then there are three of us--Cunningham, myself, and you!" + +"Are you calling me a tomfool?" + +"Not exactly. What's the feminine?" + +She laughed and rose. + +"You are almost human to-night." + +"Where are you going?" + +"I'm going to have a little talk with your father." + +"Good luck. I'm going to have a fresh pot of coffee. I shall want to keep +awake to-night." + +"Why?" + +"Oh, just an idea. You'd better turn in when the interview is over. Good +luck." + +Jane stood framed in the doorway for a moment. Under the reading lamp in +the main salon she saw Cleigh. He was running the beads from hand to hand +and staring into space. Behind her she heard Dennison's spoon clatter in +the cup as he stirred the coffee. + +Wild horses! She felt as though she were being pulled two ways by wild +horses! For she was about to demand of Anthony Cleigh the promised +reparation. And which of two things should she demand? All this time, +since Cleigh had uttered the promise, she had had but one thought--to +bring father and son together, to do away with this foolish estrangement. +For there did not seem to be on earth any crime that merited such a +condition. If he humanly could--he had modified the promise with that. +What was more human than to forgive--a father to forgive a son? + +And now Cunningham had to wedge in compellingly! She could hesitate +between Denny and Cunningham! The rank disloyalty of it shocked her. To +give Cunningham his eight months! Pity, urgent pity for the broken body +and tortured soul of the man--mothering pity! Denny was whole and sound, +mentally and physically; he would never know any real mental torture, +anything that compared with Cunningham's, which was enduring, now waxing, +now waning, but always sensible. To secure for him his eight months, +without let or hindrance from the full enmity of Cleigh; to give him his +boyhood dream, whether he found his pearls or not. Her throat became +stuffed with the presage of tears. The poor thing! + +But Denny, parting from his father at Manila, the cleavage wider than +ever, beyond hope! Oh, she could not tolerate the thought of that! These +two, so full of strong and bitter pride--they would never meet again if +they separated now. Perhaps fate had assigned the role of peacemaker to +her, and she had this weapon in her hand to enforce it or bring it +about--the father's solemn promise to grant whatever she might ask. And +she could dodder between Denny and Cunningham! + +To demand both conditions would probably appeal to Cleigh as not humanly +possible. One or the other, but not the two together. + +An interval of several minutes of which she had no clear recollection, and +then she was conscious that she was reclining in her chair on deck, +staring at the stars which appeared jerkily and queerly shaped--through +tears. She hadn't had the courage to make a decision. As if it became any +easier to solve by putting it over until to-morrow! + +Chance--the Blind Madonna of the Pagan--was preparing to solve the riddle +for her--with a thunderbolt! + +The mental struggle had exhausted Jane somewhat, and she fell into a doze. +When she woke she was startled to see by her wrist watch that it was after +eleven. The yacht was plowing along through the velvet blackness of the +night. The inclination to sleep gone, Jane decided to walk the deck until +she was as bodily tired as she was mentally. All the hidden terror was +gone. To-morrow these absurd pirates would be on their way. + +Study the situation as she might, she could discover no flaw in this +whimsical madman's plans. He held the crew in his palm, even as he held +Cleigh--by covetousness. Cleigh would never dare send the British after +Cunningham; and the crew would obey him to the letter because that meant +safety and recompense. The Great Adventure Company! Only by an act of God! +And what could possibly happen between now and the arrival of the +_Haarlem_? + +Cleigh had evidently turned in, for through the transoms she saw that the +salon lights were out. She circled the deck house six times, then went up +to the bow and stared down the cutwater at the phosphorescence. Blue +fire! The eternal marvel of the sea! + +A hand fell upon her shoulder. She thought it would be Denny's. It was +Flint's! + +"Be a good sport, an' give us a kiss!" + +She drew back, but he caught her arm. His breath was foul with tobacco and +whisky. + +"All right, I'll take it!" + +With her free hand she struck him in the face. It was a sound blow, for +Jane was no weakling. That should have warned Flint that a struggle would +not be worth while. But where's the drunken man with caution? The blow +stung Flint equally in flesh and spirit. He would kiss this woman if it +was the last thing he ever did! + +Jane fought him savagely, never thinking to call to the bridge. Twice she +escaped, but each time the fool managed to grasp either her waist or her +skirt. Then out of nowhere came the voice of Cunningham: + +"Flint!" + +Dishevelled and breathless, Jane found herself free. She stumbled to the +rail and rested there for a moment. Dimly she could see the two men +enacting a weird shadow dance. Then it came to her that Cunningham would +not be strong enough to vanquish Flint, so she ran aft to rouse Denny. + +As she went down the companionway, her knees threatening to give way, she +heard voices, blows, crashings against the partitions. Instinct told her +to seek her cabin and barricade the door; curiosity drove her through the +two darkened salons to the forward passage. Only a single lamp was on, but +that was enough. Anthony Cleigh's iron-gray head towering above a +whirlwind of fists and forearms! + +What had happened? This couldn't be real! She was still in her chair on +deck, and what she saw was nightmare! Out of the calm, all in a moment, +this! Where was Denny, if this picture wasn't nightmare? Cunningham above, +struggling with the whisky-maddened Flint--Cleigh fighting in the passage! +Dear God, what had happened? + +Where was Denny? The question let loose in her heart and mind all that was +emotional, at the same time enchaining her to the spot where she stood. +Denny! Why, she loved Denny! And she had not known it consciously until +this moment. Because some presciential instinct warned her that Denny was +either dead or badly hurt! + +The narrowness of the passage gave Cleigh one advantage--none of the men +could get behind him. Sometimes he surged forward a little, sometimes he +stepped back, but never back of the line he had set for himself. By and by +Jane forced her gaze to the deck to see what it was that held him like a +rock. What she saw was only the actual of what she had already +envisaged--Denny, either dead or badly hurt! + +What had happened was this: Six of the crew, those spirits who had +succumbed to the secret domination of the man Flint--the drinkers--had +decided to celebrate the last night on the _Wanderer_. Their argument was +that old man Cleigh wouldn't miss a few bottles, and that it would be a +long time between drinks when they returned to the States; and never might +they again have so easy a chance to taste the juice of the champagne +grape. Where was the harm? Hadn't they behaved like little Fauntleroys for +weeks? They did not want any trouble--just half a dozen bottles, and back +to the forepeak to empty them. That wouldn't kill the old man. They +wouldn't even have to force the door of the dry-stores; they had already +learned that they could tickle the lock out of commission by the use of a +bent wire. Young, restless, and mischievous--none of them bad. A bit of +laughter and a few bars of song--that was all they wanted. No doubt the +affair would have blown itself out harmlessly but for the fact that Chance +had other ideas. She has a way with her, this Pagan Madonna, of taking off +the cheerful motley of a jest and substituting the Phrygian cap of terror, +subitaneously. + +Dennison had lain down on the lounge in the main salon. Restless, unhappy, +bitter toward his father, he had lain there counting the throbs of the +engine to that point where they mysteriously cease to register and one has +to wait a minute or two to pick up the throb again. + +For years he had lived more or less in the open, which attunes the human +ear to sounds that generally pass unnoticed. All at once he was sure that +he had heard the tinkle of glass, but he waited. The tinkle was repeated. +Instinct led him at once to the forward passage, and one glance down this +was sufficient. From the thought of a drunken orgy--the thing he had been +fearing since the beginning of this mad voyage--his thought leaped to +Jane. Thus his subsequent acts were indirectly in her defense. + +"What the devil are you up to there?" he called. + +The unexpectedness of the challenge disconcerted the men. They had enough +loot. A quick retreat, and Dennison would have had nothing to do but close +the dry-stores door. But middle twenties are belligerent rather than +discreet. + +"What you got to say about it?" jeered one of the men, shifting his brace +of bottles to the arms of another and squaring off. + +Dennison rushed them, and the melee began. It was a strenuous affair +while it lasted. When a strong man is full of anger and bitter +disappointment, when six young fellows are bored to distraction, nothing +is quite so satisfying as an exchange of fisticuffs. Dennison had the +advantage of being able to hit right and left, at random, while his +opponents were not always sure that a blow landed where it was directed. + +Naturally the racket drew Cleigh to the scene, and he arrived in time to +see a champagne bottle descend upon the head of his son. Dennison went +down. + +Cleigh, boiling with impotent fury, had gone to bed, not to sleep but to +plan; some way round the rogue, to trip him and regain the treasures that +meant so much to him. Like father, like son. When he saw what was going on +in the passage he saw also that here was something that linked up with his +mood. Of course it was to defend the son; but without the bitter rage and +the need of physical expression he would have gone for the hidden revolver +and settled the affair with that. Instead he flew at the men with the +savageness of a gray wolf. He was a tower of a man, for all his sixty +years; and he had mauled three of the crew severely before Cunningham +arrived. + +Why had the mutinous six offered battle? Why hadn't they retreated with +good sense at the start? Originally all they had wanted was the wine. Why +stop to fight when the wine was theirs? In the morning none of them could +answer these questions. Was there ever a rough-and-tumble that anybody +could explain lucidly the morning after? Perhaps it was the false pride of +youth; the bitter distaste at the thought of six turning tail for one. + +Cunningham fired a shot at the ceiling, and a dozen of the crew came +piling in from the forward end of the passage. The fighting stopped +magically. + +"You fools!" cried Cunningham in a high, cracked voice. "To put our heads +into hemp at the last moment. If anything happens to young Cleigh, back to +Manila you go with the yacht! Clear out! At the last moment!" It was like +a sob. + +Jane, still entranced, saw Cleigh stoop and put his arms under the body of +his son, heave, and stand up under the dead weight. He staggered past her +toward the main salon. She heard him mutter. + +"God help me if I'm too late--if I've waited too long! Denny?" + +That galvanized her into action, and she flew to the light buttons, +flooding both the dining and the main salons. She helped Cleigh to place +Dennison on the lounge. After that it was her affair. Dennison was alive, +but how much alive could be told only by the hours. She bathed and +bandaged his head. Beyond that she could do nothing but watch and wait. + +"I wouldn't mind--a little of that--water," said Cunningham, weakly. + +Cleigh, with menacing fists, wheeled upon him; but he did not strike the +man who was basically the cause of Denny's injuries. At the same time +Jane, looking up across Dennison's body, uttered a gasp of horror. The +entire left side of Cunningham was drenched in blood, and the arm +dangled. + +"Flint had a knife--and--was quite handy with it." + +"For me!" she cried. "For defending me! Mr. Cleigh, Flint caught me on +deck--and Mr. Cunningham--oh, this is horrible!" + +"You were right, Cleigh. The best-laid plans of mice and men! What an ass +I am! I honestly thought I could play a game like this without hurt to +anybody. It was to be a whale of a joke. Flint----" + +Cunningham reached blindly for the nearest chair and collapsed in it. + + * * * * * + +An hour later. The four of them were still in the main salon. Jane sat at +the head of the lounge, and from time to time she took Dennison's pulse +and temperature. She had finally deduced that there had been no serious +concussion. Cleigh sat at the foot of the lounge, his head on his hands. +Cunningham occupied the chair into which he had collapsed. Three ugly +flesh wounds, but nothing a little time would not heal. True, he had had a +narrow squeak. He sat with his eyes closed. + +"Why?" asked Jane suddenly, breaking the silence. + +"What?" said Cleigh, looking up. + +"Why these seven years--if you cared? I heard you say something about +being too late. Why?" + +"I'm a queer old fool. An idea, when it enters my head, sticks. I can't +shift my plans easily; I have to go through. What you have witnessed these +several days gives you the impression that I have no heart. That isn't +true. But we Cleighs are pigheaded. Until he was sent to Russia he was +never from under the shadow of my hand. My agents kept me informed of all +his moves, his adventures. The mistake was originally mine. I put him in +charge of an old scholar who taught him art, music, languages, but little +or nothing about human beings. I gave him a liberal allowance; but he was +a queer lad, and Broadway never heard of him. Now I hold that youth must +have its fling in some manner or other; after thirty there is no cure for +folly. So when he ran away I let him go; but he never got so far away that +I did not know what he was doing. I liked the way he rejected the cash I +gave him; the way he scorned to trade upon the name. He went clean. Why? I +don't know. Oh, yes, he got hilariously drunk once in a while, but he had +his fling in clean places. I had agents watching him." + +"Why did he run away?" asked Jane. + +"No man can tell another man; a man has to find it out for himself--the +difference between a good woman and a bad one." + +"I play that statement to win," interposed Cunningham without opening his +eyes. + +"There was a woman?" said Jane. + +"A bad one. Pretty and clever as sin. My fault. I should have sent him to +college where he'd have got at least a glimmer of life. But I kept him +under the tutor until the thing happened. He thought he was in love, when +it was only his first woman. She wanted his money--or, more properly +speaking, mine. I had her investigated and found that she was bad all +through. When I told him boldly what she was he called me a liar. I struck +him across the mouth, and he promptly knocked me down." + +"Pretty good punch for a youngster," was Cunningham's comment. + +"It was," replied Cleigh, grimly. "He went directly to his room, packed, +and cleared out. In that he acted wisely, for at that moment I would have +cast him out had he come with an apology. But the following day I could +not find him; nor did I get track of him until weeks later. He had married +the woman and then found her out. That's all cleared off the slate, +though. She's been married and divorced three times since then." + +"Did you expect to see him over here?" + +"In Shanghai? No. The sight of him rather knocked me about. You +understand? It was his place to make the first sign. He was in the wrong, +and he has known it all these seven years." + +"No," said Jane, "it was your place to make the first advance. If you had +been a comrade to him in his boyhood he would never have been in the +wrong." + +"But I gave him everything!" + +"Everything but love. Did you ever tell him a fairy story?" + +"A fairy story!" Cleigh's face was the essence of bewilderment. + +"You put him in the care of a lovable old dreamer, and then expected him +to accept life as you knew it." + +Cleigh rumpled his cowlicks. A fairy story? But that was nonsense! Fairy +stories had long since gone out of fashion. + +"When I saw you two together an idea popped into my head. But do you care +for the boy?" + +"I care everything for him--or I shouldn't be here!" + +Cunningham relaxed a little more in his chair, his eyes still closed. + +"What do you mean by that?" demanded Cleigh. + +"I let you abduct me. I thought, maybe, if I were near you for a little I +might bring you two together." + +"Well, now!" said Cleigh, falling into the old New England vernacular +which was his birthright. "I brought you on board merely to lure him after +you. I wanted you both on board so I could observe you. I intended to +carry you both off on a cruise. I watched you from the door that night +while you two were dining. I saw by his face and his gestures that he +would follow you anywhere." + +"But I--I am only a professional nurse. I'm nobody! I haven't anything!" + +"Good Lord, will you listen to that?" cried the pirate, with a touch of +his old banter. "Nobody and nothing?" + +Neither Jane nor Cleigh apparently heard this interpolation. + +"Why did you maltreat him?" + +"Otherwise he would have thought I was offering my hand, that I had +weakened." + +"And you expected him to fall on your shoulder and ask your pardon after +that? Mr. Cleigh, for a man of your intellectual attainments, your stand +is the biggest piece of stupidity I ever heard of! How in the world was he +to know what your thoughts were?" + +"I was giving him his chance," declared Cleigh, stubbornly. + +"A yacht? It's a madhouse," gibed Cunningham. "And this is a convention of +fools!" + +"How do you want me to act?" asked Cleigh, surrendering absolutely. + +"When he comes to, take his hand. You don't have to say anything else." + +"All right." + +From Dennison's lips came a deep, long sigh. Jane leaned over. + +"Denny?" she whispered. + +The lids of Dennison's eyes rolled back heavily. + +"Jane--all right?" he asked, quickly. + +"Yes. How do you feel?" + +He reached out a hand whence her voice came. She met the hand with hers, +and that seemed to be all he wanted just then. + +"You'd better get your bathrobe, Mr. Cleigh," she suggested. + +Cleigh became conscious for the first time of the condition of his pyjama +jacket. It hung upon his torso in mere ribbons. He became conscious also +of the fact that his body ached variously and substantially. + +"Thirty-odd years since I was in a racket like this. I'm getting along." + +"And on the way," put in Cunningham, "you might call Cleve. I'd feel +better--stretched out." + +"Oh, I had forgotten!" cried Jane, reproaching herself. Weakened as he +was, and sitting in a chair! + +"And don't forget, Cleigh, that I'm master of the _Wanderer_ until I leave +it. I sympathize deeply," Cunningham went on, ironically, "but I have some +active troubles of my own." + +"And God send they abide with you always!" was Cleigh's retort. + +"They will--if that will give you any comfort. Do you know what? You will +always have me to thank for this. That will be my comforting thought. The +god in the car!" + +Later, when Cleve helped Cunningham into his bunk, the latter asked about +the crew. + +"Scared stiff. They realize that it was a close shave. I've put the fools +in irons. They're best there until we leave. But we can't do anything but +forget the racket when we board the Dutchman. Where's that man Flint? We +can't find him anywhere. He's at the bottom of it. I knew that sooner or +later there'd be the devil to pay with a woman on board. Probably the +fool's hiding in the bunkers. I'll give every rat hole a look-see. Pretty +nearly got you." + +"Flint was out of luck--and so was I! I thought in pistols, and forgot +that there might be a knife or two. I'll be on my feet in the morning. +Little weak, that's all. Nobody and nothing!" said Cunningham, addressing +the remark to the crossbeam above his head. + +"What's that?" asked Cleve. + +"I was thinking out loud. Get back to the chart house. Old Newton may play +us some trick if he isn't watched. And don't bother to search for Flint. I +know where he is." + +Something in Cunningham's tone coldly touched Cleve's spine. He went out, +closing the door quietly; and there was reason for the sudden sweat in his +palms. + +Chance! A wry smile stirred one corner of Cunningham's mouth. He had +boasted that he had left nothing to chance, with this result! Burning up! +Inward and outward fires! Love beads! Well, what were they if not that? +But that she would trust him when everything about him should have +repelled her! Was there a nugget of forgotten gold in his cosmos, and had +she discovered it? She still trusted him, for he had sensed it in the +quick but tender touch of her hands upon his throbbing wounds. + +To learn, after all these years, that he had been a coward! To have run +away from misfortune instead of facing it and beating it down! + +Pearls! All he had left! And when he found them, what then? Turn them into +money he no longer cared to spend? Or was this an interlude--a mocking +interlude, and would to-morrow see his conscience relegated to the dustbin +out of which it had so oddly emerged? + + * * * * * + +When Dennison opened his eyes again Jane was still holding his hand. Upon +beholding his father Dennison held out his free hand. + +"Will you take it, Father? I'm sorry." + +"Of course I'll take it, Denny. I was an old fool." + +"And I was a young one." + +"Would you like a cup of coffee?" Cleigh asked, eagerly. + +"If it won't be too much trouble." + +"No trouble at all." + +A hand pressure, a few inconsequent phrases, that is always enough for two +strong characters in the hour of reconciliation. + +Cleigh out of the way, Jane tried to disengage her hand, but Dennison only +tightened his grip. + +"No"--a pause--"it's different now. The old boy will find some kind of a +job for me. Will you marry me, Jane? I did not speak before, because I +hadn't anything to offer." + +"No?" + +"I couldn't offer marriage until I had a job." + +"But supposing your father doesn't give you one?" + +"Why----" + +"You poor boy! I'm only fishing." + +"For what?" + +"Well, why do you want to marry me?" + +"Hang it, because I love you!" + +"Why didn't you tell me that in the first place? How was I to know unless +you told me? But oh, Denny, I want to go home!" She laid her cheek against +his hand. "I want a garden with a picket fence round it and all the simple +flowers. I never want another adventure in all my days!" + +"Same here!" + +A stretch of silence. + +"What happened to me?" + +"Someone hit you with a wine bottle." + +"A vintage--and I never got a swallow!" + +"And then your father went to your defense." + +"The old boy? Honestly?" + +"He stood astride your body until Mr. Cunningham came in and stopped the +melee." + +"Cunningham! They quit?" + +"Yes--Flint. I didn't dream it wouldn't be safe to go on deck, and Flint +caught me. He was drunk. But for Cunningham, I don't know what would have +happened. I ran and left them fighting, and Flint wounded Cunningham with +a knife. It was for me, Denny. I feel so sorry for him! So alone, hating +himself and hating the world, tortured with misunderstanding--good in him +that he keeps smothering and trampling down. His unbroken word--to hang to +that!" + +"All right. So far as I'm concerned, that cleans the slate." + +"I loved you, Denny, but I didn't know how much until I saw you on the +floor. Do you know what I was going to demand of your father as a +reparation for bringing me on board? His hand in yours. That was all I +wanted." + +"Always thinking of someone else!" + +"That's all the happiness I've ever had, Denny--until now!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +A good deal of orderly commotion took place the following morning. +Cunningham's crew, under the temporary leadership of Cleve, proceeded to +make everything shipshape. There was no exuberance; they went at the +business quietly and grimly. They sensed a shadow overhead. The revolt of +the six discovered to the others what a rickety bridge they were crossing, +how easily and swiftly a jest may become a tragedy. + +They had accepted the game as a kind of huge joke. Everything had been +prepared against failure; it was all cut and dried; all they had to do was +to believe themselves. For days they had gone about their various duties +thinking only of the gay time that would fall to their lot when they left +the _Wanderer_. The possibility that Cleigh would not proceed in the +manner advanced by Cunningham's psychology never bothered them until now. +Supposing the old man's desire for vengeance was stronger than his love +for his art objects? He was a fighter; he had proved it last night. +Supposing he put up a fight and called in the British to help him? + +Not one of them but knew what the penalty would be if pursued and caught. +But Cunningham had persuaded them up to this hour that they would not even +be pursued; that it would not be humanly possible for Cleigh to surrender +the hope of eventually recovering his unlawful possessions. And now they +began to wonder, to fret secretly, to reconsider the ancient saying that +the way of the transgressor is hard. + +On land they could have separated and hidden successfully. Here at sea the +wireless was an inescapable net. Their only hope was to carry on. +Cunningham might pull them through. For, having his own hide to consider, +he would bring to bear upon the adventure all his formidable ingenuity. + +At eleven the commotion subsided magically and the men vanished below, but +at four-thirty they swarmed the port bow, silently if interestedly. If +they talked at all it was in a whispering undertone. + +The mutinous revellers formed a group of their own. They appeared to have +been roughly handled by the Cleighs. The attitude was humble, the +expression worriedly sorrowful. Why hadn't they beat a retreat? The +psychology of their madness escaped them utterly. There was one grain of +luck--they hadn't killed young Cleigh. What fool had swung that bottle? +Not one of them could recall. + +The engines of the _Wanderer_ stopped, and she rolled lazily in the +billowing brass, waiting. + +Out of the blinding topaz of the sou'west nosed a black object, illusory. +It appeared to ride neither wind nor water. + +From the bridge Cleigh eyed this object dourly, and with a swollen heart +he glanced from time to time at the crates and casings stacked below. He +knew that he would never set eyes upon any of these treasures again. When +they were lowered over the side that would be the end of them. Cunningham +might be telling the truth as to his intentions; but he was promising +something that was not conceivably possible, any more than it was possible +to play at piracy and not get hurt. + +At Cleigh's side stood the son, his head swathed in bandages. All day long +he had been subjected to splitting headaches, and his face looked tired +and drawn. He had stayed in bed until he had heard "Ship ahoy!" + +"Are you going to start something?" he asked. + +Cleigh did not answer, but peered through the glass again. + +"I don't see how you're going to land him without the British. On the +other hand, you can't tell. Cunningham might bring the stuff back." + +Cleigh laughed, but still held the glass to his eye. + +"When and where are you going to get married?" + +"Manila. Jane wants to go home, and I want a job." + +Cleigh touched his split lips and his bruised cheekbone, for he had had to +pay for his gallantry; and there was a spot in his small ribs that racked +him whenever he breathed deeply. + +"What the devil do you want of a job?" + +"You're not thinking that I'm going back on an allowance? I've had +independence for seven years, and I'm going to keep it, Father." + +"I've money enough"--brusquely. + +"That isn't it. I want to begin somewhere and build something for myself. +You know as well as I do that if I went home on an allowance you'd begin +right off to dominate me as you used to, and no man is going to do that +again." + +"What can you do?" + +"That's the point--I don't know. I've got to find out." + +Cleigh lowered the glass. + +"Let's see; didn't you work on a sugar plantation somewhere?" + +"Yes. How'd you find that out?" + +"Never mind about that. I can give you a job, and it won't be soft, +either. I've a sugar plantation in Hawaii that isn't paying the dividends +it ought to. I'll turn the management over to you. You make good the +second year, or back you come to me, domination and all." + +"I agree to that--if the plantation can be developed." + +"The stuff is there; all it needs is some pep." + +"All right, I'll take the job." + +"You and your wife shall spend the fall and winter with me. In February +you can start to work." + +"Are you out for Cunningham's hide?" + +"What would you do in my place?" + +"Sit tight and wait." + +Cleigh laughed sardonically. + +"Because," went on Dennison, "he's played the game too shrewdly not to +have other cards up his sleeve. He may find his pearls and return the +loot." + +"Do you believe that? Don't talk like a fool! I tell you, his pearls are +in those casings there! But, son, I'm glad to have you back. And you've +found a proper mate." + +"Isn't she glorious?" + +"Better than that. She's the kind that'll always be fussing over you, and +that's the kind a man needs. But mind your eye! Don't take it for granted! +Make her want to fuss over you." + +When the oncoming tramp reached a point four hundred yards to the +southwest of the yacht she slued round broadside. For a moment or two the +reversed propeller--to keep the old tub from drifting--threw up a +fountain; and before the sudsy eddies had subsided the longboat began a +jerky descent. No time was going to be wasted evidently. + +The _Haarlem_--or whatever name was written on her ticket--was a picture. +Even her shadows tried to desert her as she lifted and wallowed in the +long, burnished rollers. There was something astonishingly impudent about +her. She reminded Dennison of an old gin-sodden female derelict of the +streets. There were red patches all over her, from stem to stern, where +the last coat of waterproof black had blistered off. The brass of her +ports were green. Her name should have been Neglect. She was probably full +of smells; and Dennison was ready to wager that in a moderate sea her +rivets and bedplates whined, and that the pump never rested. + +But it occurred to him that there must be some basis of fact in +Cunningham's pearl atoll, and yonder owner was game enough to take a +sporting chance; that, or he had been handsomely paid for his charter. + +An atoll in the Sulu Archipelago that had been overlooked--that was +really the incredible part of it. Dennison had first-hand knowledge that +there wasn't a rock in the whole archipelago that had not been looked over +and under by the pearl hunters. + +He saw the tramp's longboat come staggering across the intervening water. +Rag-tag and bob-tail of the Singapore docks, crimp fodder--that was what +Dennison believed he had the right to expect. And behold! Except that they +were older, the newcomers lined up about average with the departing--able +seamen. + +The transshipping of the crews occupied about an hour. As the longboat's +boat hook caught the _Wanderer's_ ladder for the third time the crates and +casings were carried down and carefully deposited in the stern sheets. + +About this time Cunningham appeared. He paused by the rail for a minute +and looked up at the Cleighs, father and son. He was pale, and his +attitude suggested pain and weakness, but he was not too weak to send up +his bantering smile. Cleigh, senior, gazed stonily forward, but Dennison +answered the smile by soberly shaking his head. Dennison could not hear +Cunningham's laugh, but he saw the expression of it. + +Cunningham put his hand on the rail in preparation for the first step, +when Jane appeared with bandages, castile soap, the last of her stearate +of zinc, absorbent cotton and a basin of water. + +"What's this--a clinic?" he asked. + +"You can't go aboard that awful-looking ship without letting me give you a +fresh dressing," she declared. + +"Lord love you, angel of mercy, I'm all right!" + +"It was for me. Even now you are in pain. Please!" + +"Pain?" he repeated. + +For one more touch of her tender hands! To carry the thought of that +through the long, hot night! Perhaps it was his ever-bubbling sense of +malice that decided him--to let her minister to him, with the Cleighs on +the bridge to watch and boil with indignation. He nodded, and she followed +him to the hatch, where he sat down. + +Dennison saw his father's hands strain on the bridge rail, the presage of +a gathering storm. He intervened by a rough seizure of Cleigh's arm. + +"Listen to me, Father! Not a word of reproach out of you when she comes +up--God bless her! Anything in pain! It's her way, and I'll not have her +reproached. God alone knows what the beggar saved her from last night! If +you utter a word I'll cash that twenty thousand--it's mine now--and you'll +never see either of us after Manila!" + +Cleigh gently disengaged his arm. + +"Sonny, you've got a man's voice under your shirt these days. All right. +Run down and give the new crew the once-over, and see if they have a +wireless man among them." + + * * * * * + +Sunset--a scarlet horizon and an old-rose sea. For a little while longer +the trio on the bridge could discern a diminishing black speck off to the +southeast. The _Wanderer_ was boring along a point north of east, Manila +way. The speck soon lost its blackness and became violet, and then +magically the streaked horizon rose up behind the speck and obliterated +it. + +"The poor benighted thing!" said Jane. "God didn't mean that he should be +this kind of a man." + +"Does any of us know what God wants of us?" asked Cleigh, bitterly. + +"He wants men like you who pretend to the world that they're +granite-hearted when they're not. Ever since we started, Denny, I've been +trying to recall where I'd seen your father before; and it came a little +while ago. I saw him only once--a broken child he'd brought to the +hospital to be mended. I happened to be passing through the children's +ward for some reason. He called himself Jones or Brown or Smith--I forget. +But they told me afterward that he brought on an average of four children +a month, and paid all expenses until they were ready to go forth, if not +cured at least greatly bettered. He told the chief that if anybody ever +followed him he would never come back. Your father's a hypocrite, Denny." + +"So that's where I saw you?" said Cleigh, ruminatively. He expanded a +little. He wanted the respect and admiration of this young woman--his +son's wife-to-be. "Don't weave any golden halo for me," he added, dryly. +"After Denny packed up and hiked it came back rather hard that I hadn't +paid much attention to his childhood. It was a kind of penance." + +"But you liked it!" + +"Maybe I only got used to it. Say, Denny, was there a wireless man in the +crew?" + +"No. I knew there wouldn't be. But I can handle the key." + +"Fine! Come along then." + +"What are you going to do?" + +"Do? Why, I'm going to have the Asiatic fleets on his heels inside of +twenty-four hours! That's what I'm going to do! He's an unprincipled +rogue!" + +"No," interposed Jane, "only a poor broken thing." + +"That's no fault of mine. But no man can play this sort of game with me, +and show a clean pair of heels. The rug and the paintings are gone for +good. I swore to him that I would have his hide, and have it I will! I +never break my word." + +"Denny," said Jane, "for my sake you will not touch the wireless." + +"I'm giving the orders!" roared Cleigh. + +"Wait a moment!" said Jane. "You spoke of your word. That first night you +promised me any reparation I should demand." + +"I made that promise. Well?" + +"Give him his eight months." + +She gestured toward the sea, toward the spot where they had last seen the +_Haarlem_. + +"You demand that?" + +"No, I only ask it. I understand the workings of that twisted soul, and +you don't. Let him have his queer dream--his boyhood adventure. Are you +any better than he? Were those treasures honourably yours? Fie! No, I +won't demand that you let him go; I'll only ask it. Because you will not +deny to me what you gave to those little children--generosity." + +Cleigh did not speak. + +"I want to love you," she continued, "but I couldn't if there was no mercy +in your sense of justice. Be merciful to that unhappy outcast, who +probably never had any childhood, or if he had, a miserable one. Children +are heartless; they don't know any better. They pointed the finger of +ridicule and contempt at him--his playmates. Imagine starting life like +that! And he told me that the first woman he loved--laughed in his face! I +feel--I don't know why--that he was always without care, from his +childhood up. He looked so forlorn! Eight months! We need never tell him. +I'd rather he shouldn't know that I tried to intercede for him. But for +him we three would not be here together, with understanding. I only ask +it." + +Cleigh turned and went down the ladder. Twenty times he circled the deck; +then he paused under the bridge and sent up a hail. + +"Dinner is ready!" + +The moment Jane reached the deck Cleigh put an arm round her. + +"No other human being could have done it. It is a cup of gall and +wormwood, but I'll take it. Why? Because I am old and lonely and want a +little love. I have no faith in Cunningham's word, but he shall go free." + +"How long since you kissed any one?" she asked. + +"Many years." And he stooped to her cheek. To press back the old brooding +thought he said with cheerful brusqueness: "Suppose we celebrate? I'll +have Togo ice a bottle of that vintage those infernal ruffians broke over +your head last night." + +Dennison laughed. + + * * * * * + +October. + +The Cleigh library was long and wide. There was a fine old blue Ispahan on +the floor. The chairs were neither historical nor uncomfortable. One came +in here to read. The library was on the second floor. When you reached +this room you left the affairs of state and world behind. + +A wood fire crackled and shifted in the fireplace, the marble hood of +which had been taken from a famous Italian palace. The irons stood ready +as of yore for the cups of mulled wine. Before this fire sat a little old +woman knitting. Her feet were on a hassock. From time to time her +bird-like glance swept the thinker in the adjacent chair. She wondered +what he could see in the fire there to hold his gaze so steadily. The +little old lady had something of the attitude of a bird that had been +given its liberty suddenly, and having always lived in a cage knew not +what to make of all these vast spaces. + +She was Jane's mother, and sitting in the chair beside her was Anthony +Cleigh. + +"There are said to be only five portable authentic paintings by Leonardo +da Vinci," said Cleigh, "and I had one of them, Mother. Illegally, +perhaps, but still I had it. It is a copy that hangs in the European +gallery. There's a point. Gallery officials announce a theft only when +some expert had discovered the substitution. There are a number of +so-called Da Vincis, but those are the works of Boltraffio, Da Vinci's +pupil. I'll always be wondering, even in my grave, where that crook, +Eisenfeldt, had disposed of it." + +Mrs. Norman went on with her knitting. What she heard was as instructive +and illuminating to her as Chinese would have been. + +From the far end of the room came piano music; gentle, dreamy, broken +occasionally by some fine, thrilling chord. Dennison played well, but he +had the habit of all amateurs of idling, of starting something, and +running away into improvisations. Seated beside him on the bench was Jane, +her head inclined against his shoulder. Perhaps that was a good reason why +he began a composition and did not carry it through to its conclusion. + +"That was a trick of his mother's," said Cleigh, still addressing the +fire. "All the fine things in him he got from her. I gave him his +shoulders, but I guess that's about all." + +Mrs. Norman did not turn her head. She had already learned that she wasn't +expected to reply unless Cleigh looked at her directly. + +"There's a high wind outside. More rain, probably. But that's October in +these parts. You'll like it in Hawaii. Never any of this brand of weather. +I may be able to put the yacht into commission." + +"The sea!" she said in a little frightened whisper. + + * * * * * + +"Doorbells!" said Dennison with gentle mockery. "Jane, you're always +starting up when you hear one. Still hanging on? It isn't Cunningham's +willingness to fulfill his promise; it's his ability I doubt. A thousand +and one things may upset his plans." + +"I know. But, win or lose, he was to let me know." + +"The poor devil! I never dared say so to Father, but when I learned that +Cunningham meant no harm to you I began to boost for him. I like to see a +man win against huge odds, and that's what he has been up against." + +"Denny, I've never asked before; I've been a little afraid to, but did you +see Flint when the crew left?" + +"I honestly didn't notice; I was so interested in the disreputable old +hooker that was to take them off." + +She sighed. Fragments of that night were always recurring in her dreams. + +The door opened and the ancient butler entered. His glance roved until it +caught the little tuft of iron-gray hair that protruded above the rim of +the chair by the fire. Noiselessly he crossed the room. + +"Beg pardon, sir," he said, "but a van arrived a few minutes ago with a +number of packing cases. The men said they were for you, sir. The cases +are in the lower hall. Any orders, sir?" + +Cleigh rose. + +"Cases? Benson, did you say--cases?" + +"Yes, sir. I fancy some paintings you've ordered, sir." + +Cleigh stood perfectly still. The butler eyed him with mild perturbation. +Rarely he saw bewilderment on his master's countenance. + +"Cases?" + +"Yes, sir. Fourteen or fifteen of them, sir." + +Cleigh felt oddly numb. For days now he had denied to himself the reason +for his agitation whenever the telephone or doorbell rang. Hope! It had +not served to crush it down, to buffet it aside by ironical commentaries +on the weakness of human nature; the thing was uncrushable, insistent. +Packing cases! + +"Denny! Jane!" he cried, and bolted for the door. + +The call needed no interpretation. The two understood, and followed him +downstairs precipitately, with the startled Benson the tail to the kite. + +"No, no!" shouted Cleigh. "The big one first!" as Dennison laid one of the +smaller cases on the floor. "Benson, where the devil is the claw hammer?" + +The butler foraged in the coat closet and presently emerged with a prier. +Cleigh literally snatched it from the astonished butler's grasp, pried and +tore off a board. He dug away at the excelsior until he felt the cool +glass under his fingers. He peered through this glass. + +"Denny, it's the rug!" + +Cleigh's voice cracked and broke into a queer treble note. + +Jane shook her head. Here was an incurable passion, based upon the +specious argument that galleries and museums had neither consciences nor +stomachs. You could not hurt a wall by robbing it of a painting--a passion +that would abide with him until death. Not one of these treasures in the +casings was honourably his, but they were more to him than all his +legitimate possessions. To ask him to return the objects to the galleries +and museums to which they belonged would be asking Cleigh to tear out his +heart. Though the passion was incomprehensible, Jane readily observed its +effects. She had sensed the misery, the anxiety, the stinging curiosity +of all these months. Not to know exactly what had become of the rug and +the paintings! Not to know if he would ever see them again! There was only +one comparison she could bring to bear as an illustration: Cleigh was like +a man whose mistress had forsaken him without explanations. + +She was at once happy and sad: happy that her faith in Cunningham had not +been built upon sand, sad that she could not rouse Cleigh's conscience. +Secretly a charitable man, honest in his financial dealings, he could +keep--in hiding, mind you!--that which did not belong to him. It was +beyond her understanding. + +An idea, which had been nebulous until this moment, sprang into being. + +"Father," she said, "you will do me a favour?" + +"What do you want--a million? Run and get my check book!" he cried, +gayly. + +"The other day you spoke of making a new will." + +Cleigh stared at her. + +"Will you leave these objects to the legal owners?" + +Cleigh got up, brushing his knees. + +"After I am dead? I never thought of that. After I'm dead," he repeated. +"Child, a conscience like yours is top-heavy. Still, I'll mull it over. I +can't take 'em to the grave with me, that's a fact. But my ghost is bound +to get leg-weary doing the rounds to view them again. What do you say, +Denny?" + +"If you don't, I will!" + +Cleigh chuckled. + +"That makes it unanimous. I'll put it in the codicil. But while I live! +Benson, what did these men look like? One of them limp?" + +"No, sir. Ordinary trucking men, I should say, sir." + +"The infernal scoundrel! No message?" + +"No, sir. The man who rang the bell said he had some cases for you, and +asked where he should put them. I thought the hall the best place, sir, +temporarily." + +"The infernal scoundrel!" + +"What the dickens is the matter with you, Father!" demanded Dennison. +"You've got back the loot." + +"But how? The story, Denny! The rogue leaves me 'twixt wind and water as +to how he got out of this hole." + +"Maybe he was afraid you still wanted his hide," suggested Jane, now +immeasurably happy. + +"He did it!" said Cleigh, his sense of amazement awakening. "One chance in +a thousand, and he caught that chance! But never to know how he did it!" + +"Aren't you glad now," said Jane, "that you let him go?" + +Cleigh chuckled. + +"There!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands. "Just as he said! He +prophesied that some day you would chuckle over it. He found his pearls. +He knew he would find them! The bell!" she broke off, startled. + +Never had Benson, the butler, witnessed such an exhibition of undignified +haste. Cleigh, Jane, and Dennison, all three of them started for the door +at once, jostling. What they found was only a bedraggled messenger boy, +for it was now raining. + +"Mr. Cleigh," said the boy, grumpily, as he presented a letter and a small +box. "No answer." + +"Where is the man who sent you?" asked Jane, tremendously excited. + +"De office pushed me on dis job, miss. Dey said maybe I'd git a good tip +if I hustled." + +Dennison thrust a bill into the boy's hand and shunted him forth into the +night again. + +The letter was marked Number One and addressed to Cleigh; the box was +marked Number Two and addressed to Jane. + +Mad, thought Benson, as he began to gather up the loose excelsior; quite +mad, the three of them. + +With Jane at one shoulder and Dennison at the other, Cleigh opened his +letter. The first extraction was a chart. An atoll; here were groups of +cocoanut palm, there of plantain; a rudely drawn hut. In the lagoon at a +point east of north was a red star, and written alongside was a single +word. But to the three it was an Odyssey--"Shell." In the lower left-hand +corner of the chart were the exact degrees and minutes of longitude and +latitude. With this chart a landlubber could have gone straight to the +atoll. + +Next came the letter, which Cleigh did not read aloud--it was not +necessary. With what variant emotions the three pairs of eyes leaped from +word to word! + + Friend Buccaneer: Of course I found the shell. That was the one issue + which offered no odds. The shell lay in its bed peculiarly under a + running ledge. The ordinary pearler would have discovered it only by + the greatest good luck. Atherton--my friend--discovered it, because + he was a sea naturalist, and was hunting for something altogether + different. Atherton was wealthy, and a coral reef was more to him + than a pearl. But he knew me and what such a game would mean. He was + in ill health and had to leave the South Pacific and fare north. This + atoll was his. It is now mine, pearls and all, legally mine. For a + trifling sum I could have chartered a schooner and sought the atoll. + + But all my life I've hunted odds--big, tremendous odds--to crush down + and swarm over. The only interest I had in life. And so I planted the + crew and stole the _Wanderer_ because it presented whopping odds. I + selected a young and dare-devil crew to keep me on edge. From one day + to another I was always wondering when they would break over. I + refused to throw overboard the wines and liquors to make a good + measure. + + And there was you. Would you sit tight under such an outrage, or + would your want of revenge ride you? Would you send the British + piling on top of me, or would you make it a private war? Suspense! + Dick Cunningham would not be hard to trace. Old Slue Foot. The + biggest odds I'd ever encountered. Nominally, I had about one chance + in a thousand of pulling through. + + The presence of Mrs. Cleigh--of course she's Mrs. Cleigh by this + time!--added to the zest. To bring her through with nothing more than + a scare! Odds, odds! Cleigh, on my word, the pearls would have been + of no value without the game I built to go with them. Over the danger + route! Mad? Of course I'm mad! + + Four-year-old shell, the pearls of the finest orient! The shell + alone--in buttons--would have recouped Eisenfeldt. He was ugly when + he saw that I had escaped him. Threatened to expose you. But knowing + Eisenfeldt for what he is, I had a little sword of Damocles suspended + over his thick neck. The thought of having lost eight months' + interest will follow him to Hades. + + The crew gave me no more trouble. They've been paid their dividends + in the Great Adventure Company, and have gone seeking others. But + I'll warrant they'll take only regular berths in the future. + + And now those beads. I'm sorry, but I'm also innocent. I have learned + that Morrissy really double-crossed us all. He had had a copy made in + Venice. The beads you have are forgeries. So the sixty thousand + offered by the French Government remains uncalled for. Who has the + originals I can't say. I'm sorry. Morrissy's game was risky. His idea + was to make a sudden breakaway with the beads--lose them in the + gutter--and trust to luck that we would just miss killing him, which + was the case. + + Leaving to-night. Bought a sloop down there, and I'm going back there + to live. Tired of human beings. Tired of myself. Still, there's the + chart. Mull it over. Maybe it's an invitation. The lagoon is like + turquoise and the land like emerald and the sky a benediction. + + * * * * * + +A spell of silence and immobility. Not a word about his battle with Flint, +thought Jane. A little shiver ran over her. But what a queer, whimsical +madman! To have planned it all so that he could experience a thrill! The +tragic beauty of his face and the pitiable, sluing, lurching stride! She +sighed audibly, so did the two men. + +"Denny, I don't know," said Cleigh. + +"I do!" said Dennison, anticipating his father's thought. "He's a man, and +some day I'd like to clasp his hand." + +"Maybe we all shall," said Cleigh. "But open the box, Jane, and let's +see." + +Between the layers of cotton wool she found a single pearl as large as a +hazelnut, pink as the Oriental dawn. One side was slightly depressed, as +though some mischievous, inquisitive mermaid had touched it in passing. + +"Oh, the lovely thing!" she gasped. "The lovely thing! But, Denny, I can't +accept it!" + +"And how are you going to refuse it? Keep it. It is an emblem of what you +are, honey. The poor devil!" + +And he put his arm round her. He understood. Why not? There are certain +attractions which are irresistible, and Jane was unconscious of her +possessions. + +Jane raised the bottom layer of cotton wool. What impulse led her to do +this she could not say, but she found a slip of paper across which was +written: + + "An' I learned about women from 'er." + +All this while, across the street, in the shadow of an areaway, stood a +man in a mackintosh and a felt hat drawn well down. He had watched the van +disgorge and roll away, the arrival and the departure of the messenger +boy. + +He began to intone softly: "'Many waters cannot quench love, neither can +the floods drown it: if a man would give all the substance of his house +for love, it would utterly be contemned.'" + +With a sluing lurch to his stride he started off down the street, into the +lashing rain. A great joke; and now there was nothing at all to disturb +his dreams--but the dim white face of Jabez Flint spinning in the dark of +the sea. + +THE END + +[Illustration] + +THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS +GARDEN CITY, N. 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