"A Yankee ship's gone down the river,Her masts and yards they shine like silver.How d'you know she's a Yankee clipper?By the Stars and Stripes that fly above her.And who d'you think is captain of her?One-eyed Kelly, the Bowery runner.And what d'you think they had for dinner?Belaying-pin soup and monkey's liver."
"A Yankee ship's gone down the river,Her masts and yards they shine like silver.How d'you know she's a Yankee clipper?By the Stars and Stripes that fly above her.And who d'you think is captain of her?One-eyed Kelly, the Bowery runner.And what d'you think they had for dinner?Belaying-pin soup and monkey's liver."
There was a chorus between each line of "Blow boys, bully boys blow," which the others took up and yelled at the tops of their voices. In fact, the men were in such high spirits that, on the smallest provocation, they would have raised three cheers for the skipper—but the provocation was not given.
Calamity paced up and down the bridge, grim and taciturn as ever, his hands buried in the pockets of his monkey jacket. About a cable's length astern was theSatellite, with Mr. Dykes lolling on the bridge and making mental calculations as to the number of dollars that would fall to his share when the final settlement was made. Like their comrades on theHawk, the crew was busy making the ship spick and span, nor were their anticipations less cheerful. Even the prisoners on both vessels were perking up at the prospect of being released from the hot and stifling quarters where they had spent so many weary days.
Perhaps the only gloomy members of the expedition were the Captain himself and Dora Fletcher. The latter was sitting in her cabin gazing thoughtfully out of the open port. Since that evening when Calamity had asked her to marry him and she had refused, he had not mentioned the subject again; his manner, indeed, seemed to indicate that he had dismissed the matter from his mind. With feminine inconsistency she now fervently wished that Smith had never told her the secret of the Captain's identity, for then everything would have been quite simple. Yet she tried to comfort herself with the thought that it was better as it was, better that she should know the truth before it was too late and she found herself faced by a situation with which, she assured herself, she was totally unfitted to grapple. Involuntarily the girl sighed. So this was to be the end of her one and only romance. Rightly or wrongly, she had rejected the love she desired above all else and the one man with whom she would have gladly mated.
Meanwhile theHawkand her consort were drawing nearer to Singapore, and presently, in answer to a signal, a pilot-boat approached, and, standing off, lowered a boat which quickly came alongside the yacht. The pilot, a grizzled, weather-beaten man, scrambled out of the stern-sheets and climbed on board.
"Well I'm jiggered!" he exclaimed as the Captain stepped forward to greet him, "if it ain't Calamity."
"The same, Abott," answered the latter as they shook hands, for this was not the first time by a good many that the pilot had taken him into Singapore.
"But, bless my soul, skipper, this is the hooker that you wafted out of Singapore."
"It is," answered Calamity. "But come along to my cabin and have a drink, Abott. I'd like to have a little pow-wow with you."
Nothing loth, the pilot accompanied him to the cabin, where Calamity, after carefully locking the door, brought out a bottle and some glasses from a cupboard.
"The usual?" he inquired.
"Aye, skipper, my tastes ain't changed since we last met."
The Captain poured out a generous helping of brandy, which he handed to the pilot and then poured out a like dose for himself.
"Here's luck," said the other as he raised his glass.
Calamity nodded and tossed off his drink.
"What's the news?" he asked.
"About the war? Oh, nothing special, the Germans ain't took Paris, and we haven't burnt down Berlin. But say, skipper, what in thunder made you hike off with the oldArrow?"
"The what?" asked Calamity staring hard at the other.
"TheArrow, this old packet of Rossenbaum's."
The Captain made no answer for a moment and then a look of understanding came into his face.
"Oh, so the story is that I made off with Rossenbaum's ship?"
"You bet it is and there's a nice old shindy over it," answered the pilot. "Rossenbaum accused Solomon of having stolen his blooming steamer, and Solomon took his oath that you'd taken it unbeknownst to him."
"What you've told me explains a lot of things, Abott. The excellent Solomon's manoeuvres puzzled me from the start, but now I begin to see daylight. I'll have one or two little bones to pick with Isaac when I get ashore."
"Now, see here, skipper, jest you take my tip," said the other earnestly. "Don't put into Singapore. It ain't a healthy place for you, and that's a fact."
"Why not?"
"Why not! Well, you don't suppose a man can be accused of pinching some other party's ship and the authorities not say a word, do you?"
"You mean they're after me?"
"There's a warrant out for your arrest under the Piracy Act or something of that sort."
"H'm," grunted Calamity; "that's news."
"Now see here, skipper, we've known each other a tidy while, and you know I'm not the man to lead an old friend into a mess if I can help it. Take my advice and make for some other port; you may take your oath that I shan't say a word about having picked you up."
"Abott, you're a white man," answered Calamity, "but I'm not taking your advice, good as it sounds. Solomon has played his card, but I can trump it; he's absolutely in my hands, though he doesn't know it yet. Now we'll dismiss that subject for the present, and talk of something far more important. First of all, can you trust the men on your boat?"
"Trust 'em? Well, I should say so," answered the pilot in surprise.
"What I mean is, can they keep their mouths shut?"
"Like limpets."
"Right. Now just listen to this little yarn of mine, Abott, and don't interrupt before I'm through. Savee?"
"Forge ahead, skipper."
For close upon half an hour the Captain talked in lowered tones, and, as he proceeded, the pilot's face exhibited every degree of astonishment. Even when Calamity had finished he remained silent for some moments, as if unable to wholly realise what the latter had told him.
"Well I'm damned!" he muttered at last, and, taking a large blue handkerchief from his pocket, mopped his face.
"And now the question is, will you accept the proposal or not?" asked the Captain.
"I don't know that I've fairly got my teeth into it yet, skipper. It sort o' takes one's breath away, and that's a fact."
"I'm afraid I can't give you much time to think it over, Abott."
"By thunder, I'll take it on then!"
"I'm glad, because there's no other man I could trust," answered Calamity. "We'd better set to work and get the job over as quickly as possible."
"Wait, though," said the other. "This is the sort of thing that wants to be done at night. Suppose we sheer away from land a bit and don't put in till to-morrow morning?"
"That's not a bad idea. Your boat could come alongside after dark then?"
"Yes, but there's another thing to consider as well. How about the men? Can't you pay them off, prize-money and all, before we put in? You'll want to get rid of that crowd as soon as possible after the hook touches mud."
"It might be possible. Just lend me a hand, Abott."
With the pilot's assistance, all the boxes containing money, including the heavy box found in the fort, were dragged out into the middle of the cabin and opened.
"Before we count this you'd better tell the first-mate—a woman, by the way—to alter the course and signal theSatelliteto do the same," said the Captain.
The pilot left the cabin, and when he returned Calamity had already started to count out the money. Even with the two of them at work it took a long time, and when it was finished and the values of the various currencies adjusted, Calamity made some hurried calculations on paper.
"I can offer each man about a hundred pounds in addition to wages due," he said at last.
"And a pretty fine bonus, too, for such a short trip! They won't jib at that offer, you bet your life. The sooner that deal's squared the better, I should say, skipper."
The Captain unlocked the cabin door, and, calling Sing-hi, told him to fetch the bos'n.
"I want you to make a proposal to the men," said Calamity, when the bos'n appeared. "In the ordinary way they might have to wait a week or more before they received the prize-money due to them, but, if they prefer it, I will pay each man a hundred pounds cash in addition to wages. They might get more by waiting till the stuff is valued and disposed of, but, if they prefer the cash, I will divide the balance among the various marine charities."
"I'm for the cash myself, sir, and I think the others'll be the same; but I'll tell them what you say," answered the bos'n.
"As for the officers and engineers," said Calamity when the bos'n had left the cabin, "they will have to wait until their shares can be properly adjudged."
"As long as we can get rid of the crew, they don't matter, skipper."
In a few minutes the bos'n returned and said that the men were unanimously in favour of taking the cash.
"Then assemble the men aft at eight bells, bos'n."
"Aye, aye, sir," answered the latter, and departed.
"Now," said Calamity, rising from his chair, "I'll signal Mr. Dykes to put the same proposal to his men."
He accordingly did this, and in a very short time received a message back to the effect that the men would prefer the cash payment.
At eight o'clock that evening the crew of theHawklined up aft to receive their money. As each man's name was called out by the bos'n, the owner of it stepped up to the little table where Calamity was seated and received in his hat the equivalent in money and notes of about a hundred and twenty pounds, prize-money and pay. When they had all been paid, a boat was lowered and the Captain went aboard theSatellite, where a similar distribution was made.
Later on that night, when it was quite dark, a boat approached theHawkand made fast under her stern. Some cases and bags were lowered into her and then she slipped away into the darkness again.
Early on the following morning theHawk, with the gunboat in her wake, steamed towards Singapore harbour. As the vessels drew nearer, a motor-boat was seen approaching at full speed, and presently a man in the stern stood up and began to wave his arms frantically, apparently as a signal for the ships to heave-to.
"Now, who the devil's that?" muttered Calamity, who was on the bridge with the pilot.
"Looks uncommon like Solomon's new motor bum-boat," answered the latter. "That's his water-clerk in the stern."
By this time the motor-boat had come within hailing distance, and the excited person ceased waving his arms and applied both hands to his mouth funnel-wise.
"Ship ahoy!" he yelled. "Is Captain Calamity on board?"
"Great Scot! How in the name of all that's uncanny did Solomon know that I was coming into port!" ejaculated Calamity, turning to the pilot.
"Well, he might have heard from one of my men who went ashore last night. I didn't tell them not to say anything about your coming in."
"Is that Captain Calamity?" shouted the water-clerk once more.
"Yes, what do you want?" answered the Captain.
"I want to see you, sir. I have a message from Mr. Solomon."
"Then come alongside."
The motor-boat sheered alongside theHawk, and the water-clerk, gripping a rope which had been thrown over the taffrail, hauled himself on board. He waited at the foot of the bridge companion-ladder for Calamity to come down, having learnt from experience that it was an unforgivable offence to go on the bridge himself unless requested to do so.
"Now then, what's your message?" asked Calamity, as he descended the ladder.
The water-clerk, an undersized Malay half-breed with small, shifty eyes, made a movement that was something between a salaam and a salute.
"I have important news from Mr. Solomon, Captain," he said.
"Well, go ahead."
The clerk glanced at the men at work on deck and made a significant gesture.
"It is very private, sir," he answered.
"Then you'd better come to my cabin," said the Captain, and led the way aft. On entering the cabin he sat down, but did not request his visitor to do likewise, and the latter knew enough to remain standing.
"Now unload your instructions," said Calamity.
"The fact is, Captain, there's been great trouble about you in Singapore," began the clerk, speaking in subdued tones. "It's said that your Letters of Marque were forged and that you're nothing but a pirate——"
"A what?" broke in the Captain, so fiercely that the other jumped.
"I—I'm only telling you what people say," the clerk answered nervously.
"You mean you're telling me what Solomon told you to say. Well, get on with it."
"I know nothing about the matter myself, Captain, but the authorities are going to arrest you and take possession of the ship."
"And Mr. Solomon has sent you to warn me, is that it?" asked Calamity with an ironical smile.
"Yes. He is afraid that the authorities will seize the ship and all the plunder."
"That's better, now we're getting at the truth. But how does Solomon know I've got any plunder?"
"He did not think you would return without any."
"H'm, a far-seeing man is Solomon. But what does he expect me to do?"
"His idea is that you should transfer the most valuable stuff to the motor-boat so that it may be taken away to a safe place. Then, you see, when the officials board your ship they will find practically nothing."
"An excellent plan," remarked Calamity almost with enthusiasm. "But what about me?"
"About you, Captain?"
"Yes; am I to be left to the care of the police while Solomon is looking after the plunder?"
"Oh no!" ejaculated the clerk in shocked tones. "If there is nothing of value on board the authorities can't do much to you. Besides, Mr. Solomon will do his utmost to secure your acquittal if you are tried."
"A very ingenious scheme. And now tell me about this story of theArrow."
"TheArrow?" repeated the other with affected innocence.
"Exactly. Hasn't Solomon declared that I stole it; that, in short, it belonged to Rossenbaum?"
A startled expression crossed the water-clerk's face, but it was gone in an instant.
"I think you must be mistaken, Captain," he answered suavely. "I have heard nothing about theArrow."
"Well, you go back to Solomon and tell him that his little scheme's gone adrift, and that he needn't worry himself about the plunder, because I'm looking after it myself. Now quit."
The clerk looked as if he would have liked to protest, but thought better of it, and, leaving the cabin, hurried back to the motor-boat which then made for the harbour at full speed.
"That'll shake up our friend Solomon a bit, I fancy," said Calamity, when he had told Abott about the interview. "It was a clever scheme, and might have succeeded if you hadn't told me about thatArrowaffair."
"He'll be about the maddest thing between here and 'Frisco when that little runt gives him your message," answered the pilot with a grin.
"The whole thing's as clear as daylight now," went on Calamity. "He got hold of Rossenbaum's ship and palmed it off on me as his own, so that, when the time came, he could get me arrested on a charge of piracy and collar the whole of the proceeds himself. There are two things he didn't count on, however, and one of them was that I might get rid of the stuff before reaching Singapore."
"But you've still got to prove that you didn't pirate old Rossenbaum's hooker."
Calamity laughed softly, but made no answer. Very soon afterwards a naval steam pinnace hove in sight, and, without signalling theHawkto stop, came alongside. A young Lieutenant caught hold of the rope by which the water-clerk had lowered himself into the motor-boat and scrambled on board with the agility of a monkey.
"Captain Calamity?" he inquired briskly as the latter, who had left the bridge, came forward.
"At your service," answered the Captain.
"It is my duty to inform you, sir, that you are under arrest," said the officer.
"On what charge?"
"The charge will be formulated by the authorities," replied the Lieutenant, who, apparently, had no very great liking for this police work.
"What do you propose to do with me then?"
"I must ask you to accompany me ashore as soon as this vessel is anchored."
"I am at your disposal," answered the Captain.
Steaming into the harbour, theHawkdropped her anchor, and theSatellite, having received no orders to the contrary, followed suit. While this work was proceeding, a native boat put off from the shore and approached the yacht. In it was a passenger attired in a frock coat, and—a thing as rare in Singapore as snow—a tall silk hat. The boat came alongside, and the boatman, in answer to an inquiry from his passenger, indicated the rope that was still hanging over the taffrail of theHawk.
"Hullo, what is it?" shouted the Lieutenant from the deck above.
"Can you tell me if Mr. John Brighouse is on board?" inquired the silk-hatted person in dignified tones.
"I will ask, but who are you?"
The stranger took a card-case from his pocket, but, realising the impossibility of handing it up to the officer, put it back again.
"I am Henry Vayne, of Vayne & Paver, solicitors, Chancery Lane, London," he said in the same dignified tone.
"You had better come aboard, sir."
"Thank you, but—er—is there no other means of ascending than by this rope?"
"If you'll wait a moment, I'll let down the accommodation ladder," answered the Lieutenant.
The ladder having been lowered, the visitor, who carried a small leather handbag, mounted to the deck.
"I should be greatly obliged," said he, taking the card-case from his pocket again and presenting a card to the officer, "if you would give this to Mr. John Brighouse, and ask if I might be permitted to see him."
The Lieutenant took the card, and, turning to the bos'n who was standing near, asked him if there was any one called John Brighouse on board.
"No one as I knows of, sir," answered the bos'n.
"I'm afraid you have made a mistake, sir," said the Lieutenant, but at that moment Calamity appeared on deck, and, catching sight of the visitor, hurried towards him.
"Vayne, by all that's wonderful!" he exclaimed.
The solicitor stared at him in a puzzled fashion for a moment, and then his eyes lit up with a flash of recognition.
"Bless my soul, John, I shouldn't have known you!" he exclaimed as they shook hands.
"Fifteen years make a great difference, eh?"
"Fourteen years, ten months and nine days," corrected the lawyer. "I am always most exact on the subject of dates. The last time we met was in my office, and the circumstances were—er—somewhat painful."
"Yes," answered the Captain, "they were. Still, Vayne, you behaved like a brick; you were the only person who believed in me."
"Pah! Nonsense!" exclaimed the other. "But you've altered," he went on, "altered most remarkably."
"Yes," said Calamity grimly, "I have altered, as you say. Strange you should turn up at this juncture, because I'm in trouble once more."
"Dear me, dear me," murmured the lawyer in a tone of concern.
"Yes, I've been arrested on a charge of piracy, if I'm not mistaken."
"Pi——" began the other, and then, stopping short on the first syllable, hastily adjusted a pair of pinc-nez on his nose and regarded the Captain through them. "Piracy, did you say?" he went on.
"Yes, that's my latest crime. Last time we met it was forgery."
"Tut, tut," said the lawyer in a peevish tone, "you mustn't put it like that. But, my dear John, piracy! Surely you are joking?"
"Ask that gentleman," answered Calamity, indicating the Lieutenant, who had moved a little distance away.
"But you will disprove the charge?"
"Yes, I have a pretty good defence, I fancy."
"You will, of course, place it in my hands?"
"Since you've arrived at such an opportune moment, Vayne, it would be an insult to the gods not to do so."
"Good," answered the lawyer. "But that reminds me. You haven't asked why I'm here. It's some distance from Chancery Lane, eh?"
"Oh, I know why you're here," replied Calamity, "and for that reason we can discuss your errand later on. This piracy charge is a more pressing matter, and the sooner I place you in possession of the facts, the better. I will ask the Lieutenant if he can let us have half an hour alone together before I'm taken ashore."
The officer readily consented, and Calamity, accompanied by the lawyer, went to his cabin. There they remained in close conference until a seaman knocked at the door and informed the Captain that the Lieutenant was waiting for him. Then, under an escort of bluejackets, Captain Calamity was taken ashore.
A couple of hours later Calamity, with the Lieutenant and Mr. Vayne—the latter having been permitted to accompany them in his character of solicitor to the accused—was ushered into a spacious room where several men sat round a large table, at the head of which was a bronzed, hard-featured man in naval uniform, evidently the president.
"You are John Brighouse, otherwise known as Captain Calamity, I believe?" said the latter, addressing the prisoner.
"That is correct," answered the Captain.
"Briefly, the charge against you is that you did wilfully and feloniously seize in this harbour a steamer called theArrow, belonging to Jacob Rossenbaum of Johore, and did detain and use the same with criminal intent. Are you guilty or not guilty?"
"Not guilty."
Mr. Rossenbaum having been called upon to give evidence, stated that, having contracted with Isaac Solomon of Singapore for the repair of his, witness's ship, theArrow, the latter was sent round to Mr. Solomon's shipyard. Witness had every reason to believe that the repairs were carried out, for he received a wire from Mr. Solomon telling him to send a crew to take over theArrow, which had then left the yard and was lying in Singapore harbour. He had duly despatched a crew, but, on the following morning, received another wire from Mr. Solomon asking him to come to Singapore at once. On arrival, he learnt that his vessel had been boarded and taken out of the harbour under her own steam by a person known as Captain Calamity.
The president then called upon Isaac Solomon. The latter, who had carefully abstained from looking at Calamity, took his stand as far from him as he possibly could.
"According to the statement previously laid before us," said the president, "you undertook to repair the steamer,Arrow, belonging to Mr. Rossenbaum. The repairs having been duly executed, the steamer was anchored in the harbour to await a crew which you had wired Mr. Rossenbaum to send?"
"That is so," answered the witness.
"But while the steamer was waiting for this crew, she disappeared mysteriously?"
"Yes."
"And you have reason to believe that the accused committed the offence?"
"I can prove it," said Mr. Solomon eagerly, but still carefully avoiding the Captain's eye.
"That will do," said the president, and Mr. Solomon, with a grin of triumph on his face, was about to retire, when the solicitor rose from his chair.
"With your permission, sir," he said, addressing the president, "I should like to ask this witness a question."
"Proceed then."
"Was there anything in the nature of a partnership existing between yourself and the accused?" asked the solicitor.
"Most emphatically not!" exclaimed the witness. "I have never had any dealings vith the man. He showed me a paper vich purported to be a privateer's licence, but in my opinion it vas a forgery."
"That was all I wanted to know," said Mr. Vayne, and sat down.
The next witness was Tilak Sumbowa, Solomon's water-clerk, who, in answer to the president, proceeded to give a long and detailed account of how, on the very day that theArrowdisappeared, his employer, Mr. Solomon, had instructed him to wire Mr. Rossenbaum that his steamer was awaiting a crew.
"That wire," said the witness impressively, "is in Mr. Rossenbaum's possession now. On returning to the office I found that Mr. Solomon had gone out and left a note saying that he had been called away on business, and would not be back till next morning. I still have that note. Then, having certain business to do myself, I went out of town and did not get back till the following day."
"Then neither you nor your employer were in Singapore on the night theArrowdisappeared?" suggested the president as the witness paused.
"No, sir."
Other witnesses were then called—all of them natives or half-castes—to show that Mr. Solomon was not in Singapore on the night of theArrow'sdeparture, and that he had never had any business dealings with Calamity.
"I will now call upon the accused to make his defence and examine any witnesses he thinks fit," said the president.
Mr. Vayne at once stood up, and, adjusting his pinc-nez, addressed the tribunal.
"I think it only right to inform the court that my client is not quite the nameless adventurer the prosecutor would have you believe," he said in a loud, sonorous voice. "It is true that he is known in these parts as Captain Calamity, and it is equally true that his name is John Brighouse. But he is also Viscount Redhurst of Redhurst—a fact which I mention, gentlemen, because I assume that, when we come to deal with conflicting statements, you will grant that the word of an English peer is at least equal to that of a semi-Asiatic ship-chandler."
Mr. Vayne paused for a moment or two after thisdénouement, in order to let the full significance of his statement sink into the minds of his opponents. He had taken their measure pretty accurately, and calculated upon the effect which his words would produce.
"With the permission of the court," he went on, "I will recall the prosecutor and put a few questions to him."
At a gesture from the president, Mr. Solomon stepped forward. The air of conscious rectitude which had distinguished him when giving evidence against Calamity was not now so apparent.
"I understand," said the lawyer, focussing his pinc-nez upon the ship-chandler, "that it was you, and not Rossenbaum, who informed the authorities that my client had illegally appropriated the steamer,Arrow?"
"Yes," replied the witness.
"How soon, after you had discovered that theArrowwas missing, did you inform the authorities of the fact?"
"About three veeks," answered the witness reluctantly.
"You mean that three weeks elapsed before the authorities were made aware of what had taken place?"
"Yes."
"Then do you wish the court to believe that if a man stole your watch and chain, or broke into your office, you would wait three weeks before informing the police?"
"That vould be a different thing."
"I believe you. Now," added the lawyer with sudden vehemence, "I put it to you, sir, that your reason for waiting such a long time was that the accused might get safely away before the authorities had a chance to capture him."
"It vas not!" cried Mr. Solomon hotly. "Vy should I not wish him to be captured?"
The lawyer placed both hands on the back of his chair and leaned forward.
"Because," he said in a denunciatory tone, "you were the accused's partner; because, having partly financed his scheme, you wanted to reap all the profits by swindling your partner out of his share. I maintain," he went on, waving aside an interruption that Mr. Solomon was about to make, "that your object was to let my client capture what prizes he could, and then, by contriving his arrest, seize for yourself all the proceeds of the expedition, together with any money that might accrue from the Government."
"It is a lie, a vicked lie!" the witness almost shrieked.
"I will go even further," pursued the lawyer, ignoring Mr. Solomon's indignant protest. "I will assert that the whole thing was a plot, engineered by you as soon as my client had laid his plans before you. With or without the connivance of Mr. Rossenbaum, theArrowwas brought round to Singapore, coaled, provisioned, and armed by you, and, after you had caused the nameHawkto be substituted forArrow, was handed over to my client with the understanding that it was your ship."
Mr. Solomon attempted to make a reply, but was so overcome with indignation, anger, and other emotions that he could only utter inarticulate sounds.
"I should like to recall the witness, Tilak Sumbowa," went on Mr. Vayne, and the ship-chandler sat down, biting his nails with rage.
The water-clerk came forward looking very nervous.
"I gathered from your evidence that neither you nor Mr. Solomon were in Singapore on the night theArrow, or, as she was then called, theHawk, left," said Mr. Vayne.
"No; Mr. Solomon left me a note at mid-day saying he was called away on business. I have it here," and the witness triumphantly produced an envelope from his pocket.
"Let me see it."
Sumbowa passed the note to the lawyer, who scrutinised the envelope critically.
"This envelope is addressed to Mr. Solomon," he said.
"Yes. The note was lying on his desk without an envelope, so I picked one out of the waste-paper basket and put the note in it."
"And this is the identical envelope which you picked up out of the waste-paper basket?"
"Yes."
"At the time you found the note?"
"Directly I had finished reading it."
"All of which circumstance took place a few hours before theHawkleft Singapore and during the time that Mr. Solomon was out of town?"
"Yes."
"Then," said the lawyer quietly, "how do you account for the fact that this envelope bears on it a postmark dated a week after theArrow'sdeparture?"
There was a dead silence. The witness looked from one to the other with an almost pitiful expression of bewilderment.
"Well," said the lawyer after a long pause, "what explanation have you to offer us? I presume you will not suggest that the postal authorities post-date letters?"
"I—I must have made a mistake," faltered the unhappy Sumbowa. "Now I come to think of it, I didn't put the note into the envelope till some days afterwards."
"Oh yes, you've made a mistake," commented the lawyer drily, "but not exactly in the way you would have us believe. However, we will let that pass for the moment. Were you in the office yourself on the night that theArrowleft?"
"No."
"What time did Mr. Solomon arrive at the office on the following morning?"
"I don't know."
"Don't you go to the office in the mornings, then?"
"Oh yes, I went to the office at eight o'clock as usual, but Mr. Solomon was not there. I waited about for a little while and then went away. When I came back at half-past ten he had returned."
"Was there anyone in the office at the time he arrived?"
"Oh no."
"How do you know?"
"It was locked up. That was why I went away."
A gleam came into the lawyer's eye as he realised, in a flash, what he had accidentally stumbled upon. Without looking, he knew that Solomon was making frantic but stealthy signs to Sumbowa, and by a kind of hypnotism he kept the little water-clerk's attention fixed upon himself. It would never do to let the half-caste guess what a mess he was getting his employer into. Mr. Vayne's next question, therefore, was purposely casual.
"You, yourself, had no key to the office then?"
"Oh no."
"Mr. Solomon had the only one?"
"Yes."
"Then do you suggest that he went away and left the office unlocked, because, if not, how did you get in and find the note? And if it was unlocked when you went in, how came it to be locked when you returned in the morning, you having no key and Mr. Solomon not having arrived?"
The witness looked bewildered for a moment and then, catching sight of Mr. Solomon's face, seemed to crumple up.
"Come, answer my question," rapped out the other.
"He—he must have come back to the office after I found the note," whimpered Sumbowa.
"You have simply been telling the court a tissue of lies from beginning to end," thundered the lawyer. "You have contradicted yourself so many times that you can't remember what you have said. Now let me tell you this, my man: unless you are prepared to confess the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, you will find yourself in the dock on a charge of perjury and with the moral certainty of being sentenced to a long term of imprisonment with hard labour. Now, answer me; did you receive that note before or after the departure of theHawk?"
"Af-after," sobbed the witness.
"How long after?"
"About a fortnight."
"Do you know why Mr. Solomon gave you that note?"
"No."
"But he told you to swear that you found it in his office on the day in question?"
"Yes."
"You knew that it was he who provided the vessel with guns and ammunition, and also caused the nameHawkto be substituted for that ofArrow?"
Sumbowa hesitated for the fraction of a minute.
"Well?" rapped out the lawyer.
"Er—yes."
"Thank you; that will do."
The witness tottered back to his seat and almost collapsed in it. Never had he passed through such an ordeal before, and, for the time being, he was a nervous wreck.
Mr. Vayne turned to the tribunal.
"I shall not waste your time, gentlemen," he said, "by calling witnesses for the defence—as, for instance, my client's chief officer, who was with him when he visited the prosecutor on the night of sailing—or by arguing a matter which I regard as proven. All I shall do is to draw from the evidence conclusions which, beyond a doubt, prove my client's innocence of the charge brought against him. After having treated us to a series of palpable falsehoods at the instigation of his employer, the witness Sumbowa has admitted that Solomon did not give him the note saying that he would be out of town until a fortnight after theArrow'sdeparture and the inference is that Solomondidsee my client on that particular night. Had he not done so, why should he have tried to establish an alibi; why should he have taken such pains to try and prove that he was not in Singapore that night?
"Further, I contend that these deductions are confirmed by the fact that Solomon, on his own admission, did not make known the alleged offence until three weeks after the steamer had left. I put it to you, gentlemen, as men of the world, that this was an extraordinary procedure, and can only be accounted for by the assumption that the prosecutor did not want his victim to be arrested before the latter had secured what, for want of a better term, I shall call a generous profit on the initial outlay.
"In short, I submit that Solomon entered into a conspiracy with divers persons to bring about the ruination of my client in order that he, the prosecutor, might reap the entire benefits of this privateering expedition.
"And now a word concerning the allegation that my client possessed forged Letters of Marque. I don't think it necessary to prove or disprove this charge, seeing that, under the circumstances, Letters of Marque were quite unnecessary. Any British ship, or any ship belonging to an allied Power, has the right to attack and destroy an enemy vessel, a statement which is borne out by the fact that the British Government offered rewards to any merchant captain who could prove that he had sunk, captured, or destroyed an enemy submarine. This, gentlemen, is all I have to say."
After a few minutes' whispered consultation with his colleagues, the president turned towards Calamity.
"We are unanimously of opinion that the charge brought against you is without the smallest foundation, and that you have been the victim of a malicious conspiracy," he said. "You are, therefore, acquitted. As to the prosecutor and his witnesses, they will be dealt with in due course upon charges arising out of this case."
As the president ceased speaking, Calamity rose and, drawing some papers from his pocket, handed them to him. They were the forged clearance papers and the secret instructions from a German source, addressed to Mr. Solomon, which he had taken from theAnn.
The president hastily glanced through them, asked Calamity a few questions in a low voice, and then touched a little bell at his side. A sergeant of marines entered in answer to the ring and stood at attention.
"Arrest that man and see that he is well guarded," said the president, indicating the ship-chandler.
With the sergeant's vice-like grip upon his arm, Mr. Isaac Solomon was dragged protesting from the room and so vanished for ever from the ken of friends and enemies alike.
Although the trial had been held in camera, the news of Calamity's arrest and acquittal soon became known throughout Singapore, though there were at least half a dozen different versions of the affair. And, as might have been anticipated, various inaccurate accounts of his adventures as a privateer were put into circulation by his crew, with the result that, before many hours had passed, he was looked upon as a hero of the most romantic type. Crowds flocked to the harbour to gaze at the two vessels, and the native boatmen did a thriving business in taking the more enthusiastic spectators round them. Wild tales were spread concerning the amount of booty which had been taken and the fabulous sums of prize-money which had been distributed among the crew. In addition to these confused exaggerations, another one soon gained currency to the effect that Calamity had been created a lord in recognition of his exploits.
As for the crew, they were having the time of their lives, being regarded as heroes by everybody save the police. They were feted both publicly and privately; interviewed, photographed, and written about, until, at the end of a week, they had become so overbearing and insolent that people grew tired of them and the police intimated that the sooner they found ships and departed the better. Most of the men, having spent all their money in a brief but glorious debauch, adopted this wise counsel, but a few, who overrated the patience of the authorities and continued to act as if the town belonged to them, were seized during a drunken orgy and locked up.
In the meantime Calamity had left Singapore and gone to Paku, a little town easily reached by train, where he was reasonably safe from newspaper men and inquisitive people generally. In order that he might do this, Mr. Vayne had undertaken to act as his representative in paying off the officers and making arrangements for them to receive their share of the prize-money in due course. On the day following the trial, the lawyer went over to Paku and found Calamity seated on the verandah of the house where he was staying, clad in white ducks and smoking a very strong cigar.
"By the way, have you seen anything of Miss Fletcher?" asked the Captain after they had been talking for some time.
"No, but I heard of her at the Consulate this morning. She had been to see the Consul concerning certain private matters and will be leaving for Yokohama in a P. and O. boat to-morrow. I gathered that from Yokohama she will sail for San Francisco."
"H'm," grunted Calamity, but made no comment.
"And she left this for you," went on the lawyer, and, taking a letter from his pocket, he handed it to Calamity who glanced at the superscription and put it aside.
"Thanks very much, Vayne, I'm afraid I'm giving you a lot of trouble."
"Not at all, not at all! But if you would just go into these matters now, I should be greatly obliged," and the lawyer opened the little leather handbag he had brought with him.
"Everything," he went on, taking out some documents, "is perfectly straightforward and simple. By your elder brother's death you inherit the title and estates, while, of course, his own private property, investments, and so forth, go to his wife and child——"
"Child?" interrupted Calamity. "Did George have a child, then?"
"Yes, a little girl. She'd be about twelve now."
"And Lady Betty, I suppose, is still at the Towers?"
"Yes."
Calamity's lips tightened and his brows met in a frown. The lawyer regarded him for a moment, and then, leaning forward, touched him gently on the knee.
"You're thinking of that wretched business of the alleged forgery," he said. "You may safely regard it as forgotten now; at least, no one is ever likely to refer to it in any way unless——" Vayne hesitated and smiled.
"Unless what?"
"Unless you go in for politics."
Calamity laughed in spite of himself.
"You may safely dismiss that possibility from your mind," he said. "But, as it happens, I'm going to reopen the matter myself."
"Eh?" ejaculated Vayne.
"You remember the story, don't you? A cheque for five thousand pounds was forged in my father's name, and, by a series of artificially prepared 'clues,' it was traced to me. The belief that I was the culprit was strengthened by the fact that I had been playing the fool pretty generally and was head over ears in debt at the time. Well, what you don't know is, that my brother forged the cheque in such a way that I should be suspected. He had been trying to poison the old man's mind against me for a long time and——"
"Was it on account of a woman?" interrupted the lawyer shrewdly.
"Yes; I see you understand. We were both madly in love with the same woman, and—well, my brother held the strong suit. But to continue: the guv'nor accused me outright of forging his signature, and I, being too proud to deny such a vile charge, especially coming from him, was branded as a promising young criminal by the entire family. The guv'nor offered me a sum of money to clear out, which bribe I refused, though I cleared out all the same."
"And you released Lady Betty from her engagement?" murmured Vayne as the Captain paused.
The latter winced and went on hurriedly:
"The night before I left I was sitting at the window of an unlighted room, thinking—God knows what I was thinking, it doesn't matter now—when I heard voices in the shrubbery and recognised them as belonging to my brother and his German valet. Hearing my own name, I leant out of the window and listened; I felt no shame about it, for I guessed the part George had played in my affairs. And, anyway, I wasn't caring much about the conventions just then. There's no need to repeat what I heard, but my suspicions were confirmed, and when the pair moved out of the shrubbery I knew for certain that, between them, they had engineered my ruin. To put the matter in a nutshell, my brother had forged the cheque, having previously arranged matters so that suspicion should fall on me.
"My first thought was to rush to the old man at once and tell him what I had discovered. But a moment's reflection convinced me that I hadn't an atom of tangible proof, that the whole thing would rest on my word, which, under the circumstances, I could hardly expect anyone to accept. No, there was nothing for it but to acquiesce in the inevitable and go—which I did."
"Yes," said Vayne thoughtfully, "you came up to my office one morning early. There was a look in your face that I shan't forget as long as I live. It has often puzzled me since why you came to me."
"I don't quite know, myself," answered Calamity. "But you had always been pretty decent to me, Vayne, and when I was acting the fool at Oxford, you befriended me more than once. Why a staid and eminently respectable family lawyer like yourself should lend a helping hand to a scatter-brained idiot I don't know; but you did, and there it is."
"As to that, my dear John, your family have been clients of my firm for generations," said the lawyer almost apologetically.
Calamity laughed.
"I'm afraid that's a very weak defence, Vayne, not to say irrelevant. However, we'll let it pass. You lent me the money to get out of the country and—well, you know the rest."
"I know as much as you told me in one scanty letter a year," answered the lawyer drily. "I don't believe you would even have written me to that extent had I not extracted the promise from you before you left my office."
"I'm afraid you wouldn't have been very edified had I given you a full and particular account of my adventures. I served three years before the mast, got my mate's ticket, and after that a master's ticket. I've sailed in whalers, colliers, cattle-boats, liners, tramps, blackbirders, and God knows what sort of craft. I've dug for gold in Alaska, been a transport rider in South Africa, skippered a pearling-ground poacher in Japanese waters, run guns in the Persian Gulf, and—well, ended up by becoming a privateer. Also, I nearly pegged out once with malaria, and, as you see, I lost an eye."
The lawyer nodded.
"Your father, as I informed you in one of my yearly letters, died in the belief that you were dead, and so did your brother," he said. "Seeing that they are both gone, I suggest that you do not attempt to reopen the matter of the forged cheque. As you have said, you can prove nothing, and——"
"But I can now," interrupted Calamity, with almost savage energy. "Look at this."
He took a wallet out of his pocket and extracted from it the document that Fritz Siemann had drawn up and signed and which Smith and McPhulach had witnessed.
"There," he said, handing it to the lawyer.
The latter took the document, adjusted his pinc-nez, and carefully read it through twice.
"That clears you once and for all," he remarked as he handed it back.
"It does, and I'm going to use it."
"My dear fellow!" exclaimed the lawyer in a tone almost approaching horror.
"Oh, I don't mean that I propose publishing it in the newspapers. But all those who knew me and believed in my guilt at the time shall see it."
"But whatever wrong your brother may have done you, he is dead now, and it would hardly be—er—good form to dishonour his memory.De mortuis nil nisi bonum."
"Damn his memory!" flashed out Calamity. "I beg your pardon, Vayne," he went on in a quieter tone, noticing the other's shocked expression, "but I don't see why a live man should suffer in order to shield a dead man's reputation. He made me suffer while I was alive, and it is a very poor revenge, albeit the only one at my disposal, to charge him with his crime now he's dead. I for one won't bow down to the shibboleth of honouring the dead just because they are dead; I hate my brother as much now as ever I did, and the mere fact that he's no longer able to enjoy the fruits of his rascality makes no difference to that."
"As you will, John; it's a matter for you to decide, not me."
The lawyer rose from his chair and slowly fastened his little leather bag.
"By the way," he said a little hesitatingly, "have—er—have Letters of Marque been revived since the war started?"
"'Pon my word, Vayne, I don't know," answered Calamity.
"Then you——"
"Oh, as usual, I took risks."
"H'm," grunted the lawyer, and added, after a pause, "when will you be ready to sail?"
"A fortnight or three weeks from now. I want to make sure that all my officers receive their proper share of the profits."
"Very well. I shall see you to-morrow, I suppose?"
"Yes, I shall be here," answered Calamity, shaking hands.
The lawyer had scarcely gone when a native servant entered and stated that a gentleman had called to see Captain Calamity.
"What is his name?"
"Abott, master."
"Then show him up."
The pilot was duly ushered in, and, as soon as the servant had departed, he congratulated Calamity on having been acquitted of the charge which Solomon had brought against him.
"Thanks," answered Calamity. "I told you I had something in store for the old rascal."
"Then it's true he's been arrested?"
"Yes; I don't think you're likely to gaze on his benevolent smile again, Abott."
"Then there's a story going round that you're a lord or a dook or something of that sort."
"Don't take any notice of it," answered Calamity; "you'll hear a good deal worse than that when rumour's got well under way. And now to business."
"The stuff's down at my old shack, and, as it'll be dark in a few minutes, I thought we might as well toddle over there."
Calamity agreed, and, leaving the house, they proceeded at a rapid walk till the outskirts of the village were reached. By this time it was dark, and Abott, taking an electric torch from his pocket, led the way along a narrow foot-track till they reached the sea-shore.
"Here we are," he said, throwing a gleam of light on a tumble-down hut about fifty yards from the water's edge. "I'll go first."
He unlocked the door, a crazy affair that a good push would have brought down completely, and led the way in. With the aid of the torch he found an old lantern with a piece of candle in it, and, after lighting this, set it on an upturned barrel.
"There we are," he remarked; "'tain't much of a light, but it'll do to talk by."
In the yellow glimmer it was just possible to make out a number of cases and sacks piled in a corner with lumber of various sorts, such as empty water-beakers, odd spars, rusty anchors, and so forth.
"Looks as if it were worth about half a dollar the lot, doesn't it, instead of somewheres around two hundred and fifty thousand dollars?" remarked the pilot as he seated himself on a water-beaker. "And to think," he went on musingly, "that I pull fifty thousand out of it. What for?"
"For playing the game," answered Calamity gravely, and, taking a handful of cheroots from his pocket, he offered them to the other.
Abott took one, opened the door of the lantern, and they both lit up.
"Now," said the pilot, exhaling huge clouds of pungent smoke, "we'd better fix matters up. This isn't the sort of stuff you can tuck under your arm, walk into a bank with, and ask for it to be placed to the credit of your account. No, sir, questions might be asked, seeing that bar gold and promiscuous jewellery ain't common currency even in this country. And, I take it, if the Admiralty knew about it, they'd want to confiscate a tidy lump as treasure trove, or whatever it's called."
Calamity nodded.
"Well, I know a man in Sumatra who'll negotiate this little lot, though he'll charge 5 per cent. for doing it. How does that strike you?"
"Excellent. Will you see to it, Abott?"
"I will, and you shall hear directly the job's through. I reckon you'll have done the right thing by everybody; the Government's got a new island, a German war-boat, thirty or forty prisoners, and about a thousand pounds' worth of merchandise stacked away on board theHawk."
"Likewise a traitor in the person of the late respected Solomon, and a ship called theAnn," added Calamity.
"TheAnn?" queried the other. "I heard of a packet named theAnnhaving been collared by a British cruiser and taken into Penang; would that be the hooker?"
"Without a doubt, but I haven't time to tell you the story now, Abott. If ever you happen to meet Solomon—which isn't likely—ask him about it."
The pilot rose, kicked aside the beaker on which he had been sitting, and picked up the lantern. Calamity also got up, and, going outside, waited while the other extinguished the light and locked the door. They returned to Paku and stopped outside the house where Calamity lodged, the pilot having refused to go in as he wanted to get back to Singapore as quickly as possible.
"I shall see you again before I leave," said Calamity as they shook hands.
On reaching his own room, he took from his pocket the letter which Vayne had given him earlier in the day. It was addressed to "Captain Calamity" in a large, bold handwriting. Tearing open the envelope Calamity took out a sheet of notepaper and read:
"This is to say 'Good-bye' and to explain why, when you asked me to marry you, I refused. During your illness I chanced to learn who you really were, and then I realised why it was that you once said to me 'Our paths lie wide apart.' As the wife of Captain Calamity I might have made you happy, but as the wife of Viscount Redhurst I believe I should fail utterly and bring unhappiness to us both. I am going to California as you suggested, where, should you ever have a desire to see me again, I shall be found."
"This is to say 'Good-bye' and to explain why, when you asked me to marry you, I refused. During your illness I chanced to learn who you really were, and then I realised why it was that you once said to me 'Our paths lie wide apart.' As the wife of Captain Calamity I might have made you happy, but as the wife of Viscount Redhurst I believe I should fail utterly and bring unhappiness to us both. I am going to California as you suggested, where, should you ever have a desire to see me again, I shall be found."
The note was signed "Dora Fletcher," and Calamity, before folding it up, read the last sentence twice—the second time with a faint smile playing about his lips. Then he took out his leather wallet which contained the confession of Fritz Siemann and placed the note in it.
It was spring, and although spring that year had not done its worst, the two men who alighted from the train at Redhurst Station turned up the collars of their greatcoats and shivered. One of them, a powerful, squarely built man with a glass eye, gazed round the little country station as if in search of someone, and at last fixed his serviceable eye upon a richly dressed woman in a motor just outside the wicket-gate. He thereupon turned to his companion, a red-headed man who was arguing in broad Scotch with a porter over the alleged damage done to a very old and dilapidated cabin trunk.
"Tell them the luggage must be sent on at once, Jones," he said.
Leaving McPhulach,aliasJones, to see that his instructions were carried out, Calamity passed through the wicket-gate. As he approached her, the woman leaned out of the tonneau expectantly; but at that moment the sun emerged from an obscuring cloud and shone right into her eyes. By the time she had opened her sunshade and could see again Calamity had reached the car. The words of honeyed welcome died on her lips and she shrank back against the cushions as she saw him standing there with a grim smile on his face.
"Well, Betty?" he said.
"Is—is it you?" she faltered.
"Yes, you find me changed, eh?"
"A—a little," she answered.
The flicker of a smile crossed Calamity's face again as he looked at her.
"You are the same as ever, anyhow," he commented.
His words restored Lady Betty's self-possession. His altered appearance had frightened her at first, and she had not recognised in him the man she had once promised to marry. But now he had spoken in a familiar language words which showed, as she thought, that, despite the years, her charms had not lessened in his eyes.
"I am so glad you have come back," she said softly.
At that moment, to her annoyance, McPhulach came up accompanied by a porter.
"He says it will be ane an' saxpence to tak' the luggage," said the engineer indignantly.
"Pay him then," answered Calamity.
"But, mon, 'tis only a sheeling, forby——"
"Pay him," snapped Calamity, and McPhulach grumblingly paid the money in pennies and half-pennies, counting them twice before handing them over.
"Won't you get in?" asked Lady Betty, as Calamity again turned to her.
He obeyed, at the same time calling to McPhulach, who was watching the luggage being hoisted on to the station 'bus. As he approached—an uncouth figure in an ill-fitting, ready-made overcoat—Lady Betty elevated her eyebrows.
"Who is this?" she whispered quickly.
"Let me introduce him," answered the Captain.
"Lady Betty Redhurst, Mr. Jones, until recently my chief engineer. Jones, Lady Betty Redhurst."
"I'm unco' pleased tae meet ye," said McPhulach, extending a huge red hand with its blunt, misshapen fingers. "I'm frae Pontypreed mesel'," he added inconsequently.
The elegant woman touched the engineer's hairy paw with the tips of her gloved fingers and smiled sweetly.
"Better sit down there," said Calamity, indicating the seat opposite, but Lady Betty spoke hastily.
"Wouldn't you prefer to sit in front, Mr. Jones?" she asked, with seeming solicitude for his comfort; "you can see the country much better there, and it's really very pretty just now."
McPhulach, only too glad of a chance to sit beside the chauffeur, where he might smoke, obeyed with alacrity, and the Captain had to own himself out-manoeuvred. The chauffeur then took his seat, and the car glided noiselessly out of the station precincts.
"Does it seem strange to you to be coming home again?" asked Lady Betty in a voice which sounded almost caressing.
"It does—very," answered Calamity.
His tone puzzled her, and she went on, curious, perhaps, to probe his real feelings.
"You are glad?"
"Glad? I should never have returned but for one thing—the memories of the place are too unpleasant."
A faint and delicate tinge of colour came into the woman's face, for she did not doubt that he was thinking of her and the shattered romance of the past. It moved her to think that, after all these years, this memory was still fresh with him.
"Why darken your home-coming by thoughts of the unalterable past?" she answered softly. "It is all forgotten and forgiven now."
"It is not forgotten, neither is it forgiven—I am not that sort."
A deeper colour flooded her face. He considered himself wronged, then, that she had believed in his guilt and married his brother. At that moment she wished passionately to justify herself in his eyes, for this stranger who had been her lover was beginning to exercise an ascendancy over her weaker nature that he had never possessed in the old days.
She was about to stammer out words of excuse and apology, when McPhulach turned round and leaned over the wind-screen.
"Hae ye such a thing as a match aboot ye, skeeper?" he inquired.
Calamity tossed him a box of matches, whereupon McPhulach produced a well-worn briar from his pocket and transferred it to his mouth.
"You must try and forget all that old story of the cheque," said Lady Betty recovering herself. "It is so long ago that everyone is prepared to be as nice to you as if it had never happened."
"H'm," grunted Calamity.
"You'll see," she went on hopefully. "I've got some people staying at the Towers, and Judge Pennyfeather—Lady Di——you remember her as a pert young flapper, I expect—the Bishop and some other people are dining with us to-night."
"Then the story of the forgery was not kept in the family," remarked Calamity icily. "All these people know it?"
"Well—yes," a little hesitatingly. "It was impossible to keep it secret; you know George had a valet——"
"A fitting epitaph," said Calamity grimly.
"What——" began Lady Betty, but was interrupted once more by McPhulach, who for some moments had been pulling at an empty pipe.
"I'm oot o' baccy," he said, again peering over the wind-screen. "Ye'll no be haein' a pooch on ye'r pairson, skeeper?"
Without a word Calamity passed him a tobacco pouch, while Lady Betty bit her lips with annoyance at this interruption of theirtête-à-tête.
"I'm tell't that yon's ye'r ain hoose," said McPhulach, as he filled his pipe. "It's a gey braw place, an' I wouldna mind haein' it mesel'."
He pointed with the stem of his pipe to a picturesque old mansion standing in its own luxuriously wooded grounds at the summit of a slope just ahead.
Calamity made no answer, but gazed thoughtfully at this home of his childhood, the home he had never expected to see again. And thinking of his early days there, and of the soft and sheltered lives of those who live in such mansions, it seemed very desirable to the world-worn, battered man. All sorts of trivial incidents of the past, forgotten until now, flashed across his mind as the car turned into a road that ran through a wood on the estate. In that wood, as a boy, he had seen an adder swallow a young bird and remembered killing the reptile with a heavy ash stick. In that piece of marshy ground, almost hidden by trees, there used to be a pond fringed with yellow iris; he wondered if that pond were still there, and the iris.... He made a resolution to go and see later on, but, even as he did so, knew that he would find it the same. Everything remained the same; Betty was the same; it was only he who had altered.
Then his mood changed, and, while he felt a grim satisfaction at thus returning as master to the home from which he had been thrust forth as a criminal, he was not at all sure whether, apart from this sense of triumph, he was glad to be back or otherwise—probably he was neither. He wondered, too, whether the old life, with all its luxury and ease, would appeal to him; whether he would feel at home again amidst these remembered surroundings, or at variance with them.
And then, of course, there were the people whom he would have to meet; people more foreign to him now than the polyglot rabble which had formed his last crew. He had seen Lady Betty shrink from him at first sight, and imagined that her present amiability was forced; that her words and those soft, languishing glances she cast upon him were void of sincerity. Others would shrink from him too, he supposed, and then hide their feelings under a mask of well-bred composure as she was doing. Could he meet these people on their own ground, speak their language, lead their life? he asked himself.
Seeing Calamity deep in thought, McPhulach, who had leaned over the wind-screen to return the tobacco-pouch, slid gently back into his seat and absent-mindedly dropped the pouch into his own pocket.
The car was now proceeding up a broad avenue which led to the main entrance of the Towers, and a vision came to Calamity of himself as a small boy on horseback, cantering down this same avenue with his father. The thought of the latter brought back to his memory the brother who had blackened him in his father's eyes and made him what he had been; what, in heart, he still was—an outcast and an exile.
Never had he hated his brother as he hated him at this moment.
Lady Betty, meanwhile, was taking advantage of his thoughtfulness to examine his profile at her leisure. It was a strong face, she reflected, stronger and harder far than that of the youth she had loved fifteen years ago.
"A penny for your thoughts," she said lightly, to dissipate an emotion induced by his proximity and those memories of their youth.
He turned swiftly, and the baffling, rather grim smile which played about his mouth, together with the fixed and merciless stare of his glass eye, embarrassed her to the point of actual nervousness.
"You shall have them at your own price when I put them up for sale," he answered.
She coloured. Her first thought was that he intended to snub her, but she quickly dismissed the idea. No, he must have meant that the moment was not propitious. Perhaps he, also, had been thinking of....
"You never married in all those years?" she asked abruptly, and with a little tremor in her voice that she could not control.
"No."
"Why?"
He smiled at her in a quizzical way and shrugged his shoulders.
"Ah, here we are," he said as the car drew up before the stately entrance to Redhurst Towers. Springing out, he made his way round to the other side in order to help her to alight. McPhulach, however, was before him and stood with his arm crooked at an angle of forty-five degrees, his body bent, and an ingratiating leer on his face.