CHAPTER XIV
I Prove a Bad Sentinel
I watched him with a kind of fascination until he disappeared throughthe door of the cabin. I could guess what it had cost him to draghimself from his bed, what agony of apprehension must have been uponhim to make him take the risk. The Jourdains, puzzled at my notreturning, unable to keep silence, suspecting, perhaps, some plotagainst themselves, had doubtless gone to the hospital and told him ofmy appearance--there had been no way for me to guard against that. Hehad easily guessed the rest. He had only to consult the passenger listto assure himself that Mr. Royce and I were aboard. And he wasfollowing us, hoping--what? What could a man in his condition hope toaccomplish? What need was there for us to fear him? And yet, there wassomething about him--something in the atmosphere of the man--thatalmost terrified me.
I came back to earth to find that Royce and Mrs. Kemball had driftedaway together, and that my companion was regarding me from underhalf-closed lids with a little smile of amusement.
"So you're awake again, Mr. Lester?" she asked. "Do you often sufferattacks of that sort?"
"Pardon me," I stammered. "The fact is, I--I----"
"You looked quite dismayed," she continued relentlessly. "You seemedpositively horror-stricken. I saw nothing formidable about him."
"No; you don't know him!" I retorted, and stopped, lest I should saytoo much.
She was smiling broadly, now; an adorable smile that wrinkled up thecorners of her eyes, and gave me a glimpse of little white teeth.
"I think we'd better sit down," she said.
"Your knees seem to be still somewhat shaky. Mother and Mr. Royce havedeserted us."
So we sought a seat near the stern, where we could watch the city sinkgradually away in the distance, as the great boat glided smoothly outinto the bay, her engines starting on the rhythm which was to continueceaselessly until the voyage ended. I confess frankly I was worried. Ihad not thought for a moment that Martigny would have the temerity toboard the same boat with us--yet it was not so wonderful after all,since he could not guess that I suspected him, that I knew him andBethune to be the same person. That was my great advantage. In anyevent, we were in no danger from him; he was probably following usonly that he might warn his confederates, should we seem likely todiscover them. Certainly they were in no present danger of discovery,and perhaps might never be. But his following us, his disregard of thegrave danger to himself, gave me a new measure of his savagedetermination to baffle us; I found myself more and more beginning tofear him. My fancy cast about him a sinister cloud, from the depths ofwhich he peered out at us, grim, livid, threatening.
Should I inform Mr. Royce of this new development? I asked myself;then I remembered the doctor's words. He must have rest and quietduring the coming week; he must be free from worry.
"I trust that I'm not in the way, Mr. Lester?" inquired a low,provoking voice at my side, and I awoke to the fact that I had againbeen guilty of forgetting my companion.
"Miss Kemball," I began desperately, "let me confess that I'm in anexceedingly vexatious situation. The fact that I can't ask advicemakes it worse."
"You can't ask even Mr. Royce?" she queried, with raised brows.
"He least of all. You see, he's just recovering from a severe nervousbreakdown--he must have quiet--that's one reason he's taking thisvoyage."
"I see," she nodded.
I glanced at her again--at the open, candid eyes, the forceful mouthand chin--and I took a sudden resolution.
"Miss Kemball," I said, "I'm going to ask your help--that is, if Imay."
"Of course you may."
"Well, then, that man who came on board last is the inveterate enemyof both Mr. Royce and myself. We're trying to unearth a particularlyatrocious piece of villainy in which he's concerned. I have reason tobelieve him capable of anything, and a very fiend of cleverness. Idon't know what he may plot against us, but I'm certain he'll plotsomething. Mr. Royce doesn't even know him by sight, and shouldn't beworried; but, unless he's forewarned, he may walk right into danger. Iwant you to help me keep an eye on him--to help me keep him out ofdanger. If we look after him closely enough, I shan't need to warnhim. Will you help me?"
Her eyes were dancing as she looked up at me.
"Why, certainly!" she cried. "So we're to have a mystery--just wetwo!"
"Just we two!" I assented with a quickened pulse.
She looked at me doubtfully for a moment.
"I must remember Mr. Graham's warning," she said. "You haven'tinvented this astonishing story just to entertain me, Mr. Lester?"
"On my word, no," I responded, a little bitterly. "I only wish I had!"
"There," she said contritely; "I shouldn't have doubted! Forgive me,Mr. Lester. Only it seemed so fantastic--so improbable----"
"It _is_ fantastic," I assented, "but, unfortunately, it is true. Wemust keep an eye on Monsieur Martigny or Bethune."
"Which is his real name?"
"Those are the only ones I know, but I doubt if either is the trueone."
Royce and Mrs. Kemball joined us a moment later, and we sat watchingthe low, distant Long Island shore until the gong summoned us tolunch. A word to the steward had secured us one of the small tables inan alcove at the side--Mrs. Kemball and her daughter surrendered thegrandeurs of the captain's table willingly, even gladly, to ministerto us--and the meal was a merry one, Mr. Royce seeming in such spiritsthat I was more than ever determined not to disturb him with theknowledge of Martigny's presence.
As the moments passed, my fears seemed more and more uncalled for. Itwas quite possible, I told myself, that I had been making a bogy of myown imaginings. The Frenchman did not appear in the saloon, and,afterwards, an inquiry of the ship's doctor developed the fact that hewas seriously ill, and quite unable to leave his state room.
So afternoon and evening passed. There were others on board whoclaimed their share of the charming Mrs. Kemball and her daughter. Mr.Royce knew a few of them, too, and introduced me to them, but I foundtheir talk somehow flat and savorless. I fancied that my companionlooked slightly wearied, too, and at last we stole away to our deckchairs, where we sat for an hour or more looking out across thedancing waves, listening to the splash of the boat as she rose andfell over them. He was thinking, no doubt, of a certain dark beauty,whose caprices there was no explaining. As for me--well, I hadsuddenly developed a sturdy preference for blue eyes.
* * * * *
I may as well confess at once that I was seasick. It came nextmorning, ten minutes after I had left my berth--not a violentsickness, but a faintness and giddiness that made me long for myberth again. But Mr. Royce would not hear of it. He got me out on deckand into my chair, with the fresh breeze blowing full in my face.There was a long line of chairs drawn up there, and from the faces ofmost of their occupants, I judged they were far more miserable than I.At the end of an hour, thanks to this treatment, I felt almost wellagain, and could devour with some appetite the luncheon which Mr.Royce ordered for me.
After a while the doctor came down the line and looked at each of us,stopping for a moment's chat. The more serious cases were below, andall that any of us needed was a little encouragement.
"Won't you sit down a minute, doctor?" I asked, when he came to me,and motioned to Mr. Royce's chair.
"Why, you're not sick!" he protested, laughing, but he dropped intothe vacant place.
"It wasn't about myself I wanted to talk," I said. "How's your otherpatient--the one who came aboard last?"
His face sobered in an instant.
"Martigny is his name," he said, "and he's in very bad shape. He musthave been desperately anxious to get back to France. Why, he mighthave dropped over dead there on the gang-plank."
"It's a disease of the heart?"
"Yes--far advanced. He can't get well, of course, but he may live onindefinitely, if he's careful."
"He's still confined to his bed?"
"Oh, yes--he won't leave it during the voyage, if
he takes my advice.He's got to give his heart just as little work as possible, or it'llthrow up the job altogether. He has mighty little margin to go on."
I turned the talk to other things, and in a few moments he went onalong his rounds. But I was not long alone, for I saw Miss Kemballcoming toward me, looking a very Diana, wind-blown and rosy-cheeked.
"So _mal-de-mer_ has laid its hand on you, too, Mr. Lester!" shecried.
"Only a finger," I said. "But a finger is enough. Won't you take pityon a poor landsman and talk to him?"
"But that's reversing our positions!" she protested, sitting down,nevertheless, to my great satisfaction. "It was you who were to be theentertainer! Is our Mephisto abroad yet?" she asked, in a lower tone."I, too, am feeling his fascination--I long for another glimpse ofhim."
"Mephisto is still wrestling with his heart, which, it seems, isscarcely able to furnish the blood necessary to keep him going. Thedoctor tells me that he'll probably spend the voyage abed."
"So there'll be nothing for us to do, after all! Do you know, Mr.Lester, I was longing to become a female Lecoq!"
"Perhaps you may still have the chance," I said gloomily. "I doubtvery much whether Mephisto will consent to remain inactive. Hedoesn't look to be that sort."
She clapped her hands, and nodded a laughing recognition to one of thepassing promenaders.
"You're going to Paris, aren't you, Miss Kemball?" I asked.
"To Paris--yes. You too? You must be, since you're going to France."
"We go first to Etretat," I said, and stopped, as she leaned,laughing, back in her chair. "Why, what's wrong with that?" Idemanded, in some astonishment.
"Wrong? Oh, nothing. Etretat's a most delightful place--only itrecalled to me an amusing memory of how my mother was one dayscandalized there by some actresses who were bathing. It's theprettiest little fishing-village, with the finest cliffs I ever saw.But it's hardly the season for Etretat--the actresses have not yetarrived. You'll find it dull."
"We will not stay there long," I said. "But tell me about it. Ishould like to know."
"Etretat," said my companion, "is rather a bohemian resort. AlphonseKarr discovered it somewhere back in the dark ages, and advertisedit--the Etretatians were immensely grateful, and named the main streetof the town after him--and since then a lot of artists and theatricalpeople have built villas there. It has a little beach of gravel wherepeople bathe all day long. When one's tired of bathing, there are thecliffs and the downs, and in the evening there's the casino. You knowFrench, Mr. Lester?"
"Why," I explained, "I was supposed to study it at college. I stillremember my '_j'ai, tu a, il a_.'"
"You'll remember more when you get to Etretat," she laughed. "You'llhave to, or starve."
"Oh, I also know the phrase made immortal by Mark Twain."
"'_Avez-vous du vin?_'--yes."
"And I think I also have a hazy recollection of the French equivalentsfor bread and butter and cheese and meat. We shan't starve--besides, Ithink Mr. Royce can help. He's been to France."
"Of course--and here he comes to claim his chair."
"I won't permit him to claim it if you'll use it a little longer," Iprotested.
"Oh, but I must be going," and she arose, laughing. "Have I been asatisfactory entertainer?"
"More than satisfactory; I'll accept no other."
"But you won't need any at all, after this morning--I don't reallybelieve you're ill now!"
She nodded to Royce, and moved away without waiting for my answer,which somehow halted on my lips; and so I was left to the rosiest, themost improbable of day dreams.
Saturday, Sunday, and Monday passed, with only such incidents toenliven them as are common to all voyages. But I saw that quiet andsea air were doing their work well with my companion, and that he wassteadily regaining his normal health. So I felt more and more atliberty to devote myself to Miss Kemball--in such moments as she wouldpermit me--and I found her fascination increasing in a ratio quitegeometrical. Martigny was still abed, and, so the ship's doctor toldme, was improving very slowly.
It was Tuesday evening that Mrs. Kemball and her daughter joined us onthe promenade, and weary, at last, of Strauss waltzes and Sousamarches, we sauntered away toward the bow of the boat, where the noisefrom the orchestra could reach us only in far-away snatches. We founda seat in the shadow of the wheel-house, and sat for a long timetalking of many things, watching the moonlight across the water. Atlast we arose to return, and Royce and Mrs. Kemball started on ahead,after a habit they had fallen into, which, now I think of it, I amsure was our junior's doing.
"Two more days, and we'll be at Havre," I said. "I'll be very sorry,Miss Kemball."
"Sorry? I'd never have suspected you of such a fondness for theocean!"
"Oh, it's not the ocean!" I protested, and--what with the moonlightand the soft night and the opportunity--"the time and the place andthe loved one, all together"--would have uttered I know not whatfolly, had she not sprung suddenly forward with a sharp cry of alarm.
"Mr. Royce!" she cried. "Mother!"
They stopped and turned toward her, just as a heavy spar crashed tothe deck before them.