Part 40 (1/2)

”Quite sure, sir,” answered he. ”Wait a minute, though,” he said, as the Duke dropped the list, ”there was a pa.s.senger taken ash.o.r.e at Queenstown very ill. A tall man, I should say, though they carried him. He had not registered on board, and he was so ill he gave up the pa.s.sage. I could not tell you his name.”

”Had he a light beard?” asked the Duke in great alarm.

”Um! yes; a large beard at all events. I remember how he looked as they carried him past. He was awfully pale, and his eyes were closed.”

”My G.o.d!” exclaimed the Duke; ”it must have been he! Does no one know his name?”

”The captain may. He would not see you now, just going into port, but I will go and ask him,” added the officer kindly, seeing how much distressed the other seemed to be.

”Do--thanks--please ask him--yes!” he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, and sank into a chair.

The bursar returned in a quarter of an hour.

”I am sorry to say, sir,” he said, ”that no one seems to have known his name. It sometimes happens. I am very sorry.”

The Duke saw there was nothing to be done. It was clear that Claudius was not on board; but it was by no means clear that Claudius was not lying ill, perhaps dead, in Queenstown. The poor Englishman bit his lips in despair, and was silent. He could not decide how much he ought to tell Margaret, and how much he ought to keep to himself. The sick pa.s.senger seemed to answer the description, and yet he might not have been the Doctor for all that. Tall man--pale--he would be pale anyhow if he were ill--fair beard--yes, it sounded like him.

”I wish Vick were here,” said the Duke to himself; ”she has so much sense.” Immediately the idea of consulting with his sister developed itself in his mind. ”How can I get ash.o.r.e?” he asked suddenly.

”I am afraid you will have to wait till we are in,” said the friendly officer. ”It will not be more than an hour now.”

Impelled by some faint hope that the Doctor's name might have been omitted by some accident, the Duke rose and threaded his way among the crowding pa.s.sengers, as they got their traps together and moved about the great saloons. He pursued every tall man he saw, till he could catch a glimpse of his face. At last he met a towering figure in a darkened pa.s.sage way.

”My dear Claudius!” he cried, holding out his hand. But the stranger only paused, muttered something about a ”mistake” and pa.s.sed on. The excitement grew on the Duke, as it became certain that Claudius was not on board, and never in the whole of his very high and mighty life had he been in such a state of mind. Some of the pa.s.sengers noted his uneasy movements and exchanged remarks in an undertone, as he pa.s.sed and repa.s.sed.

”He is probably crazy,” said an Englishman.

”He is probably drunk,” said an American.

”He is probably a defaulting bank cas.h.i.+er,” said a Scotchman.

”He looks very wild,” said a New York mamma.

”He looks very unhappy,” said her daughter.

”He is very well dressed,” said her son, who got his clothes half yearly from Smallpage.

But the time pa.s.sed at last, and the great thing came up to her pier, and opened her jaws and disgorged her living freight down a steep plank on to dry earth again; and the Duke, with a final look at the stream of descending pa.s.sengers, forced his way ash.o.r.e, and jumped into the first cab he saw.

”Drive to the nearest Elevated station,” he shouted.

”Which avenue?” inquired the driver with that placidity which cabmen a.s.sume whenever one is in a hurry.

”Oh, any avenue--d.a.m.n the avenue--Sixth Avenue of course!” cried the Duke in a stew.

”Very good, sir--Sixth Avenue Elevated, did you say?” and he deliberately closed the door and mounted to his box.

”What shall I tell her--what shall I say?” were the questions that repeated themselves with stunning force in his ear as he rattled through the streets, and slid over the smooth Elevated Road, swiftly towards his hotel. He had still some few hundred yards to walk from the station when he got out. His courage failed him, and he walked slowly, with bent head and heavy heart, the bearer of bad news.

Leisurely he climbed the steps, and the few stairs to his room. There stood Lady Victoria under the gaslight, by the fire, looking at the clock.