Part 11 (1/2)

Then, making some excuse, she left me and returned below.

It was well past midday before Pharos put in an appearance. Whether at sea or ash.o.r.e he made no difference in his costume. He wore the same heavy coat and curious cap that I remembered seeing that night at Cleopatra's Needle.

”I fear, my dear Forrester,” he said, ”you will think me a discourteous host for not having remained on deck last night to receive you. My age, however, must be my excuse. I trust you have been made comfortable?”

”The greatest Sybarite could scarcely desire to be more comfortable,” I answered. ”I congratulate you upon your vessel and her appointments.”

”Yes,” he answered, looking along the deck, ”she is a good little craft, and, as you may suppose, exceedingly useful to me at times.”

As he said this a curious expression came into his face. It was as if the memory of an occasion on which this vessel had carried him beyond the reach of pursuit had suddenly occurred to him. Exquisite, however, as the pleasure it afforded him seemed to be, I can not say that it pleased me as much. It revived unpleasant memories, and just at the time when I was beginning to forget my first distrust of him.

After a few moments' further conversation he expressed a desire to show me the vessel, an invitation which, needless to say, I accepted with alacrity. We first visited the smoking-room on deck, then the bridge, after that the engine-room, and later on the men's quarters forward.

Retracing our steps aft we descended to the saloon, upon the beauty of which I warmly congratulated him.

”I am rejoiced that it meets with your approval,” he said gravely. ”It is usually admired. And now, having seen all this, perhaps it would interest you to inspect the quarters of the owner.”

This was exactly what I desired to do, for from a man's sleeping quarters it is often possible to obtain some clue as to his real character.

Bidding me follow him, he led me along the saloon to a cabin at the farther end. With the remembrance of all I had seen in the other parts of the vessel still fresh in my mind, I was prepared to find the owner's berth replete with every luxury. My surprise may therefore be imagined when I discovered a tiny cabin, scarcely half the size of that occupied by myself, not only devoid of luxury, but lacking much of what is usually considered absolutely necessary. On the starboard side was the bunk, a plain wooden affair, in which were neatly folded several pairs of coa.r.s.e woollen blankets. Against the bulwark was the wash-hand-stand, and under the port a settee, covered with a fur rug, on which was curled up the monkey Pehtes. That was all. Nay, I am wrong--it was not all. For in a corner, carefully secured so that the movement of the vessel should not cause it to fall, was no less a thing than the mummy Pharos had stolen from me, and which was the first and foremost cause of my being where I was. From what he had told me of his errand I had surmised it might be on board; but I confess I scarcely expected to find it in the owner's cabin. With the sight of it the recollection of my studio rose before my eyes, and not only of the studio, but of that terrible night when the old man now standing beside me had called upon me and had used such diabolical means to obtain possession of the thing he wanted. In reality it was scarcely a week since Lady Medenham's ”at home”; but the gulf that separated the man I was then from the man I was now seemed one of centuries.

Accompanied by Pharos I returned to the deck, convinced that I was as far removed from an understanding of this strange individual's character as I had been since I had known him. Of the Fraulein Valerie I saw nothing until late in the afternoon. She was suffering from a severe headache, so the steward informed Pharos, and was not equal to leaving her cabin.

That this news was not palatable to my companion I gathered from the way in which his face darkened. However, he pretended to feel only solicitude for her welfare, and, having instructed the steward to convey his sympathy to her, returned to his conversation with me. In this fas.h.i.+on, reading, talking, and perambulating the deck, the remainder of the day pa.s.sed away, and it was not until we sat down to dinner at night that our party in the saloon was united. On board the yacht, as in his house in Naples, the cooking was perfection itself, but, as on that other occasion, Pharos did not partake of it. He dined as usual upon fruit and small wheaten cakes, finis.h.i.+ng his meal by pouring the powder into the gla.s.s of water and drinking it off as before.

When we rose from the table my host and hostess retired to their respective cabins, while I lit a cigar and went on deck. The sun was just disappearing below the horizon and a wonderful hush had fallen upon the sea. Scarcely a ripple disturbed its gla.s.sy surface, while the track the vessel left behind her seemed to lead across the world into the very eye of the sinking sun beyond. There was something awe-inspiring in the beauty and stillness of the evening. It was like the hush that precedes a violent storm, and seeing the captain near the entrance to the smoking-room, I made my way along the deck and accosted him, inquiring what he thought of the weather.

”I scarcely know what to think of it, monsieur,” he answered in French.

”The gla.s.s has fallen considerably since morning. My own opinion is that it is working up for a storm.”

I agreed with him, and after a few moments' more conversation, thanked him for his courtesy and returned aft.

Reaching the skylight, I seated myself upon it. The gla.s.ses were lifted and through the open s.p.a.ce I could see into the saloon below. The mellow light of the shaded electric lamps shone upon the rich decorations and the inlaid furniture and was reflected in the mirrors on the walls. As far as I could see no one was present. I was about to rise and move away when a sound came from the Fraulein Valerie's cabin that caused me to remain where I was. Someone was speaking, and that person was a woman.

Knowing there was no other of her s.e.x on board, this puzzled me more than I can say. The voice was harsh, monotonous, unmusical, and grated strangely upon the ear. There was a pause, then another, which I instantly recognised as belonging to Pharos, commenced.

I had no desire to play the eavesdropper, but for some reason which I can not explain I could not choose but listen.

”Come,” Pharos was saying in German, ”thou canst not disobey me. Hold my hand so, open thine eyes, and tell me what thou seest!”

There was a pause for a s.p.a.ce in which I could have counted fifty. Then the woman's voice answered as slowly and monotonously as before:

”I see a sandy plain, which stretches as far as the eye can reach in all directions save one. On that side it is bordered by a range of hills. I see a collection of tents, and in the one nearest me a man tossing on a bed of sickness.”

”Is it he? The man thou knowest?”

There was another pause, and when she answered, the woman's voice was even harsher than before:

”It is he.”

”What dost thou see now?”