Part 55 (2/2)

”You were thinking of me, Hetty,” said the man.

For a long time she stared at him, transfixed, and then, with a low moan, covered her eyes with her hands.

”Is it true--is it a dream?” she sobbed.

He dropped down beside her and gathered her in his strong, eager arms.

”You WERE thinking of me, weren't you? And reproaching yourself, and hating yourself for running away like this? I thought so. Well, you might just as well try to dodge the smartest detective in the world as to give me the slip now, darling.”

”You--you spied on me?” she cried, in m.u.f.fled tones. She lay very limp in his arms.

”I did,” he confessed, without shame. ”'Gad, when I think of what I might be doing at this moment if I hadn't found you out in time!

Think of me back there in London, racing about like a madman, searching for you in every--”

”Please, please!” she implored.

”But luck was with me. You can't get away, Hetty. I shan't let you out of my sight again. I'll camp in front of your door and you'll see me wither and die of sleeplessness, for one or the other of my eyes will always be open.”

”Oh, I am so tired, so miserable,” she murmured.

”Poor little sweetheart!”

”I wish you would hate me.”

”Lie where you are, dearest, and--forget!”

”If I only could--forget!”

”Rest. I will hold you tight and keep you warm. We're in for a nasty crossing, but it is paradise for me. I am mad with the delight of having you here, holding you close to me, feeling you in my arms.

The wilder the night the better, for I am wild with the joy of it all. I love you! I love you!” He strained her closer to him in a sort of paroxysm.

She was quiet for a long time. Then she breathed into his ear:

”You will never know how much I was longing for you, just as you are now, Brandon, and in the midst of it all you came. It is like a fairy story, and oh, I shall always believe in fairies.”

All about them were the sinister sounds of the fog--the hoots, the growls and groans of lost things in the swirl of the North Sea current, creeping blindly through the guideless mist. To both of them, the night had a strangely symbolic significance: whither were they drifting and where lay the unseen port?

A huge liner from one of the German ports slipped across their bows with hoa.r.s.e blasts of warning. They saw the misty glow of her lights for an instant, and even as they drew the sharp breath of fear, the night resumed its mantle and their own little vessel seemed to come to life again after the shock of alarm and its engines throbbed the faster, just as the heartbeats quicken when reaction sets in.

A long time afterward the throbbing ceased, bell-buoys whistled and clanged about them; the sea suddenly grew calm and lifeless; they slid over it as if it were a quavering sheet of ice; and lights sneaked out of the fog and approached with stealthy swiftness.

Bells rang below and above them, sailors sprang up from everywhere and calls were heard below; the rattling of chains and the thumping of heavy luggage took the place of that steady, monotonous beat of the engines. People began to infest the deck, limp and groaning, hara.s.sed but voiceless. A mighty sigh seemed to envelop the whole s.h.i.+p--a sigh of relief.

Then it was that these two arose stiffly from their sheltered bench and gave heed to the things that were about them.

The Channel was behind them.

CHAPTER XVIII

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