Part 8 (1/2)

Austin put himself to some trouble in endeavouring to make Macallister understand what he thought of him, when they had gone, but the engineer only grinned.

”Well,” he said, ”I'll forgive ye. If I had looked like ye do with two ladies watching me, I might have been a bit short in temper myself, but come away to your room. The _Andalusia_'s boat came across a while ago, and there's business waiting ye.”

Austin went with him, but stopped a moment when he approached his room.

The door was open, as usual, and a stranger, in grey tourist tweed, upon whom Englishman and clergyman was stamped unmistakably, sat inside the room. Austin felt that he knew who the man must be.

”Does he know Miss Gascoyne is on board?” he asked.

”No,” said Macallister. ”The boat came round under our quarter, and we landed him through the lower gangway. He said he'd stay here and wait for ye. He's no sociable, anyway. I've offered him cigars and anisow, besides some of my special whisky, but he did not seem willing to talk to me.”

Austin fancied he could understand it. Macallister, who had discarded his jacket, was very grimy, and his unb.u.t.toned uniform vest failed to conceal the grease stains on his s.h.i.+rt. Then he remembered that his own jacket was torn to rags, and he was very wet; but Macallister raised his voice:

”Here's Mr. Austin, sir,” he said.

The clergyman, who said nothing, gazed at him, and Austin, who realised that his appearance was against him, understood his astonishment. He also fancied that the stranger was one with whom appearances usually counted a good deal.

”If you will wait a minute or two while I change my clothes, I will be at your service, sir,” he said. ”As you may observe, I have been in the sea.”

”Swum off to the steamer,” said Macallister, with a wicked smile. ”It saves was.h.i.+ng. He comes off yon way now and then.”

Austin said nothing, but stepped into the room, and, gathering up an armful of clothing, departed, leaving a pool of water behind him. The clergyman, it was evident, did not know what to make of either of them.

A few minutes later Austin, who came back and closed the door, sat down opposite him.

”My name is Gascoyne,” said the stranger, handing him an open note.

”Mr. Brown of Las Palmas, who gave me this introduction, a.s.sured me that I could speak to you confidentially, and that you would be able to tell me where my daughter and Mrs. Hatherly are staying.”

Austin glanced at him with misgivings. He was a little man, with pale blue eyes, and hair just streaked with grey. His face was white and fleshy, without animation or any suggestion of ability in it, but there had been something in the tone which seemed to indicate that he had, at least, been accustomed to petty authority. Austin at once set him down as a man of essentially conventional views, who was deferred to in some remote English parish; in fact, just the man he would have expected Muriel Gascoyne's father to be; that is, before she had revealed her inner self. It was a type he was by no means fond of, and he was quite aware that circ.u.mstances were scarcely likely to prepossess a man of that description in his favour. Still, Austin was a friend of Jefferson's, and meant to do what he could for him.

”I know where Miss Gascoyne is, but you suggested that you had something to ask me, and I shall be busy by and by,” he said.

Gascoyne appeared anxious, but evidently very uncertain whether it would be advisable to take him into his confidence.

”I understand that you are a friend of Mr. Jefferson's?” he said.

”I am. I may add that I am glad to admit it, and I almost fancy I know what you mean to ask me.”

Gascoyne, who appeared grateful for this lead, looked at him steadily.

”Perhaps I had better be quite frank. Indeed, Mr. Brown, who informed me that you could tell more about Jefferson than any one in the islands, recommended it,” he said. ”I am, Mr. Austin, a clergyman who has never been outside his own country before, and I think it is advisable that I should tell you this, because there may be points upon which our views will not coincide. It was not easy for me to get away now, but the future of my motherless daughter is a matter of the greatest concern to me, and I understand that Mr. Jefferson is in Africa. I want you to tell me candidly--as a gentleman--what kind of man he is.”

Austin felt a little better disposed towards Gascoyne after this. His anxiety concerning his daughter was evident, and he had, at least, not adopted quite the att.i.tude Austin had expected. But as Austin was not by any means brilliant himself, he felt the difficulty of making Gascoyne understand the character of such a man as Jefferson, while his task was complicated by the fact that he recognised his responsibility to both of them. Gascoyne had put him on his honour, and he could not paint Jefferson as he was not. In the meanwhile he greatly wished to think.

”I wonder if I might offer you a gla.s.s of wine, sir, or perhaps you smoke?” he said.

”No, thanks,” said Gascoyne, with uncompromising decision. ”I am aware that many of my brethren indulge in these luxuries. I do not.”

”Well,” said Austin, ”if you will tell me what you have already heard about Jefferson it might make the way a little plainer.”

”I have been told that he is an American seafarer, it seems of the usual careless type. Seafarers are, perhaps, liable to special temptations, and it is generally understood that the lives most of them lead are not altogether----”