Part 6 (1/2)
”My young friend,” Herr Selingman declared impressively, ”if there is one thing in the world I envy you, it is that capacity for sleep. You all have it, you English. Your heads touch the pillow, and off you go. Do you know that the man is waiting for you to take your coffee?”
Norgate lay quite still for several moments. Beyond a slight headache, he was feeling as usual. He leaned over the side of the bunk.
”How many whiskies and soda did I have last night?” he asked.
Herr Selingman smiled.
”But one only,” he announced. ”There was only one to be had. I found a little whisky in my flask. I remembered that I had an English travelling companion, and I sent for some soda-water. You drank yours, and you did sleep. I go now and sit in the corridor while you dress.”
Norgate swung round in his bunk and slipped to the floor.
”Jolly good of you,” he muttered sleepily, ”but it was very strong whisky.”
CHAPTER V
There was a babel of voices as the long train came to a stand-still in the harbour station at Ostend. Selingman, with characteristic forcefulness, pushed his way down the narrow corridor, driving before him pa.s.sengers of less weight and pertinacity, until finally he descended on to the platform itself. Norgate, who had followed meekly in his wake, stood listening for a moment to the confused stream of explanations. He understood well enough what had happened, but with Selingman at his elbow he a.s.sumed an air of non-comprehension.
”It is extraordinary!” the latter exclaimed. ”Never do I choose this route but I am visited with some mishap. You hear what has happened?”
”Fellow's trying to tell me,” Norgate replied, ”but his Flemish is worse to understand than German.”
”The steamer,” Selingman announced, ”has met with an accident entering the harbour. There will be a delay of at least six hours--possibly more.
It is most annoying. My appointments in London have been fixed for days.”
”Bad luck!” Norgate murmured.
”You do not seem much distressed.”
”Why should I be? I really came this way because I was not sure whether I would not stay here for a few days.”
”That is all very well for you,” Selingman declared, as they followed their porters into the shed. ”For me, I am a man of affairs. It is different. My business goes by clockwork. All is regulated by rule, with precision, with punctuality. Now I shall be many hours behind my schedule. I shall be compelled to alter my appointments--I, who pride myself always upon altering nothing. But behold! One must make the best of things. What a suns.h.i.+ne! What a sea! We shall meet, without a doubt, upon the Plage. I have friends here. I must seek them. Au revoir, my young travelling companion. To the good fortune!”
They drifted apart, and Norgate, having made arrangements about his luggage, strolled through the town and on to the promenade. It was early for the full season at Ostend, but the sands were already crowded with an immense throng of children and holiday-makers. The hotels were all open, and streams of people were pa.s.sing back and forth along the front, Norgate, who had no wish to meet acquaintances, pa.s.sed the first period of his enforced wait a little wearily. He took a taxicab and drove as far as Knocke. Here he strolled across the links and threw himself down finally amongst a little wave of sandy hillocks close to the sea. The silence, and some remains of the sleepiness of the previous night, soon began to have their natural effect. He closed his eyes and began to doze.
When he awoke, curiously enough, it was a familiar voice which first fell upon his ears. He turned his head cautiously. Seated not a dozen yards away from him was a tall, thin man with a bag of golf clubs by his side.
He was listening with an air of engrossed attention to his companion's impressive remarks. Norgate, raising himself upon his elbow, no longer had any doubts. The man stretched upon his back on the sand, partly hidden from sight by a little gra.s.s-grown undulation, was his late travelling companion.
”You do well, my dear Marquis, believe me!” the latter exclaimed.
”Property in Belgium is valuable to-day. Take my advice. Sell. There are so many places where one may live, where the climate is better for a man of your const.i.tution.”
”That is all very well,” his companion replied querulously, ”but remember that Belgium, after all, is my country. My chateau and estates came to me by inheritance. Notwithstanding the frequent intermarriages of my family with the aristocracy of your country, I am still a Belgian.”
”Ah! but, my dear friend,” Selingman protested, ”you are more than a Belgian, more than a man of local nationality. You are a citizen of the world of intelligence. You are able to see the truth. The days are coming when small states may exist no longer without the all-protecting arm of a more powerful country. I say no more than this. The position of Belgium is artificial. Of her own will, or of necessity, she must soon become merged in the onward flow of mightier nations.”
”What about Holland, then?”
”Holland, too,” Selingman continued, ”knows the truth. She knows very well that the limit of her days as an independent kingdom is almost reached. The Power which has absorbed the states of Prussia into one mighty empire, pauses only to take breath. There are many signs--”