Part 28 (2/2)
”My mission to you comes,” he said, ”at an unfortunate time. For the present, then, I accept defeat.”
”The fault,” Mr. Sabin murmured, ”is in no way with you. My refusal was a thing predestined. The Czar himself could not move me.”
The train was slowing a little. Felix looked out of the window.
”We are nearing Crewe,” he said. ”I shall alight then and return to London. You are for America, then?”
”Beyond doubt,” Mr. Sabin declared.
Felix drew from his pocket a letter.
”If you will deliver this for me,” he said, ”you will do me a kindness, and you will make a pleasant acquaintance.”
Mr. Sabin glanced at the imprescription. It was addressed to-- ”Mrs. J. B. Peterson, ”Lenox, ”Ma.s.s., U.S.A.”
”I will do so with pleasure,” he remarked, slipping it into his dressing-case.
”And remember this,” Felix remarked, glancing out at the platform along which they were gliding. ”You are a marked man. Disguise is useless for you. Be ever on your guard. You and I have been enemies, but after all you are too great a man to fall by the hand of a German a.s.sa.s.sin. Farewell!”
”I will thank you for your caution and remember it,” Mr. Sabin answered. ”Farewell!”
Felix raised his hat, and Mr. Sabin returned the salute. The whistle sounded. Felix stepped out on to the platform.
”You will not forget the letter?” he asked ”I will deliver it in person without fail,” Mr. Sabin answered.
CHAPTER XLI.
MR. AND MRS. WATSON OF NEW YORK.
It was their third day out, and Mr. Sabin was enjoying the voyage very much indeed. The Calipha was a small boat sailing to Boston instead of New York, and contemptuously termed by the ocean-going public an old tub. She carried, consequently, only seven pa.s.sengers besides Mr. Sabin, and it had taken him but a very short time to decide that of those seven pa.s.sengers not one was interested in him or his affairs. He had got clear away, for the present at any rate, from all the complications and dangers which had followed upon the failure of his great scheme. Of course by this time the news of his departure and destination was known to every one whom his movements concerned. That was almost a matter of course, and realising even the impossibility of successful concealment, Mr. Sabin had made no attempt at any. He had given the name of Sabin to the steward, and had secured the deck's cabin for his own use. He chatted every day with the captain, who treated him with respect, and in reply to a question from one of the stewards who was a Frenchman, he admitted that he was the Duc de Souspennier, and that he was travelling incognito only as a whim. He was distinctly popular with every one of the seven pa.s.sengers, who were a little doubtful how to address him, but whom he succeeded always in putting entirely at their ease. He entered, too, freely into the little routine of steamer life. He played shuffleboard for an hour or more every morning, and was absolutely invincible at the game; he brought his golf clubs on deck one evening after dinner, and explained the manner of their use to an admiring little circle of the seven pa.s.sengers, the captain, and doctor. He rigorously supported the pool each day, and he even took a hand at a mild game of poker one wet afternoon, when timidly invited to do so by Mr. Hiram Shedge, an oil merchant of Boston. He had in no way the deportment or manner of a man who had just pa.s.sed through a great crisis, nor would any one have gathered from his conversation or demeanour that he was the head of one of the greatest houses in Europe and a millionaire. The first time a shadow crossed his face was late one afternoon, when, coming on deck a little behind the others after lunch, he found them all leaning over the starboard bow, gazing intently at some object a little distance off, and at the same time became aware that the engines had been put to half-speed.
He was strolling towards the little group, when the captain, seeing him, beckoned him on to the bridge.
”Here's something that will interest you, Mr. Sabin,” he called out. ”Won't you step this way?”
Mr. Sabin mounted the iron steps carefully but with his eyes turned seawards; a large yacht of elegant shape and painted white from stern to bows was lying-to about half a mile off flying signals.
Mr. Sabin reached the bridge and stood by the captain's side.
”A pleasure yacht,” he remarked. ”What does she want?”
”I shall know in a moment,” the captain answered with his gla.s.s to his eye. ”She flew a distress signal at first for us to stand by, so I suppose she's in trouble. Ah! there it goes. 'Mainshaft broken,' she says.”
”She doesn't lie like it,” Mr. Sabin remarked quietly.
The captain looked at him with a smile.
”You know a bit about yachting too,” he said, ”and, to tell you the truth, that's just what I was thinking.”
”Holmes.”
”Yes, sir.”
”Ask her what she wants us to do.”
The signalman touched his hat, and the little row of flags ran fluttering up in the breeze.
”She signals herself the Mayflower, private yacht, owner Mr. James Watson of New York,” he remarked. ”She's a beautiful boat.”
Mr. Sabin, who had brought his own gla.s.ses, looked at her long and steadily.
”She's not an American built boat, at any rate,” he remarked.
An answering signal came fluttering back. The captain opened his book and read it.
”She's going on under canvas,” he said, ”but she wants us to take her owner and his wife on board.”
”Are you compelled to do so?” Mr. Sabin asked.
The captain laughed.
”Not exactly! I'm not expected to pick up pa.s.sengers in mid ocean.”
”Then I shouldn't do it,” Mr. Sabin said. ”If they are in a hurry the Alaska is due up to-day, isn't she? and she'll be in New York in three days, and the Baltimore must be close behind her. I should let them know that.”
”Well,” the captain answered, ”I don't want fresh pa.s.sengers bothering just now.”
The flags were run up, and the replies came back as promptly. The captain shut up his gla.s.s with a bang.
”No getting out of them,” he remarked to Mr. Sabin. ”They reply that the lady is nervous and will not wait; they are coming on board at once--for fear I should go on, I suppose. They add that Mr. Watson is the largest American holder of Cunard stock and a director of the American Board, so have them we must--that's pretty certain. I must see the purser.”
He descended, and Mr. Sabin, following him, joined the little group of pa.s.sengers. They all stood together watching the long rowing boat which was coming swiftly towards them through the smooth sea. Mr. Sabin explained to them the messages which had pa.s.sed, and together they admired the disabled yacht.
Mr. Sabin touched the first mate on the arm as he pa.s.sed.
”Did you ever see a vessel like that, Johnson?” he remarked.
The man shook his head.
”Their engineer is a fool, sir!” he declared scornfully. ”Nothing but my own eyes would make me believe there's anything serious the matter with her shaft.”
”I agree with you,” Mr. Sabin said quietly.
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