Part 33 (1/2)

Mr. Sabin thought of those things which had pa.s.sed, and he thought of what was to come, and a moment of bitterness crept into his life which he knew must leave its mark for ever. His head drooped into his hands and remained buried there. Thus he stood until the first ray of sunlight travelling across the water fell upon him, and he knew that morning had come. He crossed the deck, and entering his cabin closed the door.

CHAPTER XLIX.

MR. SABIN IS SENTIMENTAL.

Mr. Sabin found it a harder matter than he had antic.i.p.ated to induce the captain to consent to the scheme he had formulated. Nevertheless, he succeeded in the end, and by lunch time the following day the whole affair was settled. There was a certain amount of risk in the affair, but, on the other hand, if successfully carried out, it set free once and for ever the two men mainly concerned in it. Mr. Sabin, who was in rather a curious mood, came out of the captain's room a little after one o'clock feeling altogether indisposed for conversation of any sort, ordered his luncheon from the deck steward, and moved his chair apart from the others into a sunny, secluded corner of the boat.

It was here that Mrs. Watson found him an hour later. He heard the rustle of silken draperies across the deck, a faint but familiar perfume suddenly floated into the salt, sunlit air. He looked around to find her bending over him, a miracle of white--cool, dainty, and elegant.

”And why this seclusion, Sir Misanthrope?”

He laughed and dragged her chair alongside of his.

”Come and sit down,” he said. ”I want to talk to you. I want,” he added, lowering his voice, ”to thank you for your warning.”

They were close together now and alone, cut off from the other chairs by one of the lifeboats. She looked up at him from amongst the cus.h.i.+ons with which her chair was hung.

”You understood,” she murmured.

”Perfectly.”

”You are safe now,” she said. ”From him at any rate. You have won him over.”

”I have found a way of safety,” Mr. Sabin said, ”for both of us.”

She leaned her head upon her delicate white fingers, and looked at him curiously.

”Your plans,” she said, ”are admirable; but what of me?”

Mr. Sabin regarded her with some faint indication of surprise. He was not sure what she meant. Did she expect a reward for her warning, he wondered. Her words would seem to indicate something of the sort, and yet he was not sure.

”I am afraid,” he said kindly, ”we have not considered you very much yet. You will go on to Boston, of course. Then I suppose you will return to Germany.”

”Never,” she exclaimed, with suppressed pa.s.sion. ”I have broken my vows. I shall never set foot in Germany again. I broke them for your sake.”

Mr. Sabin looked at her thoughtfully.

”I am glad to hear you say that,” he declared. ”Believe me, my dear young lady, I have seen a great deal of such matters, and I can a.s.sure you that the sooner you break away from all a.s.sociation with this man Watson and his employers the better.”

”It is all over,” she murmured. ”I am a free woman.”

Mr. Sabin was delighted to hear it. Yet he felt that there was a certain awkwardness between them. He was this woman's debtor, and he had made no effort to discharge his debt. What did she expect from him? He looked at her through half-closed eyes, and wondered.

”If I can be of any use to you,” he suggested softly, ”in any fresh start you may make in life, you have only to command me.”

She kept her face averted from him. There was land in sight, and she seemed much interested in it.

”What are you going to do in America?”

Mr. Sabin looked out across the sea, and he repeated her question to himself. What was he going to do in this great, strange land, whose ways were not his ways, and whose sympathies lay so far apart from his?

”I cannot tell,” he murmured. ”I have come here for safety. I have no country nor any friends. This is the land of my exile.”

A soft, white hand touched his for a moment. He looked into her face, and saw there an emotion which surprised him.

”It is my exile too,” she said. ”I shall never dare to return. I have no wish to return.”

”But your friends?” Mr. Sabin commenced. ”Your family?”

”I have no family.”

Mr. Sabin was thoughtful for several moments, then he took out his case and lit a cigarette. He watched the blue smoke floating away over the s.h.i.+p's side, and looked no more at the woman at his elbow.

”If you decide,” he said quietly, ”to settle in America, you must not allow yourself to forget that I am very much your debtor. I----”

”Your friends.h.i.+p,” she interrupted, ”I shall be very glad to have. We may perhaps help one another to feel less lonely.”

Mr. Sabin gently shook his head.

”I had a friend of your s.e.x once,” he said. ”I shall--forgive me--never have another.”

”Is she dead?”

”If she is dead, it is I who have killed her. I sacrificed her to my ambition. We parted, and for months--for years--I scarcely thought of her, and now the day of retribution has come. I think of her, but it is in vain. Great barriers have rolled between us since those days, but she was my first friend, and she will be my only one.”

There was a long silence. Mr. Sabin's eyes were fixed steadily seawards. A flood of recollections had suddenly taken possession of him. When at last he looked round, the chair by his side was vacant.

CHAPTER L.

A HARBOUR TRAGEDY.

The voyage of the Calipha came to its usual termination about ten o'clock on the following morning, when she pa.s.sed Boston lights and steamed slowly down the smooth waters of the harbour. The seven pa.s.sengers were all upon deck in wonderfully transformed guise. Already the steamer chairs were being tied up and piled away; the stewards, officiously anxious to render some last service, were hovering around. Mrs. Watson, in a plain tailor gown and quiet felt hat, was sitting heavily veiled apart and alone. There were no signs of either Mr. Watson or Mr. Sabin. The captain was on the bridge talking to the pilot. Scarcely a hundred yards away lay the Kaiser Wilhelm, white and stately, with her bra.s.s work s.h.i.+ning like gold in the sunlight, and her decks as white as snow.

The Calipha was almost at a standstill, awaiting the doctor's brig, which was coming up to her on the port side. Every one was leaning over the railing watching her. Mr. Watson and Mr. Sabin, who had just come up the gangway together, turned away towards the deserted side of the boat, engaged apparently in serious conversation. Suddenly every one on deck started. A revolver shot, followed by two heavy splashes in the water, rang out clear and crisp above the clanking of chains and slighter noises. There was a moment's startled silence--every one looked at one another--then a rush for the starboard side of the steamer. Above the little torrent of minor exclamations, the captain's voice sang out like thunder.

”Lower the number one boat. Quartermaster, man a crew.”