Part 18 (1/2)

He had reached the door before restraining hands seized him, and he was brought back with many apologies.

Notwithstanding their amus.e.m.e.nt, the council were resolved to make an example of Sarkies. Galbraith, however, made an effort in his defence.

He hoped, he said, to bring the erring youth back to better ways. But notwithstanding all his persuasions, he was outvoted in this instance, even Bunny taking the elder's side, and the expulsion of Sarkies was decided on.

Bullin was not inclined to let the gra.s.s grow under his feet. The formal letter was then and there written, signed by all the members, and handed to the clerk for despatch.

It was now deemed advisable to bring the sitting to a close, and this was done with the same formal ceremony of prayer which opened it.

The members now dispersed, the elder showing his grat.i.tude for Bunny's support by insisting on driving him home.

CHAPTER IX.

AT THE DIVAN EXCHANGE.

When the news that Sarkies was cast out of the bosom of the church reached the family, there was at first consternation and despair. But pride came to their rescue. ”I don't care,” said Jimmy; and the mother and the aunt, tossing their heads, echoed his sentiments. Mrs. Sarkies returned a small box full of woolwork, the shop of the Dorcas Society, with a stinging note to Mrs. Bunny, in which she accused that innocent woman of having conspired to bring about the annoyance to which they were subjected. Mrs. Sarkies was convinced that it was solely through Mrs. Bunny's desire to have charge of the work of the Dorcas Society that all this had happened.

The next Sunday the whole Sarkies family drove slowly past the tabernacle in a hired phaeton just as the congregation were coming out after service, and cut every member dead. It was glorious. They came back to their midday meal feeling a calm satisfaction at having revenged a great wrong.

There was much discussion as to whether the family should join the congregation of the established church, or take the bolder step of going over to Rome--the latter for preference, as it would fairly spite their enemies. The question, however, was for the present left in abeyance, and until it was settled they decided not to go to any church at all. Mr. Sarkies himself felt a load lifted from his mind at this decision. He determined not to let his love affair rest, and, notwithstanding every precaution, managed to obtain an interview with Lizzie, by the simple process of clambering up the trunk of a cocoanut palm which leaned against the high wall surrounding the elder's garden. Mr. Sarkies climbed up sufficiently high to overlook the wall, and Lizzie stood on the ground below him. The gla.s.s-covered wall was, however, between them. The position was not dignified, nor was it exactly comfortable, and Mr. Sarkies dreaded the general publicity of the whole scene. Still, however, he came to a satisfactory understanding with Lizzie. When she finally turned and vanished amid the trees, her white dress flitting through the open s.p.a.ces in a ghostly manner, Sarkies came down with a sigh of relief, and, arranging his somewhat disordered dress, walked slowly toward a cab-stand. Hailing a buggy, and jingling some coin in his pocket, he jumped in and drove rapidly toward the Fort. He had mentally determined to celebrate his success by having an evening at the Divan Exchange, a saloon kept by an enterprising American, who concocted wondrous drinks, where the billiard-table was good, and the ice-creams marvellous. There was quite a crowd of cabs collected at the door, and the place was full when Sarkies entered it. Over the bar was a huge transparency representing the face of a clock, with the legend ”No Tick Here” inscribed in large capitals on its face--a motto often full of sore disappointment to the customers. Immediately below this stood Colonel William P. Tamblyn, the proprietor, watching the practised hand of his tapsters as they poured forth monkeys, dogs' noses, eye openers, maiden's blushes, and other drinks whose name is legion. From the rooms above came the click of billiard b.a.l.l.s, and the monotonous call of the marker--”Fiftee--fiftee-two--good game, sar!” Little marble-topped tables were scattered about, and from a das in the corner half a dozen musicians regaled the company with a choice selection of airs, from the ”Blue Danube” to ”Yankee Doodle.” The music was almost drowned in the buzz of voices. All nationalities except China were represented here. Colonel Tamblyn announced that he drew the line there, and a flaring poster both outside and inside announced that ”Chinamen and Soldiers in uniform are not admitted.”

Sarkies obtained a suitable drink; he chose that pink compound of rum, mint, crushed ice, and peach brandy which rejoices in the name of maiden's blush, and bore it away with him to the billiard-room upstairs. The tables were full, and Sarkies, making himself comfortable on a bench, waited for his turn to come.

Beside him sat a neat-looking man, clean-shaven, with red hair and small black bead eyes. His blue coat with bra.s.s anchor b.u.t.tons explained his calling. His ducks were spotlessly white, and the pipe-clay on his canvas shoes evidently just dry.

”May I trouble you for a light?” said the man.

”Certainly;” and Sarkies handed him a small plated box containing wax vestas.

The stranger lit a cheroot, and, returning the box, inquired, ”Come here often?”

”Ya'as--sometimes,” and Sarkies took a pull at his drink.

”This is about the first time I've been here; my s.h.i.+p has only just come in. Pleasant place this.” And the stranger watched the end of his cheroot keenly to see that it was burning properly.

”Have a game after this?” asked Sarkies, and the stranger agreed.

They were able to get a table, and a small bet was made on the game, which Sarkies, much to his delight, won. The stranger paid up, and as he did so he remarked:

”You play a very good game--may I ask your name?”

”Oh, Sarkies--I'm in Apc.o.o.n Brothers.”

”The great s.h.i.+pping agents--delighted to meet you--allow me to present my card to you,” and Mr. Sarkies's new acquaintance drew a card from a new leather case and handed it to him.

Sarkies regretted within himself that he had not brought a card-case with him, and determined in future never to be without one. He bowed politely over the outstretched hand of his companion, and took the card between his fingers; as he glanced at it an expression of surprise came over his face.

”Captain S. Lamport, Merchant Marine,” he said aloud. ”This is strange.”