Part 18 (1/2)

”Then I shall leave you with a pleasant memory,” Monty said. ”Good day.”

”Stop a moment,” the stranger asked after a pause in which rage and astonishment chased themselves across his well-nourished countenance.

”Who do you think I am, anyway?”

”Your name and number don't interest me,” Monty said loftily. He noted that the steward was enjoying it after the quiet inexpressive manner of the English servant. ”But I've no doubt at some time or another I lost money to you--your old college friend's money of course--in some quiet game with your confederates.”

”Now, what do you think of that!” the red-faced man exclaimed as he watched Monty's retreating figure. But the steward was non-committal. He was not paid to give up his inner thoughts but to bring drinks on a tray.

The stout and affable gentleman was a member of the Stock Exchanges of London and New York and made frequent journeys between these cities. He held the ocean record of having crossed more times and seen the waves less than any stock-broker living. He had pa.s.sed more hours in a favorite chair in the Mauretania's smoking-room than any man had done since time began. He was raconteur of ability and had been a close friend of the elder Vaughan's years before at Yale. And he burned with fierce indignation when he remembered that he had held the infant Monty years ago and prophesied to a proud mother that he would be her joy and pride. Joy and pride! He snorted and fell away from his true form so far as to seek the deck and suck in fresh air.

There he happened upon Mrs. Harrington talking to Denby. She knew G.o.dfrey Hazen. He had often been to Westbury, and Michael esteemed him for his great knowledge of the proper beverage to take for every emergency that may arise upon an ocean voyage.

”What makes you look so angry?” she exclaimed.

He calmed down when he saw her. ”I've just been taken for a professional gambler,” he cried.

”I thought all stock-brokers were that,” she said smiling.

”I mean a different sort,” he explained, ”the kind that work the big liners. I just asked him to have a drink when he said he didn't drink with strangers and hinted I had my picture in the rogues' gallery.”

”Who was it?” she inquired.

”That ne'er-do-well, Monty Vaughan,” he answered.

”Monty?” she said. ”Impossible!”

”Is it?” he said grimly. ”We'll see. Here comes the young gentleman.”

Monty sauntered up without noticing him at first. When he did, he stopped short and was in no whit abashed. ”Trying a new game?” he inquired.

”Monty, don't you remember Mr. Hazen?” Alice said reproachfully.

”Have I made an a.s.s of myself?” he asked miserably.

”I wouldn't label any four-footed beast by the name I'd call you,” said Mr. Hazen firmly.

”Why didn't you tell me your name?” Monty asked.

”You ought to have remembered me,” the implacable Hazen retorted. ”Why, I held you in my arms when you were only three months old.”

”Then I wish you had dropped me and broken me,” Monty exclaimed, ”and I should have been spared a lot of worry.” Things were piling up to make him more than ever nervous. He had overheard two pa.s.sengers saying they understood the Mauretania's voyagers were to have a special examination at the Customs on account of diamond smuggling. ”I'm sorry, Mr. Hazen,”

he said more graciously, ”but I've things on my mind and you must accept that as the reason.”

When he had gone Mr. Hazen was introduced to Denby and prevailed upon to occupy Monty's seat.

”I don't like the look of it,” Mr. Hazen said, shaking his head. ”At his age he oughtn't to have any worries. I didn't.”

”If you can keep a secret,” Mrs. Harrington confided, ”I think I can tell you exactly what is the matter with Monty and I'm sure you'll make excuses for him, Mr. Hazen.”

”Maybe,” he returned dubiously, ”but you should have heard how he called me down before a steward!”