Part 20 (2/2)
This is my private room, you see. In England you would not laugh at a man who works afloat, for you are all sailors. Now, tell me how you like it?”
The cabin certainly was beautifully furnished. Walls of polished wood had their adornment of excellent seascapes, many of them bought at the Paris salon. A bureau with delightful curves and a clock set at the apex above the writing-shelf pleased Alban immensely--he thought that he had seen nothing more graceful even at ”Five Gables”; while the chair to match it needed no sham expert to declare its worth. The carpet was of crimson, without pattern but elegantly bordered. There were many shelves for books, but no evidence of commercial papers other than a great staring ledger which was the one eyesore.
”I like your room very much indeed,” said Alban upon his swift survey--”not many people would have thought of this. We are all afraid of the damp in England, and if we talked of a floating office, people would think us mad.” And then he added--”But you don't come here in winter, Herr Petermann--this place is no use to you then?”
Herr Petermann smiled as though he were well pleased.
”Every place has its uses sometimes,” he rejoined a little vaguely, ”we never know what is going to happen to us. That is why we should help each other when the occasion arises. You, of course, are visiting Warsaw merely as a tourist, Mr. Kennedy?”
”Indeed, no--I have come here to find a very old friend, the daughter--”
”No names, if you please, Mr. Kennedy. You have come here, I think you said, to find the son of a very old friend. What makes you suppose that I can help you?”
His change of tone had been a marvellous thing to hear--so swift, so masterful that Alban understood in a moment what strength of will and purpose lay hidden by this bland smile and benevolent manner. Herr Petermann was far from being the simple old fellow he pretended to be.
You never could have named him that if you had heard him speak as he spoke those few stern words. Alban, upon his part, felt as though some one had slapped him upon the cheek and called him a fool.
”I am very sorry,” he blundered--and then recovering himself, he said as honestly--”Is there any need to ask me for reasons? Are not our aims the same, Herr Petermann?”
”To sell wood, Mr. Kennedy?”
Alban was almost angry.
”I was walking down from the Castle,” he began, but again the stern voice arrested him.
”Neither names nor history, if your please, Mr. Kennedy. We are here to do business together as two honest merchants. All that I shall have to ask you is your word, the word of an English gentleman, that nothing which transpires upon my premises shall be spoken of outside under any circ.u.mstances whatever.”
”That is very readily given, Herr Petermann.”
”Your solemn a.s.surance?”
”My solemn a.s.surance.”
The old fellow nodded and smiled. He had become altogether benevolent once more and seemed exceedingly pleased with himself and everybody else.
”It is fortunate that you should have applied to me,” he exclaimed very cheerily--”since you are thinking of taking a Polish servant--please do not interrupt me--since you are thinking of taking a Polish servant and of asking him to accompany you to England, by boat, if you should find the journey otherwise inconvenient--I merely put the idea to you--there is a young man in my employment who might very honestly be recommended to your notice. Is it not lucky that he is here at this moment--on board this very barge, Mr. Kennedy?”
Alban looked about him astonished. He half expected to see Lois step out of one of the cupboards or appear from the recess beneath Herr Petermann's table. The amiable wood merchant enjoyed his perplexity--as others of his race he was easily amused.
”Ah, I see that I am troubling you,” he exclaimed, ”and really there is not much time to be lost. Let me introduce this amiable young man to you without delay, Mr. Kennedy. I am sure he will be very pleased to see you.”
He stood up and went to the wall of the cabin nearest to the s.h.i.+p's bow.
A panel cut in this gave access to the lower deck; he opened it and revealed a great empty hold, deftly covered by the tarpaulin and made to appear fully loaded to any one who looked at the barge from the sh.o.r.e.
”Here is your friend,” he cried with huge delight of his own cleverness, ”here is the young servant you are looking for, Mr. Kennedy. And mind,”
he added this in the same stern voice which had exacted the promise, ”and mind, I have your solemn promise.”
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