Part 27 (1/2)

”I have ordered everything you suggested,” Mr. Gaynsforth answered,--”some oysters, a chicken en ca.s.serole, lettuce salad, some cheese, and a magnum of Pommery.”

”It is understood that you are my host?” Mr. Coulson insisted.

”Absolutely,” his companion declared. ”I consider it an honor.”

”Then,” Mr. Coulson said, pointing out his empty gla.s.s to the _sommelier_, ”we may as well understand one another. To you I am Mr.

James B. Coulson, travelling in patents for woollen machinery. If you put a quarter of a million of francs upon that table, I am still Mr.

James B. Coulson, travelling in woollen machinery. And if you add a million to that, and pile up the notes so high that they touch the ceiling, I remain Mr. James B. Coulson, travelling in patents for woollen machinery. Now, if you'll get that firmly into your head and stick to it and believe it, there's no reason why you and I shouldn't have a pleasant evening.”

Mr. Gaynsforth, although he was an Englishman and young, showed himself to be possessed of a sense of humor. He leaned back in his seat and roared with laughter.

”Mr. Coulson,” he said, ”I congratulate you and your employers. To the lower regions with business! Help yourself to the oysters and pa.s.s the wine.”

CHAPTER XVIII. MR. COULSON IS INDISCREET

On the following morning Mr. Coulson received what he termed his mail from America. Locked in his room on the fifth floor of the hotel, he carefully perused the contents of several letters. A little later he rang and ordered his bill. At four o'clock he left the Gare du Nord for London.

Like many other great men, Mr. Coulson was not without his weakness. He was brave, shrewd, and far-seeing. He enjoyed excellent health, and he scarcely knew the meaning of the word nerves. Nevertheless he suffered from seasickness. The first thing he did, therefore, when aboard the boat at Boulogne, was to bespeak a private cabin. The steward to whom he made his application shook his head with regret. The last two had just been engaged. Mr. Coulson tried a tip, and then a larger tip, with equal lack of success. He was about to abandon the effort and retire gloomily to the saloon, when a man who had been standing by, wrapped in a heavy fur overcoat, intervened.

”I am afraid, sir,” he said, ”that it is I who have just secured the last cabin. If you care to share it with me, however, I shall be delighted. As a matter of fact, I use it very little myself. The night has turned out so fine that I shall probably promenade all the time.”

”If you will allow me to divide the expense,” Mr. Coulson replied, ”I shall be exceedingly obliged to you, and will accept your offer. I am, unfortunately, a bad sailor.”

”That is as you will, sir,” the gentleman answered. ”The amount is only trifling.”

The night was a bright one, but there was a heavy sea running, and even in the harbor the boat was rocking. Mr. Coulson groaned as he made his way across the threshold of the cabin.

”I am going to have a horrible time,” he said frankly. ”I am afraid you'll repent your offer before you've done with me.”

His new friend smiled.

”I have never been seasick in my life,” he said, ”and I only engage a cabin for fear of wet weather. A fine night like this I shall not trouble you, so pray be as ill as you like.”

”It's nothing to laugh at,” Mr. Coulson remarked gloomily.

”Let me give you a little advice,” his friend said, ”and I can a.s.sure you that I know something of these matters, for I have been on the sea a great deal. Let me mix you a stiff brandy and soda. Drink it down and eat only a dry biscuit. I have some brandy of my own here.”

”Nothing does me any good,” Mr. Coulson groaned.

”This,” the stranger remarked, producing a flask from his case and dividing the liquor into equal parts, ”may send you to sleep. If so, you'll be across before you wake up. Here's luck!”

Mr. Coulson drained his gla.s.s. His companion was in the act of raising his to his lips when the s.h.i.+p gave a roll, his elbow caught the back of a chair, and the tumbler slipped from his fingers.

”It's of no consequence,” he declared, ringing for the steward. ”I'll go into the smoking room and get a drink. I was only going to have some to keep you company. As a matter of fact, I prefer whiskey.”

Mr. Coulson sat down upon the berth. He seemed indisposed for speech.

”I'll leave you now, then,” his friend said, b.u.t.toning his coat around him. ”You lie flat down on your back, and I think you'll find yourself all right.”