Part 28 (1/2)

Before he could move, Code's hard, strong hands closed upon his arms in a grip that brought a bellow of pain. In deadly fear of his life, he babbled protests, apologies, and pleadings in an incoherent medley that would have satisfied the most toughened skeptic. Code released him, laughing.

”Well, I guess you're real, all right,” he said. ”Now if you're in earnest about all this, draw that bath _quick_. Then I'll believe you.”

Half an hour later Code, bathed, shaved, and feeling like a different man, was luxuriating in fresh linen and a comfortable suit.

”Look here, Martin,” he said to the valet, ”of course I know that this is no more the gunboat _Albatross_ than I am. The Canadian government isn't in the habit of treating prisoners in exactly this manner. What boat is this?”

Martin coughed a little before answering. In all his experience he had never before been asked to dress the skipper of a fis.h.i.+ng vessel.

”I was told to say, sir, in case you asked, that you are aboard the mystery schooner, sir.”

”What! The mystery schooner that led the steamer that chase?”

”Yes, sir.”

”Well, by the great trawl hook! And I didn't know it!”

”No, sir. Remember we came up behind the _Nettie B._, and when you were transferred you were made to sit facing away from this s.h.i.+p so you would not recognize her.”

”Then all the guns were fakes, and the whole business of a man-of-war as well?” cried Code, astonished almost out of his wits by this latest development in his fortunes.

”Yes, sir. The appearances were false, but as for seamans.h.i.+p, sir, this vessel could not do what she does were it not for the strict training aboard her, sir. I'll wager our lads can out-maneuver and outsail any schooner of her tonnage on the seas, Gloucestermen included. The navy is easy compared to our discipline.”

”But what holds the men to it if it's so hard?”

”Double wages and loyalty to the captain.”

”Captain Foraker?”

”Yes, sir. There, sir, that tie is beautiful. Now the waistcoat and coat. If you will permit me, sir, you look, as I might say, 'andsome, begging your pardon.”

Code flushed and looked into the gla.s.s that hung against the wall of his cabin. He barely recognized the clean-shaven, clear-eyed, broad shouldered youth he saw there as the rough, salty skipper of the schooner _Charming La.s.s_. He wondered with a chuckle what Pete Ellinwood would say if he could see him.

”And now, sir, if you're ready, just come with me, sir. Dinner is at seven, and it is now a quarter to the hour.”

Stunned by the wonders already experienced, and vaguely hoping that the dream would last forever, Code followed the bewhiskered valet down a narrow pa.s.sage carpeted with a stuff so thick that it permitted no sound.

Martin pa.s.sed several doors--the pa.s.sage was lighted by small electrics--and finally paused before one on the right-hand side. Here he knocked, and apparently receiving an answer, peered into the room for a moment. Withdrawing his head, he swung the door open and turned to Schofield.

”Go right in, sir,” he said, and Code, eager for new wonders, stepped past him.

The room was a small sitting-room, lighted softly by inverted bowl-shaped globes of gla.s.s so colored as to bring out the full value of the pink velours and satin brocades with which the room was hung and the furniture covered.

For a moment he stared without seeing anything, and then a slight rustling in a far corner diverted his attention. He looked sharply and saw a woman rise from a lounge and come toward him with outstretched hands.

She was Elsa Mallaby!

CHAPTER XXIV