Part 47 (2/2)

He turned at last and came back to his chair as the other cleared his throat.

”There is sense--common sense in what you say.” The big eyes of the man were clear and luminous, but they were not looking at his visitor. They were gazing at the oil-lamp on the table. ”But you have not read Vita's letters, or you would see that much of your statement becomes impossible. I have not the right to show you those letters, therefore you must accept, or not, what I say. I a.s.sure you if there is a trick, or plot, it is so deeply laid that Vita cannot see it; and, in view of her letters, neither can I. Had I not received her letters I could have accepted your beliefs, but those letters put the idea beyond possibility. Mr. Farlow, I am sorry. I could think of no greater delight, or honor, than having you for my son. If what Vita has done, if her course has been arranged with a view to breaking with you, then I can only say I regret more deeply than you can ever dream. All you have done, and are doing, and have dared in my interests have endeared you to an old man's heart just as surely as though you were my son. It is only very, very rarely that men meet _men_. In you and your father I have been doubly fortunate. Will you believe me when I say it? But for the rest it is not for me to decide. Your love for my daughter I realize is deep and sincere. It is for you two to settle it. But that she is in the hands of our enemies I truly and sensibly cannot believe.

I a.s.sure you there is no hint of it in her letters. One final word. You fear that I am running headlong into a trap. Do not fear for me. I have none. My submersible will convey me to safety as it has done before.”

The old man's words, so kindly spoken, so full of regard, and loyalty and courage, came without any shock or disappointment to the other. Not a muscle of his strong face moved. Nor was there a shadow of change from the determination in his dark eyes. When he began to speak, however, a dawn of a smile grew in them. It was a smile of confidence.

The att.i.tude of the other had made his purpose a shade easier.

”Then, in face of my beliefs, you will go, Prince?” he asked.

The direct challenge seemed to slightly disconcert the other. Von Hertzwohl had spoken the truth when he said that his regard for Ruxton had become as that of a parent. He felt that his reply must hurt him.

”It must be,” he said. Then he endeavored to soften his decision. ”It is best so. Best for our work; for you; for--Vita. Ach! I would like to tell you all I have in here”--he tapped his broad brow with a forefinger. ”But I cannot. I may not. Dorby has been a haven to me, and I longed to be near and witness the growth of that work which is to make impossible the vile cruelty of men, all the horrors of an indefensible slaughter. I told myself I would sit here and see my dream slowly, step by step, fulfilled. I said that you and your father were the laboring genius setting up the defence which was to serve humanity in the days to come. And in the pride and joy of my heart I told myself that mine was the brain that had conceived this merciful weapon, which I should watch grow to its final triumph. But now I know that it is not so. I may not witness the triumph of my labor here, where it is to be achieved. My presence adds jeopardy to it. It adds jeopardy to you all.

It must not be. I have made my mind up. I must go.”

Ruxton inclined his head as though in a measure of agreement.

”If it can be done in safety perhaps it is as well,” he said.

”Safety?” The wide eyes s.h.i.+ning beneath the s.h.a.ggy white brows were smiling and full of a boyish delight at the thought of adventure. ”Show me. How can it be otherwise? Have we not held the secret of our landing? Who is to know the secrets of our cove? The tides--is there a Teuton spy who would face the entrance of that cove and believe that it is free to us to enter or leave it at will? No one would believe it could serve a landing.”

”No. And you will go that way?”

”Yes. I shall leave on Sunday night. The tide will serve us at half-past six. It is then dark.”

The old man's spirits were rising at the thought of cheating his enemies. His eyes were full of guileless delight. Ruxton was regarding him with something of the same spirit lighting his own smiling eyes.

”It would seem safe enough. I can offer no objection. And yet----”

”Ach! you still fear for me,” cried the other impulsively. ”It is the obstinate English in you. Yes, yes. That temperament. You bite hard and will not let go. So.”

But Ruxton suddenly bestirred himself. He pa.s.sed the simple levity of the other by. His eyes had become serious.

”Look at it my way, sir,” he said in a deep, urgent tone. ”I have told you all I feel and fear. Suppose it was my own father, for some day I hope and believe you will become my other father. Can you not see all it means to me--your safety? I feel you are my trust, and I dare not risk unduly. Will you grant me a favor, sir--a trifling favor from your point of view? Allow me to take such measures to safeguard your going as I see fit. You shall not be made aware of that safeguarding, I promise you--except in case of the treachery I antic.i.p.ate. I shall not interfere with any plan you may have made. I will, as our naval men say, 'carry on' and 'stand by,' unseen by you and by our enemies--unless danger threatens you. It is not much to ask, and it means so much to me.”

The Prince's smile was very gentle as he watched the eager face of the other. The genuine anxiety of Ruxton appealed to him in a degree which was only reached out of his own deep regard. From any other such an appeal might have been met with ridicule. But in Ruxton it became something to be delighted in.

”Have your way,” he cried cordially. ”Do as you will, and I thank you from my heart for your solicitude. But it is needless. Believe me, it is needless.”

But Ruxton ignored his comment. His sanction was all he needed.

”Thank you, sir,” he said simply. ”Have you given your man his orders for the submersible?”

The Prince glanced down at his letter unconsciously.

”No,” he said; ”not yet.”

And Ruxton understood that his letter had decided the time of departure for him.

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