CHAPTER II
ADIEU
It was growing late and the _fete_ was in full swing when Saltashsauntered down again under the cypress-trees to the water's edge. The seawas breaking with a murmurous splashing; it was a night for dreams.
In the flower-decked bandstand an orchestra of stringed instruments wasplaying very softly--fairy-music that seemed to fill the world with magicto the brim. It was like a drug to the senses, alluring, intoxicating,maddeningly sweet.
Saltash wandered along with his face to the water on which a myriadcoloured lights rocked and swam. And still his features wore thatmonkeyish look of unrest, of discontent and quizzical irony oddlymingled. He felt the lure, but it was not strong enough. Its influencehad lost its potency.
He need not have been alone. He had left the hotel with friends, but hehad drifted away from them in the crowd. One of them--a girl--had soughtsomewhat palpably to keep him near her, and he had responded with someshow of ardour for a time, and then something about her had struck a noteof discord within him and the glamour had faded.
"Little fool!" he murmured to himself. "She'd give me her heart to breakif I'd have it."
And then he laughed in sheer ridicule of his own jaded senses. Herecognized the indifference of satiety. An easy conquest no longerattracted him.
He began to stroll towards the quay, loitering here and there as if togive to Fates a chance to keep him if they would. Yes, Sheila Melrose wasa little idiot. Why couldn't she realize that she was but one of thehundreds with whom he flirted day by day? She was nothing to him but apastime--a toy to amuse his wayward mood. He had outgrown his earlierpropensity to break his toys when he had done with them. The sight of abroken toy revolted him now.
He was impatiently aware that the girl was watching him from the midst ofthe shifting crowd. What did she expect, he asked himself irritably? Sheknew him. She knew his reputation. Did she imagine herself the sort ofwoman to hold a man of his stamp for more than the passing moment? Savefor his title and estates, was he worth the holding?
A group of laughing Italian girls with kerchiefs on their headssurrounded him suddenly and he became the centre of a shower--a storm--of_confetti_. His mood changed in a second. He would show her what toexpect! Without an instant's pause he turned upon his assailants, caughtthe one nearest to him, snatching her off her feet; and, gripping herwithout mercy, he kissed her fierily and shamelessly till she gasped withdelicious fright; then dropped her and seized another.
The girls of Valrosa spoke of the ugly Englishman with bated breath andshining eyes long after Saltash had gone his unheeding way, for the bloodwas hot in his veins before the game was over. If the magic had been slowto work, its spell was all the more compelling when it gripped him.Characteristically, he tossed aside all considerations beyond thegratification of the moment's desire. The sinking fire of youth blazed upafresh. He would get the utmost out of this last night of revelry.Wherever he went, a spirit of wild daring, of fevered gaiety, surroundedhim. He was no longer alone, whichever way he turned. Once in his madprogress he met Sheila Melrose face to face, and she drew back from himin open disgust. He laughed at her maliciously, mockingly, as his royalforefather might have laughed long ago, and passed on with the throng.
Hours later, when the _fete_ was over and the shore quite silent underthe stars, he came alone along the quay, moving with his own peculiararrogance of bearing, a cigarette between his lips, a deep gleam in hiseyes. It had been an amusing night after all.
Crossing the gangway to his yacht--_The Night Moth_--that rocked softlyon the glimmering ripples, he paused for a moment and turned his face asif in farewell towards the little town that lay sleeping among itscypress-trees. So standing, he heard again the tinkle of a lute from somehidden garden of delight. It was as if the magic were still calling tohim, luring him, reaching out white arms to hold him. He made a brief bowtowards the sound.
"_Adieu_, most exquisite and most wicked!" he said. "I return--no more!"
The cigarette fell from his lips into the dark water and there came afaint sound like the hiss of a serpent in the stillness. He laughed as heheard it, and pursued his way aboard the yacht.
He found a young sailor, evidently posted to await his coming, snoring ina corner, and shook him awake.
The man blundered up with a confused apology, and Saltash laughed at himderisively.
"Wasting the magic hours in sleep, Parker? Well, I suppose dreams arebetter than nothing. Were they--good dreams?"
"I don't know, my lord," said Parker, grinning foolishly.
Saltash clapped him on the shoulder and turned away. "Well, I'm ready forthe open sea now," he said. "We'll leave our dreams behind."
He was always on easy terms with his sailors who worshipped him to a man.
He whistled a careless air as he went below. The magic of Valrosa hadloosed its hold, and he was thinking of the wide ocean and buffetingwaves that awaited him. He turned on the lights of the saloon and stoppedthere for another cigarette and a drink, first walking to and fro,finally flinging himself on a crimson velvet settee and surrenderinghimself luxuriously to a repose for which he had not felt the need untilthat moment.
So lying, he heard the stir and tramp of feet above him, the voices ofmen, the lifting of the gangway; and presently the yacht began to throbas though suddenly endowed with life. He felt the heave of the sea as sheleft her moorings, and the rush of water pouring past her keel as shedrew away from the quay.
He stretched himself with lazy enjoyment. It was good to come and go ashe listed, good to have no ties to bind him. He supposed he would alwaysbe a wanderer on the face of the earth, and after all wandering suitedhim best. True, there were occasions on which the thought of home alluredhim. The idea of marriage with some woman who loved him would spring likea beacon out of the night in moments of depression. Other men found apermanent abiding-place and were content therewith; why not he? But heonly played with the notion. It did not seriously attract him. He was nota marrying man, and, as he had said to Larpent, the woman did not existwho could hold him. The bare thought of Sheila Melrose sent a mockingsmile to his lips. Did she think--did she really think--that shepossessed the necessary qualifications to capture a man of hisexperience? He dismissed her with a snap of the fingers. Sheila hadpractically everything in life to learn, and he did not propose to be herteacher.
His cigarette was finished and he got up. The yacht was speeding like awinged thing on her way. There was never any fuss of departure whenLarpent was in command. He stood for a few seconds in indecision,contemplating going up on to the bridge for a word with his captain and aglance round. But some fantastic scruple deterred him. He had made hisfarewell. He did not wish to see Valrosa again. He turned instead andwent to his cabin.
All the appointments of the yacht were of the most luxurious order. Shepossessed every imaginable contrivance for the comfort of those whovoyaged in her. Her state-cabins were a miracle of elegance and ease.
Saltash never took a valet when he went for a voyage. The stewardattended to his clothes, and he waited on himself. He liked as much spaceas he could get both on deck and below.
He pushed open the door of his cabin and felt for the switch of theelectric light. But he did not press it when he found it. Something madehim change his mind. The faint light of stars upon rippling water cameto him through the open porthole, and he shut himself in and steppedforward to the couch beneath it to look forth.
But as he moved, another influence caught him, and he stopped short.
"Is anyone here?" he said.
Through the wash of the water he thought he heard a light movement, andhe felt a presence as of some small animal in the space before him.
Swiftly he stepped back and in a moment his hand was on the switch. Thelight flashed on, and in a moment he stood staring--at a fair-haired,white-faced lad in a brown livery with brass buttons who stood staringback at him with wide, scared eyes.
Charles Rex Page 2