The Duke Decides
Page 2
CHAPTER II--_On Board the_ St. Paul
The _St. Paul_ sped eastwards across the summer sea, and surely of allthe human hopes and fears carried by the great liner those locked in thebreast of the new Duke were the most momentous. To gain a littlebreathing time, he had booked his passage as plain Charles Hanbury. Inthe brief interval before sailing he had seen no more of Jevons, but heguessed that that shrewd practitioner would have watched him, or had himwatched, on board, even if there was not a spy upon him among hisfellow-passengers; and he wished to let it be inferred that his voyagewas undertaken solely in observance of the compact made in the Bowerydive.
For as yet he was by no means certain of his attitude towards thatcompact. It was true that the cast-off wastrel of two days ago was nowone of the premier peers of England, hastening home to take possessionof his fortune and estates. But where was the good of being a duke ifyou were to be a dead duke? he argued with a cynicism bred of hismisfortunes rather than innate. There had been a genuine ring about theproposal of Jevons that left no doubt as to the reality of the menaceheld out; the man's reluctance in broaching the penalty of desertioncarried conviction that it was no mere flower of speech.
On the whole, the Duke was inclined to call on the arch rogue at theHotel Cecil before incurring a risk that might render his dukedom atransitory possession. Then, if the part he was expected to play provedto be within his powers and without much chance of detection, he mightstill elect to play it, and so enjoy in security his hereditaryprivileges.
It will be seen that the seventh Duke of Beaumanoir was not troubledwith moral scruples, and that the principle of _noblesse oblige_ had noplace as yet in his somewhat seared philosophy. It was enough for themoment that he had gained something worth having and keeping, and hemeant to have it and keep it by the most efficacious method. Whetherthat method would prove to be connivance in a gigantic crime or thedenouncement of the latter to Scotland Yard could only be decided by apersonal interview with the mysterious Ziegler. Yes, he would pay thatvisit to the Hotel Cecil, at any rate, and be guided by what passedthere as to his future course of action.
"A penny for your thoughts, Mr. Hanbury," said a gay voice at his elbow,as on the third day of the voyage he leaned over the rail of thepromenade deck and ruminated on his dilemma. Wheeling round he lookeddown into the laughing eyes of a girl, a very dainty and charming girl,who sat next him at the saloon table. No formal introduction had takenplace between them, for lack of mutual friends; but he had learned fromthe card designating her place at table that she was Miss LeonieSherman, and it is to be presumed that she had gathered his name in thesame way.
"I will earn that penny," he said with mock gravity. "I was debating howfar one might legitimately carry the principle of doing evil that goodmight come."
It was a strange answer to make to a shipboard acquaintance of threedays, and Miss Sherman regarded him with a newly awakened interest.
"It depends," she said, "whether the good is to accrue to yourself or toother people."
"Oh, to myself," he replied, smiling. "I am not a philanthropist--quitethe other way about."
"Then, whatever it is, you oughtn't to do it," said the girl, decidedly."It will be horrid of you to as much as contemplate anything of thekind. You had much better do good lest evil befall; and the opportunityoccurs right here, at this very moment."
"I shall be most happy--without prejudice to my intentions as to thereverse of the medal," said Beaumanoir, lightly.
"Then help me to avoid a lecture from my mother by taking me for apromenade," proceeded Leonie, indicating a portly lady who had ascendedfrom the lower deck and was peering about in search. "She is the bestand dearest of mothers, but she has set her heart on a vain thing, andit is becoming the least bit tiresome. I can see that she is going todin it into me again, if she catches me. Her idea is that the sole dutyof an American girl going to England is to 'spread herself,' as they sayout West, to marry an English duke."
His Grace of Beaumanoir listened with an unmoved countenance.
"Yes," he said, "to marry a duke might--probably would--be anunmitigated evil. I will help you to avoid it with pleasure. Let us walkby all means, Miss Sherman, if you don't mind my awkward limp."
So they joined the procession of promenaders, and there and thencemented a friendship which ripened quickly, as friendships between theopposite sexes do at sea. The haughty salesladies of the dry-goods storehad not deigned to notice the counting-house drudge, and Leonie'spiquant beauty made instant captive of one who had been deprived of thesociety of women for over a year. She had all the frank _camaraderie_ ofthe well-bred American, and her eager anticipations of the good time shewas to have in Europe were infectious. In her company Beaumanoir wasable to forget the dark shadow hanging over him, and to give himself upto the enjoyment of the hour. He began by being deeply grateful to herfor taking him out of himself; and gratitude to a charming girl with aravishing figure and a complexion of tinted ivory is like to have itsheels trod by a warmer sentiment.
Leonie, in her turn, was interested in the reserved young Englishman,who had so little to say about his doings in America, and less about hisposition and prospects in his native land. As he paced with his slightlimp at her side or lounged with her at the rail, she tried to draw himout; but she could get nothing from him but that he had been in New Yorkon business, and that business was taking him home. Yet, though reticenton his own affairs, he talked freely about all that concerned herself,and painted vivid word-pictures of the delights that awaited her inLondon.
The girl, having nothing to conceal, told him freely of herself and ofher plans and projects. She and her mother were going to stay withEnglish friends in London till the end of the season, when perhaps theywould run over to Paris and Rome for a month before returning to Americain the autumn. Her father, Senator Sherman, was to have accompaniedthem; but he had been detained by public business at Washington, and wasto join them a little later in London.
On the fifth day of the voyage, as the _St. Paul_ was approaching theIrish coast, Leonie and Beaumanoir were sitting on deck after dinner,chatting in the twilight, when she suddenly laid her hand on his arm.
"I want you to notice that man who has just gone by--the one smoking thefag-end of a cigar in a holder," she whispered, with a gesture towardsthe stream of passengers passing and repassing between the rows ofchairs.
Beaumanoir's gaze followed her indication to an insignificant littlefigure in a brown covert-coat and tweed cap.
"Yes. What of him?" he asked. He had not spoken to this passenger, butnow that attention was called to him he had an idea that the fellow hadloomed largely during the last few days.
"That man is watching you, Mr. Hanbury," replied Leonie with conviction."I wonder you haven't observed it yourself. Whenever you are talking hehangs about trying to listen; when you are on deck he is on deck; if yougo below, he goes below. If you were a fugitive from justice, and he adetective, he couldn't shadow you more closely."
The Duke winced inwardly.
"I am not a fugitive from justice," he said, with the mental addition of"yet." He could not tell this laughing maiden that the man was probablyspying on him in the interest, not of justice, but of crime--to see thathe was true to a pledge to place forged bonds; for now that he had beenput on his guard he had no doubt that his pretty informant was right.The stranger occupied the cabin next to him, and was always hoveringnear him in the smoking-room, unobtrusively but persistently.
Thanking the girl for her warning in a careless tone that implied thathe had no reason to be anxious, he changed the subject. But before heturned in that night he made it his business to ascertain from hisbedroom steward the name of his next-door neighbor, which proved to beMarker.
"Probably Mr. Marker's functions are confined to espionage. If that is asample of the sort of bravo to be employed should I kick over thetraces, I haven't much to fear," he reflected, as he switched off theelectric light and composed himself to dream of Leonie Sherman.