The Red Rat's Daughter

When they reached it they drove direct to an hotel. Here they breakfasted, and afterwards made their way to the steamer. Browne's heart was sinking lower and lower, for never before had Katherine seemed so sweet and so desirable. Once on board the vessel they called a steward to their assistance, and the two ladies were shown to their cabins. As they afterwards found out, they were the best that Browne could secure, were situated amidships, and were really intended each to accommodate four passengers. While they were examining them Browne hunted out the chief steward, and the stewards who would be likely to wait upon his friends. These he rewarded in such a way that, if the men only acted up to their protestations, the remainder of the passengers would have very good cause to complain. Having finished this work of bribery and corruption, he went in search of the ladies, only to be informed by the stewardess that they had left their cabins and had gone on deck. He accordingly made his way up the companion-ladder, and found them standing beside the smoking-room entrance.

"I hope you found your cabins comfortable," he said. "I have just seen the chief steward, and he has promised that everything possible shall be done to make you enjoy your voyage."

"How good you are!" said Katherine in a low voice, and with a little squeeze of his hand; while Madame protested that, if it were possible for anything to reconcile her to the sea, it would be Monsieur Browne's kindness. Then the warning whistle sounded for non-passengers to leave the ship. Madame Bernstein took the hint, and, having bade him good-bye, made her way along the deck towards the companion-ladder, leaving the lovers together. Katherine's eyes had filled with tears and she had grown visibly paler. Now that the time had come for parting with the man she loved, she had discovered how much he was to her.

"Katherine," said Browne, in a voice that was hoarse with suppressed emotion, "do you know now how much I love you?"

"You love me more than I deserve," she said. "I shall never be able to repay you for all you have done for me."

"I want no repayment but your love," he answered.

"Si vous n'êtes pas un voyageur, m'sieu, ayez l'obligeance de débarquer," said a gruff voice in his ear.

Seeing that there was nothing left but to say good-bye, Browne kissed Katherine, and, unable to bear any more, made for the gangway. Five minutes later the great ship was under way, and Katherine had embarked upon her voyage to the East.

CHAPTER XIX

As soon as the mail-boat, which was carrying Katherine and Madame Bernstein to the East, was out of sight, Browne turned to his man, who was waiting beside him, and said: "Now, Davis, a cab, and quickly too. We must not miss that train for London whatever happens."

As it was, they were only just in time. He had scarcely taken his seat before the train began to move out of the station. Placing himself in a corner of the carriage, he endeavoured to interest himself in a book; but it was of no use. Though his material body was seated in the carriage being whirled away across the green plains of Southern France, his actual self was on board the great mail-boat, which was cutting its way through the blue waters, carrying Katherine mile by mile farther out of his reach. Dreary indeed did Europe seem to him now. It was a little before twelve o'clock when the train left Marseilles; it was nearly four next afternoon when he sighted the waters of the Channel at Calais. Much to his astonishment and delight, Jimmy Foote met him at Dover, and travelled back to town with him. During his absence Browne had entrusted their arrangements to his care; and in consequence Jimmy carried about with him an air of business, which at other times was quite unusual to him.

"I have been down to Southampton," he reported, "and have seen Mason. He was hard at work getting the stores aboard, and asked me to tell you he will be able to sail without fail early on Monday morning. When do you think we had better go down?"

"On Sunday," said Browne. "We may as well get on board as soon as we can."

Though he spoke in this casual way, he knew that in his heart he was waiting the hour of departure with an impatience, that bordered almost on desperation. He longed to see the yacht's head pointed down Channel, and to know that at last she was really in pursuit of the other boat, which had been granted such a lengthy start. On reaching London they drove together to Browne's house. It was Saturday evening, and there were still a hundred and one things to be settled. Upon his study table Browne discovered upwards of fifty invitations from all sorts and conditions of people. He smiled cynically as he opened them, and, when the last one had been examined, turned to Jimmy.

"Thank Heaven, I can decline these with a clear conscience," he said. "By the time the dates come round we shall be on the high seas, far beyond the reach of dinners, dances, and kettledrums. I wonder how many of these folk," he continued, picking up one from the heap and flicking it across the table to his friend, "would have me in their houses again if they knew what I am about to do?"

"Every one of them, my boy," the other replied; "from the Duchess of Matlock downwards. You might help a thousand Russian convicts to escape from Saghalien, and they will pardon you; but you are doing one other thing for which you must never hope to be forgiven."

"And what may that be?" Browne inquired.

"Why, you are marrying Miss Petrovitch," answered Jimmy. "If she were a famous beauty, a great heiress, or even the daughter of a peer, all would be well; but you must remember that no one knows her; that, however much you may love her, and however worthy she may be, she is nevertheless not chronicled in the Court Guide. To marry out of your own circle is a sin seldom forgiven, particularly when a man is a millionaire, and has been the desire of every match-making mother for as long as you have."

"They had better treat my wife as I wish them to, or beware of me," said Browne angrily. "If they treat her badly they'll find I've got claws."

"But, my dear fellow, you are running your head against the wall," said Jimmy. "I never said they would treat her badly. On the contrary, they will treat her wonderfully well; for, remember, she is your wife. They will accept all her invitations for dances in London, will stay with her in the country; they will yacht, hunt, fish, and shoot with you; but the mothers, who, after all is said and done, are the leaders of society, will never forget or forgive you. My dear fellow," he continued, with the air of a man who knew his world thoroughly, which, to do him justice, he certainly did, "you surely do not imagine for an instant that Miss Verney has forgotten that – "

"We'll leave Miss Verney out of the question, Jimmy, if you don't mind," replied Browne, with rather a different intonation.

"I thought that would make him wince," murmured Jimmy to himself; and then added aloud, "Never mind, old man; we won't pursue the subject any further. It's not a nice one, and we've plenty else to think about, have we not? Let me tell you, I am looking forward to this little business more than I have ever done to anything. The only regret I have about it is that there does not appear to be any probability of our having some fighting. I must confess I should like to have a brush with the enemy, if possible."

"In that case we should be lost men," Browne replied. "No; whatever we do, we must avoid coming into actual conflict with the Authorities. By the way, what about Maas?"

"I saw him this morning," Foote replied. "I told him what arrangements we had made, and he will meet us whenever and wherever we wish. He seemed quite elated over the prospect of the voyage, and told me he thought it awfully good of you to take him. After all, he's not a bad sort of fellow. There is only one thing I don't like about him, and that is his predilection for wishing people to think he is in a delicate state of health."

"And you don't think he is?" said Browne.

"Of course I don't," Jimmy replied. "Why, only this morning I was with him more than an hour, and he didn't cough once; and yet he was continually pointing out to me that it was so necessary for his health – for his lungs, in fact – that he should go out of England at once. It is my idea that he is hypochondriacal."

"Whatever he is, I wish to goodness he had chosen any other time for wanting to accompany us. I have a sort of notion that his presence on board will bring us bad luck."

"Nonsense," said his matter-of-fact friend. "Why should it? Maas could do us no harm, even supposing he wanted to. And he's certain not to have any desire that way."

"Well," answered Browne, "that is what I feel, and yet I can't make out why I should do so." As he said this he pressed the ring Katharine had given him, and remembered that that was his talisman, and that she had told him that, while he wore it, he could come to no harm. With that on his finger, and his love for her in his heart, it would be wonderful indeed if he could not fulfil the task he had set himself to do.

It is strange how ignorant we are of the doings, and indeed of the very lives, of our fellow-men. I do not mean the actions which, in the broad light of day, lie in the ordinary routine of life, but those more important circumstances which are not seen, but make up, and help to weave the skein of each man's destiny. For instance, had a certain well-known official in the office of the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, who stood upon the platform of Waterloo station, waiting for the train that was to carry him to the residence of a friend at Woking, dreamt for an instant that the three gentlemen he nodded so affably to, and who were standing at the door of a saloon carriage in the same train, were leaving England next day, in order to cause considerable trouble to a Power that, at the moment had shown signs of being friendly, what would his feelings have been? He did not know it, however; so he seated himself in his comfortable smoking-carriage, lit a cigar, and read his Sunday paper, quite unconscious of the circumstances.

It was nearly eight o'clock before they readied Southampton. When they did they made their way to the harbour, where a steam-launch from the yacht was awaiting them. The Lotus Blossom herself lay off the Royal Pier; and when they reached her, Captain Mason received them at the gangway.

"Well, Mason," said Browne, "is everything ready for the start to-morrow?"

"Everything is ready, sir," Mason replied. "You have only to say when you desire to get off, and we'll up anchor."

Browne thought that he would like to get under way at once; but it could not be. He looked along the snow-white decks and upon the polished brasswork, and thought of the day that he had left the boat when she was anchored in the harbour of Merok, to accompany his guests on their walk to the falls, and of the wonderful things that had happened since then. Before many weeks had passed over their heads he hoped that Katherine herself would be standing on these self-same decks. He pictured the delight he would feel in showing her over his trim and beautiful vessel, and thought of the long conversations they would have on deck at night, and of the happiness they would feel when they were speeding towards safety once more, with the rescued man on board. What they were to do with her father, when they had got him, was one thing he wanted to leave to Katherine to decide. He was awakened from these dreams by Foote, who inquired whether he intended to allow his guests to remain on deck all night, or whether he was going to take them below.

"I beg your pardon," said Browne. "It's awfully rude of me to keep you standing here like this. Come along."

They accordingly made their way down the companion-ladder to the saloon below. Everything had been prepared for their reception, and the stewards were already laying dinner as they entered. Having finished that important meal, and drunk the toast of a pleasant voyage, they ascended to the deck once more, when Foote and Maas made their way to the smoking-room, while Browne went up to the bridge to have a talk with the captain. When he descended again, he announced to his guests that the yacht would be got under way as soon as it was light in the morning, and that the first coaling-place would be Gibraltar.

"Bravo!" said Jimmy, rapping the table with his pipe. "Thank goodness, by midday we shall be well out in the Channel."

At the same moment Maas's cigar slipped from between his fingers and dropped on the floor. He bent down to pick it up, but at first could not find it. By the time he had done so the conversation had changed, and Browne had drawn his watch from his pocket. A cry of astonishment escaped him: "Have you any idea what the time is?"

They confessed that they had not.

"Well, it's nearly twelve o'clock," he said. "If you won't either of you take anything else, I think the best thing we can do is to get to bed as soon as possible."

So tired was Browne that night that he slept without waking until well on in the following morning. Indeed, it was past nine o'clock when Davis, his man-servant, entered and woke him; he sat up, and rubbed his eyes, as if he could very well have gone on sleeping for another hour or two.

"By Jove! we're under way," he said, as if he were surprised to find the yacht moving. "Where are we, Davis?"

"Off Swanage, sir," the man replied. "Captain Mason couldn't get away quite as early as he hoped to do; but he's making up for lost time now, sir."

"What sort of a day is it?" Browne inquired.

"Beautiful, sir; it couldn't be no better if you'd ordered it special," said Davis, who was a bit of a wag in his way, and was privileged as such. "There's just a nice bit of swell running, but no more. Not enough to shake the curls of a schoolmistress, in a manner of speaking."

This Browne discovered to be the case, when he ascended to the deck. The yacht was bathed in sunshine, and she sat as softly as a duck upon a large green swell, that was as easy as the motion of a rocking-horse. Far away to starboard the pinewood cliffs of Bournemouth could be descried; while a point on the starboard-bow was Poole Harbour and Swanage headland, with Old Harry peering up out of the sunlit waves. Browne ascended to the bridge, to find Foote and Captain Mason there. The latter touched his cap, while Foote came forward and held out his hand.

"Good-morning," said Jimmy. "What do you think of this, my boy? Isn't it better than London? Doesn't it make you feel it's worth something to be alive? I wouldn't change places this morning with any man in England."

"And you may be very sure I would not," said Browne; then, turning to the skipper, he inquired what the yacht was doing.

"Thirteen knots good, sir," the latter replied. "We shall do better, however, when we've put Portland Bill behind us."

As he spoke the breakfast-bell sounded, and simultaneously with it Maas appeared on deck. Browne and Foote descended from the bridge to greet him, and found him in excellent spirits.

"I feel better already," he said, as they went down the companion-ladder and took their places at the table. "How beautiful the air is on deck! Alchemists may say what they please, but this is the Elixir of Life. What a pity it is we cannot bottle it, and introduce it into the crowded ballrooms and dining-rooms during the London season!"

"That's rather an original notion," retorted Jimmy. "Fancy, after a waltz with a heavy partner, taking her off to a room set apart for the purpose, seating her in a chair, and, instead of asking her the usual insipid question, whether she would have an ice, or coffee, or claret cup, inquiring what brand of air she preferred – whether she would have a gallon of Bournemouth, which is relaxing, or Margate, which is bracing, or Folkestone – shall we say? – which is midway between the two. It could be laid on in town and country houses, and, combined with the phonograph, which would repeat the nigger minstrel melodies of the sands, and the biograph, which would show the surrounding scenery, would be a tremendous attraction. Having purchased one of these machines, paterfamilias need not trouble his head about taking his family away for the annual trip to the seaside. Rents would not affect him; he would be free from landladies' overcharges. All he would have to do would be to take his wife and bairns into a room, turn on the various machines, and science would do the rest."

"Perhaps, when you have done talking nonsense," said Browne, "you will be kind enough to hand me the pâté de foie gras. I remember so many of your wonderful schemes, Jimmy, that I begin to think I know them all by heart."

"In that case you must admit that the majority of them were based upon very sound principles," replied Jimmy. "I remember there was one that might have made a fortune for anybody. It was to be a matrimonial registry for the upper ten, where intending Benedicts could apply for particulars respecting their future wives. For instance, the Duke of A – , being very desirous of marrying, and being also notoriously impecunious, would call at the office and ask for a choice of American heiresses possessing between five and ten millions. Photographs having been submitted to him, and a guarantee as to the money given to him, meetings between the parties could be arranged by the company, and a small commission charged when the marriage was duly solemnized. Then there was another scheme for educating the sons of millionaires in the brands of cigars they should give their friends. For a small commission, Viscount B – , who has smoked himself into the bankruptcy court, would call at their residences three times a week, when he would not only show them how to discriminate between a Trichinopoli and a Burma Pwé, which is difficult to the uninitiated, but also between La Intimidad Excelsos of '94 and Henry Clay Soberanos, which is much more so."

"I remember yet another scheme," said Maas quietly, as he helped himself to some caviare from a dish before him. "You told me once of a scheme you were perfecting for forming a company to help long-sentenced burglars of proved ability to escape from penal servitude, in order that they should work for the society on the co-operative principle. If my memory serves me, it was to be a most remunerative speculation. The only flaw in it that I could see was the difficulty in arranging the convict's escape, and the danger, that would accrue to those helping him, in case they were discovered."

CHAPTER XX

Had a bombshell fallen through the skylight of the saloon and settled itself in the centre of the table, it could scarcely have caused greater consternation than did Maas's simple remark. Browne felt that his face was visibly paling, and that guilt must be written on every inch of it. As for Jimmy, his mouth opened and shut like that of an expiring fish. He could scarcely believe he had heard aright. He had certainly once in an idle moment joked in the fashion Maas had attributed to him; but what had induced the latter to remember and to bring it up now, of all times, when their nerves were so tightly stretched? Maas's face, however, was all innocence. He seemed not to have noticed the amazement he had caused, but ate his caviare with the air of a man who had said something worthy, the point of which had fallen a trifle flat. It was not until the meal was over, and they had ascended to the deck once more, that Browne found an opportunity of having a few words with Jimmy.

"What on earth did he mean by that?" he asked. "Do you think he can have heard anything? Or do you think he only suspects?"

"Neither," said Jimmy. "I'll tell you what I think it was; it was a perfectly simple remark, which by sheer ill-luck just happened to touch us in the wrong place. It was, as the shooters say, an unintentional bull's-eye. But, by Jove! I must confess that it made me feel pretty bad at the moment."

"Then you think we need not attach any importance to it?"

"I'm quite sure we need not," his friend replied. "Look at it in this way: if the man had known anything he most certainly would not have said anything about it. If we had suspected him of knowing our secret, and had put ourselves out in order to bring him to the point, and he had kept silence, then we might have thought otherwise; as it is, I am positive we need not be afraid."

As if to reassure them, Maas said nothing further on the subject. He was full of good-humour, absorbed the sunshine like a Neapolitan, and seemed to enjoy every hour he lived. He also did his best to make the others do likewise. He talked upon every conceivable subject, and did not feel in the least annoyed when the others appeared occupied. They passed Plymouth soon after twelve next day, and said good-bye to Old England shortly afterwards. How little those on board guessed what was to happen before they could see her shores again? Five days later they were at Gibraltar, anchored in the harbour beneath the shadow of the batteries. Though he grudged every minute, and though he had seen the Rock a dozen times before, Browne accompanied them ashore, explored the Galleries, and lunched at the Officers' Mess.

"What rum beggars we are, to be sure!" said young Bramthwaite, of the 43rd Midlandshire, to Browne, as they lit their cigars afterwards. "Here are you, posting off for the East, and as anxious as you can be to turn your back on Old England; while I, poor beggar, am quartered here, and am longing to get home with all my might and main. Do you think, if I had your chance, I would go abroad? Not I."

"Circumstances alter cases," returned Browne. "If you were in my place you would want to be out of England. You should just have seen London as we left. Fogs, sleet, snow, drizzle, day after day, while here you are wrapped in continual sunshine. I don't see that you have much to grumble at."

"Don't you?" said his friend. "Well, I do. Let us take my own case again. I am just up from a baddish attack of Rock-fever. I feel as weak as a cat – not fit for anything. And what good does it do me? I don't even have the luck to be properly ill, so that I could compel them to invalid me. And, to make matters worse, my brother writes that they are having the most ripping hunting in the shires; from his letters I gather that the pheasants have never been better; and, with it all, here I am, like the Johnny in the heathen mythology, chained to this rock, and unable to get away."

Browne consoled him to the best of his ability, and shortly afterwards collected his party and returned to the yacht. The work of coaling was completed, and Captain Mason, who resembled a badly blacked Christy Minstrel, was ready to start as soon as his owner desired. Browne, nothing loath, gave the order, and accordingly they steamed out of the harbour, past the Rock, and were in blue seas once more. They would not touch anywhere again until they reached Port Said.

That night on deck Browne was lamenting the fact that the yacht did not travel faster than she did.

"My dear fellow," said Maas, "what a hurry you are in, to be sure! Why, this is simply delightful. What more could you wish for? You have a beautiful vessel, your cook is a genius, and your wines are perfect. If I had your money, do you know what I would do? I would sail up and down the Mediterranean at this time of the year for months on end."

"I don't think you would," replied Browne. "In the meantime, what I want is to get to Japan."

"I presume your fiancée is to meet you there?" said Maas. "I can quite understand your haste now."

There was a silence for a few moments, and then Maas added, as if the idea had just struck him: "By the way, you have never told me her name."

"Her name is Petrovitch," answered Browne softly, as if the name were too precious to be breathed aloud. "I do not think you have ever met her."

"Now I come to think of it, I believe I have," Maas responded. "At least, I am not acquainted with her personally, but I have met some one who knows her fairly well."

"Indeed!" said Browne, in some astonishment. "And who might that some one be?"

"You need not be jealous, my dear fellow," Maas continued. "My friend was a lady, a Miss Corniquet, a French artist. Miss Petrovitch, I believe, exhibited in the Salon last year, and they met shortly afterwards. I remember that she informed me that the young lady in question showed remarkable talent. I am sure, Browne, I congratulate you heartily."