CHAPTER XII
MANLING ON BOARD
Ethel Varris awoke the next morning with a strange and unusual giddiness and lightness of head, which she attributed at first to the motion of the ship. But, as she looked out her port, she saw that the sea was still quite smooth and the vessel was ploughing through it steadily and easily.
For an instant she wondered at the strangeness of the feeling; but, as it began to wear away rapidly as she arose and went out to her bath, she dismissed it and hastened with her dressing.
As she came back from her morning tub, however, the vague feeling of something strange or missing came to her as she bent before her cabin mirror; but in another moment she had thrown it off once more, and was hastening out to the reassurance and the invigoration of the fresh salt breeze blowing the length of the deck.
Under the animation of that crisp air, she decided finally that her feeling upon awakening had been due to the strangeness of travelling alone, and though, somehow, that explanation did not entirely satisfy her, it relieved her mind enough to make her the cheery one the moment later as she encountered young Preston at the bow.
"These big 'wireless' boats," she said sympathetically as, after the first greetings, the American stood staring disconsolately again at the flashing sea, "they never let one get well away from trouble, even upon the ocean, do they?"
Preston turned upon her quickly.
"I beg your pardon, Miss Varris," he apologized, as the girl showed her slight surprise at his gesture, "but really you now are almost as cheerful as Mr. Dunneston was yesterday just before you came up. He almost convinced me, you know, that I had taken to the sea solely to flee from trouble which the 'wireless' will surely bring upon me anyway. And this morning you are suggesting almost precisely the same thing."
"Oh, I didn't mean to, please!" the girl laughed. "In fact I was not thinking of your trouble; I was thinking of my own case. Last night, just before I went to sleep, the 'wireless' brought me the comforting assurance that mother is never going to forgive my aunt, her own sister, for being taken ill at Brighton. I hope yours is nothing worse."
"Oh, but it is, Miss Varris!" Preston responded, trying to appear more hopeless. "Much worse! But I can't blame mine upon Marconi."
"You mean something has happened here on board?"
"Yes, Miss Varris."
"What?"
"Listen," he prepared her solemnly. "Miss Varris, the Englishman's—Mr. Dunneston's—shirt and sleeve buttons have been stolen!"
The girl gazed at him steadily.
"Oh, is that all?" she asked.
"Oh, no; the pool which I won was stolen, too," Preston hurried over the trifles lightly, "and mine and Mr. Dunneston's watch and a few other odd pounds from me, as well as about forty pounds from him, too. But, Miss Varris, think of—I mean, fancy one losing his shirt and sleeve buttons, can you?"
"Why?" the girl inquired, puzzled. "What were the buttons made of? What were they worth? Why—why, I heard that there was almost a thousand dollars in your pool!"
"Gold, plain gold. They were worth maybe a pound. And there were four thousand shillings, or just about a thousand dollars in the pool. But please don't be so shockingly American and mercenary," he went on with superior surprise. "Be British, and look at losses from their inconvenience, not their value, and consider the sleeve buttons! What is the loss of a mere twelve hundred dollars in vulgar value to the shocking state of finding one's self out sleeve buttons? Besides, you see, I think he had rather counted upon losing his other things anyway," young Preston explained. "He had sort of conceded them, I guess. But he hadn't thought I would take the sleeve buttons, too; that was what hurt!"
"What do you mean, Mr. Preston?" the girl questioned. "He had sort of conceded his other things—to you?"
"Oh, that's so; I haven't told you, of course. But he has found out," the American explained, "that, after all, you really did not know me before we met on the ship, and so, of course, he lost his last reluctance to connect me with those diverting little larcenies which so enlivened the cathedral towns this summer, ending with that playful little shanghai-ing at Plymouth.
"You see, Miss Varris, the only thing which stuck him to-day, after he heard about our Polporru episode, was his understanding of your statement at Ely, that you and your mother had known me well in America. So, when I was getting ready for bed, he set about clearing that matter up finally. He asked me where I lived before I went West to work. I told him in Minnesota."
"Did that mean anything to him?" the girl asked knowingly as her companion paused.
"Not much. You know, I told you that he has crossed the Atlantic no end of times; and he has been around the world about three times, too. But he's one of those true Britons who cling to British soil, and so make for Montreal direct from the dock and cross the continent on the Canadian Pacific and sail from Vancouver. No; I wrong him. Once he had to save time, so he did patronize the States. He travelled in our country four whole days, as the train couldn't make San Francisco quicker than that. And he stopped in Chicago, too—three hours, for he knows all about the silver dollars in the floor of the Palmer House barber shop. But aside from that vital fact, I must confess that most of the rest of his American information is Canadian. So, when I told him my family lived in Minnesota, he tried to recall whether that was a city, an Indian reservation, or what, but finally did recall that it was one of our 'provinces.' I let it go at that. And then he wanted to know where you lived."
"Where I lived?"
"Yes. I told him Philadelphia, and he knew where that was. He had a relative there for a while, he said. But you wouldn't know him, Miss Varris. He was a captain in Howe's army—that was back in 1777, or some time then. I think Mr. Dunneston is under the impression that Philadelphia is still the capital of our States. But anyway, he knows where it is."
"Good. And so?" the girl urged on.
"Oh, he gathered then, after a bit, that as my family lived in St. Paul and yours in Philadelphia our places could not be exactly contiguous in any true sense. And then by getting me to admit that our families could scarcely have known each other in the days of Ethelwolf the Saxon, or even at the Conquest, or even, indeed, in our own colonial days, he finally drew from me that I had first met you upon the Britannia coming over.
"When I finally had to admit that unequivocally, he reached out sort of hopelessly for his watch and placed it with his other things under his pillow, and then this morning—"
"Yes," the girl said impatiently, "this morning?"
"Well, first thing this morning," Preston continued, "when bath steward knocks me up, I find old Dunneston in his pajamas poking about the floor, under the lounge, and even into the wash basins.
"I asked him what the racket was, and he took a last reluctant gaze under the towel rack, felt in all the shoes, and then came out with it.
"'Really, Mr. Preston,' he started off,—and you know how he says it. 'Really, Mr. Preston, I dislike to mention it after the—aw—unfortunately false character of your alibi at Polporru,' he said regretfully, 'but actually, you know, my sleeve and shirt buttons have quite entirely vanished.'
"After such preparation as that, I had to laugh a little.
"'That all?' I asked.
"'Oh, I fancy my watch and some forty odd pounds or so have rather been taken too,' he said cheerfully, as if he had, as I said, conceded those some time before, 'but, you know, one has no great need of a watch aboard ship, and one can cash credit for any necessary funds. But, really, you know,' he rebuked me mildly as I would any one who, meaning well enough, had just gone a little too far, 'one can't quite manage it well without sleeve buttons, can one, what? Unless,' he picked up a gleam of hope at last, 'do you fancy the barber might carry them?'
"'I certainly hope so,' I said earnestly, but probably without the right amount of vital concern, as I felt for my own things.
"'Hello,' I said. 'Mine are gone, too!'
"'No,' he said in a hurt tone, 'yours are all here!'
"'Where?' I asked.
"'There in your shirt—mine were quite all drawn out!' he wailed, as though they were his teeth.
"'Oh, the studs and buttons!' I laughed at him. 'I meant my watch and money—the pool and all—are gone too!'
"That stuck him for a moment, and he almost forgot to poke about for his studs while he looked me over uncertainly. Then: 'Of course,' he said, as calmly as though it were a part of the ship's drill to remove a watch and a thousand dollars each morning from every berth, 'but your buttons are here!'
"The discrimination in that seemed to grieve him so that I thought he would cry, so I jumped down and rang the bell.
"'Steward—aw—steward.' I let Dunneston go at him first when the man came. 'I say, do you know, steward, whether the barber could furnish me—aw—cuff and shirt buttons? I seem to have brought but the one set, steward, and they are quite gone. But you need fetch only the sleeve buttons now, steward. I shan't require the others till evening.'
"'Steward!' I called as soon as I recovered. 'Wait a minute. Do you know whether the barber—I mean, steward, my watch and about twelve hundred dollars, or two hundred pounds and some over, were taken from my berth last night, steward!'
"Looked for some interest, at least out of him. But of course he was British, too.
"'Thank you, sir; very good, sir,' he acknowledged gratefully enough. 'But I must fetch this gentleman the sleeve buttons first, sir,' he corrected me.
"'But I am not asking for hot water or—or sleeve buttons, steward,' I said as calmly as I could. 'I tell you my watch and over a thousand dollars, or two hundred of your crazy pounds, were stolen from me last night.'
"'Of course, sir! And very good, sir!' he assured me again. 'But this gentleman spoke to me first!' he corrected again patiently.
"'Oh, excuse me,' I apologized, falling in with their mood as gracefully as I could. 'Of course, he ordered first. But bring along my thousand—I mean my two hundred pounds, as soon as you can, steward.'
"He agreed affably and started off, but he slipped up on his national training somewhere, for pretty soon he was back without the pool, but with the head steward, the foot steward, the table and the deck stewards, the purser, the freight clerk, and about every other higher critic out of bed except the chef. But what is the matter, Miss Varris?" Preston asked suddenly, as he watched the girl with quick alarm. "What is it?"
The girl was suddenly rubbing her gloved hands together and feeling her fingers beneath the kid. And quickly then she caught at her breast and throat and fumbled under the cloth. She paled an instant and then forced a smile.
"Oh—nothing," she said. "I beg your pardon. You were saying the stewards and the purser—what did they do?"
"Oh, they asked us to refer it to the captain at ten o'clock this morning," Preston answered mechanically, still watching her. "But I am afraid Mr. Dunneston's lost interest. The purser has lent him sleeve buttons and promised him studs, too, if he can't recover his own before night. But—what is it, Miss Varris?"
The girl smiled bravely.
"Oh, I was wondering," she said, "if—if it might not help—Mr. Dunneston's interest in this if he knew that—the French chamois bag in which I was carrying my money and some stones and things which mother bought me in London and I was taking home and wearing about my neck, was cut away last night, I believe, and—and, Mr. Preston, doesn't chloroform, or some other anæsthetic give a funny queerness and headache in the morning?"
"You mean," Preston started up, his hands clenching, "that you were chloroformed and robbed, too, last night? Why, this—"
"Look, Mr. Preston!" the girl interrupted. "Here comes our English friend now. Really," she had recovered herself again and went on lightly, "he seems interested—at least, slightly!"
"Good-morning!" The Englishman had first a courtly bow for the girl. "Aw—Mr. Preston," he said, restraining the calm tone of his triumph, "the captain was sending down to our cabin not a moment ago to consult with you and me. He has just received, as I had rather anticipated, a 'wireless' communication from the shore."
"A 'wireless' from the shore? About what?" the American asked.
"It seems that the police have discovered as—aw—I rather anticipated that they might," the Englishman replied, "and as I—aw—indicated to you yesterday, Mr. Preston, that Mr. Manling sailed from Southampton with us and is on board!"
"Yes. I saw you considered that confirmed this morning, even before the captain could have received his 'wireless,' Mr. Dunneston, when you missed your sleeve buttons and, of course, you considered I had concealed my own things for a blind. But tell me, Mr. Dunneston, have you heard what happened to Miss Varris last night? How, sir, will you consider that?"
"What, Mr. Preston?" the Englishman demanded eagerly. "I say, what happened to you last night, Miss Varris?"
The girl gave him the matter rapidly.
"Chloroformed as well as robbed, you think? I say, shocking this! I beg your pardon again and, I hope, for the last time, Mr. Preston," the Englishman extended his hand to the young American when he had heard. "For, I say, robbing her after what I myself had seen would be impossible enough, Mr. Preston; but the chloroforming, too, makes it entirely prohibitive, I say, what? So a pardon again, sir! But in another way, rather promising, this last development, what? Rather promising! But I have your pardon, Mr. Preston; you know rather that I always hoped it wasn't you. I say, I always hoped it!"
"I know you did," the young American received the amends. "I told Miss Varris that I really believed you hoped it wasn't I, though you couldn't honestly think it."
"Quite so!" The Englishman closed that matter. "But since it can't be you, that gives something rather good, now, for the voyage, what? And, I say, I was fearing a dull passage, too! But here we are! We have on the same ship with us now the man who has been using us all summer. And, I say, first he was impudent enough to show us, in his most characteristic way, that he is here; and then we receive independent confirmation of it from the police. And dull this, you know, if he could be you, Mr. Preston. But since he can't be—rather good now, what? But come, Mr. Preston, we must report to the captain."
"And may I report what you have just told me to the captain for you, Miss Varris?" the American asked.
"Please do. And—"
"But come, Mr. Preston," the Englishman exclaimed, with delighted impatience at the promise which affairs now held for him. "I say, we can suggest something to liven the trip a bit? Have you thought, what?"