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8
Cyn t h ia-of-the-M mute
Copyright 79// By Louis Joseph Vance
(Continuation of Chaptar XTXU.)
“It has struck me once or twice."
Cynthia suggested. “that his accent
•was a wee bit too careful —a trifle
overdone.”.
"Whereas a true British accent is a
xare thing—and precious one?" Critten
den laughed light-heartedly. "True for
you. However, well soon kn<jw every-,
thin® good for us to know. Now,
thenl”
They broke for the last time from
the sheltering trees and for the last
time trod- those incredible, painted
sands.
Before them, on the incredible, paint
ed waters, the dull gray launch, like an
ugly duckling, was floating without per
ceptible motion, its engine stilled, its
ensign drooping in laxy. stirless folds.
Halfway between it and the shore
a tender was driving in at the vigor
ous propulsion of four long oars work
ed by two sturdy, white-clad oarsmen.
In the stern were two passengers, one
a youthful-looking, well set up officer
of his majesty's navy, the other an un
dersized. round-shouldered little figure
of a man in a steward's white coat and
nondescript trousers, a little man whose
carriage and sharp but friendly grin
were peculiarly Acklin's and not to be
mistaken
By the time Cynthia and Crittenden
had reached the water’s edge the sailors
had shipped their oars and the dingy
was gliding in over the rapidly shoal
ing waters. As the keel grated the oars
men jumped out, bare legs splashing,
and seizing the thwarts ran the bows
well up on the dry beach.
The officer rose, stepped forward, and
jumped out. cap in' hand, with clear
eyes in a bronzed face flashing admira
tion of Cynthia.
"Miss Grayce. I believe?" he said
pleasantly, with the clear and indi
vidual enunciation of the British.
"And Mr. Crittenden?” He bowed to
the one. formally, and with more of
a suggestion of impulsiveness extended
bis hand to the other. “I'm glad to
meet you sir." he said, as Crittenden's
palm touched his. “Mr. Macklin has
been telling me the story of your ad
ventures. I beg pardon—l should have
Introduced myself; 1 am Lieutenant
Gathorne-Bell of the Admirable—pro
tected cruiser of the Fourth squadron,
xttached to the Bermuda station.”
"Heaven knows.” said Crittenden.
"I'm glad to meet you: I never expe
rienced a pleasure more pleasant or
more unexpected. . . . Hello. Ack-
itn. he said, in tun offering his hand '
to the Cynthia's late' steward.
"Macklin now, if you don’t mind, Mr. j
Crittenden, " returned the other, shak
ing hands heartily. "Ive resumed the M
wth the aitches.” And in fact the
elimination of the Cockney accent
seemed to have made quite a different
to whom he has previously figured
man of him. at least fw the eyes of those
treatment Jjgrafl
and I 1
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simply as a well-trained and well-in
tentioned servant.
“Miss Grayce.”he continued, bowirffc
and he proffered her a package he had
til then carriel tucked beenath his
arm "Madame Savaran sent you thsli
for protection from the sun. May I con
gratulate you on your successful swm
, ashore?”
"Thank you.” the girl told him: and,
Mr. Macklin, she added with apparent
difficulty.
"For the sake of my sanity, pease.”
Crittenden begged, aughing. "explain
yourself—yourselves, for that matter!"
“I don’t wonder you're bewildered.”
Macklin commented, stepping to Cyn
thia’s side, courteously to take and
place over her shoulders the light,
angle-long silk wrap she had removed
from the parce—with a silgh of grati
tude for Madame Sa varan's fore
thought..
“Not a great deal to explain, either."
added the lieutenant. "Your message
was picked up night before last by a
t’nited Fruit boat and passed on to us
—by wireless of course.”
"Thurlow to save his neck,”
Macklin interposed; "Lobb and Perez
would have killed him if he hadn’t. In
vented that excuse for sending out
that message, even though you had him
covered. ... Oh, didn’t Miss
Grayce tell you?’ he broke off in defer
ence to Crittenden’s blank expression.
"Never mind, then; only Thurlow did
pretend he’d cut down the wave radius
to nothing—or something of the sort.
I don’t know enough about wireless to
sav whether it was possible; and the
others were equally ignorant—too
stpid to question his statement. Any
way. he got away with it.”
"We were about halfway between here
and Bermuda when we got the message,”
Gathorne-Bell resumed—"the squadron
wgs on practice cruise, you know. The
Admirable was at once detached—and
made the mouth of the channel, here,
about four this morning. A message of
inquiry our wireless sent out, for word
of you. was picked up by the Cynthia’s
operator a little earlier, it seems, and
gave them the alarm. . So they tried to
beat us to blue water, and walked right
into our arms shortly after daylight. We
have orders to take both vessels with
their crews to Bermuda, there to await
instructions —whether to ship the pris
oners to England for tWal or extradits
I them to America. It’s a nice question,
1 I’m afraid, whether or not the Cynthia
i and Orion were taken on the high seas
. or within British waters; and of what,
precisely, you—l moan the ringleaders—
are guilty’**,. . ■ x .
"CriminalAcnnspirgcy on the high seas,
I fancy,” Macklin voluntwed. "In that
case. American jurisdiction*’
“And I presume we— Misb Grayce and
I. - ’ suggested Crittenden with a wry face.
THE ATLANTA SEMI-WEEKLY JOURNAL, ATLANTA, GA.. FRIDAY, OCTOBER 4, 1912
By Louis Joseph Vance
Author of "The Brass Bowl, ’’
"No Man’s Land,” Etc.
"are to consider ourselves under arrest, '
like all the others?’’
"I’m afraid so, Mr. Crittenden.” .the
Englishman assented. "But you'll hardly |
notice it, I premise you; and Mr. Mack- [
Itn’s standing and testimony ifre prelty!
sure to get you off in the end, seot- >
free."
"But who the d-deuce—l beg pardon—,
is Mr. Macklin, anyway?” Crittenden ex- '
ploded, to that gentlemans amused
face. ‘ 4
"Pinkerton sleuth.” said Macklin with |
his quaint smile. "Madame Savaran got ’
suspicious enough to apply to us for
protection, and I was . put on the job.
We failed to fix on anything definite j
enough to warrant stopping the Cynthia |
before she sailed, so 1 had to scrape ac->
qualntance with Rhode and get the stew-j
ard's job. So you needn’t wonder ary
longer why she trusted me with the jew
elry.”
"You’ve got them safe, 1 see,” he add
ed with a nod to the life belt over Crit
tenden's "and such being the
case I’m sure we’ve no further excuse
for detaining Lieutenant Gathorne-Bell.
It’s a good long sail back to the Adimir
able. and a hot one. We'd better he mov
ing along.”
The Englishman turned to Cynthia, of
fering a .hand to help into the boat. "If
Miss Grayce is quite ready—?” said he
"May I be privileged to assist the brav
est lady I ever had the honor of meet
ing?”
Chapter XXX.
THE SENTIMENTAL SCAMP.
With a word of thanks Crittenden re
turned the bulky tomb of the tele
graphic code to the clerk of the cable
company, and moved ooff toward the
door, wagging his head incredulously
as for at least the tenth time he re
compared the code message in his right
hand with its deciphered transcript in
his left.
Then, as he reached the threshold of
the office, his manner that of one aban
doning a thankless and unsolvable
problem, he thrust both papers into the
breast pocket of his white linen suit
and plunged heedlessly from the shad
ow of the room—by contrast, a spot of
cool refuge—into the blinding glare and
heat of the sun-smitten waterfront of
Hamilton, Bermuda.
Descending to the stone landing stage
for the small craft of‘ the harbor, he
beckoned in one of the hovering flock
of watermen, dropped into the stern
seat of the man’s cumbersome rowboat,
and named his destination;, ignoring
entirely the steamship moored at the
quay, in which he might have been ex
pected to show some slight Interest,
since it had brought in that morning
the extradition papers by virtue ot
which the consiprators of the Cynthia
were presently to be deported to New
York.
Crittenden was altogether preoccu-
pied with a fresh development in his
fortunes, information of which had been
conveyed to him by the cable message
in his pocket, and had as little heed
for the towering stem and swelling
i freeboard of the steamship, on which
I he was presently to leave Bermuda to
i play his part in the trial, as he had
' for the black, shining face and knotted.
' naked arms of the negro waterman who
I sat facing him, his huge, barrel-like
i chest expanding and contracting like
j bellows, with the strain, of hip laboring
at the long sweeps. •’
■ Once clear of the Pembroke shore,
, the boat swung across, the placid har
bo? ttoward the cacti-rftudded rocks of
. Salt Kettle; but as it drew nearer kept
; off to the right and worked on down
the Paget shore toward the lands of the
! Tribe of Warwick—Crittenden sitting
in profound abstraction, his head bowed
against the intolerably brilliant ana
’ dazzling reflection of the westering
| sun that blazed its walse in liquid tlame
> upon the peacock waters.
In the course of some twenty min
utes the boat at length drew in to a
private landing stage. Crittenden fum
bled in his pocket, found some coins,
and with the air of an absent-minded
capitalist dropped them all, copper and
silver alike, into the broad, pale, cal
loused palm of the negro. Then, in
different to his voluble thanks, and
probably insensible to the fact that he
had overpaid the fellow by several hun
dred per cent, he leaped ashore, mount
ed a winding, rocky path, crossed the
highway and entered the grounds of
the small semi-private hotel where,
with Cynthia and Madame Savaran, he
was domiciled.
Now his habit became markedly less
pensive and more alert and spirited.
Though the hotel itself was situated
on the brow of the hill, not less than
two hundred feet above the harbor, and
the ascent to it was long and steep, he
moved briskly, looking about him with
quick glances that vainly explored the
aisles and vistas of the cedar-clad
slopes—vainly, since they encountered
nothing resembling the beloved object
of their desire.
About halfway to the top, however,
he came suddenly round a perfumed
coppice upon a solitary idler, half-re
slining upon a rustic seat.
“Macklin!” he cried, pausing. "Hello!
What are you doing here —all by your
lonesome?”
The erstwhile steward of the Cynthia
sat up with some, evident surprise,
grinned broadly, rose and shook Critten
den's hand, and resumed his lounging
posture. "Loafing.’’, he said, senten
tious, playing with a cigarette. "I
brought Rhode over; he wanted to have
a talk with the old lady, and I got per
mission for him, on (tie understanding
that I’m responsible for his return. Not
that he has any show in the world of
getting away.”
"No,” agreed Crittenden, pausing for
breath against the resumption of his
climb: “that’s true. - A prisoner has a
mighty slim chance of escaping from
Bermuda. . . . What’s new?”
"Nothing you oughn’t to know by
this time. You knew that the extradi
tion papers came through this morn
ing?”
“Yes.”
"Well, we’re off next Wednesday.
'Presume you knew that, too?”
"T heard as much. How's Claret?”
“Oh, he's all right,” saiil the detec
tive with a grunt of disgust. “You
can’t really hurt that type of thug.
He's as full of hell already as a kid
is of mischief. Good thing you’re not
going back on the same boat; he'd lay
to get you, if he hung for it.
Perez and Lobb aren't so vindictive,
though you’re safe in assuming that
neither of 'em loves you to death.
Going?” Macklin added av
Crittenden betrayed symptoms of a de
sire to continue the ascent. He con
sulted his watch, announcing with a
show of surprise: "It’s getting late. Tell
Rhode I’ll give him twenty minutes
more. I don’t want to go home in the
dark.”
“I’ll tell him,” Crittenden laughed.
"Good night.”
“So long. I’ll be over before 'we sail,
for a final confab. Give Miss Grayce
my respects, please,” Macklin called
after him. "Night.”
Crittenden moved on. still with inquis
itive eyes prying eagerly into each nook
and corner of the grounds, receiving on
the way an impression that the hour
was really later than he had suspected,
whose thoughts had all been taken up
with other matters since receipt of his
cryptic cable message, abcut mid-after
noon.
Now there was a slant of ruddy burn
ing sunlight through the trees, a soft
ened tone in the long, eastward stretch
ing shadows that stencilled the velvet
lawns, a hint of evening coolness in the
air. . . .
Drawing near the topmist terrace of
the hillside, he became aware of voices:
a conversation largely (it's true) domi
nated by the sharp, incisive, but not un
pleasant accents of Madame Savaran,
only now and then broken in upon by
the windy, incoherent rumbling of
Rhode's bass.
Presently he discovered ihe couple be
neath a Pride-of-India on the lawn, at a
discreet remove from the hotel veranda:
Madame Savaran sitting quite erect in.
the mature splendor of her toilet of
the evening, her handsome, finely mod
eled head held high, eyes scintillant, nos
trils distended with the lust of conflict,
her language playing like heat lightning
round the head of her unhappy son-in
law; Rhode crouching low In a wicker
lounge-chair, his dejected head bent for
ward, chin on breast, immense red hands
grasping the arms of the chair, an ex
pression of profound and melancholy
helplessness adumbrating the rich color
of his carven face, petrous eyes twin
knobs of blue despair.
Catching sight of Crittenden, he
stirred and sat up. with a movement of
anticipatory relief. Madame Savaran
likewise changed her position, moderat
ing the inflexible if semi-humorous an
tagonism of her attitude toward Rhode
She beckoned the younger man with a
sweeping and vivacious gesture of her
cane.
“Come here,” she demanded sharply.
“It seems to me you've been an unrea
sonably long time, away.”
Crittenden, by this time accustomed
to and father amused by the old Kidy’s
domineering habit, smiled indulgently as
he came up and put himself into a chair
near the two. But Rhode groaned dis
mally.
"That's right,” he commented in a hol
low tone. “Go on. Treat him like a son
in-law, too. He can’t help himself,
either: he's only a poor, lone, defenseless
man.”
"Be quiet, ingrate,” madam counselled
him acidly.
“Oh, I say!” Crittenden interposed jn
the interests of peace. “Can’t you hold
off the dogs of war until you hear my
news? I've great news, honestly.
Where's Cynthia?”
“Upstairs. dressing,” madame in
formed him. “What is your line news,
pray? , . . Unless”,—with a curling
lip—'‘you intend to keep it to yeurself
until that pert chit deigns to favor us
with her presence.”
"By no means,” said Crittenden hasti
ly. “Only—l wanted her to know. I
think she'll be glad. ... I received
a cablegram this afternoon.”
"So I understand,” observed madame
“And you promptly rushed off
without telling any one what it' was
about”
“I’m sorry, but I didn't know my
to go to the office to find a code book.
It was from my agent. Wroy; the man
self. You see, it was in code, and I had
who handles my plays in New York. The
story of our adventure must have been
cabled home: I presume the newspapers
have been full of various conflicting
accounts.”
“Do you call that good news?”
“No. madame, I merely mentioned it
as a surmise to account for the fact
that Wroy knew my w-hereabouts—knew
where to address me. ... At all
events, he's placed my last play on ex
cellent terms with one of the best and
squarest managers in the business. Best
of all, from a point of view based on
my present very impecunious state, he
has screwed a whopping big advance
cut of the fellow. He required only my
ratification by cable to close the deal
and deposit money to my credit at the
bank. That’s going to help me a lot,
I so I ventured to present my insignifi
cant person to your distinguished con
! sideration as a fit subject for congratu
i lations.”
“Good work,” growled Rhode.
“I’m sure I’m very glad,” Madame
the first kind words that has got past
; her lips this afternoon. Honest.”
Madame preened and began to fan
herself complacently. “Why should I
I cast my pearls before such as you,
George?” she inquired delicately.
i Savaran told Crittenden warmly.
Again Rhode roused a little out of
his disconsolation. "Believe me or not,
.as you will,” said he earnestly, “them’s
Rhode smote the air with an em
| phatic red hand. “That's just the way
| she's been goin’ on ever slnst I blew
in here!" he declared.
“Can you blame me. Mr. Crittenden?"
the old lady entered, in her own • de
fense. “Am I not justified in express
ing my indignation when I discover I
have warmed a viper in my bosom these
many years?”
"If you mean me,” her. son-in-law ex
postulated heatedly, “you never—”
"Be quiet—dolt! Kvcr since 1 have
known him he has been deceiving me,
Mr. Crittenden. Do you blame me
for feeling exasperation?"
"But how have I deceived you? Now
igo on and tell," insisted Rhode. "You
started this. Now go on and tell how
i I’ve been deceiving you!”
"Simply by seeming to be what vou
; were not.” countered Madame readily,
i “For years I have nursed a sneaking
and unworthy admiration for you.
(George: you seemed, you made yourself
out to be. such a thorough-paced black
guard. without a single redeeming fea
ture. that I actually liked you for the
flaw less perfection of your unmorality.
And now. at this late day. you choose
jto reveal yourself for a hypocrite: you
show me that beneath the placid mask
:of your iniquity, you are. after all. and
have always been, a man of some feel
ing. with a heart and sensibility to
human emotions—sentiment, generosity,
even—God save the mark?—a rudimen
tary sense of humor.”
"Mebbe.” Rhode addressed Crittenden,
transfixing him with a hopeless stare,
“you know what she’s talkin’ about. I'm
damned if I do. But let it rave, let
it rave!"
Madame Savaran drew herself up
with a dignity that went far to conceal
the twitching of her fine mouth. "I
sha'n't stay here to be insulted.” she
remarked, rising. “I’m going up to And
Cynthia. No, please. Mr. Crittenden,”
she insisted when the young man, on
his feet, offered to e«Cort her to the >
door—one of the • old-rashioned atten
tions to which she had shown him she
was fond. “I wish you to stay. This
beast of a son-in-law of mine has
something to say to you. I will send
Cynthia to you to hear your good news,
as soon as .she’s dressed."
She lingered an instant, perking her
head on one side, and surveying Crit
tenden witli eyes of affectionate malice.
"I'm not sure T ought to,” she pursued.
“The child is far too good for.you. But
still, you are rather a presentable young
man, and—though I daresay you’ve
pulled the wool over her eyes—l think
you're probably as decent as most. In
deed’’—and here she menaced him mis
chievously with her cane—“if I wero
not in love with Cynthia—and she fond
of you—and if I were not the mother
in-law of that full-grown hulk of ras
cality there, I'd be almost tempted to
marry you myself.”
“That's right.” Rhode snorted. “Go
on. Scare him to death.”
“Oh. I don’t know.” Madame Sav
aran tossed a prideful head. “I’m sure
he might do worse. There's a perfectly
good proverb about old fiddles."
And. chuckling, she withdrew with all
the honors of war, her cane contemptu
ously spurning the turf she trod.
With a brief laugh Crittenden resum
ed his chair, finding and lighting a
cigarette,
Rhode sighed exhaustively, produced
an extensive handkerchief with a broad
border of bright pink, mopped his face
with it, and sighed a second time and
veritably like a furnace.
“Whew-ew!”
He glanced askance at Crittenden,
fumbled nervously in his coat pocket,
and brought forth a tremendous black
cigar.
“Bad quarter of an hour, eh?” asked
Crittenden, amused.
“Bad?” The Red Man worried off the
end of the cigar with his teeth and cast
it from his mouth with a vicious hiss.
"Bad!” He rolled his head wearily
from shoulder to shoulder. "My boy,
my boy!” he observed with a falling in
flection. "There’s a limit to all things,
and madum’s it on two legs and a
cane. She’s just been goin’ round me.
and round and round and round, like a
cooper round a barrel—bang, bang,
bang! with the hammer. Gee-e! I'm
.sore all over.”
He paused to rake a match beneath
his thigh and light the cigar.
"Still,” he conceded, less passionate
ly. “we ' gotta make allowances for a
woman. All women are crazy.”
“You’ve said that before.”
“I know; but it’s like all them —what
d’you call ’em?—epigrams: if there’s
any solid truth in ’em, they’ll stand a
lot of repeatin’. . AU women
are crazy. The more times I say it the
more I realize it’s one of them im
moral truths. . ; ". Not that there s
any real harm in women. Only they
ain’t sensible, like men. Now you take
inadum: she don’t mean bad. I’m strong
for her, if we do fight, and she’s al
ways been pretty strong for me in her
way—except when I come through with
a piece of work that’s so coarse it’s
gritty. Yes. . . . Did I ever tell
you I was married?”
“I believe ypu did mention It once;
Madame Savaran said you deserved to
be.”
“I guess there's somethin' tn that. too.!
not that I had any kick cornin’ about
the matrimony thing, while it lasted. I
liked it. Honest, you wouldn’t believe
how much I liked it.”
He turned, staring stonily at the cloud
bonnet sunset that burned like some vast
celestial holocaust above and beyond the
low, swelling hills of Somerset.
(Continued in Next Issue.)
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THE HAYNER DISTILLING COMPANY, Dept G-26
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