Hurricane Island. H. B. Marriott Watson
something to the same effect.
"You say the old man's velvet," said Holgate, resuming his puffing.
"Well," said Pye, beaming through his glasses, "I wouldn't go so far as to say it, but he looks it. He looks kid-glove."
"I hate 'em," growled Holgate. "I've seen that kind on the ferry—all airs and aitches, and frosty as a berg."
"Well, of course, it would be much more satisfactory to be sailing under a real Tartar," remarked the little man with mild pleasantry.
Holgate cast him a glance which inquired, but was indifferent. "What's your idea, doctor?" he asked.
"I have none," said I, smiling. "I am much more interested in third officers."
His masklike face relaxed, and he stroked his black moustaches, and took a long pull of his cigar.
"That was very nice of you, doctor," he said, nodding with more cordiality.
Pye drew an apple from his pocket, and carefully bit into it. I don't know why, but it struck me as comical to see him at this schoolboy business, his ears alert, his glasses shining, and his white teeth going to and fro. He reminded me of a squirrel, a fancy to which the little tufts of whiskers by his ears lent themselves. He eyed both of us brightly.
"After all," said the third officer heavily, "it's more important in the end to know your owner, let alone his travelling with you. I wouldn't give two straws for the old man, velvet or iron, so long as I could get the lug of my owner."
"You'll find them both all right," said Pye reassuringly. "Captain Day I have seen and Mr. Morland I know."
"He is very rich?" I asked.
"I'll trouble you for a two and a half commission on it," said the clerk cheerfully, "and then I'd live like a fighting-cock. At least, that's what we all believe. There's no knowing."
The shadows of the November afternoon had gathered in the streets without, and a thin scant rain was flying. Into the area of warmth and brightness entered more customers, and shook the water from the umbrellas. They stood at the bar and drank and talked noisily. Round about us in the loom of the great barrels the shadows lurched from the wagging gas-flames. The clerk had finished his apple.
"We will have another," said Holgate.
"This is mine," I said. He shook his head. I protested.
"Doctor, you confess you live in doubt," he said, "whereas I have my appointment in my pocket. Plainly it is my right."
"I think that's a fair argument, doctor," said Pye.
"I am in both your debt," said I lightly. "For company and wine."
"I'm sure we shall owe you both many a time yet," said the third officer civilly.
At the table near us two men had sat and were talking even as we, but one had a half-penny paper, and turned the flimsy thing about, I fancy in search of racing news.
"You see there is no doubt about you——," began Pye amiably, and suddenly dropped his sentence.
In the unexpected silence I caught some words from the other table.
"Well, it's good pluck of him if he wants to marry her. What's the odds if he is a Prince? Live and let live, I say."
Pye's little squirrel head turned round and he stared for a moment at the speaker, then it came back again.
"You are uncommonly polite," said Holgate irritably.
"I'm sorry. I thought I recognised that voice," said the little man sweetly. "One gets echoes everywhere. I was going to say we took you for granted, doctor."
"It's good of you," said I. "But will Mr. Morland?"
"I can practically answer for my employer; I can't say anything about Mr. Morland, who has, however, authorised us to appoint."
"The yacht is from Hamburg?" said I.
"I believe so," said he.
"And its destination?"
"That knowledge is quite out of my province," said the squirrel briefly.
When one came to think of it, it was almost a snub, and I had never any patience for these legal silences. As he shut his jaws he looked a man who could keep a secret, and knew his own mind. Yet he had been so easily familiar that I flushed with resentment. Confound these little professional tricks and solemnities! We were meeting on another ground than lawyer and client.
"I dare say it will be within the cabin-boy's province to-morrow," said I, somewhat sharply.
"Very likely," he assented, and Holgate, who had turned at my tone, exchanged a glance with him.
"Mr. Pye is fond of keeping his own counsel," said the third officer in his slow voice, "and I'm not sure he isn't right, being a lawyer."
"But he isn't a lawyer here," I protested.
Pye smiled. "No; I'm not," he said, "and please don't remind me of it"; at which we all laughed and grew friendly again. "Well, this is a funny sort of tea for me," said the clerk presently. "I generally patronise the A.B.C.," and he rose to go.
Holgate did not move, but sat staring at the fire, which shone on his broad placid face. "I knew a man once," he observed, "who kept his own counsel."
"I hope he was a lawyer," said Pye humourously.
"No; he was a steward—the steward of an estate in the North. In the hills was the wealth of a millionaire; coal, doctor," Holgate looked at me. "And he kept his counsel and held his tongue."
"With what object?" I asked.
"Oh, a little syndicate succeeded in buying it from the owner, and now it's a seven-figure affair."
His face had no expression of inquiry or of inviting comment. He had simply stated history, but I was moved to say flippantly,
"What luck!"
"The steward got it?" asked Pye.
"He romped in," said the third officer.
"And will presently be a baronet," said I lightly.
"Stranger things have happened," he remarked, and began to smile. I fancy we all smiled, though it was not, of course, altogether humourous.
"Is that called robbery?" asked Holgate.
"I doubt if the law covers it," said Pye. "No; it's quite an innocent transaction."
"What is robbery?" I asked cynically. "Lawyers may feel their way amid the intricacies, but no one else can hope to. I'm stealing now when I take these matches."
"I will follow your example," said Holgate, and did so.
"I'm not sure that that's not perks," said little Pye with his quizzical glance.
"Well, is it perks if I buy a picture from you for ten bob which I know to be worth £1,000?" inquired Holgate.
Pye considered. "I give it up," he said.
"Which only proves," said I, continuing my mood, "that it takes a good capercutter to move in and out moral sanctions."
"I don't believe I know what that means quite," said Holgate, giving me the full charge of his steady eyes.
I stooped and warmed my fingers, for the cold blast of the streets was forbidding. "Well, the most famous people have been those who have successfully performed the egg dance between commandments," I remarked.
"I suppose they have," said Holgate thoughtfully.
I rose abruptly, and in the glass above the mantelpiece the two figures behind me came into vision. The little clerk's eyebrows were elevated in a question, and the men faced each other. Holgate's lips were pursed and he nodded. I saw this in the flash of rising, and then I turned about.
"I