THE SECRET OF THE VOYAGE
Henley laughed, the sound grating harshly on my nerves, yet I made no
movement of protest as he stepped silently back to his desk. I was no
longer afraid of the fellow, even although he might have a weapon
concealed in one of the drawers, for I knew I had drawn his fangs.
This open avowal on my part was sufficient to convince one of his
stripe that I was concerned only with my own interests. Whatever
suspicion he may have previously entertained regarding my relations
with the lady were now thoroughly evaporated. Assured in his own mind
that Philip had never been married, he was now easily convinced that I
had merely associated myself with a girl from the streets, whom I was
only too glad to desert upon any plausible excuse. His words confirmed
my judgment.
"Well said, my man. Now we begin to understand each other. Of course
I have the proofs. I would be a fool to sit in such a game without a
winning hand. Sit down, both of you, while we talk this over. There
is no reason why the three of us should not be friends, providing you
are sensible."
She had never removed her gaze from me, standing white-faced and rigid,
as though unable to fully comprehend. I doubt if she heard, to
distinguish, a syllable he spoke, her every thought centered on my
renunciation.
"But--but I am his wife," she panted indignantly. "Philip Henley's
wife. I--I showed you our certificate."
"A fake, a forgery," asserted the other roughly, before I could find
voice. "You had it framed up all right, if you had never run across
me. Show me the paper."
"I cannot, for it is not here. I placed it in my valise back at that
house." She stepped forward with hands held out toward me. "But you
know--Gordon Craig, you know. I could not have forged that; I had not
time; no information which would have led to such an act. You tell him
so."
"I hardly think he will, Madam," returned the Captain shortly,
evidently feeling it better not to let me speak. "And there is no use
going on with this any farther. Answer me a question or two, that is
all. Did n't Craig tell you why he was coming down here?"
"Yes," the single word scarcely audible.
"He explained to you in detail what was expected of him?"
"Yes."
"Some hours before you left, was n't it?"
"Yes."
"Then you had sufficient time, and knowledge to complete your plans.
When did you first tell Craig you were Philip Henley's wife?"
I clinched my hands at the bewildered embarrassment in her eyes, at the
sneer in the voice of the questioner, yet held myself silent.
"It was after we came here; when I was frightened, and felt that I must
confess the truth. I--I had begun to trust him."
"Oh, indeed, and you failed to tell him at first because you did not
trust him."
"Partially that--yes. Although I do not think the name Henley was even
mentioned during our first interview. I am sure I did not realize it
was my husband's father who was dead until later."
"Exactly; you picked up a strange man on the street; agreed to go off
on a criminal mission with him, and now expect us to believe you
perfectly innocent of any wrong intent."
"That will be enough," I interrupted, unable to remain quiet any
longer. "The motives of the woman, and how we chanced to meet, are no
concern of yours. If you are Philip Henley, prove it, and let it go at
that. I have told you plainly enough where I stand."
He gazed with black eyes narrowed into slits at the two of us, too
pleased with himself to doubt his success. The sarcastic smile curling
his lips caused me to swear under my breath, but I had gone too far now
to retreat.
"Just as you say, Craig," affecting an easy good nature. "That is
perfectly agreeable to me. However, as it makes no difference what the
late Mrs. Henley thinks, we will dismiss her from the case, and settle
the affair quietly between ourselves. I 've got a proposition which
will interest you." He touched a button, and I heard the sharp tingle
of a bell outside. Almost instantly the door in the cabin opened.
"That you, Peters? Conduct the woman back to her stateroom, lock the
door, and bring me the key."
He bent forward, searching for something in a pigeonhole to his right,
and I caught her eyes, touching my lips with my fingers to signal
silence, while an inclination of the head told her to go without
resistance. The swift change of expression on her face proved her
instant comprehension, as, without uttering a word of protest, she
turned, and disappeared. Henley never glanced up from his work of
selecting papers from a bundle under his hands, nor did I move, until
after Peters returned with the key. Henley dropped it into his pocket.
"That will be all," he said; "you can go."
"You mean I am off duty, sir?"
"Certainly; you understand English, don't you? There will be no more
guard work tonight."
As the door closed again behind Peters the fellow rose to his feet, and
held out his hand. "You are the kind I like, Craig," he said
cordially. "At first I had my doubts about you, and no doubt have been
harsh. To be perfectly honest I thought you would be all right under
ordinary circumstances, but was afraid the girl had a sentimental hold
on you which would make you difficult to handle. Lord, she thought so
too. Did you see her face when you first sided in with me? She wilted
completely. Well, that will make the rest easy. Sit down again, and I
will explain what I want you for."
I accepted the chair indicated, but was not yet altogether ready to
hear his proposition.
"Just a moment," I said firmly. "I may be the man you want, and all
that, but I have got to be convinced first that I am not making another
mistake. I came down here originally believing myself an agent of
justice, only to discover I had been duped. This time I insist on the
truth. I may be a soldier of fortune, but I prefer choosing the side
on which I fight."
"You mean you wish to assure yourself I have the right of it," he asked
smilingly, "before you enlist? There is nothing unreasonable to that.
Unfortunately, however," and he picked up the papers from the desk, "I
can only furnish you corroborative proofs now. Still, I think these
will be convincing. The legal papers, which absolutely establish my
identity as Philip Henley, are in the hands of lawyers, who represent
me at Carrollton. The case will not come up for adjudication for
several weeks yet," speaking slowly, and with careful choice of words,
"but my contention as heir to the property is thoroughly established.
It had to be, for as you know the Judge's son had been away from this
neighborhood for years, practically ever since boyhood. He was almost
unknown to the local inhabitants, even to the servants. He was even
reported as being dead. This state of affairs made identification the
most important thing to be considered. Consequently all documents
bearing directly on that point are, at present, out of my reach. You
understand?"
"Yes; only you must have retained something to substantiate your word."
"Precisely. I was coming to that. I have letters from my father which
should be sufficient. You have seen Judge Henley's writing?" and he
handed me a half dozen missives. They were without envelopes, each
beginning simply, "My Dear Son," relating principally to local
conditions on the plantation, and occasionally expressing a desire for
the wanderer to return, and assume the burden of management. Instead
of names, initials were employed to designate individuals referred to,
and it was evident the recipient had been addressed at various places.
That they were in the crabbed and peculiar handwriting of the old Judge
was beyond all question, and the dates covered several years. I read
them through carefully, puzzled by their contents.
"There are no envelopes?"
"No; I never keep them--why?"
"Only that no name is mentioned; they begin all alike, 'My Dear Son.'"
"I never thought of that," he, admitted, simulating surprise, "but can
supplement by showing you this picture, taken three years ago at
Mobile. Of course you will recognize myself, but may never have seen a
photograph of Judge Henley."
"I never have."
"Well, that is his likeness, and there are those on board who will
identify it. Does this satisfy you that I am what I claim to be?"
In truth it did not, for I would have believed nothing in opposition to
the positive statement of the woman that he was not Philip Henley. Her
simple assertion weighed more with me than any proofs he might submit.
Yet his coolness of demeanor, and the tone of the letters, evidently
written in confidence from father to son, were unanswerable. Under
other conditions--divorced from what I knew--they would be conclusive.
Now I could only wonder at them, groping blindly for some solution.
Were they really addressed to him, or had he stolen them? If the
latter, then how had he succeeded in getting his picture on the same
plate with Judge Henley's? And what were those other more important
documents on which he rested his claim? These considerations flashed
through my mind, yet I was sufficiently aroused to answer quickly,
aware that even the slightest hesitancy might awaken suspicion.
"It would seem to be unanswerable," I replied, replacing letters and
photograph on the desk. "What hurts my pride is to have been made such
a fool of."
"That's nothing, Craig; we have all had that experience. You merely
fell into the clutches of some shrewd men, and a designing woman.
Fortunately you have discovered the truth before any great harm has
been done, and I stand ready to give you a chance now on the winning
side. I would rather have you with me than opposed, and there will be
more money in it for us both. What do you say?"
"I should prefer to know more about your proposition."
"It has nothing whatever to do with the Henley matter," he exclaimed,
leaning back in his chair, and surveying me shrewdly through his dark
eyes. "That is practically settled already, so you will not be further
involved with the girl."
"You would oblige me by leaving her name out of the discussion then," I
interposed coldly. "Even her presence on board is distasteful under
the circumstances."
He chuckled, well satisfied with his diplomacy.
"I understand that; however, we cannot obliterate her entirely. Pretty
enough to be useful too, I imagine, if she can ever be brought to view
this affair from the right angle. Could n't you be induced to attempt
a little, missionary work? Love-making at sea is said to be especially
pleasant."
I shook my head, gazing directly into his eyes, barely able to keep
from throttling him.
"Drop it," I said sternly. "The girl is to be left alone if I have any
part in your scheme. Now I want to know what is expected of me; may I
ask questions?"
He lit another cigarette, calmly indifferent to all outward appearance.
"Certainly--fire away."
"Where are we bound?"
"Spanish Honduras," lazily, but spreading out a map, and tapping it
with his finger. "Perto Cortez, if we can make that port safely; if
not then somewhere along the coast between there and Trupillo. There
will be signals."
I leaned forward, startled out of my self-restraint. "Honduras! Good
Lord! what are you--a filibuster?"
"Hardly," with a short laugh. "That is too dangerous a job, and not
money enough in it. I prefer to do my revoluting through others, and
cop the swag. That is the safe end of the game. It happens to be
Honduras just now; I have been equally interested in other downtrodden
countries. In truth, friend, I am a patriot for revenue only."
"You mean you furnish arms?"
"For a suitable consideration--yes. In strict confidence I will state
that securely packed away in the hold of the _Sea Gull_--largely in
boxes labeled machinery--are twenty thousand rifles, six rapid-fire
guns, and a sufficiency of ammunition for a small army. Once safely
landed the profits of the voyage will total one hundred and fifty
thousand dollars, gold. A rather tidy sum, hey?"
I grasped the idea swiftly enough, and it cleared up some of the shadow
of mystery. But the situation was rendered no more pleasant for us.
"Then you are not sailing for New Orleans?"
"Not until my hold is empty. We cleared from there, light, three weeks
ago."
"You mean to retain the lady on board?"
"Unless she prefers to jump overboard."
"And what have I to do with all this? You said you had use for
me--what use?"