Dénoûment.
At last! The shock was over; and he feebly opened his eyes once
more, to find that he was undoubtedly on the deck; and, yes, the
Bank Manager was standing over him with a kind of triumphant grin!
"Mercy!" Peter murmured faintly. "You--you surely wouldn't kick a
man when he's down!"
"My dear sir!" protested the Manager, "why should I wish to kick
you in _any_ position?"
He must be fatally injured, if even the Manager had relented!
"Is--is Alfred there?" asked Tourmalin, anxiously. "Keep him away,
if you can!"
"Certainly!" said Mr. Perkins. "Who _is_ Alfred?"
"Why, the--the man with the revolver. I thought you knew!"
"Come, come," said the Manager, "there's no man of that kind here,
I assure you. Pull yourself together, sir; you're on board the
_Boomerang_ now!"
"I know," said Peter, dolefully,--"I know I am!"
He shut his eyes resignedly. He was about to receive some other
portion of his time-balance. If he could only hope that no fresh
complications would arise! Would he meet Miss Tyrrell or Miss
Davenport next, he wondered, and how would they behave?
"Haven't you had sleep enough yet?" said the Manager. "You're not
more than half-awake even now!"
"Sleep?" exclaimed Tourmalin, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
"Why, you don't mean to tell me I've been dreaming all this time!"
"I don't know about dreaming; but I can answer for your snoring.
Why, you almost drowned the ship's band! I knew what would happen
when you _would_ have two helpings of curry at breakfast. Worst
thing to take in the world, especially if you don't walk it off!
Why, you've been the joke of the whole ship for the last half-hour.
I wish you could have seen yourself, with your head hanging over
the arm of your chair and your mouth wide open! I thought at last
it was only kind to wake you up. Those two young ladies over there
have been in fits of laughter!"
Peter picked up Buckle, which was lying face downwards on the deck.
His own face was very red, possibly from stooping, as he inquired:
"Er--_which_ two young ladies?"
"Can't tell you their names; but those two uncommonly nice-looking
girls--one in white and navy-blue, and the darker one in pink. Dear
me, I thought they would have died!"
Even now they seemed to have the greatest difficulty in controlling
their countenances, for happening just then to look round and catch
Peter's glance of confused and still somnolent suspicion, they
buried their faces in their handkerchiefs once more, in agonies of
suppressed mirth.
And these were the two whom his dreaming fancies had pictured
as tenderly, desperately, madly devoted to him! The reality was
decidedly disenchanting: they were very ordinary girls, he saw,
after all.
"Well," said Mr. Perkins, "it's not far off tiffin time now; so,
you see, you managed to get through your extra time after all!"
"Yes," said Peter, with a little natural embarrassment; "but I
think, do you know, that, on reflection, I--I _won't_ deposit the
extra hours after all! If you will kindly take back the--the
cheque-book," he added, feeling in his pockets, "and give me the
form I signed, we will consider the arrangement cancelled--eh?"
"It's my belief," said the Manager, "that your head isn't quite
clear yet; for, hang me if I know what you 're talking about!
Deposit? cheque-book? form? What is it all about?"
Peter coloured more furiously than before.
"It was the curry," he said. "I wasn't quite sure whether--but it's
really too absurd to explain. I am wide-awake now, at all events!"
He was awake now, and knew that no time-bargain of this monstrous
kind had ever been actually effected, and all the wild events which
seemed to have taken whole months to accomplish themselves, were
the work of a single hour's indigestion! He was still a bachelor;
still engaged to Sophia: he had still to make the acquaintance of
Miss Tyrrell and Miss Davenport, and endure the ordeal of remaining
for some weeks to come--to say nothing of the extra hours--exposed
to the peril of their fascinations!
But whatever happened now, it could not be said, at least, that he
had not received abundant warning of the consequences which might
ensue from any yielding, however blameless or defensible, on his
part.
And Peter Tourmalin resolved that henceforth Buckle should
monopolise his attention.
THE EPILOGUE.
There are always a few inquiring persons who, at the conclusion
of any story, insist upon being told "what happened after that."
And if such a question is ever justified, it is so in the case of
a narrative that, as in the present instance, ends almost at the
precise moment at which it began.
So it is not impossible that some readers may be sufficiently
interested to wish to know the particular effect produced upon
Peter Tourmalin's subsequent conduct by a vision more than usually
complicated and connected.
Did he receive it, for example, as a solemnly prophetic warning,
and forswear all female society while on board the _Boomerang?_
or was he rather prompted to prove its fallibility by actual
experience?
As to the motives which guided him, we are unable to speak with
confidence, and they must be left to be accounted for by the
reader's knowledge of human nature in general, and Peter's, so far
as it has been self-revealed by his unconscious imagination in
these pages, in particular.
But the author is in a position to state with certainty that,
when Sophia and her mother met the ship, as they duly did at
Gibraltar, nothing on Peter's part gave them the slightest ground
for suspecting that he was on terms of even the most distant
acquaintanceship with either Miss Tyrrell or Miss Davenport, and
that the fact of his being far advanced in the third volume of
Buckle's _History of Civilisation_ seemed to guarantee that he had
employed his spare time on board the vessel both wisely and well.
Nor did he get into any difficulties by circulating gossip
concerning any matron from Melbourne, owing to the circumstance
that there was no lady passenger who at all answered the
description. She, like much else in his experiences, was purely a
creation of the curry.
Lastly, it may be added that Peter is now married to his Sophia,
and is far happier than even he could have expected. She tempers
her intellectuality out of consideration for his mental bareness;
and as yet he has never found her society in the least oppressive,
nor has his errant fancy wandered back in any perfidious sense to
the time he spent, when freed from her supervision, on board the
_Boomerang_.
THE END.
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE
-Plain print and punctuation errors fixed.