"You did very wrong," I cried; "you had no right! You may involve us
both most unpleasantly."
"You are not involved in any way," protested Kinney. "As soon as we
reach New Bedford you can slip on shore and wait for me at the hotel.
When I've finished with these gentlemen, I'll join you."
"Finished with them!" I exclaimed. "What do you mean to do to them?"
"Arrest them!" cried Kinney sternly, "as soon as they step upon the
wharf!"
"You can't do it!" I gasped.
"I _have_ done it!" answered Kinney. "It's good as done. I have notified
the chief of police at New Bedford," he declared proudly, "to meet me at
the wharf. I used the wireless. Here is my message."
From his pocket he produced a paper and, with great importance, read
aloud: "Meet me at wharf on arrival steamer _Patience_. Two well-known
criminals on board escaping New York police. Will personally lay charges
against them.--Forbes Kinney."
As soon as I could recover from my surprise, I made violent protest. I
pointed out to Kinney that his conduct was outrageous, that in making
such serious charges, on such evidence, he would lay himself open to
punishment.
He was not in the least dismayed.
"I take it then," he said importantly, "that you do not wish to appear
against them?"
"I don't wish to appear in it at all!" I cried. "You've no right to
annoy that young lady. You must wire the police you are mistaken."
"I have no desire to arrest the woman," said Kinney stiffly. "In my
message I did not mention _her_. If you want an adventure of your own,
you might help her to escape while I arrest her accomplices."
"I object," I cried, "to your applying the word 'accomplice' to that
young lady. And suppose they _are_ criminals," I demanded, "how will
arresting them help you?"
Kinney's eyes flashed with excitement.
"Think of the newspapers," he cried; "they'll be full of it!" Already in
imagination he saw the headlines. "'A Clever Haul!'" he quoted. "'Noted
band of crooks elude New York police, but are captured by Forbes
Kinney.'" He sighed contentedly. "And they'll probably print my picture,
too," he added.
I knew I should be angry with him, but instead I could only feel sorry.
I have known Kinney for a year, and I have learned that his
"make-believe" is always innocent. I suppose that he is what is called a
snob, but with him snobbishness is not an unpleasant weakness. In his
case it takes the form of thinking that people who have certain things
he does not possess are better than himself; and that, therefore, they
must be worth knowing, and he tries to make their acquaintance. But he
does not think that he himself is better than any one. His life is very
bare and narrow. In consequence, on many things he places false values.
As, for example, his desire to see his name in the newspapers even as an
amateur detective. So, while I was indignant I also was sorry.
"Joe," I said, "you're going to get yourself into an awful lot of
trouble, and though I am not in this adventure, you know if I can help
you I will."
He thanked me and we went to the dining-saloon. There, at a table near
ours, we saw the lovely lady and Stumps and the American. She again
smiled at me, but this time, so it seemed, a little doubtfully.
In the mind of the American, on the contrary, there was no doubt. He
glared both at Kinney and myself, as though he would like to boil us in
oil.
After dinner, in spite of my protests, Kinney set forth to interview
him and, as he described it, to "lead him on" to commit himself. I
feared Kinney was much more likely to commit himself than the other, and
when I saw them seated together I watched from a distance with much
anxiety.
An hour later, while I was alone, a steward told me the purser would
like to see me. I went to his office, and found gathered there Stumps,
his American friend, the night watchman of the boat, and the purser. As
though inviting him to speak, the purser nodded to the American. That
gentleman addressed me in an excited and belligerent manner.
"My name is Aldrich," he said; "I want to know what _your_ name is?"
I did not quite like his tone, nor did I like being summoned to the
purser's office to be questioned by a stranger.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because," said Aldrich, "it seems you have _several_ names. As one of
them belongs to _this_ gentleman"--he pointed at Stumps--"he wants to
know why you are using it."
I looked at Stumps and he greeted me with the vague and genial smile
that was habitual to him, but on being caught in the act by Aldrich he
hurriedly frowned.
"I have never used any name but my own," I said; "and," I added
pleasantly, "if I were choosing a name I wouldn't choose 'Stumps.'"
Aldrich fairly gasped.
"His name is not Stumps!" he cried indignantly. "He is the Earl of Ivy!"
He evidently expected me to be surprised at this, and I _was_ surprised.
I stared at the much-advertised young Irishman with interest.
Aldrich misunderstood my silence, and in a triumphant tone, which was
far from pleasant, continued: "So you see," he sneered, "when you chose
to pass yourself off as Ivy you should have picked out another boat."
The thing was too absurd for me to be angry, and I demanded with
patience: "But why should I pass myself off as Lord Ivy?"
"That's what we intend to find out," snapped Aldrich. "Anyway, we've
stopped your game for to-night, and to-morrow you can explain to the
police! Your pal," he taunted, "has told every one on this boat that you
are Lord Ivy, and he's told me lies enough about _himself_ to prove
_he's_ an impostor, too!"
I saw what had happened, and that if I were to protect poor Kinney I
must not, as I felt inclined, use my fists, but my head. I laughed with
apparent unconcern, and turned to the purser.
"Oh, that's it, is it?" I cried. "I might have known it was Kinney;
he's always playing practical jokes on me." I turned to Aldrich. "My
friend has been playing a joke on you, too," I said. "He didn't know who
you were, but he saw you were an Anglomaniac, and he's been having fun
with you!"
"Has he?" roared Aldrich. He reached down into his pocket and pulled out
a piece of paper. "This," he cried, shaking it at me, "is a copy of a
wireless that I've just sent to the chief of police at New Bedford."
With great satisfaction he read it in a loud and threatening voice: "Two
impostors on this boat representing themselves to be Lord Ivy, my future
brother-in-law, and his secretary. Lord Ivy himself on board. Send
police to meet boat. We will make charges.--Henry Philip Aldrich."
It occurred to me that after receiving two such sensational telegrams,
and getting out of bed to meet the boat at six in the morning, the chief
of police would be in a state of mind to arrest almost anybody, and that
his choice would certainly fall on Kinney and myself. It was ridiculous,
but it also was likely to prove extremely humiliating. So I said,
speaking to Lord Ivy: "There's been a mistake all around; send for Mr.
Kinney and I will explain it to you." Lord Ivy, who was looking
extremely bored, smiled and nodded, but young Aldrich laughed
ironically.
"Mr. Kinney is in his state-room," he said, "with a steward guarding the
door and window. You can explain to-morrow to the police."