WE were on the sidewalk--"banquette," as it is called in New
Orleans--in front of the hotel, and Van Dyck was marshaling a number of
vehicles for a descent upon the railroad station, when a small man with
his soft hat pulled well down over his eyes appeared at my elbow as
silently as if he had materialized out of the rain-wet pavement.
"Pardon, M'sieu'," he murmured, in the broken English which placed him,
apparently, as a native of the French quarter, "ze brother of my cousin
ees h-ask me to fin' out for heem w'en M'sieu' Van Dyck's steamsheep
comes on N' Orlean. 'Ees h-oncle been de _chef_ h-on dat sheep, an'
'ee's want sand heem lettaire. _Oui._"
Van Dyck had started his procession of cabs, and he called to me as
the last of the vehicles pulled up to the curb to take us in. Almost
mechanically I gave the soft-spoken and apologetic questioner his
answer.
"Mr. Van Dyck's yacht came up the river to-day. Tell your cousin's
brother he will have to hurry his letter. The _Andromeda_ will sail
either to-night or to-morrow morning, I believe."
It was not until after I had joined Van Dyck in the waiting taxi, and
we were sluing and skidding over the wet pavements on the way to the
railroad station, that my companion said: "Didn't I see you talking to
a little fellow in gray tweeds and a soft hat just before we drove away
from the hotel? Do you know the man?"
"No; he was a stranger to me," I returned. "He asked a question and I
answered it. He is the man who sat two tables away on your right in the
hotel dining-room. He said he was the cousin of a cousin of somebody
who wanted to send a letter to the _Andromeda's_ cook, and he wanted to
know when the yacht would arrive."
"You told him the _Andromeda_ is already here?"
"Yes."
"That's a bit odd," was Van Dyck's comment.
"What is odd?"
"That this little sallow-faced fellow should turn up here in New
Orleans practically at the same moment that I do. I spotted him while
we were at dinner and wondered if he could be the same one."
"The same one as who? And why shouldn't he be here?" I asked, rather
more than mildly curious.
"The same one I have seen at least twice before in the past few weeks.
The first time was at our anchorage in the Hudson when he, or somebody
very much like him, was the last man overside as we were leaving port a
month ago. I understood then that he was a friend of some member of the
_Andromeda's_ crew and had come aboard for a farewell visit."
"And the second time?"
"The second time was some three weeks later, and the place was Havana.
There he, or again somebody exactly like him, was hanging around the
water front chinning with any member of the crew who happened to have
shore leave. That time he wasn't trying to mail a letter; he was trying
to find out why it had apparently taken us three weeks, instead of
something less than one, to make the run down from New York to Cuba."
"Did he find out?" I inquired, with a little private wonderment of my
own to prompt the query.
"I can't say as to that," was Van Dyck's half-guarded reply. "What is
puzzling me now is his--er--omnipresence, so to speak. So far as I
know, we left him in Havana. How does he come to be here in New Orleans
on the very day of our arrival?"
"That is easy," I said; "the method, I mean--not his object. He could
have come by railroad from Key West in less time than it took the
_Andromeda_ to steam across the Gulf."
"Of course," Van Dyck agreed, quite as if this simple explanation had
not occurred to him. And then, since we had reached the station, where,
upon inquiry, we found that the New York train was already in, there
was time only for a hospitable dash to the platform upon which our
prospective ship's company was at the moment debarking.
Though I knew all of Van Dyck's guests well enough to need no
introductions, the mob of them that was pouring out of the private car
_Kalmia_ was overwhelming by sheer weight of numbers.
"Heavens!" I said to Van Dyck as we came upon the scene, "I don't
wonder that you wanted help," and therewith we plunged in to bring
order out of the platform chaos of mingled humanity and hand baggage.
It was after we had the human part of the chaos marching, with an army
of laden red-caps, upon the line of chartered taxis, that Van Dyck
thrust a sheaf of baggage checks into my hand.
"Be a good fellow, Dick, and see to it that the heavy dunnage gets
started for the _Andromeda's_ wharf before you leave, won't you?" he
asked. "I'll go on with the crowd, and have one of the taxis wait for
you--T. and P. wharf, foot of Thalia Street, you know."
That was how it came about that I was left alone to wrestle with the
baggage-masters and the transfer people, and after I had seen the last
truck-load of steamer trunks sorted, tarpaulined, and started on its
way over town, I returned to the cab rank and found my taxi awaiting
me, as Van Dyck had promised.
It was not until I was climbing into the covered cab that I discovered
that it was already occupied. As I ducked for shelter from the rain,
which was now falling smartly, a voice that I should have recognized
if I had heard it on another planet said, "I hope you found my little
green trunk with the others. It has all my dinner gowns in it."
"Conetta!" I gasped; and then I saw what Van Dyck had done, either with
malice aforethought or in sheer heedlessness. In the taxicab loading
there had been an overflow of one, and Conetta Kincaide had been left
behind to share the waiting vehicle with me.
"You--you knew this was my cab?" I stammered, after I had accumulated
wit enough to shut the door and tell the driver to go on.
"Of course. Bonteck put me in and said you'd be along in a few minutes;
that you'd gone to look after the baggage. How do you happen to be
here with Bonteck?"
"That," I evaded, "is a rather tedious story. Later on you may have
it for what it is worth, if you still care to hear it. Excuse me a
moment," and I leaned forward and stuck my head through the open window
at the taxi-driver's ear to whisper: "Take your time, and don't bother
to make any short cuts."
"What was that you were saying to the man?" was the question I had to
answer after I had fallen back into the seat beside the possessor of
the cool voice and self-contained manner.
"I was telling him he needn't hurry," I confessed brazenly. "In a few
minutes you will be one of the crowd again, and there are three years
to be bridged, in some fashion, in those few minutes."