“I like you, Gardy; you’re a dear old fellow,” he continued, “but you
mustn’t presume on our friendship and talk to me like that. I’ve got
to let you out.”
“And I suppose I’m to pack my things and go?” said I. “Oh, come,
Chanler; wake up. Try to see things with sane eyes. I don’t care
whether I’m fired or whether we remain friends. We’re all on the same
plane for the present; you, Miss Baldwin, myself, we’re in the hands
of Captain Brack and the crew.”
He shuddered nervously.
“Don’t say such things, Gardy; I forbid them in my hearing.”
“You’re afraid to hear them, you mean.”
“Afraid or not, it makes no difference. They annoy me and I won’t be
annoyed. I won’t, you hear. Been annoyed enough on this trip. Here I
was waiting for Betty’s coming. Felt sure she’d have me if I got her
away alone, just herself and me. She comes, looks around. I look in
her eyes and bang! I see she won’t have me. Plain as print. Whole trip
useless. It’s a rotten world!”
“You’re giving up without a struggle, Chanler?”
“No use, my boy. I don’t like struggling, anyhow.”
“But, Miss Baldwin is, at least your guest, on board your yacht. The
yacht is in the hands of Brack and the crew. Haven’t you thought that
this situation might develop into one that may be unpleasant and even
unsafe for Miss Baldwin?”
“I have,” he said, signaling for another peg. “And I wish I was back
home in the big leather chair at the club, looking out on Fifth
Avenue.” He waved his hand drunkenly toward me. “I entrust—entrust
Miss Beatrice Baldwin—safety, pleasure, honor, rep’tation to you,
Gardy. Ha! There’s a bright little idea. I hire you again, Gardy. New
job. You—you see Betty safe and sound back to her folks.”
That hour marked the beginning of Chanler’s eclipse. At dinner-time
Simmons reported him indisposed. During the next three days he left
his room but seldom. He had but one desire now: to eliminate himself
as a responsible factor in the storm of events about to break upon the
_Wanderer_ and its people.