Merefleet shivered at the words. He did not answer her. The shock had
been too great. He sat stiff and silent, waiting for more.
The American girl looked at him with a pitying little smile. She was
wholly unabashed.
"I reckon the man who invented searchlights was no fool," she remarked.
"I just wish that quaint old battleship would come right along here.
It's not exciting, this place."
"New Silverstrand would be more to your taste, I fancy," said Merefleet,
reluctantly forced to speak.
The smile on the beautiful face developed into a wicked little gleam of
amusement. "That's so, I daresay," said the high voice. "But you see, I
wasn't consulted. I've just got to go where I'm taken."
She sank into a chair opposite Merefleet and leant forward.
Merefleet sat perfectly rigid. There was a marvellous witchery about the
clasped hands and bent head before him. But he did not mean to let his
idiotic sentimentality carry him away again. So long as the enchantress
was speaking, the spell was wholly impotent. Therefore he should not
suffer her to relapse into silence. Yet--how he hated that high, piercing
voice! It was like the desecration of something sacred. It made him
shrink in involuntary protest.
"Say!" suddenly exclaimed his companion, looking at him sharply. "Aren't
you Bernard Merefleet of New York City?"
Merefleet frowned unconsciously at the notoriety that was his.
"I was in New York until recently," he said with some curtness.
"Exactly what I said," she returned triumphantly. "A friend of mine
snap-shotted you walking up Fifth Avenue. He said to me: 'Here's
Merefleet the gold-king, one of the cutest men in U.S.A. His first name
is Bernard. So we call him the Big Bear for short.' Ever heard your pet
name before?"
"Never," said Merefleet stiffly, with a suggestive hand on the evening
paper. He wished she would leave him alone. With his eyes averted at
length, the charm of her presence ceased to attract him. He even fancied
he resented her freedom. But the girl only laughed carelessly. She had
not the smallest intention of moving.
"Well," she said, and he imagined momentarily that her abominable accent
was deliberately assumed. "I guess you've heard it now, Mr. Bernard
Merefleet. Smart, I call it. What's your opinion?"
Merefleet started a little at the audacity of this speech. And again he
was looking at her. There was a funny little smile twitching the corners
of her mouth. Her beauty was irresistible. Even the iron barrier of his
churlish avoidance was severely shaken. She was hard to withstand, this
witch with her friendly eyes and frank speech, despite her jarring voice.
She nodded to him sociably as she met his grave look. "You aren't on a
pleasure-trip, I reckon," she observed.
"Pleasure!" said Merefleet, giving way with abrupt bitterness. "No.
There's not much pleasure in unearthing skeletons. That's what I'm
doing."
The beautiful eyes opposite opened wide. She was silent for a moment.
Then, "Think you're wise?" she enquired casually.
"No," said Merefleet roughly. "I'm a fool."
She nodded acquiescence. "That's so, I daresay," she said. "I was afraid
you were sick."
"So I am," he said. "Sick of life--sick of everything."
"I guess you want some medicine," she said seriously.
Merefleet laughed suddenly. "Something strong and deadly, eh?" he said.
She shook her head. "Tell me what you like best in the world!" she said.
Merefleet reflected.
"You must know," she insisted briskly. "Is it a woman?"
"Good heavens, no!" said Merefleet, with an emphasis not particularly
flattering to the sex.
"Well, then," she said, "p'r'aps it's the sea?"
"You may say so for the sake of argument," said Merefleet.
"I don't argue," she responded, with what he took for a touch of heat.
"If people disagree with me I just shunt."
"Excellent policy," said Merefleet, interested in spite of himself. He
fancied a faint shadow crossed her face. But she continued to speak with
barely a pause. "If you like the sea you'd better join Bert and me. We go
out every day. It's real fun."
"Exciting as well as dangerous," suggested Merefleet.
She nodded again. It was a habit of hers when roused to eagerness.
"You've hit it. It's just that," she said. "Will you come?"
Merefleet hesitated. He was still inclined to be surly. But the new
influence was not so easy to resist as he had imagined. The woman before
him attracted him strongly, despite the fact that he now knew her
loveliness to be but mortal; despite the constant jar of her shrill
voice.
"Who is Bert?" he enquired at length, reluctantly aware that in
temporising he signed away his freedom of action.
"Bert's my cousin," she answered. "He's English right through. You'd like
Bert. He's in the smoke-room. Bert and I are great chums."
"Are you staying here alone together?" Merefleet enquired.
She nodded. "Bert is taking care of me," she explained. "He's like a son
to me. I call him my English bull-dog. I just love bull-dogs, Mr.
Merefleet."
Merefleet was silent.
She stretched out her arms with a swift, unconscious movement of
weariness.
"Well," she said, "I'm real lazy to-night, and that's fact. I guess you
want to smoke, so I'll go and leave you in peace."
She rose and stood for a few moments in the doorway, looking out into the
pulsing darkness beyond. Merefleet watched her, fascinated. And as he
watched, a deep shadow rose and lingered on the beautiful face. Moved by
an instinct he did not stop to question, he rose abruptly and stood
beside her. There was a pause. Then suddenly she looked up at him and the
shadow was gone.
"Isn't he cross?" she said.
"Who?" asked Merefleet.
"Why, that funny old sea," she laughed. "He's just wild to dash over and
swamp us all. Supposing he did, should you care any?"
"I don't know," said Merefleet.
Her eyes were full of a soft laughter as she looked at him. Suddenly she
laid a childish hand on his arm. "Oh, you poor old Bear!" she said,
dropping her voice a little. "I'm real sorry for you!"
And then she turned swiftly and was gone from his side like a flash of
sunlight.