A CHARGE TO KEEP
When Dan Webster took his seat at the dinner table, that evening, he
found a printed copy of the passenger-list beside his plate, and his
neighbours were a-flutter with the excitement of seeing their names in
type. Dan, turning to the letter V, found that the names of Ignace Vard
and his daughter were not there. Doubtless the change from second-class
to first was responsible for the omission, and yet, at the back of his
mind was a vague feeling of uneasiness which he was wholly unable to
explain. Chevrial had impressed him, and yet one objection to that
gentleman's misgivings seemed to him unanswerable: if the Vards had been
changed from second-class to first with any ulterior object, the
authorities in charge of the ship must be in the plot, and that was
manifestly absurd.
Yet his determination to seek Miss Vard at the first moment and advise
her to be cautious did not waver. He knew, from the printed
announcements of the company, that the first-cabin dinner was not a
table-d'hote served at a fixed hour, as in the second-cabin, but an a la
carte meal, served from six to nine, as at a fashionable restaurant; so
he loitered restlessly about for half an hour after he left the table;
then, deciding that he had waited long enough, he approached the ladder
which led to the first-class promenade. But a uniformed figure which
stood at the foot of the ladder stopped him.
"Beg pardon, sir," it said, "are you first-class?"
"No; I am second."
"Did you wish to see the purser or some officer of the ship?"
"No; I wished to _see_ one of the passengers."
"In that case, I fear I cannot let you pass, sir. It is against the
rules."
"Oh, is it?" said Dan, all his suspicions revived with double force, and
he bit his lip in perplexity.
"I am sorry, sir; but I am here to enforce the rules."
"Oh, I understand," said Dan.
"You might get your stateroom steward to take a message," the man
suggested.
"But I want to _see_ the person."
"The person can come to you. There is no rule against first-class
visiting second. First-class has the run of the ship."
"I see," said Dan. "Thank you," and he went away to think it over.
Mechanically he threaded his way through the crowd on the promenade,
climbed up to the boat-deck, and sat down on the well-remembered bench.
Some of the others were occupied, but this one was empty; perhaps the
others were becoming as dear to other people as this one was to him! He
got out his pipe, lighted it, pulled his cap over his eyes, thrust his
hands deep into his pockets, and began to think.
He could, of course, write Miss Vard a brief warning; but what assurance
had he that it would be delivered to her, at least without being opened?
If Chevrial was right, if she was really under espionage, any
communication addressed to her would certainly be inspected. Even to
write merely asking her to meet him would arouse suspicion. There was
only one way--he must watch for a chance to steal forward into
first-class when no one was looking.
He considered the possible ways of doing this. In the morning, he knew,
the folding gate which divided the lower promenade into first and second
class was always swung back while the deck was being washed down. It
would be easy to pass then; but, he reflected, in the daytime he had
never noticed that a guard was stationed at the ladder leading to the
upper promenade. Perhaps it was only at night that the prohibition was
in force--at night, when the women of the first-cabin had their diamonds
on! There must, of course, be some police supervision of the ship; each
class must be kept to its own quarters, or, at least, prevented from
wandering into quarters higher up. But, just the same, he must get past!
He rose, and, walking to the forward rail, looked across at the other
deck. A space of perhaps thirty feet separated it from the one on which
he stood. Then he looked down. The man on guard was pacing slowly back
and forth, his hands behind him; but suddenly he quickened his step, for
two men had approached the foot of the ladder. The guard stopped them
with the same formula he had used with Dan.
"Beg pardon, gentlemen," he said, "are you first-class?"
"No; we are second-class," answered one of the men.
"Have you business with the purser or any officer of the ship?"
There was a moment's hesitation.
"Why do you ask?" queried one of the men.
"It is forbidden to pass otherwise."
Again there was a moment's hesitation, and Dan strained his ears to
catch the reply.
"We have business with the Commander," said one of the men at last, in a
low tone.
The guard was obviously surprised.
"The Commander is very busy," he said, deprecatingly. "Perhaps to-morrow
will do."
"To-morrow will not do," was the curt answer.
"I must, at least, announce you," said the guard. "May I have your
card?"
A card was produced and handed to him. Without looking at it, he blew a
sharp blast on a little whistle which hung about his neck. In a moment
another man in uniform appeared at the head of the ladder. The guard
mounted and handed him the card.
"For the Captain," he said, and came down again. "I regret that I must
detain you, gentlemen," he added, "but I must obey the regulations."
"Certainly," agreed one of the men, and they stepped a little apart and
stood talking together in low tones. But almost immediately the
messenger appeared again at the top of the ladder.
"The Captain will receive you, gentlemen," he said, and swung open the
gate and waited for them to pass. Then he closed the gate and hurried
after them. Dan could see them going along the upper promenade; then
they passed from sight.
The guard had stared after them as they climbed the ladder, and he stood
staring for some little time after they had gone. Plainly he was much
astonished. But at last, with a shake of the head, he turned away and
resumed his walk.
Dan was about to turn away, too, when another incident attracted his
attention. A barefooted sailor in white duck, coming from the stern of
the ship, climbed to the rail, tested the rope holding the canvas
windshield, and then, as the guard turned away, grasped a stanchion of
the railing above his head and drew himself up quickly to the first
promenade. Dan, looking after him, saw him run rapidly up the ladder to
the forward boat-deck and disappear behind a life-boat.
That was a way, certainly, to evade the guard. Dan measured the distance
from the rail to the upper deck, and wondered if he could pull himself
up as quickly as the sailor had. He would have to be quick, or the guard
would see him. And it was quite an athletic feat. Besides, he would be
handicapped by his shoes; he might easily slip off the rail and over the
side. No, that road was too dangerous, except as a last resort. Besides,
if he were caught, it would be very awkward.
He returned to his bench and sat down again. After all, was there really
any reason why he should warn Miss Vard? The whole thing was, most
probably, nothing but a bit of rhodomontade on Chevrial's part. And who
was Chevrial, anyway? How did it happen that he was so familiar with
spies and secret services and systems of espionage? A most peculiar
wine-merchant. Perhaps he was not a wine-merchant; perhaps....
"A penny for your thoughts, Mr. Webster," said a low voice, and some one
sat down beside him.
He turned with a violent start.
"Kasia!" he cried, and then stopped, stammering. "I beg your pardon,
Miss Vard," he said, also lowering his voice. "You startled me so!"
As she met his glance, he saw how bright her eyes were. She had thrown a
wrap about her and drawn the hood over her head. Against it, her face
looked very white.
"I think you may call me Kasia," she said softly. "You see, I need a
friend, and I should hate to have a friend call me anything else. No,"
she added, as he started to say something, "I shall continue to call you
Mr. Webster--that is not quite the same thing. And I am sorry I startled
you."
"It was because I was thinking of you. I have been thinking of you all
day. I tried to go to you, just now. I had something to tell you. But
the guard at the ladder stopped me."
He looked around to make sure that there was no one near.
"He didn't stop _me_," she said.
"No; first-class passengers have the run of the ship. How does it
happen that you are first-class, Kasia?"
It was the first time that he had used the word with intention, and his
voice trembled a little over it.
She told him rapidly of the odour which had suddenly developed in her
former stateroom, and how the ship's people had finally been compelled
to transfer her and her father to the first-cabin.
"Oh, to quite sumptuous quarters," she went on; "you should see them.
Two bedrooms and a sitting-room and bath--an imperial suite. There are
no places left at the tables, so our meals are served in our
sitting-room, as though we were royalties. I'm afraid our tips will have
to be something enormous! I can't but feel that the steamship company is
getting very much the worst of it. Both father and I offered to continue
eating second-class, but the Captain wouldn't hear of it. He seems to
think, poor man, that the odour has disgraced his boat. He was quite
humble about it!"
Dan breathed a deep sigh of relief.
"I'm glad it's so simple," he said. "I had begun to imagine all sorts of
things. Last night, when we were talking here, it happened that my
roommate, a fellow named Chevrial, was sitting on that bench yonder, and
overheard a little of our talk. He was quite solemn with me this
afternoon about it."
"In what way?" asked Kasia, quickly.
"He said there are always spies on board these big boats, and that you
oughtn't to go around talking about blowing up battleships--not at this
time, anyway, since it is only three or four days since a French ship
was blown up."
He could hear the startled breath she drew, and the hand she laid on his
sleeve was trembling.
"Did he say that?" she gasped. "But he doesn't suspect--"
"That your father blew up _La Liberte_?" laughed Dan. "Of course not. He
said that was absurd. But, just the same, he thought it unwise to talk
about it."
"He is right," Kasia agreed. "What else did he say?"
"He seemed to think your being moved to first-class was part of a plot
of some kind, and thought you ought to be warned not to make any
acquaintances or confide in any one. But of course that was just his
imagination. If the Captain himself moved you why that settles it. He
wouldn't be concerned in any plot. The whole thing, anyway, sounds like
a bit of ten-twenty-thirty. I told Chevrial so."
"Who is this Chevrial?" asked Miss Vard.
"I don't know. He told me he was a dealer in wine. He seems to have
travelled a lot, and he is certainly a well-educated fellow, and one of
the best talkers I ever met. A Frenchman all through, from the way he
got worked up over Alsace-Lorraine. He said it was as bad as Poland. But
I suspect he was letting his Gallic imagination run away with him when
he got on the subject of spies."
"I am not so sure of that," she said, and fell silent for a moment. "I
have seen more of spies than have you, Mr. Webster--I know how Europe is
honeycombed with them. At any rate, it can do no harm to follow his
advice. Please make sure that there is no one near us. I have something
most important to say to you."
Dan glanced at her in surprise; then he got up, looked behind the boat
in whose shadow the bench stood, and made a careful survey of their
surroundings. Then he sat down again.
"There is no one near," he assured her.
"Mr. Webster," she began, leaning so close that a tendril of her hair
brushed his cheek, and speaking in a voice that was almost a whisper, "I
told you that I had need of a friend. It is a desperate need. I may rely
upon you, may I not?"
For answer, he sought her hand, found it and held it fast. It was very
cold.
"I was sure of it," she said, and her fingers closed upon his. "I knew,
in my first glance at you, that you were to be counted on."
Dan's heart was glowing and he could not trust himself to speak.
"My need is this," she went on rapidly, as though, having nerved herself
to speak, she must hurry through with it before her resolution failed.
"My father has perfected an invention--oh, a great invention--which he
fears some one may try to steal from him. He has many enemies who would
stop at nothing to gain possession of it. Even on this boat, perhaps,
there are some of them--he does not know; there is no way that he can
tell; but he is very anxious. For eight years he laboured at this
invention, and at last it is finished. But if some one should steal his
model, all this would be for nothing--for worse than nothing. It is not
a money loss he fears--this invention will not bring him money--but his
whole life would be wrecked--all his plans, all his hopes. To-day he
agreed with me that this model should be destroyed; he put it in my hand
and he expected me to drop it into the sea. But I was afraid to do that;
perhaps he could not make another. It is so complicated, so delicate,
perhaps he would go wrong. So I thought and thought--I thought if I had
a friend whom I could trust absolutely, whom no one would suspect of
possessing it, I might entrust it to him...."
Dan's pressure on her hand grew stronger.
"Give it to me," he said.
Kasia gazed into his eyes for a moment, as though reading his very soul;
then her other hand came forward under her cloak and touched his. He
felt that it held a package; and he took it quickly and slipped it into
the pocket of his coat.
"Now it is safe," he said. "You are not to worry about it any more."
She breathed a deep sigh of relief.
"But you must make me two promises," she said.
"What are they?"
"You must permit no one, under any circumstances, to open that package."
"I promise."
"Rather than do that, rather than permit any one to see it, you must
destroy it--throw it overboard, stamp upon it--destroy it in some way."
"I promise."
"No matter who may be trying to get it--the Captain of this ship, an
officer of the police--it must make no difference."
"I promise."
She leaned back against the seat, suddenly relaxed as from a great
strain, and closed her eyes. But she did not draw her hand away. Then
she opened her eyes and looked at him, and her lips were quivering. An
immense longing to take her in his arms, to stoop and kiss those lips,
to hold her close to him, rushed through the man's veins. But he held
himself back. To do that would be base; to do that would be asking
payment! He could not do that. But sometime, sometime....
She saw the change in his face, sat for an instant very still, then drew
her hand away, got out her handkerchief and passed it across her eyes.
"Now we can talk," she said, in another tone. "You may choose the
subject."
Dan pulled himself together.
"Oh, any subject will do," he laughed. "Ships or shoes or
sealing-wax--just so you do the talking."
And he got out his pipe and filled it with trembling fingers. He was
absurdly happy.