CHAPTER II.

EXIT TOM DURHAM.

Mr. Durham remained watching the departing train until it had passed

out of sight, when he turned round and walked quietly out of the

station. The emotion he had shown--and which, to his great

astonishment, he had really felt--had vanished, and left him in a

deeply contemplative state. He pushed his arms half way up to his

elbows in his pockets, and muttered to himself as he strode along the

street; but it was not until he found himself in the sitting-room at

Radley's Hotel, and had made himself a stiff glass of brandy-and-water

from the bottle, duly included in the bill which Alice had paid, that

he gave his feelings much vent. Then loading a short black pipe from a

capacious tobacco-pouch, he seated himself at the table, and as he

went through his various papers and memoranda thought aloud.

"This is a rum start, and no mistake! Twenty years ago, when I left

this very same place a 'prentice on board the old Gloucestershire, I

never thought I should have the luck to stay in this swell hotel, and,

better still, not to have to put my hand in my own pocket to pay the

bill. It is luck, no doubt; a large slice of luck, larded with talent

and peppered with experience. That's the sort of meal for a man that

wants to get on in the world, and that's just what I have got before

me. Now, when I walk out of this hotel, I shall have two thousand

pounds in my pocket. In my pocket!--not to be paid on my arrival at

Ceylon, as the old gentleman at first insisted. Ally was of great

assistance there. I wonder why she backed me so energetically? I

suppose, because she thought it would have been _infra dig_. for her

brother to appear in the eyes of those blessed natives, over whom he

is to exercise superintendence, as though he had not been considered

worthy of being trusted with the money, and she was delighted with the

notion of bringing it down here herself and handing it to me.

"If I hadn't touched the money until my arrival at Ceylon, I should

have had to wait a pretty long time. You're a dear old gentleman, Mr.

Claxton, and you mean well; but I don't quite see the fun of spending

the rest of my days in looking after a lot of niggers under a sun that

would dry the life-blood out of me before my time. There is an old

saying, that everyone must eat a peck of dirt in the course of their

lives. Well, I ate mine early, took it down at one gulp, and I don't

want any more of the same food. Besides, it is all very well for Ally

to talk about gratitude and that kind of thing; but she does not know

what I do, and it is entirely because I know what I do about my worthy

brother-in-law, that I have been enabled to put the screw upon him,

and to get out of him that very respectable bundle of bank-notes. That

was just like my luck again, to find that out, and be able to bring it

home to him so pat; directly I first got on the scent, I knew there

was money in it, and I followed it up until I placed it chuck-a-block

before him, and he parted freely. In such a respectable way, too. None

of your extortion; none of your threatening letters; none of your

'left till called for,' under initials, at the post-office; none of

your hanging about London spending money which nobody can imagine how

you get, and thereby starting suspicions of other matters which might

not come out quite so nicely if looked into. 'Agent at Ceylon to the

firm of Calverley and Company, brokers, Mincing-lane, London;

iron-smelters and boiler-makers, Swartmoor Foundry, Cumberland;'

that's what Thomas D. will have engraved on his card when he gets

there; and the two thousand pounds, as John gravely remarked before

Alice, were for fitting-up the office, and other necessary expenses. I

wonder what that poor child thought the other necessary expenses could

possibly be, to take such an amount of money?

"No, dear sir, thank you very much. I am willing to allow that the

whole thing was done extremely well, and without causing the smallest

suspicion in the mind of little Ally; but you paid me the money

because you could not help it, and you will have to pay me a great

deal more for that very same reason. You're a very great scoundrel,

John Claxton, Esquire; a much greater scoundrel than I am, though I

have taken your money, and have not the remotest intention of becoming

your agent in Ceylon. You're a cold-blooded villain, sir, carrying out

your own selfish ends, and not, like myself, a generous creature,

acting upon impulse. Notwithstanding the fact that I have your money

in my pocket, I almost grudge you the satisfaction you will experience

when, in the course of to-morrow or the next day, you will hear the

news which will lead you to imagine that you are rid of me for ever.

But I console myself with the reflection, that when I turn up again,

as I undoubtedly shall, your disgust will be proportionately

intensified.

"There," as he selected two or three papers from a mass before him and

carefully tore the rest into pieces, "there is the letter relating to

the document which has already done so much for me, and which is to be

my philosopher's-stone. I must not run the chances of wetting and

spoiling that paper when I take my midnight bath, so I shall hand it

over to Mrs. D. when I give her the money to take care of. May as well

put a seal on it though, for Mrs. D. is naturally curious, and as

jealous as a female Othello. One o'clock; just the time I promised to

meet her. Now then, the money in this pocket, the letter in that, and

the other papers torn up, and the brandy-bottle emptied. What you may

call a clean sweep of the whole concern."

After settling his hat to his satisfaction, and looking at himself in

the glass with great complacency, Tom Durham strolled from the room,

leaving the door wide open behind him. He nodded familiarly to a

waiter whom he passed in the passage, but who, instead of returning

the salutation, stared at him in wrathful wonder--they were

unaccustomed to such gentry at Radley's--and then he passed into the

street. Looking leisurely around him, he made his way back again to

the promenade on which he had held his conversation with Alice

Claxton, and there, standing by one of the cannon, was another woman,

apparently awaiting his arrival. A woman about thirty years of age,

with swarthy complexion, bright beady black eyes, and dull blue-black

hair. French, without doubt. French in the fashion of her inexpensive

garments and the manner in which they were put on; undeniably French

in her boots and gloves, in her gait, in the gesture and recognition

which she made when she saw Tom Durham approaching her. That estimable

gentleman, apparently, was displeased at this gesture, for he frowned

when he saw it, and when he arrived at the woman's side, he said,

"Don't be so infernally demonstrative, Pauline; I have told you of

that before."

"Mais, should I stand like a stone or stock when you come before me?"

said the woman, with the slightest trace of a foreign accent. "I was

longing to see you, and you came. Is it, then, astonishing--"

"No, all right; don't jaw," said Tom Durham shortly. "Only, in our

position it is not advisable to attract more notice than necessary.

Well, here you are."

"Yes, I am here."

"All goes well; I told you there was an old gentleman--Claxton by

name--connected with Calverley's firm, for which I'm supposed to be

going out as agent, from whom I could get a sum of money, and I have

got it--he sent it to me."

"Ah, ah, he sent it to you?"

"Yes, by--by a messenger whom he could trust; and this is not by any

means the last that I shall have from him. He thinks I am off for the

East, and that he is rid of me; but as soon as this sum is spent, he

shall know the difference."

"You have made the arrangements about that?"

"I have arranged everything. I saw the pilot; he told me it was

blowing hard outside, and that he shall pass the night off the Hurst.

I have been on board, and seen exactly how best to do what I intend;

and now there is nothing left but to give you your instructions."

"Stay," said the woman, laying her hand on his breast, and looking

earnestly into his face. "You are certain you run no risk; you are

certain that--"

"Take your hand away," he said; "you will never understand our English

ways, Pauline; the people here cannot make out what you are about. I

am all right, depend upon it. I could swim four times the distance in

much rougher weather; and even if there were any danger, the prize is

much too great to chance the loss of it for a little risk. Don't be

afraid, Pauline," he added, with a little softening of his voice, "but

clear that quick, clever brain of yours and attend to me. Here is the

bundle of bank-notes, and here is a letter which is almost as

important; place them both securely in the bosom of your dress, and

don't take them out for one instant until you hand them over to me

to-morrow morning at Lymington station--you understand?"

"Perfectly," said the woman, taking the packets from him. "What time

will you be there?"

"By half-past seven, when the first train passes. We can loaf away the

day on the beach at Weymouth--we might go over to Portland, if you

have any fancy to see the place; I have not; all in good time, say

I--and start for Guernsey by the midnight boat. Now is there anything

more to say?"

"No," said Pauline; then suddenly, "Yes. Apropos of Portland,

Wetherall and Moger were in this place to-day. I saw them at the

station, in the train going up to town. They put their heads out of

the window to look after you."

"The devil!" cried Tom Durham; "they were down here, were they, and

you saw them? Why, what on earth were you doing at the station?"

"I arrived here too soon, and walked up there to pass the time."

"Did you--did you see any one else?" asked Tom Durham, looking fixedly

at her.

"Any one else? Plenty--porters, passengers, what not; but of people

that I knew, not a soul," answered the woman, raising her eyes and

meeting his gaze with perfect calmness.

"That's all right," he muttered; then louder, "Now it's time for me to

go on board. Goodbye, Pauline; make your way to Lymington, and look

out for me at the station at seven-thirty to-morrow morning."

As she stood looking after him, a hard, defiant expression came over

the woman's face. "Did I see any one else?" she said between her set

teeth; "yes, _mon cher_, I saw the pale, white-faced girl whom you

held in your arms and kissed at parting, and who fell back into the

carriage and cried like a baby, as she is. This, then, was the secret

of your refusing to go to India with the money of this old fool whom

you have robbed! Or rather whom she has robbed; for she was the

messenger who brought it to you, and it is doubtless she who has

beguiled this dotard out of the bank-notes which she handed over to

you, her lover. _Peste!_ If that slavish love I have for you were not

mixed with the dread and terror which I have learnt from experience, I

would escape with this money to my own land, and leave you and your

mignonne to make it out as best you might. But I am weak enough to

love you still, and my revenge on her must wait for a more fitting

opportunity."

Her passion spent, Pauline gathered her shawl tightly round her and

walked away towards the town.

On board the steam-ship Massilia matters had happened pretty much as

Tom Durham had foreseen. That capital sample of the Peninsular and

Oriental Company's fleet worked out of harbour at half-past two, and,

in charge of a pilot, made her way slowly and steadily down

Southampton Water. The wind freshened, and darkness coming on, the

captain decided on anchoring off Hurst Castle for the night, and

proceeding on his voyage at daylight. This decision was greatly to the

delight of the passengers, who had not yet shaken down into that

pleasant companionship which such a voyage frequently brings about,

and who, restless and strange in their unaccustomed position, were

glad to seek their berths at a very early hour. During the afternoon's

run Tom Durham had succeeded in creating for himself a vast amount of

popularity. He chatted with the captain about nautical matters, of

which he had obtained a smattering when he was apprentice on board the

old East Indiaman; he talked to the lady passengers, deprecating their

dread of sea-sickness, and paying them pleasant attention, while he

smoked with the gentlemen, and took care to let them all know the

important position which he occupied, as the agent of Calverley and

Company. Never was there so agreeable a man.

At about one in the morning, when perfect quiet reigned throughout the

ship, the passengers being asleep in their berths, the men, save those

on duty, sound in the forecastle, and the echo of the watch-officer's

footsteps dying away in the distance, Tom Durham suddenly appeared at

the head of the saloon companion, and made his way swiftly towards the

middle of the ship. He was dressed as in the morning, save that he

wore no coat, and that instead of boots he had on thin light slippers.

When he arrived opposite the huge half-circle of the paddle-box he

stopped, and groping with his hands speedily found an iron ring,

seizing which he pulled open a door, which revolved on its hinges,

disclosing a wooden panel, which he slid back, and stepping through

the aperture found himself standing on one of the broad paddles of the

enormous wheel. In an instant he had pulled the first door back to its

previous position, and stepping lightly from paddle to paddle stood on

the nethermost one just above the surface of the water. He paused for

a moment, bending down and peering out into the darkness, then raising

his hands high up above his head and clasping them together, he dived

down into the water, scarcely making a splash.

Ten minutes afterwards, one of the two men always on duty in the

little telegraph hut under Hurst Castle, opened the door, and

accompanied by a big black retriever, who was growling angrily, walked

out into the night. When he returned, his companion hailed him from

the little bedroom overhead.

"What's the matter, Needham--what's the dog growling about?"

"I thought I heard a cry," said the man addressed; "Nep must have

thought so too, by the way he's going on; but I can see nothing. When

I was out a few minutes ago I thought I saw something like a dog

swimming near the Massilia, lying at anchor there, but it isn't there

now. I doubt, after all, it may have been my fancy."

"I wish you would keep your fancy to yourself, and not let it rouse me

up," growled his mate. "One don't get too much rest in this blessed

place at the best of times."

The Yellow Flag: A Novel. Volume 1 (of 3) · 第 2 / 12 章