THE YACHT "BLUE-BELL"
After breakfast the party adjourned to their sitting-room, and there
Brett detailed his immediate plan of action.
"The first point to determine is an important one," he said. "Which of
you three--Sir Hubert Fitzjames, Talbot, or Fairholme--looks most like a
Frenchman?"
The trio at once began to scrutinize each other carefully, to Edith's
intense amusement.
"I am afraid, uncle," she laughed, "we must rule you out at once. You
have 'British Major-General, late Indian Army' stamped so plainly on you
that here in Marseilles, a port accustomed to the weekly transit of P.
and O. passengers, the smallest child could not fail to identify you.
And as for you, Bobby! Good gracious! You are painfully Anglo-Saxon. I
am afraid, Jack, that we must decide against you. That is to say, I
suppose it hurts your vanity to be taken for a Frenchman; but you must
not forget that Mademoiselle Beaucaire thought you were good-looking,
and I suppose she adopts Parisian standards."
Jack was amused by his sister's raillery.
"It is gratifying to find," he said, "that there are some handsome
Frenchmen. But may I ask, Brett, why you wish one of us to haul down the
British flag?"
"Because it is necessary that someone should keep a close eye on Gros
Jean and the Turks. As a matter of fact, Miss Talbot is doubly right.
Sir Hubert Fitzjames might possibly be made up to represent _un vieux
moustache_, but it is essential that he should speak French well."
"Then," cried Sir Hubert decisively, "I am out of court, because my
French is weak, and I always want to go off into Hindustani whenever I
open my mouth. Why, even this morning, when I rang for my hot water, I
said to the waiter, '_Gurrum pani lao_.' I am sure he thought I was
swearing at him."
"Very well," concurred the barrister, "it comes back to you, Talbot, and
I regret to inform you that for the next few hours you must be content
with the inferior cooking and accommodation of the Jolies Femmes Hotel.
If you will come out with me now I will get you rigged up in a cheap
French suit. That, and a supply of bad cigarettes, will provide a
sufficient disguise for your purpose. You must pack a few belongings in
a green tin box and betake yourself to the Jolies Femmes. Do not make
any inquiries about Gros Jean. Simply watch him."
"But what about the Turks?" said Talbot. "Perhaps two of these
scoundrels may be the identical pair who accompanied Dubois to Albert
Gate. It is possible that they may recognize me at once."
"No," said Brett decisively. "This is a different gang. The two men who
committed the murders never came to Paris. Dubois would not hear of it,
I am certain. If you act with discretion, I am sure they will never
suspect you."
"Can't you find me a job?" demanded Fairholme.
"Yes, a most pleasant one. It will be your duty to accompany Miss Talbot
and Sir Hubert, and show them the sights of Marseilles. I will meet you
here at luncheon, but we probably cannot see Mr. Talbot again until late
to-night, when he will have an opportunity to come here quietly and
detail the results of his observations. Of course," he added, addressing
the young man directly, "if anything important happens during the day
you know where to find me, either personally or by messenger."
It was natural that Edith's first steps with her lover and uncle would
tend towards the scene of her overnight adventure. But Miss Talbot was a
clearheaded girl and took no risks. She knew well that in a chance
encounter the sharp eyes of Marie and Eugenie might pick her out unless
she was to some extent shrouded from observation. So she donned a large
Paris hat and a smart costume, which, with the addition of a thick veil,
rendered her very unlike the girl who twelve hours earlier was pursuing
a recalcitrant lover.
Secure in the changed appearance effected by these garments, and
especially in the escort of two such English-looking persons as Lord
Fairholme and Sir Hubert Fitzjames, she walked with them down the
Cannebiere and on the quay. She showed them the street up which she
pursued Mlle. Beaucaire, and the point on the wharf whence the fishing
smack took her departure into the unknown.
Then they strolled back around the harbour, still pursuing the track of
Edith's midnight wanderings, when Fairholme suddenly whistled with
amazement.
"By Jove, look there!" he cried. "That's a piece of luck."
He pointed to the upper part of the basin, in which a number of smart
yachts were anchored side by side. Marseilles is a natural point of
departure for Mediterranean tours, and many yacht-owners send their
vessels there to be coaled and stored for projected trips.
"What is it?" queried Edith, when she could see nothing in the locality
indicated save the vessels and the small expanse of water dancing in the
rays of a bright sun.
"The very best thing that could have happened. There is Daubeney's
yacht, the _Blue-Bell_."
"Yes. So I see. It would be charming if we had time to go for a run
along the Riviera, but I am afraid, whilst Mr. Brett controls our
energies, amusement of that sort will be out of our reach."
"Not a bit of it. You do not see my point, Edith. Daubeney is a
first-rate chap, and a thorough sportsman. Suppose it becomes necessary
for us to follow up Dubois and his fishing-smack, and we let Daubeney
into the know. The _Blue-Bell_ would pursue the _Belles Soeurs_ to
China. He would ask no better fun. I tell you that Brett will be
delighted when he hears of it."
"Yes, dear, but we do not even know that Mr. Daubeney is in Marseilles."
"Let us go and see. It doesn't matter a pin anyhow, because a telegram
from me to him would place the yacht at our disposal, and he would join
us by express at the first possible stopping-place. You do not know what
a good chap Daubeney is."
"No," said Edith shortly. "He is evidently a most useful acquaintance."
It is a most curious fact that young ladies in the engaged stage regard
their _fiancé's_ male friends with extreme suspicion; the more
enthusiastic the man, the more suspicious the woman.
Fairholme, sublimely unconscious of this feminine weakness, continued to
dilate upon the superlative excellences of Daubeney until they reached
the yacht itself.
A smartly-attired sailor was pretending to find some work in carefully
uncoiling a rope which did not satisfy his critical eye. Before
Fairholme could hail the man, a rotund form, encased in many yards of
blue serge, surmounted by a jolly-looking face on top of which was
perched an absurdly small yachting cap, emerged from the companion.
"Why, there he is," shouted the earl. "Halloa, Daubeney! Yoicks!
Tally-ho!"
The person addressed in this startling manner stopped as though he had
been shot. He gazed at the sky and then gravely surveyed the gilded
statue that surmounts the picturesque church of Notre Dame de la Garde.
"Here I am, you idiot," continued Fairholme. "I am not in a balloon. I
am on the quay. Come here quick. I want to introduce you to Edith and
Sir Hubert."
Luckily Miss Talbot's dark doubts had vanished after one keen glance at
Daubeney. He was eminently a safe friend for her future husband. Such a
fat and hail-fellow-well-met individual could not possibly harbour
guile. So she passed over without reference the extent of Daubeney's
acquaintance concerning herself, implied by the use of her Christian
name. Indeed, was there not a compliment in Fairholme's unconscious
outspokenness? If he only discussed her charms with Daubeney then
Daubeney was a man to be cultivated.
The meeting on the quay was hearty in the extreme, and the Honourable
James Daubeney further ingratiated himself by saying: "Even if Lord
Fairholme had not told me who you were, Miss Talbot, I should have known
you at once."
"That would be very clever of you," purred Edith.
"Oh, no, there is nothing remarkable in the fact, I assure you. He
always sat in his chambers so that he could look at your photograph, and
as, in addition to that speaking likeness, I know the colour of your
hair, your eyes, your teeth even, I could not be mistaken."
Miss Talbot thought Mr. Daubeney rather curious. But still he was very
nice, and unquestionably the services of the _Blue-Bell_ might be more
than useful.
So she was graciousness personified in her manner, and promptly
determined to invite him to luncheon, thinking that the chance direction
of their conversation with Mr. Brett might lead towards the use of the
yacht being hinted at.
She counted without Fairholme. The latter slapped his heavy friend on
the back.
"Look here, old chap, are you fixed up for a cruise? Plenty of coal,
champagne, and all that sort of thing?"
"Loaded to the gunwales."
"That's all right, because we may want the _Blue-Bell_ for a month or
so."
"There she is," said Daubeney; "fit to go anywhere and do anything."
Miss Talbot had never heard such extraordinary conduct in her life. She
wondered how two women would have conducted the negotiations. The
question was too abstruse, so she gave it up and contented herself
instead with accepting Daubeney's hearty request that they should
inspect the yacht.
The _Blue-Bell_ was an extremely smart little ship of 250 tons register,
and an ordinary speed of twelve knots. Incidentally Miss Talbot
discovered that the owner made the vessel his home. He was never happy
away from her, and the _Blue-Bell_ was known to every yachtsman from the
Hebrides to the Golden Horn.
To eke out her coal supply she was fitted with sails, and Daubeney
assured his fair visitor that the _Blue-Bell_ could ride out a gale as
comfortably and safely as any craft afloat. Altogether Miss Talbot
congratulated herself on Fairholme's discovery, and she could not help
hoping that their strange errand to Marseilles might eventuate in a
Mediterranean chase.
When the tour of inspection had ended Daubeney suggested an excursion.
"I understand you have never been to Marseilles before, Miss Talbot. In
that case, what do you say if we run over and see the Chateau d'If--the
place that Dumas made famous, you know?"
"Is it far?" said Edith.
"Oh, not very; about a mile across the harbour. Monte Cristo swam the
distance, you know, after his escape."
"Shall we go in the yacht?"
Daubeney bubbled with laughter.
"Well, not exactly, Miss Talbot. You cannot swing a ship of this size
about so easily as all that, you know. I have another craft alongside
that will suit our purpose."
He whistled to a tiny steam launch which Edith had not noticed before,
and without further ado the party seated themselves. They sped rapidly
down the harbour and out through the narrow entrance between the
lighthouses.
No sooner did Edith behold the splendid panorama of rocky coast that
encloses the great outer bay, with its blue waters studded with
delightful little islands, through which fishing boats and small steam
tugs threaded their way towards different points on the coast, than she
clapped her hands with schoolgirl delight.
"I had no idea," she cried, "that Marseilles was half so beautiful. Why,
it is a wonderful place. I have always read about it being hot and
dirty. It certainly is untidy, but to wash its citizens would take away
all the romance! As for the climate being hot, just imagine a day like
this in the middle of November. Can you possibly think what the
sensation would be if you were plunged into a London fog at this moment,
Mr. Daubeney?"
"I have hardly ever seen one," he replied. "I take mighty good care to
be far removed from my beloved country during the fog season."
She sighed. "What it is to be a man and to be able to roam about the
world unfettered."
"It all depends upon the meaning of the word 'unfettered,'" said
Daubeney. "Have you got any sisters, Miss Talbot?"
They all laughed at this inconsequent question. It was impossible to
resist Daubeney's buoyant good nature, and Edith felt certain that in
half an hour she would be calling him "Jimmy."
They sped across the waves towards the Chateau d'If, and drew up
alongside its small landing-stage.
The island supplies an all-the-year-round resort for the townspeople.
Every fine day a steamer runs at intervals to and fro between it and the
inner harbour. The good folk of the south of France, whether Marseillais
or visitors to the city, find a constant delight in taking the short
marine excursion and wandering for half an hour about the rocky
pathways and steep turrets of the famous prison, whilst they listen with
silent awe to the words of the guide when he tells them how the Abbé
died, and shows them the hole between the two walls excavated by Monte
Cristo. So the English visitors found themselves in the midst of a
number of laughing, light-hearted French sightseers.
They wandered round with the crowd until Edith looked at her watch.
"It is past twelve o'clock," she said. "Should we not be going back to
the hotel to lunch? You will come with us, of course, Mr. Daubeney?"
"I am famished with expectation," answered the irrepressible Jimmy, "but
before we go away you certainly ought to climb to the leads and get the
panoramic view of the harbour which the tower affords on a clear day. It
is a sight to be remembered, I promise you."
So they made the ascent, Daubeney leading in his capacity of guide,
though he was quite breathless when they reached the top of the steps.
Edith followed him, and to her alarm perceived that he was purple in the
face. He tried to smile, and indicated by a gesture that he would
recover in a minute. Meanwhile he was speechless.
Fairholme was the next up. He had hardly set foot on the roof before he
exclaimed--
"Well, I'm d----d!"
Edith turned round quickly.
"What on earth is the matter?" she cried. "Why are you using such horrid
language? Mr. Daubeney only hurried a little too fast, that is all."
Fairholme dropped his voice to a whisper.
"Look," he said, indicating with his eyes a distant corner.
Edith followed his glance, and instantly comprehended the cause of his
startled exclamation. For in that quiet spot, far removed from watchful
police or inquisitive hotel servants, stood four men, whom she could not
fail to recognize as Gros Jean, Hussein-ul-Mulk, and the other two
Turks, although, of course, until this moment she had never previously
set eyes on them.
She instantly understood that they must continue to talk and act in the
guise of ordinary tourists. In this respect the presence of Daubeney was
invaluable, for he naturally could not guess the community of interest
between his aristocratic friends and the motley group in the corner.
As soon as he regained his breath, Edith and he commenced a lively
conversation. Sir Hubert joined them, and in the course of their casual
stroll round the tower they passed close to the Frenchman and his
companions, attracting a casual glance from the former, who instantly
set them down as English people bound for the East, and whiling away a
few hours in Marseilles prior to the departure of their steamer.
But another surprise awaited them.
A small staircase led to the top of the turret, which, as already
described, formed part of the angle that sheltered the group of men.
When Edith and the others strolled past the door they glanced inside and
caught sight of a shabby-looking Frenchman, who had paused halfway up
the stairs, and was leaning eagerly forward through an embrazured
loophole, obviously intent on hearing every word uttered by the
quartette beneath.
Fortunately Edith, who was nearest to the door, was completely shrouded
from Gros Jean's observation. Else that astute gentleman might have
noticed her involuntary start of surprise. For the shabby-looking
Frenchman was her brother.
The instant Talbot heard footsteps he naturally turned to see who it was
that approached, and he also was amazed to find Edith's wondering eyes
fixed upon him at a distance of only a few feet.
She nodded her head and placed a warning finger upon her lips. As it
happened, Daubeney caught her in the act, and for the next few moments
that gentleman's emotions were intense, not to say painful.
"Who would have thought it?" he muttered to himself. "A girl like her
making secret signs to a dirty scoundrel of that sort. The beggar was
good-looking, of course; but what--well, I give it up. Poor old
Fairholme! What funny creatures women are, to be sure!"
How much further this soliloquy might have proceeded he knew not, for
Edith sharply interrupted his thoughts.
"You seem to be preoccupied, Mr. Daubeney. What has happened?" she
inquired.
"I--I--really don't know."
His distress was so unmistakable that her quick woman's wit divined the
true cause. They had now sauntered some distance away from the part of
the tower that might be marked "dangerous," so she grasped Jimmy's
ponderous arm, and whispered with a delightful smile--
"You saw me make signs to that Frenchman, didn't you?"
"Well--er--I--er----"
"Oh, yes, I understand. Of course you were surprised. But don't jump
now, or say anything; he is my brother!"
She need not have warned Daubeney as to any remarks he might feel
inclined to make, for her announcement again rendered him speechless.
"It is a mystery," she whispered, "a deep secret. We will tell you all
about it at lunch."