It was on a bleak and windy night in December that we were driven
through a pelting rain to one of the docks on the North River, which our
steamer was to leave at high tide in the early morning. When we alighted
Mr. Murmurtot stood shivering in a greatcoat and muffler close by the
passengers' entrance.
“This is a good place for a warm greeting,” said he, taking Hester's
hand. “I've stood here so long that my teeth are chattering from the
cold.”
“Won't you come aboard with us?” I asked.
“Not yet,” he replied; “but I expect to sail with you in the morning.”
“'Sa rough night, sir,” said the porter who carried our luggage, “but
we'll find it a bit rougher outside, I'm feered, afore anither night.”
Fatigued by a long day of arduous work, we went at once to our
staterooms. I was soon asleep after getting into my berth, but was
awakened by the tramp of feet on the upper decks and the shouting of
the crew long before the ship left her moorings. They reminded me of
the first night I had ever spent on an ocean steamer--the night I left
Liverpool on that journey fraught with danger I had not then dreamed
of. I had grown old very fast under the influences that had come into my
life since then. Indeed, I was now a man, whereas I had been only a boy
when I left England. But Rayel was with me now, and that repaid me for
all I had suffered. What would he have done in that lonely mansion
after his father's death? For hours my mind was occupied with these
reflections, and at length I determined to dress myself and go on deck.
Rayel awoke while I was dressing and decided to go with me.
We found the decks thronged with people, and the ship's crew were
bustling about, getting ready to sail. We stood near the gangway, facing
the dock. A man was pacing back and forth in the opening whose figure
seemed familiar to me. Presently he came aboard, and as he passed near
us I saw it was the omnipresent Mr. Murmurtot.
“I wonder if he is afraid somebody will steal the ship?” I remarked.
“No, he is looking for some person,” said Rayel, divining my thoughts.
“All ashore! Stand away, there!” shouted one of the ship's officers.
The passengers fell back, the gangway was pulled aboard, the great
hawsers were loosened, and the ship moved slowly away from the dock. We
stood for a long time watching the river craft and the receding lights
of the city. The ship was well beyond the Atlantic Highlands when we
went to our stateroom and to bed again. We slept until late in the
morning, and arose barely in time for a late breakfast with Hester.
Rayel seemed cheerful enough and took more than ordinary interest in
his surroundings. When we had risen from the table he led me aside and
directed my attention to a short, stout man with a bristly growth of
close-cropped black hair, a low forehead and shaggy eyebrows, who was
leaning lazily against the railing of the stairway.
“Let us avoid him,” he whispered. “I do not like his looks.”
What can this mean? I asked myself, as we all proceeded to the deck.
Perhaps he was the man the detective was looking for.
It was a beautiful sunlit afternoon, and the vessel rode steadily in a
sea that was growing quiet under the dying impulse that the winds had
left behind them. We drew our chairs together on the deck near the stern
of the vessel, and had settled down for a quiet chat among ourselves
when we were unexpectedly joined by Mr. Murmurtot.
“Delighted, I'm sure!” he exclaimed, with the same inimitable drawl I
had noted on the occasion of our first meeting. I soon observed that
the artful little gentleman was master of an elaborate system of
exclamations by which he encouraged one to talk freely without saying
anything himself.
In response to my assertion that we had been exceedingly busy getting
ready for the trip he said simply: “Indeed!”
It was a very unusual burst of confidence in which he was moved to
express his views with any greater freedom. When the remark which
preceded it was evidently expected to meet with Mr. Murmurtot's
concurrence, then he would say, “Yes, indeed!”
If the remark were one to which this response would be inappropriate he
often went to the extent of observing, “I dare say!” seemingly
ventured after careful consideration of the chances for and against the
proposition which provoked it.
“My dear sir, I do not agree with you,” he would always say when he felt
compelled to differ with me. If the difference in our views chanced to
be extremely radical, he would throw particular emphasis upon the word
“dear,” as a sort of recompense for his opposition. These forms of
speech, with occasional and slight variations, were always employed by
Mr. Murmurtot as a medium of thought and sentiment.
In the midst of our conversation I noticed the man whom Rayel had
pointed out to me when we arose from the breakfast-table. He was
standing against the rail, not twenty feet from where we sat, and as I
looked at him he turned away and walked leisurely down the deck. In a
moment Rayel was on his feet, and, excusing himself, he proceeded in
the same direction. An hour later, as he had not returned, I left Hester
with Mr. Murmurtot and went forward in quest of him. He was in the
reading-room, apparently interested in a newspaper. As he did not
observe me, I sat down behind his chair without disturbing him. To my
surprise I saw that he was not reading the paper, but that his eyes were
furtively watching the mysterious stranger he had followed, who sat
on the other side of the room listlessly puffing at a cigarette. I was
seated scarcely a moment when Rayel seemed to be aware of my presence.
Looking from face to face until he had discovered me he arose and came
to my side.
“I was trying to read a newspaper,” said he, leading the way to the
door, “but reading is still hard work for me.”
“I saw that you did not seem to be looking at the paper,” said I, as
we proceeded to the deck. He made no reply, but stopped and looked out
across the waste of waters at the horizon.
“Do you know that man?” I asked.
For a moment I stood waiting for his answer. Apparently he had not heard
my question, and I repeated it in a somewhat louder tone.
He turned suddenly with an impatient exclamation. There was a flash of
anger in his eyes as he faced me. I had never seen him in such a mood
before.
“Forgive me,” said he. “I am only angry with myself. Come, Hester will
be looking for us.”
I did not venture again to refer to our bristly fellow-passenger in
Rayel's presence. Never inclined to talk much, even with me, he was
becoming more silent than ever as the voyage continued. Day by day his
interest in that strange man seemed to increase. He spent as little time
as possible in my company. When not with me he was hounding him about
the ship, keeping him in sight from some favorable point of observation.
What was the meaning of it? The question forced itself upon my mind
persistently by day and night, and begat in me a gloomy reticence which
Hester was quick to observe. Every day I expected some revelation from
Rayel, but he said nothing about the man in whom he had taken such
extraordinary interest.
We had been over a week at sea, and I was sitting alone one afternoon,
when Mr. Murmurtot came along and asked if he might introduce an
acquaintance of his whom I ought to know. Then he went to find the
gentleman, saying that he would return in a few moments. He had no
sooner left me than my mind reverted to the man who had been the bugbear
of my thoughts since we left New York. Presently Mr. Murmurtot touched
my arm. Looking up suddenly, I saw standing before me the very man of
whom I had been thinking.
“Mr. Lane, let me introduce you to Mr. Fenlon,” said the detective.
I shook the hand that was extended to me mechanically, and made some
incoherent response--I do not remember what. I had been taken by
surprise. My voice was unnatural and my strength seemed to have left me
suddenly.
“Are you not well, sir?” he asked.
“No, sir, he is not well yet.”
It was the voice of Rayel that answered for me. He was standing by my
side, his lips tightly drawn, and his eyes fixed upon the man Fenlon.
There was a terrible look on his face as he stood there towering above
us. The man turned pale and moved quickly backward two or three steps,
staring at my cousin as if in fear of receiving a death-blow. For an
instant, only, he stood like some fierce animal at bay, then turned
and walked hurriedly down the deck. The situation was made all the more
impressive by the interval of silence that followed Rayel's words.
“Forgive me,” said Mr. Murmurtot, taking my hand, “if this meeting was
unpleasant. It was necessary.” Then he bowed politely and walked away.
The sun was just going down as Rayel and I entered the cabin, where
Hester was waiting for us.
“The captain thinks we will reach Southampton before five in the
morning,” said she.
I was glad to learn that our voyage was so near its end.