THE "DAPHNE" AGAIN
"Er--'pon my word, Mr. Hammer, I'm--er--glad to be able to apologize!"
"Nonsense, commissioner! Then it's all right with Nairobi?"
"Perfectly, my dear chap, perfectly! Had a bit of a ragging from the
Germans, but Krausz had misrepresented things fearfully, you know,
and that _askari_ business--er--put the governor in a perfectly
beastly rage, I'm told. He gave 'em the man's body with his
compliments. Ripping morning, isn't it?"
"Couldn't be better," grinned Hammer cheerfully. He was sitting in a
deck-chair beneath the _Daphne's_ awning, Sara Helmuth on one side
and Commissioner Smith on the other. His throat was swathed in
bandages, and he had lost his healthy tan, but he was undeniably
happy, and showed it.
"That yarn--er--reminded me of your American tales," went on Smith
rather heavily, as the figure of Solomon appeared coming to join the
group. "Two bad men, don't you know--er--shooting across a bar, and
all that kind of thing. Each one plugs the other--er--double
funeral. Rather exciting thing out here, though, 'pon my word! Very
usual in America, I understand."
"Oh, yes, very," returned Hammer gravely. "Hello, John! Can I smoke
yet?"
"Werry sorry, sir, but against orders. Your servant, Mr. Smith and I
'opes as you're quite well?"
The Commissioner flushed slightly as he shook hands.
"Quite, thanks, very much. Er--narrow escape Mr. Hammer had, by
Jove!"
"Quite so, sir. Missed the jugular by a matter of 'airbreadths, the
doctor said. Prowidence is a werry mysterious thing, sir, as the old
gent said when the 'ousemaid saw a mouse."
"We might show Mr. Smith that reliquary, John," smiled Sara Helmuth,
and her hand stole quite shamelessly over the arm of the deck-chair
to Hammer's.
The _Daphne_ lay anchored off Melindi. The commissioner's launch lay
at the ladder, its crew of two spruce policemen chatting in Kiswahili
with the Arabs above, while the oily ground-swell lifted the yacht at
her anchor.
It was two weeks since Hammer had left the jungle behind for ever, as
he devoutly hoped, and with the commissioner's visit the last weight
had been lifted from his mind.
Not only had he been entirely absolved from any complicity in
Harcourt's death, but Nairobi had been graciously pleased to overlook
entirely the death of Dr. Krausz, and to waive all claims to the
treasure in hand--after the cathedral at Mombasa had been presented
with the relics.
Hammer had little use for relics, but he had been very careful to say
nothing about the reliquaries. Of these, the finest was that
containing the reputed hand of St. Thomas--indeed, Commissioner Smith
declared it, rather vaguely, to be "perfectly ripping--top hole,
don't you know, in such things!"
His judgement proved ultimately to be entirely correct, while the
records, historical and otherwise, contained in the cases, were
declared by Sara Helmuth to be worth a good round sum to any library
in Europe.
As Hammer was not particularly imbued with a love for art, he sold
the three smaller reliquaries to Solomon; and also agreed to carry
that individual back to Port Said on the yacht.
As Solomon said, the gold had waited two hundred years, and it could
wait another few months very well, while he had important business at
Port Said. A crew of sorts had been shipped at Mombasa, and with
Hammer's recovery the voyage home would begin.
"You'd better stick around, commissioner," smiled the American as his
visitor rose. "About a week from now the American Consul is coming
up from Mombasa, and there's going to be some doings, as we say in
America."
"Eh?" Mr. Smith looked blank for a moment, until Sara Helmuth's
blushes proclaimed themselves. Whereupon, being a very observant
young man, his face brightened up, and he seized the American's hand.
"Er--by Jove, old chap--I congratulate you both, 'pon my word I do!
I say, do let me bring my assistant and the lieutenant, eh what?"
"Bring your whole constabulary force," grinned Hammer, "and we'll do
the thing up in style! And come out for dinner Sunday night, Smith."
Quite excited, the commissioner departed. Hand in hand, Hammer and
Sara Helmuth watched his launch puff away toward the green-hilled
shore, until Solomon cleared his throat nosily, and they saw two
Arabs approaching bearing a bulky package.
"Beggin' your pardon, sir and miss," announced Solomon, "but this
'ere's a bit o' summat as aren't to be shown at the weddin', so to
speak. If I may make so bold, miss, as to be a giving of a weddin'
present before the 'appy moment----"
A cry of delight broke from the girl, for as the package fell apart
there was displayed that same fawn-coloured rug, with the blue,
white, and gold dragon of five claws, which Hammer had seen when
first he wakened in Solomon's house.
"It's a rug as you might not care for, first-off," explained Solomon
apologetically, "but it ain't to be bought for money, miss. Where I
got it I 'adn't ought to say, but it 'ad best be kept under cover
till you get out o' these 'ere waters. That's the imperial dragon o'
China, Mr. 'Ammer, and rugs like them ain't made for sale----"
"Oh, it's beautiful!" cried the delighted Sara, Hammer nodding with
appreciative eyes, for he knew that John Solomon's words were
strictly true.
As he looked about, however, he saw the pudgy little man bending over
his little red notebook, writing very carefully with his fountain
pen, and forbore to interrupt.
"Are you glad, girl?" he turned to Sara very soberly, motioning the
Arabs to take away the rug as he did so.
"Hammer, dear," she whispered, "I'm happy!"
His face had lost the old lines of hardness and bitterness, and as he
met her eyes and smiled into them with perfect understanding, he
remembered something.
"But--my name isn't Hammer, dear! You'll have to be Mrs. Cyrus
Murray----"
"Yes, but you'll be just Hammer, to me!"
"There!" and Solomon clapped his notebook shut with a very complacent
air. "I'd been and overlooked that 'ere account wi' Dr. Krausz; but
it's all ship-shape and proper now to file away and 'ave done with."
"Oh, your account!" laughed the American. "That's the one you
presented to him, eh? Do you always keep your accounts, John?"
"Werry good plan, sir. They come in 'andy, like, mortal often, even
if they're filed away. Howsoever, sir and miss, business is all
werry well in its place, but its place ain't between two young
'earts, I says--and since this 'ere account is closed, I'll just file
it away."
And as he shuffled off in his carpet-slippers toward his own cabin,
the two who sat side by side gazed after him for a moment, smiling,
and then turned to each other.
THE END
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