The Lady Henrietta was desolated when Paul and his father announced their
intention of taking a month or six weeks' cruise with Captain Grigsby. So
unnecessary, she said, at this time of the year, almost the beginning of
May, when England was really getting most enjoyable. And they were obliged
to pacify her as best they could.
The Mediterranean! Such miles off--and so eccentric, too, starting when
other people would be leaving! Really, she had never ceased regretting ever
having tolerated her son's travels the year before. Since then there had
been no certainty in any of his movements.
"Darling mother," said Paul, "I must see the world."
And Sir Charles had snorted and chuckled, as was his habit.
So they sailed away from Marseilles, this party of three, like a gunboat
under sealed orders. A cruise to the Greek Isles, and beyond, was what they
said attracted them. "Especially the beyond!" Captain Grigsby had added,
with a grunt to Sir Charles. And if the ardour of love and impatience
boiled in Paul's veins, the spirit of interested adventure animated his old
friend and his parent.
They had not spoken much on the subject to the young man. He had briefly
asked Mark Grigsby to do him this service to take him to a far sea in the
new _Blue Heather_, and there to land him when he should give the word.
May was a fair month, and an adventure is an adventure all the world over,
so Mark Grigsby had given a joyful assent.
Then Sir Charles had suggested accompanying them, and was welcomed by the
other two as a third for their party with extra pleasure.
"I shall grow a young man again before I have done, Grig!" he had said
happily. But down in his heart lurked some undefined fear for Paul, and
that was the real reason for his journey.
They had a pleasant voyage, and picked up letters at Naples, which only
added to Paul's impatience to be there. But they were not to arrive before
the end of May, so the Grecian Archipelago could be investigated.
Life in these sunny seas was a joy to all concerned, and Paul's
eyes--illuminated by his lady's ever-present spirit--saw beauties and felt
shades and balances of which his companions never dreamed. So they came at
last to the Bosphorus and Constantinople.
Here full instructions awaited them. That night Paul took his father and
his friend some way into his confidence, as he showed them the chart and
read aloud the directions. On the 29th of May, should the weather prove
favourable, they were to anchor towards night at a certain spot--latitude
and longitude given--and when they heard a sea-bird cry sharply three
times, Paul was to come ashore to where he would see a green light. Vasili
would be waiting for him, and from there it was but a few steps to the
garden gate of the villa by the sea, in which his lady was passing the
summer. It all seemed perfectly simple--only, the directions added, he must
leave again before dawn, and the yacht be out of sight before daylight, as
complications had occurred since the letter to Naples, and the To-be-hated
one had not left the capital, so things were not so easy to manage, or
safe.
Paul's impatience knew no bounds. The concentrated pent-up longing of all
these months was animating him. To see his lady again! To clasp her! To
kiss her--to kneel to her--and give her homage and worship. And to behold
his little son. Always he carried the minute flaxen curl in a locket, and
often he had looked at it, and tried to picture the wee head from which it
had been cut. But she--his love--would bring his son to him--and perhaps
let him hold him in his arms. Ah! he shut his eyes and imagined the tender
scene. Would she be changed? Should he see the traces of suffering? But he
would caress all memory of pain away, and surely this meeting would only be
the forerunner of others to come. Fate could never intend such deep, true
love as theirs to be apart. An exaltation uplifted him. And if his lady
were a Queen, and wore a crown, he felt himself the greatest king on earth,
for was not he the absolute ruler of her heart? And who could wish for a
more glorious kingdom?
The hours from Constantinople seemed longer than the whole voyage. He could
hardly keep his attention to talk coherently about ordinary things at
meals, and his father and Mark Grigsby left him practically alone.
At last, at last, the 29th of May dawned, boiling hot and cloudlessly fair.
For obvious reasons they stayed beyond sight of the coast until darkness
fell, and then came close inshore. It was a starlit night, with not a
breath of air, and no moon would illuminate their whereabouts.
Paul dressed with the greatest care; never had he been more particular over
his toilet. Tompson found him _exigeant!_
He had broadened and filled out in the past year, and his fair face was
tanned, and blooming with health and excitement.
"The best-looking young devil a woman's eye could light on!" Mark Grigsby
said, as he and Sir Charles watched him descend the gangway to the boat,
when the impatiently awaited signal had been given.
"God keep him safe, Grig," was all Sir Charles could mutter, with a grunt
in his throat.
The maddest excitement was racing through Paul, as he held the tiller-ropes
and made straight for the light. And once he felt in his pocket to assure
himself he had not forgotten Dmitry's pistol, which he had cleaned and
loaded himself that afternoon.
He knew this adventure might be a dangerous one, simple as it looked
superficially, and now he was an expert revolver shot, thanks to constant
practice.
The light proved to be in a little sheltered cove, with a small
landing-stage. And--yes--the man who held it was the Kalmuck, Vasili.
"Welcome, welcome to the _Siyatelstvo_," he whispered, as he kissed Paul's
hand. And then in perfect silence they began to ascend a path. Presently
it stopped abruptly. They had come up perhaps not fifty feet, when their
way was barred by a great nail-studded door.
"Hist!" said Vasili softly, and instantly it was opened from within, and
Dmitry peered anxiously at them.
"Ah, the saints be blessed, the Excellency is safe," he said. But they must
not delay a minute, he added. The Excellency must return to the waiting
boat! A slight but unexpected ill-fortune had befallen them, connected with
the to-be-execrated Troublesome one, and it would not be safe for the
Imperial Highness if the Excellency should land tonight. She had sent him
to say that the Excellency was to keep out at sea for two days, and return
steaming past, and if he saw a white flag flying from the villa roof, then
at night he was to anchor and come ashore at this same time. If not, for
the moment he must go on back to Constantinople, where news and further
instructions would be sent him.
As he spoke Dmitry indicated the return path, and bid the Excellency follow
him, and hasten, hasten. This was a terrible blow to Paul, but the thought
that he might bring danger to his beloved one made him not hesitate a
moment.
They descended the path in silence, and as he stepped into the boat the old
servant whispered, the Imperial Highness had bid him assure the Excellency
that all was well, the meeting was only deferred, when they should have
several days together in safety. "The saints protect the Excellency," the
faithful creature added. Then, when Paul was safely in the boat, he stood
back to make sharply three times the sea-bird's cry.
The weird minor notes floating out on the night seemed a wailing echo of
the agonised disappointment in Paul's heart--more than once a mad impulse
to go back convulsed his being before he reached the yacht--but it was not
till afterwards that he remembered as a strange circumstance the fact that
with Dmitry's first words at the nail-studded door Vasili had vanished into
darkness.