Why he should have been so surprised at meeting Maas on board the
steamer that evening Browne has never been able to understand. The
fact, however, remains that he was surprised, and unpleasantly so. The
truth of the matter was, he wanted to be alone, to think of Katherine
and of the work he had pledged himself to accomplish. Even when one is
head over ears in love, however, the common usages of society may claim
some moderate share of attention; and, all things considered, civility
to one's friends is perhaps the first of these. For this reason Browne
paced the deck with Maas, watching the lights of Calais growing smaller
each time they turned their faces towards the stern of the vessel.
Every turn of the paddle-wheels seemed to be taking Katherine farther
and farther from him; and yet, was he not travelling to England on her
errand, was he not wearing a ring she had given him upon his finger,
and was not the memory of her face continually with him? Maas noticed
that he was unusually quiet and preoccupied, and attempted to rally him
upon the subject. He was the possessor of a peculiarly ingratiating
manner; and, much to his own surprise, Browne found himself, before
they had been very long on board, telling him the news, that was
destined sorely to trouble the hearts of mothers with marriageable
daughters before the next few weeks were out. "I am sure I
congratulate you most heartily, my dear fellow," said Maas, with a fine
show of enthusiasm. "I have had my suspicions that something of the
kind was in the air for some considerable time past; but I did not know
that it was quite so near at hand. I trust we shall soon be permitted
the honour of making the young lady's acquaintance."
"I am afraid that will not be for some considerable time to come,"
Browne replied.
"How so?" asked Maas. "What are you going to do?"
"As I told you the other day, I am thinking of leaving England on a
rather extended yachting cruise to the Farther East."
"Ah, I remember you did say something about it," Maas continued. "Your
_fiancee_ will accompany you, of course?"
Browne scarcely knew what reply to offer to this speech. He had no
desire to allow Maas to suspect his secret, and at the same time his
conscience would not permit him to tell a deliberate untruth. Suddenly
he saw a way out of his difficulty.
"We shall meet in Japan, in all probability," he answered; "but she
will not go out with me."
"What a pity!" said Maas, who had suddenly become very interested in
what his companion was saying to him. "There is no place like a yacht,
I think, at such a time. I do not, of course, speak from experience; I
should imagine, however, that the rippling of the water alongside, and
the quiet of the deck at night, would be eminently conducive to
love-making."
To this speech Browne offered no reply. The train of thought it
conjured up was too pleasant, and at the same time too sacred, to be
shared with any one else. He was picturing the yacht making her way
across a phosphorescent sea, with the brilliant tropical stars shining
overhead, and Katherine by his side, the only sound to be heard being
the steady pulsation of the screw and the gentle lapping of the water
alongside.
At last the lights of Dover were to be distinctly seen ahead. The
passage had not been altogether a smooth one, and for this reason the
decks did not contain as many passengers as usual. Now, however, the
latter were beginning to appear again, getting their luggage together
and preparing for going ashore, with that bustle that usually
characterises the last ten minutes on board a Channel steamer. Always
an amusing and interesting companion, Maas, on this particular
occasion, exerted himself to the utmost to please. By the time they
reached Charing Cross, Browne had to admit to himself that he had never
had a more enjoyable journey. The time had slipped by so quickly and
so pleasantly that he had been permitted no opportunity of feeling
lonely.
"I hope I shall see you again before you go," said Maas, as they stood
together in the courtyard of the station on the look-out for Browne's
hansom, which was awaiting its turn to pull up at the steps. "When do
you think you will be starting?"
"That is more than I can tell you," said Browne. "I have a great many
arrangements to make before I can think about going. However, I am
certain to drop across you somewhere. In the meantime, can I give you
a lift?"
"No, thank you," said Maas. "I shall take a cab and look in at the
club before I go home. I could not sleep until I have heard the news
of the town; who has married who, and who has run away with somebody
else. Now, here is your cab; so let me wish you good-night. Many
thanks for your society."
Before Browne went to bed that night, he ascended to his magnificent
picture gallery, the same which had been the pride and glory of his
father's heart, and, turning up the electric light, examined a picture
which had lately been hung at the farther end. It was a Norwegian
subject, and represented the mountains overlooking the little
landlocked harbour of Merok. How much had happened since he had last
looked upon that scene, and what a vital change that chance meeting had
brought about in his life! It seemed scarcely believable, and yet how
true it all was! And some day, if all went well, Katherine would stand
in the self-same hall looking upon the same picture, mistress of the
beautiful house and all it contained. Before that consummation could
be brought about, however, they had a difficult piece of work to do.
And what would happen supposing he should never return? What if he
should fall into the hands of the Russian Government? That such a fate
might befall him was far from being unlikely, and it would behove him
to take all precautions in case it should occur. In his own mind he
knew exactly what those precautions would be. Waking from the
day-dream into which he had fallen, he glanced once more at the
picture, and then, with a little sigh for he knew not what, made his
way to his bedroom and retired to rest. Next morning he was up
betimes, and by nine o'clock had telegraphed to Southampton for the
captain of his yacht. At ten o'clock he ordered his hansom and drove
to his lawyers' office in Chancery Lane. The senior partner had that
moment arrived, so the clerk informed him.
"If you will be kind enough to step this way, sir," the youth
continued, "I will conduct you to him."
Browne did as he was requested, and followed him down a passage to a
room at the farther end. Browne's visits were red-letter days in the
calendar of the firm. When the lad returned to his high stool in the
office, it was to wonder how he would spend his time if he were the
possessor of such enormous wealth. It is questionable whether he would
have considered Browne so fortunate had he been made acquainted with
all the circumstances of the case. He was an irreproachable youth in
every way, who during the week wore a respectable black coat and
top-hat, and lived at Blackheath; while on Sundays he rode a tandem
bicycle with the girl of his heart, and dreamt of the cottage they were
to share together, directly the firm could be persuaded to make the
salary, on which it was to be supported, a little more elastic.
"How do you do, my dear Mr. Browne?" inquired the lawyer, rising from
his chair as Browne entered, and extending his hand. "I understood you
were in Paris."
"I returned last night," said Browne. "I came up early because I want
to see you on rather important business."
"I am always at your service," replied the lawyer, bringing forward a
chair for Browne's use. "I hope you are not very much worried."
"As a matter of fact, Bretherton, I have come to see you, because at
last I am going to follow your advice, and--well, the long and the
short of it is, I am going to be married!"
The lawyer almost jumped from his chair in surprise. "I am delighted
to hear it," he answered. "As I have so often said, I feel sure you
could not do a wiser thing. I have not the pleasure of knowing Miss
Verney; nevertheless----"
Browne held up his hand in expostulation. "My dear fellow," he said,
with a laugh, "you are on the wrong scent altogether. What on earth
makes you think I am going to marry Miss Verney? I never had any such
notion."
The lawyer's face was a study in bewilderment. "But I certainly
understood," he began, "that----"
"So have a great many other people," said Browne. "But I can assure
you it is not the case. The lady I am going to marry is a Russian."
"Ah, to be sure," continued the lawyer. "Now I come to think of it, I
remember that my wife pointed out to me in some ladies' paper, that the
Princess Volgourouki was one of your yachting party at Cowes last
summer."
"Not the Princess either," said Browne. "You seem bent upon getting
upon the wrong tack. My _fiancee_ is not a millionairess; her name is
Petrovitch. She is an orphan, an artist, and has an income of about
three hundred pounds a year."
The lawyer was unmistakably shocked and disappointed. He had hoped to
be able to go home that night and inform his wife, that he was the
first to hear of the approaching marriage of his great client with some
well-known beautiful aristocrat or heiress. Now to find that he was
going to espouse a girl, who was not only unknown to the great world,
but was quite lacking in wealth, was a disappointment almost too great
to be borne. It almost seemed as if Browne had offered him a personal
affront; for, although his client was, in most respects, an easy-going
young man, still the lawyer was very well aware that there were times
when he could be as obstinate as any other man. For this reason he
held his tongue, and contented himself with bowing and drawing a sheet
of note paper towards him. Then, taking up a pen, he inquired in what
way he could be of service.
"The fact of the matter is, Bretherton," the other began, "I have a
communication to make to you which I scarcely know how to enter upon.
The worst of it is that, for very many reasons, I cannot tell you
anything definite. You must fill in the blanks according to your own
taste and fancy; and, according to how much you can understand, you can
advise me as to the best course for me to pursue."
He paused for a moment, and during the interval the lawyer withdrew his
glasses from his nose, polished them, and replaced them. Having done
so, he placed his finger-tips together, and, looking at Browne over
them, waited for him to proceed.
"The fact of the matter is," said the latter, "before I marry I have
pledged myself to the accomplishment of a certain work, the nature of
which I cannot explain--I have given my word that I will reveal
nothing. However, the fact remains that it will take me into some
rather strange quarters for a time; and for this reason it is just
possible that I--well, that you may never see me again."
"My dear Mr. Browne," said the lawyer, aghast with surprise, "you
astonish me more than I can say. Can it be that you are running such
risk of your own free-will? I cannot believe that you are serious."
"But I am," Browne replied; "perfectly serious."
"But have you considered everything? Think what this may mean, not
only to the young lady you are about to marry, but to all your friends."
"I have thought of everything," said Browne.
The lawyer was, however, by no means satisfied. "But, my dear sir," he
continued, "is there no way in which you can get out of it?"
"Not one," said Browne. "I have given the matter my earnest attention,
and have pledged myself to carry it out. No argument will move me.
What I want you to do is to make my will to suit the exigencies of the
case."
"Perhaps it would not be troubling you too much to let me know of what
they consist," said the lawyer, whose professional ideas were
altogether shocked by such unusual--he almost thought insane--behaviour.
"Well, to put it in a few words," said Browne, "I want you to arrange
that, in the event of anything happening to me, all of which I am
possessed, with the exception of such specific bequests as those of
which you are aware, shall pass to the lady whom I would have made my
wife had I not died. Do you understand?"
"I understand," said the lawyer; "and if you will furnish me with the
particulars I will have a fresh will drawn up. But I confess to you I
do not approve of the step you are taking."
"I am sorry for that," Browne replied. "But if you were in my place I
fancy you would act as I am doing." Having said this, he gave the
lawyer the particulars he required; and, when he left the office a
quarter of an hour or so later, he had made Katherine Petrovitch the
inheritor of the greater part of his enormous wealth. Whatever should
happen to him within the next few months she would at least be provided
for. From his lawyer's office he drove to his bank to deposit certain
papers; then to his tailor; and finally back to his own house in Park
Lane, where he hoped and expected to find the captain of his yacht
awaiting him. He was not disappointed. Captain Mason had just
arrived, and was in the library at that moment. The latter was not of
the usual yachting type. He was short and stout, possessed an
unusually red face, which was still further ornamented by a fringe of
beard below his chin; he had been at sea, man and boy, all his life,
and had no sympathy with his brother-skippers who had picked up their
business in the Channel, and whose longest cruise had been to the
Mediterranean and back. He had been in old Browne's employ for ten
years, and in that of his son after him. What was more, he had earned
the trust and esteem of all with whom he was brought in contact; and
when Browne opened the door and found that smiling, cheerful face
confronting him, he derived a feeling of greater satisfaction than he
had done from anything for some considerable time past.