"Good-morning, Mason," Browne said, as he shook hands. "I am glad that
you were able to come up at once, for I want to consult you on most
important business. Sit down, and let us get to work. You were not
long in getting under way."
"I started directly I received your message, sir," the man replied.
"Perhaps you would not mind telling me what it is I have to do."
"I'll very soon do that," Browne replied; "and, if I know anything of
you, you will be glad to hear my needs. I want to see you with regard
to a cruise in Eastern waters. I am tired of the English winter, and,
as you are aware, I have never yet visited Japan, I've suddenly made up
my mind to go out there. How soon do you think you could be ready to
start?"
"For Japan, sir?" the captain replied. "Well, that's a goodish step.
Might I ask, sir, how long you can give me? Are you in a very great
hurry?"
"A very great hurry indeed," Browne said. "I want to get away at the
shortest possible notice; in fact, the sooner you can get away, the
better I shall be pleased. I know you will do all you can."
"You may be very sure of that, sir," said the captain. "If it is
really necessary, I fancy I could be ready--well, shall we say?--on
Monday next. Would that suit you, sir?"
"It would do admirably," said Browne. "I may count, then, on being
able to sail on that day?"
"Certainly, sir," said the captain. "I will catch the next train back,
and get to work without loss of time. Your own steward, I suppose,
will accompany you?"
"Yes," said Browne, for he was convinced that the man was one in whose
honesty and courage he could place implicit reliance, which was just
what would be wanted on such a voyage.
"And how many guests will you be likely to have, sir?" inquired the
captain. "I suppose you will fill all the cabins as usual?"
This was a question to which Browne had not yet given any proper
consideration, though he had practically decided on one person. The
voyage from England to Japan, as all the world knows, is a long one,
and he felt that if he went alone he would stand a very fair chance of
boring himself to death with his own company.
"I am not able to say yet who will accompany me; but in any case you
had better be prepared for one or two. It is more than possible,
however, that we shall pick up a few others in Japan."
"Very good, sir," said Mason. "I will see that all the necessary
arrangements are made. Now I suppose I had better see about getting
back to Southampton."
Having consulted his watch, he rose from his chair, and was about to
bid his employer good-bye, when Brown stopped him.
"One moment more, Mason," he said. "Before you go I have something to
say to you, that is of the utmost importance to both of us." He paused
for a moment, and from the gravity of his face the captain argued that
something more serious was about to follow. "I wanted to ask you
whether you had any sort of acquaintance with the seas to the northward
of Japan, say in the vicinity of the island of Yesso and the Gulf of
Tartary?"
"I cannot say that I have any at all, sir," the other replied. "But I
could easily make inquiries from men who have sailed in them, and
procure some charts from Potter, if you consider it necessary."
"I should do so if I were you," said Browne; "it is always as well to
be prepared. In the meantime, Mason, I want you to keep what I have
said to yourself. I have the most imperative reasons for making this
request to you. A little mistake in this direction may do me an
incalculable amount of harm."
Though he did not in the least understand what prompted the request,
the captain willingly gave his promise. It was easy for Browne,
however, to see that it had caused him considerable bewilderment.
"And there is one other point," Browne continued. "I want you to be
more than ordinarily careful that the crew you take with you are the
best men procurable. I am not going to say any more to you, but leave
you to draw your own conclusions, and to bear in mind that this voyage
is likely to be one of the most, if not _the_ most, important I have
ever undertaken. You have been with me a good many years now, and you
were with my father before me--it is not necessary for me to say not
only as captain, but also as a man who is an old and well-tried friend."
"I thank you, sir, for what you have said," said the captain. "In
reply, I can only ask you to believe that, happen what may, you will
not find me wanting."
"I am quite sure of that," said Browne, holding out his hand.
The captain took it, and, when he had shaken it as if he would
dislocate it at the shoulder, bade his employer good-bye and left the
room.
"So much for breaking the news to Mason," said Browne to himself, when
the door had closed behind the skipper. "Now I must see Jimmy Foote,
and arrange it with him."
He glanced at his watch, and found that it wanted only a few minutes to
twelve o'clock. Ringing the bell, he bade the footman telephone to the
Monolith Club, and inquire whether Mr. Foote were there; and if he were
not, whether they could tell him where it would be possible to find
him. The man disappeared upon his errand, to return in a few moments
with the information that Mr. Foote had just arrived at the club in
question.
"In that case," said Browne, "beg the servants to tell him that I will
be there in ten minutes, and that I want to see him on most important
business. Ask him not to leave until I come down."
The appointment having been duly made, he ordered his cab and set off
in it for the rendezvous in question. On reaching the club--the same
in which he had seen Jimmy on that eventful night, when he had
discovered that Katherine was in London--Browne found his friend
engaged in the billiard-room, playing a hundred up with a young
gentleman, whose only claim to notoriety existed in the fact, that at
the time he was dissipating his second enormous fortune at the rate of
more than a thousand a week.
"Glad indeed to see you, old man," said Jimmy, as Browne entered the
room. "I thought you were going to remain in Paris for some time
longer. When did you get back?"
"Last night," said Browne. "I came over with Maas."
"With Maas?" cried Jimmy, in surprise. "Somebody said yesterday that
he was not due to return for another month or more. But you telephoned
that you wanted to see me, did you not? If it is anything important, I
am sure Billy here won't mind my throwing up the game. He hasn't a
ghost of a chance of winning, so it will be a new experience for him
not to have to pay up."
Browne, however, protested that he could very well wait until they had
finished their game. In the meantime he would smoke a cigar and watch
them. This he did, and as soon as the competition was at an end and
Jimmy had put on his coat, he drew him from the room.
"If you've nothing you want to do for half an hour or so, I wish you
would walk a little way with me, old chap," he said. "I have got
something to say to you that I must settle at once. This place has as
long ears as the proverbial pitcher."
"All right," said Jimmy. "Come along; I'm your man, whatever you want."
They accordingly left the club together, and made their way down Pall
Mall and across Waterloo Place into the Green Park. It was not until
they had reached the comparative privacy of the latter place that
Browne opened his mind to his friend.
"Look here, Jimmy," he said, "when all is said and done, you and I have
known each other a good many years. Isn't that so?"
"Of course it is," said Jimmy, who noticed his friend's serious
countenance, and was idly wondering what had occasioned it. "What is
it you want to say to me? If I did not know you I should think you
were hard up, and wanted to borrow five pounds. You look as grave as a
judge."
"By Jove! so would you," said Browne, "if you'd got on your mind what I
have on mine. It seems to me I've got to find some jolly good friend
who'll see me through as delicate a bit of business as ever I heard of
in my life. That's why I telephoned to you."
"Very complimentary of you, I'm sure," said Jimmy. "But I think you
know you can rely on me. Come, out with it! What is the matter? Is
it a breach of promise case, or divorce, or what is it?"
"Look here, old man, before we go any farther," said Browne, with great
impressiveness, "I want to ask you not to joke on it. It may seem
humorous to other people, but I assure you it's life and death to me."
There was a little silence that might have lasted a minute; then Jimmy
took his friend's arm. "I'm sorry," said he; "only give me a decent
chance and I'm sure to make a fool of myself. I had no idea it was
such a serious matter with you. Now then, what is it? Tell me
everything from beginning to end."
"I will," said Browne. "But I ought to tell you first that I am not
supposed to say anything about it. The secret, while it is mine in a
sense, concerns another person more vitally. If I were the only one in
it I shouldn't care a bit; but I have to think of others before myself.
You may remember that one night--it seems as if it were years ago,
though in reality it is only a few weeks--you and I were walking down
Regent Street together. You told me you had seen a picture in a shop
window that you wanted to show me."
"I remember the incident perfectly," said Jimmy, but this time without
a smile. "It was a very foggy night, and you first kept me waiting
half an hour outside the shop, and then acted like a lunatic
afterwards."
"Well," said Browne, without replying to his friend's comments upon his
behaviour on that occasion, "you may remember that the night following
you dined with me at Lallemand's, and met two ladies."
"Madame Bernstein and Miss Petrovitch," said Jimmy. "I remember. What
next?"
Browne paused and looked a trifle sheepish before he replied, "Well,
look here, old man; that girl, Miss Petrovitch, is going to be my
wife." He looked nervously at Jimmy as if he expected an explosion.
"I could have told you that long ago," said Jimmy, with imperturbable
gravity. "And, by Jove! I'll go further and say that I don't think
you could do better. As far as I could tell, she seemed an awfully
nice girl, and I should think she would make you just the sort of wife
you want."
"Thank you," said Browne, more pleased with Jimmy than he had ever been
before.
"But that only brings me to the beginning of what I have to say," he
continued. "Now I want you, before we go any further, to give me your
word as a friend that, whatever I may say to you, you will not reveal
to any one else. You cannot think how important it is, both to her and
to me."
"I will give you that promise willingly," said Jimmy. "You can tell me
whatever you like, without any fear that I shall divulge it."
"Your promise is all I want," said Browne. Then, speaking very slowly,
and as earnestly as he knew how, he continued: "The truth of the matter
is that that girl is by birth a Russian. Her father had the misfortune
to get into trouble over an attempt upon the Czar's life."
"A Nihilist, I suppose?" said Jimmy.
Browne nodded. "Well, the attempt was discovered, and Katherine's
father was arrested and sent to Siberia, condemned to imprisonment for
life. He was there for many years, but later on he was drafted to the
island of Saghalien, on the eastern coast of Siberia, where he now is."
Jimmy nodded. "After that?"
"Well, on the morning of the second day after that dinner at
Lallemand's, Miss Petrovitch and Madame Bernstein left for Paris, on
some important business, which I now believe to have been connected
with the man who was exiled. I followed her, met her, and eventually
proposed to her. Like the trump she is, she did her best to make me
see that for me to love her was out of the question. Thinking only of
me, she tried to put me off by telling me how impossible it all was.
But instead of doing what she hoped, it only served to show me what a
noble nature the girl possessed."
"She is not rich, I suppose?" asked Jimmy.
"She has not a halfpenny more than three hundred a year assured to
her," the other replied; "and she shares that with Madame Bernstein."
"And yet she was willing to give up a hundred and twenty thousand a
year, and the position she would have in English society as your wife?"
"She was," said Browne.
"Then all I can say, is," said Jimmy, with considerable conviction,
"she must be one in a million. But I interrupted you; I'm sorry. Go
on."
"Well," continued Browne, "to make a long story short, she finished by
telling me the sad story of her life. Of course she said that she
could not possibly marry me, being the daughter of a convict. Then she
went on to add that news had lately come to her--how I cannot say--that
her father is dying. It seems that he has been in failing health for
some years; and at last the terrible climate, the roughness of the
living, and the knowledge that he was hopelessly cut off for the rest
of his existence from all he held dear in the world, has resulted in a
complete collapse. To hope to obtain a pardon from the Russian
Government would be worse than futile. All that remains is to get him
away."
"But, surely, my dear old Browne," said Jimmy, who had listened aghast,
"it cannot be possible that you dream of assisting in the escape of a
Russian convict from Saghalien?"
"That is exactly what I _do_ think," replied Browne, with unusual
earnestness. "Come what may, if it costs me all I am worth in the
world, I am going to get the man out of that hell on earth. Try to
think, my dear fellow, how you would feel if you were in that girl's
place. Her father, the man whom she has been brought up to believe has
been sacrificed for his country's good, is dying. She declares it is
her duty to be with him. How can I let her do that?"
"I admit it is impossible."
"Well, what remains? Either she must go to him, or he must come to
her."
"In plain words, she wants you to risk your good name, all you have in
the world, your happiness, your very life indeed, in order to get a
fanatic out of the trouble he has brought upon himself."
"You can put it how you like," said Browne; "but that is practically
what it means. But remember she is the woman who is to be my wife. If
I lose her, what would life be worth to me?"
This was the crucial part of the interview. For the first time it
struck Browne that he was figuring before his friend in rather a
selfish light.
"I wanted to see you," he began, "in order to find out whether you
would care to accompany me to the Farther East. Remember, I don't want
you to pledge anything. All that I ask of you is to say straight out
whether you would care to come or not. I shall sail in the yacht on
Monday next for Japan. We shall touch at Hong-kong _en route_, where I
am to have an interview with a man who, I believe, has brought off one
or two of these little affairs before. He will tell me what I am to
do, and may possibly do it for me. After that we proceed to Japan,
where we are to pick up Madame Bernstein and Miss Petrovitch. From
that moment we shall act as circumstances dictate."
"And now I want you to tell me one thing," said Jimmy; "what is your
reason for wanting me to accompany you?"
"I will tell you," said Browne. "I want you to come with me, because I
am anxious to have one man on board, a friend, in whom I can place
implicit confidence. Of course Mason will be there; but, as he will
have charge of the boat, he would be comparatively useless to me. To
tell the truth, Jimmy, it will make me easier to know that there is
some one else on board the boat, who will take care of Miss Petrovitch,
in the event of anything happening to me."
"And how long do you propose to be away from England?" his friend
inquired.
"Well, that is a very difficult question to answer," said Browne. "We
may be away three months, possibly we may be six. But you may rest
assured of one thing; we shall not be absent longer from England than
is absolutely necessary."
"And when do you want an answer from me," said Jimmy.
"As soon as you can let me have one," Browne replied. "Surely it
should not take you long to make up your mind?"
"You don't know my family," he answered. "They say I can never make up
my mind at all. Will it do if I let you know by seven o'clock
to-night? I could arrange it by then."
"That would suit me admirably," said Browne. "You don't think any the
worse of me, old chap, for asking so much of you, do you?"
"Angry with you?" answered the other. "Why should I be? You're
offering me a jolly good holiday, in excellent company; and what's
more, you are adding a spice of danger too, which will make it doubly
enjoyable. The only question is whether I can get away."
"At any rate, I'll give you until to-night to make up your mind. I
shall expect to hear from you before seven o'clock."
"You shall hear from me without fail," said Jimmy; "and, if by any
chance I can't manage it, you will understand--won't you?--that it is
not for any want of feeling for yourself."
"I know that, of course," said Browne; and thereupon the two young men
shook hands.
A few moments later Browne bade him good-bye, and, calling a hansom,
drove back to his own house. As soon as he had lunched he wrote to
Katherine to tell her how things were proceeding. The afternoon was
spent in the purchase of various articles which he intended to take
with him. For this reason it was not until after six o'clock that he
returned to his own house. When he did, the butler brought him a note
upon a salver. He opened it, and found, as he expected, that it was
from Jimmy.
"Dear old man," it ran, "I am coming with you, happen what may.--Always
your friend, J. FOOTE."
"That is another step upon the ladder," said Browne.