Their first business when they reached the deck was to glance in the
direction whence they had last seen the cruiser. Then she had been a
living and very present reality to them; now she was only a tiny speck
upon the horizon, and in a quarter of an hour, or even less, she would
have vanished altogether. They made their way aft to the taffrail, and
stood there leaning on the rail, looking at her. Both felt that it was
a crisis in their lives, that had to be tided over, and knew that, if
ever they desired to be happy together, they must fight the next ten
minutes on their merits. For this reason, perhaps, they began by being
unusually silent. It was Katherine who spoke first.
"Dearest," she commenced very slowly, "I want you to listen to me and
not to speak until I have finished. I have something to say to you,
and I don't quite know how to say it. I don't want you to think that I
am capricious, or that I think only of myself. In this I am thinking
of you, and of your happiness only."
"I can quite believe that," Browne replied, trying to force down the
lump that was rising in his throat. "But I must hear you out before I
can say more. What is it you have to say to me?"
"I want you"--here she paused as if she were fighting for breath--"I
want you to give up any idea of marrying me, and to put me ashore at
the first port at which you call. Will you do this?"
Nearly a minute elapsed before Browne answered. When he did his voice
was curiously husky.
"Katherine," he said, "this is just like you. It is like your noble
nature to try and make my path smoother, when your own is so difficult
that you can scarcely climb it. But you don't, surely, suppose that I
should do what you ask--that I should give you up and allow you to go
out of my life altogether, just because you have been tricked as I have
been?"
She glanced up at him with a face as white as the foam upon which they
looked. What she would have replied I cannot say; but at that moment
MacAndrew, accompanied by Jimmy Foote, appeared on deck. The latter
approached them and asked Browne if he could spare him a few minutes.
Not being averse to any proposal, that would tend to mitigate the
severity of the ordeal he was then passing through, Browne consented.
"What is it you want with me?" he asked, as savagely as if he were
being deliberately wronged. "For Heaven's sake, Jimmy, be easy with
me! You can have no idea what the strain of the last few minutes has
been."
"I know everything, my son," rejoined Jimmy quietly. "Do you think I
haven't been watching you of late? That is exactly what I am here for.
Poor old boy, you've been on the rack a shade too long lately; but I
think I can put that right if you'll only let me. I've great news for
you."
"I don't know what sort of news you can have that will be acceptable to
me," replied Browne lugubriously. "I'm carrying about as much just now
as I can possibly manage. What is it?"
"Do you think you're altogether fit to hear it?" he asked. "And what
about Miss Petrovitch? Can you leave her for a few moments?"
"I will speak to her," Browne answered, and accordingly went back to
Katherine. A moment later he rejoined Foote.
"Now then, what is it?" he cried almost fiercely. "What fresh
treachery am I to discover?"
"Come to the smoking-room," Jimmy began. "I can't tell you here on
deck, with all the world trying to overhear what I have to say."
When they reached the cabin in question Browne discovered MacAndrew
there, sitting on one of the marble tables and smoking a cigarette.
"I don't know what you think about it, Mr. Browne," remarked the
latter; "but it strikes me now, that we have come very well out of that
little encounter with our Muscovite friend over yonder. The idea
they've got in their heads is that the runaway and myself are not on
board; and if I know anything of their tactics, they will patrol the
coast for the next week or ten days in the expectation of your coming
back to pick us up."
"I wish them joy of their stay," Browne replied. "By the time they're
tired of it we shall be safely out of reach. But what is it you have
to say to me, Jimmy? You didn't bring me here to talk about the
cruiser, I suppose?"
"I did not," said Jimmy, with a great show of importance. "I brought
you to talk about something far more interesting. Look here, old man,
I don't, of course, know what your feelings may be; but I've got a sort
of a notion that--well, to put it in plain words--that you're none too
pleased with your prospective father-in-law. He doesn't quite come up
to your idea of the man whom you had been told suffered martyrdom for
his country's good--eh?"
"I have never said that I disapproved of him," Browne retorted. "I
don't know why you should have got this notion into your head."
"You're very loyal, I must say, old man," continued Jimmy; "but that
cat won't fight--not for an instant. Any one could see that. No, no;
I know as well as if you had told me, that you're as miserable as a man
can well be, and so is Miss Petrovitch. I don't wonder at it. I
expect I should be as bad if I were likely to be blessed with such a
papa. I should be inclined to wish him back again in the wilds of
Saghalien."
"Oh, for Heaven's sake, get on with what you've got to say!" cried
Browne. "Why do you keep me on the rack like this?"
Jimmy, however, was not to be hurried. He had never had such a hand to
play before, and he was determined to make the most of it.
"It was MacAndrew there who made the discovery," he replied. "I only
came in at the end, like the Greek Chorus, to explain things. The fact
of the matter is, Browne, when our friend here and the little
red-haired gentleman were shut up together in the tunnel, the former
elicited the information (how he managed it I am not prepared to say)
that the name of the ex-convict is not Polowski or Petrovitch, but
Kleinkopf; that he is not a Nihilist, as we have been led to believe,
but a diamond-thief of the first water."
He paused to hear what Browne would say, and, if the truth must be
confessed, he was mortified to find that the other betrayed no sort of
surprise.
"I know all that," answered his friend. "Have you discovered nothing
else?"
"A heap more," continued Jimmy; "but perhaps you know that, too. Are
you aware that the convict is the famous Red Rat, who once defied the
united police of Europe? Well, he is! He is also--and, mark you, this
is the greatest point of all--he is no less a person than _Madame
Bernstein's husband_!"
"Madame Bernstein's husband?" cried Browne, in stupefied surprise.
"What on earth do you mean by that? I warn you not to joke with me.
I'm not in the humour for it."
"I'm not joking," Jimmy returned, with all gravity. "I'm telling you
this in deadly earnest. The Red Rat is Madame Bernstein's husband. He
was sentenced to transportation for life in St. Petersburg, was sent to
Siberia, and later on was drafted to Saghalien."
"Is this true, MacAndrew?" inquired Browne. "You should know."
"It is quite true," said MacAndrew. "For my part, I always thought he
was the man you were trying to rescue. If you will look at it you will
find that he tallies exactly with Madame's description of the man we
wanted."
"Oh heavens! how we have been deceived!" groaned Browne. Then, as
another thought struck him, he added, "But if this is so, then Miss
Petrovitch's father is still in captivity."
"No," said MacAndrew; "he has escaped."
"What do you mean? When did he escape?"
"He is dead. He died early last year."
A silence that lasted upwards of five minutes fell upon the trio.
"The more I think of it the farther I am from understanding it," Browne
said at last. "Why should I have been singled out for the task of
rescuing this man, in whom I don't take the least bit of interest?"
"Because you are rich," muttered Jimmy. "Why, my dear fellow, it's all
as plain as daylight, now that we've got the key to the puzzle. Madame
was aware that Miss Petrovitch would do anything to rescue her father,
and so would the man she loved. Therefore, when you, with your money,
your influence, and, above all, your yacht, came upon the scene, she
took advantage of the opportunity Providence had sent her, and laid her
plans accordingly. You know the result."
"And while Miss Petrovitch has been wearing her heart out with anxiety
to save her father, this heartless woman has been deceiving her--to
whom she owes everything--and adapting our means to secure her own
ends."
"It looks like it--does it not?" said Jimmy. "Now, what do you intend
doing? Remember, you have two traitors to deal with--Madame Bernstein
and Mr. Maas."
"I don't know what to do," replied poor Browne, "It is sufficiently
vexatious. I shall have to tell Miss Petrovitch, and it will break her
heart. As for Maas, we must consider what is best to be done with him.
I'll have no mercy on the brute."
"Oh yes, you will," argued Jimmy. "Whatever you are, you are not
vindictive, Jack. Don't try to make me believe you are."
Leaving the two men together, Browne went in search of his sweetheart.
When he found her, he summoned up all the courage he possessed and told
her everything from the beginning to the end. She was braver than he
had expected, and heard him out without comment. Only when he had
finished, she rose from her seat, and asked him to excuse her, saying
that she would go to her cabin for a little while.
A little before sunset that afternoon a small brig was sighted, five
miles or so away to the south-west. A course was immediately shaped to
intercept her. Her attention having been attracted, she hove to and
waited for the boat, that Mason warned her he was sending. When she
put off the third officer was in charge, and MacAndrew was sitting
beside him in the stern sheets. They returned in something under an
hour, and immediately on his arrival on board MacAndrew made his way to
the smoking-room, where he was closeted with Browne for upwards of an
hour. After that he went below with Jimmy Foote.
The orb of day lay like a ball of fire upon the horizon when they
reappeared. This time they escorted no less a person than Maas
himself, who looked as if he were scarcely awake. Without inquiring
for them or asking leave to bid his host and hostess farewell, he
disappeared down the accommodation-ladder, and took his place in the
boat alongside, and his traps were bundled in after him. Half an hour
later the boat returned, but this time Maas was not in her. MacAndrew
ascended to the deck, and once more made his way to the smoking-room.
He found Browne and Jimmy there as before.
"They will land him at Tomari in the Kuriles in three months' time," he
reported, with what appeared to be considerable satisfaction.
"Tomari is the capital of Kunashiri Island," said Jimmy, who had turned
up a copy of the _China Sea Directory_ during the short silence that
followed. "It has a permanent population of about one thousand five
hundred souls, which is largely increased in summer time by fishermen."
"You are sure he will be quite safe," asked Browne. "Scoundrel and
traitor though he is, I shouldn't like to think that any harm would
befall him."
"You need not be afraid," replied MacAndrew. "He is quite able to look
after himself. Besides, the skipper is an old friend of mine, and a
most respectable person. He will take every care of him, you may be
sure. You have paid him well enough to make it worth his while."
After that, for the remainder of the voyage, the name of Maas was never
mentioned by any of the party. Even to this day Browne scarcely likes
to hear it spoken. Nor does he permit himself to dwell very often upon
what happened a few days later, when, after a most uncomfortable
interval, the yacht rounded Hakodate Headland and came to an anchor in
the harbour.
"Leave everything to me," said MacAndrew, when he went into the
smoking-room to bid Browne farewell. "I know how painful an interview
would be for you all, and I think you can very well dispense with it.
I believe they are ready to go ashore."
"In that case, let them go. I never wish to see their faces again."
"I can quite understand it; and now I must bid you farewell myself. I
am sorry our adventure has not turned out more successfully; but at any
rate you have had a run for your money, and you have seen something of
life in the Far East."
"I have, indeed," said Browne. "Now, tell me of the arrangements you
have made concerning these two miserable people. What will happen to
them eventually?"
"They can do as they think best," replied MacAndrew. "They can either
stay here or go wherever they please. The Nippon Yusen Kwaisha Line
call here thrice weekly; and from Yokohama you can reach any part of
the known world."
"But they are practically penniless," said Browne. Then, taking an
envelope from his pocket, he handed it to MacAndrew. "If you can find
an opportunity of delivering it, will you contrive to let them have
this? There is something inside that will keep the wolf from the door,
for a time at least."
MacAndrew looked at him a little curiously. He was about to say
something, but he checked himself, and, stowing the envelope away in
his pocket, held out his hand.
"You were not inclined to trust me when first we met; but I hope you
are satisfied now that I have done my best for you."
"I am more than satisfied," replied Browne. "I am very grateful. I
wish you would let me do something to help you in return."
"You _have_ helped me," MacAndrew answered. "You have helped me
amazingly; more perhaps than you think. Now, good-bye, and may good
luck and every happiness go with you."
"Good-bye," said Browne; and then the tall, graceful figure passed
along the deck in the direction of the main companion-ladder. A few
moments later the sound of oars reached his ears; and when they could
no longer be heard Browne went in search of Katherine and Jimmy Foote.
"Well, old man," asked the latter when the screw had begun to revolve
once more, "what now? What is the next thing?"
"The next thing," Browne replied, seating himself beside Katherine as
he spoke, and taking her hand, "is Yokohama, and a wedding, at which
you shall assist in the capacity of best man."
That night the lovers stood on deck, leaning against the bulwarks
watching the moon rise from behind a bank of cloud.
"Of what are you thinking, sweetheart?" Browne inquired, looking at the
sweet face beside him. "I wonder if I could guess."
"I very much doubt it," she answered, with a sad little smile. "You
had better try."
"You were thinking of a tiny land-locked harbour, surrounded by
snow-capped mountains, were you not?"
"Yes," she replied; "I certainly was. I was thinking of our first
meeting in Merok. Oh, Jack! Jack! how much has happened since then!"
"Yes," he continued slowly. "A great deal has happened; but at least
there are two things for which we should be thankful."
"And what are they?"
"The first is that we are together, and the second is that you are not
THE RED RAT'S DAUGHTER!"
THE END.
Butler & Tanner, The Selwood Printing Works, Frome, and London.