Crawshay knocked at the door of the captain's room, received a
stentorian invitation to enter, and sank a little plaintively into a
vacant easy-chair. The purser, who had been in close confabulation
with his chief, hastily took his leave.
"Good morning, sir," the visitor said languidly.
"Good morning, Mr. Crawshay," the captain replied. "Feeling a little
stronger this morning, I hope?"
Crawshay sighed.
"The memory of that experience," he began, settling down in his
chair,--
"Well, well, you ought to have got over that by this time," the
captain interrupted. "What can I do for you, Mr. Crawshay? I have been
yarning with the purser a little longer than usual, this morning, and
I have some rounds to do."
"I must not stand in the way of your daily avocation," the newcomer
said gloomily. "I really dropped in chiefly to see if by any chance
you had had a wireless message about me."
"Not a word."
"No message, eh? Now, do you know, that seems to me exceedingly
strange," Crawshay ruminated.
"I don't see why it should," was the somewhat brusque reply. "I have
no doubt that the New York papers have some wonderful headlines--'How
an Englishman catches the steamer!' or 'An English diplomatist, eager
to fight'--and all that sort of thing. But apart from the spectacular
side of it, I don't suppose they consider your adventure of national
interest."
"On the contrary, it is the development of a new era," Crawshay
replied, with dignity. "Just consider what actually happened. I miss
the steamer, owing to the breakdown of the Chicago Limited and a
subsequent automobile accident. I arrive at the dock whilst you are in
the shadow of the Statue of Liberty. What do I do? What no one else
has ever done before! I fly after you! Romance has never pictured such
a thing. I am a pioneer, Captain."
The Captain grinned.
"You've been pretty sorry for yourself ever since," he observed.
"I must confess that I made up my mind to the heroic deed in a rash
moment," Crawshay acknowledged. "I am a person of strong and
unconquerable impulses. You see, that exceedingly disagreeable
American policeman who was sent up to Halifax on a fool's errand with
me, and who subsequently led me on another to Chicago, bet me five
hundred dollars, as we stood upon the dock, that I couldn't catch that
steamer. Now if there is one thing," he went on, crossing his legs,
"which excites my interest more than another, it is a bet."
"That and your accent," the captain said, smiling, "are two of your
most prominent British traits, Mr. Crawshay." The latter took out his
eyeglass and polished it.
"I have others," he retorted, "but never mind. I understood you to
say, I think, that you have heard nothing by wireless about me?"
"Not a word."
The captain glanced at his clock and showed some signs of impatience.
His visitor, however, remained blandly imperturbable.
"I see that you have only one operator in the wireless room," he
remarked.
"How do you know that?"
"I happened to be walking by last night, and I glanced in."
"We are short-handed," the captain explained.
"Quite naturally," Crawshay replied. "Now with reference to this young
man, I watched him coming down the steps from his office this morning.
You may be surprised to hear, Captain, that I found him
unprepossessing--in fact I might almost say that I took a dislike
to him."
"I am sure he would be very much disturbed if he knew your opinion,"
was the faintly sarcastic reply. "He happens to be a young man with
exceptionally good credentials."
"Credentials," Crawshay observed blandly, "in which I have no
faith--no faith whatever."
The captain turned his head suddenly. There was a new expression in
his face as he looked keenly at his visitor.
"What do you mean, Mr. Crawshay?"
"Nothing much. I see you have been smoking a pipe, Captain. You will
forgive me if I light one of these perfectly damnable cigarettes which
are all I have been able to buy on board.--Thank you.--I talk better
when I smoke."
"It seems to me that you talk a great deal of nonsense," the captain
declared bluntly.
"Intermingled at times," the other insisted, "with a word or two of
sense. Now I am going to repeat that I have very little faith in this
wireless operator of yours. At three o'clock this morning--I don't
wish to tie myself down, Captain, so I will say in the vicinity of
that hour--he received a message--a long one, I should imagine. I put
it to you, sir--was that dispatch for you?"
"No," the captain admitted, "I had no message at that hour or since."
"Very-well, then," Crawshay continued, loosening a little muffler at
his throat, "I suppose you can ascertain from the purser if any
message was delivered to any one of your passengers?"
"I certainly can," the captain admitted, "but to tell you the truth,
sir, I scarcely see how this concerns you."
"I am endeavouring," his visitor replied, with a little wave of his
hand, "to justify my statement. Enquire of the purser, I beg you. It
will do no harm."
The captain shrugged his shoulders, touched the bell and despatched
his steward for Mr. Dix, the purser, who, happening to be on the deck
outside, made an immediate appearance.
"Mr. Dix," the captain asked him, "can you tell me if you have
received any wireless message intended for any one of the passengers
at or since three o'clock this morning?" "Not one, sir."
Crawshay's smile was beatific and triumphant. He relit his cigarette
which had gone out, and, crossing his legs, made himself a little more
comfortable.
"Very well, then," he said, "what I should like to know is, what
became of that message which made very pretty illuminations around
your conductor, or whatever you call it, for at least a quarter of an
hour this morning?"
"The message may merely have been an intercepted one," the purser
pointed out. "It may not have been fur us at all."
"I had an idea," Crawshay persisted, with bland and officious
precision, "that even intercepted messages, especially in time of war,
were referred to some person of authority on board. Apart from that,
however, the message I refer to was written down and delivered to one
of your passengers. I happened to see your operator leave his office
with an envelope in his hand."
"At three o'clock in the morning?" the captain observed incredulously.
"At about a quarter of an hour past that time," the other assented.
"And what on earth were you doing about on deck?"
"I have strange habits," Crawshay confessed. "On board ship I indulge
them. I like to sleep when I feel like it, and to wander about when I
feel inclined. After my extraordinary, my remarkable experience of
yesterday, I was not disposed for slumber." "It appears to me, sir,"
the purser intervened, "that on board this ship you seem to do a great
deal of walking about, considering you have only been with us for a
little more than twelve hours."
"Liver," Crawshay explained confidentially. "I suffer intensely from
my liver. Gentle and continual exercise is my greatest help."
The captain turned towards his junior officer.
"Mr. Dix," he suggested, "perhaps it will clear this little matter up
if we send for Robins. You might just step out yourself and bring
him round."
Crawshay extended an eager hand.
"I beg that you will do nothing of the sort," he pleaded.
"But why not?" the captain demanded. "You have made a definite charge
against a wireless operator on the ship. He ought to be placed in the
position to be able to refute it if he can."
"There is no doubt," Crawshay agreed, "that in course of time he will
be given that opportunity. At present it would be indiscreet."
"And why?"
"Because there will be other messages, and one is driven to the
conclusion that it would be exceedingly interesting to lay hands on
one of these messages, no record of which is kept, of which the purser
is not informed, and which are delivered secretly to--"
"Well, to whom?" the captain demanded.
"To a passenger on board this steamer."
The captain shook his head. His whole expression was one of
disapproval.
"Nonsense!" he exclaimed. "If Robins has failed in his duty, which I
still take the liberty of doubting, I must cross-question him
at once."
Crawshay assumed the air of a pained invalid whose wishes have been
thwarted.
"You must really oblige me by doing nothing of the sort," he begged.
"I am sure that my way is best. Besides, you make me feel like an
eavesdropper--a common informer, and that sort of thing, you know."
"I am afraid that I cannot allow any question of sentiment to stand
between me and the discipline of my ship," was the somewhat
uncompromising reply.
Crawshay sighed, and with languid fingers unbuttoned his overcoat and
coat. Then, from some mysterious place in the neighbourhood of his
breast pocket, he produced an envelope containing a single
half-sheet of paper.
"Read that, sir, if you please," he begged.
The captain accepted the envelope with some reluctance, straightened
out its contents, read the few words it contained several times, and
handed back the missive. He stood for a moment like a man in a dream.
Crawshay returned the envelope to his pocket and rose to his feet.
"Well, I'll be getting along," he observed. "We'll have another little
chat, Captain, later on. I must take my matutinal stroll, or I know
how I shall feel about luncheon time. Besides, there are some
exuberant persons on board who are expecting me to offer them
refreshment about one o'clock, out of my winnings, and, attached to
your wonderful country as I am, Captain, I must admit that cocktails
do not agree with me." "One has to get used to them," the captain
murmured absently.
"I am most unfortunate, too, in the size of my feet," Crawshay
continued dolefully, looking down at them. "If there is one thing I
thoroughly dislike, it is being on board ship without rubber
overshoes--a product of your country, Captain, which I must confess
that I appreciate more than your cocktails. Good morning, sir. I hope
I haven't kept you from your rounds. Dear me!" he added, in a tone of
vexation, as he passed through the door, "I believe that I have been
sitting in a draught all the time. I feel quite shivery."
He shambled down the deck. The purser lingered behind with an
enquiring expression in his eyes, but his chief did not take the hint.
"Dix," he said solemnly, as he put on his cap and started out on his
rounds, "I was right. This is going to be a very queer voyage indeed!"