It was not until dinner that evening that I had the opportunity of meeting Dr. Custrin. The Naomi was steaming along amid the gorgeous pageantry of sunset and the warm glow of the dying day was warring with the soft lights of the electric candles on the dinner-table when I came in to the saloon. Garth introduced me to the doctor. He was a sleek1, smooth young man with hair like black satin and a beautifully trained small black moustache. His hands and feet were small and well-made and there would have been a touch of effeminacy about him but for his otherwise manly2 bearing, his bold black eyes and pleasant voice. A certain narrowness of the eyes and a curl of the nostrils3 told me, who have an eye for such things, that, probably, as his name indicated, he was of Jewish extraction. In conversation I elicited4 that he had been born in Mauritius, educated at Cape5 Town, and had taken his degree at King's College Hospital in London. Garth's New York office it appeared, had picked him up at Colon6 where he was studying Colonel Goethals' wonderful arrangements for the extermination7 of yellow fever and malaria8.
Lawless and Mackay, the chief engineer, a sententious Scot, who opened his mouth only to utter a platitude9 or to put food or drink into it, dined with us. Garth made me sit next to Marjorie who looked ravishing in a white lace evening frock.
"Put the two war veterans together!" the baronet commanded. "My little girl here," he explained to me, "drove a car at the front. She has the Military Medal."
"Daddy!" expostulated Marjorie and a warm flush coloured her cheeks.
"I would never have given my consent," Garth added, "but she just didn't ask me for it!"
"My dear old thing," said the girl. "You make me look ridiculous by bragging10 about my silly little trips around the bases when I'm sure Dr. Custrin or Major Okewood saw a hundred times more of the war than I ever did!"
"I never got out of the base at the Cape," said the doctor. "The East African campaign kept us too busy for anybody to be spared."
"And I," was my retort, "never went back to France after the Somme!"
"Were you wounded?" asked Garth.
"Badly?" questioned Marjorie in reply to my nod.
"Nothing to write home about," I answered. "When I came out of hospital I went into the Intelligence."
"How fearfully thrilling!" exclaimed the girl. "Wasn't it frightfully exciting?"
"It wasn't the front," I replied.
After dinner on the deck under a vast span of velvet11 sky spangled with stars I found myself alone with Marjorie Garth. A broad band of yellow light shone out from the smoke-room where the others sat and talked over their coffee. Above us on the bridge the form of the man at the wheel bulked black.
We strolled up and down in silence. For myself I was quite overcome by the majesty12 of the tropical night at sea.
"The Intelligence," asked Marjorie suddenly, "that's the Secret Service, isn't it?"
"Yes," I agreed.
"You were very modest about it at dinner," she remarked.
"I only stated the plain truth," I returned. "In the fighting troops, remember, every fifth man became a casualty and three months was the average run of the platoon officer!"
"Yet," commented the girl, "you seem like a man who has been in tight places. I shouldn't say to look at you that you've had a placid14 or easy existence. Like mine, for instance. Sometimes I think it's only men of action like you who know how to grapple with life. Can you imagine me in an emergency for instance?"
"Yes," I said. "I believe I can. You've got a brave eye, Miss Garth. I think one can judge people's temperaments15, as one judges horses, by the eye."
She shook her head and laughed.
"What does this sort of life teach anybody? This beautiful ship, these well-trained sailors, the splendid service that Daddy's money can buy? My dear man, it's no good flattering me about my brave eye. Money makes a solid barrier between my life and any really thrilling crisis! I shall be kept in cotton-wool till the end of the chapter."
"What a strange person you are!" I exclaimed. "Girls of your age with your position and your.... your.... attractions don't find time for philosophising as a rule. You ought to be enjoying your youth instead of meditating16 about life. I don't mean to be inquisitive17; but.... are you unhappy?"
We had halted near the rail. We were standing18 very close together and I felt the touch of her warm young body against my arm.
She turned and looked at me. Again I told myself that this girl was the most beautiful, the most unspoiled creature I had ever met.
"I've only once been thoroughly19 happy," she answered rather wistfully, "and that was when I was with the army in France. I loved the romance, the adventure of it all, the good comradeship not only between the women but also between the men and the women. Money wasn't everything then. I was an individual with my own personality, my own friends. But what am I now? The daughter of Garth, the millionaire. And they print my picture in the weekly papers because one day I shall have a great deal of money which Daddy has worked all his life to make. I've never had any brothers and sisters and my mother has been dead for years. I've had to live my whole life with money as my companion. And money's not a bit companionable!"
She smiled whimsically at me, then gazed down abstractedly at the phosphorescent water thumping21 against the side of the ship.
"This yacht!——" she went on. "I have everything a girl could possibly require here—everything except my freedom!"
"Good Lord!" I observed, "you'll have that too, when you marry! You've plenty of time for that!"
Marjorie Garth laughed.
"My dear man," she protested, "don't you know it's easier to marry off a girl with no money than one who will have as much as I shall? To Daddy every young man I meet is a fortune-hunter. If I run a boy home from the golf-club in my car I am cross-questioned regarding his 'intentions'; if a man takes me out dancing in the afternoon there's a scene. And Daddy's taste in men is vile22; I'm not alluding23 to you—I mean at home! But I've no use for the second generation of millionaires and I've told Daddy so. I'd rather marry a beggar than some of the rich men's sons he tries to throw in my way...."
Lucky beggar, I thought.
"I don't know why I've told you all this," the girl concluded. "You seem to draw me out. Or perhaps it's the night. Oh, look! Wish!"
A star fell gleaming across the sky.
"I have," I said; (it was one of those idle wishes which a poor man must not admit even to himself).
"Was it about your trip to Cock Island?"
"I'll lose my wish if I tell!" I replied. "As a matter of fact it was not!"
Suddenly she put a warm soft hand on mine. Her touch made my heart beat faster.
"Is it a Secret Service mission?" she asked.
Caution is second nature to a man who has served his apprenticeship24 in the silent corps25. In that balmy air, beneath a brilliant moon hanging like some great lamp in the sky, it was hard to refuse a woman's pleading, especially a girl like this, bending forward with sparkling eyes and parted lips so close to me that I could detect the fragrance26 of her hair. I put my other hand over hers as it rested on mine on the rail.
"You can trust me," she pleaded. "I am sure there is something mysterious about your trip to this tiny island. I know you are not going on Government survey" (this was the pretext27 which Garth had given out for my visit to Cock Island) "for the Navy always do that sort of work. Tell me your secret!"
I had to catch hold of myself; for she was almost irresistible28. I looked away from her, steeling myself to a refusal. What I might have done I cannot say for what man can account for actions performed under the magic of the tropical moon? But at that moment my nose detected the scent20 of a cigarette quite close.
I glanced quickly round. To all appearances we were alone. Behind us the white smoke stack of the Naomi reared itself into the night; on either hand the deck was quite deserted29; the only human being visible was the black form of the man at the wheel silhouetted31 against the faint glow of the binnacle light. But the acrid32 fragrance of Turkish tobacco stole up my nostrils and the possibility of a listener within earshot brought me swiftly back to earth.
"I'm afraid there's no mystery about my little jaunt," said I, turning to the girl, "you know all there is to know!"
I spoke33 as nonchalantly as possible. But I would not meet the reproachful gaze she turned upon me. Then she snatched her hand away.
"I'm afraid you must think me horribly inquisitive!" she observed coldly.
There was a footstep on the deck. Dr. Custrin stood behind us. Between his fingers a cigarette sent up a little spiral of blue smoke; across his arm he carried a shining silver wrap.
"Sir Alexander asked me to tell you to put this round your shoulders," he said to Marjorie and unfolded the silver scarf. "The wind is freshening."
The girl drew the wrap about her shoulders. The doctor looked at the two of us.
"What a wonderful night!" he remarked. "In these latitudes34 the moon seems to exercise a strange influence upon us. For example, your father has been telling me the whole story of his early life, Miss Garth, and I believe I have been unbosoming my aspirations35 and ambitions to him. But confidences under the moon one is apt to regret in the morning, eh, major?"
He spoke perfectly36 suavely37 and with no trace of impertinence in his manner. But there was a hint of double meaning in his words (which clearly indicated that he had overheard at any rate the end of our conversation) that jarred on me.
"You need have no fears about Major Okewood," replied Marjorie with just the faintest touch of scorn in her voice. "I am sure he is the pattern of discretion38. I think," she added, "I am feeling the tiniest bit chilly39. You promised to play for me, doctor. Won't you come into the saloon? There is a piano there!"
Her gaze travelled proudly past me as she turned to Custrin. She made it as clear as was compatible with the laws of hospitality that her invitation did not include me. It was her woman's way of getting her own back. I loved her for it; but I took a violent dislike to Custrin.
I mumbled40 some excuse about having to go to the chart-room and they left me. Presently from the saloon came the rhythmic41 strains of the Rosen-Kavalier, most sensual, most entrancing, of all Strauss's music, played with a master-hand. The Liebestod, Grieg, Massenet's Air des Larmes, Schumann—Custrin ran from one to the other while the Naomi stolidly42 thumped43 her way through the hissing44 sea. And always, curse his impudence45! the fellow played love-music....
One by one members of the crew drifted to the head of the companion-way until there was quite a company of them outlined against the yellow light that shone up from the cosy46 saloon. I remained leaning against the rail, my chin on my chest, my pipe in my mouth, and let my thoughts drift.... Adams coughing over his pannikin, John Bard47, his honest face troubled, looking round that house of death, the yellow-faced Vice-Consul pulling on his black cigar.
But always I found my mind harking back to that ungainly silhouette30 framed in the doorway48 of the hut and to the sinister49 echo of his footsteps in the yard as the stranger turned his back on the scene of slaughter50 which, I doubted not, had been of his contriving51. What had the Vice-Consul said? "His power is tremendous, his vengeance52 swift and terrible!" Who was this lame53 man whom nobody saw yet whom everybody feared? There was something of the insistence54 of a nightmare in the way in which the glimpse I had had of him hung in my thoughts, confounding itself with the ineffaceable image of that club-footed man whom I had seen fall lifeless—how many years ago it seemed now!—before my brother's smoking automatic. Well, whoever El Cojo was, Mexican or South American, I was out of his clutches now. The rail of the Naomi, quivering beneath my hand to the leap of the seas, gave me confidence. I knocked the ashes out of my pipe and went below.
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1
sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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3
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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elicited
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| 引出，探出( elicit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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colon
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| n.冒号，结肠，直肠 | |
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7
extermination
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| n.消灭，根绝 | |
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8
malaria
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| n.疟疾 | |
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9
platitude
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| n.老生常谈，陈词滥调 | |
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10
bragging
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| v.自夸，吹嘘( brag的现在分词 )；大话 | |
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11
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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12
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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13
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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14
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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temperaments
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| 性格( temperament的名词复数 )； （人或动物的）气质； 易冲动； （性情）暴躁 | |
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16
meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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17
inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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18
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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19
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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20
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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21
thumping
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| adj.重大的，巨大的；重击的；尺码大的；极好的adv.极端地；非常地v.重击(thump的现在分词)；狠打；怦怦地跳；全力支持 | |
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22
vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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23
alluding
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| 提及，暗指( allude的现在分词 ) | |
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24
apprenticeship
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| n.学徒身份；学徒期 | |
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corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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27
pretext
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| n.借口，托词 | |
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irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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30
silhouette
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| n.黑色半身侧面影，影子，轮廓；v.描绘成侧面影，照出影子来，仅仅显出轮廓 | |
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31
silhouetted
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| 显出轮廓的，显示影像的 | |
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32
acrid
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| adj.辛辣的，尖刻的，刻薄的 | |
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33
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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34
latitudes
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| 纬度 | |
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35
aspirations
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| 强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 )； 志向； 发送气音； 发 h 音 | |
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36
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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suavely
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discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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39
chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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40
mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41
rhythmic
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| adj.有节奏的，有韵律的 | |
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42
stolidly
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| adv.迟钝地，神经麻木地 | |
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43
thumped
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| v.重击， （指心脏）急速跳动( thump的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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44
hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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45
impudence
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| n.厚颜无耻；冒失；无礼 | |
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46
cosy
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| adj.温暖而舒适的，安逸的 | |
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47
bard
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| n.吟游诗人 | |
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48
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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49
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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50
slaughter
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| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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51
contriving
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| （不顾困难地）促成某事( contrive的现在分词 )； 巧妙地策划，精巧地制造（如机器）； 设法做到 | |
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52
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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53
lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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54
insistence
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| n.坚持；强调；坚决主张 | |
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