"It must be the sun," said I. "We'd better get him home."
We clambered down to where Rymer lay. He was in a piteous state, "I'm beat," said he. "My approach was all wrong. Rushing at her like that! She got the wrong impression."
"You come home," said I.
We rowed home in silence. When we landed, he looked back at the island. "If she'd given me just a chance!" said he. "Just a chance to explain!"
"You go up to your room," said I, "and lie down."
"That's what I mean to do," said he. "That's all I'm fit for."
He stayed in his room all that day, and all the next, and the day after. On the third day I was out for a while. When I came back I asked Doyle if all was well.
"Devil a bit of it," said Doyle, "for he's keening like a woman over the dead."
I listened at the foot of the stabs. "That's all right," said I, coming back. "That's just his version of a song 'Night and day, you are the one.' There's a note of optimism at the end of it. I've an idea he's bucking up."
Sure enough, we soon heard his foot on the stabs. He was in the highest of spirits, a tremendous reaction. "Well, pal," he said, I'm afraid I've been a bit of a dead weight the last two or three days. She had me knocked right out, and that's the truth, brother. I didn't have an idea left in me. Mr. Doyle, I want you to hunt me up some canes or osiers or something, and I want your man Danny to help me build a little contraption I got in mind."
I gave Doyle the wink to humour him, and he took the particulars of what was wanted.
"You see the idea?" said Rymer to me. "I make me these two sort of cages, like the bird traps we used to make in the Midwest when I was a boy. In the little one, I put some boiled com. That's for the doves. The big one's for her."
"What's the bait there?" said L
"She's a woman," said he. "Divine, if you like, but still a femme." With that he pulled out a leather case from his pocket and opened it to display a very handsome little wristwatch, set in diamonds. "Picked it up in Paris," said he modestly. "Thought of presenting it to a young lady in Cleveland. Thirty-six hips, though. And here we have thirty-four, twenty-five, thirty-five! So this goes for bait, you see. It'll fetch her. And when I see it picked up in the air, I pull the strings, and I have them goddam doves in one cage and her in the other. Then I can talk. Nothing immoral, mind you. I want to proposition that little lady to be Mrs. Thomas P. Rymer."
"But if you can't see her" said I.
"Wait," said he, "till I get the Max Factor Studios on her. A sort of simonizing job, only in technicolour, if you get me. It'll be," said he, bursting into song, "'Oh, say can you see, by the dawn's early light ' Nothing unpatriotic, mind you, only it's kind of appropriate." Still singing, he went out to the wood-shed, where I heard hammering going on for the rest of the day.
Next morning, as I was shaving, I happened to glance out of the window, and there I saw the boat pulling out, with Danny at the oars, Rymer in the bow, and two vast and crazy contraptions swaying on the stern. I called out; Rymer waved his hand, and they went on toward the island.
That evening, as I approached the hotel, I saw the boat pulled up on the beach, and hurried in to find Rymer. He was sitting in the bar, with a big whiskey in front of him, looking very grim. "What happened?" said I.
"Don't ask me what happened," said he curtly. Then, relenting, "I'll tell you," said he. "I'm afraid that little lady's out to make a monkey of me, and I don't like it."
"What did she do?" I asked.
"I had Danny land me on that island," said he, "and pull out and wait off shore so as not to crowd her. I fixed up my cages and my baits, and I got behind a rock, and I waited awhile. Then I saw those birds coming along, swooping and diving at top speed I reckon it was a marvellous number and the old hen in the middle fluttering her damnedest to keep up with them. When they saw the traps, they slowed up. I could tell she was interested."
"Go on," said I.
"Well," said he, "they visited the small trap first, and the top left-hand dove flew down and picked up bits of the corn and fed all the others."
"I'll be damned!" said I.
"Then," said he, "they moved over to where the big cage was, and the dexter dove flew in and picked up the wristwatch in its beak, and she did a sort of humoresque dance with it, and threw it over the cliff into the sea in front of my eyes. What do you think of that?"
"That's pretty tough," I said.
It's downright inconsiderate!" said he, banging on the table. "And if that dame thinks she's going to get away with it with Thomas P. Rymer, well Landlord, I want another highball."
"Why don't you just give her the air?" said I.
"I'd have given her the world," said he. "And I would yet. But she's gotta see reason. I'll make her listen to me somehow. Let me get her within reach of my arms, that's all! Landlord, I'll have a bottle of this hooch up in my room, I reckon. I gotta do a bit of thinking. Good night, pal. I'm no company. She's roused up the old cave man in me, that's how it is. I'm not claiming to be any sort of sheik, but this little Irish wonder lady's gotta learn she can't make a monkey of a straightforward American business man. Good night!"
Most of the night I heard him tramping up and down his room. It was pretty late when I got to sleep, and when I did I slept heavily and woke late. I went downstairs and looked about for my friend "Where's Mr. Rymer?" said I to Doyle.
"God alone knows," said he. "Were you not hearing the great cry he gave in the grey of the dawn?"
"What?" said I.
"I woke up," said Doyle, "and heard him muttering. Suddenly he lets a yell out of him: 'Marriage licence! That'll get her!' And then he went silent entirely, and I dropped off to sleep again. And when I came down this morning, he was missing. And his car was missing. There was a note on the bar here: 'Back in a few days.'"
"He's gone to Galway," said I, "to get his confounded licence."
"Like enough," said Doyle. "It's a great affliction, to be sure."
Sure enough, after a few days I was wakened in the early morning by the sound of a car driving up. I looked out in the half-light and recognized the impressive lines of Rymer's huge American roadster. At breakfast time I hurried downstairs, eager to have a word with him.
I met Doyle in the passage. "So Mr. Rymer's come back?" I said.
"He's come," said Doyle. "And he's gone."
"Gone? Where?"
"It must be to the island," said Doyle. "He must have drove up in the night and took the boat out right away. I've sent Danny for the loan of Murphy's boat from the fishing lodge. I told him to row straight out to the island, to see what's happened to the poor unfortunate gentleman."
There were no field glasses in the place. We waited impatiently till Danny came in sight, rowing the borrowed boat and towing the other. We saw that Danny was alone.
"Did you not find him?" shouted Doyle.
"Never the hide nor hair of him," said Danny, making fast the painter. "Sure it was one of the Good People he was after, right enough. The poor man has vanished entirely."
"Could he have fallen over a cliff?" said I.
"I see'd the pigeons," said Danny, shaking his head. "Four of 'em I saw, sitting each alone in a bush, just round the place we first saw them, and the creatures were mourning."
"And the fifth?" said I.
"The misfortunate bird was lying on the grass in the middle," said Danny, "with its neck wrung."
THE RIGHT SIDE
A young man, who was looking extremely pale, walked to the middle of Westminster Bridge and clambered onto the parapet. A swarthy gentleman, some years his senior, in evening dress, with dark red carnation, Inverness cape, monocle, and short imperial, appeared as if from nowhere, and had him by the ankle.