“I am.”
“And these things,” he went on, “make it difficult for you to believe that there is any great tie between us two. Yet it is the exception which proves the rule, you know. I will not say that your patient has ever saved my life or performed any immortal action, yet believe me he has courage and a grit you would scarcely believe in, and I am speaking seriously when I tell you that not only I but others are under deep obligations to him.”
He rose to his feet with the air of one who has closed the subject. Katharine also threw off her rugs.
“You are going to walk?” she asked. “Please take me with you. I don’t know why, but I feel restless this evening.”
They paced side by side up and down the deck, pausing now and then to watch the destroyers and indulging in a very spasmodic conversation. At their fourth promenade, as they reached the stern extremity of their deck, the woman paused, and, holding to the railing with one hand, looked steadily back towards New York. The colour was fading slowly from the sky now, but it was still marvellously clear.
“Are you homesick for what lies beneath those clouds?” he enquired lightly.
She took no immediate account of his words. Her eyes were fixed upon one spot in that distant curtain of sky. Suddenly she pointed with her finger.
“What’s that?” she asked. “No, the mast’s dipping now — you can’t see. There — the other side.”
He followed her outstretched finger, and slowly his fine black eyebrows grew closer and closer together. Far away, at a certain spot in the clear evening sky, was a little speck of black, hidden every now and then by the mast of the ship as she rolled, but distinctly there all the time, a little smudge in an amber setting, too small for a cloud, yet a visible and tangible object. Katharine felt her companion’s arm tighten upon hers, and she saw his face grow like a piece of marble.
“It’s a seaplane,” he muttered, “coming from the New Jersey coast.”
Through that mysterious agency by means of which news travels on board ship as though supernaturally conveyed, the deck was crowded in a very few moments by practically every passenger and most of the officers. Every form of telescope and field-glass was directed towards the now clearly visible seaplane. Speculations were everywhere to be heard.
“Come to warn us of a submarine,” was the first suggestion.
“They’d use the wireless,” was the prompt reminder.
“But seaplanes can spot the submarines under the sea,” one of the journalists reminded the bystanders. “They’re a better escort than any destroyer.”
“She can’t come all the way across the Atlantic, though,” Brand observed.
“It’s some new device of Uncle Sam’s they are testing, perhaps,” his friend suggested. “Gee! You can hear her now quite plainly. There are two of them in the car — a pilot and an observer. Wonder what the captain thinks about it.”
The captain on the bridge was talking to his chief officer. Fragments of their conversation were apparently overheard, for it was soon rumoured around that the captain had expressed his opinion that this was simply part of some maneuvres they were carrying out from the New Jersey Aviation Station. Jocelyn Thew watched the blue fire about the mast.
“I wonder whether that’s she talking to us,” he observed. “One would have to be pretty nippy with one’s fingers to work aboard on one of those small things.”
“Do you suppose she is bringing us a message?” Katharine asked.
He shook his head.
“They could do that by wireless from the shore,” he replied. “Hullo, we’re slowing down!”
The little crowd was now bubbling over with excitement. The speed of the steamer had, without a doubt, been slackened, and a boat was being lowered. Brand and his companion, immensely happy, were already dotting down their notes for the wireless. The seaplane was gently skimming the water almost alongside, and barely fifty yards away. The pilot and his companion were clearly visible. The passengers lined the whole length of the steamer, leaning over to watch the dénouement of this strange scene.
“It’s a newspaper scoop,” one man suggested.
The idea was not favourably entertained.
“No newspaper would be allowed to make use of a Government seaplane,” Brand pointed out. “Apart from that, they wouldn’t dare to stop a steamer out here.”
“There’s the boat!” some one else exclaimed, pointing to one of the ship’s lifeboats which had shot out towards the plane. “She must be going to pick one of the men up!”
The steamer was merely drifting now, and its strange visitor had alighted upon the water, rushing along a little way in front and leaving two long, milky paths of white foam behind. Both the pilot and the passenger were drenched by every wave. They watched the latter as he was taken off, and their eyes followed the return of the lifeboat. Almost immediately afterwards the plane, increasing its speed, rushed across the surface of the water and rose again.
“Prettiest sight I ever saw in my life,” Brand declared enthusiastically.
“We live in wonderful times,” his friend agreed, looking longingly at the wireless office. “I guess we must get a look at this chap, anyway,” he added. “He’s the first man who has overtaken an American liner so far from land like this before.”
The man who clambered a few minutes later up the ladder of the steamer had not the appearance of one who has performed a heroic action. His clothes had shrunk upon his body, and the sea water was oozing from him in all directions. His face was blue with cold and almost unrecognisable. Nevertheless, Jocelyn Thew, who was one of the most eager of the sightseers, attained a certain measure of conviction as he shut up his glasses with a snap and turned to his companion.
“An Englishman,” he observed.
“Do you know him?” she asked curiously.
“I can’t go so far as that,” he admitted, “but—”
“But he was the man for whom you were looking before the steamer started,” she declared confidently.
“Seems a little rough luck to be caught up like this out in the ocean,” he grumbled. “I don’t know that the man’s likely to do me any particular harm,” he added, “but I’d just as soon he wasn’t on board.”
Meanwhile, the captain had hurried his belated passenger into his room, and the ship saw no more of him that night. By degrees the excitement simmered down. Jocelyn escorted his companion to the gangway and bade her good night.
“I am not at all sure,” she protested, “that I am ready to go down yet.”
“You must show a little interest in your patient,” he insisted.
“But the doctor has already as good as told me to keep away.”
“Gant is a peculiar fellow,” he told her. “By this time he has probably changed his mind and needs your help. Besides, I am anxious to hear what they say in the smoking room concerning this extraordinary visitor.”
She looked around. They were absolutely alone.
“Who is he,” she asked, “and what does his coming mean to you?”
“His name is Crawshay,” Jocelyn replied. “He is an ex-Scotland Yard man who came over here to work for the English Secret Service.”
“What does he want here?” she whispered, a little hoarsely.
Jocelyn raised his cap as he turned away.
“Me,” he answered. “He’ll probably be disappointed, though.”
.
CHAPTER V
Crawshay found himself a popular hero when at a few minutes before eleven o’clock the next morning he made his appearance on deck. With little regard to the weather, which was fine and warm, he was clad in a thick grey suit and a voluminous overcoat. The fact that his borrowed hat was several sizes too large for him detracted a little from the dignity of his appearance, a misfortune for which he endeavoured to atone by a distinct aloofness of manner. The newspaper men, however, were not to be denied.