Lord Loveland Discovers America Part 3

Thus the pink pearl money was apportioned, a little here and a little there, and made to go as far as possible.

Foxham stopped with his lordship till after the return to London, doing the final packing, and all his ordinary work as usual, without a greedy word as to arrears of wages. Perhaps this was due to an angelic disposition; or perhaps he guessed the motive of his master's errand, and was willing to speculate on the result. But Loveland took the man's devotion for granted, without going too deeply into causes.

On getting back to his quarters near Wellington Barracks, Val was somewhat surprised to receive a visit from Harborough, who had never come to call on him before.

"So you've got your leave, I hear, and are sailing for my blessed country in a few days," Jim remarked.

Loveland replied that this was the case, and happened to think of thanking Jim for his letters of introduction.

Harborough answered casually that that was all right; and went on to say that he had read in a paper, or heard from a man, that Loveland had taken his pa.s.sage on the _Baltic_.

"Yes," said Val. "I wanted to go over on a good ship."

"Well, the _Baltic's_ a ripping one--couldn't be a better," Jim admitted. "But I should have thought you'd have the curiosity to try the newest thing."

"The _Mauretania_?" said Loveland. "Don't suppose I could have got a pa.s.sage on her for the next three or four trips across."

"Perhaps _you_ couldn't," said Jim. "But I can get you one."

"Why, she sails tomorrow, doesn't she?" asked Val.

"Yes," said Jim, "but you can go on her if you like, with a good cabin too, all to yourself."

"My pa.s.sage is paid for on the _Baltic_, and my name's on her pa.s.senger list," said Loveland.

"Well, it's too late to have your name printed on the _Mauretania's_ pa.s.senger list, or perhaps to get back your money for the _Baltic_,"

said Jim, "but that needn't stand in your way. You won't have to pay for your cabin on the _Mauretania_. It's going begging. A friend of mine who can't sail has given his ticket to me, to do with as I like; but as he's a man whose movements make things in Wall Street jump up and down like a see-saw, he doesn't want it known that he's got to stay behind because he's seedy. That's all. If you want to go in his place, go, and say nothing till you get on the other side. By that time he'll be on his way, on a following ship. At least, that's what he hopes."

"Do you mean, that if I want to cross in the _Mauretania_, I must pa.s.s under your friend's name?" asked Loveland, beginning to look haughty; for though he was tempted by the offer, he did not think that another man's name was worthy of his wearing even for five days. He would as willingly have appeared in Bond Street in a second-hand, ready-made coat.

"Oh no, nothing of the sort," answered Jim Harborough, smiling his pleasant smile. "What I meant was, don't go advertising the fact that you've got Henry VanderPot's cabin because he's not well enough to sail.

All you'll have to do is to swagger about as if you'd meant to be a pa.s.senger on the _Mauretania_ from the beginning of things."

Loveland was prepared to do any amount of swaggering, though he did not say so to Jim, or indeed acknowledge it to himself. He replied that, if this were the only condition, he would accept the ticket, and instruct Foxham (as he would not have time himself) to try and sell the pa.s.sage which he had paid for on the _Baltic_.

"Fox'll have several days to do it in, and I'll tell him if he brings it off, there's ten per cent for himself," said Val. "Meanwhile I'll be enjoying myself on the _Mauretania_."

"Meanwhile you'll be enjoying yourself on the _Mauretania_," echoed Jim.

"I suppose there are sure to be a lot of millionaires on board?"

suggested Val.

"Sure to be, even at this time of year."

"With pretty daughters?" Loveland's tone and air in making this addition were so conceited that Jim would have wanted to kick him if he had not looked so ridiculously like Jim's own adored and beautiful Betty.

Besides, the scar showed white on the brown. This had been a brave boy.

Jim was inclined to believe that he was worth reforming.

"With pretty daughters," Harborough repeated, his tone quiet though his eyes showed a danger signal. "However, be prudent. Don't make up your mind too soon. The best fish aren't always caught in the deep sea. One waits to have a look round the markets."

Loveland grinned. "Thank you for the tip. I won't forget."

"Not likely that you'll hold yourself too cheap, eh?" Jim could not resist that one dig, in spite of the scar, and Betty's laugh in the blue eyes between their black fringes.

But Val did not see the joke, as he a.s.suredly would if it had been aimed at anybody else. Jim having married into the family, ought to uphold the family pride, and Loveland doubted not that he did.

"Rather not," he returned patronizingly. "You needn't be afraid, my dear chap. Very kind of you to think of me for this cabin. And though it's a bit short notice, that can't be helped. Foxham will get me off somehow."

"You'll hardly have time to let people know your change of plan," said Jim. "But of course if you don't mind a little expense you can Marconi to Lady Loveland from the ship."

"Of course," a.s.sented Lady Loveland's son, who would not have thought of the attention had it not been suggested to him. "But it will hardly be necessary."

"Perhaps not," said Jim.

CHAPTER FOUR

Lord Loveland Makes a Start

Loveland's only experience of sea life, except for a little yachting, had been in going out to, and returning from, South Africa; but he had learned to take care of himself on shipboard, and though his name was not on the pa.s.senger list of the _Mauretania_, his deck chair was soon placed by an attentive steward in a sheltered corner nearly amidship.

This advantage was secured by a tempting tip, a tip out of all proportion to the giver's resources: but then, there were many people on the _Mauretania_ who came on board more like clients returning to a hotel where they had been known by the management for years, than pa.s.sengers travelling on a new ship; and Loveland did not intend to be defeated in an unequal compet.i.tion. He wanted the best of everything on this trip, and felt that money would be well spent in obtaining it. He always did feel this when he had any money--or credit--to spend.

Possibly he might have economized coin by parading his t.i.tle, but though spoiled and conceited he was also a gentleman, and while he might trade upon his position for the matrimonial market, would not flaunt it gratuitously. He considered he would be giving value for value: taking a girl's dollars and making her a Marchioness: but he thought too much of himself to "put on side."

When the deck-steward politely asked if he wished to use a visiting card as a chair-marker, Val told him to write the name of Loveland on a slip of paper or a luggage label; anything would do. So the steward did as he was bidden, ignorant that he served a "lord."

Loveland did not feel that he needed cheap advertis.e.m.e.nt. It would soon leak out that he was a personage, and, sure enough, it did. When he had discreetly explained to the purser his possession of Mr. VanderPot's cabin, the news of the change went round from steward to steward, and was promptly "spotted" as a t.i.t-bit by the greatest gossip on the ship, who happened to inhabit the stateroom opposite.

Major Cadwallader Hunter (a retired major, of course; he would not have had time to develop his qualities while on the active list) was told that he had Loveland for a neighbour, and looked at the cabin door with kindling interest. Being himself, he had studied the pa.s.senger list, as a collector of antiques is wont to study the announcements of sales. He could have rattled off by heart all the names worth rattling, and he was certain that Lord Loveland's had not been among them.

Major Cadwallader Hunter was an American of a type laughed at by the best of his own countrymen. He knew his Burke and Debrett better than many an Englishman even of that middle cla.s.s which can afford to be ignorant of no detail concerning the aristocracy. He was aware that there existed a Marquis of Loveland who was young and unmarried; he knew all about his family connections, and he wondered how such an important gentleman had strayed on board the _Mauretania_ unheralded. "I suppose this fellow must be _the_ Loveland, of course," he said to himself.

"But why not be published frankly on the pa.s.senger list? Can there be a secret?"

At this moment Loveland walked out from his stateroom, having come below for pipe and tobacco-pouch. He caught Major Cadwallader Hunter staring at his door, and gave him a brief yet supercilious glance. To some men it would have seemed an offensive glance, but Major Cadwallader Hunter was not to be easily offended by a man he wished to know. He disappeared into his own cabin, by way of proving that he was a neighbour, not a Paul Pry; but a few minutes later he was on deck, ambling amiably from one group of acquaintances to another, and dexterously avoiding detrimentals.

Cadwallader Hunter aspired to be a leader of society. He was one of those strange beings--heraldic, rampant, disregardant--who are born sn.o.bs, in spite of good birth and good breeding. Therefore he was not a genuine article (since no sn.o.b can be genuine) but had moulded himself into a thing of airs and affectations. Nevertheless he managed to impress most second-rate people, and some who were first-rate. Those who did not live in New York believed him to be of consequence in that city, and the Paris _Herald_ always reported his comings and goings. He was a thin, well-groomed man, of middle age, with a heart-hiding smile, a high nose and a high voice; gold-rimmed eyegla.s.ses giving glitter to pale, cold eyes; a waxed moustache; a carefully cultivated "English accent,"

and a marvellous fund of scandalous anecdotes concerning everyone about whom it was worth while to be scandalous. He had at least a bowing acquaintance with all the richest Americans on board, and he mixed with his greetings here and there a careless "Do you know we have Lord Loveland on the ship--the Marquis of Loveland? Such a good-looking young man. One of the oldest and most distinguished peerages in England; family of soldiers since the dark ages, though the less said about some of them since the days of the Georges the better. This boy not so bad as some of the old boys before him. Not to be despised by _debutantes_, eh?

Do I know him?----"

(As a matter of fact, Cadwallader Hunter could count his acquaintances in the British peerage on the fingers of one hand, and have a thumb to spare; for it is the genuine, unaffected, typical Americans, or else the heavily gilded and diamond-incrusted ones whom English people like to know. But this question was bound to come. He had led up to it, and was prepared.)

"Do I know him? Why, in a way we're connections by marriage. You must remember pretty Lady Betty Bulkeley who took us all by storm a year or two ago--sister of the Duke of Stanforth? Jimmy Harborough, whom she married, is I believe a forty-second cousin of mine: and Lady Betty and Lord Loveland are related. So you see----"

And for fear that they should see--something that he did not wish them to see--he pottered away to "get at" Loveland before anyone could possibly have the chance to find out that they two were strangers.