Prince Charlie Part 32

"You speak in the past tense. Seems to me the foolishness is only just coming to a head!"

"Stop your chaff, there's a good fellow. You can use that later on. Just now it's almost life and death with me. What's your sister's full name, d.i.c.k?"

"Full name? Mabel Seton-Carr, of course!"

"Of course! Of course! Of course! Didn't Gracie write it in full in my book?"

"I'll be hanged if I know! I shouldn't think it would add to the book's sale if she did--with my remembrance of her pothooks and hangers. You don't live at Wivernsea, do you? I never heard that there was a lunatic asylum there!"

"Lived there for years!"

"Oh! Then perhaps you knew Mabel's husband, Seton-Carr, when he was alive?"

"When--he--was--alive?"

"Yes. Of course! You blithering old idiot, you; what are you looking at me like that for? You don't think that I am such an utter egregious a.s.s as to suggest that you have known him since his death, do you?"

"How long, d.i.c.k--how long--how long has he been dead?"

"Nine--ten months now. Between ourselves, there was not much to regret when he added his signature to the big death-roll. Though it's not customary to speak truth of a man who can't speak for himself, is it?"

"Blind! Blind! Blind! She's a widow! Of course! What a fool--what a fool I have been!"

"Hear, hear--large-sized kind!"

CHAPTER XXV

EJECTED FROM THE CABIN

Masters remained buried in thought for a few moments. The sudden opening of his eyes and the refreshing news were almost overpowering him.

Presently he looked up at his companion, who was watching him closely; said:

"You can't think, d.i.c.k, my dear boy, what a big fool I have been making of myself."

"No--I can't. If it was any foolishness bigger than your present size, it must have been simply colossal!"

"You told your sister of me in your letter. Did you mention me as Prince Charlie?"

"Of course!"

"She'll know! She'll guess! I am glad. Thanks! Thanks! Thanks!"

He seized and wrung the hand of the amazed d.i.c.k, utterly ignoring his feelings. Only felt that he must do something to relieve his own. He retained just sufficient self-control to keep himself from indulging in a wild dance of jubilation.

d.i.c.k, affecting to nurse crushed fingers, made an effort to get to the bottom of things. Usually he accepted circ.u.mstances without inquiry as to their source; but suspicion was roused in him now. It was suspicion of a kind that he wanted to make into certainty; he said:

"A few minutes ago you expressed regret that I had mentioned you at all in the letter."

"I know! But a few minutes ago things were all gloomy and black and ugly! Now they are all bright, rose-coloured and lovely. The sun has risen! The pulse of day is beginning to beat!"

"I say, old chap--how much a thousand words do you get for that kind of thing? You roll it off as naturally as water rolls off a duck's back."

"When do we reach London, d.i.c.k?"

"Reach London? Are you mad? Why, we haven't turned round on our homeward journey yet!"

"There's some sort of overland route, isn't there? We can get back quicker?"

"Quicker? You are mad! It was only this very morning that you were expressing regret that the time of the trip wasn't going to be double the length!"

"This morning was then! Now is now! Oh, d.i.c.k, you stony-hearted, wicked villain you!" He sprang laughingly over to the boy as he spoke. "Why didn't you say before----"

"Keep off!"

d.i.c.k, dodging, picked up the first thing his hands rested on and a.s.sumed a burlesque att.i.tude of threat as he continued:

"a.s.sault me again with one of your hundred-ton affectionate squeezes, and I'll blow your brains out with this telescope. Throw up your hands!"

"I surrender!"

Masters laughingly fell in with the other's burlesque melodramatic humour; continued:

"I am a bear, but a tamed one. I haven't a squeeze left in me!"

"Perhaps your Royal Highness is saving them up," suggested d.i.c.k, his eyes twinkling as he spoke. "I begin to have a grave suspicion--garnered from some of your rambling ravings--that you have designs on my sister!"

"I have, d.i.c.k, I have!"

"Open confession is good for the soul! But you don't fool me. I should be false to every sense of brotherly duty if I failed to warn her against your embraces. I shall bear the marks of one of them--on my shoulder--to the grave."

"Dear old d.i.c.k!" Masters started forward impulsively: "I am ever so sorry that----"

"Keep off! Keep off! If you don't I'll scream for help!"

Masters' thoughts went off at a tangent. Love is a leveller. Even authors, under the influence of that other circ.u.mstance to which all flesh is heir, are not superior to a pa.s.sion for the conjunction of octavo sheets and pens. It found expression in Masters' exclamation:

"The letters!"

d.i.c.k, inexperienced in such matters, failed to understand. His denseness was irritating. He was aware of that, but only with intent to provoke, e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed:

"Eh?"

"The letters! Don't you understand? We haven't touched port yet--not near it."