Robert Coverdale's Struggle Part 39

"Not if I am willing," responded Robert cheerfully. "So it is all settled."

"How kind you are!" murmured the invalid. "Though we have met so recently, I cannot help feeling toward you as if you were my younger brother."

Robert thanked him, but could hardly reciprocate the feeling. In truth, he had taken no fancy to the man whom he had accepted as roommate and was only influenced by compa.s.sion for his reported sickness.

They undressed and retired to their berths. As the stranger was about to step into his he said:

"It is only fair to tell you my name. I am called Mortimer Fairfax and I am a partner in a business firm in Baltimore. Are you in business?"

"Not exactly," answered Robert, "though I am traveling on business just now."

"I believe you didn't mention your name," said Fairfax.

"My name is Robert Coverdale."

"An excellent name. I know a family in Philadelphia by that name. Are you sleepy?"

"A little."

"Then suppose we go to sleep?"

"All right. Goodnight!"

Then there was silence in the stateroom.

It was not long before Robert's eyes closed. He had gone about considerable during the day and was naturally fatigued. Generally he had no difficulty in sleeping soundly, but to-night proved an exception. He tossed about in his narrow berth and he was troubled with disagreeable dreams. Sometimes it happens that such dreams visit us to warn us of impending danger.

Robert finally dreamed that a pickpocket had drawn his pocketbook from his pocket and was running away with it, and he awoke with a sudden start, his face bathed in perspiration.

It was midnight. The band had ceased playing for two hours and all who had staterooms had retired to them. Only here and there in the main saloon a pa.s.senger lay asleep in an armchair.

There was a scanty light, which entered the stateroom through a small window, and by this light Robert, half rising in bed, saw a sight that startled him.

Mr. Mortimer Fairfax, his roommate, was out of his berth. He had taken down Robert's trousers from the nail on which he had hung them and was in the act of pulling out his wallet, which he had imprudently left in it.

This sight fully aroused the lad, and he prepared for action.

Fairfax was half bent over, and Robert, who was deeply incensed, threw himself from the upper berth, landing on the back of his roommate, who was borne to the floor, releasing the garment with a startled cry.

"What did you do that for?" he asked nervously.

"What business had you with my pocketbook, you thief?" demanded Robert sternly.

Mortimer Fairfax, who had supposed Robert to be fast asleep, saw that he was in a sc.r.a.pe, but he was a man fertile in expedients, and he instantly decided upon his course.

"What do you mean?" he inquired in a tone of innocent bewilderment.

"What do I mean?" retorted our hero. "I want to know what business you had with my pocketbook in your hand?"

"You don't mean to say that I was meddling with your pocketbook?" said Fairfax with an air of surprise.

"That is exactly what I do say, Mr. Fairfax. If I hadn't waked up just as I did, you would have had all my money, and I should have been penniless. That is the sort of fever and ague that troubles you, I suppose."

"My young friend," said Fairfax, "I am shocked at what you tell me. I do not blame you for accusing me. If I were in your place and you in mine, I should no doubt act in the same way. Yet I am entirely innocent, I can a.s.sure you."

"It don't look much like it," Robert said, rather astonished at the man's effrontery. "When I find you examining my pockets and taking out my pocketbook, it looks very much as if you were trying to rob me."

"True, it does. I admit it all. But if you knew me, you would see how groundless, nay, how absurd such suspicions are. Why, I am a rich man. I am worth fifty thousand dollars."

"Then why did you try to rob me?"

"I did not. It was only in appearance. Did you ever hear of a somnambulist?"

"No."

"It is one who gets up in his sleep and is entirely unconscious of what he does. From early youth--from the days of my innocent boyhood--I have been a victim of this unfortunate malady."

"Do you often steal in your sleep?" inquired Robert sarcastically.

"Not often, but I have done it before. Once, when a boy, I got up and took a purse from the pocket of my uncle, who occupied the same room with me."

"What did your uncle say?" Robert asked with some curiosity.

"He was angry till my mother a.s.sured him that I was a somnambulist and not responsible for what I did at such a time. Then we had a good laugh, over it."

"Do you mean to say, Mr. Fairfax, that when you had your hand in my pocket just now you were asleep?"

"Sound asleep. I had no idea that I was out of my berth."

"You seemed to wake up pretty quick afterward!"

"To be sure I did! I rather think you would wake up, too, if I should jump upon your back from the top berth! But I forgive you--don't apologize, I beg. I should have been misled, as you were, if our situations had been changed."

Certainly Mr. Mortimer Fairfax was cool.

In his limited acquaintance with the world Robert had never dreamed of the existence of such a character, but he was gifted with shrewd common sense, and he did not for an instant believe the story which the other palmed off upon him.

"Mr. Fairfax," he said, "shall I tell you what I think of your story?"

"Yes, if you please."

"I don't believe it."

"What!" exclaimed Fairfax sadly. "Is it possible you believe that I would rob you, my kind benefactor?"

"I don't pretend to be your benefactor, but I haven't a doubt about it."

"My dear young friend," said Fairfax, putting his handkerchief to his eyes, "you grieve me deeply--indeed you do! I had thought you would understand me better. You do not consider that I am a rich man and can have no object in depriving you of your little store of money. Let us go to bed and forget this unpleasant little circ.u.mstance."