Roden's Corner Part 43

Hampered as they were by their heavy oil skins, their progress was slow, although the water barely reached their knees. The _Three Brothers_ was b.u.mping when they reached her and clambered on board over the bluff sides, sticky with salt water and tar.

"She'll be afloat in ten minutes," said a man in oil-skins, who helped them over the low bulwarks. He spoke good English, and seemed to have learned some of the taciturnity of the seafaring portion of that nation with their language; for he went aft to the tiller without more words and took his station there.

Roden seated himself on the rail and looked back towards Scheveningen.

Cornish stood beside him in silence. The spray broke over them continuously, and the boat rolled and b.u.mped in such a manner that it was impossible to stand or even sit without holding on to the clumsy rigging.

The lights of Scheveningen were stretched out in a line before them; the lighthouse winked a glaring eye that seemed to stare over their heads far out to sea. The summer lightning showed the sands to be bare and deserted. There were no unusual lights on the sea wall. The Kurhaus and the hotels were illuminated and gay. The sh.o.r.e took no heed of the sea tonight.

"We've succeeded," said Roden, curtly, and quite suddenly he rolled over in a faint at Cornish's feet.

The next morning, Dorothy received a letter at the Villa des Dunes, posted the evening before by Cornish at Scheveningen.

"We hope to get away tonight," he wrote, "in the 'pink,' the _Three Brothers_. Our intention is to knock about the North Sea until we find a suitable vessel--either a sailing ship trading between Norway and Spain on its way south, or a steamer going direct from Hamburg to South America. When I have seen your brother safely on board one of these vessels, I shall return in the _Three Brothers_ to Scheveningen. She is a small boat, and has a large white patch of new canvas at the top of her mainsail. So if you see her coming in, or waiting for the tide, you may conclude that your brother is in safety."

Later in the day, Mr. Wade called, having driven from The Hague very comfortably in an open carriage.

"The house," he said placidly, "is still watched, but I have no doubt that Tony has outwitted them all. Creil arrived last night, and seems a capable man. He tells me that half of the malgamiters are in jail at The Hague for intoxication and uproariousness last night. He is selecting those he wants, and the rest he will send to their homes. So we are balancing our affairs very comfortably; and if there is anything I can do for you, Miss Roden, I am at your command."

"Oh, Dorothy is all right," said Marguerite, rather hurriedly; and when her father took his leave, she slipped her hand within his solid arm, and walked with him across the sand towards the carriage. "Haven't you seen," she asked--"you old stupid!--that Dorothy is all right? Tony is in love with her."

"No," replied the banker, rather humbly--"no, my dear. I am afraid I had not noticed it."

Marguerite pressed his arm, not unkindly. "You can't help it," she explained. "You are only a man, you know."

The following days were quiet enough at the Villa des Dunes, and it is in quiet days that a friendship ripens best. The two girls left there scarcely expected to hear of Cornish's return for some days; but they fell into the habit of walking towards the sea whenever they went out-of-doors, and spent many afternoon hours on the dunes. During these hours Dorothy had many confidential and lively conversations with her new-found friend. Indeed, confidence and gaiety were so bewilderingly mingled that Dorothy did not always understand her companion.

One afternoon, three days after the departure of Percy Roden, when Von Holzen was buried, and the authorities had expressed themselves content with the verdict that he had come accidentally by his death, Marguerite took occasion to congratulate herself, and all concerned, in the fact that what she vaguely called "things" were beginning to straighten themselves out.

"We are round the corner," she said decisively. "And now papa and I shall go home again, and Miss Williams will come back. Miss Williams--oh, lord! She is one of those women who have a stick inside them instead of a heart. And papa will trot out his young men--likely young men from the city. Papa married the bank, you know. And he wants me to marry another bank and live gorgeously ever afterwards. Poor old dear!"

"I think he would rather you were happy than gorgeous," said Dorothy, with a laugh, who had seen some of the honest banker's perplexity with regard to this most delicate financial affair.

"Perhaps he would. At all events, he does his best--his very best. He has tried at least fifty of these gentle swains since I came back from Dresden--red hair and a temper, black hair and an excellent opinion of one's self, fair hair and stupidity. But they wouldn't do--they wouldn't do, Dorothy!"

Marguerite paused, and made a series of holes in the sand with her walking-stick.

"There was only one," she said quietly, at length. "I suppose there is always--only one--eh, Dorothy?"

"I suppose so," answered Dorothy, looking straight in front of her.

Marguerite was silent for a while, looking out to sea with a queer little twist of the lips that made her look older--almost a woman. One could imagine what she would be like when she was middle-aged, or quite old, perhaps.

"He would have done," she said. "Quite easily. He was a million times cleverer than the rest--a million times--well, he was quite different, I don't know how. But he was paternal. He thought he was much too old, so he didn't try----"

She broke off with a light laugh, and her confidential manner was gone in a flash. She stuck her stick firmly into the ground, and threw herself back on the soft sand.

"So," she cried gaily. _"Vogue la galere_. It's all for the best. That is the right thing to say when it cannot be helped, and it obviously isn't for the best. But everybody says it, and it is always wise to pa.s.s in with the crowd, and be conventional--if you swing for it."

She broke off suddenly, looking at her companion's face. A few boats had been leisurely making for the sh.o.r.e all the afternoon before a light wind, and Dorothy had been watching them. They were coming closer now.

"Dorothy, do you see the _Three Brothers_?"

"That is the _Three Brothers_," answered Dorothy, pointing with her walking-stick.

For a time they were silent, until, indeed, the boat with the patched sail had taken the ground gently, a few yards from the sh.o.r.e. A number of men landed from her, some of them carrying baskets of fish. One, walking apart, made for the dunes, in the direction of the New Scheveningen Road.

"And that is Tony," said Marguerite. "I should know his walk--if I saw him coming out of the Ark, which, by the way, must have been rather like the _Three Brothers_ to look at. He has taken your brother safely away, and now he is coming--to take you."

"He may remember that I am Percy's sister," suggested Dorothy.

"It doesn't matter whose sister you are," was the decisive reply.

"Nothing matters"--Marguerite rose slowly, and shook the sand from her dress--"nothing matters, except one thing, and that appears to be a matter of absolute chance."

She climbed slowly to the summit of the dune under which they had been sitting, and there, pausing, she looked back. She nodded gaily down at Dorothy. Then suddenly, she held out her hands before her, and Cornish, looking up, saw her slim young form poised against the sky in a mock att.i.tude of benediction.

"Bless you, my dears," she cried, and with a short laugh turned and walked towards the Villa des Dunes.

THE END