The Grey Lady Part 8

There is a regular service of steamers to and from the Island of Majorca to the mainland, and, in addition, steamers make voyages when pressure of traffic may demand. The Bellver was making one of these supplemental journeys, and her arrival was not looked for at Palma.

Eve and Fitz were having breakfast alone in the gloomy room overshadowed by the trailing wings of the Angel of Death, when the servant announced a gentleman to see the senorita. The senorita requested that the gentleman might approach, and presently there stood in the doorway the quaintest little figure imaginable.

Captain Bontnor, with a certain sense of the fitness of things, had put on his best clothes for this occasion, and it happened that the most superior garment in his wardrobe was a thick pilot-jacket, which stood out from his square person with solid angularity. He had brushed his hair very carefully, applying water to compa.s.s a smoothness which had been his life-long and hitherto unattained aim.

His shock hair--red turning to grey--stood up four inches from his honest, wrinkled face. It was unfortunate that his best garments should have been purchased for the amenities of a northern climate.

His trousers were as stiff as his jacket, and he wore a decorous black silk tie as large as a counterpane.

He stood quaintly bowing in the doorway, his bright blue eyes veiled with shyness and a pathetic dumb self-consciousness.

"Please come in," said Eve in Spanish, quite at a loss as to who this might be.

Then Fitz had an inspiration. Something of the sea seemed to be wafted from the older to the younger sailor.

"Are you Captain Bontnor?" he asked, rising from the table.

"Yes, sir, yes! That's my name!"

He stood nervously in the doorway, mistrusting the parquet-floor, mistrusting himself, mistrusting everything.

Fitz went towards him holding out his hand, which the captain took after a manfully repressed desire to wipe his own broad palm on the seam of his trousers.

"Then you are my uncle?" said Eve, coming forward.

"Yes, miss, I'm afraid--that is--yes, I'm your uncle. You see--I'm only a rough sort of fellow."

He came a little nearer and held his arms apart, looking down at his own person in humble deprecation.

Eve was holding out her hand. He took it with a vague, deep-rooted chivalry, and she, stooping, very deliberately kissed him.

This seemed rather to bewilder the captain, for he shook hands again with Fitz.

"I-- " he began, nodding into Fitz's face. "You are--eh? I didn't expect--to see--I didn't know--"

At that moment Eve saw. It came to her in a flash, as most things do come to women. She even had time to doubt the story about Luke.

"This," she said, with crimson cheeks, "is Mr. FitzHenry of the Kittiwake. He kindly came to us in our trouble. You will have to thank him afterwards--uncle."

"And in the meantime I expect you want breakfast?" put in Fitz, carefully avoiding Eve.

"Yes," added the girl, "of course. Sit down. No, here!"

"Thankye--thankye, miss--my dear, I mean. Oh, anything'll do for me. A bit of bread and a cup o' tea. I had a bit and a sup on board before she sheered alongside the quay."

He looked round rather helplessly, wondering where he should put his hat--a solid, flat-crowned British affair. Eve took it from him and laid it aside.

Captain Bontnor sat very stiffly down. His square form did not seem to lose any of its height by the change of position, and with a stiff back he looked admiringly round the room, waiting like a child at a school treat.

As the meal progressed he grew more at ease, telling them of the little difficulties of his journey, avoiding with a tact not always found inside a better coat all mention of the sad event which had caused him to take this long journey after his travelling days were done.

That which set him at ease more than all else was the fact, at length fully grasped, that Fitz was, like himself, a sailor. Here at least was a topic upon which he could converse with any man.

General subjects only were discussed, as if by tacit consent. No mention was made of the future until this was somewhat rudely brought before their notice by the announcement that a second visitor desired to see the senorita.

With a more a.s.sured manner than that of his predecessor, a small, dark man came into the room, throwing off his cloak and handing it to the servant. He bowed ceremoniously and with true Spanish grace to Eve, with less ceremony and more dignity to the two men.

"I beg that your excellency will accept the sympathy of my deepest heart," he said. "I regret to trouble you so soon after the great loss sustained by your excellency, indeed, by the whole island of Majorca. But it is a matter of business. Such things cannot be delayed. Have I your excellency's permission to proceed?"

"Certainly, senor."

The man's clean-shaven face was like a mask. The expressions seemed to come and go as if worked by machinery. Sympathy was turned off, and in its place Polite-Attention-to-Business appeared. From under his arm he drew a leather portfolio, which he placed upon the table.

"The affairs of the late Cavalier Challoner were perhaps known to your excellency?"

"No; I knew nothing of my father's affairs."

Sympathy seemed to be struggling behind "Polite-Attention-to- Business," while for a moment a real look of distress flitted over the parchment face. He paused for an instant, reflecting while he a.s.sorted his papers.

"I am," he said, "the lawyer of his excellency the Count de Lloseta."

Eve and Fitz exchanged a glance, and as silence was kept the lawyer went on.

"Three generations ago," he said, "a Count de Lloseta, the grandfather of this present excellency, made over on 'rotas' the estate and house known as the Val d'Erraha to the grandfather of the late Cavalier Challoner--a Captain Challoner, one of Admiral Byng's men."

Again he paused, arranging his papers.

"The Majorcan system 'rotas' is known to your excellency?"

"No, senor."

"On this system an estate is made over for one or two or three generations by the proprietor to the lessee who farms or sublets the land, and in lieu of rent hands over to the proprietor a certain proportion of the crops. Does your excellency follow me?"

Eve did not answer at once. Then the lawyer's meaning seemed to dawn upon her.

"Then," she said, "the Casa d'Erraha never belonged to my father?"

"Never"--with a grave bow.

"And I have nothing--nothing at all! I am penniless?"

The lawyer looked from her to Fitz, who was standing beside her listening to the conversation, but not offering to take part in it.

"Unless your excellency has private means--in England, perhaps."

"I do not know--I know nothing. And we must leave the Casa d'Erraha. When, senor? Tell me when."

The lawyer avoided her distressed eyes.

"Well," he said slowly, "the law is rather summary. I--your excellency understands I only do my duty. I am not the princ.i.p.al.

I have no authority whatever--except the law."