The Pagan Madonna Part 34

"And I am sorry that I answered you so sharply. But all this worry and fuss over me is getting on my nerves. You've written down Cunningham as a despicable rogue, when he is only an interesting one. If only you would give banter for banter, you might take some of the wind out of his sails.

But instead you go about as if the next hour was to be our last!"

"Who knows?"

"There you go! In a minute we'll be digging up the hatchet again."

But she softened the reproach by smiling. At this moment Cunningham came in briskly and cheerfully. He sat down, threw the napkin across his knees, and sent an ingratiating smile round the table.

"Cleigh"--he was always talking to Cleigh, and apparently not minding in the least that he was totally ignored--"Cleigh, they are doing a good job in the Santa Maria delle Grazie, so I am told. Milan, of course. They are restoring Da Vinci's Cenacolo. What called it to mind is the fact that this is also the last supper. To-morrow at this hour you will be in possession and I'll be off for my pearls."

The recipients of this remarkable news appeared petrified for a s.p.a.ce.

Cunningham enjoyed the astonishment.

"Sounds almost too good to be true, doesn't it? Still, it's a fact."

"That's tiptop news, Cunningham," said Dennison. "I hope when you go down the ladder you break your infernal neck. But the luck is on your side."

"Let us hope that it stays there," replied Cunningham, unruffled. He turned to Cleigh again: "I say, we've always been bewailing that job of Da Vinci's. But the old boy was a seer. He knew that some day there would be American millionaires and that I'd become a force in art. So he put his subject on a plaster wall so I couldn't lug it off. A canvas the same size, I don't say; but the side of a church!"

"A ship is going to pick you up to-morrow?" asked Jane.

"Yes. The crew of the _Wanderer_ goes to the _Haarlem_ and the _Haarlem_ crew transships to the _Wanderer_. You see, Cleigh, I'm one of those efficiency sharks. In this game I have left nothing to chance. Nothing except an act of G.o.d--as they say on the back of your steamer ticket--can derange my plans. Not the least bit of inconvenience to you beyond going out of your course for a few days. The new crew was signed on in Singapore--able seamen wanting to return to the States. Hired them in your name. Clever idea of me, eh?"

"Very," said Cleigh, speaking directly to Cunningham for the first time since the act of piracy.

"And this will give you enough coal to turn and make Manila, where you can rob the bunkers of one of your freighters. Now, then, early last winter in New York a company was formed, the most original company in all this rocky old world--the Great Adventure Company, of which I am president and general adviser. Pearls! Each member of the crew is a shareholder, undersigned at fifteen hundred shares, par value one dollar. These shares are redeemable October first in New York City if the company fails, or are convertible into pearls of equal value if we succeed. No widows and orphans need apply. Fair enough."

"Fair enough, indeed," admitted Cleigh.

Dennison stared at his father. He did not quite understand this willingness to hold converse with the rogue after all this rigorously maintained silence.

"Of course the Great Adventure Company had to be financed," went on Cunningham with a deprecating gesture.

"Naturally," a.s.sented Cleigh. "And that, I suppose, will be my job?"

"Indirectly. You see, Eisenfeldt told me he had a client ready to pay eighty thousand for the rug, and that put the whole idea into my noodle."

"Ah! Well, you will find the crates and frames and casings in the forward hold," said Cleigh in a tone which conveyed nothing of his thoughts. "It would be a pity to spoil the rug and the oils for the want of a little careful packing."

Cunningham rose and bowed.

"Cleigh, you are a thoroughbred!"

Cleigh shook his head.

"I'll have your hide, Cunningham, if it takes all I have and all I am!"

CHAPTER XIX

Cunningham sat down. "The spirit is willing, Cleigh, but the flesh is weak. You'll never get my hide. How will you go about it? Stop a moment and mull it over. How are you going to prove that I've borrowed the rug and the paintings? These are your choicest possessions. You have many at home worth more, but these things you love. Out of spite, will you inform the British, the French, the Italian governments that you had these objects and that I relieved you of them? In that event you'll have my hide, but you'll never set eyes upon the oils again except upon their lawful walls--the rug, never! On the other hand, there is every chance in the world of my returning them to you."

"Your word?" interrupted Jane, ironically.

So Cleigh was right? A quarter of a million in art treasures!

"My word! I never before realized," continued Cunningham, "what a fine thing it is to possess something to stand on firmly--a moral plank."

Dennison's laughter was sardonic.

"Moral plank is good," was his comment.

"Miss Norman," said Cunningham, maliciously, "I slept beside the captain this morning, and he snores outrageously." The rogue tilted his chin and the opal fire leaped into his eyes. "Do you want me to tell you all about the Great Adventure Company, or do you want me to shut up and merely proceed with the company's business without further ado? Why the devil should I care what you think of me? Still, I do care. I want you to get my point of view--a rollicking adventure, in which n.o.body loses anything and I have a great desire fulfilled. Hang it, it's a colossal joke, and in the end the laugh will be on n.o.body! Even Eisenfeldt will laugh," he added, enigmatically.

"Do you intend to take the oils and the rug and later return them?"

demanded Jane.

"Absolutely! That's the whole story. Only Cleigh here will not believe it until the rug and oils are dumped on the door-step of his New York home. I needed money. n.o.body would offer to finance a chart with a red cross on it. So I had to work it out in my own fashion. The moment Eisenfeldt sees these oils and the rug he becomes my financier, but he'll never put his claw on them except for one thing--that act of G.o.d they mention on the back of your ticket. Some raider may have poked into this lagoon of mine.

In that case Eisenfeldt wins."

Cleigh smiled.

"A pretty case, Cunningham, but it won't hold water. It is inevitable that Eisenfeldt gets the rug and the paintings, and you are made comfortable for the rest of your days. A shabby business, and you shall rue it."

"My word?"

"I don't believe in it any longer," returned Cleigh.

Cunningham appealed to Jane.

"Give me the whole story, then I'll tell you what I believe," she said.

"You may be telling the truth."

What a queer idea--wanting his word believed! Why should it matter to him whether they believed in the honour of his word or not, when he held the whip hand and could act as he pleased? The poor thing! And as that phrase was uttered in thought, the glamour of him was dissipated; she saw Cunningham as he was, a poor benighted thing, half boy, half demon, a thing desperately running away from his hurt and lashing out at friends and enemies alike on the way.

"Tell your story--all of it."

Cunningham began:

"About a year ago the best friend I had--perhaps the only friend I had--died. He left me his chart and papers. The atoll is known, but uncharted, because it is far outside the routes. I have no actual proofs that there will be sh.e.l.l in the lagoon; I have only my friend's word--the word of a man as honest as sunshine. Where this sh.e.l.l lies there is never any law. Some pearl thiever may have fallen upon the sh.e.l.l since my friend discovered it."

"In that case," said Cleigh, "I lose?"

"Frankly, yes! All financial ventures are attended by certain risks."