The Pawns Count Part 54

A well-bred Englishman is so different from these foreigners."

Pamela laid down her book and drew her writing block towards her.

"I'll write and invite him down at once," she suggested.

"Your uncle will be delighted," Mrs. Hastings purred....

Lutchester received his invitation in New York and arrived in Manchester three days later. Pamela met him at the station with a couple of boatmen by her side.

"If you wouldn't mind sailing home?" she proposed. "The house is practically on an island, and the tide is just right. These men will take your luggage."

They walked down to the little dock together.

Pamela talked all the time, but Lutchester was curiously tongue-tied.

"You'll find Uncle Theodore, and aunt, too, most amusing," she confided. "It is perfectly obvious that there is nothing uncle regrets so much as his temporary linking up with Fischer and his friends; in fact, he is going to Europe almost at once--I am convinced for no other reason than to give him an excuse, upon his return, for blossoming out as a fervent supporter of the Allies."

"Are you going too?" Lutchester inquired. "Shall I? Well, I am not really sure," she declared, as they reached the little wooden dock. "I suppose I shall, especially if I can find something to do. I may even turn nurse."

"You will be able to find plenty to do," he a.s.sured her. "If nothing else turns up, you can help me."

They stepped on to the yacht. Pamela, a radiant vision in white, with white flannel skirt, white jersey and tam-o'-shanter, took the helm, and was busy for a few moments getting clear. Afterwards she leaned back amongst the cushions, with Lutchester by her side.

"In the agitation of missing that buoy," he reminded her, "you forgot to answer my last suggestion."

"Is there any way in which I could help you?" she asked.

"You can help me in the greatest of all ways," he replied promptly.

"You can give me just that help which only the woman who cares can give to the man who cares for her, and if that isn't exciting enough," he went on, after a moment's pause, "well, I dare say I can find you some work in the censor's department."

"Isn't censoring a little dull?" she murmured.

"Then you choose--"

Her hand slipped into his. A little breeze filled their sails at that moment. The wonderful blue water of the bay sparkled with a million gleams of sunshine. Lutchester drew a great breath of content.

"That's aunt on the landing-stage, watching us through her gla.s.ses,"

Pamela pointed out, making a feeble attempt to withdraw her hand.

"It will save us the trouble," he observed, resisting her effort, "of explanations."

Lutchester found his host and hostess unexpectedly friendly. They even accepted with cheerful philosophy the news that Lutchester's work in America was almost finished for the time, and that Pamela was to accompany him to Europe almost immediately. After dinner, when the two men were left at the table, Hastings became almost confidential.

"So far as regards the sympathies of this country, Mr. Lutchester," he said, "the final die has been cast within the last few weeks. There has always been," he proceeded, "a certain irritation existing between even the Anglo-Saxon Americans and your country. We have fancied so often that you have adopted little airs of superiority towards us, and that your methods of stating your intentions have not always taken account of our own little weaknesses. Then America, you know, loves a good fight, and the Germans are a wonderful military people. They were fighting like giants whilst you in England were still slacking. But it is Germany herself, or rather her sons and friends, who have destroyed her chances for her. Fischer, for instance," he went on, fingering his winegla.s.s. "I have always looked upon Oscar Fischer as a brilliant and far-seeing man. He was one of those who set themselves deliberately to win America for the Germans. A more idiotic bungle than he has made of things I could scarcely conceive. He has reproduced the diplomatic methods which have made Germany unpopular throughout the world. He has tried bullying, cajolery, and false-hood, and last of all he has plunged into crime. No German-American will henceforth ever have weight in the counsels of this country. I do not mind confessing," Mr.

Hastings continued, as he himself filled his guest's gla.s.s and then his own, "that I myself was at one time powerfully attracted towards the Teuton cause. They are a nation wonderful in science, wonderful in warfare, with strong and admirable national characteristics. Yet they are going to lose this war through sheer lack of tact, for the want of that kindliness, that generosity of temperament, which exists and makes friends in nations as in individuals. The world for Germany, you know, and h.e.l.l for her enemies!... But I am keeping you."

Lutchester drank his wine and rose to his feet.

"Pamela is sitting on the rocks there," Mr. Hastings observed. "I think that she wants to sail you over to Misery Island. We get some unearthly meal there at ten o'clock and come back by moonlight. It is a sort of torture which we always inflict upon our guests. My wife and I will follow in the launch."

"To Misery Island!" Lutchester repeated.

His host smiled as he led the way to the piazza steps. Pamela had already stepped into the boat, and with the help of a boatman was adjusting the sail. She waved her hand gaily and pointed to the level stretch of placid water, still faintly brilliant in the dying sunlight.

"You think that we shall reach Misery Island before the tide turns?"

she called out.

Lutchester stepped lightly into the boat and took the place to which she pointed.

"I am content," he said, "to take my chance."

THE END