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"Then I shall leave you with a pleasant memory," Monty said. "Good day."
"Stop a moment," the stranger asked after a pause in which rage and astonishment chased themselves across his well-nourished countenance.
"Who do you think I am, anyway?"
"Your name and number don't interest me," Monty said loftily. He noted that the steward was enjoying it after the quiet inexpressive manner of the English servant. "But I've no doubt at some time or another I lost money to you--your old college friend's money of course--in some quiet game with your confederates."
"Now, what do you think of that!" the red-faced man exclaimed as he watched Monty's retreating figure. But the steward was non-committal. He was not paid to give up his inner thoughts but to bring drinks on a tray.
The stout and affable gentleman was a member of the Stock Exchanges of London and New York and made frequent journeys between these cities. He held the ocean record of having crossed more times and seen the waves less than any stock-broker living. He had pa.s.sed more hours in a favorite chair in the Mauretania's smoking-room than any man had done since time began. He was raconteur of ability and had been a close friend of the elder Vaughan's years before at Yale. And he burned with fierce indignation when he remembered that he had held the infant Monty years ago and prophesied to a proud mother that he would be her joy and pride. Joy and pride! He snorted and fell away from his true form so far as to seek the deck and suck in fresh air.
There he happened upon Mrs. Harrington talking to Denby. She knew G.o.dfrey Hazen. He had often been to Westbury, and Michael esteemed him for his great knowledge of the proper beverage to take for every emergency that may arise upon an ocean voyage.
"What makes you look so angry?" she exclaimed.
He calmed down when he saw her. "I've just been taken for a professional gambler," he cried.
"I thought all stock-brokers were that," she said smiling.
"I mean a different sort," he explained, "the kind that work the big liners. I just asked him to have a drink when he said he didn't drink with strangers and hinted I had my picture in the rogues' gallery."
"Who was it?" she inquired.
"That ne'er-do-well, Monty Vaughan," he answered.
"Monty?" she said. "Impossible!"
"Is it?" he said grimly. "We'll see. Here comes the young gentleman."
Monty sauntered up without noticing him at first. When he did, he stopped short and was in no whit abashed. "Trying a new game?" he inquired.
"Monty, don't you remember Mr. Hazen?" Alice said reproachfully.
"Have I made an a.s.s of myself?" he asked miserably.
"I wouldn't label any four-footed beast by the name I'd call you," said Mr. Hazen firmly.
"Why didn't you tell me your name?" Monty asked.
"You ought to have remembered me," the implacable Hazen retorted. "Why, I held you in my arms when you were only three months old."
"Then I wish you had dropped me and broken me," Monty exclaimed, "and I should have been spared a lot of worry." Things were piling up to make him more than ever nervous. He had overheard two pa.s.sengers saying they understood the Mauretania's voyagers were to have a special examination at the Customs on account of diamond smuggling. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hazen,"
he said more graciously, "but I've things on my mind and you must accept that as the reason."
When he had gone Mr. Hazen was introduced to Denby and prevailed upon to occupy Monty's seat.
"I don't like the look of it," Mr. Hazen said, shaking his head. "At his age he oughtn't to have any worries. I didn't."
"If you can keep a secret," Mrs. Harrington confided, "I think I can tell you exactly what is the matter with Monty and I'm sure you'll make excuses for him, Mr. Hazen."
"Maybe," he returned dubiously, "but you should have heard how he called me down before a steward!"
"Monty's in love," Mrs. Harrington declared, "and after almost two years' absence he is going to meet her again; and the dread of not daring to propose is sapping his brain. You're not the first. He's been out of sorts the whole time and I've had to smooth things over with other people. Come, now," she said coaxingly, "when you were young I'm sure you had some episodes of that sort yourself, now didn't you?"
Mr. Hazen tried not to let her see the proud memories that came surging back through a quarter of a century. "Well," he admitted, "if you put it that way, Mrs. Harrington, I've got to forgive the boy."
"I knew you would," she said, and talked nicely to him for reward.
Then the romance which he had resurrected faded; and the sight of so much salt in the waves--the unaccustomed waves--induced a provoking thirst and he rose and after a conventional lie retired to the smoking-room.
"All the same," Mrs. Harrington remarked to Denby, "I am worried about the boy."
"He'll get over it," said Steven.
"I hope so," she returned. "His nerves are all wrong. I thought he had the absinthe habit at first, but he's really quite temperate, and it's mental, I suspect. It may be Nora; I hope it is. She's a dear girl and Monty's really a big catch."
"Didn't you say you had bought her a present, some valuable piece of jewelry?"
"Which I have sworn to smuggle," she returned brightly, "despite your warning."
"For your sake I wish you wouldn't," he said, "but if your mind's made up, what will my words avail?"
"I'm not stubborn," she cried, "even Michael admits that. I am always open to conviction."
"If you smuggle, you are," he said meaningly. "Really, Mrs. Harrington, you've no idea how strict these examinations are becoming, and this vessel seems specially marked out for extra strict inspections. The popular journals have harped on the fact that the rich, influential women who use this and boats of this cla.s.s, are exempt, while the woman who saves up for a few weeks' jaunt and brings little inexpensive presents back, is caught."
"Are you sure of that?" she demanded.
"Why, yes," he returned. "It doesn't seem quite fair, does it?" he demanded, looking at her keenly. "It doesn't seem playing the game for the first cabin on the Mauretania to get in free while the second cabin gets caught."
"Have you ever smuggled?" she asked.
"Maybe," he said, "but if I have, it has not been a habit with me as with some rich people I know, who could so easily afford to pay."
"Suppose I do smuggle and get caught, I can pay without any further trouble, can't I?" she queried.
"You're just as likely to be detained," he told her. "To all intents and purposes, it's like being under arrest."
"Oh, Lord!" she cried. "And I shouldn't be able to get back to Michael?"
"Probably not," he said. "You see, Mrs. Harrington, you'd be a splendid tribute to the impartiality of the service. The publicity the Customs people would get from your case would be worth a lot to them.
Indirectly, you'd possibly promote hard-working inspectors."
"But I don't want to be a case," she exclaimed, "I'm not anxious to be put in a cell and promote hard-working inspectors. And think of poor Michael all ready with a crimson newly-devised drink pacing the floor while I'm undergoing the third degree! Mr. Denby, I still think the laws are absurd, but I shall declare everything I've got. I wonder if they would let Michael hand me his crimson drink through the bars."
Just then Monty made for them and dropped into his deck-chair.
"I'm going to be an honest woman," she declared, "and smuggle no more.
Mr. Denby is the miracle-worker. I shall probably have to borrow money to pay the duty, so be at hand, Monty."