"It's not my fault that he ain't here, sir," the fellow replied in seemingly surly protest. "Nothing I could say would make him stop. As soon as the launch came he insisted on going off to the steamer."

Violet uttered a cry of anguish. Her self-set task had failed. Not only had her lover fled, but he had fled like a craven without keeping the tryst which he had himself sought.

"Did he leave no message?" Nugent inquired, in a tone of perplexity that sounded perfectly natural.

"He did that," replied Tuke. "I was to say that he was frightened to wait about here on the sh.o.r.e lest the coppers should pinch him, but that he would ask the captain, directly he got on board, to keep the yacht out there for a bit, and to send the launch back for the lady. Then she could come out to the steamer and bid him good-bye, and the launch could put her ash.o.r.e again afterwards."

Nugent turned impetuously to Violet. It was too dark for her to see the expression on his face, but the quiver in his voice was eloquent of hardly-restrained indignation. "Chermside must have lost his head or his nerve," he said. "Though that is no excuse for such a want of consideration. The request is outrageous. I will not worry you with my sympathy, Miss Maynard, for I cannot trust myself to speak. Come! Let me take you home without delay, for of course you will not accede to this preposterous request."

"On the contrary, that is exactly what I mean to do--if the launch comes for me," replied Violet, straining her wet eyes seaward through the gloom. "You must remember that it was not to say farewell but to prevent him from going that I came here, Mr. Nugent. I am very sensible of your kindness in bringing me, and I regret Mr. Chermside's conduct as an insult to you, even greater than to me. I will not ask you to remain till I return from the steamer. If--if I am alone I shall prefer to make my way home by myself."

"My duty to your father, who is my friend----" Nugent was beginning.

"I have my duty to myself, and to my affianced husband to consider,"

Violet cut him short. "Pray spare me an argument in my distress, Mr.

Nugent. My mind is quite made up to go out to the yacht."

And, as if to fortify her resolve, there sounded from the dark sea the pulsing clack of the electric launch as it sped towards the sh.o.r.e. A few moments later it had been skilfully beached, and a gruff voice inquired in a guarded undertone--

"Is the lady there?"

"Yes, I am here and ready," responded Violet eagerly; and she went down across the pebbles to where the bows of the tiny craft nuzzled the sh.o.r.e. A h.o.r.n.y hand was stretched out to her, and she was drawn on board. When Nugent had tossed a letter into her, the launch backed off, and, circling round, started for the second time that night on its trip back to the steamer.

"Pray do not wait, Mr. Nugent; I shall be really vexed if you do,"

Violet's vibrant tones rang from the fast-receding launch.

The reply was uttered so low that it reached no ears but those of Tuke, who, like some foul bird of the night, had hovered round, taking no part in the scene after the delivery of his alleged message.

"I have no intention of causing you any such vexation, dear lady. The wait would, indeed, be a long one," was what Travers Nugent said, as he turned to climb the steps to the top of the cliff.

And the subtle humour of the remark, which was apparently intelligible to "the Bootlace Man," caused that worthy to break into a sn.i.g.g.e.r of servile laughter--the kind of merriment which the junior bar concedes to a jest from the bench.

"That's a good 'un, sir," he wheezed. "She won't trouble you much more, I'm thinking. But what about the little gel in the grotto? She'll make it nasty for us if she ain't let out soon, I reckon."

"Not for _us_, Tuke," was Nugent's sardonic rejoinder. "But she will probably make it very nasty for _you_, or rather her father will. I intend you to bear the brunt of Mr. Mallory's displeasure, my friend, on the usual terms. In other words, you will be well paid for any unpleasantness you may incur on my behalf. I am going to release Miss Enid Mallory now, and as the tale I intend to regale her with does not entail your presence, you had better go back to your lodging. And by the first train in the morning you must clear right out for your kennel in London. I will communicate with you by letter as to future requirements."

So at the summit of the cliff they separated, Tuke taking the path to the lower end of the town, where for some days he had been domiciled in a fisherman's cottage, and Nugent striking out across the moor for the back way into his own grounds.

Before he closed the door in the hedge, he turned and looked seaward.

Some three miles out a brilliant streak of light was visible. It was moving rapidly westward, like a golden snake gliding on the face of the dark waters. The phenomenon was evidently caused by the port-hole lights of an electrically-lit steamer.

The watcher drew a deep breath of satisfaction. "Brant has lost no time in getting under weigh," he muttered, as he softly shut the door.

CHAPTER XXII

THE SHADOW OF HORROR

Leslie Chermside, having taken his seat in the launch, felt more at ease in his mind than he had done for many a day. Ever since he had been told of the suspicion that threatened him in respect of Levison's death, he had been reconciling himself to the loss of Violet. That dream of midsummer madness had from the first, he realized, from the nature of the circ.u.mstances, been doomed to a rude awakening, in spite of Aunt Sarah's generosity. The shattering of his ill-starred love idyll might be borne manfully, as an adequate punishment for his iniquity, and when time had healed his wound he might even rejoice in his expiation.

But with very different feelings had he viewed the possible revelation of his misdeed. That simply would not bear thinking about. That Violet should ever know that he had sought her out in order that her proud young beauty should be offered as an unwilling sacrifice to a licentious Eastern prince was an ever-present nightmare that set him trembling like a frightened child.

And now the strain was over. By his flight he had escaped the terrible disclosures which would have followed arrest, no matter what the verdict might have been. That Violet would resent his conduct and despise him for it he could not help. Even if Nugent kept his promise of trying to soften it down, the girl's displeasure was inevitable, but it would be as heaven to h.e.l.l compared with the ignominy he would have incurred by full disclosure. And, to do him justice, he had not been wholly selfish in shrinking from that ignominy. He knew his sweetheart's pure faith in him, and he had been honestly anxious to spare her virginal soul the shock of discovering the loathsome thing from which her short-lived romance had sprung. It might even have been her death-wound--to find that she, the coldly-critical social queen, had surrendered, after so brief a wooing, to a miscreant who had set out to sell her into bondage.

Now, if his luck held, that hideous spectre of disgrace was laid for ever. He would go forth a lonely and a penniless man, to commence life afresh with what courage he could muster in some refuge for human derelicts beyond the seas. If he could not retrieve the past, he might at least lock it up in his own seared heart, as in a chamber of horrors to which he alone had access--to be a torment to himself alone.

So, as the launch cleft the calm sea, his troubled spirit caught something of the influence of the summer night, and he began to take an interest in his immediate prospects. Before he left London to come down to Ottermouth on his misguided mission, he had accompanied Nugent occasionally to the docks where the _Cobra_ was fitting out, and he had made the acquaintance of Captain Brant. In those reckless days he had conceived a great antipathy to the crafty and cruel sailor, and he had reason to believe that the dislike was reciprocated. He wondered how much Nugent had told Brant of their original scheme, and whether he had informed him that he was the cause of its failure. If so, he was likely to be treated with scant courtesy during the voyage.

He was not long left in doubt as to the captain's att.i.tude towards him when the launch had run alongside the steamer, and he had climbed the ladder to the deck. Brant met him as he stepped aboard, but ignored his presence, and called down to Bully Cheeseman and the two men who had remained in the launch--

"Now turn her right round and go back again to the same spot. You know what to do. You'll find Mr. Nugent waiting for you, I guess."

"Aye, aye, sir," came out of the darkness, and Leslie heard the tick-tack of the motor as the little craft sped for the sh.o.r.e. He could hardly believe his ears. Why should a second trip be necessary, and why should Nugent, who had declined to accompany him to the beach, be waiting there now, when his car had left The Hut shortly after his own departure?

"Good evening, captain," he said, forcing himself to speak civilly. "Is it not rather risky to hang about off sh.o.r.e now that I am aboard?"

Brant's baleful eyes blazed like coals of fire in the blackness of the darkened ship. "And who the h--ll are you, sir, to dictate to me what's a risk and what isn't?" the commander of the _Cobra_ piped in his shrill falsetto. "I understand that it's your d.a.m.ned foolishness that's made all this jiggery-pokery necessary. A nice one to talk about risks, when we're taking them on your account. You just have patience, and amuse yourself till I have time to attend to you."

He swung on his heel and mounted the stairs to the bridge, where he entered into a low-voiced colloquy with one of his subordinates. Only a few words of it reached Leslie, but they were enough to show that a keen look-out was being kept for the approach of fishing or other small boats to the steamer. That was all in order. Being engaged in the punishable offence of a.s.sisting a fugitive from justice to escape arrest it was intelligible that the captain should be anxious to cover the traces of his misdemeanour. But why the delay? Why the return trip of the launch to the sh.o.r.e, where, so far as he was aware, she had fulfilled her mission in bringing him safely off?

He could find no satisfactory answers to the questions, and, giving up the attempt, he tried to accept the situation philosophically. Not knowing what accommodation had been allotted to him, he could not seek his cabin; so he put his handbag down on the deck and set to pacing to and fro. It was so dark that it was almost impossible to distinguish objects close at hand, and though the crew were evidently alert and at their stations, he could make nothing of them individually. The discipline was perfect.

He pa.s.sed and repa.s.sed ghostlike figures on his promenade, sometimes singly and sometimes in groups, but they never spoke in so much as a whisper. The silence of the dead reigned over the ship.

He tired of walking at last, and, leaning over the stern-rail, let his eyes range towards the twinkling lights of distant Ottermouth. At this late hour they were momentarily growing fewer, only the larger residences on the hill behind the town showing up in bold relief, and the row of lodging-houses on the parade flanked by the more brilliant glow from the billiard-room of the club. The sight of the quiet haven which had yielded him a short and fickle respite renewed his remorse and filled him with regret. Such joys as the placid little pleasure-haunt had to offer were not for him. His proper place was on the sc.r.a.p-heap of human failures.

The depression found vent in a sigh that was more than half a groan, and he was immediately surprised to hear it echoed near by. Turning sharply, he discerned the dim outline of a woman also leaning over the stern-rail within a few feet of him.

"Don't mind me," she said, noticing his start. "I expect I shouldn't have made any sound if you hadn't let on that you had the blues too.

Sighing is pretty near as catching as yawning, I've been told, and now I know it's true."

Leslie could not see her features--only that she was tall and finely-built. He wondered who the woman could be, for he had not been informed by Nugent of the engagement of any female attendants.

"Perhaps your case is the same as my own--that you are not looking forward to the voyage with pleasure?" he said kindly.

Miss Nettle Jimpson uttered a short laugh. "At any rate, you are starting of your own free will," she said. "At least I suppose so, for I was watching you when you came aboard just now, and you didn't make any bones about it. It's different with me. That monkey-faced little devil on the bridge never gave me the option, but just shipped me like a bale of goods to suit his own convenience."

"But surely----" Leslie was beginning.

"Oh, don't make any mistake! I was a consenting party as soon as I heard the terms," Miss Jimpson cut him short, drawing a little nearer. "I'm an avaricious sort of beast, and the prospect of a quick haul tempted me to take Captain Brant's practical joke lying down. You see, I've got a young man in the navy, and it seemed a shorter cut to setting up housekeeping than serving behind the counter in a draper's shop. I acted on the spur of the moment, as I always do, and lucky for the captain I did, or he'd have got his ugly face scratched."

"May I ask what position you hold on board--for what duties you were engaged?" asked Leslie. The voluble young person puzzled him.

"Oh, I'm a kind of mix between a stewardess and a maid to the lady pa.s.senger, I believe, though that old rascal baited the hook by calling me a companion."