The other had fired the first shot: he had planned to trap him with a decoy, and in the end it was survival of the fittest.

These thoughts had been frequently in his mind, but he had resolutely driven them from him. Now they were nearing another port, a great commercial cross-ways of the travel world. Here again he was coming within the grasp of the law.

He was not too certain that all had been given up, in that questioning pursuit of the Princess and her party. That broken door lock might yet admit the hand of legal vengeance.

"And that Duke? He'll try to earn that five thousand dollars surely enough now. Well, I'd better be worrying over my own future instead of the dead past. They've said 'let the dead past bury itself, and don't climb the graveyard fence.' That's good logic. But I'd better be looking toward some of the fences ahead. I wonder what is on the paper?"

He returned to his stateroom, where Rusty was dozing in a chair, waiting for the good-night instructions.

Jarvis sat down and studied the fragment. He sat bolt upright, at first with rage and then a growing amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Look here, Rusty. This Duke is trying to put one over on me," he declared, waking his servant.

"Huh? What's dat, Ma.r.s.e Warren?" and Rusty rubbed his eyes drowsily.

"Do you see what this paper is?"

"Looks like a telegram letter, boss."

"That's a wireless blank, Rusty. It has never been sent. It is the first draft. See--the words are crossed out here, and a sentence changed there. The person who wrote this message tried to save money, by cutting it down, just as we, back home, waste a dollar's worth of time, trying to shorten a telegraph message into ten words. Isn't that reasonable?"

"Ya.s.sir. But what does it mean? I don't read no sich langwidge."

Jarvis smiled.

"It's in Spanish. It's addressed to Scotland Yard, in London."

"What's dat? Is it some schoolhouse lot?"

"It's detective headquarters, Rusty. And it is about me."

"About you-all!" Rusty was wide awake by this time, in all truth. He had an instinctive suspicion of anything connected with bra.s.s b.u.t.tons and detectives.

"Yes. It warns Scotland Yard that a man named Warren, on this steamship, is wanted by the New York police, and that I should be arrested before the pa.s.sengers can leave."

"Who signed dat mizzable contraption?"

"It isn't signed, Rusty. The only person who writes Spanish and who could be so deeply interested in my wickedness is that high and mighty relative of the Princess. He wrote it in Spanish so the wireless operator probably wouldn't notice or understand the message."

"Well, Ma.r.s.e Warren, dis is a ship--dey alluz has ropes. Can't you climb overboard when she is. .h.i.tched to de wharfboat?"

Jarvis was thinking rapidly. He looked at his watch.

"The detectives will come on with the pilot boat, Rusty, which I understand meets the _Mauretania_ about eight or ten miles offsh.o.r.e.

There won't be any chance on the wharfboat. But that gives me a good idea--however, it doesn't seem right to make the Duke of Alva waste his hard-earned coin on wireless messages. There's no free list with Marconi, you know."

Jarvis was walking up and down the stateroom nervously by this time.

"Rusty, in my suitcase is an old suit of clothes which I put in to use, if I had to jump the town on account of Marc.u.m. I thought I might go to the mountains when I went over to the Belmont Hotel. Now, get it out, and those old tennis shoes, and that cap."

"Whaffor, Ma.r.s.e Warren?" The big whites of his eyes were rolling--an indication that Rusty Snow's mind was not as much at ease as usual.

"You ain't gonta do nothin' dangerous, is you, Ma.r.s.e Warren? Remember you-all is de oney one left in de fam'ly an' you's got to look after yohself."

Warren placed a kindly hand on the negro's shoulder.

"Rusty, I remember that once when Meadow Green got too small for you, years ago, you started out with a minstrel show--'The Darktown Merrymakers,' they called it."

This leap over the chasm of years was too much for Rusty.

"Ya.s.sir," he agreed, after recovering from his surprise. "But, I had to walk back home."

"The thing I want to know, Rusty, is whether you learned how to act when you were with that troupe. Did you?"

"Did I? Ma.r.s.e Warren, dere wasn't no _amotion_ dat wasn't developed in me on dat trip--I started off laughin' and came back like a weepin'

angel."

"Ha, ha!" laughed Jarvis. "That's splendid. Now, Rusty, I want to have you do some more play-acting--only turn it around. This time I want you to go away weeping, and we'll come back laughing!"

Rusty was actually offended.

"Ah, Ma.r.s.e Warren. You's pickin' on de ole n.i.g.g.e.r. Dat was w'en I was a young an' sa.s.sy c.o.o.n. No moh actin' fer mine."

"That's just what you've got to do, Rusty. Obey orders or walk back to New York!"

Rusty blinked and grumbled to himself. Then, as usual, he acquiesced with that famous grin.

"Oh, Ma.r.s.e Warren, I'm game fer anything dat you is. What is de play?"

"I think we can call this one 'Why Dukes Leave Home,' Rusty. Now, you get busy with those clothes, and pack up the suitcases again, so they won't be missed. I'm going on the boat deck, over us, for a little walk and some thinking."

Jarvis was gone for about fifteen minutes. Rusty was beginning to get nervous by the time he had returned. His hands and face were sooty.

"Where you-all been, Ma.r.s.e Warren? Climbin' up on de smokestack?"

"No, just investigating things. Now, after I write this note I will tell you about your acting and give you a rehearsal. I haven't any time to lose, Rusty."

Warren wrote very carefully, tearing the paper up several times and throwing the fragments through the open porthole, for this was an outside stateroom. At last he had finished it.

He smiled over it more than once, finally sealed it, and laid it carefully in the center of the little folding writing-desk, where it was in plain view from the door.

Then he began to disrobe, changing to the rough old suit and the tennis shoes. He dispensed with undergarments and hose.

"Now, Rusty, I want you to go down to the steward of the second cabin and tell him you are very hungry. Get some good sliced meat, some biscuits, and some fruit. Wrap it up in paper--I know it's late, but there's always someone on watch in the pantry. A little American money will go a long way with these British stewards. Hurry back."

As soon as Rusty was out of the room, Jarvis wrapped the money-belt firmly about his body, under the flannel shirt. He placed some gold coins in a handkerchief, which he tied into a knot. Then he slipped out to the promenade deck, walking along its deserted length to the room of the Princess. He tapped on the window of the parlor of the suite until the door opened slightly.

Nita's frightened voice came to him. He answered rea.s.suringly.

"It is Warren. I want to speak to the Princess."