The old man sighed as his tie went straight.

"Your imagination is beyond me. I could never have seen these things as you see them. I am anxious for you."

"Don't trouble about me. Be anxious if you will, but let that anxiety be for the woman I love, and whom I hope even after this to present to you as your daughter. If she is safe, then--for me nothing else matters. I have done all that is humanly possible, at least which is possible to me. The rest is in the lap of the G.o.ds. Wish me luck, Dad, and good-bye."

He held out his hand. In a moment it was enveloped in both of his father's.

"With all my heart, lad. Good-bye. You will win out, I'm sure."

Then he turned again to his dressing-table and picked up his hair-brushes. He attacked his crisply curling white hair with almost unnecessary violence while his eyes watched the retreating figure of his only son in the reflection of the mirror.

Sunday dawned with a clouded, watery sky. All the morning the threat of rain held. Then, at lunch-time, a wind sprang out of the northeast, and the atmosphere grew dry and crisp, and the clouds lightened. The grey North Sea changed its hue to a lighter green, and at long intervals whitecaps broke up the oily aspect. The breeze had freshened by three o'clock and a chill swept over the moorlands, and the feel and aspect of winter settled upon the dull-tinted landscape. As evening began to close in the breeze dropped, and with it fell the temperature.

Two figures paced the winding footpath at the edge of the cliffs. Both were clad in heavy civilian ulsters, and their coat-collars sheltered the lower portions of their clean-shaven faces. In their shaded eyes was that far-off gaze which is only to be found in the eyes of men of the sea. It is an expression which must ever betray the man who belongs to the sea the moment he approaches that element, which is at once his friend and his bitterest foe.

Sir Reginald Steele paused and pointed out at the already darkening horizon.

"What a target," he cried. "Look at her, with her absurdly proud and vaunting four funnels. Look at the great upstanding chest like some vain pouter-pigeon. Man, give me an armored submarine, with a brace of heavy guns on it, and wirelessly controlled torpedoes, and I'd--sink her cold. I'd sink her before she got my range. I'd sink her while she fumbled amongst her c.u.mbersome armaments."

He laughed the merry laugh of a man who wishes to probe the open wound of disagreement between two close friends.

"You're welcome to the submarine, Reggie. I'll take the 'pouter' every time. I'll give you a dozen shots with your wireless controlled as a start, and your pop-guns can amuse themselves indefinitely. She's a handsome craft. Town cla.s.s, isn't she? She'd make you hate it in spite of your steel-clad hide."

Both men were smiling pleasantly as they watched the distant cruiser steaming slowly and sedately upon the wintry waters. The challenge had been replied to, and neither of the men seemed inclined to carry the debate further. Admiral Sir Reginald Steele had hurled every argument in favor of his submarine beliefs at the head of his friend and chief, during official hours, and they had agreed to differ. Now, in friendly intercourse, he was ready to add his pin-p.r.i.c.ks, but he knew there was nothing important to be gained.

"The Farlows are smart men," he observed presently, obviously following out his train of thought aloud. "The old man is something unusual in the way of a shipmaster. One doesn't a.s.sociate these shipping princes with real understanding of naval force. But once or twice yesterday I thought there were things he could teach me."

"Yes."

Sir Joseph was intent upon the movements of the cruiser. She had displayed no lights and the dusk was creeping on.

"I suppose it is the old man who is the genius of Dorby. What about young Ruxton? Harborough is keen on him. So is Lordburgh. I confess to a weakness that way myself. That was a great stroke of his, getting the secrets of that place in the Baltic. Apparently there's some one also who shares your faith in--underwater."

Sir Reginald had become absorbed in the horizon. He produced a pair of gla.s.ses and peered out in the gathering gloom.

"All far-seeing people do. These Farlows for instance," he replied.

"What's that beyond the cruiser? She's low in the water."

Sir Joseph produced gla.s.ses. For some silent minutes they remained scouring the sea with eyes long trained to the work. Finally it was Sir Joseph who spoke.

"You should recognize it," he said.

"Yes. Underwater, and--a foreigner."

They relapsed into a long silence. The stars came out and a light frost was settling upon the moor. The air was brilliantly clear. Their gla.s.ses revealed the two distant objects.

"She's hove-to," observed Sir Reginald later on.

"The cruiser--yes. That's a mistake."

Sir Joseph made a sound of impatience with his tongue.

Again a prolonged silence fell. Both men were absorbed. The pa.s.sage of time seemed of no consequence. The cold of the night seemed to concern them not at all.

"I don't know," Steele said much later, in answer to his chief's remark. "You can't tell what's doing from here. Nor what arrangements young Farlow has made. Ah!"

"Lights." Sir Joseph waited.

"Green astern. White ahead. Red amidships. The foreigner has shed a pinnace. It's coming ash.o.r.e. It's getting interesting. That boy seemed pretty clear. I hope things are all right."

The boat was racing towards the sh.o.r.e at a point to the right of the two watchers. Sir Reginald was following it closely with his night gla.s.ses. The other continued his survey of the vessels beyond.

Presently he spoke.

"She's steaming again--the cruiser."

"Yes." The other's gla.s.ses were raised towards the horizon again.

"She's covered the foreigner's lights." Sir Joseph lowered his gla.s.ses.

"What's the time?"

His companion lowered his gla.s.ses. He glanced at his watch.

"Nearly half-past six," he said significantly. Then in a moment his gla.s.ses were levelled at a point much nearer into land. "Ah, here she comes," he said, in his quick way. "Now the play begins. The curtain's going up. No lights. A good many regulations are being broken to-night.

Shall we need an enquiry into it, Chief?" Sir Reginald laughed. "Well, Lordburgh is to blame if any trouble occurs. He forced us to lend our powerful aid in this thing. The odds are on that boy Ruxton. I'd bet my hopes of pension on it. He's keen and confident. Such romance never came our way, eh? I haven't heard before of units of the British Navy being used to secure a man a wife."

Sir Joseph laughed shortly.

"There's a good deal more than a woman in this. According to Lordburgh this trifling naval episode may secure the person of Germany's strong man--criminally engaged. It would be worth while. Sparling's a good man. If they pull it off it'll be his best day's work. h.e.l.lo!"

At that moment a great white beam of light shot athwart the sky. It moved swiftly and rigidly. It swept in a great arc and settled on the face of the cliff away to their right.

"Look. Three lights just below us." Sir Reginald pointed out upon the water. "Green astern. White ahead. Red amidships. It isn't the foreigner from outside. It's----"

"Hark!" Sir Joseph held up a warning hand.

The two men listened acutely. Far away, remote but distinct, the sound of a pistol-shot reached them.

"That's the second," said Sir Joseph. "Come along, let's go and see what's happening."

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE WEEK-END