CHAPTER XXIV
Felixstowe carefully concluded the enfolding of Jacob's outstretchedform in an enormous rug, placed a tumbler of soda water and some drybiscuits within easy reach of him, and stepped back to inspect hishandiwork.
"A bit drawn about the gills, old top," he remarked sympathetically."How are you feeling now?"
"Better," Jacob murmured weakly. "And kindly remember that I am youremployer, and don't call me 'old top.'"
"Sorry," was the cheerful reply. "One has to drop into this sort ofthing by degrees. I've a kind of naturally affectionate disposition,you know, when I'm with a pal."
"Get your typewriter and practise," Jacob directed. "I'll try and giveyou a letter."
"So to the daily toil," the young man chanted, as he turned away."I've got the little beauty in the saloon."
Jacob groaned and closed his eyes, for the motion of the steamer, twodays out of Liverpool for New York, still awoke revolutionary symptomsin his interior. Presently Felixstowe returned, carrying a smalltypewriter. He arranged himself in the adjoining chair, drew up hisknees, took out the typewriter from its case, and, with his pipe inthe corner of his mouth, sat waiting.
"Ready," he announced.
"Oh, damn!" Jacob groaned. "Write a letter to yourself."
"I'll write a line to you," the young man suggested soothingly.
He attacked his task very much as a child trying to spell out "TheBluebells of Scotland" on a piano with one finger. In a few minutes,with an air of pride, he drew out the sheet and passed it to hiscompanion. Jacob stretched out a feeble hand and read listlessly.
Dear Mr. Pratt,
I believe that a couple of dry Martini cocktails would do us both good.
Faithfully yours, Felixstowe. Sec. (Very sec!)
A weak smile parted Jacob's lips and he grunted assent. Felixstoweexchanged cabalistic signs with the deck steward, and in due coursethe latter appeared with a couple of glasses filled with frostedamber liquid. Jacob hesitated for a moment doubtfully.
"Try mental suggestion," the young man advised, looking lovingly athis glass. "Put it where the cat can't get it and say to yourself,'This is going to do me good.' Cheerio!"
Two empty glasses were replaced upon the tray. Jacob raised himself alittle in his chair.
"I believe I feel better already," he announced.
"Won't know yourself in an hour's time," his companion assured him. "Ishall give you a pint of champagne and a sandwich at twelve o'clock,and you'll be taking me on at shuffleboard after lunch. Hullo, anotherwireless!"
"Read it for me," Jacob directed.
The young man tore open the envelope and read out the message:
Brother's condition unchanged. Your presence urgently needed. Will meet New York. Morse, Secretary.
"Poor old Sam!" Jacob murmured.
"He'll pull through, if he's got your constitution," Felixstoweobserved cheerfully. "I've never seen you under the weather yet."
"That's because I take care of myself," Jacob said a little severely.
"Great Caesar's ghost! Hi!"
The young secretary was sitting bolt upright in his chair. A man anda woman, passing along the deck, turned in surprise at the challenge.The surprise speedily became amazement, and the amazement universal.
"Sybil Bultiwell!" Jacob gasped, forgetting all about his seasickness.
"Maurice Penhaven!" Felixstowe exclaimed. "What in the name of thunderare you two doing here together?"
Sybil, being a woman, was the first to recover herself. She laughedsoftly.
"We do seem to come across one another in strange places and understrange conditions, don't we?" she said to Jacob. "This, perhaps, isthe strangest of all. I am on my honeymoon."
"Married?" Jacob gasped, throwing off his rugs and sitting upright."But I was going to--you were--oh, damn!"
She made a little grimace and drew him to one side.
"I can guess what is in your mind, Mr. Pratt," she said, "and I wantto have a perfectly clear understanding with you. Tell me now, did Iever give you the slightest encouragement? Did I ever give you thefaintest reason to hope that I should ever, under any circumstances,be willing to marry you?"
"I can't say that you did," Jacob admitted sadly, gripping at the railagainst which they were standing. "I never left off hoping, though."
"Now that I have become unexpectedly a very happy woman," Sybil wenton, with a new softness in her tone, "I will confess that I wasperhaps unreasonable so far as regards your treatment of my father."
"Thank God for that, anyhow!" Jacob muttered.
"There were times," Sybil went on reflectively, "when I very nearlyadmired you."
"For example?"
"When you opened the door of the house in Russell Square for me andcalmly took back your notes which I had been to fetch. That was onetime, at any rate. But I never had the slightest feeling of affectionfor you, or the slightest intention of marrying you, however long youwaited. Now I am going to tell you something else, if I may."
"Go on, please," Jacob begged, in a melancholy tone.
"I do not think that you have ever been really in love with me. Youare rather a sentimental person, and you were in love with a girl in awhite gown who walked with you in a rose garden one wonderful evening,and was very kind to you simply to atone for other people's rudeness.It wasn't you I was being kind to at all. It was simply a sensitiveguest who had been a little hurt."
"I see," he sighed.
"I had no idea," she went on reflectively, "that you were likely tomisunderstand. It was one of my father's weaknesses that he sometimesforgot himself and did not sufficiently consider people's feelings.He was rude to you that night, and I was ashamed and did my best toatone. I had no idea that you were going to take it all so seriously.But I want you, Mr. Pratt," she went on earnestly, "to remember this.It was no real person with whom you walked in the garden that night.It was no real person the recollection of whom you have chosen to keepin your heart all this time, and with whom you have fancied yourselfin love. It was just a creature of your own fancy. You are such akind-hearted person really, and you ought to be happy. Can't youuntwine all those sentimental fancies of yours and find some reallynice, human girl with whom to bedeck them? There are so many women inthe world, Jacob Pratt, who would like to have you for a husband,apart from your money."
"If it weren't for the money--" Jacob began sadly.
She interrupted him with a little peal of laughter.
"Faithless!" she exclaimed. "I can see that you have some one in yourmind already. Don't think too much about your wealth. I am a veryordinary sort of girl, you know, and it didn't make any difference tome. Maurice hasn't as many hundreds a year as you have thousands, butI am quite content. Your money may make marriage more possible with agirl who has been extravagantly brought up, but that needn't preventher really caring for you. So please cheer up, Mr. Jacob Pratt, andlet us all be friends."
They turned back towards the others. The explanation between LordFelixstowe and his sister's quondam fiance had been delayed by theintervention of the Captain, who had paused on his daily promenade tosay a few words. Felixstowe was just then, however, undertaking hisobvious duty.
"Seems to me, young fellow," he said, addressing Penhaven, "that a fewwords of explanation are due between us two."
"You needn't come the heavy brother," the latter replied. "Your sisterand I broke our engagement mutually, some time ago. I can assure you,and she will tell you the same, that her feelings towards me havechanged far more completely even than mine towards her."
"Well, I'm jiggered!" Lord Felixstowe exclaimed.
"Where did you and Captain Penhaven meet?" Jacob asked miserably.
"I used to go in, as you know, and play Lady Mary's accompaniments,"Sybil explained. "Captain Penhaven was often there and used to take mehome sometimes. From my own observation," she went on, "I can confirmwhat Maurice has jus
t said about the relations between Lady Mary andhimself. For some reason or other she became absolutely indifferent tohim about that time."
"So, according to you two, nobody's got a grievance," Felixstoweobserved. "If my new employer's satisfied--well, I suppose that's anend of it."
"Your what?" Sybil demanded.
The young man waved his hand genially towards Jacob.
"He's taken me on as secretary," he announced. "First job, trip out toAmerica to visit sick brother and look after business complications.We've dealt with weighty affairs already this morning."
"What's become of your Mr. Dauncey, then?" Sybil enquired.
"I have made him secretary of the Cropstone Wood Estates Company,"Jacob told her. "He has my affairs to look after as well while I amaway."
A sound familiar to the nautical ears of Lord Felixstowe reached themfrom the bows of the ship.
"Sun's over the yardarm," he announced. "How are you feeling now,old--Mr. Pratt?"
"You order," Jacob replied.
It was a moderately cheerful little party who drank the health of thebride and bridegroom. Afterwards, however, Jacob passed a day ofcuriously tangled sensations. The summons to New York had been tooperemptory for him to delay even an hour, but he had sent a note toMiss Bultiwell at the address in Belgrave Square, asking for a fewminutes' interview before he left. Naturally he had received noanswer. Now he was face to face with absolute and accomplishedfailure in one of the fixed purposes of his life. He was an obstinateperson, used to success,--so used to it, in fact, that the presentsituation left him dazed. His first determination, when success hadsmiled upon him, had been to marry Sybil Bultiwell. He had neverflinched from that purpose. He had even, in his heart, consideredhimself engaged. Any thoughts which might have come to him of anyother woman he had pushed away as a species of infidelity. And nowthere wasn't any Sybil Bultiwell. She was married and out of hisreach. He felt that the proper thing for him to do was to go down tohis cabin and nurse his broken heart; instead of which he drankchampagne for dinner, found a few kindred spirits who liked a mildgame of poker, and went to bed whistling at two o'clock in themorning. His young companion, who had won a fiver and was in a mostbeatific state, came and sat on his bunk whilst he undressed.
"Jacob, my well-beloved," he said, "you are taking this little setbacklike a hero."
"What setback?" Jacob asked.
"Little affair of Miss Bultiwell," Felixstowe replied, gazingadmiringly at Jacob's well-suspended silk socks. "Mary told me allabout it."
Jacob sighed heavily.
"Nasty knock for me," he admitted, with a curiously unconvincing noteof gloom in his tone.
"And Mary, poor old girl, is in the same boat," Felixstowe went onreflectively. "Still, she never cared much for Maurice ... led him anawful dance, the last few months. And you were head over heels in lovewith Miss Bultiwell, weren't you?"
"I adored her," Jacob declared, taking a long gulp of the whisky andsoda which he had brought in for a nightcap. "Worshipped her," headded, finishing it with much satisfaction.
Felixstowe sighed sympathetically.
"Rotten luck for you, having 'em on board, honeymooning," he observed."Never mind, keep a stiff upper lip, old thing. Let me know if I canbutt in any time on the right side. You'll perhaps stay in yourstateroom to-morrow?"
"Not I!" was the hasty reply. "I shall face it out."
"Hero!" his companion murmured. "Don't you brood over this thing,Jacob. Close your eyes and try and count sheep, or something of thatsort. Call me in if you get very melancholy during the night, and I'llread to you."
"You needn't worry," Jacob assured him. "I have an iron will. Anddon't be so long in the bath to-morrow morning."
"Tap three times on the door," the young man enjoined, "and I willremember that it is my master's voice."
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