menu_book Chapter 13

CHAPTER XIII. AND ON THE SHIPS AT SEA Mr. Paddock knew of a man on the waterfront who had a gasoline launch to rent, and fortunately it happened to be in commission. The two young men leaped into it. Paddock started the engine and they zipped with reassuring speed over the dark waters towards the lights of the Lilith. The accommodation ladder of the yacht was down and leaving a member of the crew to make

fast the launch, Minot and Paddock climbed hurriedly to the deck. Mr. Martin Wall was, at the moment, in the main cabin engaged in a game of German whist and his opponent was no less a person than George Harrabee of the peerage. Upon this quiet game, the two young men rushed in. Unexpected visitors, said Wall. Why, what's the matter, boys? Come out on deck a minute, said Minot rapidly. Wall threw down his cards and followed. Once outside, Minot went on,

no time to waste words. Tremor is collecting a mob in front of the opera house, and they're coming out here to search this boat. You know who they're looking for. With exaggerated calmness, Wall took out a cigar and lighted it. Indeed, he remarked, I told you it might be advisable to look up the penalty for kidnapping. But you knew best, ah, the impetuosity of youth. Well, this is no time to discuss that, replied Minot. We've got to act, and act quickly. Yes, Mr. Wall drawled.

What would you suggest? Shall we drown him? I've come to like George mighty well, but if you say the word. My plan is this, said Bonneau, annoyed by Wall's pleasantries. Turn George over to us. We'll bundle him into our launch and run off out of sight behind Tarragona Island. Then let Trimmer search to his heart's content. When he gets tired and quits, signal us by hanging a red lantern in the bow. Martin Wall smiled broadly. Not bad for an amateur kidnapper, he said. Will I turn George

over to you? Will the ducks swim? A good idea. For God's sakes, hurry, cried Minot. Look. He pointed to the largest of San Marcos' piers. The moon was lost under clouds now, but the electric lights on the waterfront revealed a swarming, shouting crowd of people. Martin Wall stepped to the door of the main cabin. Lord Harrowby, he cried. He turned to Minot and Paddock. I call him that to cheer him in captivity, he explained. The tall, weary Englishman strode out upon the deck.

Lord Harrowby, said Wall, these two gentlemen have come to take you for a boat ride. Will you be kind enough to step into that launch? Poor old George pulled himself together. If you'll pardon my language, I'll be damned if I do, he said. I take it Mr. Trimmer is on his way here.

Well, gentlemen, the first to grasp his hand when he boards the boat will be the chap who now addresses you. They stood gazing doubtfully at George in revolt. Then Minot turned and saw a rowboat putting off from the pier. Come on, he cried, and leaped on the shoulders of the aspirant to the title.

Paddock and Wall followed. Despite his discouraged appearance, George put up a lively fight. For a time, the four men struggled back and forth across the deck, now in moonlight, now in shadow. Once George slipped and fell, his three captors on top of him,

and at that moment Mr. Minot felt a terrific tugging at his coat. But the odds were three to one against George Harrowby, and finally he was dragged and pushed into the launch. Again Paddock started the engine, and that odd boatload drew away from the Lilith. They had gone about ten feet when poor old George slipped out from under Minot and leaped to his feet. Hey, Tremor, it's me, it's George,

he thrundered in a startlingly loud tone. Minot put his hand over George's lips, and they locked in conflict. The small launch danced wildly on the waters, and fortunately for Minot's plans, the moon still hid behind the clouds. With a stretch of Tarragona's rank of vegetation between them and the Lilith, Mr. Paddock stopped the engine, and they stood still in the dark waters.

Paddock lighted a cigarette, utilizing the same match to consult his watch. Ten o'clock, he said. I can't say this is the jolliest little party I was ever on. Never mind, replied Minot cheerfully. It won't take Trimmer fifteen minutes to find that his proposition isn't on board. In twenty minutes, we'll slip back and look for the signal. The proposition in question sat up and straightened his collar.

The pay-tar and I split, he said, over the matter of my going to Oxford. The old boy knew best. I wish now I'd gone. Then I might have words to tell you chaps that I think this is a damnable outrage. Minoan Paddock sat in silence.

I've been in America twenty-odd years, the proposition went on, seen all sorts of injustice and wrong, but I've lived to experience the climax myself. Still silence from his captors, while the black water swished about the launch. I take it you chaps believe me to be an imposter, just as Alan does.

Well, I'm not. And I'm going to give you my little talk on the old days at Rakedale Hall. When I've finished... No, you're not, said Minot. I heard all that once. And you weren't convinced?

Why, everybody in San Marco was convinced. The mayor, the chief of police, the... My dear George, said Minot with feeling, it doesn't make the slightest difference who you are. You and Trimmer stay separated until after next Tuesday. Yes, and rank injustice it is too. We'll have the law on you for this. We'll send you all to prison. Pleasant thought, commented

Paddock. Mrs. Bruce would have to develop lockjaw at the height of the social season. Oh, the devil! I'd better be thinking about that luncheon. All thought. All sat there silent. the black waters became a little rougher on their surface small flecks of white began to appear minot looked up at the dark sky twenty-two after said paddock finally and turned towards the engine heaven grant that red light is on view this is getting on my nerves slyly the little launch poked its nose around the corner of the island and peeped at the majestic lilith paddock snorted not a trace of it i must have underestimated the time said minot what's that that that's only thunder whoa this is going to be a pretty party Suddenly the heavens blazed with lightning. The swell of the waters increased.

Hastily Paddock backed the boat from the range of the Lilith's vision. Tremor must go soon, cried Minot. Fifteen minutes passed in eloquent silence. The lightning and the thunder continued. Try it again, Minot suggested. Again they peeped. And still no red light on the Lilith.

And even as they looked, out of the black heaven swept a sheet of stinging rain. It lashed down on that frail, tossing boat with cruel force. It obscured the Lilith, the island, everything but the fact of its own damp existence. In two seconds, the men unprotected in that tiny launch were pitiful, dripping figures, and the glory of Mr. Paddock's evening clothes departed, never to return.

A fortune teller in Albuquerque, said poor old George, told me I was to die of pneumonia. It'll be murder, gentlemen, plain murder. It's suicide, too, isn't it? snarled Paddock. that ought to satisfy you. I'm sorry, said Minot through chattering teeth. No answer. The downfall continued. The rain is raining everywhere, quoted Paddock gloomily. It falls

on the umbrellas here and on the ships at sea. Damn the ships at sea. Here, here, said poor old George. A damp, doleful pause. Greater love hath no man than this that he lay down his life for a friend, continued Paddock presently. A thousand apologies, Minot said, but I'm running the same chances, Jack. Yes, but it's your party, your happy little party, replied Paddock, not mine. Minot did not answer. He was as miserable as the others, and he could scarcely blame his friend

for losing temporarily his good nature. It's after eleven, said Paddock after another long pause. Put in closer to the Lilith, suggested Minot. Mr. Paddock fumbled about beneath the canvas cover of the engine, and they put in. But still no red light aboard the yacht. I'd give a thousand dollars, said Paddock, to know what's going on aboard that boat.

The knowledge would hardly have been worth the price he offered. Aboard the Lilith, on the forward deck under a protecting awning, Mr. Trimmer sat firmly planted in a chair. Beside him, in other chairs, sat three prominent citizens of San Marco, one of them the chief of police.

Mr. Martin Wall was madly walking the deck nearby. Going to stay here all night, he demanded at last. All night and all day tomorrow, replied Mr. Trimmer, if necessary. We're going to stay here until that boat that's carrying Lord Harrabee comes back. You can't fool Henry Trimmer.

There isn't any such boat, flared Martin Wall. Tell it to the Marines, remarked Trimmer, lighting a fresh cigar. Just as well that the three shivering figures huddled on the launch in the heaving bosom of the waters could not see this picture. Mr. Wall looked out at the rain, and shivered himself. Eleven-thirty came, and twelve.

Two matches from Mr. Paddock's door went to the discovery of these sad facts. Soaked to the skin, glum, silent, the three on the water sat staring at the unresponsive Lilith. The rain was falling now in a fine drizzle. I suppose, Paddock remarked, we stay here until morning. We might try landing on Tarragona, said Minot.

We might try jumping into the ocean, too, responded Paddock through chattering teeth. Murder, droned poor old George. That's what it'll be. At one o'clock, the three wet watchers beheld unusual things. Smoke began to belch from the lullest funnels. Her siren sounded.

She's steaming out, cried Minot. She's steaming out to sea. and sure enough the graceful yacht began to move out past tarragona island out towards the open sea once more paddock started his faithful engine and hallooing madly the three sat out in pursuit not yet had the lillies struck its gate and in fifteen minutes they were alongside Martin Wall, beholding them from the deck, had a rather unexpected attack of pity, and stopped his engines. The three limp watchers were taken aboard.

What does this mean? chattered Minot. You poor devils, said Martin Wall. Come and have a drink. Mean, he poured. It means that the only way I could get rid of our friend Tremor was to set out for New York. For New York, cried Minot, standing glass in hand. Yes, came on board, Tremor did, searched the boat, and then declared I'd shipped George away until his visit should be over.

So he and his friends, one of them the chief of police, by the way, sat down to wait for your return. Dad, I thought of you out in that rain. Sat and sat and sat. What could I do? To Tremor, the brute, said Paddock, raising his glass. Finally, I had an idea. I had the boys pull up the anchor and start the engines. trimmer wanted to know the answer leaving for new york to-night i said want to come along he wasn't sure whether he would go or not but his friends were sure they wouldn't

put up an awful howl and just before we got under way mr trimmer and party crawled into their rowboat and splashed back to san marco well what now asked minot i've made up my mind said wall been intending to go back north for some time and now that i've started i guess i'll keep on moving splendid cried minot and you'll take mr george harrowby with you mr wall seemed in excellent spirits he slapped minot on the back if you say so of course don't know exactly what they can do to us but i think george needs to see air how about it your lordship Poor old George, drooping as he had never drooped before, looked wearily into Wall's eyes. What's the use, he said. Fights all gone out of me. Losing interest in what's next. Three hours in that blooming ocean with the rain soaking in, I'm going to bed. I don't care what

becomes of me. And he sloshed away to his cabin. Well, boys, I'm afraid we'll have to put you off, said Martin Wall. Glad to have met both of you. Sometime in New York we may run into each other again. He shook hands genially, and the two young men dropped once more into that unhappy launch. As they sped towards the shore, the Lilith, behind them, was heading for the open sea. Sorry if I've seemed to have a grouch tonight, said Paddock as they walked up the deserted avenue

toward the hotel. But these Florida rainstorms aren't the pleasantest things to wear next to one's skin. I apologize, Dick. Nonsense, Minot answered. Old Job himself would have frowned a bit if he'd been through what you have tonight? It was my fault for getting you into it. Forget it, Paddock said. Well, it looks like a wedding, old man. The letters home again, and George Harrow be heading for New York. A three-day trip. Nothing to hinder now.

Have you thought of that? I don't want to think, said Minot gloomily. Good night, old man. Paddock sped up the stairs to his room, which was on the second floor, and Minot turned toward the elevator. At that moment, he saw approaching him through the deserted lobby, Mr. Jim O'Malley, the house detective of the De La Pas. Can we see you a minute in the office, Mr. Minot? he asked. Certainly, Minot answered. But I'm soaked through,

was out in all that rain. Too bad, said O'Malley with a sympathetic glance. We won't keep you but a minute. He led the way, and wondering, Minot followed. In the tiny office of the hotel manager, a bullet-headed man stood waiting. My friend, Mr. Huntley, of the Secret Service, O'Malley explained. Awfully sorry that this should happen, Mr. Minot, but we gotta search you. Search me? For what? Minot cried. And in a flash he knew. Through that wild night he had not once

thought of it, but it was still in his inside coat pocket, of course. Chained Lightning's collar. What does this mean? he asked. That's what they all say, grunted Huntley. Come here, my boy. Say, you're pretty wet and shivering.

Better have a warm bath and a drink. Turn around, please. Ah! With practiced fingers, the detective explored rapidly Mr. Minot's person and pockets. The victim of the search stood limp, helpless.

What could he do? There was no escape. It was all up now. For whatever reason they desired Chain Lightning's collar, they could not fail to have it in another minute. Side pockets, trouser pockets, now the inner coat

pocket. Its contents were in the detective's hand. Manot stared down. A little gasp escaped him. The envelope that held Chain Lightning's collar was not among them. Two minutes longer Huntley pursued, then with an oath of disappointment, he turned to O'Malley. Hasn't got it, he announced. Minot swept aside the profuse apologies of the hotel detective and somehow got out of the room.

In a daze, he sought 389. He didn't have it. Didn't have Jane Lightning's collar? Who did? It was while he sat steaming in a hot bath that an idea came to him.

The struggle on the deck of the Lilith, with Martin Wall panting at his side. The tug on his coat as they all went down together. The genial spirits of Wall thereafter. The sudden start for New York! No question about it!

Chain Lightning's collar was well out at sea now! And yet, why had Wall stopped to take the occupants of the launch aboard? After his bath, Manot donned pajamas and a dressing gown, and ventured out to find Lord Harrowby's suite. With difficulty, he succeeded in arousing the sleeping peer.

Harrowby let him in, and then sat down on his bed and stared at him. What is it? he inquired sleepily. Briefly, Minot told him of the circumstances preceding the start of the Lilith for New York, of his return to the hotel, and the search party he encountered there. Haraby was very wide awake by this time.

That finishes us, he groaned. Wait a minute, Minot said. They didn't find the necklace. I didn't have it. I lost it. Lost it? Yes. And if you want my opinion, I think Martin Wall stole it from me on the Lilith and is now on his way. harrowby leaped from bed and seized minot gleefully by the hand dear old chap what the deuce do i care who took it it's gone thank god it's gone but i don't understand no but you can understand this much everything's all right nothing in the way of the wedding now it's splendid splendid

but the knuckles was stolen yes good very good my dear minot the luckiest thing that can happen to us will be never never to see chain lightning's collar again as completely at sea as he had been that night which was more or less at sea minot returned to his room it was after three o'clock he turned out his lights and sought his bed many wild conjectures kept him awake at first but this had been the busiest day of his life soon he slept and dreamed thrilling dreams The sun was bright outside his windows when he was aroused by a knock. What is it? he cried. A package for you, sir, said a bellboy voice.

He slipped one arm outside his door to receive it. A neat little bundle, securely tied with his name written on the wrappings. Sleepily he undid the cord and took out an envelope. He was no longer sleepy. He held the envelope open over his bed.

Chain Lightning's collar tumbled gleaming upon the white sheet. also in the package was a note which minot read breathlessly dear mr minot i have decided not to go north after all and am back in the harbor with the lilith as i expect tremor at any moment i have sent george over to tarragona island in charge of two sailor men for the day cordially martin wall p s you dropped the enclosed in the scuffle on the boat last night chapter thirteen recording by todd Thank you.