The Girl on the Boat

  CHAPTER XIII

  SHOCKS ALL ROUND

  Billie had been standing near the wall, inspecting a portrait of thelate Mr. Josiah Appleby, of which the kindest thing one can say is thatone hopes it did not do him justice. She now shrank back against thiswall, as if she were trying to get through it. The edge of theportrait's frame tilted her hat out of the straight, but in this suprememoment she did not even notice it.

  "Er--how do you do?" she said.

  If she had not been an exceedingly pretty girl, one would have said thatshe spoke squeakily. The fighting spirit of the Bennetts, though it wasconsiderable fighting spirit, had not risen to this emergency. It hadebbed out of her, leaving in its place a cold panic. She had seen thissort of thing in the movies--there was one series of pictures, "TheDangers of Diana," where something of the kind had happened to theheroine in every reel--but she had not anticipated that it would everhappen to her; and consequently she had not thought out any plan forcoping with such a situation. A grave error. In this world one should beprepared for everything, or where is one?

  "I've brought the revolver," said Mr. Peters.

  "So--so I see!" said Billie.

  Mr. Peters nursed the weapon affectionately in his hand. He was rather ashy man with women as a rule, but what Sam had told him about her beinginterested in his revolver had made his heart warm to this girl.

  "I was just on my way to have a little practice at the range," he said."Then I thought I might as well look in here."

  "I suppose--I suppose you're a good shot?" quavered Billie.

  "I seldom miss," said Jno. Peters.

  Billie shuddered. Then, reflecting that the longer she engaged thismaniac in conversation, the more hope there was of Sam coming back intime to save her, she essayed further small-talk.

  "It's--it's very ugly!"

  "Oh, no!" said Mr. Peters, hurt.

  Billie perceived that she had said the wrong thing.

  "Very deadly-looking, I meant," she corrected herself hastily.

  "It may have deadly work to do, Miss Milliken," said Mr. Peters.

  Conversation languished again. Billie had no further remarks to make ofimmediate interest, and Mr. Peters was struggling with a return of thedeplorable shyness which so handicapped him in his dealings with theother sex. After a few moments, he pulled himself together again, and,as his first act was to replace the pistol in the pocket of his coat,Billie became conscious of a faint stirring of relief.

  "The great thing," said Jno. Peters, "is to learn to draw quickly. Likethis!" he added producing the revolver with something of the smoothnessand rapidity with which Billie, in happier moments, had seen BreamMortimer take a bowl of gold fish out of a tall hat. "Everything dependson getting the first shot! The first shot, Miss Milliken, is vital."

  Suddenly Billie had an inspiration. It was hopeless, she knew, to try toconvince this poor demented creature, obsessed with his _idee fixe_,that she was not Miss Milliken. Denial would be a waste of time, andmight even infuriate him into precipitating the tragedy. It wasimperative that she should humour him. And, while she was humouring him,it suddenly occurred to her, why not do it thoroughly?

  "Mr. Peters," she cried, "you are quite mistaken!"

  "I beg your pardon," said Jno. Peters, with not a little asperity."Nothing of the kind!"

  "You are!"

  "I assure you I am not. Quickness in the draw is essential...."

  "You have been misinformed."

  "Well, I had it direct from the man at the Rupert Street range," saidMr. Peters stiffly. "And if you have ever seen a picture called 'Two-GunThomas'...."

  "Mr. Peters," cried Billie desperately. He was making her head swim withhis meaningless ravings. "Mr. Peters, hear me! I am not married to a manat Ealing West!"

  Mr. Peters betrayed no excitement at the information. This girl seemedfor some reason to consider her situation an extraordinary one, but manywomen, he was aware, were in a similar position. In fact, he could notat the moment think of any of his feminine acquaintances who _were_married to men at Ealing West.

  "Indeed?" he said politely.

  "Won't you believe me?" exclaimed Billie wildly.

  "Why, certainly, certainly," said Jno. Peters.

  "Thank God!" said Billie. "I'm not even engaged! It's all been aterrible mistake!"

  When two people in a small room are speaking on two distinct anddifferent subjects and neither knows what on earth the other is drivingat, there is bound to be a certain amount of mental confusion; but atthis point Jno. Peters, though still not wholly equal to theintellectual pressure of the conversation, began to see a faint shimmerof light behind the clouds. In a nebulous kind of way he began tounderstand that the girl had come to consult the firm about abreach-of-promise action. Some unknown man at Ealing West had beentrifling with her heart--hardened lawyer's clerk as he was, thatpoignant cry "I'm not even engaged!" had touched Mr. Peters--and shewished to start proceedings. Mr. Peters felt almost in his depth again.He put the revolver in his pocket, and drew out a note-book.

  "I should be glad to hear the facts," he said with professionalcourtesy. "In the absence of the guv'nor...."

  "I have told you the facts!"

  "This man at Ealing West," said Mr. Peters, moistening the point of hispencil, "he wrote you letters proposing marriage?"

  "No, no, no!"

  "At any rate," said Mr. Peters, disappointed but hopeful, "he made loveto you before witnesses?"

  "Never! Never! There is no man at Ealing West! There never was a man atEaling West!"

  It was at this point that Jno. Peters began for the first time toentertain serious doubts of the girl's mental balance. The mostelementary acquaintance with the latest census told him that there wereany number of men at Ealing West. The place was full of them. Would asane woman have made an assertion to the contrary? He thought not, andhe was glad that he had the revolver with him. She had done nothing asyet actively violent, but it was nice to feel prepared. He took it outand laid it nonchalantly in his lap.

  The sight of the weapon acted on Billie electrically. She flung out herhands, in a gesture of passionate appeal, and played her last card.

  "I love _you_!" she cried. She wished she could have remembered hisfirst name. It would have rounded off the sentence neatly. In such amoment she could hardly call him "Mr. Peters." "You are the only man Ilove."

  "My gracious goodness!" ejaculated Mr. Peters, and nearly fell overbackwards. To a naturally shy man this sudden and wholly unexpecteddeclaration was disconcerting; and the clerk was, moreover, engaged. Heblushed violently. And yet, even in that moment of consternation, hecould not check a certain thrill. No man thinks he is as plain as hereally is, but Jno. Peters had always come fairly near to a correctestimate of his charms, and it had always seemed to him, that, ininducing his fiancee to accept him, he had gone some. He now began towonder if he were not really rather a devil of a chap after all. Theremust be precious few men going about capable of inspiring devotion likethis on the strength of about six and a half minutes casualconversation.

  Calmer thoughts succeeded this little flicker of complacency. The girlwas mad. That was the fact of the matter. He got up and began to edgetowards the door. Mr. Samuel would be returning shortly, and he ought tobe warned.

  "So that's all right, isn't it!" said Billie.

  "Oh, quite, quite!" said Mr. Peters. "Er--Thank you very much!"

  "I thought you would be pleased," said Billie, relieved but puzzled. Fora man of volcanic passions, as Sam Marlowe had described him, he seemedto be taking the thing very calmly. She had anticipated a strenuousscene.

  "Oh, it's a great compliment!" Mr. Peters assured her.

  At this point Sam came in, interrupting the conversation at a momentwhen it had reached a somewhat difficult stage. He had finished theinstalment of the serial story in _Home Whispers_, and, looking at hiswatch, he fancied that he had allowed sufficient time to elapse forevents to have matured along the lines which his imagination hadindicated.


  The atmosphere of the room seemed to him, as he entered, a littlestrained. Billie looked pale and agitated. Mr. Peters looked ratheragitated, too. Sam caught Billie's eye. It had an unspoken appeal in it.He gave an imperceptible nod, a reassuring nod, the nod of a man whounderstood all and was prepared to handle the situation.

  "Come, Peters," he said in a deep, firm, quiet voice, laying a hand onthe clerk's arm. "It's time that you went."

  "Yes, indeed, Mr. Samuel! Yes, yes, indeed!"

  "I'll see you out," said Sam soothingly, and led him through the outeroffice and on to the landing outside. "Well, good luck, Peters," hesaid, as they stood at the head of the stairs. "I hope you have apleasant trip. Why, what's the matter? You seem upset."

  "That girl, Mr. Samuel! I really think--really, she cannot be quiteright in her head."

  "Nonsense, nonsense!" said Sam firmly. "She's all right! Well,good-bye."

  "Good-bye, Mr. Samuel."

  "When did you say you were sailing?"

  "Next Saturday, Mr. Samuel. But I fear I shall have no opportunity ofseeing you again before then. I have packing to do and I have to seethis gentleman down in the country...."

  "All right. Then we'll say good-bye now. Good-bye, Peters. Mind you havea good time in America. I'll tell my father you called."

  Sam watched him out of sight down the stairs, then turned and made hisway back to the inner office. Billie was sitting limply on the chairwhich Jno. Peters had occupied. She sprang to her feet.

  "Has he really gone?"

  "Yes. He's gone this time."

  "Was he--was he violent?"

  "A little," said Sam. "A little. But I calmed him down." He looked ather gravely. "Thank God I was in time!"

  "Oh, you are the bravest man in the world!" cried Billie, and, buryingher face in her hands, burst into tears.

  "There, there!" said Sam. "There, there! Come, come! It's all right now!There, there, there!"

  He knelt down beside her. He slipped one arm round her waist. He pattedher hands.

  "There, there, there!" he said.

  I have tried to draw Samuel Marlowe so that he will live on the printedpage. I have endeavoured to delineate his character so that it will beas an open book. And, if I have succeeded in my task, the reader will bynow have become aware that he was a young man with the gall of an Armymule. His conscience, if he had ever had one, had become atrophiedthrough long disuse. He had given this sensitive girl the worst frightshe had had since a mouse had got into her bedroom at school. He hadcaused Jno. Peters to totter off to the Rupert Street range making low,bleating noises. And did he care? No! All he cared about was the factthat he had erased for ever from Billie's mind that undignified pictureof himself as he had appeared on the boat, and substituted another whichshowed him brave, resourceful, gallant. All he cared about was the factthat Billie, so cold ten minutes before, had just allowed him to kissher for the forty-second time. If you had asked him, he would have saidthat he had acted for the best, and that out of evil cometh good, orsome sickening thing like that. That was the sort of man Samuel Marlowewas.

  His face was very close to Billie's, who had cheered up wonderfully bythis time, and he was whispering his degraded words of endearment intoher ear, when there was a sort of explosion in the doorway.

  "Great Godfrey!" exclaimed Mr. Rufus Bennett, gazing on the scene fromthis point of vantage and mopping with a large handkerchief a scarletface, which, as the result of climbing three flights of stairs, hadbecome slightly soluble. "Great Heavens above! Number four!"