CHAPTER III

  Signing On

  For some minutes "Joystick" remained silent, enjoying the obviousastonishment of the trio.

  "You need not introduce yourselves," he continued. "You are RobertBeverley; you are Jack Villiers, and you are Alec Claverhouse--Ipresume you pronounce your name in Scots' fashion."

  "You are a veritable Sherlock Holmes," declared Villiers.

  The other raised a hand deprecatingly.

  "I cannot aspire to that degree of intelligence," he remarked. "So,to remove misunderstandings, I will explain. You said you had anappointment at Southampton at three. I mentioned RichboroughChambers, and then you asked if I knew 'Joystick'. Amongst manyapplications for an interview I had a joint letter signed by youthree fellows. I heard Beverley called by name. That accounted forone of you, and left two--Villiers and Claverhouse. One looked like anaval man, the other did not, but he had an accent that hails fromnorth of the Tweed. Simple, eh? and, by the by, since I know yournames, there is no reason why I should screen myself under anom-de-plume or nom-de-guerre, or whatever you like to call it. I'mcalled Harborough--Hugh Harborough."

  "Late Lieutenant-Commander, R.N.V.R.?" asked Villiers.

  "Correct," was the reply.

  "And Sir Hugh Harborough," continued Jack.

  "I believe I have a handle to my name," replied the baronet, smiling."However, that's a detail. I didn't ask for it. A fellow cannot beresponsible for the deeds: or misdeeds of hisgreat-great-grandfather."

  "That excuse cannot apply to your D.S.O.," urged Villiers, followingup his attack.

  It was Sir Hugh's turn to look astonished.

  "How do you know that?" he asked.

  "Merely because I happened to know a fellow in the Inchlellan Patrolwho had been transferred from Poldene. He knew you. Carruthers is hisname."

  "Good man, Carruthers," exclaimed Sir Hugh. "I'd like to meet himagain. But this isn't Southampton. What do you say to an alterationof plan? Come back to 'Thalassa Towers' and have lunch with me. Then,if you don't mind running me into Southampton, I can interview somemore fellows at 3.30. It's only a matter of eight and a half miles tomy place."

  It was Alec Claverhouse who was the first to agree to the revisedprogramme, and since he was in charge of the "Odouresque" Company'scar it was only right that he should take the responsibility ofdelaying its return. Provided the car was returned to the works andreported "passed for road work" by three o'clock there would be nocause for anxiety on the part of the officials of the company.

  "Any objection to a speed burst, Sir Hugh?" he asked.

  "None whatever," was the reply. "What'll she do?"

  For answer Alec let the car all out. She was soon doing seventy-five,while Beverley, on the twin "Mephisto" was almost out of sight farastern. But Beverley was cautious in most things, and on a strangemount he did not feel inclined to give the engine full throttle.

  "To the left at the fork roads," cautioned the baronet. "Hadn't youbetter let Beverley reduce station a bit? No, I don't think thefootpads will molest him. It was this they were after, I fancy."

  And he tapped the attach?-case at his side.

  A quarter of an hour later the "Odouresque" was sweeping along theextensive drive leading to Thalassa Towers, with the "Mephisto" fiftyyards behind.

  "Make yourselves at home, and please drop all formality," said thebaronet. "This isn't a Service stunt, and personally I'm dead set onred tape. Had quite enough of that the last four years. 'Fraid theplace is rather in a muddle. You see, I only succeeded to the titlein '15, when my elder brother went under at Ypres, and I haven'tspent much time at the old show since."

  "I like his idea of a muddle," thought Beverley, as a well-servedlunch was being quickly provided, although at short notice. Thereseemed an abundance of servants, and, what was somewhat remarkable,there was a large touring-car and a light run-about in the garage.Why then did Sir Hugh risk his neck on a motor-cycle?

  Harborough personally led the way to a bath-room, and then, excusinghimself, disappeared for a few minutes to return divested of hismackintosh overalls.

  He was of average build, bronzed complexion, with heavy jaw and cheekbones. His eyebrows were thick and bushy, extending in an almostcontinuous straight line below a forehead of medium height. Hisiron-grey hair was close-cropped and grew low on his temples. When hesmiled, which was rarely, a double row of even white teeth rathertoned down an otherwise blunt, determined, and somewhatreckless-looking face.

  Instinctively the three chums felt that Sir Hugh was "sizing them up"before broaching the important subject. He put them entirely at theirease, chatting casually on common-place subjects during lunch, butthe while there was the feeling that every question he asked, howeversimple, was with the object of plumbing the minds of his guests.

  Villiers tried to "draw him" on the matter of the idle motor-cars,but the baronet avoided the subject adroitly yet without anysuspicion of awkwardness, and the conversation drifted through themerits of No. 6 shot for rabbit-shooting and the prospects of nextyear's yachting to a discussion on heavier versus lighter-than-airmachines.

  "Suppose we make tracks for the smoking-room?" suggested Sir Hugh,when lunch was finished.

  The smoking-room was cosily furnished in old oak, and like the restof the rooms on the ground floor the windows were heavily barred.There were also steel shutters, opening and folding inwards againstthe sides of the deep window-recesses. Both bars and shutters wereunmistakably recent additions.

  The baronet motioned to his guests to seat themselves, and handedcigarettes. Then placing the attach?-case on the table he took uphis position on the hearthrug, leaning against the carvedmantelpiece.

  "Now to business," he began abruptly. "I'm not asking for recruitsfor a filibustering expedition, piracy, or any of that sort of work.I'm taking on a speculative but above-board deal, which will involvehard work, peril, and perhaps losing the number of your mess. Ibelieve you, Claverhouse, would term the latter contingency 'GoingWest', but you know what I mean. Briefly, I hope to fish up a millionand a half in bullion and specie, the principal part of the cargo ofa ship sunk by von Spee's squadron somewhere in the Pacific. I knowwhere that somewhere is; the exact position is recorded in a documentlying in that attach?-case. Incidentally, I have good reason tobelieve that this morning's little affair was promoted by a cleverscoundrel who is particularly anxious to obtain the secret and to seeme safely out of the way. Those bars and shutters, which I noticedthat you were admiring just now, are part of the defensive scheme; soyou see, apart from the mere excitement of treasure-hunting, there isa subsidiary stratum of danger to add to the zest of theprospectors."

  "That sounds promising, Sir Hugh," observed Villiers.

  "And as to terms," continued the baronet. "Each member of theexpedition--I propose to bring up the number to fifteen oreighteen--will be required to contribute two hundred and fifty poundstowards the cost. I will find the balance. Meals and quarters will beprovided free, but there will be no guarantee that each member'scapital will be returned. It won't even be secured. If, as I expect,the venture is a success, half the profit will be divided between myassistants plus their two hundred and fifty pounds, while I have therest of the proceeds. Now, have you any remarks?"

  "Seems quite O.K.," replied Claverhouse. "After all's said, twohundred and fifty pounds isn't much for a twelvemonth's travel withboard and lodging thrown in, as we remarked when we saw youradvertisement."

  "There's more than that," said Sir Hugh. "The stake makes every mantake the keenest interest in the work. He realizes that it's up tohim to do his level best for his comrades and himself. I could, ofcourse, engage a professional crew, but nowadays one can't dependupon paid labour whether ashore or afloat. This railway strike, forexample, although the way the Government's tackling it was a completesurprise."

  "We volunteered," remarked Villiers, "either for road or marinetransport, but we were three amongst thousands and didn't have asniff in. Motor jobs all snapped up and only a f
ew fellows requiredfor marine work."

  "That's satisfactory from one point," said Harborough. "It shows thata considerable section of the community supposed to be relativelyhelpless can get a move on. The war has brought them out, as it were;helped them to find their feet. But that's where I was let down whenmy chauffeur struck suddenly. Driving a car isn't one of myaccomplishments."

  "We noticed you had a couple of cars," observed Beverley.

  "And wondered accordingly, I presume," added Sir Hugh drily. "Let meexplain. My chauffeur fellow wanted more pay, although I had raisedhis wages recently. Thought he had me under his thumb, so to speak,when the railway strike came, but I wasn't going to be bluffed. So hewent off at once, presumably to join the taxi-driver crush in town.He'd make a fine brigand. I can drive a four-in-hand with credit.Took on the job of driving a stage-coach in Winnipeg fifteen yearsago, and was glad to get four dollars a day for doing it. So you see,I've had my ups and downs in life, and I'm not sorry. Since Icouldn't drive the car and there was no one on the spot to drive forme, I sent my gardener boy into Farnham to bring back a motor-bike.The 'Mephisto' was the only one he could get, and a hundred guineasat that, but you see, I'm always particular to keep my appointments.I mustn't forget the one at Southampton at three-thirty," he added,glancing at his watch. "Now, have I made myself sufficiently clearfor the present? If you require time to think the proposition over,there is no immediate hurry for a day or so--say Monday morning."

  "I'm on it," declared the impulsive Villiers.

  "And I," added the hitherto deliberate Claverhouse.

  Bobby Beverley hesitated.

  "Out with it, man," exclaimed Harborough encouragingly. "Nothing likespeaking your mind. What's the difficulty? Anything of a privatenature?"

  "Not at all, Sir Hugh," replied Beverley, flushing slightly under histan. "I'd like to come, only----"

  The baronet guessed the nature of the impediment. He was right, buthe was too keen a judge of human nature to prompt the stillhesitating youth.

  "It's like this," resumed Bobby, plunging into details. "I can't verywell raise that two hundred and fifty pounds without getting credit.I've a young brother to look after."

  "How old?" inquired Harborough.

  "Fifteen this month."

  "H'm, beginning to think what he wants to be," commented the baronet."What are you doing with him?"

  "He's at boarding-school," answered Bobby. "I think he'll go in formotor-engineering. He wanted to have a shot for Sandhurst, but,unless something turns up, I can't run to it."

  "Nothing like the Service for a healthy youngster, provided he'skeen," commented Sir Hugh. "Wish I'd gone in for Osborne when I was alad. Instead of that I got out of hand, and my governor packed me offto Canada to find my feet. I did," he added grimly.

  The baronet glanced at his watch again, and then addressed Villiers.

  "Can you drive a car?" he asked. "You can--good. Will you minddriving me in? Claverhouse can take his, and then I'll have somethingto get home in. Excuse me a moment while I get my gear."

  He went out, taking the attach?-case with him. Villiers turned tohis companions.

  "Wonder if he's fixed up for the return journey?" he remarked."Bobby, you thundering old ox, why the blazing Harry did you hedge?I'd have advanced you the ready like a shot."

  "I know, old man," replied Beverley. "I'd jump at it, but there'sDick. I'm a non-starter."

  "Tell you what----" began Villiers.

  He got no further, for at that instant the door opened and Harboroughappeared.

  "Can you spare me a minute, Beverley?" he asked.

  Beverley went out. His chums exchanged glances.

  "It's a deal after all, old bean," remarked Claverhouse.

  Bobby was absent not one but a good ten minutes. He returned with aradiant face, following the self-possessed Sir Hugh.

  "Beverley has signed on," announced the baronet briefly.

 
Percy F. Westerman's Novels