She slipped hurriedly into her one little evening gown, put the manuscript into her new bag, stuffed a soft little silk shawl on top of it, with a magazine sticking out behind it and was ready to go. The shawl was green, with long silk fringe. It was the one beautiful relic of her childhood, a gift her father had brought her from China while she was still in school. The fringe hung carelessly out and made a lovely touch of color in her somber outfit. She slung the bag over her arm and went out on deck for a few minutes as if she were going to read, and so sauntered into the dining room quite naturally, carrying her new bag. No one would suspect she carried a treasure that she was afraid to leave behind her.
She held it in her lap during the meal, in constant fear it would slide off to the floor, but greatly assured to have the precious book where she could touch it all the time.
Sitting there at the table with the voices of friendly people all around her, and her special aversion sitting diagonally across from her eating his dinner like any sane Christian, Kerry reflected that she had been very silly and foolishly frightened, to spend her money for the bag. It was absurd in the extreme for her to imagine that man wanted her book, or had any dishonest intentions against her. Probably that missing page was even now lying under her trunk, or perhaps a whimsical wind had fluttered it out of her porthole and it was swashing about somewhere in the ocean right now. Probably Professor Dawson, PhD, had only kind intentions after all when he offered so assiduously to help her with her father’s book. At most he was only seeking a little fame; he wanted to be able to say, “I helped compile that book! I was associated,” etc. Well, at least she was glad that she had taken the safer course, for she never could have made herself sit through a meal and act like other people if she had left it behind her. And absurd or not she was going to enjoy that lovely bag! It was the first pretty thing she ever remembered to have bought for herself.
“Oh, thank you, no. I can carry the bag. It is only a light little thing,” she found herself saying to McNair as he helped her up the companionway and asked her to walk awhile on the deck.
She slipped her hand deftly through the soft straps, tucked the bag under her arm, and flung the green shawl around her shoulders. The long fringe hung down and the bag was out of sight.
They walked the deck together for a while, watching the dying colors on the water as they had done the night before, and Kerry felt again that peace that had possessed her in the young man’s company.
She longed to ask him some questions, yet dared not break the sweet quietness of their friendliness. At last, as the same star burned out again she said shyly, “I wish you would tell me what you meant last night, about the silver trumpet. I’ve been puzzling all day to know about it. Was it real, or was it some book you have been reading, a poem perhaps? I may be stupid. I haven’t read much of the modern literature.”
He looked down at her and smiled, and even in the dusky twilight she thought she saw a light of eagerness in his eyes.
“Yes, it’s real!” he said. “The realest thing there is in the world. But it’s a book, too. Wait! Let us go over there and sit down where we shall not be interrupted, and I’ll tell you all about it. But—” And he looked down at her critically. “You’re not warmly enough dressed for sitting out here. The wind is coming up. Wait! I’ll get you some blankets! But no, suppose you come with me. I’m afraid your friend might spirit you away before we have our talk.”
“My friend?” she questioned with a look of annoyance in her eyes. “I have no friends on board.”
“You’re mistaken,” said McNair, smiling. “You have one at least in myself. But isn’t Dawson your friend? He gave me to understand that he was quite an intimate of the family, and closely associated with your father in his work.”
“I never heard of him before,” said Kerry earnestly. “I doubt if my father ever did. He usually talked to us of those he met. I never heard this man’s name, although that professor’s wife at the table told me that Mr. Dawson had written several scientific books, which had been favorably received. But he is not my friend. The fact is I have taken a most violent dislike to him, which of course is all wrong, and I’m struggling hard to forget it. But don’t call him my friend, please.”
“I’m greatly relieved,” laughed McNair, “I shan’t be afraid to monopolize you then as often as you will let me. Now, here we are, just wait a moment, and if Dawson turns up we’ll run and hide behind those life preservers.”
He laughingly unlocked a door, disappeared, and reappeared almost immediately with an armful of blankets, steering her back to the deck once more.
There was some kind of an entertainment going on in the cabin, and crowds were assembled there. McNair led her by a deserted way to a sheltered spot on the upper deck where they seemed to be alone with the stars. He produced a big soft coat of camel’s hair.
“Here, I brought this for you,” he said. “Put it on. Oh, I have another for myself.” He laughed as she lifted eyes of protest. “You’ll find it’s quite chilly when you have sat for a few minutes.”
He tucked her in with a blanket, and arranged a cushion at her back. She wondered where he found all these comforts so easily, as if he had prepared for the necessity.
It was wonderful up there among the stars. For a few moments they sat and looked.
At last he spoke.
“Where do you want me to begin?”
“At the beginning,” said Kerry. “I want to understand it all.”
“‘In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth!’” quoted McNair solemnly, and somehow the words seemed to bring a new meaning as he spoke them up there under the circle of the heavens.
“You believe the Bible then?” questioned Kerry. “My father thought, that is he sometimes said, that the Bible account of creation might be true only it did not seem to make the world old enough.” There was a wistfulness in her tone as she went on. “But how do you explain the strange animals that have been buried ages ago, the deposits of rock that show the world must have been thousands and thousands of years in the making?”
“There is room for all that between the first and second verses of Genesis,” said the young man confidently. “Are you familiar with the words?”
“I’m afraid not,” said Kerry. “I’ve never read it much. Of course we read it some in school at morning devotions.”
“Then I’ll repeat it. The first verse is, ‘In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth out of nothing.’ In the beginning God made the heavens and the earth out of nothing. But we do not know how long ago that was. It may have been ages upon ages ago. It probably was. God has said nothing about the time. But the next verse goes on to say—‘And the earth was without form and void,’ but a more accurate translation of the original Hebrew would be: ‘and the earth became without form and void.’ It became shapeless and empty. A great cataclysm destroyed the first creation. You will find reference to it in Isaiah and Jeremiah, and the New Testament refers to it as a fact of which people are ‘willingly ignorant.’”
“How strange!” said Kerry in a tone of deep interest. “I never heard of it before. Do you mean it is a new theory? A new interpretation?”
“Not at all!” said McNair quickly, “no man has a right to a theory about God, or about what He has said. And we are told that no scripture is of ‘private interpretation.’ It is to be understood only by comparing scripture with scripture. When anything in the Bible is put to that test there is no doubt of its meaning. I could make this clearer to you in the daytime when I could show you the verses in the Bible. Would you like to come up here tomorrow morning sometime and go into it thoroughly?”
“I certainly would,” said Kerry eagerly, “it sounds fascinating. My father, of course, knew Hebrew and Greek, but he never had much time to look into things like this, though he used to say that he thought the Bible was the most beautiful book in the world, and he wished he had more time to read it. He read it quite a few times the last weeks before he d
ied. He said it rested him. But tell me, what has this to do with what you were talking about last night? You spoke of a silver trumpet, and of Christ coming back to earth again, if I understood you right. What could that possibly have to do with the creation of the universe ages ago before Christ was ever born? He wasn’t there at creation.”
“Oh, but there you are mistaken,” said the quiet assured voice. “He was there. ‘In the beginning God created—’ The Hebrew word used for God in that first verse of Genesis is in the plural and means not God a single person, but the Godhead, the Triune God, the Father, the Son, and Holy Spirit. That brings us face-to-face with the mystery of the Godhead of course. But over in the book of John, in the first verse we read: ‘In the beginning was the Word—Word in the original Greek signifies the Messiah—and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by Him, and without Him was not anything made that was made.’”
“What!” said Kerry, “do you mean that Jesus made the world?”
“He certainly did.”
“But He was not born yet.”
“Not in His human form. But He always existed, and scripture distinctly says that He was there when the worlds were made and He created them. Jesus is God made human, that He might take man’s debt of sin upon Himself. Don’t you understand?”
“I’m afraid I don’t,” said Kerry solemnly, “I never heard anything like this before. It does not sound like any creed I ever heard of before.”
“It is not a creed. It is simply God’s Word.”
“Go on, please, tell me about His coming again. I know of course in general that He was supposed to have been born on the earth, that He lived a beautiful life, and that He died on the cross presumably for the sins of the world, but I never heard that anybody believed He was coming again. Is it unique to a few people? Is it something new?”
“No. The Church throughout the ages has believed it but strangely enough has not given much heed to it for centuries. Yet it is mentioned in the New Testament more often than any other doctrine. Christ Himself promised it before He left the earth. The angels stated it as a fact to comfort His sorrowing disciples while they watched Him ascend into heaven. There are many promises of great blessing to those who are watching and waiting for His coming. In fact, He Himself, when He established the Lord’s Supper, said that His people were to observe it as a memorial to Him ’till He come’!”
“That sounds very strange and wonderful,” said Kerry thoughtfully. “It would make life worth living if one could believe a thing like that. Even though everything were very hard, one could stand it, if there were something like that to look forward to. But what makes you think, even if it is true, that it might be soon? It is a great many years since the Bible was written. All those people died and never saw Him come back. Why is He any more likely to come now?”
“Because the things have happened that He said were to be the signs of His coming.”
“What things?”
“Events in Palestine; many things concerning the Jews; the talk of world peace; the rise of Rome into prominence once more; the League of Nations; and perhaps more than anything else the falling away of professing Christians from a firm belief in the Bible as the Word of God. Things in the moral, the intellectual, and even the physical world are all marching along just as prophecy foretold they would do in this age. It is a marvelous story. I would like an opportunity to tell it to you if you are interested, and to bring you into touch with the words in the Book.”
“It sounds marvelous,” said Kerry, “but it sounds fanciful. It seems too wonderful to be true. It is weird. It is uncanny, like science.”
“It is much more true than science,” said McNair reverently. “It never changes. This has been truth through the ages, made plain only as the knowledge was needed. God ordered that some of these prophecies should be sealed up until the time of the end, and then the wise should understand, but none of the unbelieving should understand!”
“Oh!” said Kerry softly. “That sounds—Why, I can see how that would be. That is like science, too. The wise understand, slowly, bit by bit—take electricity, for instance! But is it really accurate? Can you prove all this you have been telling me? Or have you just accepted some other person’s word about it? Excuse me, I do not mean to be rude. I really want to know.”
“I understand,” said McNair. “Yes, I know it to be true. Yes, I can prove it to you if you will give me opportunity, prove it to you from the Word of God. There is no other place to go. All other sources are shifting sands, one day standing on one theory, another day on another.”
Kerry was silent for a full minute, sitting thoughtfully looking at the stars.
“But about that silver trumpet,” she said softly, “was that real, too? And you haven’t told me why He is coming again and what is going to happen then.”
“Well, so this is where you have hidden yourselves away, is it?” said a hard nasal voice from the shadows behind them. “Nice night again in spite of all predictions, but I think it’ll rain before morning. I saw a cloud off on the horizon. This sort of thing never lasts at this time of year.”
McNair started up from his chair.
“Yes, and it is late. Miss Kavanaugh, I shouldn’t have kept you here all this time away from your friends.”
“It’s been wonderful up here,” said Kerry, beginning to shed her wrappings, and gripping her new bag furtively.
“What have you two found to talk about all this time up here away from everyone?” asked Dawson in a tone that seemed to mean geniality, though there was an underlying suspicion in the accents.
“Stars!” said Kerry joyously. “Aren’t they lovely! I’ve learned a lot about them, how they were made, and—other things. You ought to talk with Mr. McNair, Professor Dawson. He knows a lot of interesting things. But I’ll have to say good night now. I’m not supposed to stay up late on this voyage.”
McNair gathered up the blankets and followed her, and Dawson tagged along behind. Again he had succeeded only in dispersing the gathering. But he shut his lips grimly and watched them, a sinister gleam in his black eyes. He had been in his stateroom all the afternoon writing. Time would tell.
The first thing Kerry did when she was safely shut into her room was to unlock her trunk, undo that bundle of pictures, and rip open one of the magazine leaves to see if the notes were still there. They were all there. None of them seemed to have been disturbed.
But her old briefcase, in which she used to keep her papers and which she thought she had left strapped up and neatly stowed at the side of the wardrobe, was lying unstrapped on her bed. Did she or did she not put it away before she went to dinner?
Chapter 7
Graham McNair found Kerry on deck quite early the next morning. She was standing by herself, wrapped closely in her coat, her bright wool bag tucked under her arm. He noticed the trailing vivid threads of green silk fringe that had escaped from the top of the bag, the floating vivid wisp of red-gold hair that had escaped from her little brown hat, and the touch of colors pleased him. She looked like a picture with her delicate profile etched against the sea and sky, her bright hair blowing.
But when he came nearer he noticed a shadow in her eyes, something that he was sure had not been there the day before. Even the smile with which she greeted him had an absentminded air about it.
“You are worrying about something,” he stated intimately, after they had exchanged remarks about the morning.
She flashed him a quick comprehending look. “How did you know?”
He met her gaze with a fine understanding one.
“I know.” He smiled. “It is just written in your face, that is all. I wonder, if I could help at all?”
“Oh, my face!” said Kerry. “My father used to tell me that he could read me like a book. He tried so hard to train me not to herald all my feelings to the world. And I thought I was succeeding! Just see!”
McNair smiled down a
t her again.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “You succeed better than you realize. I haven’t been able to read you at all well until this morning when I caught you off your guard. In fact I’ve tried very hard to find out about one or two things, and I am just as much in the dark as when I came on shipboard.”
Kerry flashed him a glance of wondering interest.
“What could you possibly want to know about me that I’ve been so secretive about?” she challenged brightly.
“Well to begin with, I can’t quite make out your attitude toward Dawson. I wish I knew just what relation he sustains toward you, what interest he has in you. Please don’t think I’m trying to be impertinent. I had a reason for wishing to know.”
“I wish I knew!” said Kerry fervently, the troubled look coming into her eyes again. “I wonder—would it be wrong to ask advice of a stranger? You have been so kind—and seem so sane! I don’t like to burden others with my perplexities but—”
“It certainly would not be wrong!” said McNair eagerly. “I only wish you would let me help you if there is anything I can do. And please don’t count me a stranger. I thought we had got beyond that the last two evenings.” She flashed him a look of friendliness.
“Thank you,” she said, “I’ll think of you as a friend hereafter.”
“And please understand that whatever you say I shall regard in the strictest confidence, and afterward it shall be as if you had not spoken, if that is your wish.”
“Thank you, I know I can trust you,” she said gravely. “I was only not quite sure whether it was right for me to bother you. Very well, then, Mr. McNair, what would you do if you had lost a very important paper under circumstances that made you think that someone had entered your stateroom and taken it away?”
McNair gave her a quick, keen startled look before he answered. Then he spoke gravely.
“Generally speaking I should tell the steward of the ship immediately.”
“But—would he have any possible way to recover the paper without making a great fuss and letting everybody know about it?”