The Maker of Opportunities. Gibbs George

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СКАЧАТЬ man, quietly. “Off Fire Island, I believe, sir.”

      “Fire Island,” he cried, “and this – ” as memory came back with a horrible rush – “what day is this?”

      “Wednesday, June the twentieth,” replied the man, calmly.

      Geltman raised his hands toward the deck beams and sank upon the bunk on the verge of collapse. He remembered now – it was his wedding day!

      CHAPTER II

      As the fog upon his memory still hung heavily he raised his head toward the man at the door of the cabin. That person was eyeing him rather pityingly and had come a step forward into the room.

      “Shall I be getting you something, sir?” he was saying again.

      Geltman sprang unsteadily to his feet.

      “No,” he cried. “I’m going to get out of this.”

      “In pajamas, sir?” said the man, reproachfully.

      Geltman glanced down at the flimsy silk garment.

      “Yes – in pajamas,” he cried, hotly. And with an imprecation he strode past the outraged servant and rushed through the saloon and up the companion. As he raised his head and shoulders above the deck he was immediately aware of a chill wind which was singing sharply through the rigging. A gentleman, in a double-breasted suit and yachting cap, was standing aft steadying a telescope toward a distant schooner. By his side was a short and very stocky man with a bushy red beard and brass buttons.

      “What is the meaning of this outrage?” he cried, wildly addressing the man in the yachting cap. “Are you the owner of this yacht?”

      The gentleman calmly lowered his telescope, passed it to the bearded man, turned mildly toward the tousled apparition and looked at him from top to toe while the sportive wind gleefully defined Geltman’s generous figure.

      “I say, old man,” he said, smiling, “hadn’t you better get into some clothes?”

      “C – clothes be – ” chattered Geltman. “I’ve been drugged, kidnapped, and shanghaied! Somebody’s going to smart for this. Who are you? What does it mean?”

      The enraged brewer, with his arms waving, his slender garment flapping, his inflamed countenance and ruffled hair, presented the wildest appearance imaginable. The man in the yachting cap wore an expression of commiseration and exchanged a significant glance with the red-bearded man.

      “There now,” said he, raising a protesting hand, “we’re all your friends aboard here. You’re in no danger at all, except – ” he smiled at the brewer’s costume – “except from a bad cold.”

      “What does this outrage mean?” cried Geltman anew. “You’ll suffer for it. As long as I have a dollar left in the world – ”

      “You really don’t mean that,” said the gentleman. “Go below now, that’s a good fellow, get breakfast and some clothes.”

      “No, I’ll n – not,” said the brewer in chilly syncopation. “I’m Carl Geltman, of Henry Geltman and Company, and I want an explanation of this outrage.”

      The two men exchanged another look, and the red-bearded one tapped his forehead twice with a blunt forefinger.

      “I haven’t the least idea what you’re talking about, Mr. Fehrenbach,” said the man in the yachting cap, calmly.

      “Fehrenbach!” cried the brewer. “My name isn’t Fehrenbach!” he screamed. “Otto Fehrenbach is on the East Side. I’m on the West. My name is Geltman, I tell you!”

      The man in blue looked gravely down at the astonished brewer and pushed a bell on the side of the cabin skylight.

      “That was one of the symptoms, Weckerly,” he said aside to the man with the red beard.

      “Yes, Doctor,” said the other quizzically. “The sea air ought to do him a lot of good.”

      Geltman, now bewildered, limp and very much alarmed, suffered himself to be led shivering below by the two blue-shirted sailor-men. There he found the steward in the cabin with a drink, and the blue flannels, and a boy laying a warm breakfast in the saloon. He dressed. At table he discovered an appetite which even his troubled spirit had not abated. Hot coffee and a cigar completed his rehabilitation. His situation would have been an agreeable joke had it not been so tragic. He had learned enough to feel that he was powerless, that there had been some terrible mistake, and that the only way out of the difficulty was through the somewhat tortuous and sparsely buoyed channels of diplomacy.

      But he walked out upon deck with renewed confidence. It was early yet. If he could persuade his host of his mistake there was still time to run in shore where the telegraph might set all things right. The man in the yachting cap was smoking a pipe in the lee of the after hatch.

      “Will you please tell me your name?” began the brewer, constrainedly.

      “With all the good will in the world,” said the other, rising. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. I’m Doctor Norman Woolf of New York, and this,” indicating the red-bearded man, “is Captain Weckerly of the Pinta. Captain Weckerly – Mr. Fehrenbach.”

      Geltman started at the repetition of the name, but he gave no other sign.

      “Would you mind,” said the brewer, “telling me how I came aboard your boat?”

      “Not at all,” said Woolf, easily. “You see, when I cruise on the Pinta I make it a point to leave all thought of my cases behind. But sometimes I break my rule, and when they told me of yours I made up my mind I should like to study you under intimate and extraordinary conditions and so – ”

      “Really, I don’t quite follow – ”

      “And so I had to bring you out to the yacht on which I was just starting for a little run over to the Azores.”

      “The Azores!”

      Dr. Woolf was smiling benignly at the unhappy brewer.

      “You know,” he continued, “these cases of aphasia have a peculiar interest for me. It seems such a little slipping of the cogs. What’s in a name, after all? Yours is an old and honored one. The Fehrenbachs have made beer for fifty years – ”

      “It’s a lie,” shouted Geltman springing to his feet, unable longer to contain himself. “It’s only thirty – and the stuff isn’t fit to drink.”

      “Pray be calm. Don’t you know that if this was to get abroad, it would hurt your business?”

      “My business – the business of Geltman and Company – ”

      “The business of Fehrenbach and Company,” interrupted Dr. Woolf sternly.

      The unfortunate brewer with an effort contained himself. He knew that anger would avail him nothing. The only thing left was to listen patiently. He subsided again into his wicker chair and fastened his nervous gaze upon the distant horizon.

      “It’s a pleasure to see you capable of self-control. If you can, I should like you to try and tell me how you happened to begin using the name of Geltman.”

      How СКАЧАТЬ