A Rock in the Baltic. Robert Barr

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СКАЧАТЬ shouldn’t mind studying the Siberian system from the inside if they allowed me to return before my leave was up. I believe that sort of thing has been exaggerated by sensational writers. The Russian Government would not countenance anything of the kind, and if the minor officials tried to play tricks, there’s always my cousin in the background, and it would be hard luck if I couldn’t get a line to him. Oh, there’s no danger in my project!”

      Suddenly the girl came to a standstill, and gave expression to a little cry of dismay.

      “What’s wrong?” asked the Lieutenant.

      “Why, we’ve walked clear out into the country!”

      “Oh, is that all? I hadn’t noticed.”

      “And there are people waiting for me. I must run.”

      “Nonsense, let them wait.”

      “I should have been back long since.”

      They had turned, and she was hurrying.

      “Think of your new fortune, Miss Amhurst, safely lodged in our friend Morton’s bank, and don’t hurry for any one.”

      “I didn’t say it was a fortune: there’s only ten thousand dollars there.”

      “That sounds formidable, but unless the people who are waiting for you muster more than ten thousand apiece, I don’t think you should make haste on their account.”

      “It’s the other way about, Mr. Drummond. Individually they are poorer than I, therefore I should have returned long ago. Now, I fear, they will be in a temper.”

      “Well, if anybody left me two thousand pounds, I’d take an afternoon off to celebrate. Here we are in the suburbs again. Won’t you change your mind and your direction; let us get back into the country, sit down on the hillside, look at the Bay, and gloat over your wealth?”

      Dorothy Amhurst shook her head and held out her hand.

      “I must bid you good-by here, Lieutenant Drummond. This is my shortest way home.”

      “May I not accompany you just a little farther?”

      “Please, no, I wish to go the rest of the way alone.”

      He held her hand, which she tried to withdraw, and spoke with animation.

      “There’s so much I wanted to say, but perhaps the most important is this: I shall see you the night of the 14th, at the ball we are giving on the ‘Consternation’?”

      “It is very likely,” laughed the girl, “unless you overlook me in the throng. There will be a great mob. I hear you have issued many invitations.”

      “We hope all our friends will come. It’s going to be a great function. Your Secretary of the Navy has promised to look in on us, and our Ambassador from Washington will be there. I assure you we are doing our best, with festooned electric lights, hanging draperies, and all that, for we want to make the occasion at least remotely worthy of the hospitality we have received. Of course you have your card, but I wish you hadn’t, so that I might have the privilege of sending you one or more invitations.”

      “That would be quite unnecessary,” said the girl, again with a slight laugh and heightened color.

      “If any of your friends need cards of invitation, won’t you let me know, so that I may send them to you?”

      “I’m sure I shan’t need any, but if I do, I promise to remember your kindness, and apply.”

      “It will be a pleasure for me to serve you. With whom shall you come? I should like to know the name, in case I should miss you in the crowd.”

      “I expect to be with Captain Kempt, of the United States Navy.”

      “Ah,” said the Lieutenant, with a note of disappointment in his voice which he had not the diplomacy to conceal. His hold of her hand relaxed, and she took the opportunity to withdraw it.

      “What sort of a man is Captain Kempt? I shall be on the lookout for him, you know.”

      “I think he is the handsomest man I have ever seen, and I know he is the kindest and most courteous.”

      “Really? A young man, I take it?”

      “There speaks the conceit of youth,” said Dorothy, smiling. “Captain Kempt, U.S.N., retired. His youngest daughter is just two years older than myself.”

      “Oh, yes, Captain Kempt. I—I remember him now. He was at the dinner last night, and sat beside our captain. What a splendid story-teller he is!” cried the Lieutenant with honest enthusiasm.

      “I shall tell him that, and ask him how he liked your song. Good-by,” and before the young man could collect his thoughts to make any reply, she was gone.

      Skimming lightly over the ground at first, she gradually slackened her pace, and slowed down to a very sober walk until she came to a three-storied so-called “cottage” overlooking the Bay, then with a sigh she opened the gate, and went into the house by the servant’s entrance.

CHAPTER II—IN THE SEWING-ROOM

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      THREE women occupied the sewing-room with the splendid outlook: a mother and her two daughters. The mother sat in a low rocking-chair, a picture of mournful helplessness, her hands listlessly resting on her lap, while tears had left their traces on her time-worn face. The elder daughter paced up and down the room as striking an example of energy and impatience as was the mother of despondency. Her comely brow was marred by an angry frown. The younger daughter stood by the long window, her forehead resting against the pane, while her fingers drummed idly on the window sill. Her gaze was fixed on the blue Bay, where rested the huge British warship “Consternation,” surrounded by a section of the United States squadron seated like white swans in the water. Sails of snow glistened here and there on the bosom of the Bay, while motor-boats and what-not darted this way and that impudently among the stately ships of the fleet.

      In one corner of the room stood a sewing-machine, and on the long table were piles of mimsy stuff out of which feminine creations are constructed. There was no carpet on the floor, and no ceiling overhead; merely the bare rafters and the boards that bore the pine shingles of the outer roof; yet this attic was notable for the glorious view to be seen from its window. It was an ideal workshop.

      The elder girl, as she walked to and fro, spoke with nervous irritation in her voice.

      “There is absolutely no excuse, mamma, and it’s weakness in you to pretend that there may be. The woman has been gone for hours. There’s her lunch on the table which has never been tasted, and the servant brought it up at twelve.”

      She pointed to a tray on which were dishes whose cold contents bore out the truth of her remark.

      “Perhaps she’s gone on strike,” said the younger daughter, without removing her eyes from H.M.S. “Consternation.” СКАЧАТЬ