Jaffery Part 38
I said no more.
The porter was dismissed. Jaffery drew the letter from his pocket.
"On the other hand she was in London yesterday afternoon in this district, for here is the 5:45 postmark."
"Oh, I posted that letter," said Mrs. Jardine.
"You?" cried Jaffery. He slapped his thigh. "I said there was something fishy about it."
"There was nothing fishy, as you call it, at all, Mr. Chayne, and I'm surprised at your casting such an aspersion on my character. I had a short letter from Mrs. Prescott yesterday enclosing four other letters which she asked me to stamp and post, as I owed her fourpence change on her bill."
"Where did she write from?" Jaffery asked eagerly.
"Nowhere in particular," said the provoking lady.
"But the postmark on the envelope."
She had not looked at the postmark and the envelope had been destroyed.
"Then where is she?" I asked.
"At Southampton, you idiot," said Jaffery. "Let us get there at once."
So after a visit to my bankers--for I am not the kind of person to set out for Santa Fe de Bogota with twopence halfpenny in my pocket--and after a hasty lunch at a restaurant, much to Jaffery's impatient disgust--"Why the d.i.c.kens," cried he, "did I order a big breakfast if we're to fool about wasting time over lunch?"--but as I explained, if I don't have regular meals, I get a headache--and after having made other sane preparations for a journey, including the purchase of a toothbrush, an indispensable toilet adjunct, which Franklin, admirable fellow that he is, invariably forgets to put into my case, we started for Southampton. And along the jolly Portsmouth Road we went, through Guildford, along the Hog's Back, over the Surrey Downs rolling warm in the sunshine, through Farnham, through grey, dreamy Winchester, past St.
Cross, with its old-world almshouse, through Otterbourne and up the hill and down to Southampton, seventy-eight miles, in two hours and a quarter. Jaffery drove.
We began our search. First we examined the playbills at the various places of entertainment. Ras Fendihook was not playing in Southampton.
We went round the hotels, the South-Western, the Royal, the Star, the Dolphin, the Polygon--and found no trace of the runaways. Jaffery interviewed officials at the stations and docks, dapper gentlemen with the air of diplomatists, tremendous fellows in uniform, policemen, porters, with all of whom he seemed to be on terms of familiar acquaintance; but none of them could trace or remember such a couple having crossed by the midnight boats of Thursday or Friday. Nor were their names down on the list of those who had secured berths in advance for this Sat.u.r.day night.
"You're rather at fault," said I, rather maliciously, not displeased at my masterful friend's failure.
"Not a bit," said he. "Fendihook's leaving on Sunday certainly means that he was starting to fulfill a provincial engagement on Monday. If it was a week's engagement, he crosses to-night. We've only to wait and catch them. If it was a three nights' engagement, which is possible, he and Liosha crossed on Thursday night. In that case we'll cross ourselves and track them down."
"Even if we have to go over the Andes and far away," I murmured.
"Even so," said he. "Now listen. If he's had a week's engagement he must be finishing to-night. In order to catch the boat he must be working in the neighbourhood. Savvy? The only possible place besides this is Portsmouth. We'll run over to Portsmouth, only seventeen miles."
"All right," said I, with a wistful look back at my peaceful, comfortable home, "let us go to Portsmouth. I'll resign myself to dine at Portsmouth. But supposing he isn't there?" I asked, as the car drove off.
"Then he went to Havre on Thursday."
"But suppose he's at Birmingham. He would then take to-morrow night's boat."
"There isn't one on Sundays."
"Then Monday night's boat."
"Well, if he does, won't we be there on Tuesday morning to meet him on the quay? Lord!" he laughed, and brought his huge grip down on my leg above the knee, thereby causing me physical agony, "I should like to take you on an expedition. It would do you a thundering lot of good."
We arrived at Portsmouth, where we conducted the same kind of enquiries as at Southampton. Neither there nor at adjoining Southsea could we find a sign of the Variety Star, Ras Fendihook, and still less of the obscure Liosha. We dined at a Southsea hotel. We dined very well. On that I insisted--without much expenditure of nervous force. Jaffery rails at me for a Sybarite and what not, but I have never seen him refuse viands on account of succulency or wine on account of flavour. We had a quart of excellent champagne, a pint of decent port and a good cigar, and we felt that the G.o.ds were good. That is how I like to feel. I felt it so gratefully that when Jaffery suggested it was time to start back to Southampton in order to waylay the London train at the docks, on the off-chance of our fugitives having come down by it, and to catch the Havre boat ourselves, I had not a weary word to say. I cheerfully contemplated the prospect of a night's voyage to Havre. And as Jaffery (also humanised by good cheer) had been entertaining me with juicy stories of China and other mythical lands, I felt equal to any dare-devil adventure.
We went back to Southampton and collected our luggage at the South-Western Hotel--the hotel porter in charge thereof. Our uncertainty as to whether we would cross or not horribly disturbed his dull brain.
Ten shillings and Jaffery's peremptory order to stick to his side and obey him slavishly took the place of intellectual workings. It was nearly midnight. We walked through the docks, a background of darkness, a foreground of confusing lights amid which shone vivid illuminated placards before the brightly lit steamers--"St.
Malo"--"Cherbourg"--"Jersey"--"Havre." At the quiet gangway of the Havre boat we waited. The porter deposited our bags on the quay and stood patiently expectant like a dog who lays a stick at its master's feet.
One London train came in. The carriage doors opened and a myriad ants swarmed to the various boats. At the Havre boat I took the fore, he the aft gangway. Thousands pa.s.sed over, men and women, vague human forms enc.u.mbered with queer projecting excrescences of impedimenta. They all seemed alike--just a herd of Britons, impelled by irrational instinct, like the fate-driven lemmings of Norway, to cross the sea. And all around, weird in the conflicting lights, hurried gnome-like figures mountainously laden, and in the confusion of sounds could be heard the slither and thud of trunks being conveyed to the hold. At last the tail of the packed wedge disappeared on board and the gangway was clear. I went to the aft gangway to Jaffery and the porter. Neither of us had seen Fendihook or Liosha.
A second train produced results equally barren.
There was nothing to do but carry out the prearranged plan. We went aboard followed by the porter with the luggage.
My method of travel has always been to arrange everything beforehand with meticulous foresight. In the most crowded trains and boats I have thus secured luxurious accommodation. To hear therefore that there were no berths free and that we should have to pa.s.s the night either on the windy deck or in the red-plush discomfort of the open saloon caused me not unreasonable dismay. I had to choose and I chose the saloon.
Jaffery, of course, chose the raw winds of heaven. All night I did not get a wink of sleep. There was a gross fellow in the next section of red-plush whose snoring drowned the throb of the engines. Stewards long after they had cleared away the remains of supper from the long central table c.h.i.n.ked money at the desk and discussed the racing stables of the world with a loudly dressed, red-faced man who, judging from the popping of corks, absorbed whiskies and sodas at the rate of three a minute. I understood then how thoughts of murder arose in the human brain. I devised exquisite means of removing him from a nauseated world. Then there was a lamp which swung backwards and forwards and searched my eyeb.a.l.l.s relentlessly, no matter how I covered them.
What was I doing in this awful galley? Why had I left my wife and child and tranquil home? The wind freshened as soon as we got out to sea.
There were horrible noises and rattling of tins and swift scurrying of stewards. The ship rolled, which I particularly hate a ship to do. And I was fully dressed and it seemed as if all the tender parts of my body were tied up with twine. What was I doing in this galley?
When I awoke it was broad daylight, and Jaffery was grinning over me and all was deathly still.
"Good G.o.d!" I cried, sitting up. "Why has the ship stopped? Is there a fog?"
"Fog?" he boomed. "What are you talking of? We're alongside of Havre."
"What time is it?" I asked.
"Half-past six."
"A Christian gentleman's hour of rising is nine o'clock," said I, lying down again.
He shook me rudely. "Get up," said he.
The sleepless, unshaven, unkempt, twine-bound, self-hating wreck of Hilary Freeth rose to his feet with a groan.
"What a ghastly night!"
"Splendid," said Jaffery, ruddy and fresh. "I must have tramped over twenty miles."
There was an onrush of blue-bloused porters, with metal plate numbers on their arms. One took our baggage. We followed him up the companion onto the deck, and joined the crowd that awaited the releasing gangway.
I stood resentful in the sardine pack of humans. The sky was overcast.
It was very cold. The universe had an uncared-for, unswept appearance, like a house surprised at dawn, before the housemaids are up. The forced appearance of a well-to-do philosopher at such an hour was nothing less than an outrage. I glared at the immature day. The day glared at me, and turned down its temperature about twenty degrees. From fool thoughtlessness I had not put on my overcoat, which was now far away in charge of the blue-bloused porter. I shivered. Jaffery was behind me. I glanced over my shoulder.
"This is our so-called civilisation," I said bitterly.
At the sound of my voice a tall woman in the rank five feet deep from us turned instinctively round, and Liosha and I looked into each other's eyes.