Читать книгу The Strange Vanguard - Arnold Bennett - Страница 9

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Miss Harriet Perkins was invited by the gestures of a silent, timid, fair-haired young man to follow him down the stairs which led to the lower deck, where were the lounge and the dining-saloon earlier put at the disposal of the twenty-three guests from the Splendide.

The young man, whose austere dinner-jacket had no touch of the marine, switched on lights as he went forward, and then extinguished them behind himself and Miss Perkins. For this purpose he had to pass and re-pass Miss Perkins several times; it was rather as if they were playing a game for position; she smiled at him and he smiled blushingly back. She knew he was admiring her; she liked him; she judged him to be honest. But she could not help thinking how odd it was that the yacht Vanguard should be so sparing of its electric light, unless, indeed, it had a reason now for keeping as dark as possible.

Also she wondered that her hotel-name should be known there, too. Then she decided that in this particular she was alarming herself unnecessarily. Various persons, including Mr. Sutherland, had addressed her as Miss Perkins in the hearing of various stewards. Nevertheless she was alarmed, because she had other reasons for alarm.

At the forward end of the lounge the young man murmured:

“His lordship desires the pleasure of a few minutes’ conversation with you, madam.”

It seemed strange to Harriet that a mere foreign Count should be referred to as ‘his lordship.’ For herself she determined to deal very faithfully with the foreign Count.

“Are you ‘his lordship’s’ secretary?” she asked the young man.

“One of them,” replied the youth, and revealed a further room, small, but of great richness. “Miss Perkins,” he announced loudly and timidly. Harriet gave him a smile as he withdrew and shut the door behind her.

A cigar-smoking, carelessly-dressed gentleman of medium height, with a head of very considerable size, formidably glinting orbs, untidy greyish hair, and a welcoming, almost benevolent smile, sprang awkwardly out of an easy-chair, much too large for him, and advanced to grasp Harriet’s hand.

She had a shock; she wanted to gasp (but of course did not gasp) at the sight of this personage, whom she at once recognized, but had never before seen. The mystery of the Vanguard seemed suddenly in some parts to be illuminated and yet in others to be further darkened. She thought, severely shaken:

“I’m right up against it. I must have a policy.”

But no policy offered itself to her questing brain.

“Miss Perkins?” said the man, dashing away his cigar. “I believe ye are Miss Perkins, aren’t ye?” He had a deep strong, rough voice and a Midland accent. He showed none of the marks of the public school, the University, or the best clubs. If a gentleman, which had yet to be proved, he was one of nature’s ... Not even a dinner-jacket!

“I am,” said she, nervous and challenging. “But who are you? Perhaps I’m more at sea than you think.”

The man laughed pleasantly at her simple wit.

“My name’s Furber. Lord Furber.”

This was Maidie’s terrible, legendary husband. She rather liked him, while sympathizing with Maidie and resolving to stand up for Maidie with every resource at her disposal. She liked his eyes, with their occasional faint gleam of dangerous fun.

“Not the great engineer?” she exclaimed in a tone falsely tremulous, assuming both awe and fearful joy. It was as if she had said: “Dare I believe that I am actually in the presence of the prodigious Lord Furber?”

“Ye’re flattering me. Once, I reckon, I was a bit of an engineer.”

He affected to be insusceptible to flattery, but he was flattered. Harriet was confirmed in her belief that there exists on earth no man who cannot be flattered by an attractive woman. She felt his admiration descending upon her. Therefore she was at ease, and capable of concealing anything and everything except a delicious tendency towards impudence.

She went on:

“Newspaper proprietor, then, if engineer’s too good for you! Capitalist! Millionaire! Yes, now I recognize you from your portrait—it’s always appearing in your own newspapers, isn’t it?”

His lordship laughed again, but not quite so naturally as before. She suspected that it might be perilous to affront him, but she had a certain taste for peril, and when his lordship asked her to sit down, she sat down with gusto, with excited anticipation, with a full sense of the liveliness of life, and with a queer satisfaction that the door was shut and she had him all to herself.

And all the time her brain repeated monotonously: “Imagine him being on board! Imagine seeing him here!”

Lord Furber said:

“I’m sorry ye’ve got carried off like this from your hotel.”

“And from my luggage too,” Harriet put in.

“Yer luggage too,” he concurred.

“I shouldn’t have minded so much if they’d carried off my luggage with me. I might have rather liked being carried off if only I’d had my luggage.”

“Oversight!”

“What was an oversight? Carrying me off, or forgetting my luggage?”

“I apologize,” said Lord Furber, not answering her question.

“I should have thought it was Count Veruda’s place to apologize. The yacht’s his.”

“Who told ye that?”

“He did.”

“Well, I lent him the yacht for the evening. She isn’t his and never was. I own her and I run her, and nobody else does. And she’s more expensive than ten women.”

Maidie had indeed mentioned a yacht, but very casually as being a matter in which she herself felt no personal interest; she had not even given its name.

“Then the Count is a liar,” she said.

“Yes,” Lord Furber admitted judicially. “Yes, I reckon he is. But I’m bound to say he asked my permission first, and I gave it.”

“Asked your permission?”

“Veruda’s my secretary.”

“One of them,” corrected Harriet quickly, recalling what another secretary had said.

“One of ’em. But my favourite. I picked him up because of his picturesqueness. He amuses me. He keeps me interested.”

“I always felt the Count was an adventurer. And yet he looks like a rich man.”

“Not he! He looks like the popular notion of a rich man. I look like a rich man, and I am rich—very rich.” Lord Furber laughed, as if to himself. “Now, Miss Perkins, what do you want me to do?”

“About what?”

“About yeself.”

“Turn back at once and put me ashore where I started from.”

“Certainly. Like a shot—if you insist. But listen now; wouldn’t it meet the case if I wirelessed the Splendide to have yer luggage sent on by motor to the next port we call at?”

“Where’s that?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“Circumstances.”

“And my hotel bill?”

“Oh! We could fix that.”

“And my clothes in the meantime? I haven’t a thing except what I’m in. And even you can’t make it perpetual evening, Lord Furber.”

“Yes, I can. We’ll stay below. The curtains shan’t even be opened. Breakfast by electric light. Lunch by electric light. Every meal by electric light till your luggage arrives ... Of course, I admit there’s your reputation to think of. But that’ll be all right. You needn’t worry about that.”

Miss Perkins hesitated, and then, as it seemed to her, jumped into a deep river.

“Lord Furber,” said she. “Where in heaven’s name do you come from?” The challenge in her tone frightened her for a moment. But she was getting a little used to Lord Furber and, after all, he was only a man like other men.

“The Five Towns.”

“You would!” she exclaimed, striking wildly out into the very middle of the river. “And you’ve never really left them. And perhaps that’s what’s the matter with you. And what’s more, you’re still in the nineteenth century. You can’t have looked at the calendar lately, or you wouldn’t talk in that antediluvian style. Do you suppose my reputation is going to suffer because you and your secretaries and things have bungled their organization? I don’t need anybody to tell me not to worry about my reputation. ‘My reputation to think of,’ indeed! Have you any ladies on board? Or women servants?”

Lord Furber smiled, unruffled.

“One woman. I can’t travel without my chief steward—he’s my butler on dry land—and he can’t travel without his wife. So his wife’s here.” He sighed.

“Then I’ll see her. She’ll arrange things for me for the night. And the yacht shall go back at once, and when I’ve had my sleep out you shall land me yourself at Naples.”

Lord Furber shook his head.

“Can’t.”

“But you said you would.”

“Yes, but I can’t. I was hoping ye’d oblige me by not insisting.”

“But I do insist.”

“I tell ye I can’t do it.”

“You mean you won’t.”

“Have it yer own way, then. I mean I won’t.” He gave a short laugh, loud but grim.

Harriet murmured:

“So now we know where we are.” She threw up her head and answered his laugh with a laugh light and negligent. But she was feeling by this time the strength of the current of the river. All Maidie’s accounts of her husband’s peculiarities had not prepared her for so curt a refusal. She saw in the man’s eyes some hard glint of the force which had made a Lord Furber out of a working engineer.

“Ask me anything else and I’ll do it.”

“Then send for Count Veruda. I feel as if I could talk to him for his own good.”

“He isn’t on board. He took his guests ashore and hasn’t returned ... But you needn’t be afraid,” Lord Furber added kindly, protectively.

“I’m not.”

“Are ye sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. But you’re afraid.”

“I admit it,” he indulged her. “Have a cigarette, will ye?”

“I don’t smoke,” said Harriet drily. “You’re afraid because you’re puzzled. It’s my reasonableness that’s puzzling you. If I’d made a scene you’d have felt safe. But now you can’t make me out. I said we knew where we were. It isn’t quite true. I know where I am, but you don’t know where you are. I’ve got that advantage. And I’ll tell you another thing. Like all millionaires, you’re suspicious, and because I’m keeping calm you’re suspecting all sorts of things about me.”

“For instance?”

“You’re suspecting I got myself left behind on your yacht on purpose.”

“Well, I was,” he said bluntly. “But I don’t now.”

“I do smoke—but only my own.”

Miss Perkins opened her bag and took out a cigarette case. Lord Furber held a lighted match.

“I’ll hold it, thanks,” said Miss Perkins, and when she had lighted the cigarette she carefully dropped the match on the Persian carpet. Then she looked up at him as he stood almost over her. “You’re so deliciously naïve, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean?” Lord Furber spoke gruffly, and stepped back.

“Perhaps that’s why I like you.”

“What do you mean?” he repeated. “Tell me why you think I’m naïve.”

“No. You might lose your temper. You haven’t got much self-restraint, and I hate scenes. If I wanted a scene I should make it myself.”

“I shan’t lose my temper.”

“I say you might.”

“What do you know about my temper?”

“Anybody can see you’ve got a temper.”

“Tell me why you think I’m naïve. Tell me.” Harriet shook her head. “Hang it all!” he went on, and threw an ash-tray violently to the floor. “Must I go on my knees to you? Tell me.”

“Sit down, then.” Harriet laughed. “And don’t jump up again.” Lord Furber sat down. Harriet could feel her heart beating. “You’re naïve because you think everybody has the same kind of motives as you have yourself. You’ve got Machiavelli written all over your face. You love plotting, and so you imagine that everybody is plotting something against you. And because you fancy you can detect scheming everywhere you think you understand human nature. You’ve never grown up. Perhaps that’s a reason why you’re rather adorable.” She deliberately dropped some ash on the Persian carpet.

A pause.

“And what plotting d’ye accuse me of being up to now?”

“Well, the whole business of the dinner was obviously a plot. There was no improvisation in it at all. It was all completely thought out beforehand. And the brains that planned it certainly didn’t leave two of the guests behind by accident. Mr. Sutherland and I must have been left behind on purpose. I’m not a millionaire, but I’m not a simpleton either.”

“Miss Perkins,” said Lord Furber. “Just listen. I shan’t ask ye to believe me, because I know I can make ye believe me. No. Don’t drop yer eyes. Look right at me.”

Harriet, who in fact had lowered her gaze, raised it again.

“Well?”

“I didn’t know ye from Eve until ye came into this room. I’d never heard of ye. I don’t want anything from ye. If ye got left behind it was yer own fault. And you can understand that, with two launches and twenty-three people, it would be easy enough for one or two to be left behind. I hear ye were seen in the engine-room with Mr. Sutherland. I suppose you and he are old friends.”

“Lord Furber,” said Miss Perkins. “Just listen to me. I shan’t ask you to believe me, because I know you can’t help believing me. Till this evening, I’d never spoken a word to Mr. Sutherland in my life. I know nothing at all about him except what everybody knows who reads the newspapers. He’s naïve, like you. But he’s a nice old thing, and he fell in love with me at first sight. Oh yes, in love! I wanted to be kind to him, and I went down with him into the engine-room, and I stayed talking there with him simply because I saw he was enjoying it. But——” she stopped.

“But?” Lord Furber’s eyes gleamed provocatively.

“But I know very well now your people only left me quietly in the engine-room because I was with Mr. Sutherland. You didn’t want to disturb him, and you couldn’t disturb me without disturbing him, and so I am to share Mr. Sutherland’s dreadful fate.” She laughed. “It was Mr. Sutherland you wanted to capture. Once you’d got him on board you’d have kept him here somehow, whether he’d been in the engine-room or anywhere else. And to get him on board you gave a dinner to twenty-three persons, and I shouldn’t be at all surprised if you even organized the hotel-strike. Nothing would surprise me. I haven’t shown a great deal of surprise, but you must admit that I’m entitled to be astonished by what’s happened to me since I was enticed into your two-thousand-ton yacht.”

“And why d’ye settle on Mr. Sutherland as the victim of all this wonderful Machiavellianism? Don’t answer if ye’d prefer not to.”

“Of course I shouldn’t answer if I preferred not to. But I don’t a bit mind answering. His luggage! That’s why I settle on Mr. Sutherland. His luggage! We discovered it together in one of the cabins. I didn’t know it was his till I saw the labels.”

“He might have had it sent on board himself for anything you know.”

Miss Perkins rose to her feet.

“Don’t be so silly,” she somewhat crudely advised Lord Furber. She was shaking. The cigarette shook in her hand.

“What?”

“I say don’t be silly. And what are you going to do about it? Hit me? It’s time somebody talked straight to you. You’re a millionaire, and so everybody humours you and flatters you—and pulls you to pieces behind your back. I know you turn your home into a perfect hell with your childish tantrums.”

“You know nothing about my home!” growled Lord Furber.

“I know a lot about your home. I can see your home in your face at this very moment. You’re all alike, you self-made millionaires. Spoilt children, every one of you. You ought to be well smacked—and in the right place, too.”

At this point Lord Furber, genuinely amazed and furious, overthrew a table. A siphon rebounded on the carpet, but did not break.

“Hell’s delight!” cried he.

“There you are! I told you you hadn’t got any self-restraint. Naughty little thing! Do try to be a man and don’t be silly with your absurd suggestions about Mr. Sutherland having sent his luggage on board himself. I never saw anybody more staggered than Mr. Sutherland was at the sight of that luggage. He didn’t say one word. He didn’t know that I’d read the labels. He just kept quiet. He’s got a thousand times more self-restraint than you have, and I can tell you if you’re up against him you’ve got your work cut out and no mistake....”

Harriet dropped back into her chair. She thought: “I can’t keep this up any longer. It’s about time I felt faint. I believe I do feel faint.” And to Lord Furber in a weak voice:

“Brandy.”

The cigarette fell to the carpet and began to burn a neat hole in its pricelessness. Harriet sighed because, climbing all wet up the further bank of the river, she felt safe once more.