"You may make your mind easy about the _Atlantis_, sir. Besides, as you say, to put the lid on, she"ll be escorted."
"Quite," I said involuntarily, and then we both laughed.
"Royal Hotel at ten-thirty," I said. "I shall be staying there to-night."
I shall never forget that dinner with Connie. One of her greatest charms is her serene light-heartedness. It is not silliness or frivolity, don"t think that, but the bloom upon the fruit of a clear and happy nature whose conscience is at rest. My girl wasn"t a fool. She was not ignorant of evil and the grey sides of life. But they left her untouched. Perhaps her very simplicity, the gay and stainless courage that she wore like a flag through life, had helped her to her great success. The British public might admire and enjoy the work of other artists, but they had taken little Connie Shepherd to their hearts.
She was gay at our dinner, bubbling over with joy and fun. I did my best to respond, but it was rather difficult. There was a shadow on my mind, and it would not go away.
"Dearest old John!" she said once, "what is it? You"re sad, inside of you, and you"re pretending you"re not!"
"Darling, in an hour or two you"ll be gone. How can I be very happy?"
She shook her head. "It"s not that. You can"t deceive me. I don"t want to part, either, especially on this day of days. But we are both of us sensible, and we both know it"s only for six weeks. You aren"t in the least sentimental--horrid word!--nor am I. We go deeper than that."
"Well, then, to tell you the truth"--and it _was_ the truth--"I am a bit under the weather, and I can"t quite say why. Perhaps it"s reaction. But most probably, it"s because I have been hearing some news, a matter in connection with my work which has excited me. It"s a problem of organization I must solve at once. Forgive me, sweetheart!"
"My dear, if you were not what you are, I should never have said "yes."
No one has ever had such a position as you at your age, and I know how you"ve fought for it. I _love_ you to be preoccupied about your work."
We finished dinner, however, in a happier mood, and then walked down to the sea-drome together. Connie"s heavy luggage had gone to New York by steamer a week ago. The two small trunks she had brought with her from London were already on board the _Atlantis_, and Wilson and Thumbwood carried a couple of dressing-bags.
It was a perfect evening. The sun, in going to rest, had hung the sky with banners, golden and glorious. The music of a band upon the pier came softly up to the terrace of the A.P. Station. Young men and maidens in summer clothes strolled up and down over the greens, and a sickle-shaped new moon was rising over Devonport and the Hamoaze.
We went down in the electric car, and boarded the _Atlantis_ from one of my launches. She was lit up in all her triple decks, as we climbed aboard by the saloon accommodation ladder, and a steward took Connie and her maid to her cabin, while I went to find my old friend, Captain Swainson.
The big, bearded man was sitting alone in his little room. There was a cup of black coffee by his side, and he was chewing an unlighted cigar.
I saw at once that he had heard something.
"The very man!" he cried, jumping up from his basket chair and gripping me warmly by the hand. "I heard you were here, Sir John, and I made sure of seeing you before I started. Now what"s all this? Sir Joshua"s half out of his mind with worry, the offices are turned upside down, and Seth Pring--confound him!--is as close as an oyster!"
I found out that he knew just what Sir Joshua knew, and no more. He was indignant but quite cool, inclined to minimize the whole affair.
It seemed to me that to tell him the whole truth would serve no good purpose.
Pilot Superintendent Lashmar, whom I was going to send in command of the escort, would, of course, know everything.
"Well, I"m sending an escort with you half-way across," I said. "Lashmar will go--you know him?--in No. 1 Patrol Boat. It"s heavily armed, and he can shoot straighter than any man in the service. Got his experience in the Great War."
"Escort be blowed!" said hearty Captain Swainson. "I can"t think what old Pring was about to let himself be held up like that--though, of course, it"s just as you wish, Sir John."
"I don"t suppose there"s the least need of it, Swainson. But this business"ll make a bit of a noise, and it looks well. Now I"ll tell you a secret. I"m engaged to be married! Settled it coming down in the train this morning."
"The deuce you are! A thousand congratulations!"
"Thanks. What"s more, the lady is aboard your ship, and flies to New York with you to-night. I want you to look after her for me."
"Can a duck swim? Well, this _is_ news! Now I understand about that escort! But do introduce me, Sir John. It will be more than a pleasure to make the young lady comfortable."
We went off to seek Connie, and found her sitting behind one of the multiplex wind-screens on the saloon deck, listening to the music of a piano and violin that came through the open hatch of the palm-court below.
I remember that the musicians were playing a selection of old English airs, sweet, plaintive music, and had just got to "The Last Rose of Summer."
I"m not emotional, but when I hear that tune to-day--thank goodness, it isn"t often!--I go out of the room.
At a quarter to nine I stood on the Hoe and watched the _Atlantis_ start for America. Her navigation lights were all turned on; the innumerable port-holes of the huge fusilage made an amber necklace below the immense grey planes.
Then, from the towers on the sea-drome wall the "flare-path" shot out--an avenue of white and steady light to guide the liner outwards.
From the roof of the A.P. Station the compressed air-horn sent out three long, brazen calls. I had arranged it so. It was my G.o.dspeed to Constance. Old Swainson answered on his Klaxon, and then the liner began to move slowly over the glittering water. Every second she increased her speed and lifted until she rose clear and slanted upwards. I had a vision of the mysterious silvery thing like a moth in the centre of the light-beam, and then the flare-path shifted out to sea, and rose till it was almost at a right angle with the water. The _Atlantis_ was spiralling up to her ten-thousand-foot level, and in a moment or two she was nothing more than a speck.
Just as I lost sight of her, Patrol Ship No. 1 lifted and followed like a hawk after a heron, and then both ships were lost in the night.
The band on Plymouth Pier was still playing. The young men and maidens were still strolling round the lawns in the moonlight. The air was sweet and pure, full of laughter and the voices of girls. But I went back to the station with a heavy heart.
Two shorthand clerks and two telegraphists were waiting for me, and in the next hour I got through an infinity of work. There was a ma.s.s of telegrams to answer from America. They had been re-wired from Whitehall.
I had to send out fifty or sixty signals to organize a complete patrol of the Atlantic air-lanes. There was a long and confidential "wireless"
to my a.s.sistant, Muir Lockhart, in London, and last, though by no means least, a condensed report of everything for the Home Secretary. It was after ten when I had finished, and I walked slowly back to the "Royal,"
dead tired in mind and body. When I came to think of it, I realized that this had been one of the most eventful and exciting days of my life.
Thumbwood--you will hear a great deal about him before this narrative is over--was waiting in the hall. He hurried me upstairs to where a tepid bath dashed with ammonia was waiting. Five minutes in this, a brisk rub down, a complete change into evening kit, a tea-cup of Bovril with a tablespoon of brandy and a pinch of celery salt in it--what Thumbwood called my "bran-mash"--and I was a new man again.
For a perfect valet commend me a man who has had charge of racehorses in his time!
Then I went down to meet Captain Pring. I saw at once, as I came into the public rooms of the hotel, that the news was out. Groups of people were standing together and talking earnestly. There was a buzz of suppressed excitement, natural anywhere, but particularly so in the princ.i.p.al air-port of England.
And there were special editions of the evening papers....
These--I got one and looked--had made the most of very scanty material.
Nothing like the whole truth had leaked out, but there was, nevertheless, a sensation of the first magnitude. I was recognized and pointed to; a naval captain even spoke, and tried to pump me!--though he soon found that there was nothing doing--and when Captain Pring came into the lounge some idiot started to cheer, and there was what the papers describe as a "scene."
Pring and I supped alone in a private room and had a long confidential talk, in the course of which I learnt many things. I am not going to give any details of that talk at present. It was momentous--it is enough to say that now--and has its proper place further on in the story.
The worthy Captain went at twelve, and I retired to bed. Thumbwood slept in a dressing-room opening out of my bedroom. By his couch was a telephone, which I arranged was to be connected with the A.P. Station all night long. If any signal came Thumbwood was to take it, and, if important, wake me at once.
... I am going to conclude this first portion of the narrative in as few lines as possible. Even to-day I shirk the writing of them.
I was awakened suddenly to find my room blazing with light; I afterwards found that the exact time was 2.30 a.m.
Thumbwood was standing by the bed. "Sir John," he said hoa.r.s.ely, "there"s a signal!"
One glance at the lad"s face was enough, and I set my teeth--hard.
"Bad news?"
"Terrible news, Sir John!"
"Go on."