CHAPTER XVI
BARGAINS, GREAT AND SMALL
Lord Ventnor was no fool. Whilst Iris was transforming herself from a semi-savage condition into a semblance of an ultra chic Parisienne—the Orient's dramatic costumier went in for strong stage effects in feminine attire—Sir Arthur Deane told the Earl something of the state of affairs on the island.
His lordship—a handsome, saturnine man, cool, insolently polite, and plentifully endowed with the judgmatical daring that is the necessary equipment of a society libertine—counseled patience, toleration, even silent recognition of Anstruther's undoubted claims for services rendered.
"She is an enthusiastic, high-spirited girl," he urged upon his surprised hearer, who expected a very different expression of opinion. "This fellow Anstruther is a plausible sort of rascal, a good man in a tight place too—just the sort of fire-eating blackguard who would fill the heroic bill where a fight is concerned. Damn him, he licked me twice."
Further amazement for the shipowner.
"Yes, it's quite true. I interfered with his little games, and he gave me the usual reward of the devil's apothecary. Leave Iris alone. At present she is strung up to an intense pitch of gratitude, having barely escaped a terrible fate. Let her come back to the normal. Anstruther's shady record must gradually leak out. That will disgust her. In a week she will appeal to you to buy him off. He is hard up—cut off by his people and that sort of thing. There you probably have the measure of his scheming. He knows quite well that he can never marry your daughter. It is all a matter of price."
Sir Arthur willingly allowed himself to be persuaded. At the back of his head there was an uneasy consciousness that it was not "all a matter of price." If it were he would never trust a man's face again. But Ventnor's well-balanced arguments swayed him. The course indicated was the only decent one. It was humanly impossible for a man to chide his daughter and flout her rescuer within an hour of finding them.
Lord Ventnor played his cards with a deeper design. He bowed to the inevitable. Iris said she loved his rival. Very well. To attempt to dissuade her was to throw her more closely into that rival's arms. The right course was to appear resigned, saddened, compelled against his will to reveal the distressing truth. Further, he counted on Anstruther's quick temper as an active agent. Such a man would be the first to rebel against an assumption of pitying tolerance. He would bring bitter charges of conspiracy, of unbelievable compact to secure his ruin. All this must recoil on his own head when the facts were laid bare. Not even the hero of the island could prevail against the terrible indictment of the court-martial. Finally, at Singapore, three days distant, Colonel Costobell and his wife were staying. Lord Ventnor, alone of those on board, knew this. Indeed, he accompanied Sir Arthur Deane largely in order to break off a somewhat trying entanglement. He smiled complacently as he thought of the effect on Iris of Mrs. Costobell's indignant remonstrances when the baronet asked that injured lady to tell the girl all that had happened at Hong Kong.
In a word, Lord Ventnor was most profoundly annoyed, and he cursed Anstruther from the depths of his heart. But he could see a way out. The more desperate the emergency the more need to display finesse. Above all, he must avoid an immediate rupture.
He came ashore with Iris and her father; the captain of the Orient also joined the party. The three men watched Robert and the girl walking towards them from the group of officers.
"Anstruther is a smart-looking fellow," commented Captain Fitzroy. "Who is he?"
Truth to tell, the gallant commander of the Orient was secretly amazed by the metamorphosis effected in Robert's appearance since he scrutinized him through his glasses. Iris, too, unaccustomed to the constraint of high-heeled shoes, clung to the nondescript's arm in a manner that shook the sailor's faith in Lord Ventnor's pretensions as her favored suitor.
Poor Sir Arthur said not a word, but his lordship was quite at ease—
"From his name, and from what Deane tells me, I believe he is an ex-officer of the Indian Army."
"Ah. He has left the service?"
"Yes. I met him last in Hong Kong."
"Then you know him?"
"Quite well, if he is the man I imagine."
"That is really very nice of Ventnor," thought the shipowner. "The last thing I should credit him with would be a forgiving disposition."
Meanwhile Anstruther was reading Iris a little lecture. "Sweet one," he explained to her, "do not allude to me by my former rank. I am not entitled to it. Some day, please God, it will be restored to me. At present I am a plain civilian."
"I think you very handsome."
"Don't tease, there's a good girl. It is not fair with all these people looking."
"But really, Robert, only since you scraped off the upper crust have I been able to recognize you again. I remember now that I thought you were a most distinguished looking steward."
"Well, I am helpless. I cannot even squeeze you. By the way, Iris, during the next few days say nothing about our mine."
"Oh, why not?"
"Just a personal whim. It will please me."
"If it pleases you, Robert, I am satisfied."
He pressed her arm by way of answer. They were too near to the waiting trio for other comment.
"Captain Fitzroy," cried Iris, "let me introduce Mr. Anstruther to you. Lord Ventnor, you have met Mr. Anstruther before."
The sailor shook hands. Lord Ventnor smiled affably.
"Your enforced residence on the island seems to have agreed with you," he said.
"Admirably. Life here had its drawbacks, but we fought our enemies in the open. Didn't we, Iris?"
"Yes, dear. The poor Dyaks were not sufficiently modernized to attack us with false testimony."
His lordship's sallow face wrinkled somewhat. So Iris knew of the court-martial, nor was she afraid to proclaim to all the world that this man was her lover. As for Captain Fitzroy, his bushy eyebrows disappeared into his peaked cap when he heard the manner of their speech.
Nevertheless Ventnor smiled again.
"Even the Dyaks respected Miss Deane," he said.
But Anstruther, sorry for the manifest uneasiness of the shipowner, repressed the retort on his lips, and forthwith suggested that they should walk to the north beach in the first instance, that being the scene of the wreck.
During the next hour he became auditor rather than narrator. It was Iris who told of his wild fight against wind and waves, Iris who showed them where he fought with the devil-fish, Iris who expatiated on the long days of ceaseless toil, his dauntless courage in the face of every difficulty, the way in which he rescued her from the clutch of the savages, the skill of his preparations against the anticipated attack, and the last great achievement of all, when, time after time, he foiled the Dyaks' best-laid plans, and flung them off, crippled and disheartened, during the many phases of the thirty hours' battle.
She had an attentive audience. Most of the Orient's officers quietly came up and followed the girl's glowing recital with breathless interest. Robert vainly endeavored more than once to laugh away her thrilling eulogy. But she would have none of it. Her heart was in her words. He deserved this tribute of praise, unstinted, unmeasured, abundant in its simple truth, yet sounding like a legend spun by some romantic poet, were not the grim evidences of its accuracy visible on every hand.
She was so volubly clear, so precise in fact, so subtle in her clever delineations of humorous or tragic events, that her father was astounded, and even Anstruther silently admitted that a man might live until he equaled the years of a Biblical patriarch without discovering all the resources of a woman.
There were tears in her eyes when she ended; but they were tears of thankful happiness, and Lord Ventnor, a silent listener who missed neither word nor look, felt a deeper chill in his cold heart as he realized that this woman's love could never be his. The knowledge excited his passion the more. His hatred of Anstruther now became a mania, an insensate resolve to mortally stab this meddler who always stood in his path.
Robert hoped that his present ordeal was over. It had only begun. He was called on to answer questions without number. Why had the tunnel been made? What was the mystery of the Valley of Death? How did he manage to guess the dimensions of the sun-dial? How came he to acquire such an amazing stock of out-of-the-way knowledge of the edible properties of roots and trees? How? Why? Where? When? They never would be satisfied, for not even the British navypoking its nose into the recesses of the world—often comes across such an amazing story as the adventures of this couple on Rainbow Island.
He readily explained the creation of quarry and cave by telling them of the vein of antimony embedded in the rock near the fault. Antimony is one of the substances that covers a multitude of doubts. No one, not excepting the doctors who use it, knows much about it, and in Chinese medicine it might be a chief factor of exceeding nastiness.
Inside the cavern, the existence of the partially completed shaft to the ledge accounted for recent disturbances on the face of the rock, and new-comers could not, of course, distinguish the bones of poor "J.S." as being the remains of a European.
Anstruther was satisfied that none of them hazarded the remotest guess as to the value of the gaunt rock they were staring at, and chance helped him to baffle further inquiry.
A trumpeter on board the Orient was blowing his lungs out to summon them to luncheon, when Captain Fitzroy put a final query.
"I can quite understand," he said to Robert, "that you have an affection for this weird place."
"I should think so indeed," muttered the stout midshipman, glancing at Iris.
"But I am curious to know," continued the commander, "why you lay claim to the island? You can hardly intend to return here."
He pointed to Robert's placard stuck on the rock.
Anstruther paused before he answered. He felt that Lord Ventnor's dark eyes were fixed on him. Everybody was more or less desirous to have this point cleared up. He looked the questioner squarely in the face.
"In some parts of the world," he said, "there are sunken reefs, unknown, uncharted, on which many a vessel has been lost without any contributory fault on the part of her officers?"
"Undoubtedly."
"Well, Captain Fitzroy, when I was stationed with my regiment in Hong Kong I encountered such a reef, and wrecked my life on it. At least, that is how it seemed to me then. Fortune threw me ashore here, after a long and bitter submergence. You can hardly blame me if I cling to the tiny speck of land that gave me salvation."
"No," admitted the sailor. He knew there was something more in the allegory than the text revealed, but it was no business of his.
"Moreover," continued Robert smilingly, "you see I have a partner."
"There cannot be the slightest doubt about the partner," was the prompt reply.
Then every one laughed, Iris more than any, though Sir Arthur Deane's gaiety was forced, and Lord Ventnor could taste the acidity of his own smile.
Later in the day the first lieutenant told his chief of Anstruther's voluntary statement concerning the court-martial. Captain Fitzroy was naturally pained by this unpleasant revelation, but he took exactly the same view as that expressed by the first lieutenant in Robert's presence.
Nevertheless he pondered the matter, and seized an early opportunity of mentioning it to Lord Ventnor. That distinguished nobleman was vastly surprised to learn how Anstruther had cut the ground from beneath his feet.
"Yes," he said, in reply to the sailor's request for information, "I know all about it. It could not well be otherwise, seeing that next to Mrs. Costobell I was the principal witness against him."
"That must have been d——d awkward for you," was the unexpected comment.
"Indeed! Why?"
"Because rumor linked your name with that of the lady in a somewhat outspoken way."
"You astonish me. Anstruther certainly made some stupid allegations during the trial; but I had no idea he was able to spread this malicious report subsequently."
"I am not talking of Hong Kong, my lord, but of Singapore, months later."
Captain Fitzroy's tone was exceedingly dry. Indeed, some people might deem it offensive.
His lordship permitted himself the rare luxury of an angry scowl.
"Rumor is a lying jade at the best," he said curtly. "You must remember, Captain Fitzroy, that I have uttered no word of scandal about Mr. Anstruther, and any doubts concerning his conduct can be set at rest by perusing the records of his case in the Adjutant-General's office at Hong Kong."
"Hum!" said the sailor, turning on his heel to enter the chart-room. This was no way to treat a real live lord, a personage of some political importance, too, such as the Special Envoy to Wang Hai. Evidently, Iris was no mean advocate. She had already won for the "outcast" the suffrages of the entire ship's company.
The girl and her father went back to the island with Robert. After taking thought, the latter decided to ask Mir Jan to remain in possession until he returned. There was not much risk of another Dyak invasion. The fate of Taung S'Ali's expedition would not encourage a fresh set of marauders, and the Mahommedan would be well armed to meet unforeseen contingencies, whilst on his, Anstruther's, representations the Orient would land an abundance of stores. In any event, it was better for the native to live in freedom on Rainbow Island than to be handed over to the authorities as an escaped convict, which must be his immediate fate no matter what magnanimous view the Government of India might afterwards take of his services.
Mir Jan's answer was emphatic. He took off his turban and placed it on Anstruther's feet.
"Sahib," he said, "I am your dog. If, some day, I am found worthy to be your faithful servant, then shall I know that Allah has pardoned my transgressions. I only killed a man because—"
"Peace, Mir Jan. Let him rest."
"Why is he worshiping you, Robert?" demanded Iris.
He told her.
"Really," she cried, "I must keep up my studies in Hindustani. It is quite too sweet."
And then, for the benefit of her father, she rattled off into a spirited account of her struggles with the algebraic x and the Urdu compound verb.
Sir Arthur Deane managed to repress a sigh. In spite of himself he could not help liking Anstruther. The man was magnetic, a hero, an ideal gentleman. No wonder his daughter was infatuated with him. Yet the future was dark and storm-tossed, full of sinister threats and complications. Iris did not know the wretched circumstances which had come to pass since they parted, and which had changed the whole aspect of his life. How could he tell her? Why should it be his miserable lot to snatch the cup of happiness from her lips? In that moment of silent agony he wished he were dead, for death alone could remove the burthen laid on him. Well, surely he might bask in the sunshine of her laughter for another day. No need to embitter her joyous heart until he was driven to it by dire necessity.
So he resolutely brushed aside the woe-begone phantom of care, and entered into the abandon of the hour with a zest that delighted her. The dear girl imagined that Robert, her Robert, had made another speedy conquest, and Anstruther himself was much elated by the sudden change in Sir Arthur Deane's demeanor.
They behaved like school children on a picnic. They roared over Iris's troubles in the matter of divided skirts, too much divided to be at all pleasant. The shipowner tasted some of her sago bread, and vowed it was excellent. They unearthed two bottles of champagne, the last of the case, and promised each other a hearty toast at dinner. Nothing would content Iris but that they should draw a farewell bucketful of water from the well and drench the pitcher-plant with a torrential shower.
Robert carefully secured the pocket-books, money and other effects found on their dead companions. The baronet, of course, knew all the principal officers of the Sirdar. He surveyed these mournful relics with sorrowful interest.
"The Sirdar was the crack ship of my fleet, and Captain Ross my most trusted commander," he said. "You may well imagine, Mr. Anstruther, what a cruel blow it was to lose such a vessel, with all these people on board, and my only daughter amongst them. I wonder now that it did not kill me."
"She was a splendid sea-boat, sir. Although disabled, she fought gallantly against the typhoon. Nothing short of a reef would break her up."
"Ah, well," sighed the shipowner, "the few timbers you have shown me here are the remaining assets out of £300,000."
"Was she not insured?" inquired Robert.
"No; that is, I have recently adopted a scheme of mutual self-insurance, and the loss falls pro rata on my other vessels."
The baronet glanced covertly at Iris. The words conveyed little meaning to her. Indeed, she broke in with a laugh—
"I am afraid I have heard you say, father dear, that some ships in the fleet paid you best when they ran ashore."
"Yes, Iris. That often happened in the old days. It is different now. Moreover, I have not told you the extent of my calamities. The Sirdar was lost on March 18, though I did not know it for certain until this morning. But on March 25 the Bahadur was sunk in the Mersey during a fog, and three days later the Jemadar turned turtle on the James and Mary shoal in the Hooghly. Happily there were no lives lost in either of these cases."
Even Iris was appalled by this list of casualties.
"My poor, dear dad!" she cried. "To think that all these troubles should occur the very moment I left you!"
Yet she gave no thought to the serious financial effect of such a string of catastrophes. Robert, of course, appreciated this side of the business, especially in view of the shipowner's remark about the insurance. But Sir Arthur Deane's stiff upper lip deceived him. He failed to realize that the father was acting a part for his daughter's sake.
Oddly enough, the baronet did not seek to discuss with them the legal-looking document affixed near the cave. It claimed all rights in the island in their joint names, and this was a topic he wished to avoid. For the time, therefore, the younger man had no opportunity of taking him into his confidence, and Iris held faithfully to her promise of silence.
The girl's ragged raiment, sou'wester, and strong boots were already packed away on board. She now rescued the Bible, the copy of Tennyson's poems, the battered tin cup, her revolver, and the Lee-Metford which "scared" the Dyaks when they nearly caught Anstruther and Mir Jan napping. Robert also gathered for her an assortment of Dyak hats, belts, and arms, including Taung S'Ali's parang and a sumpitan. These were her trophies, the spolia opima of the campaign.
His concluding act was to pack two of the empty oil tins with all the valuable lumps of auriferous quartz he could find where he shot the rubbish from the cave beneath the trees. On top of these he placed some antimony ore, and Mir Jan, wondering why the sahib wanted the stuff, carried the consignment to the waiting boat. Lieutenant Playdon, in command of the last party of sailors to quit the island, evidently expected Mir Jan to accompany them, but Anstruther explained that the man would await his return, some time in June or July.
Sir Arthur Deane found himself speculating on the cause of this extraordinary resolve, but, steadfast to his policy of avoiding controversial matters, said nothing. A few words to the captain procured enough stores to keep the Mahommedan for six months at least, and whilst these were being landed, the question was raised how best to dispose of the Dyaks.
The commander wished to consult the convenience of his guests.
"If we go a little out of our way and land them in Borneo," he said, "they will be hanged without troubling you further. If I take them to Singapore they will be tried on your evidence and sent to penal servitude. Which is it to be?"
It was Iris who decided.
"I cannot bear to think of more lives being sacrificed," she protested. "Perhaps if these men are treated mercifully and sent to their homes after some punishment their example may serve as a deterrent to others."
So it was settled that way. The anchor rattled up to its berth and the Orient turned her head towards Singapore. As she steadily passed away into the deepening azure, the girl and her lover watched the familiar outlines of Rainbow Island growing dim in the evening light. For a long while they could see Mir Jan's tall, thin figure motionless on a rock at the extremity of Europa Point. Their hut, the reef, the ledge, came into view as the cruiser swung round to a more northerly course.
Iris had thrown an arm across her father's shoulders. The three were left alone just then, and they were silent for many minutes. At last, the flying miles merged the solitary palm beyond the lagoon with the foliage on the cliff. The wide cleft of Prospect Park grew less distinct. Mir Jan's white-clothed figure was lost in the dark background. The island was becoming vague, dream-like, a blurred memory.
"Robert," said the girl devoutly, "God has been very good to us."
"Yes," he replied. "I was thinking, even this instant, of the verse that is carved on the gate of the Memorial Well at Cawnpore: 'These are they which came out of great tribulation.' We, too, have come out of great tribulation, happily with our lives—and more. The decrees of fate are indeed inscrutable."
Iris turned to him a face roseate with loving comprehension.
"Do you remember this hour yesterday?" she murmured—"how we suffered from thirst—how the Dyaks began their second attack from the ridge—how you climbed down the ladder and I followed you? Oh father, darling," she went on impulsively, tightening her grasp, "you will never know how brave he was, how enduring, how he risked all for me and cheered me to the end, even though the end seemed to be the grave."
"I think I am beginning to understand now," answered the shipowner, averting his eyes lest Iris should see the tears in them. Their Calvary was ended, they thought—was it for him to lead them again through the sorrowful way? It was a heartrending task that lay before him, a task from which his soul revolted. He refused even to attempt it. He sought forgetfulness in a species of mental intoxication, and countenanced his daughter's love idyll with such apparent approval that Lord Ventnor wondered whether Sir Arthur were not suffering from senile decay.
The explanation of the shipowner's position was painfully simple. Being a daring yet shrewd financier, he perceived in the troubled condition of the Far East a magnificent opportunity to consolidate the trading influence of his company. He negotiated two big loans, one, of a semi-private nature, to equip docks and railways in the chief maritime province of China, the other of a more public character, with the Government of Japan. All his own resources, together with those of his principal directors and shareholders, were devoted to these objects. Contemporaneously, he determined to stop paying heavy insurance premiums on his fleet and make it self-supporting, on the well-known mutual principle.
His vessels were well equipped, well manned, replete with every modern improvement, and managed with great commercial skill. In three or four years, given ordinary trading luck, he must have doubled his own fortune and earned a world-wide reputation for far-seeing sagacity.
No sooner were all his arrangements completed than three of his best ships went down, saddling his company with an absolute loss of nearly £600,000, and seriously undermining his financial credit. A fellow-director, wealthy and influential, resigned his seat on the board, and headed a clique of disappointed stockholders. At once the fair sky became overcast. A sound and magnificent speculation threatened to dissolve in the Bankruptcy Court.
Sir Arthur Deane's energy and financial skill might have enabled him to weather this unexpected gale were it not for the apparent loss of his beloved daughter with the crack ship of his line. Half-frenzied with grief, he bade his enemies do their worst, and allowed his affairs to get into hopeless confusion whilst he devoted himself wholly to the search for Iris and her companions. At this critical juncture Lord Ventnor again reached his side. His lordship possessed a large private fortune and extensive estates. He was prudent withal, and knew how admirably the shipowner's plans would develop if given the necessary time. He offered the use of his name and money. He more than filled the gap created by the hostile ex-director. People argued that such a clever man, just returning from the Far East after accomplishing a public mission of some importance, must be a reliable guide. The mere cabled intelligence of his intention to join the board restored confidence and credit.
But—there was a bargain. If Iris lived, she must become the Countess of Ventnor. His lordship was weary of peripatetic love-making. It was high time he settled down in life, took an interest in the legislature, and achieved a position in the world of affairs. He had a chance now. The certain success of his friend's project, the fortunate completion of his own diplomatic undertaking, marriage with a beautiful and charming woman—these items would consolidate his career. If Iris were not available, plenty of women, high-placed in society, would accept such an eligible bachelor. But his heart was set on Iris. She was honest, high-principled, pure in body and mind, and none prizes these essentials in a wife more than a worn-out roué.
He seized the first opportunity that presented itself to make Sir Arthur Deane acquainted with a decision already dreaded by the unfortunate shipowner. Iris must either abandon her infatuation for Anstruther or bring about the ruin of her father. There was no mean.
"If she declines to become Countess of Ventnor, she can marry whom she likes, as you will be all paupers together," was the Earl's caustic summing up.
This brutal argument rather overshot the mark. The shipowner's face flushed with anger, and Lord Ventnor hastened to retrieve a false step.
"I didn't exactly mean to put it that way, Deane, but my temper is a little short these days. My position on board this ship is intolerable. As a matter of fair dealing to me, you should put a stop to your daughter's attitude towards Anstruther, on the ground that her engagement is neither approved of by you nor desirable under any consideration."
It may be assumed from this remark that even the Earl's sardonic temper was ruffled by the girl's outrageous behavior. Nor was it exactly pleasant to him to note how steadily Anstruther advanced in the favor of every officer on the ship. By tacit consent the court-martial was tabooed, at any rate until the Orient reached Singapore. Every one knew that the quarrel lay between Robert and Ventnor, and it is not to be wondered at if Iris's influence alone were sufficient to turn the scale in favor of her lover.
The shipowner refused point-blank to interfere in any way during the voyage.
"You promised your co-operation in business even if we found that the Sirdar had gone down with all hands," he retorted bitterly. "Do you wish me to make my daughter believe she has come back into my life only to bring me irretrievable ruin?"
"That appears to be the result, no matter how you may endeavor to disguise it."
"I thought the days were gone when a man would wish to marry a woman against her will."
"Nonsense! What does she know about it? The glamour of this island romance will soon wear off. It would be different if Anstruther were able to maintain her even decently. He is an absolute beggar, I tell you. Didn't he ship on your own vessel as a steward? Take my tip, Deane. Tell him how matters stand with you, and he will cool off."
He believed nothing of the sort, but he was desperately anxious that Iris should learn the truth as to her father's dilemma from other lips than his own. This would be the first point gained. Others would follow.
The two men were conversing in the Earl's cabin. On the deck overhead a very different chat was taking place.
The Orient was due in Singapore that afternoon. Iris was invited into the chart-room on some pretext, and Lieutenant Playdon, delegated by the commander and the first lieutenant, buttonholed Robert.
With sailor-like directness he came straight to the point—
"A few of us have been talking about you, Anstruther, and we cannot be far wrong in assuming that you are hard up. The fact that you took a steward's job on the Sirdar shows your disinclination to appeal to your own people for funds. Now, once you are ashore, you will be landed in difficulties. To cut any further explanations, I am commissioned to offer you a loan of fifty pounds, which you can repay when you like."
Robert's mouth tightened somewhat. For the moment he could not find words. Playdon feared he was offended.
"I am sorry, old chap, if we are mistaken," he said hesitatingly; "but we really thought—"
"Please do not endeavor to explain away your generous act," exclaimed Anstruther. "I accept it thankfully, on one condition."
"Blow the condition. But what is it?"
"That you tell me the names of those to whom I am indebted besides yourself."
"Oh, that is easy enough. Fitzroy and the first luff are the others. We kept it to a small circle, don't you know. Thought you would prefer that."
Anstruther smiled and wrung his hand. There were some good fellows left in the world after all. The three officers acted in pure good nature. They were assisting a man apparently down in his luck, who would soon be called on to face other difficulties by reason of his engagement to a girl apparently so far removed from him in station. And the last thing they dreamed of was that their kindly loan was destined to yield them a better return than all the years of their naval service, for their fifty pounds had gone into the pocket of a potential millionaire, who was endowed with the faculty, rare in millionaires, of not forgetting the friends of his poverty-stricken days.
CHAPTER XVII
RAINBOW ISLAND AGAIN—AND AFTERWARD
Sir Arthur Deane was sitting alone in his cabin in a state of deep dejection, when he was aroused by a knock, and Robert entered.
"Can you give me half an hour?" he asked. "I have something to say to you before we land."
The shipowner silently motioned him to a seat.
"It concerns Iris and myself," continued Anstruther. "I gathered from your words when we met on the island that both you and Lord Ventnor regarded Iris as his lordship's promised bride. From your point of view the arrangement was perhaps natural and equitable, but since your daughter left Hong Kong it happens that she and I have fallen in love with each other. No; please listen to me. I am not here to urge my claims on you. I won her fairly and intend to keep her, were the whole House of Peers opposed to me. At this moment I want to tell you, her father, why she could never, even under other circumstances, marry Lord Ventnor."
Then he proceeded to place before the astounded baronet a detailed history of his recent career. It was a sordid story of woman's perfidy, twice told. It carried conviction in every sentence. It was possible, of course, to explain matters more fully to the baronet than to Iris, and Anstruther's fierce resentment of the cruel wrong inflicted upon him blazed forth with overwhelming force. The intensity of his wrath in no way impaired the cogency of his arguments. Rather did it lend point and logical brevity. Each word burned itself into his hearer's consciousness, for Robert did not know that the unfortunate father was being coerced to a distasteful compact by the scoundrel who figured in the narrative as his evil genius.
At the conclusion Sir Arthur bowed his head between his hands.
"I cannot choose but believe you," he admitted huskily. "Yet how came you to be so unjustly convicted by a tribunal composed of your brother officers?"
"They could not help themselves. To acquit me meant that they discredited the sworn testimony not only of my Colonel's wife, but of the civil head of an important Government Mission, not to mention some bought Chinese evidence. Am I the first man to be offered up as a sacrifice on the altar of official expediency?"
"But you are powerless now. You can hardly hope to have your case revised. What chance is there that your name will ever be cleared?"
"Mrs. Costobell can do it if she will. The vagaries of such a woman are not to be depended on. If Lord Ventnor has cast her off, her hatred may 'prove stronger than her passion. Anyhow, I should be the last man to despair of God's Providence. Compare the condition of Iris and myself today with our plight during the second night on the ledge! I refuse to believe that a bad and fickle woman can resist the workings of destiny, and it was a happy fate which led me to ship on board the Sirdar, though at the time I saw it in another light."
How different the words, the aspirations, of the two suitors. Quite unconsciously, Robert could not have pleaded better. The shipowner sighed heavily.
"I hope your faith will be justified. If it be not—the more likely thing to happen—do I understand that my daughter and you intend to get married whether I give or withhold my sanction?"
Anstruther rose and opened the door.
"I have ventured to tell you," he said, "why she should not marry Lord Ventnor. When I come to you and ask you for her, which I pray may be soon, it will be time enough to answer that question, should you then decide to put it."
It must be remembered that Robert knew nothing whatever of the older man's predicament, whilst the baronet, full of his own troubles, was in no mood to take a reasonable view of Anstruther's position. Neither Iris nor Robert could make him understand the long-drawn-out duel of their early life on the island, nor was it easy to depict the tumultuous agony of that terrible hour on the ledge when the girl forced the man to confess his love by suggesting acceptance of the Dyaks' terms.
Thus, for a little while, these two were driven apart, and Anstruther disdained to urge the plea that not many weeks would elapse before he would be a richer man than his rival. The chief sufferer was Sir Arthur Deane. Had Iris guessed how her father was tormented, she would not have remained on the bridge, radiant and mirthful, whilst the grey-haired baronet gazed with stony-eyed despair at some memoranda which he extracted from his papers.
"Ten thousand pounds!" he muttered. "Not a great sum for the millionaire financier, Sir Arthur Deane, to raise on his note of hand. A few months ago men offered me one hundred times the amount on no better security. And now, to think that a set of jabbering fools in London should so destroy my credit and their own, that not a bank will discount our paper unless they are assured Lord Ventnor has joined the board! Fancy me, of all men, being willing to barter my child for a few pieces of gold!"
The thought was maddening. For a little while he yielded to utter despondency. It was quite true that a comparatively small amount of money would restore the stability of his firm. Even without it, were his credit unimpaired, he could easily tide over the period of depression until the first fruits of his enterprise were garnered. Then, all men would hail him as a genius.
Wearily turning over his papers, he suddenly came across the last letter written to him by Iris's mother. How she doted on their only child! He recalled one night, shortly before his wife died, when the little Iris was brought into her room to kiss her and lisp her infantile prayers. She had devised a formula of her own—"God bless father! God bless mother! God bless me, their little girl!"
And what was it she cried to him from the beach?
"Your own little girl given back to you!"
Given back to him! For what—to marry that black-hearted scoundrel whose pastime was the degradation of women and the defaming of honest men? That settled it. Instantly the cloud was lifted from his soul. A great peace came upon him. The ruin of his business he might not be able to avert, but he would save from, the wreck that which he prized more than all else—his daughter's love.
The engines dropped to half speed—they were entering the harbor of Singapore. In a few hours the worst would be over. If Ventnor telegraphed to London his withdrawal from the board, nothing short of a cabled draft for ten thousand pounds would prevent certain creditors from filing a bankruptcy petition. In the local banks the baronet had about a thousand to his credit. Surely among the rich merchants of the port, men who knew the potentialities of his scheme, he would be able to raise the money needed. He would try hard. Already he felt braver. The old fire had returned to his blood. The very belief that he was acting in the way best calculated to secure his daughter's happiness stimulated and encouraged him.
He went on deck, to meet Iris skipping down the hatchway.
"Oh, there you are!" she cried. "I was just coming to find out why you were moping in your cabin. You are missing the most beautiful view—all greens, and blues, and browns! Run, quick! I want you to see every inch of it."
She held out her hand and pulled him gleefully up the steps. Leaning against the taffrail, some distance apart from each other, were Anstruther and Lord Ventnor. Need it be said to whom Iris drew her father?
"Here he is, Robert," she laughed. "I do believe he was sulking because Captain Fitzroy was so very attentive to me. Yet you didn't mind it a bit!"
The two men looked into each other eyes. They smiled. How could they resist the contagion of her sunny nature?
"I have been thinking over what you said to me just now, Anstruther," said the shipowner slowly.
"Oh!" cried Iris. "Have you two been talking secrets behind my back?"
"It is no secret to you—my little girl—" Her father's voice lingered on the phrase. "When we are on shore, Robert, I will explain matters to you more fully. Just now I wish only to tell you that where Iris has given her heart I will not refuse her hand."
"You darling old dad! And is that what all the mystery was about?"
She took his face between her hands and kissed him. Lord Ventnor, wondering at this effusiveness, strolled forward.
"What has happened, Miss Deane?" he inquired. "Have you just discovered what an excellent parent you possess?"
The baronet laughed, almost hysterically. "'Pon my honor," he cried, "you could not have hit upon a happier explanation."
His lordship was not quite satisfied.
"I suppose you will take Iris to Smith's Hotel?" he said with cool impudence.
Iris answered him.
"Yes. My father has just asked Robert to come with us—by inference, that is. Where are you going?"
The adroit use of her lover's Christian name goaded his lordship to sudden heat.
"Indeed!" he snarled. "Sir Arthur Deane has evidently decided a good many things during the last hour."
"Yes," was the shipowner's quiet retort. "I have decided that my daughter's happiness should be the chief consideration of my remaining years. All else must give way to it."
The Earl's swarthy face grew sallow with fury. His eyes blazed, and there was a tense vibrato in his voice as he said—
"Then I must congratulate you, Miss Deane. You are fated to endure adventures. Having escaped from the melodramatic perils of Rainbow Island you are destined to experience another variety of shipwreck here."
He left them. Not a word had Robert spoken throughout the unexpected scene. His heart was throbbing with a tremulous joy, and his lordship's sneers were lost on him. But he could not fail to note the malignant purpose of the parting sentence.
In his quietly masterful way he placed his hand on the baronet's shoulder.
"What did Lord Ventnor mean?" he asked.
Sir Arthur Deane answered, with a calm smile—"It is difficult to talk openly at this moment. Wait until we reach the hotel."
The news flew fast through the settlement that H.M.S. Orient had returned from her long search for the Sirdar. The warship occupied her usual anchorage, and a boat was lowered to take off the passengers. Lieutenant Playdon went ashore with them. A feeling of consideration for Anstruther prevented any arrangements being made for subsequent meetings. Once their courteous duty was ended, the officers of the Orient could not give him any further social recognition.
Lord Ventnor was aware of this fact and endeavored to turn it to advantage.
"By the way, Fitzroy," he called out to the commander as he prepared to descend the gangway, "I want you, and any others not detained by duty, to come and dine with me tonight."
Captain Fitzroy answered blandly—"It is very good of you to ask us, but I fear I cannot make any definite arrangements until I learn what orders are awaiting me here."
"Oh, certainly. Come if you can, eh?"
"Yes; suppose we leave it at that."
It was a polite but decided rebuff. It in no way tended to sweeten Lord Ventnor's temper, which was further exasperated when he hurt his shin against one of Robert's disreputable-looking tins, with its accumulation of debris.
The boat swung off into the tideway. Her progress shorewards was watched by a small knot of people, mostly loungers and coolies. Among them, however, were two persons who had driven rapidly to the landing-place when the arrival of the Orient was reported. One bore all the distinguishing marks of the army officer of high rank, but the other was unmistakably a globetrotter. Only in Piccadilly could he have purchased his wondrous sola topi, or pith helmet—with its imitation puggri neatly frilled and puckered—and no tailor who ever carried his goose through the Exile's Gate would have fashioned his expensive garments. But the old gentleman made no pretence that he could "hear the East a-callin'." He swore impartially at the climate, the place, and its inhabitants. At this instant he was in a state of wild excitement. He was very tall, very stout, exceedingly red-faced. Any budding medico who understood the pre-eminence enjoyed by aq. ad in a prescription, would have diagnosed him as a first-rate subject for apoplexy.
Producing a tremendous telescope, he vainly endeavored to balance it on the shoulder of a native servant.
"Can't you stand still, you blithering idiot!" he shouted, after futile attempts to focus the advancing boat, "or shall I steady you by a clout over the ear?"
His companion, the army man, was looking through a pair of field-glasses.
"By Jove!" he cried, "I can see Sir Arthur Deane, and a girl who looks like his daughter. There's that infernal scamp, Ventnor, too."
The big man brushed the servant out of his way, and brandished the telescope as though it were a bludgeon.
"The dirty beggar! He drove my lad to misery and death, yet he has come back safe and sound. Wait till I meet him. I'll—"
"Now, Anstruther! Remember your promise. I will deal with Lord Ventnor. My vengeance has first claim. What! By the jumping Moses, I do believe—Yes. It is. Anstruther! Your nephew is sitting next to the girl!"
The telescope fell on the stones with a crash. The giant's rubicund face suddenly blanched. He leaned on his friend for support.
"You are not mistaken," he almost whimpered. "Look again, for God's sake, man. Make sure before you speak. Tell me! Tell me!"
"Calm yourself, Anstruther. It is Robert, as sure as I'm alive. Don't you think I know him, my poor disgraced friend, whom I, like all the rest, cast off in his hour of trouble? But I had some excuse. There! There! I didn't mean that, old fellow. Robert himself will be the last man to blame either of us. Who could have suspected that two people—one of them, God help me! my wife—would concoct such a hellish plot!"
The boat glided gracefully alongside the steps of the quay, and Playdon sprang ashore to help Iris to alight. What happened immediately afterwards can best be told in his own words, as he retailed the story to an appreciative audience in the ward-room.
"We had just landed," he said, "and some of the crew were pushing the coolies out of the way, when two men jumped down the steps, and a most fiendish row sprang up. That is, there was no dispute or wrangling, but one chap, who, it turned out, was Colonel Costobell, grabbed Ventnor by the shirt front, and threatened to smash his face in if he didn't listen then and there to what he had to say. I really thought about interfering, until I heard Colonel Costobell's opening words. After that I would gladly have seen the beggar chucked into the harbor. We never liked him, did we?"
"Ask no questions, Pompey, but go ahead with the yarn," growled the first lieutenant.
"Well, it seems that Mrs. Costobell is dead. She got enteric a week after the Orient sailed, and was a goner in four days. Before she died she owned up."
He paused, with a base eye to effect. Not a man moved a muscle.
"All right," he cried. "I will make no more false starts. Mrs. Costobell begged her husband's forgiveness for her treatment of him, and confessed that she and Lord Ventnor planned the affair for which Anstruther was tried by court-martial. It must have been a beastly business, for Costobell was sweating with rage, though his words were icy enough. And you ought to have seen Ventnor's face when he heard of the depositions, sworn to and signed by Mrs. Costobell and by several Chinese servants whom he bribed to give false evidence. He promised to marry Mrs. Costobell if her husband died, or, in any event, to bring about a divorce when the Hong Kong affair had blown over. Then she learnt that he was after Miss Iris, and there is no doubt her fury helped on the fever. Costobell said that, for his wife's sake, he would have kept the wretched thing secret, but he was compelled to clear Anstruther's name, especially as he came across the other old Johnnie—"
"Pompey, you are incoherent with excitement. Who is 'the other old Johnnie'?" asked the first luff severely.
"Didn't I tell you? Why, Anstruther's uncle, of course, a heavy old swell with just a touch of Yorkshire in his tongue. I gathered that he disinherited his nephew when the news of the court-martial reached him. Then he relented, and cabled to him. Getting no news, he came East to look for him. He met Costobell the day after the lady died, and the two swore—the stout uncle can swear a treat—anyhow, they vowed to be revenged on Ventnor, and to clear Anstruther's character, living or dead. Poor old chap! He cried like a baby when he asked the youngster to forgive him. It was quite touching. I can tell you—"
Playdon affected to search for his pocket-handkerchief.
"Do tell us, or it will be worse for you," cried his mentor.
"Give me time, air, a drink! What you fellows want is a phonograph. Let me see. Well, Costobell shook Ventnor off at last, with the final observation that Anstruther's court-martial has been quashed. The next batch of general orders will re-instate him in the regiment, and it rests with him to decide whether or not a criminal warrant shall be issued against his lordship for conspiracy. Do you fellows know what conspir—?"
"You cuckoo! What did Miss Deane do?"
"Clung to Anstruther like a weeping angel, and kissed everybody all round when Ventnor got away. Well—hands off. I mean her father, Anstruther and the stout uncle. Unfortunately I was not on in that scene. But, for some reason, they all nearly wrung my arm off, and the men were so excited that they gave the party a rousing cheer as their rickshaws went off in a bunch. Will no Christian gentleman get me a drink?"
The next commotion arose in the hotel when Sir Arthur Deane seized the first opportunity to explain the predicament in which his company was placed, and the blow which Lord Ventnor yet had it in his power to deal.
Mr. William Anstruther was an interested auditor. Robert would have spoken, but his uncle restrained him.
"Leave this to me, lad," he exclaimed. "When I was coming here in the Sirdar there was a lot of talk about Sir Arthur's scheme, and there should not be much difficulty in raising all the brass required, if half what I heard be true. Sit you down, Sir Arthur, and tell us all about it."
The shipowner required no second bidding. With the skill for which he was noted, he described his operations in detail, telling how every farthing of the first instalments of the two great loans was paid up, how the earnings of his fleet would quickly overtake the deficit in capital value caused by the loss of the three ships, and how, in six months' time, the leading financial houses of London, Paris, and Berlin would be offering him more money than he would need.
To a shrewd man of business the project could not fail to commend itself, and the Yorkshire squire, though a trifle obstinate in temper, was singularly clear-headed in other respects. He brought his great fist down on the table with a whack.
"Send a cable to your company, Sir Arthur," he cried, "and tell them that your prospective son-in-law will provide the ten thousand pounds you require. I will see that his draft is honored. You can add, if you like, that another ten will be ready if wanted when this lot is spent. I did my lad one d—er—deuced bad turn in my life. This time, I think, I am doing him a good one."
"You are, indeed," said Iris's father enthusiastically. "The unallotted capital he is taking up will be worth four times its face value in two years."
"All the more reason to make his holding twenty instead of ten," roared the Yorkshireman. "But look here. You talk about dropping proceedings against that precious earl whom I saw to-day. Why not tell him not to try any funny tricks until Robert's money is safely lodged to your account? We have him in our power. Dash it all, let us use him a bit."
Even Iris laughed at this naive suggestion. It was delightful to think that their arch enemy was actually helping the baronet's affairs at that very moment, and would continue to do so until he was flung aside as being of no further value. Although Ventnor himself had carefully avoided any formal commitment, the cablegrams awaiting the shipowner at Singapore showed that confidence had already been restored by the uncontradicted use of his lordship's name.
Robert at last obtained a hearing.
"You two are quietly assuming the attitude of the financial magnates of this gathering," he said. "I must admit that you have managed things very well between you, and I do not propose for one moment to interfere with your arrangements. Nevertheless, Iris and I are really the chief moneyed persons present. You spoke of financial houses in England and on the Continent backing up your loans six months hence, Sir Arthur. You need not go to them. We will be your bankers."
The baronet laughed with a whole-hearted gaiety that revealed whence Iris got some part, at least, of her bright disposition.
"Will you sell your island, Robert?" he cried. "I am afraid that not even Iris could wheedle any one into buying it."
"But father, dear," interrupted the girl earnestly, "what Robert says is true. We have a gold mine there. It is worth so much that you will hardly believe it until then? can no longer be any doubt in your mind. I suppose that is why Robert asked me not to mention his discovery to you earlier."
"No, Iris, that was not the reason," said her lover, and the older men felt that more than idle fancy inspired the astounding intelligence that they had just heard. "Your love was more to me than all the gold in the world. I had won you. I meant to keep you, but I refused to buy you."
He turned to her father. His pent-up emotion mastered him, and he spoke as one who could no longer restrain his feelings.
"I have had no chance to thank you for the words you uttered at the moment we quitted the ship. Yet I will treasure them while life lasts. You gave Iris to me when I was poor, disgraced, an outcast from my family and my profession. And I know why you did this thing. It was because you valued her happiness more than riches or reputation. I am sorry now I did not explain matters earlier. It would have saved you much needless suffering. But the sorrow has sped like an evil dream, and you will perhaps not regret it, for your action today binds me to you with hoops of steel. And you, too, uncle. You traveled thousands of miles to help and comfort me in my anguish. Were I as bad as I was painted, your kind old heart still pitied me; you were prepared to pluck me from the depths of despair and degradation. Why should I hate Lord Ventnor? What man could have served me as he did? He has given me Iris. He gained for me at her father's hands a concession such as mortal has seldom wrested from black-browed fate. He brought my uncle to my side in the hour of my adversity. Hate him! I would have his statue carved in marble, and set on high to tell all who passed how good may spring out of evil—how God's wisdom can manifest itself by putting even the creeping and crawling things of the earth to some useful purpose."
"Dash it all, lad," vociferated the elder Anstruther, "what ails thee? I never heard you talk like this before!"
The old gentleman's amazement was so comical that further tension was out of the question.
Robert, in calmer mood, informed them of the manner in which he hit upon the mine. The story sounded like wildest romance—this finding of a volcanic dyke guarded by the bones of "J.S." and the poison-filled quarry—but the production of the ore samples changed wonder into certainty.
Next day a government metallurgist estimated the value of the contents of the two oil-tins at about £500, yet the specimens brought from the island were not by any means the richest available.
And now there is not much more to tell of Rainbow Island and its castaways. On the day that Captain Robert Anstruther's name appeared in the Gazette, reinstating him to his rank and regiment, Iris and he were married in the English Church at Hong Kong, for it was his wife's wish that the place which witnessed his ignominy should also witness his triumph.
A good-natured admiral decided that the urgent requirements of the British Navy should bring H.M.S. Orient to the island before the date fixed for the ceremony. Lieutenant Playdon officiated as best man, whilst the Orient was left so scandalously short-handed for many hours that a hostile vessel, at least twice her size, might have ventured to attack her.
Soon afterwards, Robert resigned his commission. He regretted the necessity, but the demands of his new sphere in life rendered this step imperative. Mining engineers, laborers, stores, portable houses, engines, and equipment were obtained with all haste, and the whole party sailed on one of Sir Arthur Deane's ships to convoy a small steamer specially hired to attend to the wants of the miners.
At last, one evening, early in July, the two vessels anchored outside Palm-tree Rock, and Mir Jan could be seen running frantically about the shore, for no valid reason save that he could not stand still. The sahib brought him good news. The Governor of Hong Kong felt that any reasonable request made by Anstruther should be granted if possible. He had written such a strong representation of the Mahommedan's case to the Government of India that there was little doubt the returning mail would convey an official notification that Mir Jan, formerly naik in the Kumaon Rissala—he who once killed a man—had been granted a free pardon.
The mining experts verified Robert's most sanguine views after a very brief examination of the deposit. Hardly any preliminary work was needed. In twenty-four hours a small concentrating plant was erected, and a ditch made to drain off the carbonic anhydride in the valley. After dusk a party of coolies cleared the quarry of its former occupants. Towards the close of the following day, when the great steamer once more slowly turned her head to the north-west, Iris could hear the steady thud of an engine at work on the first consignment of ore.
Robert had been busy up to the last moment. There was so much to be done in a short space of time. The vessel carried a large number of passengers, and he did not wish to detain them too long, though they one and all expressed their willingness to suit his convenience in this respect.
Now his share of the necessary preparations was concluded. His wife, Sir Arthur and his uncle were gathered in a corner of the promenade deck when he approached and told them that his last instruction ashore was for a light to be fixed on Summit Rock as soon as the dynamo was in working order.
"When we all come back in the cold weather," he explained gleefully, "we will not imitate the Sirdar by running on to the reef, should we arrive by night."
Iris answered not. Her blue eyes were fixed on the fast-receding cliffs.
"Sweetheart," said her husband, "why are you so silent?"
She turned to him. The light of the setting sun! illumined her face with its golden radiance.
"Because I am so happy," she said. "Oh, Robert, dear, so happy and thankful."
POSTSCRIPT
The latest news of Col. and Mrs. Anstruther is contained in a letter written by an elderly maiden lady, resident in the North Riding of Yorkshire, to a friend in London. It is dated some four years after the events already recorded.
Although its information is garbled and, to a certain extent, inaccurate, those who have followed the adventures of the young couple under discussion will be able to appreciate its opinions at their true value. When the writer states facts, of course, her veracity is unquestionable, but occasionally she flounders badly when she depends upon her own judgment.
Here is the letter:
"MY DEAR HELEN:
"I have not seen or heard of you during so long a time that I am simply dying to tell you all that is happening here. You will remember that some people named Anstruther bought the Fairlawn estate near our village some three years ago. They are, as you know, enormously rich. The doctor tells me that when they are not squeezing money out of the wretched Chinese, they dig it in barrow-loads out of some magic island in the Atlantic or the Pacific—I really forget which.
"Anyhow, they could afford to entertain much more than they do. Mrs. Anstruther is very nice looking, and could be a leader of society if she chose, but she seems to care for no one but her husband and her babies. She has a boy and a girl, very charming children, I admit, and you seldom see her without them. They have a French bonne apiece, and a most murderous-looking person—a Mahommedan native, I believe—stalks alongside and behaves as if he would instantly decapitate any person who as much as looked at them. Such a procession you never saw! Mrs. Anstruther's devotion to her husband is too absurd. He is a tall, handsome man, of distinguished appearance, but on the few occasions I have spoken to him he impressed me as somewhat taciturn. Yet to see the way in which his wife even looks at him you would imagine that he had not his equal in the world!
"I believe there is some secret in their lives. Colonel Anstruther used to be in the army—he is now in command of our local yeomanry—and although his name is 'Robert,' tout court, I have often heard Mrs. Anstruther call him 'Jenks.' Their boy, too, is christened Robert Jenks Anstruther.' Now, my dear Helen, do make inquiries about them in town circles. I particularly wish you to find out who is this person 'Jenks'—a most vulgar name. I am sure you will unearth something curious, because Mrs. Anstruther was a Miss Deane, daughter of the baronet, and Anstruther's people are well known in Yorkshire. There are absolutely no Jenkses connected with them on either side.
"I think I can help you by another clue, as a very odd incident occurred at our hunt ball last week. The Anstruthers, I must tell you, usually go away for the winter, to China, or to their fabulous island. This year they remained at home, and Colonel Anstruther became M.F.H., as he is certainly a most liberal man so far as sport and charity are concerned.
"Well, dear, the Dodgsons—you remember the Leeds clothier people—having contrived to enter county society, invited the Earl of Ventnor down for the ball. He, it seems, knew nothing about Anstruther being M.F.H., and of course Mrs. Anstruther received. The moment Lord Ventnor heard her name he was very angry. He said he did not care to meet her, and left for London by the next train. The Dodgsons were awfully annoyed with him, and Mrs. Dodgson had the bad taste to tell Mrs, Anstruther all about it. And what do you think she said—'Lord Ventnor need not have been so frightened. My husband has not brought his hunting-crop with him!'
"I was not there, but young Barker told me that Mrs. Anstruther looked very impressive as she said this. 'Stunning!' was the word he used, but young Barker is a fool, and thinks Mrs. A. is the most beautiful woman in Yorkshire. Her dress, they say, was magnificent, which I can hardly credit, as she usually goes about in the plainest tailor-made clothes. By the way. I forgot to mention that the Anstruthers have restored our parish church. The vicar, of course, is enraptured with them. I dislike people who are so free with their money and yet reserved in their friendship. It is a sure sign, when they court popularity, that they dread something leaking out about the past.
"Do write soon. Don't forget 'Jenks' and 'Lord Ventnor'; those are the lines of inquiry.
"Yours,
"PS.—Perhaps I am misjudging them. Mrs. Anstruther has just sent me an invitation to an 'At Home' next Thursday.—M.
"PPS.—Dear me, this letter will never get away, I have just destroyed another envelope to tell you that the vicar came in to tea. From what he told me about Lord Ventnor, I imagine that Mrs. Anstruther said no more than he deserved.—M."
NOTE.—Colonel Anstruther's agents discovered, after long and costly inquiry, that a Shields man named James Spence, a marine engineer, having worked for a time as a miner in California, shipped as third engineer on a vessel bound for Shanghai. There be quitted her. He passed some time ashore in dissipation, took another job on a Chinese river steamer, and was last heard of some eighteen months before the Sirdar was wrecked. He then informed a Chinese boarding-house keeper that he was going to make his fortune by accompanying some deep-sea fishermen, and he bought some stores and tools from a marine-store dealer. No one knew when or where he went, but from that date all trace of him disappeared. The only persons who mourned his loss were his mother and sister. The last letter they received from him was posted in Shanghai. Though the evidence connecting him with the recluse of Rainbow Island was slight, and purely circumstantial, Colonel Anstruther provided for the future of his relatives in a manner that secured their lasting gratitude.