The Ends of Justice by Fred M. White

Author:Fred M. White
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pronoun

XXII. DANGER

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BATH STOOD THERE, UNABLE to say more for the moment. He made not the slightest attempt to pick up the cigar that smouldered on the greasy deck at his feet.

Here was the very last man in the world that he had expected to see, the one he most dreaded. And they met face to face thus on Renton’s own ship. Bath wondered if he would recognise it. There was very little about ocean-going craft of any kind that Renton was not familiar with.

Bath was thinking with lightning rapidity. He wondered if this were part of some cunning trap, or merely a staggering and stupendous coincidence. If Renton had come aboard in the conventional manner, Bath would have been a great deal easier in his mind.

But he must be up and doing something, he told himself; he must shake off that dazed feeling. Renton was smiling in the friendliest possible manner. It must be coincidence, after all.

“How did you get here?” Bath asked vaguely.

“I was doing some yachting,” the involuntary guest explained. “I put off in the dinghey to make Stone Point, and the sea was rougher than I expected. But a change of clothing—”

“Of course,” Bath said hurriedly. “Come this way.”

Renton stepped along as if he expected nothing, suspecting nothing. Bath followed. He was keeping the fact to himself in a most marvellous manner.

“I suppose you are going on a voyage in this tramp,” he said cheerfully. “Well, you might do worse. You’ll get all the air you want, and you won’t have any champagne and cigars. Where are you bound for?”

“I don’t know,” Bath said recklessly. “I—I never asked. I am sick of routine, and only too glad to have no programme. I suppose we are bound for some northern port, but it is all the same to me.”

Renton changed leisurely.

Bath watched him with an impatience that was almost uncontrollable. If he could only get his guest away!

“Won’t your friends be anxious about you?” he suggested.

“Not a bit of it,” Renton replied. “They don’t expect me back to-night. And they would have to run before the breeze. Besides, you’ve got nothing in the way of a boat I should care to venture in so long as this wind holds good. I guess I’m here till your machinery’s repaired. Is it much?”

“Jambed shaft, I understand,” said Bath. “Some fool dropped a bolt into the bed of one of the engines. A few hours, and we shall be under weigh again. We have only one English officer aboard.”

Jordan came clattering down the ladder into the cabin. His face was a little anxious and disturbed. He wanted no strangers aboard at that moment.

“This is Captain—er—Jordan,” Bath said curtly.

Renton nodded. Jordan seemed to be affected with a sudden cold, for his face was half-hidden in a huge red handkerchief. The lantern lights of the cabin were dim, and Renton appeared to know nothing. With a gesture to Bath, Jordan muttered something, and slipped away up the ladder again.

The ex-pilot’s eyes were all agog, his ponderous cheeks shook in an agitated manner.

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