The Pagan Madonna Part 18

"At any rate, enough to make you accept a bad situation with good grace?"

"You're a foolhardy man, Cunningham. Do you expect me to lie down when this play is over? I solemnly swear to you that I'll spend the rest of my days hunting you down."

"And I solemnly swear that you shan't catch me. I'm through with the old game of playing the genie in the bottle for predatory millionaires.

Henceforth I'm on my own. I'm romantic--yes, sir--I'm romantic from heel to cowlick; and now I'm going to give rein to this stifled longing."

"You will come to a halter round your neck. I have always paid your price on the nail, Cunningham."

"You had to. Hang it, pa.s.sions are the very devil, aren't they? Sooner or later one jumps upon your back and rides you like the Old Man of the Sea."

Cleigh heard the rumble of steam.

"Objects of art!" went on Cunningham. "It eats into your vitals to hear that some rival has picked up a Correggio or an ancient Kirman or a bit of Persian plaque. You talk of halters. Lord lumme, how obliquely you look at facts! Take that royal Persian there--the second-best animal rug on earth--is there no murder behind the woof and warp of it? What? Talk sense, Cleigh, talk sense! You cable me: Get such and such. I get it. What the devil do you care how it was got, so long as it eventually becomes yours? It's a case of the devil biting his own tail--pot calling kettle black."

"How much do you want?"

"No, Cleigh, it's the romantic idea."

"I will give you fifty thousand for the rug."

"I'm sorry. No use now of telling you the plot; you wouldn't believe me, as the song goes. Dinner at seven. Will you dine in the salon with me, or will you dine in the solemn grandeur of your own cabin, in company with Da Vinci, Teniers, and that Carlo Dolci the Italian Government has been hunting high and low for?"

"I will risk the salon."

"To keep an eye on me as long as possible. That's fair enough. You heard what I said to those boys. Well, every mother's son of 'em will toe the mark. There will be no change at all in the routine. Simply we lay a new course that will carry us outside and round Formosa, down to the South Sea and across to the Catwick. I'll give you one clear idea. A million and immunity would not stir me, Cleigh."

"What's the game--if it's beyond ransom?"

Cunningham laughed boyishly.

"It's big, and you'll laugh, too, when I tell you."

"On which side of the mouth?"

"That's up to you."

"Is it the rug?"

"Oh, that, of course! I warned you that I'd come for the rug. It took two years out of my young life to get that for you, and it has always haunted me. I just told you about pa.s.sions, didn't I? Once on your back, they ride you like the devil--down-hill."

"A crook."

"There you go again--pot calling kettle black! If you want to moralize, where's the line between the thief and the receiver? Fie on you! Dare you hang that Da Vinci, that Dolci, that Holbein in your gallery home? No!

Stolen goods. What a pa.s.sion! You sail across the seas alone, alone because you can't satisfy your pa.s.sion and have knowing companions on board. When the yacht goes out of commission you store the loot, and tremble when you hear a fire alarm. All right. Dinner at seven. I'll go and liberate your son and the lady."

"Cunningham, I will kill you out of hand the very first chance."

"Old dear, I'll add a fact for your comfort. There will be guns on board, but half an hour gone all the ammunition was dumped into the Whangpoo. So you won't have anything but your boson's whistle. You're a bigger man than I am physically, and I've a slue-foot, a withered leg; but I've all the barroom tricks you ever heard of. So don't make any mistakes in that direction. You are free to come and go as you please; but the moment you start any rough house, into your cabin you go, and you'll stay there until we raise the Catwick. You haven't a leg to stand on."

Cunningham lurched out of the salon and into the pa.s.sage. He opened the door to Cabin Two and turned on the light. Dennison blinked stupidly.

Cunningham liberated him and stood back.

"Dinner at seven."

"What the devil are you doing on board?" asked Dennison, thickly.

"Well, here's grat.i.tude for you! But in order that there will be no misunderstanding, I've turned to piracy for a change. Great sport! I've chartered the yacht for a short cruise." His banter turned into cold, precise tones. Cunningham went on: "No nonsense, captain! I put this crew on board away back in New York. Those beads, though having a merit of their own, were the lure to bring your father to these parts. Your presence and Miss Norman's are accidents for which I am genuinely sorry.

But frankly, I dare not turn you loose. That's the milk in the cocoanut. I grant you the same privileges as I grant your father, which he has philosophically agreed to accept. Your word of honour to take it sensibly, and the freedom of the yacht is yours. Otherwise, I'll lock you up in a place not half so comfortable as this."

"Piracy!"

"Yes, sir. These are strangely troubled days. We've slumped morally.

Humanity has been on the big kill, with the result that the tablets of Moses have been busted up something fierce. And here we are again, all kotowing to the Golden Calf! All I need is your word--the word of a Cleigh."

"I give it." Dennison gave his word so that he might be free to protect the girl in the adjoining cabin. "But conditionally."

"Well?"

"That the young lady shall at all times be treated with the utmost respect. You will have to kill me otherwise."

"These Cleighs! All right. That happens to be my own order to the crew.

Any man who breaks it will pay heavily."

"What's the game?" asked Dennison, rubbing his wrists tenderly while he balanced unsteadily upon his aching legs.

"Later! I'll let Miss Norman out. That's so--her things are in the salon.

I'll get them, but I'll unlock her door first."

"What in heaven's name has happened?" asked Jane as she and Dennison stood alone in the pa.s.sage.

"The Lord knows!" gloomily. "But that scoundrel Cunningham has planted a crew of his own on board, and we are all prisoners."

"Cunningham?"

"The chap with the limp."

"With the handsome face? But this is piracy!"

"About the size of it."

"Oh, I knew something was going to happen! But a pirate! Surely it must be a joke?"

So it was--probably the most colossal joke that ever flowered in the mind of a man. The devil must have shouted and the G.o.ds must have held their sides, for it took either a devil or a G.o.d to understand the joke.

CHAPTER XI