The Pagan Madonna Part 20

"The beads?"

"I am quite confident he knows where they are."

"Are they so precious? What makes them precious?"

"I have told you--they are love beads."

"That's rank nonsense! I'm no child!"

"Isn't love rank nonsense?" Cleigh countered. He was something of a banterer himself.

"Have you never loved anybody?" she shot back at him.

A shadow pa.s.sed over the man's face, clearing the ironic expression.

"Perhaps I loved not wisely but too well."

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean----"

"You are young; all about you is suns.h.i.+ne; I myself have gone down among the shadows. Cunningham may keep his word; but there is always the possibility of his not being able to keep it. He has become an outlaw; he is in maritime law a pirate. The crew are aware of it; prison stares them in the face, and that may make them reckless. If you weren't on board I shouldn't care. But you are young, vital, attractive, of the type that appeals to strong men. In the dry stores there are many cases of liquor and wine. The men may break into the stuff before we reach the Catwick.

That will take ten or twelve days if Cunningham lays a course outside Formosa. What's his game? I don't know. Probably he will maroon us on the Catwick, an island I know nothing about, except that it is nearer to Saigon than to Singapore. So then in the daytime stay where I am or where Captain Dennison is. Good-night."

Dennison balanced his spoon on the rim of the coffee cup--not a particularly easy job.

"Whatever shall I do with the jade?" Jane asked, irrelevantly.

"What?"

"The jade necklace. That poor Chinaman!"

"Ling Foo? I wish I had broken his infernal yellow neck! But for him neither of us would be here. But he is right," Dennison added, with a jerk of his head toward the door. "You must always be with one or the other of us--preferably me." He smiled.

"Will you promise me one thing?"

"Denny."

"Will you promise me one thing, Denny?"

"And that is not to attempt to mix it with the scoundrel?"

"Yes."

"I promise--so long as he keeps his. But if he touches you--well, G.o.d help him!"

"And me! Oh, I don't mean him. It is you that I am afraid of. You're so terribly strong--and--and so heady. I can never forget how you went into that mob of quarrelling troopers. But you were an officer there; your uniform doesn't count here. If only you and your father stood together!"

"We do so far as you are concerned. Never doubt that. Otherwise, though, it's hopeless. What are you going to demand of him--supposing we come through safely?"

"That's my secret. Let's go on deck."

"It's raining hard, and there'll be a good deal of pitching shortly.

Better turn in. You've been through enough to send the average woman into hysterics."

"It won't be possible to sleep."

"I grant that, but I'd rather you would go at once to your cabin."

"I wonder if you will understand. I'm not really afraid. I know I ought to be, but I'm not. All my life has been a series of humdrum--and here is adventure, stupendous adventure!" She rose abruptly, holding out her arms dramatically toward s.p.a.ce. "All my life I have lived in a sh.e.l.l, and chance has cracked it. If only you knew how wonderfully free I feel at this moment! I want to go on deck, to feel the wind and the rain in my face!"

"Go to bed," he said, prosaically.

Though never had she appeared so poignantly desirable. He wanted to seize her in his arms, smother her with kisses, bury his face in her hair. And swiftly upon this desire came the thought that if she appealed to him so strongly, might she not appeal quite as strongly to the rogue? He laid the spoon on the rim of the cup again and teetered it.

"Go to bed," he repeated.

"An order?"

"An order. I'll go along with you to the cabin. Come!" He got up.

"Can you tell me you're not excited?"

"I am honestly terrified. I'd give ten years of my life if you were safely out of this. For seven long years I have been knocking about this world, and among other things I have learned that plans like Cunningham's never get through per order. I don't know what the game is, but it's bound to fail. So I'm going to ask you, in G.o.d's name, not to let any romantical ideas get into your head. This is bad business for all of us."

There was something in his voice, aside from the genuine seriousness, that subdued her.

"I'll go to bed. Shall we have breakfast together?"

"Better that way."

To reach the port pa.s.sage they had to come out into the main salon. Cleigh was in his corner reading.

"Good-night," she called. All her bitterness toward him was gone. "And don't worry about me."

"Good-night," replied Cleigh over the top of the book. "Be sure of your door. If you hear any untoward sounds in the night call to the captain whose cabin adjoins yours."

When she and Dennison arrived at the door of her cabin she turned impulsively and gave him both her hands. He held them lightly, because his emotions were at full tide, and he did not care to have her sense it in any pressure. Her confidence in him now was absolute, and he must guard himself constantly. Poor fool! Why hadn't he told her that last night on the British transport? What had held him back?

The uncertain future--he had let that rise up between. And now he could not tell her. If she did not care, if her regard did not go beyond comrades.h.i.+p, the knowledge would only distress her.

The yacht was beginning to roll now, for they were making the East China Sea. The yacht rolled suddenly to starboard, and Jane fell against him. He caught her, instantly turned her right about and gently but firmly forced her into the cabin.

"Good-night. Remember! Rap on the part.i.tion if you hear anything you don't like."

"I promise."

After she had locked and latched the door she set about the business of emptying her kit bags. She hung the evening gown she had worn all day in the locker, laid her toilet articles on the dresser, and set the bra.s.s hand warmer on the lowboy. Then she let down her hair and began to brush it. She swung a thick strand of it over her shoulder and ran her hand down under it. The woman in "Phra the Phoenician," Allori's Judith--and she had always hated the colour of it! She once more applied the brush, balancing herself nicely to meet the ever-increasing roll.

Nevertheless, she did feel free, freer than she had felt in all her life before. A stupendous adventure! After the braids were completed she flung them down her back, turned off the light, and peered out of the rain-blurred port. She could see nothing except an occasional flash of angry foam as it raced past. She slipped into bed, but her eyes remained open for a long time.