“I want to go out and see Miss Merrill.”
“Of course you do. But Miss Merrill was asleep when I left and most probably will sleep for an hour or two yet, so there is time enough. I beg that you will first hear what I have to say. Then we can go out together.”
“Well, come to my hotel,” Cheyne said ungraciously, and the two walked along, Dangle making tentative essays in conversation, all of which were brought to nought by the uncompromising brevity of his companion’s responses.
“You’d better come up to my bedroom,” Cheyne growled when at last they reached their goal. “These dratted servants are cleaning the public rooms.”
In silence they sought the lift and Cheyne led the way to his apartment. Bolting the door, he pointed to a chair, stood himself with his back to the empty fireplace and remarked impatiently: “Well?”
Dangle laughed lightly.
“I see you’re not going to help me out, Mr. Cheyne, and I suppose I can scarcely wonder at it. Well, I’ll get ahead without further delay. But, as I’ve a good deal to say, I should suggest you sit down, and if you don’t mind, I’ll smoke. Try one of these Coronas; they were given to me, so you needn’t mind taking one. No? I wonder would you mind if I rang and ordered some coffee and rolls? I’ve not breakfasted yet and I’m hungry.”
With a bad grace Cheyne rang the bell.
“Coffee and rolls for two,” Dangle ordered when an attendant came to the door. “You will join me, won’t you? Even if my mission comes to nothing and we remain enemies, there’s no reason why we should make our interview more unpleasant than is necessary.”
Cheyne strode up and down the room.
“But I don’t want the confounded interview,” he exclaimed angrily. “For goodness’ sake get along and say what you have to say and clear out. I haven’t forgotten the Enid.”
“No, that was illegal, wasn’t it? Almost as bad as breaking and entering, burglary and theft. But now, there’s no kind of sense in squabbling. Sit down and listen and I’ll tell you a story that will interest you in spite of yourself.”
“I shouldn’t wonder,” Cheyne said with sarcasm as he flung himself into a chair, “but if it’s going to be more lies about St. John Price and the Hull succession you may save your breath.”
Dangle smiled whimsically. “It was for your sake, Mr. Cheyne; perhaps not quite legitimate, but still done with the best intention. I told him that yarn—I admit, of course, it was a yarn—simply to make it easy for you to give up the letter. I knew that nothing would induce you to part with it if you thought it dishonorable; hence the story.”
Cheyne laughed harshly.
“And what will be the object of the new yarn?”
“This time it won’t be a yarn. I will tell you the truth.”
“And you expect me to believe it?”
Dangle leaned forward and spoke more earnestly.
“You will believe it, not, I’m afraid, because I tell it, but because it is capable of being checked. A great portion of it can be substantiated by inquiries at the Admiralty and elsewhere, and your reason will satisfy you as to the remainder.”
“Well, go on and get it over anyway.”
Dangle once more smilingly shrugged his shoulders, lit his cigar and began:
“My tale commences as before with our mutual friend, Arnold Price, and once again it goes back to the year . In Arnold Price was, as you know, third mate of the Maurania, and I was on the same ship in command of her bow gun—she had guns mounted fore and aft. I hadn’t known Price before, but we became friends—not close friends, but as intimate as most men who are cooped up together for months on the same ship.
“In , as we were coming into the Bay on our way from South Africa, we sighted a submarine. I needn’t worry you with the details of what followed. It’s enough to say that we tried to escape, and failing, showed fight. As it chanced, by a stroke of the devil’s own luck we pumped a shell into her just abaft the conning tower after she rose and before she could get her gun trained on us. She heeled over and began to sink by the stern. I confess that I’d have watched those devils drown, as they had done many of our poor fellows, but the old man wasn’t that way inclined and he called for volunteers to get out one of the boats. Price was the first man to offer, and they got a boat lowered away and pulled for the submarine. She disappeared before they could get up to her, and we could see her crew clinging to wreckage. The men in the boat pulled all out to get there before they were washed away, for there was a bit of a sea running, the end of a southwester that had just blown itself out. Well, some of the crew held on and they got them into the boat; others couldn’t stick it and were lost. The captain was there clinging on to a lifebelt, but just as the boat came up he let go and was sinking, when Arnold Price jumped overboard and caught him and supported him until they got a rope round him and pulled him aboard. I didn’t see that myself, but I heard about it afterwards. The captain’s name was Otto Schulz, and when they got him aboard the Maurania and fixed up in bed they found that he had had a knock on the head that would probably do for him. But all the same Price had saved his life, and what was more,
