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Page 22
"A trifling matter to send to New York for what you need," said the
admiral, mightily pleased to have a man to talk to who was not paid to
reply. "I'll have William bring the cart round and take you down."
"No, no; I had much rather walk. I'll turn up some time in the
morning, say luncheon, if that will be agreeable to you."
"As you please. Only, I should like to save you an unpleasant walk in
the dark."
"I don't mind. A dark street in a country village this side of the
Atlantic holds little or no danger."
"I offered to build a first-class lighting plant if the town would
agree to pay the running expenses; but the council threw it over. They
want me to build a library. Not much! Hold on," as Fitzgerald was
rising. "You are not going right away. I shan't permit that. Just a
little visit first."
Fitzgerald resumed his chair.
"Have a cigar. Laura is used to it."
"But does Miss Killigrew like it?" laughing.
"Cigars, and pipes, and cigarettes," she returned. "I am really fond
of the aroma. I have tried to acquire the cigarette habit, but I have
yet to learn what satisfaction you men get out of it."
Conversation veered in various directions, and finally rested upon the
subject of piracy; and here the admiral proved himself a rare scholar.
By some peculiar inadvertency, as he was in the middle of one of his
own adventures, his finger touched the burglar alarm. Clang! Brrrr!
From top to bottom of the house came the shock of differently voiced
bells. The two men gazed at each other dumfounded. But the girl
laughed merrily.
"You touched the alarm, father."
"I rather believe I did. And a few minutes before you came in with the
toddies I tried it and it didn't work."
It took some time to quiet the servants; and when that was done
Fitzgerald determined to go down to the village.
"Good night, Mr. Fitzgerald," said the girl. "Better beware; this
house is haunted."
"We'll see if we can't lay that ghost, as they say," he responded.
The admiral came to the door. "What do you make of it?" he whispered.
"You possibly did not press the button squarely the first time." And
that was Fitzgerald's genuine belief.
"By the way, will you take a note for me to Swan's? It will not take
me a moment to scribble it."
"Certainly."
Finally the young man found himself in the park, heading quickly toward
the gates. He searched the night keenly, but this time he neither
heard nor saw any one. Then he permitted his fancy to take short
flights. Interesting situation! To find himself a guest here, when he
had come keyed up for something strenuous! Pirates and jolly-rogers
and mysterious trespassers and silent bells, to say nothing of a
beautiful young woman with a leaning toward adventure! But the most
surprising turn was yet to come.
In the office of Swan's hotel the landlord sat snoozing peacefully
behind the desk. There was only one customer. He was a gray-haired,
ruddy-visaged old salt in white duck--at this time of year!--and a blue
sack-coat dotted with shining brass buttons, the whole five-foot-four
topped by a gold-braided officer's cap. He was drinking what is
jocularly called a "schooner" of beer, and finishing this he lurched
from the room with a rolling, hiccoughing gait, due entirely to a
wooden peg which extended from his right knee down to a highly polished
brass ferrule.
Fitzgerald awakened the landlord and gave him the admiral's note.
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