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Page 39
"Two of the young officers from the Depot, sir--Mr. Harrison and
Mr. Sinclair--and Mr. Hamar Lessingham."
"Lessingham, eh?" Sir Henry repeated, as he seated himself before
his writing-table. "Mills," he added, in a confidential whisper,
"what port did you serve?"
The butler's expression was one of conscious rectitude.
"Not the vintage, sir," he announced with emphasis. "Some very
excellent wood port, which we procured for shooting luncheons.
The young gentlemen like it."
"You're a jewel, Mills," his master declared. "Now you understand
--an aperitif for me now, some whisky for Jimmy in your room, and
not a word about my being here. Good night, Jimmy. Sorry we were
too late for the mackerel, but we had some grand sport, all the same.
You'll have a day or two's rest ashore now."
"Aye, aye, sir!" Dumble replied. "We got in just in time. There's
something more than a squall coming up nor'ards."
Sir Henry listened for a moment. The French windows shook, the rain
beat against the panes, and a dull booming of wind was clearly
audible from outside.
"We timed that excellently," he agreed. "Come up and have a chat
to-morrow, Jimmy, if your wife will spare you."
"I'll be round before eleven, sir," the fisherman promised, with a
grin.
Sir Henry waited for the closing of the door. Then he leaned forward
for several moments. He had scarcely the appearance of a man returned
from a week or two of open-air life and indulgence in the sport he
loved best. The healthy tan of his complexion was lessened rather
than increased. There were black lines under his eyes which seemed
to speak of sleepless nights, and a beard of several days' growth
was upon his chin. He drank the cocktail which Mills presently
brought him, at a gulp, and watched with satisfaction while the mixer
was vigorously shaken and a second one poured out.
"We've had a rough time, Mills," he observed, as he set down the
glass. "Until this morning it scarcely left off blowing."
"I'm sorry to hear it, sir," was the respectful reply. "If I may
be allowed to say so, sir, you're looking tired."
"I am tired," Sir Henry admitted. "I think, if I tried, I could go
to sleep now for twenty-four hours."
"You will pardon my reminding you, so far as regards your letters,
that there is no post out tonight, sir," Mills proceeded. "I have
prepared a warm bath and laid out your clothes for a change."
"Capital!" Sir Henry exclaimed. "It isn't a letter that's bothering
me, though, Mills. There are just a few geographical notes I want
to make. You know, I'm trying to improve the fishermen's chart of
the coast round here. That fellow Groocock--Jimmy Dumble's uncle
--very nearly lost his motor boat last week through trusting to the
old one."
"Just so, sir," Mills replied deferentially, placing the empty glass
upon his tray. "If you'll excuse me, sir, I must get back to the
dining room."
"Quite right," his master assented. "They won't be out just yet,
will they?"
"Her ladyship will probably be rising in about ten minutes, sir
--not before that."
Sir Henry nodded a little impatiently. Directly the door was closed
he rose to his feet, stood for a moment listening by the side of his
fishing cabinet, then opened the glass front and touched the spring.
With the aid of a little electric torch which he took from his
pocket, he studied particularly a certain portion of the giant chart,
made some measurements with a pencil, some notes in the margin, and
closed it up again with an air of satisfaction. Then he resumed his
seat, drew a folded slip of paper from his breast pocket, a chart
from another, turned up the lamp and began to write. His face, as
he stooped low, escaped the soft shade and was for a moment almost
ghastly. Every now and then he turned and made some calculations on
the blotting-paper by his side. At last he leaned back with a little
sigh of relief. He had barely done so before the door behind him
was opened.
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