Mysterious Mr. Sabin by E. Phillips Oppenheim (read novel full .TXT) 📖

away, stopped short. “You had nothing to do with these New Yorkers and their broken-down yacht.”

Mr. Sabin finished lighting a cigarette which he had taken from his case, and, passing his arm through the captain’s, drew him a little further away from the gangway.

“I’m afraid I had,” he said. “As a matter of fact they are not New Yorkers, and they are not husband and wife. They are simply agents in the pay of the German secret police.”

“What, spies!” the captain exclaimed.

Mr. Sabin nodded.

“Exactly!”

The captain was still incredulous. “Do you mean to tell me,” he exclaimed, “that charming little woman is not an American at all?—that she is a fraud?”

“There isn’t a shadow of a doubt about it,” Mr. Sabin replied. “They have both tacitly admitted it. As a matter of fact I am in treaty now to buy them over. They were on the point of accepting my terms when these fellows boarded us. Whether they will do so now I cannot tell. I saw that fellow Graisheim talking to the man just before they left the vessel.”

“You are safe while you are on my ship, Mr. Sabin,” the captain said firmly. “I shall watch that fellow Watson closely, and if he gives me the least chance, I will have him put in irons. Confound the man and his plausible——”

They were interrupted by the deck steward, who came with a message from Mrs. Watson. She was making tea on deck—might she have the loan of the captain’s table, and would they come?

The captain gave the necessary assent, but was on the point of declining the invitation. “I don’t want to go near the people,” he said.

“On the other hand,” Mr. Sabin objected, “I do not want them to think, at present at any rate, that I have told you who they are. You had better come.”

They crossed the deck to a sunny little corner behind one of the boats, where Mrs. Watson had just completed her preparation for tea.

She greeted them gaily and chatted to them while they waited for the kettle to boil, but to Mr. Sabin’s observant eyes there was a remarkable change in her. Her laughter was forced and she was very pale.

Several times Mr. Sabin caught her watching him in an odd way as though she desired to attract his attention, but Mr. Watson, who for once had seemed to desert the smoking-room, remained by her side like a shadow. Mr. Sabin felt that his presence was ominous. The tea was made and handed round.

Mr. Watson sent away the deck steward, who was preparing to wait upon them, and did the honours himself. He passed the sugar to the captain and stood before Mr. Sabin with the sugar-tongs in his hand.

“Sugar?” he inquired, holding out a lump.

Mr. Sabin took sugar, and was on the point of holding out his cup. Just then he chanced to glance across to Mrs. Watson. Her eyes were dilated and she seemed to be on the point of springing from her chair. Meeting his glance she shook her head, and then bent over her hot water apparatus.

“No sugar, thanks,” Mr. Sabin answered. “This tea looks too good to spoil by any additions. One of the best things I learned in Asia was to take my tea properly. Help yourself, Mr. Watson.”

Mr. Watson rather clumsily dropped the piece of sugar which he had been holding out to Mr. Sabin, and the ship giving a slight lurch just at that moment, it rolled down the deck and apparently into the sea. With a little remark as to his clumsiness he resumed his seat.

Mr. Sabin looked into his tea and across to Mrs. Watson. The slightest of nods was sufficient for him. He drank it off and asked for some more.

The tea party on the whole was scarcely a success. The Captain was altogether upset and quite indisposed to be amiable towards people who had made a dupe of him. Mrs. Watson seemed to be suffering from a state of nervous excitement, and her husband was glum and silent. Mr. Sabin alone appeared to be in good spirits, and he talked continually with his customary ease and polish.

The Captain did not stay very long, and upon his departure Mr. Sabin also rose.

“Am I to have the pleasure of taking you for a little walk, Mrs. Watson?” he asked.

She looked doubtfully at the tall, glum figure by her side, and her face was almost haggard.

“I’m afraid—I think—I think—Mr. Watson has just asked me to walk with him,” she said, lamely; “we must have our stroll later on.”

“I shall be ready and delighted at any time,” Mr. Sabin answered with a bow.

“We are going to have a moon to-night; perhaps you may be tempted to walk after dinner.”

He ignored the evident restraint of both the man and the woman and strolled away. Having nothing in particular to do he went into his deck cabin to dress a little earlier than usual, and when he had emerged the dinner gong had not yet sounded.

The deck was quite deserted, and lighting a cigarette d’appetit, he strolled past the scene of their tea-party. A dark object under the boat attracted his attention. He stooped down and looked at it. Thomas, the ship’s cat, was lying there stiff and stark, and by the side of his outstretched tongue a lump of sugar.

CHAPTER XLVI MR. WATSON IS ASTONISHED

At dinner-time Mr. Sabin was the most silent of the little quartette who occupied the head of the table. The captain, who had discovered that notwithstanding their stoppage they had made a very fair day’s run, and had just noticed a favourable change in the wind, was in a better humour, and on the whole was disposed to feel satisfied with himself for the way he had repulsed the captain of the Kaiser Wilhelm. He departed from his usual custom so far as to drink a glass of Mr. Sabin’s champagne, having first satisfied himself as to the absence of any probability of fog. Mr. Watson, too, was making an effort to appear amiable, and his wife, though her colour seemed a trifle hectic and her laughter not altogether natural, contributed her share to the conversation. Mr. Sabin alone was curiously silent and distant. Many times he had escaped death by what seemed almost a fluke; more often than most men he had been at least in danger of losing it. But this last adventure had made a distinct and deep impression upon him. He had not seriously believed that the man Watson was prepared to go to such lengths; he recognised for the first time his extreme danger. Then as regards the woman he was genuinely puzzled. He owed her his life, he could not doubt it. She had given him the warning by which he had profited, and she had given it him behind his companion’s back. He was strongly inclined to believe in her. Still, she was doubtless in fear of the man. Her whole appearance denoted it. She was still, without doubt, his tool, willing or unwilling.

They lingered longer than usual over their dessert. It was noticeable that throughout their conversation all mention of the events of the day was excluded. A casual remark of Mr. Watson’s the captain had ignored. There was an obvious inclination to avoid the subject. The captain was on the qui vive all the time, and he promptly quashed any embarrassing remark. So far as Mrs. Watson was concerned there was certainly no fear of her exhibiting any curiosity. It was hard to believe that she was the same woman who had virtually taken the conversation into her own hands on the previous evening, and had talked to them so well and so brightly. She sat there, white and cowed, looking a great deal at Mr. Sabin with sad, far-away eyes, and seldom originating a remark. Mr. Watson, on the contrary, talked incessantly, in marked contrast to his previous silence; he drank no wine, but seemed in the best of spirits. Only once did he appear at a loss, and that was when the captain, helping himself to some nuts, turned towards Mr. Sabin and asked a question—

“I wonder, Mr. Sabin, whether you ever heard of an Indian nut called, I believe, the Fakella? They say that an oil distilled from its kernel is the most deadly poison in the world.”

“I have both heard of it and seen it,” Mr. Sabin answered. “In fact, I may say, that I have tasted it—on the tip of my finger.”

“And yet,” the captain remarked, laughing, “you are alive.”

“And yet I am alive,” Mr. Sabin echoed. “But there is nothing very wonderful in that. I am poison-proof.”

Mr. Watson was in the act of raising a hastily filled glass to his lips when his eyes met Mr. Sabin’s. He set it down hurriedly, white to the lips. He knew, then! Surely there must be something supernatural about the man. A conviction of his own absolute impotence suddenly laid hold of him. He was completely shaken. Of what use were the ordinary weapons of his kind against an antagonist such as this? He knew nothing of the silent evidence against him on deck. He could only attribute Mr. Sabin’s foreknowledge of what had been planned against him to the miraculous. He stumbled to his feet, and muttering something about some cigars, left his place. Mrs. Watson rose almost immediately afterwards. As she turned to walk down the saloon she dropped her handkerchief. Mr. Sabin, who had risen while she passed out, stooped down and picked it up. She took it with a smile of thanks and whispered in his ear—

“Come on deck with me quickly; I want to speak to you.”

He obeyed, turning round and making some mute sign to the captain. She walked swiftly up the stairs after a frightened glance down the corridor to their state-rooms. A fresh breeze blew in their faces as they stepped out on deck, and Mr. Sabin glanced at her bare neck and arms.

“You will be cold,” he said. “Let me fetch you a wrap.”

“Don’t leave me,” she exclaimed quickly. “Walk to the side of the steamer. Don’t look behind.”

Mr. Sabin obeyed. Directly she was sure that they were really beyond earshot of any one she laid her hand upon his arm.

“I am going to ask you a strange question,” she said. “Don’t stop to think what it means, but answer me at once. Where are you going to sleep to-night—in your state-room or in the deck cabin?”

He started a little, but answered without hesitation—

“In my deck cabin.”

“Then don’t,” she exclaimed quickly. “Say that you are going to if you are asked, mind that. Sit up on deck, out of sight, all night, stay with the captain—anything—but don’t sleep there, and whatever you may see don’t be surprised, and please don’t think too badly of me.”

He was surprised to see that her cheeks were burning and her eyes were wet. He laid his hand tenderly upon her arm.

“I will promise that at any rate,” he said.

“And you will remember what I have told you?”

“Most certainly,” he promised. “Your warnings are not things to be disregarded.”

She drew a quick little breath and looked nervously over her shoulders.

“I am afraid,” he said kindly, “that you are not well to-day. Has that fellow been frightening or ill-using you?”

Her face was very close to his, and he fancied that he could hear her teeth chattering. She was obviously terrified.

“We must not be talking too seriously,” she murmured. “He may be here at any moment. I want you to remember that there is a price set upon you and he means to earn it. He would have killed you before, but he wants to avoid detection. You had better tell the captain everything. Remember, you must