The Sign of the Seven Sins
the first moment that we went on board all was gay, all luxurious, for
were we not guests of a man who, although absurdly economical himself,
was always lavish when he entertained? Everyone was loud in praise of
the magnificent appointments of the vessel, and dinner, at which its
owner presided, was a merry function.
I was placed next Lord Eldersfield, a pleasant, middle-aged, gray-eyed
man, who had recently left the army on succeeding to the title. He was,
I found, quite an entertaining companion, full of droll stories and
clever witticisms; indeed, he shone at once as the conversationalist of
the table.
“Have I been in Algiers before?” he repeated, in answer to a question
from me. “Oh, yes. It’s a place where one half the people don’t know
the other half.”
I smiled and wondered. Yet his brief description was, I afterwards
discovered, very true. The Arabs and the Europeans live apart and are
like oil and water, they never mix.
The days passed gayly, and were it not for constant thoughts of that
man who had loved me and forgotten I should have enjoyed myself.
Save for one day of mistral the trip across the Mediterranean proved
delightful, and for six days we remained in the white old City of the
Corsairs, where we went on excursions and had a most pleasant time.
We visited the Kasbah, drove to the Jardin d’Essai and to the pretty
village of St. Eugène, while several of the party went to visit friends
who were staying at the big hotels up at Mustapha. Life in Algiers was,
I found, most interesting after the Parisian artificiality and glitter
of Nice and Monte Carlo, and with Lord Eldersfield as my cavalier we
saw all that was worth seeing. We lounged in those gay French cafés
under the date-palms in the Place du Gouvernement, strolled up those
narrow, ladder-like streets in the old city, or mingled with those
crowds of mysterious-looking veiled Arab women who were bargaining for
their purchases in the market. All was fresh, all diverting.
As for Ulrica, she entered thoroughly into the spirit of the thing,
as she always did, and with Gerald usually as her escort went hither
and thither with her true tourist habit of poking about everywhere,
regardless of contagious diseases or the extensive variety of bad
smells which invariably exists in an Oriental town. Although each day
the party went ashore and enjoyed themselves, old Mr. Keppel never
accompanied them. He knew the place, he said, and had some business
affairs to attend to in the deck-house which he kept sacred to himself.
Therefore he was excused.
“No, Miss Rosselli,” he had explained to me in confidence, “I’m no
sight-seer. If my guests enjoy seeing a few of the towns on the
Mediterranean I am quite contented, but I prefer to remain quiet here
rather than to be driving about in brakes and revisiting places that I
have already visited long ago.”
“Certainly,” I said. “You are under no obligation to these people. They
accept your kind hospitality, and the least they can do is to allow you
to remain in peace when you wish.”
“Yes,” he sighed. “I leave them in Gerald’s charge. He knows how to
look after them.”
And his face seemed sad and anxious, as though he were utterly forlorn.
Indeed, after a week at sea we saw but little of him. He lunched and
dined with us in the saloon each day, but never joined our musical
parties after dinner, and seldom, if ever, entered the smoking-room.
All knew him to be eccentric, therefore this apparent disregard for our
presence was looked upon as one of his peculiar habits. Upon Gerald
devolved the duty of acting as entertainer, and assisted by Ulrica,
myself, and old Miss Keppel he endeavored to make every one happy and
comfortable. Fortunately, the ubiquitous Barnes had by Gerald’s urgent
desire been left behind at the Villa Fabron.
As day by day we steamed up that blue, tranquil sea in brilliant
weather, with our bows ever set in the track of dawn, life was one
continual round of merriment from three bells, when we breakfasted,
until eight bells sounded for turning in. A yachting cruise is very apt
to become monotonous, but on the Vispera one had no time for ennui.
After Algiers we put in for a day at Cagliari, then visited Tunis, the
Greek islands, Athens, Smyrna, and Constantinople.
We had already been five weeks cruising--and five weeks in the
Mediterranean in spring are delightful--when one night an incident
occurred which was both mysterious and disconcerting. We were on our
way from Constantinople, and in the first dog-watch had sighted one of
the rocky headlands of Corsica. That evening dinner had been followed
by an impromptu dance which had proved a most successful affair. The
men were mostly dancers, except Lord Stoneborough, who was inclined to
obesity; and with the piano and a couple of violins played by a pair
of rather insipid sisters the dance was quite a jolly one. We even
persuaded old Mr. Keppel to dance, and although his was not a very
graceful terpischorean feat, nevertheless his participation in our fun
put every one in an exceedingly good humor.
Of course, the time had not passed without the usual gossip and
tittle-tattle which are inseparable from a yachting cruise. On board a
yacht people become quickly inventive, and the most astounding fictions
about one’s neighbors are whispered behind fans and books. I had heard
whispers regarding Ulrica and Gerald Keppel. Rumor had it that the old
gentleman had actually given his consent to their marriage, and as
soon as they returned to America the engagement would be announced.
Certain of the guests, with an air of extreme confidence, took me aside
and questioned me regarding it, but I merely responded that I knew
nothing and greatly doubted the accuracy of the rumor. More than once
that evening I had been asked whether it were true, and so persistent
seemed the rumor that I took Ulrica into my cabin and asked her
point-blank.
“My dear,” she cried, “have you really taken leave of your senses? How
absurd! Of course there’s nothing whatever between myself and Gerald.
He is amusing, that’s all.”
“You might do worse than marry him,” I laughed. “Remember, you’ve known
him a long time--four years, isn’t it?”
“Marry him! Never! Go and tell those prying persons, whoever they are,
that when I’m engaged I’ll put a paragraph in the papers all in good
time.”
“But don’t you think, Ulrica,” I suggested--“don’t you think that if
such is the case Gerald is rather too much in your society?”
“I can’t help him hanging around me, poor boy,” she laughed. “I can’t
be rude to him.”
That night I turned and turned in my narrow berth, but could not sleep.
The atmosphere seemed stifling in spite of the ventilators, and I
dare not open the port-hole, fearing a sudden douche, for a wind had
sprung up and we were rolling heavily. The jingle of the glasses on
the toilet-stand, the vibration, the throbbing of the machinery, the
tramping of the sailors overhead, the roar of the funnels, all rendered
sleep utterly impossible.
At last, however, I could stand it no longer, and, rising, I dressed,
putting on a big driving-coat, with a thick shawl about my head, and
went up on deck. The fresh air might perhaps do me good, I thought. At
any rate, it was a remedy worth trying.
The night, so brilliant a couple of hours before, had become dark and
stormy, the wind was so boisterous that I walked with difficulty,
and the fact that the awnings had been reefed showed that Davis, the
skipper, anticipated a squall.
The deck was deserted. Only on the bridge could I see, above the strip
of sheltering canvas, two shadowy figures in oilskins keeping watch
ahead. Save for those heads I was utterly alone. On my way towards
the stern I passed the small deck-house which old Mr. Keppel reserved
as his own den. The green-silk blinds were always drawn across the
port-holes and the door always remained locked. No one ever entered
there, although many had been the speculations regarding the private
cabin when we had first sailed.
The millionaire himself had, however, given an explanation one day at
luncheon.
“I always reserve, both in my houses and here on board the Vispera, one
room as my own. I hope all of you will excuse me this. As you know, I
have a good many affairs to attend to, and I hate to have my papers
thrown into disorder.”
Personally, I suspected him of having a lathe there and of pursuing his
hobby of ivory-turning, but the majority of the guests accepted his
explanation that this deck-house was his study, and that he did not
wish them to pry there.
More than once Ulrica had expressed to me wonder regarding the reason
the cabin remained always closed and its curtains always drawn. Every
woman dearly loves a mystery, and, like myself, Ulrica, when she
discovered anything suspicious, never rested until she had formed some
theory or other.
She had one day mentioned the fact to Gerald, who in my presence had
given what appeared to me the true explanation.
“It’s merely one of the guv’nor’s eccentricities. The fact is that
on the outward voyage from New York he bought some antique Moorish
furniture and ivory carving in Tangier and has it stored in there until
we return. I’ve seen it myself--beautiful things. He says he intends to
sell them at a profit to a dealer in London,” whereat we laughed.
Knowing how the old gentleman practised economy sometimes, I had
accepted this as the truth.
But as, gripping the rail to prevent being thrown down by the rolling
of the ship, I passed along the side of the deck-house I was surprised
to see a light within. The curtains of green silk were still drawn, but
the light could, nevertheless, be seen through them, and it seemed to
me strange that any one should be there at that hour of the night. I
placed my face close to the screwed-down port-hole, but the curtain had
been so well drawn that it was impossible to see within. Then, moving
quietly, I examined the other three round, brass-bound windows, but all
were as closely curtained as the first.
I fancied I heard voices as I stood there and tried to distinguish the
words, but the roar of the funnels and howling of the wind drowned
every other sound.
What if my host caught me prying? His private affairs were surely no
business of mine, therefore I was about to turn away, when suddenly
I experienced an extraordinary desire to peep inside that forbidden
chamber. I walked around it again stealthily, for fortunately I was in
thin slippers.
While standing there in hesitation I noticed that upon the low roof was
a small ventilator which had been raised to admit air. What if I could
get a peep down there? It was an adventurous climb for a woman hampered
by skirts as I was; but I searched for means to mount, and found them
in a low iron staple to which some cords of the rigging were attached
and a brass rail which afforded rather insecure foothold. After some
effort I succeeded in scrambling to the top, but not before I found
myself beneath the eye of the officer on the bridge. Fortunately I was
behind him, but if he had occasion to turn towards the stern he must
discover me.
Having risked so much, however, I was determined to make further
endeavors, and leaning across the small roof I placed my face close to
the open ventilator and peered down into the locked cabin.
Next second I drew back with a start, holding my breath. A loud
exclamation of dismay escaped me, but the sound was swallowed up in the
noises of the boisterous night.
The sight I witnessed below me in that small deck-house held me rigid
as one petrified.
CHAPTER XIII
DISCLOSES A MILLIONAIRE’S SECRET
So heavily was the yacht rolling that I was compelled to hold firmly,
lest I should lose my balance and roll down upon the deck.