Charles Rex | Page 2

look. Saltash was wont to say that if he decided to
turn pirate he believed that Larpent would continue at his post without
the smallest change of front. To raise a protest of any sort would have
been absolutely foreign to his nature. He was made to go straight ahead,
to do his duty without question and with perfect self-reliance.
On the present occasion, having cruised from port to port in the
Mediterranean for nearly six weeks, it was certainly no ill news to him
to hear that Saltash had at last had enough. The weather was perfect,
too perfect for a man of his bull-dog instincts. He was thoroughly tired
of the endless spring sunshine and of the chattering, fashionable crowds
that Saltash was wont to assemble on the yacht. He was waiting with an
iron patience for the word that should send them forth over the great
Atlantic rollers, with the ocean spray bursting over their bows and the

sting of the ocean wind in their faces. That was the sort of life that
appealed to him. He had no use for civilization; the froth of society had
no attraction for him. He preferred a deeper draught.
Saltash was thoroughly cosmopolitan in his tastes; he liked amusement,
but he abhorred boredom. He declared that for him it was the root of all
evil. He was never really wicked unless he was bored. And then--_que
voulez-vous_? He did not guide the star of destiny.
"Yes," he said, after a thoughtful silence, "we will certainly put to sea
to-morrow--unless--" he turned his head and threw a merry grin at his
companion--"unless Fortune has any tricks up her sleeve for me, for I
am going ashore for one more fling to-night."
Larpent smoked on immovably, his blue-grey eyes staring out to the
vivid sky-line, his sunburnt face quite imperturbable.
"We shall be ready to start as soon as you come aboard, my lord," he
said.
"Good!" said Saltash lightly. "I may be late, or--more probably--very
early. Leave the gangway for me! I'll let you know when I'm aboard."
He got up as if he moved on springs and leaned against the rail, looking
down quizzically at the man who sat stolidly smoking in the deck-chair.
No two people could have formed a stronger contrast--the yacht's
captain, fair-bearded, with the features of a Viking--the yacht's owner,
dark, alert, with a certain French finesse about him that gave a strange
charm to a personality that otherwise might have been merely fantastic.
Suddenly he laughed. "Do you know, Larpent, I often think to myself
what odd tricks Fate plays? You for instance--you, the captain of a
private yacht when you ought to be roving the high seas in a Flying
Dutchman! You probably were a few generations ago."
"Ah!" Larpent said, through a cloud of smoke. "Life isn't what it was."
"It's an infernal fraud, most of it," said Saltash. "Always promising and

seldom fulfilling!"
"No good expecting too much," said Larpent.
"True!" said Saltash. "On the other hand it isn't always wise to be too
easily satisfied." His look became suddenly speculative. "Have you
ever been in love, Larpent?"
The big man in the deck-chair made a sharp movement and spilt some
cigar-ash on his coat. He sat up deliberately and brushed it off. Saltash
watched him with mischievous eyes.
"Well?" he said.
Larpent leaned back again, puffing forth a thick cloud of smoke.
"Once," he said briefly.
"Only once?" gibed Saltash. "Man alive! Why, I've had the disease
scores of times, and you are half a generation older than I am!"
"I know," Larpent's eyes dwelt unblinking upon the sparkling blue of
the water beyond the rail. "You've had it so often that you take it
lightly."
Saltash laughed. "You apparently took it like the plague."
"I didn't die of it," said Larpent grimly.
"Perhaps the lady did!" suggested Saltash.
"No. She didn't die either." Larpent's eyes came slowly upwards to the
mocking eyes above them. "For all I know she may be living now," he
said.
Saltash's grin became a grimace. "Oh, heavens, Larpent! And you've
had indigestion ever since? How long ago is it? Twenty years?"
"About that," said Larpent.

"Heavens!" said Saltash again. "I should like to see the woman who
could hold me after twenty years!"
"So should I," said Larpent dryly.
Saltash snapped his fingers. "She doesn't exist, my good fellow! But if
she did--by Jove, what a world it would be!"
Larpent grunted sardonically. "It wouldn't be large enough to hold you,
my lord."
Saltash stretched his arms wide. "Well, I'm going ashore to-night. Who
knows what the gods may send? Wish me luck!"
Larpent surveyed the restless figure with a sort of stony humour. "I
wish you a safe return," he said.
Saltash laughed and went away along