Charles Rex | Page 6

everything in life to
learn, and he did not propose to be her teacher.
His cigarette was finished and he got up. The yacht was speeding like a
winged thing on her way. There was never any fuss of departure when
Larpent was in command. He stood for a few seconds in indecision,
contemplating going up on to the bridge for a word with his captain and
a glance round. But some fantastic scruple deterred him. He had made
his farewell. He did not wish to see Valrosa again. He turned instead
and went to his cabin.

All the appointments of the yacht were of the most luxurious order. She
possessed every imaginable contrivance for the comfort of those who
voyaged in her. Her state-cabins were a miracle of elegance and ease.
Saltash never took a valet when he went for a voyage. The steward
attended to his clothes, and he waited on himself. He liked as much
space as he could get both on deck and below.
He pushed open the door of his cabin and felt for the switch of the
electric light. But he did not press it when he found it. Something made
him change his mind. The faint light of stars upon rippling water came
to him through the open porthole, and he shut himself in and stepped
forward to the couch beneath it to look forth.
But as he moved, another influence caught him, and he stopped short.
"Is anyone here?" he said.
Through the wash of the water he thought he heard a light movement,
and he felt a presence as of some small animal in the space before him.
Swiftly he stepped back and in a moment his hand was on the switch.
The light flashed on, and in a moment he stood staring--at a fair-haired,
white-faced lad in a brown livery with brass buttons who stood staring
back at him with wide, scared eyes.

CHAPTER III
THE GIFT
Saltash was the first to recover himself; he was seldom disconcerted,
never for long.
"Hullo!" he said, with a quizzical twist of the eyebrows. "You, is it?
And what have you come for?"
The intruder lowered his gaze abruptly, flushing to the roots of his fair

hair. "I came," he said, in a very low voice, "to--to ask you something."
"Then you've come some distance to do it," said Saltash lightly, "for I
never turn back. Perhaps that was your idea, was it?"
"No--no!" With a vehement shake of the head he made answer. "I didn't
think you would start so soon. I thought--I would be able to ask you
first."
"Oh, indeed!" said Saltash. And then unexpectedly he laid a hand upon
one narrow shoulder and turned the downcast face upwards. "Ah! I
thought he'd marked you, the swine! What was he drubbing you for?
Tell me that!"
A great purple bruise just above one eye testified to the severity of the
drubbing; the small, boyish countenance quivered sensitively under his
look. With sudden impulse two trembling hands closed tightly upon his
arm.
"Well?" said Saltash.
"Oh, please, sir--please, my lord, I mean--" with great earnestness the
words came--"let me stay with you! I'll earn my keep somehow, and I
shan't take up much room!"
"Oh, that's the idea, is it?" said Saltash.
"Yes--yes!" The boy's eyes implored him,--blue eyes with short black
lashes that imparted an oddly childish look to a face that was otherwise
thin and sharp with anxiety. "I can do anything. I don't want to live on
charity. I can work. I'd love to work--for you."
"You're a rum little devil, aren't you?" said Saltash.
"I'm honest, sir! Really I'm honest!" Desperately the bony hands clung.
"You won't be sorry if you take me. I swear you'll never be sorry!"
"What about you?" said Saltash. He was looking down into the
upraised face with a semi-quizzical compassion in his own. "Think

you'd never be sorry either?"
A sudden smile gleamed across the drawn face. "Of course I shouldn't!
You're English."
"Ah!" said Saltash, with a faintly wry expression. "Not necessarily
white on that account, my friend, so don't run away with that idea, I beg!
I'm quite capable of giving you a worse drubbing than the good
Antonio, for instance, if you qualified for it. I can be a terrifically wild
beast upon occasion. Look here, you imp! Are you starved or what? Do
you want something to eat?"
The wiry fingers tightened on his arm. "No, sir--no, my lord--not really.
I often don't eat. I'm used to it."
"But why the devil not?" demanded Saltash. "Didn't they feed you over
there?"
"Yes--oh, yes. But I didn't want it. I was--too miserable." The blue eyes
blinked rapidly under his look as if half-afraid of him.
"You little ass!" said Saltash