The Chauffeur and the Chaperon | Page 9

cleaning--eleven o'clock," muttered Phil, having just saved herself from a tumble. I thought so too; but then we'd been in Holland only a few hours. We hadn't yet realized the relative importance of certain affairs of life, according to a Dutchwoman's point of view.
We glared reproachfully at the stout child, as much as to say, "Why don't you finish your swabbing at a proper hour?" She glared at us as if she would have demanded, "What the (Dutch) Dickens do you mean by bouncing in and upsetting my arrangements?"
Little was accomplished on either side by this skirmishing; so I put my pride in my pocket and inquired for her master.
"Boot," replied the creature. "Boot," pointing with her mop in the direction whence we had come.
We understood by this that the caretaker was at his post, and we returned to shout the name of Heer Paasma.
Nothing happened at first; but after several spasmodic repetitions a blue silk curtain flickered at one of the cabin windows on "Lorelei," and a little, old, brown face, with a fringe of fluff round the chin, appeared in the aperture--a walnut of a face, with a pair of shrewd, twinkling eyes, and a pipe in a slit of a mouth. Another call brought on deck a figure which matched the face; and on deck Mr. Paasma (it looked like a gnome, but it could be no other than the caretaker) evidently intended to remain until he got a satisfactory explanation.

III
"Are you Heer Paasma?" I inquired from my distance.
The walnut nodded.
"Do you speak English?"
Out came the pipe. "Ja, a leetle."
"We're Miss Rivers and Miss Van Buren, from England. I'm Miss Van Buren. You have heard about me, and that Captain Noble left me his motor-boat in his will."
"No, I not heerd." A dark flush slowly turned the sharp little walnut face to mahogany.
"How strange! I thought the solicitor would have written. But perhaps it wasn't necessary. Anyway, I have all the papers to prove that the boat is mine. You did know poor Captain Noble was dead, surely?"
"Ja, I hear that."
"Well, if you'll put a plank across, we'll come on board, and I'll show you my papers and explain everything."
"I come on shore," said Mr. Paasma.
"No, we would rather----"
I might have saved my breath. Mr. Paasma was Dutch, and he had made up his mind what would be best. The rest goes without saying. He seized one of the ropes, hauled the boat closer to shore, and sprang onto the bank.
There was a strange glitter in his eye. I supposed it to be the bleak glint of suspicion, and hastened to reassure the excellent man by producing my papers, pointing out paragraphs which I placed conspicuously under his nose, in our copy of Captain Noble's will, and the letters I had received from the solicitor.
"You see," I said at last, "everything is all right. You need have no hesitation in giving the boat to me."
[Illustration: "You need have no hesitation in giving the boat to me"]
Mr. Paasma puffed at his pipe, which he held very tight between his teeth, and stared at the papers without looking up.
"If you like, you can apply to your lawyer, if you have one," I went on, seeing that he was far from easy in his mind. "I'm quite willing to meet him. Besides"--I had suddenly a brilliant idea--"I have relations in Rotterdam. Their name is the same as mine--van Buren. Perhaps you have heard of Heer Robert van Buren?"
"Ja," replied Mr. Paasma, biting his pipe still harder. Instead of looking happy, his face grew so troubled that I wondered whether my mention of these unknown relatives had been unfortunate--whether, by any chance, a member of the family had lately committed some crime. Meanwhile, Phyllis stared. For my own reasons I had refrained from speaking to her of these relations; now, urged by necessity, I brought them to light; but what they might be, or whether they still existed in Rotterdam I knew no more than did Phil.
"Mynheer van Buren is a known man," said the caretaker. "You not send for him. I think the boat is to you, missus. What you want do?"
"First of all, we want to go on board and look at her," I replied.
This time, rather to my surprise, he made no objections. A dark pall of resignation had fallen upon him. In such a mood as his, an Indian woman would go to Suttee without a qualm. He pulled the boat to shore, placed a plank, and with a thrilling pride of possession we walked on board.
There were some steep steps which led down from the deck to the cabin, and Phyllis and I descended, Mr. Paasma stolidly following, with an extraordinary expression on his walnut face. It was not exactly despairing, or defiant, or angry, or