The Shadow of the East | Page 2

of a dining table with a crowd of silly fools in
between us. I reckoned I'd just about had enough of it. Came on me just
like a flash sitting in my office down town one morning, so I buzzed
home right away in the auto and told her I was sick of the whole thing
and that I wanted her to come away with me and see what real life was
like--out West or anywhere else on earth away from that durned society
crowd. I'll admit I lost my temper and did some shouting. Nina couldn't
see it from my point of view.
"My God, Jermyn! I should think not," drawled a sleepy voice from the
third chair, and a short, immensely stout man struggled up into a sitting
position, mopping his forehead vigorously. "You've the instincts of a
Turk rather than of an enlightened American citizen. You've not seen
my sister-in-law yet, Mr. Craven," he turned to the Englishman. "She's
a peach! Smartest little girl in N'York. Leader of society--dollars no
object--small wonder she didn't fall in with Jermyn's prehistoric notions.
You're a cave man, elder brother--I put my money on Nina every time.
Hell! isn't it hot?" He sank down again full length, flapping his
handkerchief feebly at a persistent mosquito.
"We argued for a week," resumed Jermyn Atherton when his brother's
sleepy drawl subsided, "and didn't seem to get any further on. At last I
lost my temper completely and decided to clear out alone if Nina
wouldn't come with me. Leslie was not doing anything at the time, so I
persuaded him to come along too."
Leslie Atherton sat up again with a jerk.
"Persuaded!" he exploded, "A dam' queer notion of persuasion.
Shanghaied, I call it. Ran me to earth at the club at five o'clock, and we
sailed at eight. If my man hadn't been fond of the sea and keen on the
trip himself, I should have left America for a cruise round the world in
the clothes I stood up in--and Jermyn's duds would be about as useful
to me as a suit of reach-me-downs off the line. Persuasion? Shucks!

Jermyn thought it was kind of funny to start right off on an ocean trip at
a moment's notice and show Nina he didn't care a durn. Crazy notion of
humour." He lay back languidly and covered his face with a large silk
handkerchief.
Barry Craven turned toward his host with amused curiosity in his grey
eyes.
"Well?" He asked at length.
Atherton returned his look with a slightly embarrassed smile.
"It hasn't been so blamed funny after all," he said quietly. "A Chinese
coffin-ship from 'Frisco would be hilarious compared with this trip,"
rapped a sarcastic voice from behind the silk handkerchief.
"I've felt a brute ever since we lost sight of Sandy Hook," continued
Atherton, looking away toward the twinkling lights on shore, "and as
soon as we put in here I couldn't stand it any longer, so I cabled to Nina
that I was returning at once. I'm quite prepared to eat humble pie and
all the rest of it--in fact I shall relish it," with a sudden shy laugh.
His brother heaved his vast bulk clear of the deck chair with a mighty
effort.
"Humble pie! Huh!" he snorted contemptuously. "She'll kill the fatted
calf and put a halo of glory round your head and invite in all the
neighbours 'for this my prodigal husband has returned to me!'" He
ducked with surprising swiftness to avoid a book that Atherton hurled
at his head and shook a chubby forefinger at him reprovingly.
"Don't assault the only guide, philosopher and friend you've got who
has the courage to tell you a few home truths. Say, Jermyn, d'y'know
why I finally consented to come on this crazy cruise, anyway? Because
Nina got me on the phone while you were hammering away at me at
the club and ordered me to go right along with you and see you didn't
do any dam foolishness. Oh, she's got me to heel right enough. Well! I
guess I'll turn in and get to sleep before those fool engines start

chump-chumping under my pillow. You boys will want a pow-wow to
your two selves; there are times when three is a crowd. Good-bye, Mr.
Craven, pleased to have met you. Hope to see you in the Adirondacks
next summer--a bit more crowded than the Rockies, which are Jermyn's
Mecca, but more home comforts--appeal to a man of my build." He
slipped away with the noiseless tread that is habitual to heavy men.
Jermyn Atherton looked after his retreating figure and laughed
uproariously.
"Isn't he the darndest? A clam is communicative compared with Leslie.
Fancy him having that card up his sleeve all the while. Nina's