The Vultures | Page 8

followed in a second cab,
carried some parcels, presumably of refreshments. These grave
gentlemen were, it appeared, about to enjoy a picnic at the Signal
House--possibly a tea-picnic in the Russian fashion.
The afternoon was fine, and the gentlemen walked in the garden at the
back of the house. They were walking thus when another cab stopped at
the closed iron gate, and the banker hurried, as fast as his build would
allow, to open the side door and admit a seafaring man, who seemed to
know his bearings.
"Well, mister," he said, in a Northern voice, "another of your little
jobs?"
The two men shook hands, and the banker paid the cabman. When the
vehicle had gone the host turned to his guest and replied to the
question.
"Yes, my fren'," he said, "another of my little jobs. I hope you are well,
Captain Cable?"
But Captain Cable was not a man to waste words over the social
conventions. He was obviously well--as well as a hard, seafaring life
will make a man who lives simply and works hard. He was a short man,
with a red face washed very clean, and very well shaven, except for a
little piece of beard left fantastically at the base of his chin. His eyes
were blue and bright, like gimlets. He may have had a soft heart, but it
was certainly hidden beneath a hard exterior. He wore a thick coat of
blue pilot-cloth, not because the July day was cold, but because it was
his best coat. His hat was carefully brushed and of hard, black felt. It
had perhaps been the height of fashion in Sunderland five years earlier.
He wore no gloves--Captain Cable drew the line there. As for the rest,
he had put on that which he called his shore-going rig.
"And yourself?" he answered, mechanically.
"I am very well, thank you," replied the polite banker, who, it will have
been perceived, was nameless to Captain Cable, as he is to the reader.
The truth being that his name was so absurdly and egregiously Russian
that the plain English tongue never embarked on that sea of consonants.
"It is an affair, as usual. My friends are here to meet you, but I think

they do not speak English, except your colleague, the other captain,
who speaks a little--a very little."
As he spoke he led the way to the garden, where three gentlemen were
awaiting them.
"This is Captain Cable," he said, and the three gentlemen raised their
hats, much to the captain's discomfiture. He did not hold by foreign
ways; but he dragged his hat off and then expectorated on the lawn, just
to show that he felt quite at home. He even took the lead in the
conversation.
"Tell 'em," he said, "that I'm a plain man from Sun'land that has a
speciality, an' that's transshipping cargo at sea, but me hands are clean."
He held them out and they were not, so he must have spoken
metaphorically.
The banker translated, addressing himself to one of his companions,
rather markedly and with much deference.
"You're speakin' French," interrupted Captain Cable.
"Yes, my fren', I am. Do you know French?"
"Not me," returned Captain Cable, affably. "They're all one to me.
They're all damn nonsense."
He was, it seemed, that which is called in these days of blatant
patriotism a thorough Englishman, or a true Blue, according to the
social station of the speaker.
The gentleman to whom the translation had been addressed smiled. He
was a tall and rather distinguished-looking man, with bushy white hair
and mustache. His features were square-cut and strong. His eyes were
dark, and he had an easy smile. He led the way to some chairs which
had been placed near a table at the far end of the lawn beneath a
cedar-tree, and his manner had something faintly regal in it, as if in his
daily life he had always been looked up to and obeyed without
question.
"Tell him that we also are plain men with clean hands," he said.
And the banker replied:
"Oui, mon Prince."
But the interpretation was taken out of his mouth by one of the others,
the youngest of the group--a merry-eyed youth, with a fluffy, fair
mustache and close-cropped, flaxen hair.
"My father," he said, in perfect English, "says that we also are plain

men, and that your hands will not be hurt by touching ours."
He held out his hand as he spoke, and refused to withdraw it until it had
been grasped, rather shame-facedly, by Captain Cable, who did not like
these effusive foreign ways, but, nevertheless, rather liked the young
man.
The banker ranged the chairs round the table, and the oddly assorted
group seated themselves. The man who had not yet