The Wheel O Fortune | Page 7

probably offer him,
and be thankful for it. Hence, the pseudonym rather soothed his pride.
Von Kerber placed the Arabic scrawl under a paperweight. He was a
man who plumed himself on a gift of accurate divination. Such a belief
is fatal. For the third time that day, he misunderstood the Englishman's
hesitancy.
"What's in a name?" he quoted, smilingly. "Suppose I continue to call
you King? It is short, and easily remembered, and your English names
puzzle me more than your language, which is difficult enough, yes?"
"Then we can leave it at that," agreed Royson.
"I thought so. Well, to come to business. What can you do?"
"It would be better, perhaps, if you told me what you want me to do."
"Can you ride?"
"Yes."
"Have you ever been to sea?"
Royson pricked up his ears at this. "The sea!" suggested undreamed-of
possibilities. And von Kerber certainly had the actor's facial art of
conveying much more than the mere purport of his words. The map, the
charts, assumed a new meaning. Were they scenic accessories? Had

this foreigner taken the whim to send him abroad on some mission? He
decided to be less curt in his statements.
"If I simply answered your question I should be compelled to say 'No,'"
he replied. "So far as my actual sea-going is concerned, it has consisted
of trips across the Channel when I was a boy. Yet I am a fair sailor. I
can handle a small yacht better than most men of my age. My
experience is confined to a lake, but it is complete in that small way.
And I taught myself the rudiments of navigation as a pastime."
"Ah!"
The Baron expressed both surprise and gratification by the
monosyllable. Royson was weighing his companion closely now, and
he came to the conclusion, that there were qualities in that tall, thin,
somewhat effeminate personality which he had not detected during
their brief meeting of the morning. Von Kerber was good-looking, with
something of the dignity and a good deal of the aspect of a bird of prey.
His slender frame was well-knit. His sinuous hands hinted at
unexpected strength. Were Royson told that his possible employer was
a master of the rapier he would have credited it. And the Baron, for his
part, was rapidly changing the first-formed estimate of his guest.
"Pray forgive me if I seem to intrude on your personal affairs," he said;
"but, taking your own words, you are--how do you say it--
schlimm--aux abois--"
"Hard up. Yes."
"What? You speak German, or is it French?"
"German, a little. I am understandable in French."
"Ah."
Again von Kerber paused. Royson smiled. Had he striven to mislead
the other man as to his character he could not have succeeded so
admirably. And the Baron read the smile according to his own

diagnosis. He was sure that this well-educated, gentlemanly, yet
morose-mannered young Englishman was under a cloud--that he had
broken his country's laws, and been broken himself in the process. And
von Kerber was searching for men of that stamp. They would do things
that others, who pinned their faith to testimonials, certificates, and
similar vouchers of repute, might shy at.
"I think you are one to be trusted?" he went on.
"I am glad you think that."
"Yes. I soon make up my mind. And to-day you acted as one man
among a thousand. Miss Fenshawe, the lady in the carriage,
enlightened me afterwards. I saw only part of your fine behavior. You
were quick and fearless. Those are the qualities I seek, but I demand
obedience, too, and a still tongue, yes?"
"I would not betray a man who trusted me," said Dick. "If I disagreed
with you I would leave you. I fell out with the son of my last employer,
so I left him, a fortnight ago. Yet I have kept my reasons to myself."
The memory of that falling out was yet vivid. He had filled the position
of foreign correspondence clerk to an export firm in the city. One
evening, returning late to the office, he surprised the typist, a rather
pretty girl, in tears. She blurted out some broken words which led him
to interview the young gentleman who represented the budding talent
of the house; and the result was lamentable. The senior partner
dismissed him next day, telling him he was lucky he had escaped arrest
for a murderous assault, and, as for the girl, she was like the rest of her
class, anxious only to inveigle a rich young fool into marriage. The
point of view of both father and son was novel to Royson, and their
ethics were vile, but he gave the girl, who was sent away at the same
time, half of the six pounds