Why he should have been so surprised at meeting Maas on board the steamer that evening Browne has never been able to understand. The fact, however, remains that he was surprised, and unpleasantly so. The truth of the matter was, he wanted to be alone, to think of Katherine and of the work he had pledged himself to accomplish. Even when one is head over ears in love, however, the common usages of society may claim some moderate share of attention; and, all things considered, civility to one’s friends is perhaps the first of these. For this reason Browne paced the deck with Maas, watching the lights of Calais growing smaller each time they turned their faces towards the stern of the vessel. Every turn of the paddle-wheels seemed to be taking Katherine farther and farther from him; and yet, was he not travelling to England on her errand, was he not wearing a ring she had given him upon his finger, and was not the memory of her face continually with him? Maas noticed that he was unusually quiet and preoccupied, and attempted to rally him upon the subject. He was the possessor of a peculiarly ingratiating manner; and, much to his own surprise, Browne found himself, before they had been very long on board, telling him the news, that was destined sorely to trouble the hearts of mothers with marriageable daughters before the next few weeks were out. “I am sure I congratulate you most heartily, my dear fellow,” said Maas, with a fine show of enthusiasm. “I have had my suspicions that something of the kind was in the air for some considerable time past; but I did not know that it was quite so near at hand. I trust we shall soon be permitted the honour of making the young lady’s acquaintance.”
“I am afraid that will not be for some considerable time to come,” Browne replied.
“How so?” asked Maas. “What are you going to do?”
“As I told you the other day, I am thinking of leaving England on a rather extended yachting cruise to the Farther East.”
“Ah, I remember you did say something about it,” Maas continued. “Your fiancée will accompany you, of course?”
Browne scarcely knew what reply to offer to this speech. He had no desire to allow Maas to suspect his secret, and at the same time his conscience would not permit him to tell a deliberate untruth. Suddenly he saw a way out of his difficulty.
“We shall meet in Japan, in all probability,” he answered; “but she will not go out with me.”
“What a pity!” said Maas, who had suddenly become very interested in what his companion was saying to him. “There is no place like a yacht, I think, at such a time. I do not, of course, speak from experience; I should imagine, however, that the rippling of the water alongside, and the quiet of the deck at night, would be eminently conducive to love-making.”
To this speech Browne offered no reply. The train of thought it conjured up was too pleasant, and at the same time too sacred, to be shared with any one else. He was picturing the yacht making her way across a phosphorescent sea, with the brilliant tropical stars shining overhead, and Katherine by his side, the only sound to be heard being the steady pulsation of the screw and the gentle lapping of the water alongside.
At last the lights of Dover were to be distinctly seen ahead. The passage had not been altogether a smooth one, and for this reason the decks did not contain as many passengers as usual. Now, however, the latter were beginning to appear again, getting their luggage together and preparing for going ashore, with that bustle that usually characterises the last ten minutes on board a Channel steamer. Always an amusing and interesting companion, Maas, on this particular occasion, exerted himself to the utmost to please. By the time they reached Charing Cross, Browne had to admit to himself that he had never had a more enjoyable journey. The time had slipped by so quickly and so pleasantly that he had been permitted no opportunity of feeling lonely.
“I hope I shall see you again before you go,” said Maas, as they stood together in the courtyard of the station on the look-out for Browne’s hansom, which was awaiting its turn to pull up at the steps. “When do you think you will be starting?”
“That is more than I can tell you,” said Browne. “I have a great many arrangements to make before I can think about going. However, I am certain to drop across you somewhere. In the meantime, can I give you a lift?”
“No, thank you,” said Maas. “I shall take a cab and look in at the club before I go home. I could not sleep until I have heard the news of the town; who has married who, and who has run away with somebody else. Now, here is your cab; so let me wish you good-night. Many thanks for your society.”
Before Browne went to bed that night, he ascended to his magnificent picture gallery, the same which had been the pride and glory of his father’s heart, and, turning up the electric light, examined a picture which had lately been hung at the farther end. It was a Norwegian subject, and represented the mountains overlooking the little landlocked harbour of Merok. How much had happened since he had last looked upon that scene, and what a vital change that chance meeting had brought about in his life! It seemed scarcely believable, and yet how true it all was! And some day, if all went well, Katherine would stand in the self-same hall looking upon the same picture, mistress of the beautiful house and all it contained. Before that consummation could be brought about, however, they had a difficult piece of work to do. And what would happen supposing he should never return? What if he should fall into the hands of the Russian Government? That such a fate might befall him was far from being unlikely, and it would behove him to take all precautions in case it should occur. In his own mind he knew exactly what those precautions would be. Waking from the day-dream into which he had fallen, he glanced once more at the picture, and then, with a little sigh for he knew not what, made his way to his bedroom and retired to rest. Next morning he was up betimes, and by nine o’clock had telegraphed to Southampton for the captain of his yacht. At ten o’clock he ordered his hansom and drove to his lawyers’ office in Chancery Lane. The senior partner had that moment arrived, so the clerk informed him.
“If you will be kind enough to step this way, sir,” the youth continued, “I will conduct you to him.”
Browne did as he was requested, and followed him down a passage to a room at the farther end. Browne’s visits were red-letter days in the calendar of the firm. When the lad returned to his high stool in the office, it was to wonder how he would spend his time if he were the possessor of such enormous wealth. It is questionable whether he would have considered Browne so fortunate had he been made acquainted with all the circumstances of the case. He was an irreproachable youth in every way, who during the week wore a respectable black coat and top-hat, and lived at Blackheath; while on Sundays he rode a tandem bicycle with the girl of his heart, and dreamt of the cottage they were to share together, ............