Роберт Чамберс - Who Goes There!

"But—in that terrible moment when I stood there leaning against the wall, I remembered what was said to me about the lives of many people depending upon my keeping my promise. It was a hideous thing to remember at such a time…. But I could not break my word—for the sake of these imperilled people also—could I, Kervyn?…So I took the papers and locked them in my satchel. And afterward I—I asked you to leave—" Her voice quivered; she bent her head and sat twisting her slim fingers on her lap.

"That is all I know," she faltered—"all I know about it. I have tried to be true to my word, and loyal to—you."

Her emotion was reflected in his own face; he bent forward, laid his hand over her restless fingers.

"Karen," he said, "you are the pluckiest, straightest, whitest woman I ever knew."

"I'm only—honest," she whispered…. "And I want you to think me so."

"I do!—Karen, dearest, sincerest, most fearless of women!"

"Do you believe me—that?"

"Karen, I―"

A sharp knocking at the door cut him short. They looked at each other, startled. At the same moment he realized that the ship had stopped.

"Could it be the stewardess?" she whispered.

"I don't know."

He rose, picked up the satchel and went to the open port.

"If a British guard–ship has stopped us to search us, we can't have this thing found," he said.

She stared at him in frightened silence.

"They may have found those men we tied up and left in your house at Westheath!" he whispered. "A wireless would set a score of warships ready to intercept us. If they board us they must not find that satchel."

The sharp, loud rapping came again.

Guild went to the open port, pushed the satchel through it, leaned out himself. As he did so something brushed his head, and, looking up, he saw a rope's end dangling there.

In an instant he had tied it to the handle of the satchel, stepped back, screwed the heavy glass fast, and then, motioning Karen to fling herself on the bed, he went to the door, opened it, and stood yawning in the face of a ship's officer.

"Don't wake my wife," he said drowsily. "What is the trouble?"

"The trouble is," replied the officer coldly, "that a British cruiser has signalled us to stop, and has asked whether an American named Guild is aboard."

"Well," said Guild coolly, "have you any idea what a casual British cruiser might want of me ?"

"I have not," said the officer, "so perhaps you had better tell me what is wanted of yourself and your wife by the captain of that warship. It might save some argument between him and our own captain. We are due in Amsterdam at noon tomorrow," he added meaningly.

"Do you mean to say that the officer in command of this British ship desires to speak to my wife?"

"His signals stopped us and his wireless told us to detain you and your wife."

"What ship is it?" demanded the young man, so nervous now that he scarcely knew what he was saying.

The Dutch officer remained icy and precise: "The ship is the light cruiser Wyvern , of the 'Monster' class. Her consorts yonder are the Hippogriff and Basalisk —if this information enlightens you, Mr. Guild."

"It does not. But I know this much: You can't detain an American! Neither can that British captain take a neutral from a neutral ship! And that settles the matter."

"Be good enough to come on deck," said the Hollander in his correct and fluent English. "The captain desires to speak with you."

"Very well. I'll follow you in a moment"—and turning to Karen: "Dearest, are you awake?"

"Yes, dear."

"The captain wishes to see me. I'll be back directly." He stepped out into the corridor, hesitated, excused himself to the officer, and returned to Karen, closing the door and locking it.

She was sitting up on the bed, very still and white, and when he came over to her she instinctively laid both chilled hands in his. He held them in a firm and reassuring clasp; but he was terribly disconcerted.

"Listen, dear. I think a British officer is coming aboard for us. I don't know whether he has any right to take us off this ship, but I'm afraid that the law in the matter won't worry him.

"Now listen to me, dear. If I come back and knock and call to you by name, open. If somebody knocks, and there is no voice—or if it is not my voice, go to that port, open it, untie your satchel, which is hanging outside at a rope's end, take out the papers, and drop them into the sea. And not until you have done this shall you open the door to anybody."

"Yes, Kervyn."

"Then," he said, "if we've got to go back to England on a warship, we'll go clean–handed."

"Yes."

"And you had better take these passports, too." He drew them from his breast pocket. "They're forged. Throw them out with the other papers."

"Yes, I will."

"Then—I'm going…. Don't worry—dear. Don't tremble so, Karen—dear Karen―"

"I'll try not to. I'll not be cowardly. It—it has been a long—day…. I'm thinking of Anna, too. You know, if she had any papers, she was bringing them to me. That will be against me."

"I forgot that," he said, appalled. Then he squared his shoulders and forced a smile: "Anyway, whatever faces you faces us both !… Dear—keep every atom of courage you have. I shall stand by you, always. But I must go now. Do you promise me to keep up courage?"

"Yes—dear―"

They were excited, their every nerve now stretched to the breaking, yet both were striving for self–control in the instant menace of this new peril confronting them. Neither knew just what they said or did; he bent over her; she lifted her face to his, closing her eyes as his lips touched her forehead. Then he went away swiftly, and she sprang to the floor and locked the stateroom door. The next moment the awful flare of a searchlight turned the room to a pit of silvery fire, and she cringed against the bed under the fierce white glory, covering her bloodless face with both hands.

On deck, the Dutch captain, who was awaiting Guild at the companionway, came forward hastily and drew him aside.

"They've boarded us already," he said; "there comes their lieutenant over the side. Tell me, Mr. Guild, are your papers in order and your conscience clear? Can I make a fight over this affair?"

"I have no papers, but my conscience is in order. Don't let them take us if you can help it."

"You have no papers?"

"None that can help me or my wife."

"Then it's no use fighting."

"Fight all the same!" whispered Guild, as they both turned to meet the young naval officer who had just stepped aboard. He and the Dutch captain exchanged civilities stiffly, then Guild stepped forward into the lantern light.

"Kervyn Guild!" exclaimed the slim young officer in surprise. "Is it you !"

"Jamison!" ejaculated Guild, astonished. "Well this is lucky! I'm tremendously glad! I am indeed!"

They exchanged a warm impulsive hand–clasp, smiled at each other—then the quick smile on the youthful lieutenant's features altered, and his face fell.

"Guild," he said soberly, "I am afraid I shall have to inconvenience you and—your wife. I'm afraid I shall have to ask you to come aboard the Wyvern with me. I'm sorry; I know it must inconvenience you fearfully―"

"Jamison! We can't go aboard your ship! What on earth are you thinking of?"

"Orders," returned the young fellow gravely. "I've no discretion, you see."

As by common consent they had stepped aside from the group of ships' officers and, standing in the shadow of a lifeboat, they now gazed at each other very seriously.

Guild said: "There must be some mistake about this. I have no wife on board this boat."