I
A little, knuckly man bounded into Clement Seadon’s cabin with an india-rubber violence. He snapped the door closed, and faced the startled young man.
“You’re Clement Seadon,” he cried; “I’m Hartley Hard.”
The young man stopped unpacking.
“I don’t think I know you,” he said.
“You needn’t think. You don’t know. I’m a complete stranger to you—in the flesh. But don’t talk. I haven’t much time.”
Clement glanced at the umbrella and obvious shore rig of the bounding little man.
“In fact,” he said, in the other’s manner, “you have no time at all. ‘All ashore’ was called two minutes ago.”
“Oh, don’t talk,” panted the little man. “This thing is terribly important. I mustn’t lose a moment telling you. You know Heloise Reys?”
“Not at all,” said Clement dryly. He began again to unpack.
“For heaven’s sake, don’t quibble, man. You know her. You came from London to Liverpool in the same carriage as Heloise Reys.”
“Oh, that was Heloise Reys,” said the young man, dropping his dress-shirts and looking up with interest. “The Gorgon woman with her called her Loise.”
“Nickname,” said the little man breathlessly. “Her name is really Heloise—What I mean to say is, you do know her.”
“Not really,” said Clement with exasperating (and, one is afraid, deliberate) casualness. “A mere chance acquaintance.”
He refused to tell the little man that, having encountered her in the C.P.R. office, he had determinedly looked out for her on the boat train.
The little man danced about in a fury of anxiety.
“Please do remember that I have the barest possible time to tell you what I must tell you. Don’t interrupt. Don’t quibble. You know her. She is good looking.”
“Very good looking,” said Clement, staring at the little man in amazement.
“She is a charming girl,” urged the little man.
“Perfectly charming,” said Clement.
“Of very good family, too,” snapped the little man.
“Probably,” said Clement. “But I didn’t find that out.”
“Don’t have to, take it from me. Very good family. No father, no mother.”
“That,” said Clement, “I shall have to take from you.”
His astonishment had given way to a sort of guarded amusement. He was of the genial type of young man, one who could see the humorous side of things quickly.
The little bouncy man waved his umbrella in excitement.
“Do take it from me,” he cried. “No mother, no father. No encumbrances, and no one to control her. Remember that, no one to watch over her. And she is very well off. Very rich.”
Clement could only stare. The little man swept on: “Very beautiful. Very charming. A girl with a gentle, tender heart—much too tender. Too quixotic. A fine character. Good family—and rich. Extremely rich. You understand all that?”
“Look here—what on earth are you driving at?” cried the astounded Clement.
“But do you understand?” wailed the little man. “Have you grasped it all? A worthy girl. A girl worthy of any man. A girl that any man can be proud of. A girl——”
This was too much for Clement. “I say,” he burst out, “I say, are you—are you asking me to marry her?”
The excited dance of the little man now took on a touch of relief as well as anxiety. “You grasp it. You see it,” he trilled. “Assuredly. Marry her—that’s it.”
“My dear idiot,” shouted Clement. “My dear madman. Don’t you understand that——”
“No time to understand,” skated on the little man. “No time at all. Know it’s all rapid and wrong and amazing, but that’s what I want. You marry her. You can do it. You’re young. Young and handsome and healthy. And a sea-voyage. Sea-voyages are the chance of sentiment. Idle days, luxurious days. Moonlight—looking at the wake. Oh, the very chance for falling in love.”
“Do you realize you’re talking like an idiot? I’ve only just met Miss——”
“I know. I know. Awfully like an idiot. That’s because I am in such a hurry. I know exactly how it all sounds to you—but, really, I can’t help myself. Such a time. But that’s what I want you to do—really. Fall in love with her. Make her fall in love with you. Make her promise to marry you. Before she gets to Canada make her promise to marry you. Don’t let her put you off. Force her to do it.”
Clement sat down heavily on his bunk. He stared amazed at the little man.
“I’m afraid you’re mad,” he said.
“Mad,” snapped the little man. “I’m not mad. I’m a lawyer.”