Audrey, standing behind the detective and unseen by him, observed the gloriousness of Mr. Gilman’s demeanour and also Mr. Gilman’s desire that she should note the same and appreciate it. She nodded violently several times to Mr. Gilman, to urge him to answer the detective in the affirmative.
“Ye-es, sir. Since you are so confoundedly inquisitive, I am sailing to-night. I shall sail as soon as the tide serves,” said Mr. Gilman hurriedly and fiercely, and then glanced again at Audrey for further approval.
“Where for?” Mr. Hurley demanded.
“Where I please, sir,” Mr. Gilman snorted. By this time he evidently imagined that he was furious, and was taking pleasure in his fury.
Mr. Hurley, having given a little ironic bow, turned to leave and found himself fronting Audrey, who stiffly ignored his salute. The detective gone, Mr. Gilman walked to and fro, breathing more loudly than ever, and unsuccessfully pretending to a scattered audience, which consisted of the skipper, Mr. Price, Dr. Cromarty, and sundry deck-hands, that he had done nothing in particular and was not a hero. As Audrey approached him he seemed to lay all his glory with humble pride at her feet.
“Well, he brought that on himself!” said Audrey, smiling.
“He did,” Mr. Gilman concurred, gazing at the Hard with inimical scorn.
“She can’t come—now,” said Audrey. “It wouldn’t be safe. He means to stay on the Hard till we’re gone. He’s a very suspicious man.”
Mr. Hurley was indeed lingering just beyond the immediate range of the Ariadne’s lamps.
“Can’t come! What a pity! What a pity!” murmured Mr. Gilman, with an accent that was not a bit sincere. The news was the best he had heard for hours. “But I suppose,” he added, “we’d better sail just the same, as I’ve said we should?” He did not want to run the risk of getting Jane Foley after all.