“‘Fiona,’” he said absently, and then pulling himself up sharp,—“what am I thinking about? I mean the ‘Walmer Castle,’ of course. I sailed in her when I went to Peru.”
I had all along expected that it was for his sister’s boat “Fiona” that Mullen was watching, but hardly that he would tell me so himself; and that such a man—a man who had carried out his devilish plots as if his heart had been of cold stone and his nerves of iron—should so give himself away, as the phrase goes, was proof positive of his complete breakdown.
He watched the steam yacht until she was in front of us, though, of course, a considerable distance off,—and then, having apparently satisfied himself of her identity, he laid the glasses down with a sigh of relief and went below. As soon as he was out of sight I picked them up, levelled them at the now receding vessel, and saw, as I had expected, the word “Fiona” on her bow.
The plot was thickening, indeed, for it was no doubt by Mullen’s directions that she had come to England (he had probably given instructions that she was to enter the Thames by daylight so that he might not miss her), and he would scarcely have sent for her until the fitting moment to make his escape had arrived. I had scarcely time to satisfy myself of the steam yacht’s identity and to lay down the glasses before Mullen reappeared with a plentiful supply of bread and cheese,—of which he must have been sorely in need, for he had had no food since early morning. Every shadow of his nervousness was now gone, and he was in the best of spirits.
“Hughes, my boy,” he said, slapping me on the shoulder boisterously, for I was sitting with my feet in the cockpit, “how are you getting on? And what are you going to do with all the fish you have caught, eh?”
I was in no humour to enter into conversation, and as I had caught no fish—as he very well knew—I pretended to take the last remark in high dudgeon, and gave him a sulky answer.
But the reaction from his former anxiety was so great, and so set was he upon drawing me into conversation, that in order to escape him I made an excuse about getting some tea and went below.
“That’s right; make yourself jolly, my good man. You’re going to do well out of this job, I can tell you,” he said; “and as it’s beginning to get a bit dark, and I don’t see any one about, I’ll go on deck to stretch my legs and get an airing.”
He remained there until night had set in, and then he came into the cabin.
“I say,” he said, “there’s a boat coming out to us. Who can it be, and at this time of the day?”