“Of course, Horace; I quite forgot that. It is very annoying, but I suppose it can’t be helped.”
Horace laughed. “A day won’t make much difference, father. I am sure aunt would be very vexed if we did not turn up. Do you mean to tell her anything about it?”
Mr. Beveridge was silent for a minute. “I don’t think there is any occasion; do you, Horace?” he said doubtfully. “She might raise objections, you know; though that, of course, would make no difference; arguments are always to be avoided, and your aunt was always a very positive woman.”
“I think it is just as well to say nothing about it,” Horace said with a slight smile, for he felt sure that his aunt would oppose the project tooth and nail if she were aware of it, and that she would be backed by the whole strength of his mother’s family. He did not say this, but went on, “It is a nuisance being asked a tremendous lot of questions about things, especially when you don’t know much about them yourself. No, I think, father, we had better keep it quite quiet. It will be time enough to write a line to aunt and tell her that we are off, the last thing before we get up anchor.”
“I agree with you, Horace, so we will say nothing about this trip of ours. Well, as it seems you can’t go to-day, you had better make your arrangements to catch the coach to-morrow morning. I will sign a dozen blank cheques, which you can fill up as required. Of course whoever accepts the post of captain will know all that will be wanted for the ship, and if he doesn’t know himself about the arms and ammunition he may be able to introduce you to some officer who does. Will you take Marco with you?”
“No, I don’t think so, father. I don’t see that he would be any use, and having a man going about with you looks as if one was being taken care of.”
Horace caught the coach and alighted at Exmouth, and hurried to the revenue officer’s house.
“Is Mr. William Martyn in?” he asked the servant who opened the door.
“He is not in just at present, sir; I think he went down to the river.”