It was one of those grey days at sea when the prospect of the mingled ocean and sky is not very attractive.
St. Nivel was in the smoking-room; Dolores and Ethel were in the state-room of the latter, holding one of those long important feminine conferences—most delightful, I understood, to themselves—in which dress was the pièce de résistance, with perhaps a little gossip about Ethel's conquests in Aquazilia; they were legion! Mrs. Darbyshire was asleep in her state-room, and as for the dear old man, Don Juan, whom I looked upon now as my future father-in-law, he was studying assiduously a book he had picked up in the ship's library, Reptiles of England, Scotland, and Wales.
Simple soul! He might just as well have studied the snakes of Ireland for all he would see of them in England at that time of the year, unless he went to the Zoo, and then I understand he would not see much.
Our party being thus disposed of, I was sitting alone in a sheltered part of the promenade deck—for there was a bit of a wind—rather depressed at the dreary grey prospect I was contemplating. I was absolutely alone.
Perhaps I had been sitting thus half an hour, wrapped up in a Burberry, when I heard a soft footstep approaching, and my man Brooks stood before me. I noticed that he too looked depressed, and I put his expression down too to the effect of the weather. He stood there for a moment in silence, then preferred a request.
"May I speak to you for a few minutes, sir?" he asked.
I straightened myself up in my deck chair, and took a good look at him; he certainly appeared very solemn, as if he had got something on his mind.
"Certainly, Brooks," I answered, "what's the matter?"
The man had been a most excellent servant, and indeed I considered I owed my life to him, and perhaps Dolores' as well, for had he not handed me my Colt's revolver on that memorable night when the train was attacked, and I was being carried off by the supposed robbers? He availed himself of his permission to speak very slowly; he appeared to be turning something over in his mind, and whatever it was, was apparently not very agreeable. He stood at "attention," the habit of an old soldier, with his forehead puckered; at last his lips opened, and he commenced what he had to say.
"When you engaged me, sir," he began, "you were under the impression that I was a straightforward English servant. Sir," he added, "I was nothing of the sort."