Vassall went his way with a wondering air; real tragedy is such a strange thing to be intruding upon our everyday lives. Garrod, left alone, stared at the sluggishly flowing water under the ship's counter with the kind of sick, desirous eyes that so often look over the parapets of bridges in the cities at night. But there were too many people about on the boat; the splash would instantly have betrayed him.
He gathered himself together as with an immense effort, and, climbing the stairway, went to his stateroom. There he unlocked his valise, and drawing out his revolver, a modern hammerless affair, made sure that it was loaded, and slipped it in his pocket. He caught sight of his face in the mirror and shuddered. "As soon as it's dark," he muttered.
He sat down on his bunk to wait. By and by he became conscious of a torturing thirst, and he went out into the main cabin for water. Jack, meanwhile, having loaded his craft, had boarded the steamboat to see if he could beg or steal a newspaper less than two months old, and the two men came face to face in the saloon.
Garrod made a move to turn back, but it was too late; Jack had recognized him now. Seeing the look of amazement in the other's face, Garrod's hand stole to his hip-pocket, but it was arrested by the sound of Jack's voice.
"Frank!" he cried, and there was nothing but gladness in the sound. "Frank Garrod, by all that's holy!" He sprang forward with outstretched hands. "Old Frank! To think of finding you here!"
Garrod stared in stupid amazement at the smile and the hearty tone. For a moment he was quite unnerved; his hands and his lips trembled. "Is it—is it Malcolm Piers?" he stammered.
"Sure thing!" cried Jack, wringing his hand. "What's the matter with you? You look completely knocked up at the sight of me. I'm no ghost, man! What are you doing up here."
"I'm Sir Bryson's secretary," murmured Garrod, feeling for his words with difficulty.
Jack's delight was as transparent as it was unrestrained. The saloon continued to ring with his exclamations. In the face of it a little steadiness returned to Garrod, but he could not rid his eyes of their amazement and incredulity at every fresh display of Jack's gladness.
"You're looking pretty seedy," Jack broke off to say. "Going the pace, I expect. Now that we've got you up here, you'll have to lead a more godly and regular life, my boy."