In the general stillness the opening of the door at the top of the steps came sharply to his ears. He looked up. Two figures were silhouetted for a moment against the light, and then the door closed again. They began to move slowly down the steps.
Jimmy had recognised them. He got up. He was in the shadow; they could not see him. They began to walk down the terrace. They were quite close now. Neither was speaking, but presently, when they were but a few feet away, they stopped. There was the splutter of a match, and McEachern lit a cigar. In the yellow light his face was clearly visible. Jimmy looked, and was content.
★ 30 ★
Conclusion
The American liner St. Louis lay in the Empress Dock at Southampton, taking aboard her passengers. All sorts and conditions of men flowed in an unceasing stream up the gangway.
Leaning over the second-class railing, Jimmy Pitt and Spike Mullins watched them thoughtfully.
“Well, Spike,” said Jimmy, “your schooner’s on the tide now, isn’t it? Your vessel’s at the quay. You’ve got some queer-looking fellow-travellers. Don’t miss the two Cingalese sports and the man in the turban and baggy breeches. I wonder if they’re airtight? Useful if he fell overboard.”
“Sure,” said Spike, directing a contemplative eye towards the garment in question. “He knows his business.”
“I wonder what those men on the deck are writing? They’ve been scribbling away ever since we came here. Probably society journalists. We shall see in next week’s papers, ‘Among the second-class passengers we noticed Mr. “Spike” Mullins looking as cheery as ever.’ It’s a pity you’re so set on going, Spike. Why not change your mind and stop?”
For a moment Spike looked wistful. Then his countenance resumed its woodenness. “Dere ain’t no use for me dis side, boss,” he said. “New York’s de spot. Youse don’t want none of me now you’re married. How’s Miss Molly, boss?”
“Splendid, Spike, thanks. We’re going over to France by to-night’s boat.