It did not take long to have his baggage transferred to the other hotel, and there Slyne put him under confidential charge of the manager, with very strict orders that he was not, on any pretext whatever, to be allowed to decamp pending Slyne's return. Whereafter that active man of affairs sent to the garage for his car, with word that his chauffeur need not be disturbed and, having deposited his still uncounted winnings with the cashier, started eastward again in such haste that he would not even wait to change his thin evening clothes.
Slyne was, in fact, fiercely excited. His particular Providence seemed to be holding out to him such a chance in life as he could scarcely have conceived himself in his wildest dreams. And he was in such frantic haste to grasp that chance—which involved so much more than the mere money—that he had quite forgotten his recent fear of M. Dubois.
"I think I've got you this time, my girl!" said he to himself gleefully, as he once more slowed down to stop at the Italian frontier. And that was the burden of all his thoughts as he raced madly along the Corniche Road in his high-powered car. In the darkness before the dawn, his eyes intent on the long white ribbon of highway endlessly slipping toward his head-lights, he saw only roseate visions of what the future now held for him. As the sun rose to burnish the bare, brown mountains before him, he nodded happily to himself, and his lips moved again to the glad refrain, "I think I've got you quite safe this time, my girl!"
CHAPTER XII
THE PRICE OF FREEDOM
Slyne's nostrils curled as he observed the dirty and dishevelled aspect of the Olive Branch, lying idle in Genoa harbour alongside the coal-chutes where the day's work had not yet begun. He had grown extremely fastidious again within the very short space of time which had passed since he had last seen her.
There was no one visible about her littered decks except the watchman on duty, whose sole salute to him as he stepped carefully up the insecure gangplank was a sullen scowl.
But that might have been deemed quite a hearty welcome in contrast with his reception by Captain Dove.
Captain Dove was, in point of fact, furious when he opened his little, red-rimmed eyes and became aware of his former friend's intrusion upon his privacy. Sitting up in his frowsy bunk, with the blankets huddled about him, looking ludicrously like an incensed gorilla, he raged and swore at his gratuitous visitor until his voice gave out.