Mr. Hemster said nothing to me that day, nor I to him, after I came on deck again. For an hour I strode the deck with an energy which, if applied in the right direction, would have driven the yacht faster than she was going. When the gong sounded for luncheon I went down to my own room and was served there. After the meal I did not go up on deck again, but sat on the sofa gloomily smoking. Later I got a novel from the library, and tried to interest myself in it, but failed. I felt physically tired, as if I had done a hard day’s work, and, unsentimental as it is to confess it, I fell asleep on the sofa, and slept until the gong for dinner aroused me.
Dinner I also enjoyed in solitary state in my own apartment, then, under the brilliant cluster of electric lights, tried the novel again, but again without success. The nap in the afternoon made sleep improbable if I turned in, so I scarcely knew what to do with myself. I rather envied Silas K. Hemster’s reticence, and his seeming dislike for intercourse with his fellows. He was the most self-contained man I had ever met, preferring the communion of his own thoughts to conversation with any one. At this crisis of indecision the way was made plain for me by the youth from Japan. There came a gentle tap at my door, and on opening it the Japanese boy said respectfully:
“Sir, Miss Stretton would like to speak with you on deck.”
CHAPTER X
I had flung my much-maligned blazer into a corner, and now I slipped on an ordinary tweed coat. I found the deck empty with the exception of Miss Stretton, who was walking up and down in the moonlight, as she had done the night before, but this time she came forward with a sweet smile on her lips, extending her hand to me as if we had been old friends long parted. There was something very grateful to me in this welcome, as I was beginning to look upon myself as a pariah unfit for human companionship. Indeed, I had been bitterly meditating on striking into the Corean wilderness and living hereafter as one of the natives, about the lowest ambition that ever actuated the mind of man.
“Have you sentenced yourself to solitary imprisonment, Mr. Tremorne?”
“Yes. Don’t you think I deserve it?”
“Frankly, I don’t; but as you did not appear at either luncheon or dinner, and as the Japanese boy who brought my coffee up here told me you were keeping to your room, I thought it as well to send for you, and I hope you are not offended at having your meditation broken in upon. Prisoners, you know, are allowed to walk for a certain time each day in the courtyard. I do wish I had a ball and chain for your ankles, but we are on board ship, and cannot expect all the luxuries of civilization.”