Musing pleasurably upon these and other prospective delights, I turned in at ten o’clock, determined to get a few hours’ good sleep before reaching Plymouth—where we expected to put in at four or five o’clock in the morning, to land mails and some few passengers—the rest going on with the ship to Southampton. I had not slept more than an hour or two at most, when I was awakened by a sensation, known to even the soundest of sleepers, as if something were going on near me of which I ought to know. Looking out half-dreamily from my berth, I saw that Raynor was standing in the cabin, a lighted taper placed on a small shelf near him. I was about to close my eyes, when I became aware that there was something unusual in his appearance and actions. Instead of undressing himself for the night, he stood half bent over a locker opposite, upon which was lying open the travelling-bag I have referred to as being the object of his special care at the outset of the voyage. From this he drew one after another a number of small brown packets, in size and look not unlike gun-cartridges—which, indeed, in the dim light of the taper, I took them to be—hurriedly passing them into the various pockets of a light overcoat I now noticed him to be wearing. Still drowsily watching his movements, I was surprised to see him unroll from a bundle of wraps a thick heavy ulster, and putting it on, proceed to transfer more of the queer little brown-paper parcels to the pockets of this second garment. I was now fairly awake, and with a perhaps rather tardy recognition of the unfairness of my espionage, I coughed an artfully prepared cough, so toned as to convey the impression that I had that moment come from the land of dreams.
‘Hullo!’ I said, with the uneasy drawl of somnolence, ‘is that you?’
He started, and made a movement as if trying to stand full between me and the valise, as he answered: ‘Yes; I am just putting away one or two things.’ Then, after a moment’s pause, during which I heard him lock and fasten the bag, ‘I’m afraid,’ he said, ‘you will think me a terribly shifty fellow, Peter, but the fact is, I know those old people in Cornwall will never forgive me if I don’t go and see them whilst I’m at home; and I’m equally positive that if I put it off now, I shall never get anywhere near them’——
‘And so you’ve suddenly made up your mind to get out at Plymouth, and leave me to go on to town alone,’ said I, interrupting, with a feeling of keener disappointment than I cared to show. ‘I see it all. Never mind. I can bear it. I was born to suffer.’
‘So you will say when I have finished,’ was the laughing reply. ‘After all, though, it is only putting off our little jaunt for a few days. Meanwhile, will you do me a favour? I cannot descend upon the old folks with a heap of luggage; and besides, this concern’—pointing to the valise—‘holds everything I am likely to need. Therefore, I want you, like a good boy as you are, to pass through the Customs with your own things, my two portmanteaus which are in the hold, and take them up to town with you. Go to the rooms you spoke of, and I will join you in a week from to-day.’
‘All right, you unblushing deserter. Have it as you will. But remember, if you are not at No. 91 Savile Street by Thursday evening next, I shall “cause your goods to be sold to defray expenses, and reserve to myself the right of deciding what to do with the proceeds,” as the Tipperary lawyers have it.’
‘Do; only keep something to remind you of the biggest scoundrel you are ever likely to know,’ he replied, laughing again, but with a curious ring in his voice, of which, I think, I shall never quite lose the memory. Its effect at the moment was to set me thinking whether this new move of Paul’s might not portend the upsetting of all our schemes.
‘Here, Peter,’ he went on—‘here is what I owe you, with many thanks. You don’t mind having it all in gold, do you? Those fellows have been giving me a very decent revenge at loo the last night or two, and this is the result!’ holding up a handful of sovereigns, and proceeding to pour twenty-five of them with a horrible clatter into my washing-basin.
‘Haven’t you got any English notes?’ I asked, wondering sleepily what I should do with all these sovereigns in addition to an existing small supply of my own.
‘Not one,’ answered Raynor. ‘Now, go to sleep; and I’ll come down and awake you when we’re within anything like reasonable distance of Plymouth. It’s no use turning in for the short time that’s left, so I shall go up and smoke a pipe and watch for the first sight of the land of my birth.’ He then went out into the soft air of the July night, looking strangely uncouth in a superfluity of wraps such as no man would throw about him only to meet the light breeze that just precedes a summer dawn.