Part 36 (1/2)
The adventurer plucked up spirit, deluded by Kirkwood's pacific tone. ”I wonder at you, Mr. Kirkwood,” he retorted. ”It was good of you to save my life and--”
”I'm not so sure of that! Perhaps it had been more humane--”
Calendar owned the touch with a wry grimace. ”But I'm d.a.m.ned if I understand this high-handed att.i.tude of yours!” he concluded heatedly.
”Don't you?” Kirkwood's humor became less apparent, the smile sobering.
”You will,” he told the man, adding abruptly: ”Calendar, where's your daughter?”
The restless eyes sought the companionway.
”Dorothy,” the man lied spontaneously, without a tremor, ”is with friends in England. Why? Did you want to see her?”
”I rather expected to.”
”Well, I thought it best to leave her home, after all.”
”I'm glad to hear she's in safe hands,” commented Kirkwood.
The adventurer's glance a.n.a.lyzed his face. ”Ah,” he said slowly, ”I see.
You followed me on Dorothy's account, Mr. Kirkwood?”
”Partly; partly on my own. Let me put it to you fairly. When you forced yourself upon me, back there in London, you offered me some sort of employment; when I rejected it, you used me to your advantage for the furtherance of your purposes (which I confess I don't understand), and made me miss my steamer. Naturally, when I found myself penniless and friendless in a strange country, I thought again of your offer; and tried to find you, to accept it.”
”Despite the fact that you're an honest man, Kirkwood?” The fat lips twitched with premature enjoyment.
”I'm a desperate man to-night, whatever I may have been yesterday.” The young man's tone was both earnest and convincing. ”I think I've shown that by my pertinacity in hunting you down.”
”Well--yes.” Calendar's thick fingers caressed his lips, trying to hide the dawning smile.
”Is that offer still open?”
His nonchalance completely restored by the very navete of the proposition, Calendar laughed openly and with a trace of irony. The episode seemed to be turning out better than he had antic.i.p.ated. Gently his mottled fat fingers played about his mouth and chins as he looked Kirkwood up and down.
”I'm sorry,” he replied, ”that it isn't--now. You're too late, Kirkwood; I've made other arrangements.”
”Too bad.” Kirkwood's eyes narrowed. ”You force me to harsher measures, Calendar.”
Genuinely diverted, the adventurer laughed a second time, tipping back in his chair, his huge frame shaking with ponderous enjoyment. ”Don't do anything you'd be sorry for,” he parroted, sarcastical, the young man's recent admonition to the captain.
”No fear, Calendar. I'm just going to use my advantage, which you won't dispute,”--the pistol described an eloquent circle, gleaming in the lamplight--”to levy on you a little legitimate blackmail. Don't be alarmed; I shan't hit you any harder than I have to.”
”What?” stammered Calendar, astonished. ”What in h.e.l.l _are_ you driving at?”
”Recompense for my time and trouble. You've cost me a pretty penny, first and last, with your nasty little conspiracy--whatever it's all about. Now, needing the money, I purpose getting some of it back. I shan't precisely rob you, but this is a hold-up, all right.... Stryker,” reproachfully, ”I don't see my pearl pin.”
”I got it 'ere,” responded the sailor hastily, fumbling with his tie.
”Give it me, then.” Kirkwood held out his hand and received the trinket.
Then, moving over to the table, the young man, while abating nothing of his watchfulness, sorted out his belongings from the ma.s.s of odds and ends Stryker had disgorged. The tale of them was complete; the captain had obeyed him faithfully. Kirkwood looked up, pleased.
”Now see here, Calendar; this collection of truck that I was robbed of by this resurrected Joe Miller here, cost me upwards of a hundred and fifty.