Part 15 (1/2)

Mr. Fitts, who was not a satellite but a very irritating Christian gentleman, cleared his throat and said:

”I didn't speak, Mr. Landover. I always make a noise like that when I yawn. It's an awfully middle-cla.s.s habit I've gotten into. Still, don't you think one obtains a little more--shall we say enjoyment?--a little more enjoyment out of a yawn if he lets go and puts his whole soul into it? Of course, it isn't really necessary to utter the 'hi-ho-hum!' quite so vociferously as I do,--in fact, it might even be better to omit it altogether,--if possible,--when some one else is speaking. There are, I grant you, other ways of expressing one's complete mastery of the art of yawning, such as a prolonged but audible sigh, or a sort of m.u.f.fled howl, or even a series of blissful little shrieks peculiar to the feminine of the species,--any one of these, I admit, is a trifle more elegant and up-to-date, but they all lack the splendid resonance,--you might even say grandiloquence,--of the old-fas.h.i.+oned 'hi-ho-hum!' to which I am addicted. Now, if you will consider--”

”My G.o.d!” exclaimed the banker, with a positively venomous emphasis on the name of the Deity. ”Who wants to know anything about yawns?”

Mr. Fitts looked hurt. ”I am sorry. My mistake. I thought you were trying to change the subject when you interrupted my yawn.”

”That fellow's a d.a.m.n' fool,” said the banker, as Fitts strolled off to join another group.

”Try one of these cigars, Mr. Landover,” said Mr. Nicklestick persuasively. ”Of course, they're nothing like the kind you smoke, but--”

”Is mine out? So it is. No, thank you. I'll take a match, however, if you have one about you.”

Four boxes were hastily thrust upon the great financier.

”Haf you noticed how poor the matches are lately, Mr. Landover?”

complained Mr. Block.

”As for this vagabond being superintendent of a mining concession up in Bolivia,” continued Landover, absentmindedly sticking Mr. Nicklestick's precious, box of matches into his own pocket, ”that's all poppyc.o.c.k.

He's an out-and-out adventurer. You can't fool me. I've handled too many men in my time. I sized him up right from the start. But the devil of it is, he's got all the officers on this boat hypnotized. And most of the women too. I made it a point to speak to Mrs. Spofford and her niece about him this morning,--and the poor girl has been making quite a fool of herself over him, you may have observed. Mrs. Spofford owns quite a block of stock in our inst.i.tution, so I considered it my duty to put a flea in her ear, if you see what I mean.”

”Certainly, certainly,” said Mr. Nicklestick.

”She should have been very grateful,” said Mr. Block.

Mr. Landover frowned. ”I'm going to speak to her again as soon as she has regained her strength and composure. Nerves all shot to pieces, you understand. Everything distorted,--er--shot to pieces, as I say. I dare say I should have had more sense than to--er--ahem!--two or three days'

rest, that's what she needs, poor thing.”

”Absolutely,” said Mr. Nicklestick.

”You can't tell a woman anything when she's upset,” said Mr. Block, feelingly.

”Miss Clinton is a very charming young lady,” said Mr. Nicklestick, giving his moustache a slight twist. ”I should hate to see her lose her head over a fellow like him.”

”She is a splendid girl,” said Landover warmly. ”One of the oldest families in New York. She deserves nothing but the best.”

”That's right, that's right,” a.s.sented Mr. Nicklestick. ”I don't know when I've met a more charming young lady, Mr. Landover.”

”I didn't know you had met her,” observed the banker coldly.

”Oh, yes,” replied Mr. Nicklestick. ”We were in the same lifeboat, Mr.

Landover, you know,--all night, you know, Mr. Landover.”

CHAPTER IX.

Early the next morning, Percival turned out long before there were any sounds from the galley or dining-room. The sun had not yet cleared the tree-tops to the east; the decks of the Doraine were still wet with dew.