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He strove to appear calm and matter-of-fact. "What do you expect to get for them?" he asked, pointing. "'Bout fifty cents de dozen, boss. Crab market ain't what it ought ter be jest now." "Why don't you try to sell them to the yacht over there?" Mr. Heatherbloom managed to speak carelessly but it was a difficult task. "Jest becos she is 'over there', boss," returned the darky lazily.
Heatherbloom looked into space; Mr. Mackintosh did not notice a subtle change of expression. That latter gentleman's rapt gaze was wholly absorbed by the half-tumblerful he held in mid air. But only for a moment; the next, he was smacking his lips. "We'll have a bite to eat and then go," he now said more cheerfully. "Ready for luncheon?" "I could eat" "Had anything to-day?" "Maybe."
Mr. Heatherbloom always peered carefully about before venturing from the house with his pampered charges; he was no less watchfully alert when he returned. He could not, however, having only five senses, tell when the front door might be suddenly opened at an inopportune moment. It was opened, this very morning, on the third day of his probation at such a moment.
He wound the strap around his wrist and strove to ensconce himself deeper in a place not large enough for him. He was on an edge all the time, and felt as if he were falling over every moment; the edge, too, was sharp and dug into him. Mr. Heatherbloom, however, had little thought of bodily discomfort; he was more concerned in making progress and the difficulty of maintaining his position.
Heatherbloom remained unmindful of his surroundings. The lamps of the car near by were not lighted; a single figure on the front seat was barely distinguishable. Now this person got down and lighted a cigarette; he seemed restless, walked to and fro, and glanced once or twice at the house.
"Why, you see " The prince certainly did not see him he was once more staring away, over the dark water "I acted in a good many capacities. Kind of general utility, as it were. Doing this, that, and the other!" "'The other', I should surmise." Contemptuously. Mr. Heatherbloom moved; the curtain had moved again. "Where are you going?" he asked a little wildly.
Heatherbloom glanced over his shoulder; but he did not tell her where he "had him". "And the yacht's going back to the nearest American port," he couldn't help adding, impetuously, to reassure her. "Going back? Impossible!" Wonder, incredulity were in her voice. "It's true as shooting, Bet " She was too bewildered to notice that slight slip of the tongue.
Heatherbloom relaxed in surprise a peal of merry laughter filled the air. "How apropos! How well you said that!" "Miss Dalrymple!" There was a slightly rising inflection in the man's tones. "You doubt my sincerity?" "The sincerity of a Russian prince? No, indeed!" she returned gaily. "I am in earnest," he said simply. "Don't be!" Mr.
Heatherbloom, a weight lifted from his shoulders, departed from the kitchen. He had wronged her this poor girl, or young woman, who, in her dire distress, had appealed to him. How he despised now the uncharitable dark thoughts of the night!
A brave secret-service officer who had aided her that's what Mr. Heatherbloom was to the governor and his better half. Hence the distinct formality of Sir Charles' note to Mr. Heatherbloom, indited at Miss Dalrymple's special request and somewhat against the good baronet's own secret judgment. A police agent may be valiant as a lion, but he is not a gentleman.