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I turned a copy of Max's will over to them today, and that exonerates you completely." It was strangely empty in the apartment that night; Alan wished Gainer had stayed longer. He walked through the dark rooms, half expecting Max to come home. But Max wasn't coming home. Alan realized he had been tremendously fond of Hawkes.
"Please, don't," the little whining voice under the veil fretfully cut him short. "I can't see very well. Has the doctor gone out?" "Yes, dearest. We're alone." "I'm glad. There isn't much time, and I've got a story to tell you. I ought to call it a confession." That swept Max's forced calmness away. "A confession from you to me!" he cried out, horrified. "Never!
On the strength of this I have wired to Fritz, and asked him to try and fix up an exchange between me and Korting, provided the latter is agreeable and the people in Max's office have no objection. I have a recollection that Korting's boat is one of the U.40 U.60 class, which would suit me admirably, and, as for destination, I care not where it is, provided only that it be far from Bruges.
In short, as Madame Hochon remarked, at fifty-seven years of age he seemed older than Monsieur Hochon, an octogenarian. Every one will suppose, and with reason, that Max's appartement was worthy of so charming a fellow. In fact, in the course of six years our captain had by degrees perfected the comfort of his abode and adorned every detail of it, as much for his own pleasure as for Flore's.
"I have told you once, Fräulein, what I will do and what I will not. For your own sake and mine I'll tell you no more," said Max. "If I were a great princess," said Yolanda, pouting and hanging her head, "you would not speak so sharply to me." Evidently she was hurt by Max's words, though they were the expression, not of his displeasure, but of his pain.
Max's car, lamps lighted, and engine going, drawn up before the house door, with its owner asleep at the wheel. The story traveled the length of the Street that day. "Him," said Mrs.
She was not angry she was only feeling about trying to put her finger on the particular button that controlled Max's movements. "Worried? Not a bit of it. Stay as long as you please." There WAS a button, could she have found it.
"My boy, and my little girl, there is nothing else I so earnestly desire for you as that you may be His true and faithful servants all your days, His in time and eternity." A solemn silence fell on the little group, and for several minutes no one spoke. Lulu was crying softly, and there were tears in Max's eyes, while the father held both in a close embrace.
Browne and Morton frequently sit down to a game of chess, or seizing a couple of Max's "Feejee war-clubs," practise the broad-sword exercise, in which Browne, who has some skill in fencing, occasionally gives lessons to the rest.
At that moment a hail came from a fishing-smack not far away. "Halloo! boys, you'd better put back as fast as you can; that boat's not safe, especially in the hands of such green-horns as you." At the same moment a big incoming wave washed over them, carrying away their hats and Max's coat, which he had pulled off when taking the oar.
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