The Pagan Madonna - Page 111/141

He got round the impasse by kicking out the foot rest of the third chair.

Immediately Cunningham opened his eyes. First he turned to see if Dennison

was still in his chair. Finding this to be the case, he grinned amiably at

the father. Exactly the situation he would have prayed for had he believed

in the efficacy of prayer.

"Surprises you, eh? Looks as if he had signed on with the Great Adventure

Company."

His voice woke Dennison, who blinked in the sunshine for a moment, then

looked about. He comprehended at once.

With easy dignity he swung his bare feet to the deck and made for the

companion; never a second glance at either his father or Cunningham.

"Chip of the old block!" observed Cunningham. "You two! On my word, I

never saw two bigger fools in all my time! What's it about? What the devil

did he do--murder someone, rob the office safe, or marry Tottie Lightfoot?

And Lord, how you both love me! And how much more you'll love me when I

become the dear departed!"

Cleigh, understanding that the situation was a creation of pure malice on

Cunningham's part--Cleigh wheeled and resumed his tramp round the deck.

Cunningham plowed his fingers through his hair, gripped and pulled it in a

kind of ecstasy. Cleigh's phiz. The memory of it would keep him in good

humour all day. After all, there was a lot of good sport in the world. The

days were all right. It was only in the quiet vigils of the night that the

uninvited thought intruded. On board the old Dutch tramp he would sleep

o'nights, and the past would present only a dull edge.

If the atoll had cocoanut palms, hang it, he would build a shack and make

it his winter home! Dolce far niente! Maybe he might take up the brush

again and do a little amateur painting. Yes, in the daytime the old top

wasn't so bad. He hoped he would have no more nonsense from Flint. A surly

beggar, but a necessary pawn in the game.

Pearls! Some to sell and some to play with. Lovely, tenderly beautiful

pearls--a rope of them round Jane Norman's throat. He slid off the chair.

As a fool, he hung in the same gallery as the Cleighs.

Cleigh ate his breakfast alone. Upon inquiry he learned that Jane was

indisposed and that Dennison had gone into the pantry and picked up his

breakfast there. Cleigh found the day unspeakably dull. He read, played

the phonograph, and tried all the solitaires he knew; but a hundred times

he sensed the want of the pleasant voice of the girl in his ears.