“And I think it’s sweet of him,” Lenora insisted. “If there’s anything I’m longing for, it’s a breath of perfume from those flowers.”
Slowly the great steamer drifted nearer and nearer to the dock, hats were waved from the little line of spectators, ropes were drawn taut. The Inspector was standing at the bottom of the gangway as they all passed down. He shook hands with every one vigorously. Then he presented Lenora with her carnations and Laura with the poinsettias. Lenora was enthusiastic. Even Laura murmured a few words of thanks.
“Some flowers, those poinsettias,” the Inspector agreed.
Quest gripped him by the arm.
“French,” he said, “I tell you I shall make your hair curl when you hear all that we’ve been through. Do you feel like having me start in right away, on our way to the cars?”
French withdrew his arm.
“Nothing doing,” he replied. “I want to talk to Miss Laura. You can stow that criminal stuff. It’ll wait all right. You’ve got the fellow—that’s what matters.”
Quest exchanged an amused glance with Lenora. The Inspector and Laura fell a little behind. The former took off his hat for a moment and fanned himself.
“Say, Miss Laura,” he began, “I’m a plain man, and a poor hand at speeches. I’ve been saying a few nice things over to myself on the dock here for the last hour, but everything’s gone right out of my head. Look here, it sums up like this. How do you feel about quitting this bunch right away and coming back to New York with me?”
“What do I want to go to New York for?” Laura demanded.
“Oh, come on, Miss Laura, you know what I mean,” French replied. “We’ll slip off and get married here and then take this man Craig to New York. Once get him safely in the Tombs and we’ll go off on a honeymoon anywhere you say.”
Laura was on the point of laughing at him. Then the unwonted seriousness of his expression appealed suddenly to her sympathy. She patted him kindly on the shoulder.
“You’re a good sort, Inspector, but you’ve picked the wrong girl. I’ve run along on my own hook ever since I was born, I guess, and I can’t switch my ideas over to this married stuff. You’d better get a move on and get Craig back to New York before he slips us again. I’m going to stay here with the others.”
The Inspector sighed. His face had grown long, and the buoyancy had passed from his manner.
“This is some disappointment, believe me, Miss Laura,” he confessed.
“Cheer up,” she laughed. “You’ll get over it all right.”
They found the others waiting for them at the end of the great wooden shed. Quest turned to French.
“Look here, French,” he said, “you know I don’t want to hurry you off, but I don’t know what we’re going to do with this fellow about in San Francisco. We don’t want to lodge two charges, and we should have to put him in jail to-night. Why don’t you take him on right away? There’s a Limited goes by the southern route in an hour’s time.”
French assented gloomily.
“That suits me,” he agreed. “You’ll be glad to get rid of the fellow, too,” he added.
They drove straight to the depot, found two vacant seats in the train, and Quest with a little sigh of relief handed over his charge. Craig, who, though still dumb, had shown signs of intense nervousness since the landing, sank back in his corner seat, covering the upper part of his head with his hands. Suddenly Lenora, who had been chatting with French through the window, happened to glance towards Craig. She gave a little cry and stepped back.
“Look!” she exclaimed. “The eyes! Those are the eyes that haunted me all through those terrible days!”
She was suddenly white. Quest passed his arm through hers and glanced through the carriage window. In the shaded light, Craig’s eyes seemed indeed to have suddenly grown in power and intensity. They shone fiercely from underneath the hands which clasped his forehead.
“Well, that’s the last you’ll see of them,” Quest reminded her soothingly. “Come, you’re not going to break down now, Lenora. We’ve been through it all and there he is, safe and sound in French’s keeping. There is nothing more left in the world to frighten you.”
Lenora pulled herself together with an effort.
“It was silly,” she confessed, “yet even now—”
“Don’t you worry, Miss Lenora,” French cried from out of the window. “You can take my word for it the job’s finished this time. Good-bye, all of you! Good-bye, Miss Laura!”
Laura waved her hand gaily. They all stood and watched the train depart. Then they turned away from the depot.
“Now for a little holiday,” Quest declared, passing Lenora’s arm through his. “We’ll just have a look round the city and then get down to San Diego and take a look at the Exposition there. No responsibilities, no one to look after, nothing to do but enjoy ourselves.”
“Capital!” the Professor agreed, beaming upon them all. “There is a collection of fossilised remains in the museum here, the study of which will afford me the greatest pleasure and interest.”
The girls laughed heartily.
“I think you and I,” Quest suggested, turning to them, “will part company with the Professor!”
Quest and Lenora turned away from the window of the hotel, out of which they had been gazing for the last quarter of an hour. Stretched out before them were the lights of the Exposition, a blur of twinkling diamonds against the black garb of night. Beyond, the flashing of a light-house and a faint background of dark sea.
“It’s too beautiful,” Lenora sighed.
Quest stood for a moment shaking his head. The Professor with a pile of newspapers stretched out before him, was completely engrossed in their perusal. Laura, who had been sitting in an armchair at the further end of the apartment, was apparently deep in thought. The newspaper which she had been reading had slipped unnoticed from her fingers.
“Say, you two are no sort of people for a holiday,” Quest declared. “As for you, Laura, I can’t think what’s come over you. You never opened your mouth at dinner-time, and you sit there now looking like nothing on earth.”
“I am beginning to suspect her,” Lenora chimed in. “Too bad he had to hurry away, dear!”
Laura’s indignation was not altogether convincing. Quest and Lenora exchanged amused glances. The former picked up the newspaper from the floor and calmly turned out the Professor’s lamp.
“Look here,” he explained, “this is the first night of our holiday. I’m going to run the party and I’m going to make the rules. No more newspapers to-night or for a fortnight. You understand? No reading, nothing but frivolity. And no love-sickness, Miss Laura.”
“Love-sickness, indeed!” she repeated scornfully.
“Having arranged those minor details,” Quest concluded, “on with your hats, everybody. I am going to take you out to a café where they play the best music in the city. We are going to have supper, drink one another’s health, and try and forget the last few months altogether.”
Lenora clapped her hands and Laura rose at once to her feet. The Professor obediently crossed the room for his hat.
“I am convinced,” he said, “that our friend Quest’s advice is good. We will at any rate embark upon this particular frivolity which he suggests.”
2.