pgw.threemenandamaid-第11章

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　〃You　wouldn't　do　that！〃　said　Eustace　piteously。
　〃I　would　and　will。〃
　〃But　I　shouldn't　be　any　good　at　the　piano。　I've　forgotten　how　the　thing　used　to　go。〃
　〃You　haven't　done　anything　of　the　kind。　I　e　in　and　say；　'Hullo；　Ernest！'　and　you　say　'Hullo；　Frank！'　and　then　you　help　me　tell　the　story　about　the　Pullman　car。　A　child　could　do　your　part　of　it。〃
　〃Perhaps　there　is　some　child　on　board。。。。〃
　〃No！　I　want　you。　I　shall　feel　safe　with　you。　We've　done　it　together　before。〃
　〃But　honestly；　I　really　don't　think　。。。　it　isn't　as　if。。。。〃
　Sam　rose　and　extended　a　finger　towards　the　bell。
　〃Stop！　Stop！〃　cried　Eustace　Hignett。　〃I'll　do　it！〃
　Sam　withdrew　his　finger。
　〃Good！〃　he　said。　〃We've　just　got　time　for　a　rehearsal　while　you're　dressing。　'Hullo；　Ernest！'〃
　〃Hullo；　Frank；〃　said　Eustace　Hignett；　brokenly；　as　he　searched　for　his　unfamiliar　trousers。
　
　CHAPTER　SIX
　
　Ship's　concerts　are　given　in　aid　of　the　seamen's　orphans　and　widows；　and；　after　one　has　been　present　at　a　few　of　them；　one　seems　to　feel　that　any　right…thinking　orphan　or　widow　would　rather　jog　along　and　take　a　chance　of　starvation　than　be　the　innocent　cause　of　such　things。　They　open　with　a　long　speech　from　the　master　of　the　ceremoniesso　long；　as　a　rule；　that　it　is　only　the　thought　of　what　is　going　to　happen　afterwards　that　enables　the　audience　to　bear　it　with　fortitude。　This　done；　the　amateur　talent　is　unleashed；　and　the　grim　work　begins。
　It　was　not　till　after　the　all　too　brief　intermission　for　rest　and　recuperation　that　the　newly　formed　team　of　Marlowe　and　Hignett　was　scheduled　to　appear。　Previous　to　this　there　had　been　dark　deeds　done　in　the　quiet　saloon。　The　lecturer　on　deep…sea　fish　had　fulfilled　his　threat　and　spoken　at　great　length　on　a　subject　which；　treated　by　a　master　of　oratory；　would　have　palled　on　the　audience　after　ten　or　fifteen　minutes；　and　at　the　end　of　fifteen　minutes　this　speaker　had　only　just　got　past　the　haddocks　and　was　feeling　his　way　tentatively　through　the　shrimps。　'The　Rosary'　had　been　sung　and　there　was　an　uneasy　doubt　as　to　whether　it　was　not　going　to　be　sung　again　after　the　intervalthe　latest　rumour　being　that　the　second　of　the　rival　lady　singers　had　proved　adamant　to　all　appeals　and　intended　to　fight　the　thing　out　on　the　lines　she　had　originally　chosen　if　they　put　her　in　irons。
　A　young　man　recited　'Gunga　Din'　and；　wilfully　misinterpreting　the　gratitude　of　the　audience　that　it　was　over　for　a　desire　for　more；　had　followed　it　with　'Fuzzy…Wuzzy。'　His　sisterthese　things　run　in　familieshad　sung　'My　Little　Gray　Home　in　the　West'rather　sombrely；　for　she　had　wanted　to　sing　the　'Rosary；'　and；　with　the　same　obtuseness　which　characterised　her　brother；　had　e　back　and　rendered　two　plantation　songs。　The　audience　was　now　examining　its　programmes　in　the　interval　of　silence　in　order　to　ascertain　the　duration　of　the　sentence　still　remaining　unexpired。
　It　was　shocked　to　read　the　following：
　　　　7。　A　Little　Imitation。。。。。。S。　Marlowe
　All　over　the　saloon　you　could　see　fair　women　and　brave　men　wilting　in　their　seats。　Imitation。。。！　The　word；　as　Keats　would　have　said；　was　like　a　knell！　Many　of　these　people　were　old　travellers；　and　their　minds　went　back　wincingly；　as　one　recalls　forgotten　wounds；　to　occasions　when　performers　at　ships'　concerts　had　imitated　whole　strings　of　Dickens'　characters　or；　with　the　assistance　of　a　few　hats　and　a　little　false　hair；　had　endeavored　to　portray　Napoleon；　Bismarck；　Shakespeare　and　others　of　the　famous　dead。　In　this　printed　line　on　the　programme　there　was　nothing　to　indicate　the　nature　or　scope　of　the　imitation　which　this　S。　Marlowe　proposed　to　inflict　upon　them。　They　could　only　sit　and　wait　and　hope　that　it　would　be　short。
　There　was　a　sinking　of　hearts　as　Eustace　Hignett　moved　down　the　room　and　took　his　place　at　the　piano。　A　pianist！　This　argued　more　singing。　The　more　pessimistic　began　to　fear　that　the　imitation　was　going　to　be　one　of　those　imitations　of　well…known　opera　artistes　which；　though　rare；　do　occasionally　add　to　the　horrors　of　ships'　concerts。　They　stared　at　Hignett　apprehensively。　There　seemed　to　them　something　ominous　in　the　man's　very　aspect。　His　face　was　very　pale　and　set；　the　face　of　one　approaching　a　task　at　which　his　humanity　shudders。　They　could　not　know　that　the　pallor　of　Eustace　Hignett　was　due　entirely　to　the　slight　tremor　which；　even　on　the　calmest　nights；　the　engines　of　an　ocean　liner　produce　in　the　flooring　of　a　dining　saloon　and　to　that　faint；　yet　well…defined；　smell　of　cooked　meats　which　clings　to　a　room　where　a　great　many　people　have　recently　been　eating　a　great　many　meals。　A　few　beads　of　cold　perspiration　were　clinging　to　Eustace　Hignett's　brow。　He　looked　straight　before　him　with　unseeing　eyes。　He　was　thinking　hard　of　the　Sahara。
　So　tense　was　Eustace's　concentration　that　he　did　not　see　Billie　Bennett；　seated　in　the　front　row。　Billie　had　watched　him　enter　with　a　little　thrill　of　embarrassment。　She　wished　that　she　had　been　content　with　one　of　the　seats　at　the　back。　But　her　friend　Jane　Hubbard；　who　acpanied　her；　had　insisted　on　the　front　row。　　In　order　to　avoid　recognition　for　as　long　as　possible；　Billie　now　put　up　her　fan　and　turned　to　Jane。　She　was　surprised　to　see　that　her　friend　was　staring　eagerly　before　her　with　a　fixity　almost　equal　to　that　of　Eustace。
　〃What　　is　　the　matter；　Jane？〃
　Jane　Hubbard　was　a　tall；　handsome　girl　with　large　brown　eyes。　About　her；　as　Bream　Mortimer　had　said；　there　was　something　dynamic。　The　daughter　of　an　eminent　explorer　and　big…game　hunter；　she　had　frequently　acpanied　her　father　on　his　expeditions。　An　out…doors　girl。
　〃Who　is　that　man　at　the　piano？〃　she　whispered。　〃Do　you　know　him？〃
　〃As　a　matter　of　fact；　I　do；〃　said　Billie。　〃His　name　is　Hignett。　Why？〃
　〃I　met　him　on　the　Subway　not　long　ago。　Poor　little　fellow；　how　miserable　he　looks！〃
　At　this　moment　their　conversation　was　interrupted。　Eustace　Hignett；　pulling　himself　together　with　a　painful　effort；　raised　his　hands　and　struck　a　crashing　chord：　and；　as　he　did　so；　there　appeared　through　the　door　at　the　far　end　of　the　saloon　a　figure　at　the　sight　of　which　the　entire　audience　started　convulsively　with　a　feeling　that　a　worse　thing　had　befallen　them　than　even　they　had　looked　for。
　The　figure　was　richly　clad　in　some　scarlet　material。　Its　face　was　a　grisly　black　and　below　the　nose　appeared　what　seemed　a　horrible　gash。　It　advanced　towards　them；　smoking　a　cigar。
　〃Hullo；　Ernest；〃　it　said。
　And　then　it　seemed　to　pause　expectantly；　as　though　desiring　some　reply。　Dead　silence　reigned　in　the　saloon。
　〃Hullo；　Ernest！〃
　Those　nearest　the　pianoand　nobody　more　quickly　than　Jane　Hubbardnow　observed　that　the　white　face　of　the　man　on　the　stool　had　grown　whiter　still。　His　eyes　gazed　out　glassily　from　under　his　damp　brow。　He　looked　like　a　man　who　was　seeing　some　ghastly　sight。　The　audience　sympathised　with　him。　They　felt　like　that；　too。
　In　all　human　plans　there　is　ever　some　slight　hitch；　some　little　miscalculation　which　just　makes　all　the　difference。　A　moment's　thought　should　have　told　Eustace　Hignett　that　a　half…smoked　cigar　was　one　of　the　essential　properties　to　any　imitation　of　the　eminent　Mr。　Tinney：　but　he　had　pletely　overlooked　the　fact。　The　cigar　came　as　an　absolute　surprise　to　him　and　it　could　not　have　affected　him　more　powerfully　if　it　had　been　a　voice　from　the　tomb。　He　stared　at　it　pallidly；　like　Macbeth　at　the　ghost　of　Banquo。　It　was　a　strong；　lively　young　cigar；　and　its　curling　smoke　played　lightly　about　his　nostrils。　His　jaw　fell。　His　eyes　protruded。　He　looked　for　a　long　moment　like　one　of　those　deep…sea　fishes　concerning　which　the　recent　lecturer　had　spoken　so　searchingly。　Then　with　the　cry　of　a　stricken　animal；　he　bounded　from　his　seat　and　fled　for　the　deck。
　There　was　a　rustle　of　millinery　at　Billie's　side　as　Jane　Hubbard　rose　and　followed　him。　Jane　was　deeply　stirred。　Even　as　he　sat；　looking　so　pale　and　piteous；　at　the　piano；　her　big　heart　had　gone　out　to　him；　and　now；　in　his　moment　of　anguish；　he　seemed　to　bring　to　the　surface　everything　that　was　best　and　most　passionate　in　her　nature。　Thrusting　aside　a　steward　who　happened　to　be　between　her　and　the　door；　she　raced　in　pursuit。
　Sam　Marlowe　had　watched　his　cousin's　dash　for　the　open　with　a　consternation　so　plete　that　his　sense　seemed　to　have　left　him。　A　general；　deserted　by　his　men　on　some　stricken　field；　might　have　felt　something　akin　to　his　emotion。　Of　all　the　learned　professions；　the　imitation　of　Mr。　Frank　Tinney　is　the　one　which　can　least　easily　be　carried　through　single…handed。　The　man　at　the　piano；　the　leader　of　the　orchestra；　is　essential。　He　is　the　life…blood　of　the　entertainment。　Without　him；　nothing　can　be　done。
　For　an　instant　Sam　stood　there；　gaping　blankly。　Then　the　open　door　of　the　saloon　seemed　to　beckon　an　invitation。　He　made　for　it；　reached　it；　passed　through　it。　That　concluded　his　efforts　in　aid　of　the　Seamen's　Orphans　and　Widows。
　The　spell　which　had　lain　on　the　audience　broke。　This　imitation　seemed　to　them　to　possess　in　an　extraordinary　measure　the　one　quality　which　renders　amateur　imitations　tolerable；　that　of　brevity。　They　had　seen　many　amateur　imitations；　but　never　one　as　short　as　this。　The　saloon　echoed　with　their　applause。
　It　brought　no　balm　to　Samuel　Marlowe。　He　did　not　hear　it。　He　had　fled　for　refuge　to　his　stateroom　and　was　lying　in　the　lower　berth；　chewing　the　pillow；　a　soul　in　torment。
　
　CHAPTER　SEVEN
　
　There　was　a　tap　at　the　door。　Sam　sat　up　dizzily。　He　had　lost　all　count　of　time。
　〃Who's　that？〃
　〃I　have　a　note　for　you；　sir。〃
　It　was　the　level　voice　of　J。　B。　Midgeley；　the　steward。　The　stewards　of　the　White　Star　Line；　besides　being　the　civillest　and　most　obliging　body　of　men　in　the　world；　all　have　soft　and　pleasant　voices。　A　White　Star　steward；　waking　you　up　at　six…thirty；　to　tell　you　that　your　bath　is　ready；　when　you　wanted　to　sleep　on　till　twelve；　is　the　nearest　human　approach　to　the　nightingale。
　〃A　what？〃
　〃A　note；　sir。〃
　Sam　jumped　up　and　switched　on　the　light。　He　went　to　the　door　and　took　the　note　from　J。　B。　Midgeley；　who；　his　mission　acplished；　retired　in　an　orderly　manner　down　the　passage。　Sam　looked　at　the　letter　with　a　thrill。　He　had　never　seen　the　hand…writing　before；　but；　with　the　eye　of　love；　he　recognized　it。　It　was　just　the　sort　of　hand　he　would　have　expected　Billie　to　write；　round　and　smooth　and　flowing；　the　writing　of　a　warm…hearted　girl。　He　tore　open　the　envelope。
　〃Please　e　up　to　the　top　deck。　I　want　to　speak　to　you。〃
　Sam　could　not　disguise　it　from　himself　that　he　was　a　little　disappointed。　I　don't　know　if　you　see　anything　wrong　with　the　letter；　but　the　way　Sam　looked　at　it　was　that；　for　a　first　love…letter；　it　might　have　been　longer　and　perhaps　a　shade　warmer。　And；　without　running　any　risk　of　writer's　cramp；　she　might　have　signed　it。
　However；　these　were　small　matters。　No　doubt　she　had　been　in　a　hurry　and　all　that　sort　of　thing。　The　important　point　was　that　he　was　going　to　see　her。　When　a　man's　afraid；　sings　the　bard；　a　beautiful　maid　is　a　cheering　sight　to　see；　and　the　same　truth　holds　good　when　a　man　has　made　an　exhibition　of　himself　at　a　ship's　concert。　A　woman's　gentle　sympathy；　that　was　what　Samuel　Marlowe　wanted　more　than　anything　else　at　the　moment。　That；　he　felt；　was　what　the　doctor　ordered。　He　scrubbed　the　burnt　cork　off　his　face　w