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THE MAKEBELIEVE MAN..........................................................................................................................1

Richard Harding Davis............................................................................................................................1

I had made up my mind that when my vacation came I would spend it seeking adventures. I have always

wished for adventures, but, though I am old enoughI was twentyfive last Octoberand have always

gone halfway to meet them, adventures avoid me. Kinney says it is my fault. He holds that if you want

Kinney sits next to me at Joyce & Carboy's, the woollen manufacturers, where I am a stenographer, and

Kinney is a clerk, and we both have rooms at Mrs. Shaw's boardinghouse. Kinney is only a year older than

myself, but he is always meeting with adventures. At night, when I have sat up late reading law, so that I may

fit myself for court reporting, and in the hope that some day I may become a member of the bar, he will

knock at my door and tell me some surprising thing that has just happened to him. Sometimes he has

followed a fireengine and helped people from a fireescape, or he has pulled the shield off a policeman, or

at the bar of the Hotel Knickerbocker has made friends with a stranger, who turns out to be no less than a

nobleman or an actor. And women, especially beautiful women, are always pursuing Kinney in taxicabs and

calling upon him for assistance. Just to look at Kinney, without knowing how clever he is at getting people

out of their difficulties, he does not appear to be a man to whom you would turn in time of trouble. You

would think women in distress would appeal to some one bigger and stronger; would sooner ask a policeman.

But, on the contrary, it is to Kinney that women always run, especially, as I have said, beautiful women.

Nothing of the sort ever happens to me. I suppose, as Kinney says, it is because he was born and brought up

in New York City and looks and acts like a New York man, while I, until a year ago, have always lived at

Fairport. Fairport is a very pretty harbor, but it does not train one for adventures. We arranged to take our

vacation at the same time, and together. At least Kinney so arranged it. I see a good deal of him, and in

looking forward to my vacation, not the least pleasant feature of it was that everything connected with Joyce

& Carboy and Mrs. Shaw's boardinghouse would be left behind me. But when Kinney proposed we should

go together, I could not see how, without being rude, I could refuse his company, and when he pointed out

that for an expedition in search of adventure I could not select a better guide, I felt that he was right.

"Sometimes," he said, "I can see you don't believe that half the things I tell you have happened to me, really

To find the answer that would not hurt his feelings I hesitated, but he did not wait for my answer. He seldom

"Well," on this trip," he went on, "you will see Kinney on the job. You won't have to take my word for it.

Our vacation came on the first of September, but we began to plan for it in April, and up to the night before

we left New York we never ceased planning. Our difficulty was that having been brought up at Fairport,

which is on the Sound, north of New London, I was homesick for a smell of salt marshes and for the sight of

water and ships. Though they were only schooners carrying cement, I wanted to sit in the sun on the

stringpiece of a wharf and watch them. I wanted to beat about the harbor in a catboat, and feel the tug and

pull of the tiller. Kinney protested that that was no way to spend a vacation or to invite adventure. His face

was set against Fairport. The conversation of clamdiggers, he said, did not appeal to him; and he

complained that at Fairport our only chance of adventure would be my capsizing the catboat or robbing a

lobsterpot. He insisted we should go to the mountains, where we would meet what he always calls "our best

people." In September, he explained, everybody goes to the mountains to recuperate after the enervating

atmosphere of the seashore. To this I objected that the little sea air we had inhaled at Mrs. Shaw's basement

diningroom and in the subway need cause us no anxiety. And so, along these lines, throughout the sleepless,

sultry nights of June, July, and August, we fought it out. There was not a summer resort within five hundred

miles of New York City we did not consider. From the information bureaus and passenger agents of every

railroad leaving New York, Kinney procured a library of timetables, maps, folders, and pamphlets, illustrated

with the most attractive pictures of summer hotels, golf links, tennis courts, and boathouses. For two months

he carried on a correspondence with the proprietors of these hotels; and in comparing the different prices they

"The Outlook House," he would announce, "wants twentyfour dollars a day for bedroom, parlor, and private

bath. While for the same accommodations the Carteret Arms asks only twenty. But the Carteret has no tennis

court; and then again, the Outlook has no garage, nor are dogs allowed in the bedrooms."

As Kinney could not play lawn tennis, and as neither of us owned an automobile or a dog, or twentyfour

dollars, these details to me seemed superfluous, but there was no health in pointing that out to Kinney.

Because, as he himself says, he has so vivid an imagination that what he lacks he can "make believe" he has,

Kinney gives a great deal of thought to his clothes, and the question of what he should wear on his vacation

was upon his mind. When I said I thought it was nothing to worry about, he snorted indignantly. "YOU

wouldn't!" he said. "If I'D been brought up in a catboat, and had a tan like a red Indian, and hair like a

Broadway blonde, I wouldn't worry either. Mrs. Shaw says you look exactly like a British peer in disguise." I

had never seen a British peer, with or without his disguise, and I admit I was interested.

"Why are the girls in this house," demanded Kinney, "always running to your room to borrow matches?

Because they admire your CLOTHES? If they're crazy about clothes, why don't they come to ME for

"You know that's not the answer," he protested. "Why do the typewriter girls at the office always go to YOU

to sharpen their pencils and tell them how to spell the hard words? Why do the girls in the lunchrooms serve

Kinney snorted and tossed up his arms. "He hadn't noticed!" he kept repeating. "He hadn't noticed!" For his

vacation Kinney bought a secondhand suitcase. It was covered with labels of hotels in France and

Kinney's name is Joseph Forbes Kinney; he dropped the Joseph because he said it did not appear often

enough in the Social Register, and could be found only in the Old Testament, and he has asked me to call him

"My name is NOT Joe," he said sternly, "and I have as much right to carry a secondhand bag as a new one.

"But, you probably will," I pointed out, "and then some one who has really visited those places"

"Listen!" commanded Kinney. "If you want adventures you must be somebody of importance. No one will go

shares in an adventure with Joe Kinney, a twentydollaraweek clerk, the human adding machine, the

hallroom boy. But Forbes Kinney, Esq., with a bag from Europe, and a Harvard ribbon round his hat"

"It is!" declared Kinney; "and I have a Yale ribbon, and a Turf Club ribbon, too. They come on hooks, and

you hook 'em on to match your clothes, or the company you keep. And, what's more," he continued, with

some heat, "I've borrowed a tennis racket and a golf bag full of sticks, and you take care you don't give me

"I was thinking," said Kinney, looking at me rather doubtfully, "it might help a lot if for the first week you

Sometimes, when Mr. Joyce goes on a business trip, he takes me with him as his private stenographer, and

the change from office work is very pleasant; but I could not see why I should spend one week of my holiday

"You wouldn't write any letters," he explained. "But if I could tell people you were my private secretary, it

"If it will make you any happier," I said, "you can tell people I am a British peer in disguise."

"There is no use in being nasty about it," protested Kinney. "I am only trying to show you a way that would

The last week in August came, and, as to where we were to go we still were undecided, I suggested we leave

"The first thing," I pointed out, "is to get away from this awful city. The second thing is to get away cheaply.

Let us write down the names of the summer resorts to which we can travel by rail or by boat for two dollars

and put them in a hat. The name of the place we draw will be the one for which we start Saturday afternoon.

Kinney agreed, but reluctantly. What chiefly disturbed him was the thought that the places near New York to

"I have a terrible fear," he declared, "that, with this limit of yours, we will wake up in Asbury Park."

Friday night came and found us prepared for departure, and at midnight we held our lottery. In a pillowcase

we placed twenty slips of paper, on each of which was written the name of a summer resort. Ten of these

places were selected by Kinney, and ten by myself. Kinney dramatically rolled up his sleeve, and, plunging

his bared arm into our grabbag, drew out a slip of paper and read aloud: "New Bedford, via New Bedford

"New Bedford!" shouted Kinney. His tone expressed the keenest disappointment. "It's a mill town!" he

"That may be," I protested. "But it's also a most picturesque old seaport, one of the oldest in America. You

can see whaling vessels at the wharfs there, and wooden figureheads, and harpoons"

"Is this an expedition to dig up buried cities," interrupted Kinney, "or a pleasure trip? I don't WANT to see

harpoons! I wouldn't know a harpoon if you stuck one into me. I prefer to see hatpins."

The Patience did not sail until six o'clock, but we were so anxious to put New York behind us that at five we

were on board. Our cabin was an outside one with two berths. After placing our suitcases in it, we collected

campchairs and settled ourselves in a cool place on the boat deck. Kinney had bought all the afternoon

papers, and, as later I had reason to remember, was greatly interested over the fact that the young Earl of Ivy

had at last arrived in this country. For some weeks the papers had been giving more space than seemed

necessary to that young Irishman and to the young lady he was coming over to marry. There had been

pictures of his different country houses, pictures of himself; in uniform, in the robes he wore at the

coronation, on a polo pony, as Master of Foxhounds. And there had been pictures of Miss Aldrich, and of

HER country places at Newport and on the Hudson. From the afternoon papers Kinney learned that, having

sailed under his family name of Meehan, the young man and Lady Moya, his sister, had that morning landed

in New York, but before the reporters had discovered them, had escaped from the wharf and disappeared.

"'Inquiries at the different hotels,'" read Kinney impressively, "'failed to establish the whereabouts of his

lordship and Lady Moya, and it is believed they at once left by train for Newport.'"

"There is the boat that brought them to America," he said. "I see," he added, "that in this picture of him

playing golf he wears one of those knit jackets the Eiselbaum has just marked down to three dollars and

"I wish," he continued, "we had gone to Newport. All of our BEST people will be there for the wedding. It is

the most important social event of the season. You might almost call it an alliance."

I went forward to watch them take on the freight, and Kinney stationed himself at the rail above the

passengers gangway where he could see the other passengers arrive. He had dressed himself with much care,

and was wearing his Yale hatband, but when a very smartlooking youth came up the gangplank wearing a

Harvard ribbon, Kinney hastily retired to our cabin and returned with one like it. A few minutes later I found

him and the young man seated in campchairs side by side engaged in a conversation in which Kinney seemed

to bear the greater part. Indeed, to what Kinney was saying the young man paid not the slightest attention.

Instead, his eyes were fastened on the gangplank below, and when a young man of his own age, accompanied

by a girl in a dress of rough tweed, appeared upon it, he leaped from his seat. Then with a conscious look at

The girl in the tweed suit was sufficiently beautiful to cause any man to rise and to remain standing. She was

the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. She had gray eyes and hair like goldenrod, worn in a fashion with

which I was not familiar, and her face was so lovely that in my surprise at the sight of it, I felt a sudden catch

After a brief moment the young man in the real Harvard hatband rose restlessly and, with a nod to Kinney,

went below. I also rose and followed him. I had an uncontrollable desire to again look at the girl with the

goldenrod hair. I did not mean that she should see me. Never before had I done such a thing. But never

before had I seen any one who had moved me so strangely. Seeking her, I walked the length of the main

saloon and back again, but could not find her. The delay gave me time to see that my conduct was

impertinent. The very fact that she was so lovely to look upon should have been her protection. It afforded me

no excuse to follow and spy upon her. With this thought, I hastily returned to the upper deck to bury myself

in my book. If it did not serve to keep my mind from the young lady, at least I would prevent my eyes from

I was about to take the chair that the young man had left vacant when Kinney objected.

"He was very much interested in our conversation," Kinney said, "and he may return."

I had not noticed any eagerness on the part of the young man to talk to Kinney or to listen to him, but I did

"I should not be surprised a bit," said Kinney, "if that young man is no end of a swell. He is a Harvard man,

and his manner was most polite. That," explained Kinney, "is one way you can always tell a real swell.

They're not high and mighty with you. Their social position is so secure that they can do as they like. For

For his holiday Kinney had purchased a box of cigars of a quality more expensive than those he can usually

afford. He was smoking one of them at the moment, and, as it grew less, had been carefully moving the gold

band with which it was encircled from the lighted end. But as he spoke he regarded it apparently with

"Keep my chair," he said, rising. "I am going to my cabin to get my pipe." I sat down and fastened my eyes

upon my book; but neither did I understand what I was reading nor see the printed page. Instead, before my

eyes, confusing and blinding me, was the lovely, radiant face of the beautiful lady. In perplexity I looked up,

and found her standing not two feet from me. Something pulled me out of my chair. Something made me

move it toward her. I lifted my hat and backed away. But the eyes of the lovely lady halted me.

To my perplexity, her face expressed both surprise and pleasure. It was as though either she thought she knew

me, or that I reminded her of some man she did know. Were the latter the case, he must have been a friend,

for the way in which she looked at me was kind. And there was, besides, the expression of surprise and as

though something she saw pleased her. Maybe it was the quickness with which I had offered my chair. Still

"Could you tell me," she asked, "the name of that building?" Had her question not proved it, her voice would

have told me not only that she was a stranger, but that she was Irish. It was particularly soft, low, and vibrant.

It made the commonplace question she asked sound as though she had sung it. I told her the name of the

building, and that farther uptown, as she would see when we moved into midstream, there was another still

taller. She listened, regarding me brightly, as though interested; but before her I was embarrassed, and,

fearing I intruded, I again made a movement to go away. With another question she stopped me. I could see

no reason for her doing so, but it was almost as though she had asked the question only to detain me.

I explained that it was a fireboat testing her hoselines, and then as we moved into the channel I gained

courage, and found myself pointing out the Statue of Liberty, Governors Island, and the Brooklyn Bridge.

The fact that it was a stranger who was talking did not seem to disturb her. I cannot tell how she conveyed the

idea, but I soon felt that she felt, no matter what unconventional thing she chose to do, people would not be

I considered telling her my name. At first it seemed that that would be more polite. Then I saw to do so would

be forcing myself upon her, that she was interested in me only as a guide to New York Harbor.

When we passed the Brooklyn Navy Yard I talked so much and so eagerly of the battleships at anchor there

that the lady must have thought I had followed the sea, for she asked: "Are you a sailorman?"

My answer seemed to puzzle her, and she frowned. Then she laughed delightedly, like one having made a

"You don't say 'sailorman,'" she said. "What do you ask, over here, when you want to know if a man is in the

Again my answer seemed both to puzzle and to surprise her. She regarded me doubtfully. I could see that she

"In an office?" she repeated. Then, as though she had caught me, she said: "How do you keep so fit?" She

asked the question directly, as a man would have asked it, and as she spoke I was conscious that her eyes

were measuring me and my shoulders, as though she were wondering to what weight I could strip.

"It's only lately I've worked in an office," I said. "Before that I always worked outofdoors; oystering and

clamming and, in the fall, scalloping. And in the summer I played ball on a hotel nine."

I saw that to the beautiful lady my explanation carried no meaning whatsoever, but before I could explain, the

Neither did he appear to find in her talking to a stranger anything embarrassing. He halted and smiled. His

smile was pleasant, but entirely vague. In the few minutes I was with him, I learned that it was no sign that he

was secretly pleased. It was merely his expression. It was as though a photographer had said: "Smile, please,"

When he joined us, out of deference to the young lady I raised my hat, but the youth did not seem to think

that outward show of respect was necessary, and kept his hands in his pockets. Neither did he cease smoking.

"Have you got a brass bed in your room?" he asked. The beautiful lady said she had.

"So've I," said the young man. "They do you rather well, don't they? And it's only three dollars. How much is

The young man was smoking a cigarette in a long amber cigaretteholder. I never had seen one so long. He

examined the end of his cigaretteholder, and, apparently surprised and relieved at finding a cigarette there,

"That is the tallest skyscraper," she said, "in New York." I had just informed her of that fact. The young man

smiled as though he were being introduced to the building, but exhibited no interest.

"IS it?" he remarked. His tone seemed to show that had she said, "That is a rabbit," he would have been

"Some day," he stated, with the same startling abruptness with which he had made his first remark, "our

The remark struck me in the wrong place. It was unnecessary. Already I resented the manner of the young

man toward the lovely lady. It seemed to me lacking in courtesy. He knew her, and yet treated her with no

deference, while I, a stranger, felt so grateful to her for being what I knew one with such a face must be, that I

"If the warships you send over here," I said doubtfully, "aren't more successful in lifting things than your

Seldom have I made so long a speech or so rude a speech, and as soon as I had spoken, on account of the

"I see," she cried, as though it were a sort of a game. "He means Lipton! We can't lift the cup, we can't lift the

roofs. Don't you see, Stumps!" she urged. In spite of my rude remark, the young man she called Stumps had

continued to smile happily. Now his expression changed to one of discomfort and utter gloom, and then

"I say!" he cried. "That's awfully good: 'If your warships aren't any better at lifting things' Oh, I say,

really," he protested, "that's awfully good." He seemed to be afraid I would not appreciate the rare excellence

We were interrupted by the sudden appearance, in opposite directions, of Kinney and the young man with the

real hatband. Both were excited and disturbed. At the sight of the young man, Stumps turned appealingly to

the goldenrod girl. He groaned aloud, and his expression was that of a boy who had been caught playing

"Oh, Lord!" he exclaimed, "what's he huffy about now? He TOLD me I could come on deck as soon as we

The girl turned upon me a sweet and lovely smile and nodded. Then, with Stumps at her side, she moved to

meet the young man. When he saw them coming he halted, and, when they joined him, began talking

earnestly, almost angrily. As he did so, much to my bewilderment, he glared at me. At the same moment

I felt, for me, adventures had already begun, for my meeting with the beautiful lady was the event of my life,

and though Kinney and I had agreed to share our adventures, of this one I knew I could not even speak to

him. I wanted to be alone, where I could delight in it, where I could go over what she had said; what I had

said. I would share it with no one. It was too wonderful, too sacred. But Kinney would not be denied. He led

"I am sorry," he began, "but this adventure is one I cannot share with you." The remark was so in keeping

with my own thoughts that with sudden unhappy doubt I wondered if Kinney, too, had felt the charm of the

"I have been doing a little detective work," he said. His voice was low and sepulchral. "And I have come

upon a real adventure. There are reasons why I cannot share it with you, but as it develops you can follow it.

About half an hour ago," he explained, "I came here to get my pipe. The window was open. The lattice was

only partly closed. Outside was that young man from Harvard who tried to make my acquaintance, and the

young Englishman who came on board with that blonde." Kinney suddenly interrupted himself. "You were

talking to her just now," he said. I hated to hear him speak of the Irish lady as "that blonde." I hated to hear

him speak of her at all. So, to shut him off, I answered briefly: "She asked me about the Singer Building."

"I see," said Kinney. "Well, these two men were just outside my window, and, while I was searching for my

pipe, I heard the American speaking. He was very excited and angry. 'I tell you,' he said, 'every boat and

railroad station is watched. You won't be safe till we get away from New York. You must go to your cabin,

and STAY there.' And the other one answered: 'I am sick of hiding and dodging.'"

"No wonder," he cried, "you never have adventures. Why, it's plain as print. They are criminals escaping. The

I was concerned only for the lovely lady, but I asked: "You mean the Irishman called Stumps?"

"Stumps!" exclaimed Kinney. "What a strange name. Too strange to be true. It's an alias!" I was incensed that

Kinney should charge the friends of the lovely lady with being criminals. Had it been any one else I would

have at once resented it, but to be angry with Kinney is difficult. I could not help but remember that he is the

slave of his own imagination. It plays tricks and runs away with him. And if it leads him to believe innocent

people are criminals, it also leads him to believe that every woman in the Subway to whom he gives his seat

"Joe!" I protested. "Those men aren't criminals. I talked to that Irishman, and he hasn't sense enough to be a

"The railroads are watched," repeated Kinney. "Do HONEST men care a darn whether the railroad is watched

or not? Do you care? Do I care? And did you notice how angry the American got when he found Stumps

I had noticed it; and I also recalled the fact that Stumps had said to the lovely lady: "He told me I could come

The words seemed to bear out what Kinney claimed he had overheard. But not wishing to encourage him, of

"He may be dodging a summons," I suggested. "He is wanted, probably, only as a witness. It might be a civil

"Excuse me," he said, "but I fear you lack imagination. Those men are rascals, dangerous rascals, and the

woman is their accomplice. What they have done I don't know, but I have already learned enough to arrest

them as suspicious characters. Listen! Each of them has a separate stateroom forward. The window of the

American's room was open, and his suitcase was on the bed. On it were the initials H. P. A. The stateroom is

number twentyfour, but when I examined the purser's list, pretending I wished to find out if a friend of mine

was on board, I found that the man in twentyfour had given his name as James Preston. Now," he

demanded, "why should one of them hide under an alias and the other be afraid to show himself until we

leave the wharf?" He did not wait for my answer. "I have been talking to Mr. H. P. A., ALIAS Preston," he

continued. "I pretended I was a person of some importance. I hinted I was rich. My object," Kinney added

hastily, "was to encourage him to try some of his tricks on ME; to try to rob ME; so that I could obtain

evidence. I also," he went on, with some embarrassment, "told him that you, too, were wealthy and of some

"You did very wrong," I cried; "you had no right! You may involve us both most unpleasantly."

"You are not involved in any way," protested Kinney. "As soon as we reach New Bedford you can slip on

shore and wait for me at the hotel. When I've finished with these gentlemen, I'll join you."

"I HAVE done it!" answered Kinney. "It's good as done. I have notified the chief of police at New Bedford,"

he declared proudly, "to meet me at the wharf. I used the wireless. Here is my message."

From his pocket he produced a paper and, with great importance, read aloud: "Meet me at wharf on arrival

steamer Patience. Two wellknown criminals on board escaping New York police. Will personally lay

As soon as I could recover from my surprise, I made violent protest. I pointed out to Kinney that his conduct

was outrageous, that in making such serious charges, on such evidence, he would lay himself open to

"I take it then," he said importantly, "that you do not wish to appear against them?"

"I don't wish to appear in it at all!" I cried. "You've no right to annoy that young lady. You must wire the

"I have no desire to arrest the woman," said Kinney stiffly. "In my message I did not mention HER. If you

want an adventure of your own, you might help her to escape while I arrest her accomplices."

"I object," I cried, "to your applying the word 'accomplice' to that young lady. And suppose they ARE

"Think of the newspapers," he cried; "they'll be full of it!" Already in imagination he saw the headlines. "'A

Clever Haul!'" he quoted. "'Noted band of crooks elude New York police, but are captured by Forbes

Kinney.'" He sighed contentedly. "And they'll probably print my picture, too," he added.

I knew I should be angry with him, but instead I could only feel sorry. I have known Kinney for a year, and I

have learned that his "makebelieve" is always innocent. I suppose that he is what is called a snob, but with

him snobbishness is not an unpleasant weakness. In his case it takes the form of thinking that people who

have certain things he does not possess are better than himself; and that, therefore, they must be worth

knowing, and he tries to make their acquaintance. But he does not think that he himself is better than any one.

His life is very bare and narrow. In consequence, on many things he places false values. As, for example, his

desire to see his name in the newspapers even as an amateur detective. So, while I was indignant I also was

"Joe," I said, "you're going to get yourself into an awful lot of trouble, and though I am not in this adventure,

He thanked me and we went to the diningsaloon. There, at a table near ours, we saw the lovely lady and

Stumps and the American. She again smiled at me, but this time, so it seemed, a little doubtfully.

In the mind of the American, on the contrary, there was no doubt. He glared both at Kinney and myself, as

After dinner, in spite of my protests, Kinney set forth to interview him and, as he described it, to "lead him

on" to commit himself. I feared Kinney was much more likely to commit himself than the other, and when I

An hour later, while I was alone, a steward told me the purser would like to see me. I went to his office, and

found gathered there Stumps, his American friend, the night watchman of the boat, and the purser. As though

inviting him to speak, the purser nodded to the American. That gentleman addressed me in an excited and

I did not quite like his tone, nor did I like being summoned to the purser's office to be questioned by a

"Because," said Aldrich, "it seems you have SEVERAL names. As one of them belongs to THIS

I looked at Stumps and he greeted me with the vague and genial smile that was habitual to him, but on being

"I have never used any name but my own," I said; "and," I added pleasantly, "if I were choosing a name I

He evidently expected me to be surprised at this, and I WAS surprised. I stared at the muchadvertised young

Aldrich misunderstood my silence, and in a triumphant tone, which was far from pleasant, continued: "So

you see," he sneered, "when you chose to pass yourself off as Ivy you should have picked out another boat."

The thing was too absurd for me to be angry, and I demanded with patience: "But why should I pass myself

"That's what we intend to find out," snapped Aldrich. "Anyway, we've stopped your game for tonight, and

tomorrow you can explain to the police! Your pal," he taunted, "has told every one on this boat that you are

Lord Ivy, and he's told me lies enough about HIMSELF to prove HE'S an impostor, too!"

I saw what had happened, and that if I were to protect poor Kinney I must not, as I felt inclined, use my fists,

"Oh, that's it, is it?" I cried. "I might have known it was Kinney; he's always playing practical jokes on me." I

turned to Aldrich. "My friend has been playing a joke on you, too," I said. "He didn't know who you were,

"Has he?" roared Aldrich. He reached down into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. "This," he cried,

shaking it at me, "is a copy of a wireless that I've just sent to the chief of police at New Bedford."

With great satisfaction he read it in a loud and threatening voice: "Two impostors on this boat representing

themselves to be Lord Ivy, my future brotherinlaw, and his secretary. Lord Ivy himself on board. Send

It occurred to me that after receiving two such sensational telegrams, and getting out of bed to meet the boat

at six in the morning, the chief of police would be in a state of mind to arrest almost anybody, and that his

choice would certainly fall on Kinney and myself. It was ridiculous, but it also was likely to prove extremely

humiliating. So I said, speaking to Lord Ivy: "There's been a mistake all around; send for Mr. Kinney and I

will explain it to you." Lord Ivy, who was looking extremely bored, smiled and nodded, but young Aldrich

"Mr. Kinney is in his stateroom," he said, "with a steward guarding the door and window. You can explain

"Are you keeping Mr. Kinney a prisoner in his stateroom?" I demanded. "If you are"

"He doesn't have to stay there," protested the purser sulkily. "When he found the stewards were following

"I will see him at once," I said. "And if I catch any of your stewards following ME, I'll drop them overboard."

No one tried to stop meindeed, knowing I could not escape, they seemed pleased at my departure, and I

Kinney, seated on the edge of the berth, greeted me with a hollow groan. His expression was one of utter

misery. As though begging me not to be angry, he threw out his arms appealingly.

"How the devil!" he began, "was I to know that a little redheaded shrimp like that was the Earl of Ivy? And

that that tall blonde girl," he added indignantly, "that I thought was an accomplice, is Lady Moya, his sister?"

"It was that damned hat!" he cried. "It's a Harvard ribbon, all right, but only men on the crew can wear it!

How was I to know THAT? I saw Aldrich looking at it in a puzzled way, and when he said, 'I see you are on

the crew,' I guessed what it meant, and said I was on last year's crew. Unfortunately HE was on last year's

crew! That's what made him suspect me, and after dinner he put me through a third degree. I must have given

the wrong answers, for suddenly he jumped up and called me a swindler and an impostor. I got back by

telling him he was a crook and that I was a detective, and that I had sent a wireless to have him arrested at

New Bedford. He challenged me to prove I was a detective, and, of course, I couldn't, and he called up two

stewards and told them to watch me while he went after the purser. I didn't fancy being watched, so I came

"That was before the boat started," he said; "it was only a joke. He didn't seem to be interested in my

conversation, so I thought I'd liven it up a bit by saying I was a friend of Lord Ivy's. And you happened to

pass, and I happened to remember Mrs. Shaw saying you looked like a British peer, so I said: 'That is my

friend Lord Ivy.' I said I was your secretary, and he seemed greatly interested, and" Kinney added

dismally, "I talked too much. I am SO sorry," he begged. "It's going to be awful for you!" His eyes suddenly

The same thought was in my mind, but the idea was absurd, and impracticable. I knew there was no escape. I

knew we were sentenced at sunrise to a most humiliating and disgraceful experience. The newspapers would

regard anything that concerned Lord Ivy as news. In my turn I also saw the hideous headlines. What would

my father and mother at Fairport think; what would my old friends there think; and, what was of even greater

importance, how would Joyce & Carboy act? What chance was there left me, after I had been arrested as an

impostor, to become a stenographer in the law courtsin time, a member of the bar? But I found that what,

for the moment, distressed me most was that the lovely lady would consider me a knave or a fool. The

thought made me exclaim with exasperation. Had it been possible to abandon Kinney, I would have dropped

overboard and made for shore. The night was warm and foggy, and the short journey to land, to one who had

been brought up like a duck, meant nothing more than a wetting. But I did not see how I could desert Kinney.

"Of course not!" he answered gloomily; "and, besides," he added, "our names are on our suitcases. We

couldn't take them with us, and they'd find out who we are. If we could only steal a boat!" he exclaimed

eagerly"one of those on the davits," he urged"we could put our suitcases in it and then, after every one

The smallest boat on board was certified to hold twentyfive persons, and without waking the entire ship's

"Don't make objections!" Kinney cried petulantly. He was rapidly recovering his spirits. The imminence of

"Think!" he commanded. "Think of some way by which we can get off this boat before she reaches New

Bedford. We MUST! We must not be arrested! It would be too awful!" He interrupted himself with an

"I have it!" he whispered hoarsely: "I will ring in the firealarm! The crew will run to quarters. The boats will

What was to happen in the confusion that his imagination had conjured up, I was not to know. For what

actually happened was so confused that of nothing am I quite certain. First, from the water of the Sound, that

was lapping pleasantly against the side, I heard the voice of a man raised in terror. Then came a rush of feet,

oaths, and yells; then a shock that threw us to our knees, and a crunching, ripping, and tearing roar like that

And the next instant a large bowsprit entered our cabin window. There was left me just space enough to

wrench the door open, and grabbing Kinney, who was still on his knees, I dragged him into the alleyway. He

I could hear the water pouring into the lower deck and sweeping the freight and trunks before it. A horse in a

box stall was squealing like a human being, and many human beings were screaming and shrieking like

animals. My first intelligent thought was of the lovely lady. I shook Kinney by the arm. The uproar was so

great that to make him hear I was forced to shout. "Where is Lord Ivy's cabin?" I cried. "You said it's next to

Kinney nodded, and ran down the corridor and into an alleyway on which opened three cabins. The doors

were ajar, and as I looked into each I saw that the beds had not been touched, and that the cabins were empty.

I knew then that she was still on deck. I felt that I must find her. We ran toward the companionway.

"Women and children first!" Kinney was yelling. "Women and children first!" As we raced down the slanting

floor of the saloon he kept repeating this mechanically. At that moment the electric lights went out, and,

except for the oil lamps, the ship was in darkness. Many of the passengers had already gone to bed. These

now burst from the staterooms in strange garments, carrying lifepreservers, handbags, their arms full of

clothing. One man in one hand clutched a sponge, in the other an umbrella. With this he beat at those who

blocked his flight. He hit a woman over the head, and I hit him and he went down. Finding himself on his

When we reached the upper deck we pushed out of the crush at the gangway and, to keep our footing, for

there was a strong list to port, clung to the big flagstaff at the stern. At each rail the crew were swinging the

boats over the side, and around each boat was a crazy, fighting mob. Above our starboard rail towered the

foremast of a schooner. She had rammed us fair amidships, and in her bows was a hole through which you

could have rowed a boat. Into this the water was rushing and sucking her down. She was already settling at

the stern. By the light of a swinging lantern I saw three of her crew lift a yawl from her deck and lower it into

the water. Into it they hurled oars and a sail, and one of them had already started to slide down the painter

when the schooner lurched drunkenly; and in a panic all three of the men ran forward and leaped to our lower

deck. The yawl, abandoned, swung idly between the Patience and the schooner. Kinney, seeing what I saw,

"There!" he whispered, pointing; "there's our chance!" I saw that, with safety, the yawl could hold a third

person, and as to who the third passenger would be I had already made up my mind.

On the Patience there were many immigrants, only that afternoon released from Ellis Island. They had

swarmed into the lifeboats even before they were swung clear, and when the ship's officers drove them off,

the poor souls, not being able to understand, believed they were being sacrificed for the safety of the other

passengers. So each was fighting, as he thought, for his life and for the lives of his wife and children. At the

edge of the scrimmage I dragged out two women who had been knocked off their feet and who were in

danger of being trampled. But neither was the woman I sought. In the halfdarkness I saw one of the

immigrants, a girl with a 'kerchief on her head, struggling with her lifebelt. A stoker, as he raced past, seized

it and made for the rail. In my turn I took it from him, and he fought for it, shouting:

"All right," I said, for I was excited and angry, "look out for YOURSELF then!" I hit him on the chin, and he

I heard at my elbow a low, excited laugh, and a voice said: "Well bowled! You never learned that in an

office." I turned and saw the lovely lady. I tossed the immigrant girl her lifebelt, and as though I had known

Lady Moya all my life I took her by the hand and dragged her after me down the deck.

"You come with me!" I commanded. I found that I was trembling and that a weight of anxiety of which I had

not been conscious had been lifted. I found I was still holding her hand and pressing it in my own. "Thank

"Lost me!" repeated Lady Moya. But she made no comment. "I must find my brother," she said.

"You must come with me!" I ordered. "Go with Mr. Kinney to the lower deck. I will bring that rowboat under

Upon the word, as though shot from a cannon, the human whirlpool that was sweeping the deck amidships

cast out Stumps and hurled him toward us. His sister gave a little cry of relief. Stumps recovered his balance

"Thought I'd never get out of it alive!" he remarked complacently. In the darkness I could not see his face, but

I was sure he was still vaguely smiling. "Worse than a football night!" he exclaimed; "worse than Mafeking

"This gentleman is going to bring that boat here and take us away in it," she told him. "We had better go

A voice with a strong and brutal American accent yelled in answer: "To hell with Lord Ivy!"

As I slipped my leg over the rail I heard Lord Ivy say: "I'll find Phil and meet you."

I dropped and caught the rail of the deck below, and, hanging from it, shoved with my knees and fell into the

water. Two strokes brought me to the yawl, and, scrambling into her and casting her off, I paddled back to the

steamer. As I lay under the stern I heard from the lower deck the voice of Kinney raised importantly.

"Ladies first!" he cried. "Her ladyship first, I mean," he corrected. Even on leaving what he believed to be a

sinking ship, Kinney could not forget his manners. But Mr. Aldrich had evidently forgotten his. I heard him

"You'll be drowned if you don't!" she answered. I saw a black shadow poised upon the rail. "Steady below

there!" her voice called, and the next moment, as lightly as a squirrel, she dropped to the thwart and stumbled

"I'll be careful!" he called, and the next instant hit my shoulders and I shook him off on top of Lord Ivy.

"Not with those swindlers, I'm not!" he shouted. "I think you two are mad! I prefer to drown!"

There was an uncomfortable silence. My position was a difficult one, and, not knowing what to say, I said

"If one must drown!" exclaimed Lady Moya briskly, "I can't see it matters who one drowns with."

In his strangely explosive manner Lord Ivy shouted suddenly: "Phil, you're a silly ass."

I think, from her tone, the order was given more for the benefit of Aldrich than for myself. Certainly it was

effective, for on the instant there was a heavy splash. Lord Ivy sniffed scornfully and manifested no interest.

Sputtering and gasping, Aldrich rose out of the water, and, while we balanced the boat, climbed over the side.

"Understand!" he cried even while he was still gasping, "I am here under protest. I am here to protect you and

"Why don't you ask your pal?" he demanded savagely; "he rowed on last year's crew."

"Phil!" cried Lady Moya. Her voice suggested a temper I had not suspected. "You will row or you can get out

and walk! Take the oars," she commanded, "and be civil!" Lady Moya, with the tiller in her hand, sat in the

stern; Stumps, with Kinney huddled at his knees, was stowed away forward. I took the stroke and Aldrich the

"We will make for the Connecticut shore," I said, and pulled from under the stern of the Patience.

In a few minutes we had lost all sight and, except for her whistle, all sound of her; and we ourselves were lost

in the fog. There was another eloquent and embarrassing silence. Unless, in the panic, they trampled upon

each other, I had no real fear for the safety of those on board the steamer. Before we had abandoned her I had

heard the wireless frantically sputtering the "standby" call, and I was certain that already the big boats of the

Fall River, Providence, and Joy lines, and launches from every wireless station between Bridgeport and

Newport, were making toward her. But the margin of safety, which to my thinking was broad enough for all

the other passengers, for the lovely lady was in no way sufficient. That mobswept deck was no place for her.

I was happy that, on her account, I had not waited for a possible rescue. In the yawl she was safe. The water

was smooth, and the Connecticut shore was, I judged, not more than three miles distant. In an hour, unless the

fog confused us, I felt sure the lovely lady would again walk safely upon dry land. Selfishly, on Kinney's

account and my own, I was delighted to find myself free of the steamer, and from any chance of her landing

us where police waited with open arms. The avenging angel in the person of Aldrich was still near us, so near

that I could hear the water dripping from his clothes, but his power to harm was gone. I was congratulating

myself on this when suddenly he undeceived me. Apparently he had been considering his position toward

Kinney and myself, and, having arrived at a conclusion, was anxious to announce it.

"I wish to repeat," he exclaimed suddenly, "that I'm under obligations to nobody. Just because my friends," he

went on defiantly, "choose to trust themselves with persons who ought to be in jail, I can't desert them. It's all

the more reason why I SHOULDN'T desert them. That's why I'm here! And I want it understood as soon as I

Rising out of the fog that had rendered each of us invisible to the other, his words sounded fantastic and

unreal. In the dripping silence, broken only by hoarse warnings that came from no direction, and within the

mind of each the conviction that we were lost, police stations did not immediately concern us. So no one

spoke, and in the fog the words died away and were drowned. But I was glad he had spoken. At least I was

forewarned. I now knew that I had not escaped, that Kinney and I were still in danger. I determined that so far

as it lay with me, our yawl would be beached at that point on the coast of Connecticut farthest removed, not

As soon as we were out of hearing of the Patience and her whistle, we completely lost our bearings. It may be

that Lady Moya was not a skilled coxswain, or it may be that Aldrich understands a racing scull better than a

yawl, and pulled too heavily on his right, but whatever the cause we soon were hopelessly lost. In this

predicament we were not alone. The night was filled with foghorns, whistles, bells, and the throb of engines,

but we never were near enough to hail the vessels from which the sounds came, and when we rowed toward

them they invariably sank into silence. After two hours Stumps and Kinney insisted on taking a turn at the

oars, and Lady Moya moved to the bow. We gave her our coats, and, making cushions of these, she

announced that she was going to sleep. Whether she slept or not, I do not know, but she remained silent. For

three more dreary hours we took turns at the oars or dozed at the bottom of the boat while we continued

aimlessly to drift upon the face of the waters. It was now five o'clock, and the fog had so far lightened that we

could see each other and a stretch of open water. At intervals the foghorns of vessels passing us, but hidden

from us, tormented Aldrich to a state of extreme exasperation. He hailed them with frantic shrieks and shouts,

and Stumps and the Lady Moya shouted with him. I fear Kinney and myself did not contribute any great

volume of sound to the general chorus. To be "rescued" was the last thing we desired. The yacht or tug that

would receive us on board would also put us on shore, where the vindictive Aldrich would have us at his

mercy. We preferred the freedom of our yawl and the shelter of the fog. Our silence was not lost upon

Aldrich. For some time he had been crouching in the bow, whispering indignantly to Lady Moya; now he

"What did I tell you?" he cried contemptuously; "they got away in this boat because they were afraid of ME,

not because they were afraid of being drowned. If they've nothing to be afraid of, why are they so anxious to

keep us drifting around all night in this fog? Why don't they help us stop one of those tugs?"

"Rot!" he exclaimed. "If they're afraid of you, why did they ask you to go with them?"

"They didn't!" cried Aldrich, truthfully and triumphantly. "They kidnapped you and Moya because they

thought they could square themselves with YOU. But they didn't want ME!" The issue had been fairly stated,

"We don't want you now!" I said. "Can't you understand," I went on with as much selfrestraint as I could

muster, "we are willing and anxious to explain ourselves to Lord Ivy, or even to you, but we don't want to

explain to the police? My friend thought you and Lord Ivy were crooks, escaping. You think WE are crooks,

"That's a likely story!" he cried. "No wonder you don't want to tell THAT to the police!"

"Phil!" she said, "you bore me!" She picked her way across the thwart to where Kinney sat at the stroke oar.

When she had seated herself we were so near that her eyes looked directly into mine. Drawing in the oars, she

Before I could speak there came from behind her a sudden radiance, and as though a curtain had been

snatched aside, the fog flew apart, and the sun, dripping, crimson, and gorgeous, sprang from the waters.

From the others there was a cry of wonder and delight, and from Lord Ivy a shriek of incredulous laughter.

Lady Moya clapped her hands joyfully and pointed past me. I turned and looked. Directly behind me, not

fifty feet from us, was a shelving beach and a stone wharf, and above it a vinecovered cottage, from the

chimney of which smoke curled cheerily. Had the yawl, while Lady Moya was taking the oars, NOT swung

in a circle, and had the sun NOT risen, in three minutes more we would have bumped ourselves into the State

of Connecticut. The cottage stood on one horn of a tiny harbor. Beyond it, weatherbeaten shingled houses,

saillofts, and wharfs stretched cosily in a halfcircle. Back of them rose splendid elms and the delicate spire

of a church, and from the unruffled surface of the harbor the masts of many fishingboats. Across the water,

on a grassgrown point, a whitewashed lighthouse blushed in the crimson glory of the sun. Except for an

oysterman in his boat at the end of the wharf, and the smoke from the chimney of his cottage, the little

village slept, the harbor slept. It was a picture of perfect content, confidence, and peace. "Oh!" cried the Lady

Lord Ivy swung the bow about and raced toward the wharf. The others stood up and cheered hysterically.

At the sound and at the sight of us emerging so mysteriously from the fog, the man in the fishingboat raised

himself to his full height and stared as incredulously as though he beheld a mermaid. He was an old man, but

straight and tall, and the oysterman's boots stretching to his hips made him appear even taller than he was. He

had a bristling white beard and his face was tanned to a fierce copper color, but his eyes were blue and young

"Are you from the Patience?" he shouted. In chorus we answered that we were, and Ivy pulled the yawl

But already the old man had turned and, making a megaphone of his hands, was shouting to the cottage.

"Mother!" he cried, "mother, here are folks from the wreck. Get coffee and blankets andand baconand

But Aldrich, excited and eager, pulled out a roll of bills and shook them at the man.

"Do you want to earn ten dollars?" he demanded; "then chase yourself to the village and bring the constable."

Lady Moya exclaimed bitterly, Lord Ivy swore, Kinney in despair uttered a dismal howl and dropped his

"It's no use, Mr. Aldrich," I said. Seated in the stern, the others had hidden me from the fisherman. Now I

stood up and he saw me. I laid one hand on his, and pointed to the tin badge on his suspender.

"He is the village constable himself," I explained. I turned to the lovely lady. "Lady Moya," I said, "I want to

introduce you to my father!" I pointed to the vinecovered cottage. "That's my home," I said. I pointed to the

sleeping town. "That," I told her, "is the village of Fairport. Most of it belongs to father. You are all very