He had scarcely uttered these words before the reason for the Maria's
abrupt departure became apparent. The anchorage of the yacht had been at
a spot whence nearly the whole south of the lake towards Far Harbor was
open, whilst a high tongue of land hid that part from us on the shore.
As he spoke, there shot before our eyes a steaming tug-boat, and a
second look was not needed to assure me that she was the “H. Sinclair,
of Far Harbor.” They had perceived her from the yacht an hour since, and
it was clear that my client, prompt to act as to think, had decided at
once to put out and lead her a blind chase, so giving the Celebrity a
chance to make good his escape.
The surprise and apprehension created amongst us by her sudden
appearance was such that none of us, for a space, spoke or moved. She
was about a mile off shore, but it was even whether the chief would
decide that his quarry had been left behind in the inlet and turn in,
or whether he would push ahead after the yacht. He gave us an abominable
five minutes of uncertainty. For when he came opposite the cove he
slowed up, apparently weighing his chances. It was fortunate that we
were hidden from his glasses by a copse of pines. The Sinclair increased
her speed and pushed northward after the Maria. I turned to the
Celebrity.
“If you wish to escape, now is your chance,” I said.
For contrariness he was more than I have ever had to deal with. Now he
crossed his knees and laughed.
“It strikes me you had better escape, Crocker,” said he. “You have more
to run for.”
I looked across at Miss Thorn. She had told him, then, of my
predicament. And she did not meet my eye. He began to whittle again, and
remarked:
“It is only seventeen miles or so across these hills to Far Harbor, old
chap, and you can get a train there for Asquith.”
“Just as you choose,” said I, shortly.
With that I started off to gain the top of the promontory in order to
watch the chase. I knew that this could not last as long as that of the
day before. In less than three hours we might expect the Maria and the
tug in the cove. And, to be frank, the indisposition of the Celebrity to
run troubled me. Had he come to the conclusion that it was just as
well to submit to what seemed the inevitable and so enjoy the spice of
revenge over me? My thoughts gave zest to my actions, and I was climbing
the steep, pine-clad slope with rapidity when I heard Miss Trevor below
me calling out to wait for her. At the point of our ascent the ridge
of the tongue must have been four hundred feet above the level of the
water, and from this place of vantage we could easily make out the Maria
in the distance, and note from time to time the gain of the Sinclair.
“It wasn't fair of me, I know, to leave Marian,” said Miss Trevor,
apologetically, “but I simply couldn't resist the temptation to come up
here.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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