The Gully of Bluemansdyke, and Other storiesDoyle, Arthur Conan
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The Gully of Bluemansdyke, and Other stories
Doyle, Arthur Conan
Detective and mystery stories, English; Fiction; Short stories
"I didn't think you were such a fool, Hammond," said Dick Merton
testily. "If you try to fix a literal meaning on the twaddle that every
drunken man talks, you will come to some queer conclusions. Let us
follow their example, and go on deck. You need fresh air, I think.
Depend upon it, your liver is out of order. A sea-voyage will do you a
world of good."
"If ever I see the end of this one," I groaned, "I'll promise never to
venture on another. They are laying the cloth, so it's hardly worth
while my going up. I'll stay below and finish my smoke."
"I hope dinner will find you in a more pleasant state of mind," said
Dick; and he went out, leaving me to my thoughts until the clang of the
great gong summoned us to the saloon.
My appetite, I need hardly say, had not been improved by the incidents
which had occurred during the day. I sat down, however, mechanically at
the table, and listened to the talk which was going on around me. There
were nearly a hundred first-class passengers, and as the wine began to
circulate, their voices combined with the clash of the dishes to form a
perfect Babel. I found myself seated between a very stout and nervous
old lady and a prim little clergyman; and as neither made any advances,
I retired into my shell, and spent my time in observing the appearance
of my fellow-voyagers. I could see Dick in the dim distance dividing his
attentions between a jointless fowl in front of him and a self-possessed
young lady at his side. Captain Dowie was doing the honours at my end,
while the surgeon of the vessel was seated at the other. I was glad to
notice that Flannigan was placed almost opposite to me. As long as I had
him before my eyes I knew that, for the time at least, we were safe. He
was sitting with what was meant to be a sociable smile on his grim
face. It did not escape me that he drank largely of wine--so largely
that even before the dessert appeared his voice had become decidedly
husky. His friend Muller was seated a few places lower down. He ate
little, and appeared to be nervous and restless.
"Now, ladies," said our genial captain, "I trust that you will consider
yourselves at home aboard my vessel. I have no fears for the gentlemen.
A bottle of champagne, steward. Here's to a fresh breeze and a quick
passage! I trust our friends in America will hear of our safe arrival in
twelve days, or a fortnight at the very latest."
I looked up. Quick as was the glance which passed between Flannigan and
his confederate, I was able to intercept it. There was an evil smile
upon the former's thin lips.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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