My heart was in my mouth, for I could not bear the thought of leaving
Torrence. He had been the leading spirit in everything, and from my
early childhood I had always believed that what Torrence could not do,
could not be done. I had brought some manuscripts with me for which I
hoped to find a publisher, but now the thought of it was abhorrent. I
could not answer, and so Torrence continued:
"To-morrow morning, after breakfast, I shall leave you. Don’t ask what I
am going to do, because I don’t know; but I am off in search of luck,
and shall rely largely on my Yankee brains to bring me out on top of the
game. Don’t expect me ’till you see me, but I shall either write or
return when there is anything to tell."
"Are you going back to Gravesend?" I asked.
"Probably; but don’t hamper me with questions. In the first place it
won’t help you to know what I am doing; and in the second place, it
won’t help me to have you know. You can picture me as building the air
ship, or running a haberdashery, or anything you please; but remember
that whenever I run my nose up against luck you’ll be sure to know it;
and I only ask that you will do the same by me."
I gave him my hand, and then we ordered two portions of brandy and a
bottle of Apollinaris.
While we were disposing of this, and still smoking our cigars, the
_portières_ of our alcove were pulled suddenly apart, and a rough,
unshaved face thrust in at the aperture, and as quickly withdrawn.
Although it was for only an instant, I recognized the face as that of
the sailor I had seen on the Thames boat. Torrence frowned, but did not
look surprised.
When we got up to go, Torrence insisted on paying the bill out of his
portion, which he did; and then, just as we were about to pass out into
the stormy street, the same rough, dirty looking sailor approached us
from one of the alcoves.
"Another word with you, stranger," said the man, advancing and touching
his hat to Torrence.
"Certainly," as if he had never seen the fellow before, and then turning
to me, Torrence added:
"Would you mind waiting a minute, Gurt, while I speak to this man?" and
without another word, the twain entered one of the alcoves. I amused
myself looking at some fish in an aquarium that stood near the entrance,
and in watching the great flakes of snow falling against the glass panel
of the door. How long I remained thus occupied is difficult to guess,
but it seemed interminable. The sailor had taken the precaution to draw
the curtains after him, so it was impossible to hear anything they said,
and even the sound of their voices was drowned by the clatter of dishes,
the tramping of waiters, and the noise of arriving and departing guests.
At last the interview was ended, and my brother came out with rather a
singular expression, as I thought, and we started for home.
"And what does he want?" I asked as we trudged along the sidewalk.
Torrence laughed; and then, as if thinking of how to reply, said:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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