“Dear me, no,” replied Stranleigh languidly. “Your fool of a gunsmith
did not understand your instructions, and not knowing where to find you,
and supposing you were acting for me, he telegraphed asking which of two
rifles named should be sent. Learning that twelve had been ordered, I
thought of telegraphing in the old phrase, ‘Six of one and half a dozen
of the other,’ but I finally took on a score altogether, ten of each
kind with ammunition to match.”
“Why purchase more guns than I did, if you’re going to drop them in the
Bay of Biscay.”
“Oh, they’ll make the bigger plump when they go down.”
“What harm will they do aboard, sir? If we don’t need them, we won’t
use them. If we do need them, then you’ll be sorry they’re in the Bay of
Biscay.”
“So you’re going to choose the Bay of Biscay, are you? I thought perhaps
you might toss them over farther along than that. I hope you understand,
Mackeller, I am on a mission of peace, and if, for any reason, the
yacht should be searched, your rifles and ammunition would be rather a
giveaway, wouldn’t they?”
“I don’t see that. You’ve got more than a score of men aboard here, and
the repeaters can be used for sporting purposes.”
“All right, Mackeller, don’t be alarmed. The boxes are stowed safely
away in the forrard hold, and we’ll not drop them overboard anywhere.
After all, you know the locality for which we are bound better than I
do, and so your rifles and ammunition may prove friends in need. I see
the boy hovering about in the offing, and I am sure he wishes to conduct
you to your cabin. By the time you’ve washed the railway dust from your
sylphlike form, the dinner gong will be filling the air with a welcome
melody. I’ve got my own favorite chef with me, and I understand we
shall not need to live on porridge and tinned milk. And, by the way,
Mackeller, did you happen to pack such wearing apparel as dinner togs in
your dunnage, as you call it?”
“Dinner togs?” echoed Mackeller, aghast. “Why, hang it all, I’m a mining
engineer. I haven’t even a starched shirt with me, let alone a dress
suit. I didn’t know I was coming to an evening party?”
“No, you paid attention to the trivialities of life, such as rifles and
ammunition, and quite neglected the more important affair of costume.”
“I’ll eat forward with the men,” said Mackeller gruffly.
“Oh, there’s no need for that. As you tried to bolt through the door
from my breakfast room the other day, when Ponderby was on guard, I saw
him measure your proportions critically with his eye, in case it should
be necessary for him to use that force which I deplore, so I told
Ponderby to make a guess at what would fit you, and to go to the extent
of three evening suits of varying sizes made to order. You will find
them all laid out in your room, and the able Ponderby will give you
critical advice regarding which fits you best.”
“Well, sir, if you expect me to look pretty every night----”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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