"
"Where, in India? Was one standing on the ground looking at his double
go to heaven? Or was it at one of those drawing-room shows where a
medium holds conversation with your soul, while your body sleeps on the
lounge? By George, Crocker, I thought you were a sensible man."
No wonder I got angry. But I might have come at some proper estimation
of Farrar's incredulity by that time.
"I suppose you wouldn't take a lady's word," I growled.
"Not for that," he said, busy again with the sail stops; "nor St.
Chrysostom's, were he to come here and vouch for it. It is too damned
improbable."
"Stranger things than that have happened," I retorted, fuming.
"Not to any of us," he said. Presently he added, chuckling: "He'd better
not get into the clutches of that man Drew."
"What do you mean?" I demanded. Farrar was exasperating at times.
"Drew will wind those handcuffs on him like tourniquets," he laughed.
There seemed to be something behind this remark, but before I could
inquire into it we were interrupted by Mr. Cooke, who was standing on
the beach, swearing and gesticulating for the boat.
"I trust," said Farrar, as we rowed ashore, "that this blind excitement
will continue, and that we shall have the extreme pleasure of setting
down our friend in Her Majesty's dominions with a yachting-suit and
a ham sandwich."
We sat down to a hasty breakfast, in the middle of which the Celebrity
arrived.
Pages:
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162