Driven to Bay, Volume III by Florence Marryat

He did not stir for some moments after she had disappeared. He was fearful lest the sailors on deck should suspect there was some connection between them if they quitted the place together. And his reflections as he paced to and fro the berth, were anything but pleasant ones.

‘How _dared_ she follow me? ' he soliloquised, with rage and anger gnawing at his heart. ‘She has blighted my last chance, frustrated all my plans, and now defies me to save myself! Farrell, of course, has blurted out all that infernal business to her. I suppose that was the revenge he threatened me with the other night; and she will use it as a weapon against me. But I will put a stop to her tongue, curse her! She shall not stand in my way to fortune.'

He thought he might venture to leave the spare galley by this time, and making his way over the wet deck, he walked straight aft to the saloon, and throwing himself on one of the lounges, called the steward to fetch him a brandy-and-soda.

He had never felt so upset in his life as he did from this annoying interview. It had half maddened him! What on earth could he do or say to stop the chattering tongue of a jealous and spiteful woman? It would be as easy, he thought, to dam the falls of Niagara! And it took more than one brandy to quiet in any degree his shaken and agitated nerves.

Then he rose and walked, trembling in every limb, to his own cabin, and, locking the door, threw himself down upon the bed and tried to think what was best to be done. One thing only seemed clear to him. If he allowed Iris and Farrell to have their own way, he stood a very good chance of ending his days as a felon! She had said that Farrell held the _proofs_ of his forgery! What proofs? Where had he procured them? What did he retain them for, except to work his ruin? _If_ he could only get rid of those proofs, he would be safe. But then there was Iris -- his bane and his curse -- always ready to reappear and spoil his chances with Grace Vansittart. She was too virtuous to consent to go halves with him in obtaining their mutual freedom; but she would not prove too virtuous, he would bet, to drag him from the quiet and respectable life he intended to lead, back to poverty, and shame, and public disgrace! What if he could get rid of them _both_ together! If he could only induce Iris, on the pretence of following her wishes in the matter, to bring him the proofs that Farrell held against him, by night, and then --

‘But no,' he thought, with a visible shudder, as his hands twitched nervously, ‘I couldn't -- _I couldn't_! I am in her devilish clutches, -- actually in her power, and there is no way out of it but one. I must give up Grace, and all my future prospects, and return to my old life of hopeless impecuniosity. Oh, it is _too_ hard! Why on earth was I such a fool as to let her discover my intentions? I ought to be hung, for such a piece of senseless imbecility.'

Here he lay for some time in silence, thinking deeply. After a while, a cold, cruel smile crept over his hard features, as though his perplexity were solved.

‘Of course, _the surgery_. Nothing can be easier; and I'll have those proofs, if nothing else. I'll send Iris a model letter, asking her to meet me to-night in the spare galley, to settle what is best to be done in the matter; and if I can persuade her to bring the proofs with her, I'll take good care she doesn't take them back again. I'll put one witness against me out of the way, at all events, until I have determined what to do with the other.'

After this fashion Godfrey Harland talked to himself, whilst locked up in his berth; and by the time the dinner-bell rang, he felt too nervous and excited to trust himself to join the other passengers.

It was a bleak, cold evening. The sky was blue, and spangled with bright stars, and every now and then the moon shot forth white darts of light; but they were frequently obscured by heavy squalls which covered the heavens, whilst they lasted, with a heavy drapery.

In the rare intervals, the white sails and masts of the _Pandora_ stood out in bold relief against the sky, and the crested swells were lit up with rays of silver. The ultra-marine blue above, with its thousands of little lamps, contrasted strangely with the sage-green waters; and a wicked-looking cloud that was rising astern served as a most becoming background for the sea and air.

The deck was cast well in shadow when the figure of a man, who had been standing about for some time in feverish suspense, emerged from the shade of the companion-ladder, and stole towards the surgery door, which was between the long saloon passage and the berth of the second officer. Glancing around more than once, to make sure that no one was at hand, he pushed back the lock with his clasp-knife, and with a sudden wrench turning the handle, disappeared from sight, and closed the door behind him.

The saloon passengers, as they finished their dinner, rose from table and donned their overcoats and wraps, with a view to going on deck.

‘Now, that's a bargain, doctor! ' laughed Alice Leyton; ‘six pairs of gloves if the _Pandora_ gets in under three days?'

‘Yes, Miss Leyton; and from the very best glover in Canterbury.'

‘I take sixes, remember, and never wear less than eight buttons,' said Alice.

‘Don't count your buttons before we reach the goal,' replied the doctor merrily. ‘I think (luckily for me) they are still looming a long way in the distance; for if we do not get a strong breeze by to-morrow at latest, Mr Coffin tells me we cannot possibly drop anchor till Sunday. But if you will excuse me, I will run and get the paregoric lozenges I promised Miss Vere.'

And Dr Lennard disappeared into the passage.

‘Very strange,' he muttered to himself, as he turned the handle of the surgery door. ‘I thought I locked it before dinner. Hullo! hullo! Who's that? What are you doing in here?'