Mr. Cray

“ Cray listened in rebellious silence.
“Your great country, Mr. Cray,” she wound up, “has shown the world what it thinks of liquor.”
“Because they cheated,” he answered gravely.
“In her way she has,” Mr. Cray acknowledged. “In my small way, I shall continue to show the world what I think of it. Steward, hurry up with that wine.”
Mrs. Green shook her head but her smile was indulgent.
“Obstinate!” she murmured. “We will have a little talk after dinner, Mr. Cray. I will make you a little coffee up on deck.”
“I never drink coffee,” her victim lied. “I always take brandy after my meals.” ”

“ Mr. Cray made his contented but wondering way into the lounge. A tall and very elegant-looking young woman rose to her feet and came to meet him. Mr. Cray's eyes shone and his smile was wonderful.
“Sara!” he gasped. “Gee, this is great!”
“Dad!” she replied, saluting him on both cheeks. “You old dear!”
They went off arm in arm to a corner.
“To think of your being here to welcome me!” Mr. Cray murmured ecstatically.
“And why not?” the young lady replied. “If ever anyone deserved a welcome home, it's you. Twelve months' work in a hut in France is scarcely a holiday.” ”

“ Mr. Cray was speechless. Blanche Esholt, conscious of her red eyes, stole away, a proceeding which Mrs. Green watched with satisfaction.
“A forward child, that,” she said. “Mr. Cray, I am sure you will be glad to know that I have decided to join your game of poker.”
“To do what?” Mr. Cray faltered.
“We will promenade for a moment,” she continued, propelling him along. “I feel that you do not altogether understand me, Mr. Cray. I am an independent woman—my life and training have made me so—but I am not averse to harmless recreations. ”

“ AT dinner-time that evening Mr. Cray received a further shock. In the chair exactly opposite his own, which had been vacant since Toulon, he discovered Mrs. Richard Green.
“I have changed my place,” she announced. “I thought I should like to come to your table.”
The Captain, seated a few places away, smiled. The young invalid officer exchanged a glance of amusement with his sister. The manufacturer of reapers, who was at a table some distance away, telegraphed his congratulations across the room. Mr. Cray, without knowing exactly why, felt his savoir faire deserting him. ”

“ Cray assented weakly. “I guess I get on pretty well, though.”
“I suppose you think you do,” Mrs. Green rejoined reprovingly. “You men never know when you're well off and you never know when you're badly off. You're a poor sort of creatures, anyhow, to go wandering about the world by yourselves.”
“I'm not always alone,” Mr. Cray protested. ”

“ Cray,” she sighed, “you are one of those men who find out everything. I really don't see that it is of any use trying to keep it secret from you. Guy and I are in a very strange position. You can't imagine what has happened, I suppose?”
“I cannot,” Mr. Cray acknowledged. “You've got me fairly guessing.”
She looked around as though to be sure that no one was within hearing. Then she leaned toward her companion.
“Mr. Cray,” she whispered, “that man—that horrible man Carding—is no friend of ours. He is an American detective taking us back to New York. We are under arrest.” ”

“ You may be what you seem. I don't know. You handle the cards too slickly for my liking, and if you want to know my opinion of you, you can have it.”
“My dear Mrs. Green!” Mr. Cray faltered.
“Don't 'my dear' me!” that lady thundered, striking the table with her fist “I've formed my opinion of you, Mr. Cray. I believe you to be a professional gambler, and not one penny of my money do I part with.”
A sudden wave of emotion seemed to pass over the little company. Blanche Esholt's face was hidden in her handkerchief, Thomson's was buried in his arms. Mr. Cray himself was pained and humiliated. ”

“ Cray was very kind to me. He gave me wine and let me sit down in his box.”
“And I understood you to say that your name was Christine Saboa,” Mr. Cray observed, too eager for some measure of elucidation to be anything but ruthless.
“I am Christine Saboa,” was the reply, spoken in a dull, hollow voice. “The whole world knows that.”
Mr. Cray glanced across at his male vis-à-vis. Major Hartopp sighed slightly and shook his head with a warning glance toward the figure at his side, and Mr. Cray, understanding his gesture to mean that his wife was to be humored, relapsed into silence. ”

“ Cray replied, with a little shiver. “Too busy over there.”
Sara slipped her hand through her father's arm.
“We'll have a lovely time for a month or two, Dad,” she said. “You know how happy I am with George, but this English life is just a little cramped. I suppose I must have a bit of your wandering spirit in me, Dad. Anyhow, for just these few months let's see a lot of each other. You're just as fond of adventure as ever, aren't you?”
A slow smile parted Mr. Cray's lips; a fervid light shone in his eyes.
“Sara,” he whispered, “after the last twelve months I'm spoiling for some real fun. ”

“ There's your money. I can only say that we are sorry. We are entirely at your mercy.”
Mr. Cray stood by his chair. The steward had gone into the inner bar. It chanced that there was no one else in the room.
“Will you give me your word of honor, all of you,” he said, “never to attempt this sort of thing again?”
The reply was unanimous and convincing. Mr. Cray resumed his seat.
“Boys,” he proposed, “I guess we'd better call these chips in and start the game again. Mrs. Richard Green is coming to join us. Don't look so astonished, all of you. Give me the chips. ”

“ Mr. Cray drank with Mrs. Medlicott and Miss Medlicott, Mr. Wallin drank with Mr. Medlicott the two old gentlemen drank with each other, Mr. Hiram Croft drank with everybody. When he set down his glass, it was empty. His words reflected the expression of pleasure on everyone‘s face.
"Mr. Cray," he pronounced, "there can be no manner of doubt about the qualities of this remarkable beverage. I hail you, sir, as one of the greatest discoverers of the age, one of the greatest friends the American stomach has ever had." ”

“ Nathaniel Long followed his friend's earnest gaze with some interest.
“Joseph,” he asked, “do you know the man in the dinner-coat—not the Englishman? You seem to be staring at him hard enough.”
“He was on the steamer with me,” Mr. Cray acknowledged.
“That fellow's seen the inside of Sing-Sing more than once,” Mr. Long declared. “Some crook, he is, I can tell you. I don't know what name he goes by now, but they used to call him Jimmy the Eel. He seems to have got in with a swell crowd.”
“He's never been a detective, by any chance, I suppose?” Mr. Cray asked his partner. ”

“ A LITTLE movement by Mr. Cray's side brought him back to the present. He glanced up. A tall man of early middle age was taking his seat. The two men exchanged greetings.
“Mr. Schreed?” Mr. Cray observed.
The man winced a little but acknowledged his identity.
“And your name?” he asked.
“Mr. Joesph P. Cray,” Mr. Cray replied. “We seem to be neighbors, Mr. Schreed. Will you join me in a bottle of wine?”
“That's a great idea,” was the hearty response.
So Mr. Cray did what those few months ago he would have deemed impossible; he fraternized with Mr. Otto Schreed, exporter of canned beef. ”

“ After a Turkish bath, a visit to the barber's and the manicurist, he met his friend and late business partner, and the two men made their way to the smartest restaurant in New York, where a table had been reserved for them. With elaborate care Mr. Cray selected a wonderful dinner, ordered, with a prodigious sigh, a large bottle of mineral water, and closing his eyes for a moment, drank an imaginary cocktail.
“Joseph, my boy, what are you going to do about it?” Nathaniel Long inquired. “You're in the prime of life, and a very rich man. ”

“ Cray and three other guests awaiting him. Mr Cray was busy mixing cocktails, so was unable to shake hands. He looked around and nodded.
“Glad you're punctual, Schreed,” he said. “Pleasant trip?”
“Fine!”
“Business turn out all right?”
“Couldn't have been better. Wont you introduce me to these gentlemen, Cray?”
“Sure!” Mr. Cray replied. “Gentlemen, this is Mr. Otto Schreed—Colonel Wilmot, of the American Intelligence Department, Mr. Neville of the same service, and Doctor Lemarten.” ”

“ Mark Cray, as he walked home with his wife afterwards, remarked that it was "slow." But nobody dreamt of anything like fear for the doctor, save his daughter and the Reverend Mr. Stephenson.
"I can never be sufficiently grateful to you, sir," murmured the clergyman, as he was leaving. "Neither can my brother. You have done for us what I believe no other man living would have done. May Heaven reward you, and restore you to health and strength!" ”

“ Mina Hartopp furtively dabbed her beautiful eyes with her handkerchief.
“You are very kind,” she sobbed, “but nothing can help us now. Our pictures will be in all the p-papers; Guy will be branded as an adventurer, and I as a fraud. You had better take no more notice of us, Mr. Cray. We are not worth it.” ”

“ It was his custom to take down the names of his patients ere he entered upon their cases, and he looked again at the memorandum-book before him. "Cray."
"Your husband is not the Mr. Cray who was connected with the Great Chwddyn Mine!" he exclaimed. "Marcus Cray?"
She was startled to tremor. There was no cause for it, of course the fact of its being known that she was Mark's wife could not result in their taking him. But these unpleasant recognitions do bring a fear with them, startling as it is vague.
"Don't be alarmed," said the surgeon kindly, discerning the exact state of the case. ”

“ Mr. Cray half rose in his seat. He was a little uneasy.
“Say, has she spotted you yet?” he asked his companion.
King shook his head.
“No, I've been in the background all the time.”
“Follow me into the shop, then,” Cray directed. “You can ask for something or other. We can't afford to hang about.”
Mr. Cray stepped to the pavement, crossed it with incredible swiftness, and entered the shop. Mrs. Wieller was the only customer present. Before her on the counter was stretched her amber necklace, just drawn from the box.
The shopman appeared to be examining the catch. ”

“ But to win a way in a town is one thing; to win hearts in it is another; and Dr. Davenal was certainly not prepared to hear, as he was about to do, that Mr. Cray had gained one particular heart, and had come then to ask his, Dr. Davenal's, approbation to his having done it.
Neal threw open the door of this room for his master, bowed him in with the air of a groom of the chambers, and Mr. Cray started from his tilting position to find his feet. As they stood together his height was somewhat under the doctor's, and his only reached the middle height.
"Is it you, Mark?" ”

“ Mr. Cray assented cheerfully. “We'll get that letter back, all right, and before any mischief's been done. Not only that, but we'll carry the war into the enemy's camp. We'll find out for whom she is working.”
Sir George looked at his father-in-law with something of that wondering admiration which he had more than once in his lifetime felt for him.
“Are you in earnest?” he asked breathlessly.
“Sure thing,” Mr. Cray replied. “I'll lay ten to one I could put my hand on the letter tonight. You get home to Sara now. By the by, are you seeing Mrs. Wieller again?” ”

“ Cray grunted.
“Truth is truth, though she's my daughter,” continued Mr. Rose, vaguely. “She's too good-looking. Sometimes when I've taken her up to market I've seen the folks fair turn their backs on the cattle and stare at her instead.”
Mr. Cray sniffed; louder, perhaps, than he had intended. “Beautiful that rose-bush smells,” he remarked, as his friend turned and eyed him.
“What is the consequence?” demanded the farmer, relaxing his gaze. “She looks in the glass and sees herself, and then she gets miserable and uppish because there ain't nobody in these parts good enough for her to marry.” ”

“ Mr. Cray rejoined, “whether I know as much about either of you as any person with an ounce of common sense ought to.”
Major Hartopp played a wonderful approach and watched his ball run to the hole. Then he turned toward his companion, the flicker of a smile upon his lips.
“These flashes of superintelligence, Cray,” he declared, “convince me that you are really a great man. Do you realize that I am three up to bogey?”
That afternoon there was only one topic of conversation in the lounge and on the terrace of the Golf Hotel. ”

“ A white dressing-gown hung loosely upon her; she was still wearing her black mask. Her eyes were fixed upon Mr. Cray.
“You must come,” she begged, speaking very softly yet with almost singular distinctness. “You must please come. They will not let me sleep. They call for you all the time.”
“I am sorry,” was the hasty response, “but I'm just off for home.”
Mr. Cray rose his feet with determination. His host followed his example.
“Mina,” the latter protested, “you really must not worry Mr. Cray now. You are quite mistaken in him. He's as much outside all this business as I am.” ”

“ Mr. Cray declared as he opened the door of the car and stretched out his hand for the luncheon basket. “Peter Gibson, his name is, of the Gibson Shoe Company, of Lynn. Some plant he owns, I can tell you.”
“I love him for his sex,” the young lady declared, accepting a sandwich from the very magnificent collection which Mr. Cray had spread out. “I should have hated you to have been faithless before we met.”
Mr. Cray produced a bottle of wine and a corkscrew, and a very agreeable little picnic followed. The photographer, having completed his “stills,” was summoned to join in the feast. ”