A May afternoon was drawing to a close; the last appointment had been

made for the morrow, and the last client for the day still lingered

with Athalie where she sat with her head propped thoughtfully on one

slim hand, her gaze concentrated on the depths of the crystal sphere.

After a long silence she said: "You need not be anxious. Her wireless

apparatus is out of order. They are repairing it.... It was a bad

storm."

"Is there any ice near her?"

After a pause: "I can see none."

"Any ships?"

"One of her own line, hull down. They have been exchanging signals....

There seems to be no necessity for her to stand by. The worst is

over.... Yes, the Empress of Borneo proceeds. The Empress of

Formosa will be reported this evening. You need not be anxious:

she'll dock on Monday."

"Are you sure?" said the man as Athalie lifted her eyes from the

crystal and smiled reassuringly at him. He was a stocky, red-faced,

trim, middle-aged man; but his sanguine visage bore the haggard

imprint of sleepless nights, and the edges of his teeth had bitten his

under lip raw.

Athalie glanced carelessly at the crystal, then nodded.

"Yes," she said patiently. "I am sure of it, Mr. Clements. The

Empress of Formosa will dock on Monday--about--nine in the morning.

She will be reported by wireless from the Empress of Borneo this

evening.... They have been relaying it from the Delaware Capes....

There will be an extra edition of the evening papers. You may dismiss

all anxiety."

The man rose, stood a moment, his features working with emotion.

"I'm not a praying man," he said. "But if this is so--I'll pray for

you.... It can't hurt you anyway--" he checked himself, stammering,

and the deep colour stained him from his brow to his thick, powerful

neck as he stood fumbling with his portfolio.

But Athalie smilingly put aside the recompense he offered: "It is too

much, Mr. Clements."

"It is worth it to the Company--if the news is true--"

"Then wait until your steamer docks."

"But you say you are certain--"

"Yes, I am: but you are not. My refusal of payment will encourage

you to confidence in me. You have been ill with anxiety, Mr. Clements.

I know what that means. And now your bruised mind cannot realise that

the trouble is ended--that there is no reason now for the deadly fear

that has racked you. But everything will help you now--what I have

told you--and my refusal of payment until your own eyes corroborate

everything I have said."




readonlinefreebook.com Copyright 2016 - 2024