The Lightning Conductor Discovers America

TO HER F

ESS O

SS. Eva

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st Me

train to begin a letter to you. I dare say, anyhow, I shan't close it till the last minute, with a P. S. to say we're arriving safely-if we do! One never knows nowadays. And we have on board a man who's been torpedoed twice. I hope he isn't the kind to whom everything happens in threes. By the way, he's the Ship's

ented to come over here, even for the three months I've made him (figuratively speaking) "sign on for," if the doctors hadn't all said he'd be a crock for months. Even he has to admit that he may as well crock in America as anywhere else; and I've persuaded him that I can't possibly decide what to do with the place Cousin John Randolph Payton left me on Long Island without his expert advice. I

he admires me as much as I do him. And really, I'm not so bad to look at, I notice, now I've begun to live again and don't need to worry over Jack every instant. I had feared it might be necessary to own up to twenty-nine, only two years short of my re

o you toasted, iced, sugared, and spiced, in future letters, so she may as well be introduced to you now: "The Countess of Lane-Miss Patricia Moore." Nice name, isn't it? Almost as nice as yours before you were married to Monty. She has informed me, however, that she hates the Patricia part because it sounds as if she turned up her nose in pride of bi

ble adjective for her. Constantly, when looking at the creature, I find myself wanting to hum, "Believe me, if all those endearing young charms," etc. There are simply crowds of them-charms, I mean. Big blue eyes under those eyelashes, and above them, too,

y. All the same, I'm sorry for her. I have a sort of impression-but why be a croaking raven? I really don't see why! Every prospect pleases, and there's no reason man should be particularly vile. When

ame being Laurence. She worships the ground he walks on, she says, which is sweet of he

Long Island (or rather his people had it) and he came into it later when the others had kindly died: a very historic old house, according to Miss Pat. She's intensely proud of her parents' romance, and the fact that Larry is at this present time

re leaving France, and she looks sixteen. So naturally Jack and I are curious to behold L

iest woman, and died of her triumph. Larry didn't know what to do with the child. But some sympathetic soul who wanted to save the dear boy trouble advised him to plant his little flower in the soil o

tters and cheques. Apparently Larry was under the impression that once a schoolgirl, always a schoolgirl. Anyhow, he put off indefinitely the happy day when he could take his fair young daughter to reign over his home. The Mother Superior wrote when Pat was going to be eighteen, and Larry said he would come, but didn't. Patty is sure he couldn't, because "he adores her just as she ado

I'm much mistaken if Angéle isn't about a hundred demon-power. She's geared terribly high, can "crank" herself I should imagine, and has the smartest new type of body, all glittering paint and varnish. Isn't it nice that her name should be Angéle? It wasn't the Mother Superior who engaged this guardian angel for Miss Moore, but the dear old Paris friend of Larry's who advised the convent

e, and because she wants him to burst upon me as a brilliant surprise; but she has shown me as much of the trousseau as her stateroom and Angéle's can contain. The rest's in the hold, and forms quite a respectable cargo. If everythin

like Kidd's Pines. It's named after a clump of pines supposed to be a kind of landmark for treasure buried by Captain Kidd. Either the treasure is buried under the trees, somewhere between their roots an

e used to call it steerage!) Maybe you'll say that travelling third class doesn't usually make people mysterious: it makes them smell of disinfectants. Also it puts them Beyond the Pale. Not that I or any other nice woman can te

g and mysterious. Even if caught in the act of displaying his tongue to the

hird-class part, we can generally observe a young man who looks like an Italian prince (I mean, the way an Italian prince ought to look) telling the steerage children stories or teaching them games. I'm not sure if he's exactly handsome,

lways found that they know everything. Or what they don't k

Who is that man?"-another: "And how

ppose, my lady"-(Whiffitts will anticipate the far future

pening?) that Whiffitts was obliged to begin at the beginning, and not st

Storm. I say "supposed," advisedly. Because it may be anything. They don't worry with passenger lists for third-class people; they're just a seething, nameless mass, appa

othes might have been bought at a second hand-no, a fourth or fifth hand-shop. The creature wears flannel shirts (he seems, thank heaven, to have several to change with, of different colours) and they have low, turn-over collars. Apparent

he United States, and it came out then that there was no Peter Storm on board the Lusitania. Our Mystery explained, however, that in the third class there was a passenger registered as "Peter Sturm." The name, according to him, was spelled wrongly at the time. Nobody has since contradicted this statement, so it has been given the benefit of the doubt. Once more the man's luck bobbed up on board the Arabic, where he was saved again, and behaved well, rescuing a lot of people. What he did in that way on the Lusitania isn't known; but the searchlight of fame was turned full upon

somewhere or know the reason why! She's a stout, wildly untidy woman whose mouse-coloured hair is always coming down, though it's freely dotted with irrelevant tortoise-shell combs; and whose elaborate clothes look somehow insecure, the way scree does on the side of a mountain. Her ideas leap out of her brain like rabbits out of holes, and then go scuttling away again, to be followed ineffectively by others: and her latest is benefiting the Ship's Mystery. She's sure he can't

s, where there's such wide opportunity on one side or the other, that he isn't doing it. And Jack thinks so, too. I do hope

ommunications with the desired protégé. The first officer had promised to take her, and she asked me to join them. I happened to be talkin

s. A good many of the third-class passengers were writing letters on their knees, and the quaintest paper. Among

e said. "And the splendid th

aight, rather thin, and extremely dark, he reminded me of a cedar towering be

mysterious than ever. Because he had the air of being found out in something. And the blush began before Mrs. Shus

sengers, feel it's a shame you should be here. We want you to be up with us and-and telling us all about your adventures. The fa

ke one. But the colour effect was unrehearsed and unavoidable. I felt a regular blush of red to the head, as I used to say when I was small, and Pat grew scarlet as if she'd been suddenly slapped. I expected to see the forked lightning of scorn dart from those immense dark eyes of Storm's: but instead they crinkled up in an enga

. It's kind of you to think of promoting me, but this is my place. I shouldn't feel at home going f

le millionairess assured him, while my mouth felt dry,

ventures. As for clothes, I can take up a collection for you from among the g

d I haven't a story worth telling. I'm no Scherezadé. I'm very grateful for your inte

t," the unfortunate lady persi

k Mr. Petrel-I mean Mr. Storm-can decide f

beyond me at Pat. "I'm rea

preferred to remain in the kitchen garden with

o show my appreciation of your gallant conduct on the Arabic. You're evidently a man of edu

answered coolly. "Do I

ow. I must take your word for it. I guess, though, y

he craze for travel in my blood as a boy." As he

several languages?" s

an-and a little French, a

et quite a good

end to

find work anywhere now, without influenc

hatever

can do for you on land, since you won't accept anybody's assistance on water," chirped the benefactress. "With your

h, I couldn't decide. He murmured that she was very kind, but that he wouldn't trouble her. She mus

a millionairess. He hinted that there was more to see of third-class life, and moved us on when our leading lady had offered a royal handshake to the steerage hero. She would no doubt have pinned a V. C.

ears) slept and bathed (if at all) and ate. After a boring ten or fifteen minutes we were returning by the way we had come, when a sheet of

s along the top of the page, and they jumped right at my eyes, though of course I didn't mean to read them-"in case you don't get the wireless. You must

sentence

t of a dull house in a slummy street, to show for an instant a

ppened, our Mystery was no longer engaged in writing. He'd stuffed his pad and pencil into a pocket of his awful coat when the good ship Shuster first bore down on him under full sail. Now, on our return, he was standing at some distance pointing out porpoises to passengers and rather cons

most useful in social intercourse. But the man didn't start. He could not have helped hearing my siren hoot, but he never turned a hair or anything else. He went on pointing out perfectly irrelevant porpoises. I had to admire his nerve! For instan

e announcement, so I added, with an eye on the back of the Mystery's neck, "Well, I suppose there's no use keeping i

and only they could tell whether it darkened with dread or twinkled with suppressed laughter. Even Mrs. Shuster hadn't the "cheek" to try and attract the man's attention, and

ned all the romance, and made him a respectable paid propaganda or somethin

for Mrs. Shuster-she mightn't have minded the Maxim gun of that long-drawn "d-r-r-readful!" but her very vitals would have melted over the "old lady." Despite her largeness and oddness of appearance generally, she considers herself a young widow, with a personal fascination beyond that of her banking account. I, with the mellow leniency of-let me see?-twenty-six, find this pathetic. But Patsey on the sunny s

ch

Shuster, or some one, or else by big bumpy waves which make me want not to write letters. At this moment Patsey is cal

eat Jack (who's never seen the lady you know)

ur affe

ll