In a Steamer Chair And Other Stories by Robert Barr

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The grave military-looking gentleman at her side was Captain Tremain,
her husband, although in reality he was old enough to be her father. He
was a captain in the United States army, and had been stationed at some
fort near the Mexican border where he met the young girl whom he made
his wife. She had seen absolutely nothing of the world, and they were
now on their wedding trip to Europe, the first holiday he had taken for
many a year.

In an incredibly short space of time Mrs. Tremain was the acknowledged
belle of the ship. She could not have been more than nineteen or twenty
years of age, yet she was as perfectly at her ease, and as thoroughly a
lady as if she had been accustomed to palaces and castles for years. It
was astonishing to see how naturally she took to it. She had lived all
her life in a rough village in the wilds of the South-West, yet she had
the bearing of a duchess or a queen.

The second day out she walked the deck with the captain, which, as
everybody knows, is a very great honour. She always had a crowd of men
around her, and apparently did not care the snap of her pretty fingers
whether a woman on board spoke to her or not. Her husband was one of
those slow-going, sterling men whom you meet now and again, with no
nonsense about him, and with a perfect trust in his young wife. He was
delighted to see her enjoying her voyage so well, and proud of the
universal court that was paid to her. It was quite evident to everybody
on board but himself that Mrs. Tremain was a born coquette, and the way
she could use those dark, languishing, Spanish-Mexican eyes of hers was
a lesson to flirts all the world over. It didn't, apparently, so much
matter as long as her smiles were distributed pretty evenly over the
whole masculine portion of the ship. But by-and-by things began to
simmer down until the smiles were concentrated on the most utterly
objectionable man on board--Glendenning. She walked the deck with him,
she sat in cozy corners of the saloon with him, when there were not many
people there, and at night they placed their chairs in a little corner
of the deck where the electric light did not shine. One by one the other
admirers dropped off, and left her almost entirely to Glendenning.

Of all those of us who were deserted by Mrs. Tremain none took it so
hard as young Howard of Brooklyn. I liked Howard, for he was so palpably
and irretrievably young, through no fault of his own, and so thoroughly
ashamed of it. He wished to be considered a man of the world, and he had
grave opinions on great questions, and his opinions were ever so much
more settled and firm than those of us older people.

Young Howard confided a good deal in me, and even went so far one time
as to ask if I thought he appeared very young, and if I would believe he
was really as old as he stated.

I told him frankly I had taken him to be a very much older man than
that, and the only thing about him I didn't like was a certain cynicism
and knowledge of the world which didn't look well in a man who ought to
be thinking about the serious things of life. After this young Howard
confided in me even more than before. He said that he didn't care for
Mrs. Tremain in that sort of way at all. She was simply an innocent
child, with no knowledge of the world whatever, such as he and I
possessed. Her husband--and in this I quite agreed with him--had two
bad qualities: in the first place he was too easy going at the present,
and in the second place he was one of those quiet men who would do
something terrible if once he were aroused.

One day, as young Howard and I walked the deck together, he burst out
with this extraordinary sentiment--

"All women," he said, "are canting hypocrites."

"When a man says that," I answered, "he means some particular woman.
What woman have you in your eye, Howard?"

"No, I mean _all_ women. All the women on board this boat, for
instance."

"Except one, of course," I said.

"Yes," he answered, "except one. Look at the generality of women," he
cried bitterly; "especially those who are what they call philanthropic
and good. They will fuss and mourn over some drunken wretch who cannot
be reclaimed, and would be no use if he could, and they will spend their
time and sympathy over some creature bedraggled in the slums, whose only
hope can be death, and that as soon as possible, yet not one of them
will lift a finger to save a fellow creature from going over the brink
of ruin. They will turn their noses in the air when a word from them
would do some good, and then they will spend their time fussing and
weeping over somebody that nothing on earth can help."

"Now, Howard," I said, "that's your cynicism which I've so often
deplored. Come down to plain language, and tell me what you mean?"

"Look at the women on board this steamer," he cried indignantly.
"There's pretty little Mrs. Tremain, who seems to have become fascinated
by that scoundrel Glendenning. Any person can see what kind of a man he
is--any one but an innocent child, such as Mrs. Tremain is. Now, no man
can help. What she needs is some good kindly woman to take her by the
hand and give her a word of warning. Is there a woman on board of this
steamer who will do it? Not one. They see as plainly as any one else how
things are drifting; but it takes a man who has murdered his wife to get
sympathy and flowers from the modern so-called lady."

"Didn't you ever hear of the man, Howard, who made a large sum of money,
I forget at the moment exactly how much, by minding his own business?"

"Oh yes, it's all very well to talk like that; but I would like to pitch
Glendenning overboard."

"I admit that it would be a desirable thing to do, but if anybody is
to do it, it is Captain Tremain and not you. Are you a married man,
Howard?"

"No," answered Howard, evidently very much flattered by the question.

"Well, you see, a person never can tell on board ship; but, if you
happen to be, it seems to me that you wouldn't care for any outsider
to interfere in a matter such as we are discussing. At any rate Mrs.
Tremain is a married woman, and I can't see what interest you should
have in her. Take my advice and leave her alone, and if you want to
start a reforming crusade among women, try to convert the rest of the
ladies of the ship to be more charitable and speak the proper word in
time."

"You may sneer as much as you like," answered young Howard, "but I will
tell you what I am going to do. 'Two is company, and three is none';
I'm going to make the third, as far as Mrs. Tremain and Glendenning are
concerned."

"Supposing she objects to that?"

"Very likely she will; I don't care. The voyage lasts only a few days
longer, and I am going to make the third party at any _tete-a-tete_."

"Dangerous business, Howard; first thing, you know, Glendenning will he
wanting to throw _you_ overboard."

"I would like to see him try it," said the young fellow, clenching his
fist.

And young Howard was as good as his word. It was very interesting to
an onlooker to see the way the different parties took it. Mrs. Tremain
seemed to be partly amused with the boy, and think it all rather good
fun. Glendenning scowled somewhat, and tried to be silent; but, finding
that made no particular difference, began to make allusions to the
extreme youth of young Howard, and seemed to try to provoke him, which
laudable intention, to young Howard's great credit, did not succeed.

One evening I came down the forward narrow staircase, that leads to the
long corridor running from the saloon, and met, under the electric light
at the foot, Mrs. Tremain, young Howard, and Glendenning. They were
evidently about to ascend the stairway; but, seeing me come down, they
paused, and I stopped for a moment to have a chat with them, and see how
things were going on.

Glendenning said, addressing me, "Don't you think it's time for children
to be in bed?"

"If you mean me," I answered, "I am just on my way there."

Mrs. Tremain and young Howard laughed, and Glendenning after that
ignored both Howard and myself.

He said to Mrs. Tremain, "I never noticed you wearing that ring before.
It is a very strange ornament."

"Yes," answered Mrs. Tremain, turning it round and round. "This is a
Mexican charmed ring. There is a secret about it, see if you can find
it out." And with that she pulled off the ring, and handed it to
Glendenning.

"You ought to give it to him as a keepsake," said young Howard,
aggressively. "The ring, I notice, is a couple of snakes twisted
together."

"Little boys," said Mrs. Tremain, laughing, "shouldn't make remarks like
that. They lead to trouble."

Young Howard flushed angrily as Mrs. Tremain said this. He did not seem
to mind it when Glendenning accused him of his youth, but he didn't like
it coming from her.

Meanwhile Glendenning was examining the ring, and suddenly it came apart
in his hand. The coils of the snake were still linked together, but
instead of composing one solid ring they could now be spread several
inches apart like the links of a golden chain. Mrs. Tremain turned pale,
and gave a little shriek, as she saw this.

"Put it together again," she cried; "put it together quickly."

"What is the matter?" said Glendenning, looking up at her. She was
standing two or three steps above him; Glendenning was at the bottom of
the stair; young Howard stood on the same step as Mrs. Tremain, and I
was a step or two above them.

"Put it together," cried Mrs. Tremain again. "I am trying to," said
Glendenning, "is there a spring somewhere?"

"Oh, I cannot tell you," she answered, nervously clasping and unclasping
her hands; "but if you do not put it together without help, that means
very great ill-luck for both you and me."

"Does it?" said Glendenning, looking up at her with a peculiar glance,
quite ignoring our presence.

"Yes, it does," she said; "try your best to put that ring together
as you found it." It was quite evident that Mrs. Tremain had all the
superstition of Mexico.

Glendenning fumbled with the ring one way and another, and finally said,
"I cannot put it together."

"Let me try," said young Howard.

"No, no, that will do no good." Saying which Mrs. Tremain snatched the
links from Glendenning, slipped them into one ring again, put it on her
finger, and dashed quickly up the stairs without saying a word of good
night to any of us.

Glendenning was about to proceed up the stair after her, when young
Howard very ostentatiously placed himself directly in his path.
Glendenning seemed to hesitate for a moment, then thought better of it,
turned on his heel and walked down the passage towards the saloon.

"Look here, Howard," I said, "you are going to get yourself into
trouble. There's sure to be a fuss on board this steamer before we reach
Liverpool."

"I wouldn't be at all surprised," answered young Howard.

"Well, do you think it will be quite fair to Mrs. Tremain?"

"Oh, I shan't bring her name into the matter."

"The trouble will be to keep her name out. It may not be in your power
to do that. A person who interferes in other people's affairs must do so
with tact and caution."

Young Howard looked up at me with a trace of resentment in his face.
"Aren't you interfering now?" he said.

"You are quite right, I am. Good night." And I went up the stairway.
Howard shouted after me, but I did not see him again that night.

Next day we were nearing Queenstown, and, as I had letters to write, I
saw nothing of young Howard till the evening. I found him unreasonably
contrite for what he had said to me the night before; and when I told
him he had merely spoken the truth, and was quite justified in doing so,
he seemed more miserable than ever.

"Come," he said, "let us have a walk on the deck."

It was between nine and ten o'clock; and when we got out on the deck, I
said to him, "Without wishing to interfere any further----"

"Now, don't say that," he cried; "it is cruel."

"Well, I merely wanted to know where your two charges are."

"I don't know," he answered, in a husky whisper; "they are not in the
usual corner to-night, and I don't know where they are."

"She is probably with her husband," I suggested.

"No, he is down in the saloon reading."

As young Howard was somewhat prone to get emphatic when he began to talk
upon this subject, and as there was always a danger of other people
overhearing what he said, I drew him away to a more secluded part of the
ship. On this particular boat there was a wheelhouse aft unused, and
generally filled up with old steamer chairs. A narrow passage led around
this at the curving stern, seldom used by promenaders because of certain
obstructions which, in the dark, were apt to trip a person up. Chains or
something went from this wheelhouse to the sides of the ship, and, being
covered up by boxes of plank, made this part of the deck hard to travel
on in the dark. As we went around this narrow passage young Howard was
the first to stop. He clutched my arm, but said nothing. There in the
dark was the faint outline of two persons, with their backs towards us,
leaning over the stern of the ship. The vibration at this part of the
boat, from the throbbing of the screw, made it impossible for them to
hear our approach. They doubtless thought they were completely in the
dark; but they were deluded in that idea, because the turmoil of the
water left a brilliant phosphorescent belt far in the rear of the ship,
and against this bright, faintly yellow luminous track their forms were
distinctly outlined. It needed no second glance to see that the two were
Glendenning and Mrs. Tremain. Her head rested on his shoulder, and his
arm was around her waist.

"Let us get back," I said in a whisper; and, somewhat to my surprise,
young Howard turned back with me. I felt his hand trembling on my arm,
but he said nothing. Before we could say a word to each other a sadden
and unexpected complication arose. We met Captain Tremain, with a shawl
on his arm, coming towards us.

"Good evening, captain," I said; "have a turn on the deck with us?"

"No, thanks," he replied, "I am looking for my wife. I want to give her
this shawl to put over her shoulders. She is not accustomed to such
chilly weather as we are now running into, and I am afraid she may take
cold."

All this time young Howard stood looking at him with a startled
expression in his eyes, and his lower jaw dropped. I was afraid Captain
Tremain would see him, and wonder what was the matter with the boy. I
tried to bring him to himself by stamping my heel--not too gently--on
his toes, but he turned his face in the semi-darkness toward me without
changing its expression. The one idea that had taken possession of my
mind was that Captain Tremain must not he allowed to go further aft than
he was, and I tried by looks and nudges to tell young Howard to go back
and give her warning, but the boy seemed to be completely dazed with
the unexpected horror of the situation. To have this calm, stern,
unsuspecting man come suddenly upon what we had seen at the stern of the
boat was simply appalling to think of. He certainly would have killed
Glendenning where he stood, and very likely Mrs. Tremain as well. As
Captain Tremain essayed to pass us I collected my wits as well as I
could, and said--

"Oh, by the way, captain, I wanted to speak to you about Mexico. Do
you--do you--think that it is a good--er--place for investment?"

"Well," said Captain Tremain, pausing, "I am not so sure about that. You
see, their Government is so very unstable. The country itself is rich
enough in mineral wealth, if that is what you mean." All the while
Howard stood there with his mouth agape, and I felt like shoving my fist
into it.

"Here, Howard," I said, "I want to speak to Captain Tremain for a
moment. Take this shawl and find Mrs. Tremain, and give it to her."
Saying this, I took the shawl from the captain's arm and threw it at
young Howard. He appeared then to realise, for the first time, what was
expected of him, and, giving me a grateful look, disappeared toward the
stern.

"What I wanted more particularly to know about Mexico," I said to the
captain, who made no objection to this move, "was whether there would be
any more--well, likely to have trouble--whether we would have trouble
with them in a military way, you know--that's more in your line."

"Oh, I think not," said the captain. "Of course, on the boundary where
we were, there was always more or less trouble with border ruffians,
sometimes on one side of the line and sometimes on the other. There is a
possibility always that complications may arise from that sort of thing.
Our officers might go over into the Mexican territory and seize a
desperado there, or they might come over into ours. Still, I don't think
anything will happen to bring on a war such as we had once or twice with
Mexico."

At this moment I was appalled to hear Glendenning's voice ring out
above the noise of the vibration of the vessel.

"What do you mean by that, you scoundrel," he said.

"Hallo," exclaimed the captain, "there seems to be a row back there. I
wonder what it is?"

"Oh, nothing serious, I imagine. Probably some steerage passengers have
come on the cabin deck. I heard them having a row with some one to-day
on that score. Let's walk away from it."

The captain took my arm, and we strolled along the deck while he gave
me a great deal of valuable information about Mexico and the state of
things along the border line, which I regret to say I cannot remember a
word of. The impressions of a man who has been on the spot are always
worth hearing, but my ears were strained to catch a repetition of the
angry cry I had heard, or the continuation of the quarrel which it
certainly seemed to be the beginning of. As we came up the deck again
we met young Howard with the shawl still on his arm and Mrs. Tremain
walking beside him. She was laughing in a somewhat hysterical manner,
and his face was as pale as ashes with a drawn look about the corners of
his lips, but the captain's eyes were only on his wife.

"Why don't you put on the shawl, my dear?" he said to her
affectionately. "The shawl?" she answered. Then, seeing it on young
Howard's arm, she laughed, and said, "He never offered it to me."

Young Howard made haste to place the shawl on her shoulders, which she
arranged around herself in a very coquettish and charming way. Then she
took her husband's arm.

"Good night," she said to me; "good night, and thanks, Mr. Howard."

"Good night," said the captain; "I will tell you more about that mine
to-morrow."

We watched them disappear towards the companion-way. I drew young Howard
towards the side of the boat.

"What happened?" I asked eagerly. "Did you have trouble?"

"Very nearly, I made a slip of the tongue. I called her Mrs.
Glendenning."

"you called her _what_?"

"I said, 'Mrs. Glendenning, your husband is looking for you.' I had come
right up behind them, and they hadn't heard me, and of course both were
very much startled. Glendenning turned round and shouted, 'What do you
mean by that, you scoundrel?' and caught me by the throat. She instantly
sprang between us, pushing him toward the stern of the boat, and me
against the wheelhouse. "'Hush, hush,' she whispered; 'you mean, Mr.
Howard, that my husband is there, do you not?'

"'Yes,' I answered, 'and he will be here in a moment unless you come
with me.' With that she said 'Good night, Mr. Glendenning,' and took
my arm, and he, like a thief, slunk away round the other side of the
wheelhouse. I was very much agitated. I suppose I acted like a fool when
we met the captain, didn't I?"

"You did," I answered; "go on."

"Well, Mrs. Tremain saw that, and she laughed at me, although I could
see she was rather disturbed herself."

Some time that night we touched at Queenstown, and next evening we were
in Liverpool. When the inevitable explosion came, I have no means
of knowing, and this, as I have said before, is a story without a
conclusion.

Mrs. Tremain the next day was as bright and jolly as ever, and the last
time I saw her, she was smiling over her shoulder at Glendenning, and
not paying the slightest attention to either her husband on whose arm
she hung, or to young Howard, who was hovering near.

SHARE AND SHARE ALIKE.

"The quick must haste to vengeance taste,
For time is on his head;
But he can wait at the door of fate,
Though the stay be long and the hour be late--
The dead."

Melville Hardlock stood in the centre of the room with his feet wide
apart and his hands in his trousers pockets, a characteristic attitude
of his. He gave a quick glance at the door, and saw with relief that
the key was in the lock, and that the bolt prevented anybody coming in
unexpectedly. Then he gazed once more at the body of his friend, which
lay in such a helpless-looking attitude upon the floor. He looked at the
body with a feeling of mild curiosity, and wondered what there was about
the lines of the figure on the floor that so certainly betokened death
rather than sleep, even though the face was turned away from him. He
thought, perhaps, it might be the hand with its back to the floor and
its palm towards the ceiling; there was a certain look of hopelessness
about that. He resolved to investigate the subject some time when he had
leisure. Then his thoughts turned towards the subject of murder. It was
so easy to kill, he felt no pride in having been able to accomplish that
much. But it was not everybody who could escape the consequences of his
crime. It required an acute brain to plan after events so that shrewd
detectives would be baffled. There was a complacent conceit about
Melville Hardlock, which was as much a part of him as his intense
selfishness, and this conceit led him to believe that the future path he
had outlined for himself would not be followed by justice.

With a sigh Melville suddenly seemed to realise that while there was no
necessity for undue haste, yet it was not wise to be too leisurely in
some things, so he took his hands from his pockets and drew to the
middle of the floor a large Saratoga trunk. He threw the heavy lid open,
and in doing so showed that the trunk was empty. Picking up the body of
his friend, which he was surprised to note was so heavy and troublesome
to handle, he with some difficulty doubled it up so that it slipped into
the trunk. He piled on top of it some old coats, vests, newspapers, and
other miscellaneous articles until the space above the body was filled.
Then he pressed down the lid and locked it, fastening the catches at
each end. Two stout straps were now placed around the trunk and firmly
buckled after he had drawn them as tight as possible. Finally he damped
the gum side of a paper label, and when he had pasted it on the end of
the trunk, it showed the words in red letters, "S.S. _Platonic_, cabin,
wanted." This done, Melville threw open the window to allow the fumes
of chloroform to dissipate themselves in the outside air. He placed a
closed, packed and labelled portmanteau beside the trunk, and a valise
beside that again, which, with a couple of handbags, made up his
luggage. Then he unlocked the door, threw back the bolt, and, having
turned the key again from the outside, strode down the thickly-carpeted
stairs of the hotel into the large pillared and marble-floored vestibule
where the clerk's office was. Strolling up to the counter behind
which stood the clerk of the hotel, he shoved his key across to that
functionary, who placed it in the pigeon-hole marked by the number of
his room.

"Did my friend leave for the West last night, do you know?"

"Yes," answered the clerk, "he paid his bill and left. Haven't you seen
him since?"

"No," replied Hardlock.

"Well, he'll be disappointed about that, because he told me he expected
to see you before he left, and would call up at your room later. I
suppose he didn't have time. By the way, he said you were going back to
England to-morrow. Is that so?"

"Yes, I sail on the _Platonic_. I suppose I can have my luggage sent to
the steamer from here without further trouble?"

"Oh, certainly," answered the clerk; "how many pieces are there? It will
be fifty cents each."

"Very well; just put that down in my bill with the rest of the expenses,
and let me have it to-night. I will settle when I come in. Five pieces
of luggage altogether."

"Very good. You'll have breakfast to-morrow, I suppose?"

"Yes, the boat does not leave till nine o'clock."

"Very well; better call you about seven, Mr. Hardlock. Will you have a
carriage?"

"No, I shall walk down to the boat. You will be sure, of course, to have
my things there in time."

"Oh, no fear of that. They will be on the steamer by half-past eight."

"Thank you."

As Mr. Hardlock walked down to the boat next morning he thought he had
done rather a clever thing in sending his trunk in the ordinary way to
the steamer. "Most people," he said to himself, "would have made the
mistake of being too careful about it. It goes along in the ordinary
course of business. If anything should go wrong it will seem incredible
that a sane man would send such a package in an ordinary express waggon
to be dumped about, as they do dump luggage about in New York."

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