Her voice broke the spell which the telegram, with its curious
phrasing, had cast on him.
"No, Miss Fenshawe, not bad news, certainly. Indeed, it was the absence
of any sort of news that troubled me for a moment. _Chasseur_!"
"_Oui, m'sieu_'," and the messenger raised his hat.
"_Voila_!" Dick threw him a franc. "_Il n'a pas de reponse_."
"_Merci bien, m'sieu'_."
That spinning of a coin through the air showed that Royson had made up
his mind. He had tossed with Fortune, and cared not who won.
The messenger drew away from the gangway, and entered into a
conversation with the driver of the omnibus. Stump nodded to a man on
the quay. The forward mooring rope was cleared, and fell into the water
with a loud splash. Two sailors ran the gangway on board. An electric
bell jarred in the engine-room, and the screw revolved, while the
rattle of the steering chains showed that the helm was put hard a-port.
When the _Aphrodite_ moved slowly astern, her bow swung towards the
mouth of the dock. The indicator rang again, twice, and the yacht,
after a pause, began to forge ahead.
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