Captain Grigsby had sold the old _Blue Heather_ and bought a new steam
yacht of seven hundred tons--large enough to take him round the world, he
said--and he had had her put in commission for the Mediterranean, and she
was waiting for him now at Marseilles. Would Paul join him for a trip? he
asked, and Paul hesitated for a moment.
If no news came by Friday--this was a Monday--then he should go to London
and deliberately find out his lady's name and kingdom. In that case to
cruise in those waters might suit his book passing well.
So he asked for a few days' grace, and Captain Grigsby gave a friendly
growl in reply, and thus it was settled. By Saturday he was to give his
answer.
Tuesday passed, and Wednesday, and on Thursday a telegram came for Paul
which drove him mad with joy. It was short and to the point: "Meet Dmitry
in Paris," Then followed an address. By rushing things he could just catch
the night boat.
He went to his father's room, where Sir Charles was discussing affairs with
his land steward. The man retired.
"Father," said Paul, "I am going immediately to Paris. I have not even time
to wait and see my mother--she is out driving, I hear. Will you understand,
father, and make it all right with her?"
And Sir Charles said, as he wrung his son's hand:
"Take care of yourself, Paul--I understand, my boy--and remember, Grig and
I are with you to the bone.
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