CHAPTER XXX

ARIADNE

A few days later an automobile--not Audrey's but a large limousine--bumped,
with slow and soft dignity, across the railway lines which diversify the
quays of Boulogne harbour and, having hooted in a peculiar manner, came to
a stop opposite nothing in particular.

"Here we are," said Mr. Gilman, reaching to open the door. "You can see her
masthead light."

It was getting dark. Behind, over the station, a very faint flush lightened
the west, and in front, across the water, and reflected in the water, the
thousand lamps of the town rose in tiers to the lofty church which stood
out a dark mass against the summer sky. On the quays the forms of men moved
vaguely among crates and packages, and on the water, tugs and boats flitted
about, puffing, or with the plash of oars, or with no sound whatever. And
from the distance arrived the reverberation of electric trams running their
courses in the maze of the town.

Madame Piriac and Audrey descended, after Mr. Gilman, from the car and Mr.
Gilman turned off the electric light in the interior and shut the door.

"Do not trouble about the luggage, I beg you," said Mr. Gilman, breathing,
as usual, rather noticeably. "_Bon soir_, Leroux. Don't forget to meet the
nine-thirty-five." This last to the white-clad chauffeur, who saluted
sharply.

At the same moment two sailors appeared over the edge of the quay, and a
Maltese cross of light burst into radiance at the end of a sloping gangway,
whose summit was just perched on the solid masonry of the port. The sailors
were clothed in blue, with white caps, and on their breasts they bore the
white-embroidered sign: "_Ariadne, R.T.Y.C._"

"Look lively, lads, with the luggage," said Mr. Gilman.

"Yes, sir."

Then another figure appeared under the Maltese cross. It was clad in white
ducks, with a blue reefer ornamented in gold, and a yachting cap crowned in
white: a stoutish and middle-aged figure, much like Mr. Gilman himself in
bearing and costume, except that Mr. Gilman had no gold on his jacket.

"Well, skipper!" greeted Mr. Gilman, jauntily and spryly. In one moment, in
one second, Mr. Gilman had grown at least twenty years younger.

"Captain Wyatt," he presented the skipper to the ladies. "And this is Mr.
Price, my secretary, and Doctor Cromarty," as two youths, clothed exactly
to match Mr. Gilman, followed the skipper up the steep incline of the
gangway.

And now Audrey could see the _Ariadne_