A Rock in the Baltic. Robert Barr

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       Robert Barr

      A Rock in the Baltic

      Published by Good Press, 2019

       [email protected]

      EAN 4064066233723

       CHAPTER I —THE INCIDENT AT THE BANK

       CHAPTER II —IN THE SEWING-ROOM

       CHAPTER III —ON DECK

       CHAPTER IV —“AT LAST ALONE”

       CHAPTER V —AFTER THE OPERA IS OVER

       CHAPTER VI —FROM SEA TO MOUNTAIN

       CHAPTER VII —“A WAY THEY HAVE IN THE NAVY”

       CHAPTER VIII —“WHEN JOHNNY COMES MARCHING HOME”

       CHAPTER IX —IN RUSSIA

       CHAPTER X —CALAMITY UNSEEN

       CHAPTER XI —THE SNOW

       CHAPTER XII —THE DREADED TROGZMONDOFF

       CHAPTER XIII —ENTRAPPED

       CHAPTER XIV —A VOYAGE INTO THE UNKNOWN

       CHAPTER XV —“A HOME ON THE ROLLING DEEP”

       CHAPTER XVI —CELL NUMBER NINE

       CHAPTER XVII —A FELLOW SCIENTIST

       CHAPTER XVIII —CELL NUMBER ONE

       CHAPTER XIX —“STONE WALLS DO NOT A PRISON MAKE”

       CHAPTER XX —ARRIVAL OF THE TURBINE YACHT

       CHAPTER XXI —THE ELOPEMENT

       Table of Contents

      IN the public room of the Sixth National Bank at Bar Harbor in Maine, Lieutenant Alan Drummond, H.M.S. “Consternation,” stood aside to give precedence to a lady. The Lieutenant had visited the bank for the purpose of changing several crisp white Bank of England notes into the currency of the country he was then visiting. The lady did not appear to notice either his courtesy or his presence, and this was the more remarkable since Drummond was a young man sufficiently conspicuous even in a crowd, and he and she were, at that moment, the only customers in the bank. He was tall, well-knit and stalwart, blond as a Scandinavian, with dark blue eyes which he sometimes said jocularly were the colors of his university. He had been slowly approaching the cashier’s window with the easy movement of a man never in a hurry, when the girl appeared at the door, and advanced rapidly to the bank counter with its brass wire screen surrounding the arched aperture behind which stood the cashier. Although very plainly attired, her gown nevertheless possessed a charm of simplicity that almost suggested complex Paris, and she wore it with that air of distinction the secret of which is supposed to be the exclusive property of French and American women.

      The young man saw nothing of this, and although he appreciated the beauty of the girl, what struck him at that instant was the expression of anxiety on her face, whose apparently temporary pallor was accentuated by an abundance of dark hair. It seemed to him that she had resolutely set herself a task which she was most reluctant to perform. From the moment she entered the door her large, dark eyes were fixed almost appealingly on the cashier, and they beheld nothing else. Drummond, mentally slow as he usually was, came to the quick conclusion that this was a supreme moment in her life, on which perhaps great issues depended. He saw her left hand grasp the corner of the ledge in front of the cashier with a grip of nervous tension, as if the support thus attained was necessary to her. Her right hand trembled slightly as she passed an oblong slip of paper through the aperture to the calm and indifferent official.

      “Will you give me the money for this check?” she asked in a low voice.

      The cashier scrutinized the document for some time in silence. The signature appeared unfamiliar to him.

      “One moment, madam,” he said quietly, and retired to a desk in the back part of the bank, where he opened a huge book, turned over some leaves rapidly, and ran his finger down a page. His dilatory action seemed to increase the young woman’s panic. Her pallor increased, and she swayed slightly, as if in danger of falling, but brought her right hand to the assistance of the left, and so steadied herself against the ledge of the cashier’s counter.

      “By Jove!” said the Lieutenant to himself, “there’s something wrong here. I wonder what it is. Such a pretty girl, too!”

      The cashier behind his screen saw nothing of this play of the emotions. He returned nonchalantly to his station, and asked, in commonplace tones:

      “How will you have the money, madam?”

      “Gold, if you please,” she replied almost in a whisper, a rosy flush chasing the whiteness from her face, while a deep sigh marked the passing of a crisis.

      At this juncture an extraordinary thing happened. The cashier counted out some golden coins, and passed them through the aperture toward their new owner.

      “Thank

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