Free The Guinea Stamp by Alice Chetwynd Ley Page A

Thought he could blow up half the French flotilla, seemingly; but his wretched ‘infernals’, as the Navy calls ‘em, just refused to go off.”
    “I have heard nothing of this,” said Sir George, with interest.
    “No, well, dare say it wasn’t noised abroad. This fellow Fulton sometimes works for the French, as well—he was granted a French passport three years ago to enable him to make experiments along the coast over there. Being a neutral, money’s the only thing that interests him—typical of these Yankees, I must say.”
    “What exactly are these infernals, as you call them?” asked Lady Feniton, interestedly.
    Joanna stirred uneasily in her seat. Her interest in the conversation was as great as her grandmother’s but she could not forget the man she had left in hiding. Her eyes wandered to Kitty and Guy. They, too, were listening intently, without making any comment. She found this odd in Mr. Dorlais, who would generally take an active part in any conversation of note. English by adoption though he was, she reflected, perhaps at times he might find a certain confusion of loyalties when the war with France was under discussion. She wondered anxiously what possible excuse she could contrive for quitting the room: she must go soon. It was too dangerous to leave the man Jackson concealed there for much longer. Someone might go in, and surprise him. Yet she did not wish to miss any of this most interesting conversation.
    Colonel Kellaway was answering her grandmother’s question.
    “I can best describe them as a sort of log of mahogany, ma’am, with wedge shaped ends. They contain enough ballast to keep their upper decks afloat, and are filled with gunpowder. A clockwork device is fitted to the gunpowder, and when a peg is removed on the outside of the machine, the whole thing explodes, five to ten minutes later.”
    “Merciful Heavens!” exclaimed Lady Lodge, with a little gasp, “They must be almost as dangerous to those who use them as to the enemy, I imagine!”
    “Something in that, ma’am,” acknowledged the Colonel. “I recollect that my friend did say they weren’t sorry to return the unused machines to Naval stores when the exercise was over. A broadside from the French while those things were aboard—”
    He nodded significantly, leaving the sentence unfinished.
    Lady Lodge turned pale; she was easily alarmed. Her husband looked at her, smiled reassuringly, and said. “Would you not like a little music, gentlemen? You must find it tedious to be talking of such matters after a day spent in military exercises.”
    Colonel Kellaway voted himself very willing for the change; and as Captain Masterman’s chief concern seemed to be to fall in with his superior officer’s wishes, no objection was raised by him.
    Miss Feniton was invited first to the pianoforte, as was only civil, considering that she was a guest in the house; but she declined in favour of Kitty.
    “I will take my turn later,” she said. “I have left my scarf downstairs, and feel the need of it.”
    Before her grandmother could intervene, she rose, and quickly left the room.
    She almost ran down the staircase towards the parlour. Captain Jackson’s story should soon be in her possession now, or she would know the reason why! He had seemed to be on the point of confiding in her at last when they had been so unfortunately interrupted—though of course, she told herself, it was only too probable that what he had to confide would turn out to be the most complete fabrication, after all. But her curiosity was now thoroughly aroused, and she must hear what he had to say: judgment could come afterwards.
    She reached the parlour, breathing quickly, and entered, closing the door firmly behind her.
    “You may come out now,” she said, softly.
    There was no answer: the curtains hung limp and lifeless.
    With a startled exclamation, she darted across the room, and swept them aside.
    No one was there. The man had vanished.
    She pushed