Chapter 14 – Secrets
When he arrived at the guesthouse, Henry rushed up the stairs and knocked at the door to Oscarʼs room.
“Where is she, Henry?” the doctor wanted to know as soon as he had let Henry in.
Henry let himself fall on a chair, giving a bitter laugh.
“Did you really believe I could simply walk out of the hotel with her?”
“What happened? Did she refuse to come with you? Again?!”
“These two ugly crows were keeping her under lock and key. And the receptionist is a cunning man. I had no chance to sneak her out of the building,” Henry explained. “I managed, however, to secretly talk to her in the ladiesʼ bathroom.”
“Did anyone see you?” Oscar wanted to know.
Henry shook his head.
“No, we were entirely unobserved although we didnʼt have much time. But as for her answer: Yes, she wants to come.”
“Brilliant!” Oscar cheered for joy. “What are you going to do now? Tell me!”
“Well, we needed to come to a quick decision,” Henry said with a sigh. “And so we arranged that a coach is going to bring me to the hotel tonight. Sarah will try and secretly leave her room while Damian is asleep. She wants to make the night porter let her go outside by telling him some tale about an earring which she lost and which she needed to go in search of. She will claim that it was a wedding gift from Damian and that the latter would be mad at her if he found out that she lost it. In the meantime, I will make the coach driver pull up in front of the hotel, and if all goes well, Sarah will jump inside, and then we will drive straight to the docks.”
A troubled expression spread across Oscarʼs face.
“Good heavens, Henry, this plan is destined to fail...” he mumbled.
“Honestly, Oscar, I am worried less about the escape tonight than about getting Sarah on board of the ship,” Henry remarked flatly. “After all, I do not have a ticket for her, and I doubt that I will still get one judging the crowd which queued in front of the ticket office last week. But I already have an idea how to solve this problem.”
“Another idea?” Oscar cast Henry a doubtful glance.
“I will give Sarah my ticket and I can ask the crew on board to let me do some work; peeling potatoes, cleaning the latrines, whatever,” Henry explained. “I will do anything to pay for the fare, and I can sleep on the floor if there is no bed left for me.”
“What kind of ticket have you got?”
“One for 3rd Class.”
“You can not be serious, Henry...” Oscar said, incredulously.
“Well, I am afraid, that was all I got for the little money I had left,” Henry answered. “Do you actually know how expensive these tickets are?”
“Henry, forget about that 3rd Class ticket. It is of no use to you and of no use to Sarah either. She might as well sign her own death warrant.”
Henry looked at Oscar uncomprehendingly.
“You have never really informed yourself about what it is like being on a steamship, have you?” Oscar asked.
Henry shook his head.
“Well, let me give you a little lecture then,” Oscar continued. “The compartments of 3rd Class are normally located down at the very bottom of the ship right next to the engines and the steering controls; therefore 3rd Class is also called ʻSteerage Class.ʼ But rest assured that the noise down there is the very last thing the passengers normally worry about... First of all, there are no windows and there is hardly any room for everyone, as you can imagine, because all people are packed together in compartments like chickens in a coop—sometimes five hundred of them, sometimes seven hundred, or more. At night it is so cold that you want to sleep with your clothes on. And the food that you have to queue for is so little that is very difficult to keep up your strength. Nobody of the crew will bother to look after you. Nobody will clean up after you if you get seasick and vomit on the floor. Apart from that, the air is stifling. There will probably be a couple of ventilators, but by far not enough to suffice the need for fresh air of hundreds of people. Also, the washing facilities leave a lot to be desired, and you risk catching all sorts of diseases of whose existence you have never even been aware of. And that is the place where you expect Sarah to spend the time of the crossing? Weak and pregnant as she is? Just think about the baby!”
Oscar immediately bit his lip.
“Donʼt worry,” Henry said with a dismissive gesture of his hand. “I know all about it...”
The doctor cast Henry a shamefaced look.
“Henry, I am sorry that I did not tell you. But please try to understand the difficult situation that I found myself in…” he said, a beseeching tone to his voice. “I had to promise Sarah to keep quiet about it. She was terribly worried that you would come and do something foolish and that you would endanger everybodyʼs life, including your own. Please do not hold a grudge against me.”
Henry comradely patted Oscarʼs shoulder.
“I donʼt,” he answered. “In fact, you two were quite right with your assumption that I would only have made things worse… So, forget about it, my friend, and rather tell me why you know so much about steamships.”
“Well,” Oscar began, “not all people who want to immigrate to America are allowed to enter the state when they arrive. Many do not fulfill certain criteria; they might suffer from diseases for instance, or they might be blind, or crippled, or penniless. Then the officials are worried that these people could become a financial burden to the state, and so they are sent back to where they come from straight away. The reason I know all of this is that I saw many of those who returned to England when I still worked as a practitioner in London. They told me their stories while I was trying to patch them up again. Trust me, Henry, I have heard enough gruesome things to write a book about it. And these people had not even travelled on run-down cutters but on the big vessels, the modern steam-driven ones. But the situation is the same on all ships although the conditions have improved, of course, compared to the times when steamers didnʼt exist.”
Uncomfortable silence filled the little room.
“So I donʼt even have a ticket at hand right now because mine is practically useless,” Henry concluded with a sigh of resignation.
“I will help you,” Oscar said softly. “I actually think I should be able to get tickets for you and for Sarah, so that you both will have a proper cabin and will not be separated. If you make Sarah stay in these compartments at the bottom of the ship, you will not even be able to come near her. And she will need you, Henry. Do not leave her alone. She will surely be terribly scared! After all, a trip like this is not a Sunday cruise on the Thames.”
“But Oscar, I donʼt have any money left to buy another ticket, let alone two!”
“Do not worry about it. I will pay for them.”
“It doesnʼt feel right, you paying for it all, I mean,” Henry mumbled, bashfully.
“Donʼt be foolish, Henry,” Oscar said. “We are all part of a very rigid class system which consists of people who are either very rich, somewhat well off, or very poor. It is nothing but an unfortunate circumstance that you are not able to count yourself to the first group which means that you might not have the same opportunities as everybody else—although you have already proven that you are more than capable of working your way up. But it is quite fortunate indeed that you happen to have a well-off and influential friend; namely me. And if you are clever you, will make use of this advantage and take my offer.”
Oscar grinned at Henry.
Henry threw his hands in the air in a gesture of resignation.
“Alright, I will accept your offer—under the condition that you allow me to pay you the money back one day.”
“Well, if you are so desperate to give it back to me, I will not hinder you. But I do not expect you to give it back. After all, donʼt forget that by saving Sarah you are doing me a favor, too.”
“Thank you, Oscar, you are a real friend. But we must rush. The ticket office will surely be overcrowded again. Maybe the office isnʼt even open today!” Henry said, becoming rather nervous again.
“Henry, please, calm down. I will not go to the ticket office at all.”
Henry cast Oscar a puzzled look.
“You wonʼt? But how...?”
“Let this be my problem,” Oscar said, smiling secretively. “I will go right now, and in the meantime you better pack your bags and get ready for tonight. And stop worrying so much, alright?”
“I will try...” Henry mumbled in a daze, gradually feeling overwhelmed by the excitement, the surprises, and all the things he didnʼt understand.
Oscar winked at Henry encouragingly. Then he put on his coat, took his hat, and left.
* * *
Oscar quickly marched through the streets, a light drizzle raining down on him.
Despite his nervousness and despite his inner doubt that Henry and Sarahʼs plan would work out, he knew that he needed to pull himself together and fully concentrate on his task to get the tickets if he wanted to effectively contribute to all of this. Just like Henry, he needed to keep his calm, or else they would miserably fail.
And they couldnʼt afford that. Oscar was well aware that this was their very last opportunity to save Sarah. He knew that if his sister Priscilla or Damian found out about the plotting, there would be no chance that he or Henry would ever see Sarah again.
Oscar turned into a wide street, lined by a long row of magnificent, grand houses. The area where he encountered himself in was way off the city center and way off all the places where the impoverished people lived. Here there wasnʼt any litter in the street, there were no beggars sitting on the ground, and no street vendor was trying to fleece passers-by of their money.
The only thing which reigned here was grandeur. Here lived the wealthy—not just the rich, but the tremendously rich; those who had made a fortune by gradually and steadily working their way up to the top; but also those who had simply been lucky enough to have been born into a well-off family. Many of these people were barons, lords and earls, but also famous entrepreneurs, such as Sir Merryweather, founder and co-owner of the Merryweather & Montgomery Marine Steamship Line who had only recently been knighted ʼSirʼ by her Majesty the Queen for his merit in the shipping industry.
Oscar took a little address book out of his coat pocket and quickly flicked through the pages until he found an entry which he had made more than fifteen years ago. It read, ʻMerryweather, 21 Gainsborough Road.ʼ
He compared the number in the book with that of the building which he was now standing right in front of—the most precious house of all, a four-story 17th century villa with several oriels, elaborate stucco work on the façade, and a gilded door knocker in the form of a lionhead.
Oscar walked up the stairs which lead up to the entrance door and knocked.
After a while, which seemed to him like an eternity, the door opened an inch and a very ancient man, the butler, peered out to him, shooting Oscar a questioning look.
“Good afternoon,” Oscar said politely, “I am awfully sorry to disturb you, but I would like to inquire if I could possibly speak to Sir Merryweather.”
“Do you have an appointment?” the butler asked with a piping voice.
“I am afraid, I donʼt.”
“Well, it is quite inconvenient at the moment, actually, and Sir Merryweather does not normally receive anybody without an appointment.”
“I am well aware of that and terribly sorry about it, but it is quite urgent,” Oscar pressed, trying not to let his impatience show too much.
“Everybodyʼs request is urgent these days...”
“Sir, please, could you at least tell him that Dr. Oscar Scott is here. He might remember me and make an exception.”
The old butler eyed Oscar up and down, not bothering to conceal his suspicion. Then, after some careful thinking, he slowly opened the door and let Oscar inside.
“Please wait here. I will go and inform Sir Merryweather,” the old butler said. Then he laboriously clambered up the stairs to the next floor. When he had finally arrived there, he disappeared in one of the corridors.
Somewhat lost, Oscar lingered in the middle of the entrance hall. He had been invited to Baron Copperwoodʼs mansion and to the mansion of Damianʼs father, but Sir Merryweatherʼs house exceeded all he had ever seen in terms of wealth and abundance. This place was full with gilded statues, decorative paintings, and exquisitely woven carpets which looked as if they had been taken straight from Ali Babaʼs treasure cave.
But right now, Oscar didnʼt have any interest in all the abundance. Instead, he caught himself permanently looking at his watch which clearly showed him that time was running through his hands.
After a while that seemed like an eternity to him, he was saw the old fossil in form of the butler slowly stagger back down the stairs.
“Sir Merryweather is expecting you. Would you follow me, please,” the butler said, suddenly not appearing as unwilling and brusque as before. Then he made an effort to climb upstairs again, but Oscar stopped him.
“No, please, Sir, it is fine, I am sure I will find the way myself...” he said politely and hastened past the butler, who appeared slightly puzzled but also relieved that he was spared having to walk all the way up to the first floor again.
The door to Sir Merryweatherʼs study was standing wide open. Oscar could hear voices, and when he approached the room, he saw two men sitting on comfortable leather chairs, chatting animatedly with each other.
One of the men was Sir Merryweather. Oscar recognized him immediately, that friendly, good-humored giant with the long beard and the boisterous laugh, although Oscar noticed that the entrepreneur had gained a considerable amount of weight since the last time they had met. Still, it was unmistakably him.
Hesitantly, Oscar knocked and waited respectfully until the two men took notice of him.
“Dr. Scott!” Sir Merryweather called out when he saw the doctor and got up from his chair. “What a surprise and what a tremendous pleasure to see you again! Good Lord, you have not changed a bit!”
Oscar bowed slightly.
“Thank you, Sir. Thanks for receiving me at such short notice.”
“Not at all, Doctor, not at all!”
Sir Merryweather turned to the other man whom he had been talking to just before Oscar had arrived, and who was just about to get up and leave.
“We will talk tomorrow, Hendrick. Until then, tell Lord Catterfield that I will contribute to that fundraising thing he has in mind.”
The man nodded and quietly disappeared out of the room, whereas Sir Merryweather led the doctor inside, his massive paw comradely resting on Oscarʼs shoulders.
“Dr. Scott, my dear, we have not seen each other for ages! Please, do take a seat,” Sir Merryweather said. He let himself fall down on his huge leather chair again and opened a little box with cigars which stood on his huge oakwood desk.
“May I offer you one?” he asked, his paw shoving the box across the desk and over to Oscar.
“Why not, yes, thank you very much,” Oscar answered, not averse to some nicotine in order to calm his nerves. He took a cigar out of the box and let Sir Merryweather light it. Soon, little curls of smoke began to fill the air.
Oscar let his eyes wander about the room. Wherever he looked, he could see models and pictures of sailing ships and steamboats as well as numerous decorative shipping utensils such as an old antiquated anchor and a massive gilded figurehead which stood in the corner and obviously served as a coat stand.
“Look, what I have got today, isnʼt it gorgeous?!”
Sir Merryweather reached down next to him and lifted up a huge oil painting which had leaned at the wall. It showed a huge steamer with two funnels, sailing at full speed, braving the elements.
“A marvelous piece of work indeed,” Oscar commented, taking a puff at his cigar.
“That is the SS Thalassa, my biggest pride...” Sir Merryweather said, an awestricken expression on his face. “Almost eight thousand gross tons and more than five hundred feet long. What do you reckon, would that not look nice over there above the fireplace next to the stuffed sawfish?”
“It surely would,” Oscar said. Not wanting to ruin Sir Merryweatherʼs enthusiasm, he refrained from mentioning that hanging the picture there would cause the impression that the teeth of the fishʼs massive sawlike snout was about to rip the canvas to shreds.
“Is it not amazing how ships are getting more and more elaborate these days?” Sir Merryweather put the picture back down on the ground. “Steel is on the rise and beginning to replace most of the ironwork. And as for speed, just think about it: It takes steamers only about ten days to cross the Atlantic compared to sailing ships which needed almost two months. And so many improvements have been made in terms of safety. I presume that one day human kind will build a ship which is simply unsinkable!”
Oscar smiled at Sir Merryweather politely.
“It is amazing, alright,” Oscar remarked, before he went on to ask, “How is your son?”
Sir Merryweather beamed happily at him.
“Our little John has never been better, Dr. Scott,” he answered, a sentimental tone to his voice. Then he began to laugh. “Hah, little John... what am I talking about? Little John is in fact twenty years old now and an adult. But children always stay children in their parentsʼ eyes, even if they are grown-ups, donʼt they?”
“I am very glad to hear that your son enjoys good health,” Oscar replied.
Sir Merryweather leaned forward and stared at Oscar intently. Oscar noticed that Sir Merryweatherʼs eyes got a little moist.
“I must say, Dr. Scott, what you did to us back then can not be bought for all the money in the world...”
“He was in a very poor state indeed,” Oscar added pensively.
“Poor state is not an adequate term to use. He was in fact about to die. I do not know how you did it, but you saved this young boyʼs life,” Sir Merryweather said.
Oscarʼs mind wandered back to the time when he had still been a practitioner in London. He had not been a doctor for a very long time and had already seen himself confronted with one of the worst cases of lung disease he should ever encounter in his career. He remembered the day when he had been visited by a courier who had urged him to do a home visit for someone whose name he wouldnʼt say. Oscar remembered having been quite suspicious, but he still had followed the courier who had led him to this huge splendid house in Gainsborough Road and had made him wait in the exact study where he was sitting now, smoking a cigar. Only then had he noticed that his new client was indeed Lord Merryweather, the Merryweather, owner of one of the most flourishing shipping corporations in England and, although not yet a ʻSirʼ back then, already a multiple millionaire.
But all of Merryweatherʼs wealth had not been of any use to him when his dear son John had fallen ill with pneumonia. Oscarʼs first impression had been that the five-year-old boy would not make it through the night, but he had so desperately wanted to help that tiny, weak creature that was stirring feverishly in his bed. And so he had tried everything to save him and had stuffed all that he could find in his medicine cabinets into the poor boyʼs stomach, hoping that something would help although deep inside he was certain that it was too late. He had also come to see the boy every day, checking upon him and encouraging him and his family to hold on and not to give up. He had even prayed for him although he had not considered himself as a truly pious man.
Oscar never found any explanation for the fact that the boyʼs health had improved so suddenly within the nights which were to follow. But after a week of treatment, little John had stopped coughing blood and had begun to eat and laugh again.
“You know, it was not only your work as a doctor,” Sir Merryweather said. “It was the way you dealt with the situation in general and with our despair. You comforted my wife, me, and the young boy. You gave him back his will to live with your unbeatable wit and optimism—and your belief. You should have become a priest, you know!”
Oscar laughed at Sir Merryweatherʼs remark.
“I honestly do not think that I would make a good man of God...” he said, blushing.
“Do not hide your light under a bushel, Dr. Scott. You are the hell of a good man!” Sir Merryweather said. “And now tell me, what can I do for you?”
Oscar moved anxiously on his chair. He was not sure if his request would be too blunt, but he knew he needed to try and ask Sir Merryweather for help, even if he risked coming across as a little rude and demanding.
“Sir Merryweather,” he began hesitantly, “as we are talking about your son... Do you remember back then when you told me that you felt you owed me a favor because of saving Johnʼs life, and that you would help me if I ever was in need?”
“I do indeed. I am a man of honor, and I keep my word,” Sir Merryweather answered firmly.
“Well, I have hoped that I would never encounter myself in a situation which would require pestering you with my requests as it was my pleasure to help you back then and I did not do it in order to get something for it in return.”
“Good Lord, Dr. Scott, what are you talking about?” Sir Merryweather said gravely. “I am more than aware that you are a noble and humble man.”
“Well, thanks for your kind words, Sir Merryweather, because I am in fact in need of your help now, I am afraid. And you are the only one who can help me.”
Sir Merryweather frowned, a worried expression on his face.
“Dr. Scott, you sound as if you were in a terrible turmoil.”
“I am, actually. God knows, I am…” Oscar answered.
“Tell me, what I can do for you and I promise I will do my best.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Oscar answered and tried to come to the point quickly. “Well, it is about the Princess of the Seas which is leaving for America tonight.”
“The Princess of the Seas—a wonderful ship!” Sir Merryweather exclaimed. “Not quite as big as the SS Thalassa, but still one of the best vessels I have in my stable, so to speak. Has crossed the waters of the Atlantic already a dozen times and has never hit an iceberg—knock on wood!”
Sir Merryweather knocked three times with the knuckles of his fingers against his head.
“My niece and a good friend of mine would like to go on board tonight,” Oscar continued. “But they do not have any tickets. Well, that is not true actually; my friend has a ticket, but only one, and that is for steerage class.”
Oscar pulled Henryʼs crumpled green slip out of his trouser pockets and laid it on the table in front of Sir Merryweather, whose incredulous eyes darted between the doctor and the ticket.
“You must be joking,” he said.
“That is what I told my friend as well, but he did not have enough money to buy a ticket for a better class, let alone two.”
“You want me to get you tickets for them, is that correct?” Sir Merryweather asked.
“Well, I will pay for them of course. Money is not the problem. It is rather that I dread it is too late and that there are no cabins available anymore. But it is quite essential that they leave tonight and not next week or the week after...”
“Forget about the money,” Sir Merryweather said determinedly. “As for the time frame, I must admit it is quite short notice. I am unsure if I will be able to get you two separate cabins.”
“Oh, that will not be a problem,” Oscar hastened to say. “They can share one as they are… well, they are… married. Almost, I mean…”
Oscar felt his face get hot and hoped that it was not all too evident that he had lied. But Sir Merryweather didnʼt appear as if he had noticed anything.
“Alright, I will see what I can do. Would 2nd Class suffice? It is not top of the range, but 2nd Class cabins are quite comfortable nowadays, especially on the Princess of the Seas. At least it is the ʻsurvival classʼ, as I tend to call it.”
“Oh, 2nd Class should be perfectly fine! Thank you very much, Sir Merryweather, thank you so much!”
“Well, save up your gratitude for later when you actually have the tickets. As for now, I can not guarantee you anything, but what I can guarantee you is that I will try my utmost to help you. I will send a note with a courier down to the docks straight away, checking with the booking department if there happens to be a cabin left.”
Oscarʼs heart was racing in his chest. He was overcome with such utter relief that he would have gladly flung his arms around Sir Merryweather and kissed him on both his cheeks.
Sir Merryweather took a pen and began to scribble a message on a piece of paper for the courier to
deliver. Oscar hoped that the courier wasnʼt the old, slow butler who had let him in.
“So, how many tickets are we talking about again?” Sir Merryweather asked as he was writing. “Two?”
Oscar hesitated for a moment.
Come on, you fool, donʼt be a coward! You were so sure about it only a couple of days ago...
“Well, three actually…” he finally answered.
“Three?” Sir Merryweather looked up from the paper. “Another friend of yours?”
Oscar hesitated again.
“No, it is… it is myself,” he said, close to falling off his chair with nervousness.
What a surprise this will be for the others...
“May I ask why there is such a rush?” Sir Merryweather wanted to know.
“Well,” Oscar cleared his throat, trying to come up with a plausible explanation. He wasnʼt all too keen on telling Sir Merryweather the truth. “My friendʼs cousin in America is quite ill. We do not know if he will be with us any longer.”
“Oh,” Sir Merryweather furrowed his brow and looked up. “And you are going because they think that you might save someoneʼs life again?”
“Oh, well, yes, I will try my best...” Oscar replied, smiling uncertainly.
Sir Merryweather put down his pen and folded the litte note he had written.
“Now let me give this to my courier. Come and see me again later, let us say in three hours. I will not be here personally then, but I will leave the tickets with my butler downstairs—provided my undertaking was successful. But I daresay we should not run into any major trouble. Not too many can afford the better cabins nowadays, so there is a good chance that there will still be some vacancies in 2nd Class.”
Sir Merryweather got up from his chair, as did Oscar.
“I am most grateful, Sir Merryweather,” Oscar said gravely and shook Sir Merryweatherʼs hand. “Let me tell you that you are indeed doing me a grand favor...”
Somehow it seemed to him that Sir Merryweather secretly sensed that all of this was not really about visiting a sick cousin.
“I am not sure if I want to know what you are really up to,” Sir Merryweather mumbled, casting Oscar a suspicious glance.
“Sir, may I ask you a question—a personal one?” Oscar asked.
“Go ahead, Doctor,” Sir Merryweather answered.
“Are you of the opinion that family traditions and family interests are of greater importance than following your own heartʼs desires?”
“Let me tell you something, Doctor,” Sir Merryweather said. “If I had always acted in my familyʼs interests, I would not be what I am now.”
“And from a hypothetical point of view,” Oscar added, “what would you do if you desperately wanted to help two people in love who do not have the power to stand up for their heartʼs desires and who see themselves in a situation where the odds are stacked against them?”
For a moment, Sir Merryweather pensively looked at Oscar. Then an amused smile spread across his lips.
“I would bring them on one of my ships and send them to America.”
The next moment, the two men broke out in laughter before Sir Merryweather became more serious again.
“But do me a favor, Dr. Scott: Do not get yourself into too much trouble...” he mumbled.
Oscar nodded and followed Sir Merryweather out of the room.
Too late, he thought, too late.
* * *
Henry had spent the best part of the afternoon with cleaning. Now he was standing in the middle of his room, which looked neat and tidy, and examined his work.
Dusk had already begun to fall, and Henry wondered where Oscar was as he had not seen the doctor for hours.
At ten past seven Oscar knocked at the door. When he entered the room, he appeared tired but happy.
“Oscar, where have you been?!” Henry called out, relieved to see his friend again.
Oscar fumbled in his trouser pockets and produced two tickets.
“I was not able to get tickets for 1st Class,” he explained, “but at least I got some for a 2nd Class cabin which should suffice.”
Henry incredulously stared at the tickets which Oscar handed him.
“God, Oscar, you are a genius…!”
“No, Henry, trust me, I was just damn lucky. There was really only one cabin available—and I got it for free.”
Oscar took off his coat, threw it over a chair, and sat down on the bed. Only then did he notice the cleanliness of the room.
“You have been quite busy while I was gone.”
“I needed to calm my nerves. It proved to be a good distraction,” Henry replied. He was still unable to believe that he was now the owner of two tickets for 2nd Class which would allow him to offer Sarah a somewhat comfortable journey. He guessed that under different circumstances these tickets would have cost him a fortune.
“So are you ready to leave then?” Oscar asked. “I mean, ready to leave it all behind?”
Henry hesitated for a moment before he answered.
“I suppose, yes...”
“You will be fine, Henry. Everything will be fine,” Oscar said soothingly, sensing Henryʼs uncertainty.
“I hope so...”
Henry stuck his hands in his trouser pockets and began to nervously pace up and down the room.
“You know, I have never had a lot of very good friends,” he said in a somber tone. “You have become a really dear friend to me, and I am actually not that good at saying goodbye.”
Henry noticed a strange little smile creeping over Oscarʼs lips, a smile that he was unable to read.
“Neither am I, Henry, but there is no need to say goodbye just now. After all, I will join you later when you pick up Sarah.”
“God, Oscar, no, I wonʼt let you come with me!” Henry exclaimed. “You have already done so much for me; I will not allow you to risk your neck for us. After all, it is better if Damian does not see you. He mustnʼt find out that you are involved in all of this. I mean, if I really fail tonight, you can still try and become reconciled with your sister, and then, maybe, she will reconsider her decision to not let you see Sarah again.”
“You are right, Henry, I see your point,” Oscar agreed. “Will you be alright, though, on your own?”
“I will,” Henry said gravely. Then he reached over to his coat, pulled a pistol out of its pocket and held it in the air for Oscar to see. The latter appeared both astonished and shocked.
“Good Lord, where the hell did you get that from?”
A sheepish smile on his lips, Henry quickly stuck the pistol back in the pocket.
“Got it from some creepy-looking street vendor this afternoon. In all honesty, I would have never believed that I would come this far...”
“Well, love makes us do a lot of things that we initially considered ourselves incapable of doing.”
Oscar let out a sigh and lazily stretched out on Henryʼs bed.
“Have you ever been in love, Oscar?” Henry asked. “I mean, really in love?”
Oscar pensively stared at the ceiling.
“No,” he whispered, “unfortunately not. But I would like to fall in love with someone, just as you did. I am in my mid-thirties now, you know. I can not spend all my life chasing after women who only want to play. But then again, I suppose, I am only a player myself.”
Oscar grinned at Henry before turning serious again.
“It is not the life I want, though.”
They spent the following hours dining in a nearby restaurant and then playing cards in Henryʼs room, in an attempt to distract their minds.
At midnight, Henry got up, put on his coat and was just about to take his suitcase when Oscar held him back.
“Leave your luggage with me. I will take care of it. If you do not want me around when you pick up Sarah, let me at least wait for the two of you at the docks. I will bring your suitcase there and then we will still have the chance to say goodbye to each other properly. After all, I would like to see Sarah before she leaves.”
“Alright,” Henry answered, and couldnʼt get rid of the feeling that yet again Oscar withheld some information from him.
For a long moment the two men were just standing there, staring at each other in oppressive silence, both of them aware of the hazards which lay ahead of them.
“So no goodbye then,” Henry said.
“No, no goodbye. Not yet,” Oscar answered.
“At the docks then.”
“Exactly. At the docks. Be careful, Henry.”
“I will.”
The two men hugged each other.
Then, with a strange mixture of fear and eager determination, Henry left the guesthouse, stepped outside into the pitch-dark night and climbed in the coach which he had booked earlier on and which would bring him to the hotel, where Sarah and Damian were staying.