UNDERCOVER on the TITANIC (book 1)

Part 38 - Sir Archie Saint Denny

'Oh blast!' Charlotte turned bright pink and rearranged the remnants of food on her plate. 'I, er . . . we . . . um.'

With his glass dangling from his hand, Denny lolled back in his chair with a sardonic smile. 'No sir . . . you are the imposter.'

All the people at nearby tables were staring at us as an officer arrived at our table with two burly stewards. The officer looked from the man to Denny. 'Excuse the interruption gentlemen. I am Fifth Officer Jones and these are my assistants Messrs Smith and Smythe.  Is there someway we can help?'

'I have no-no h-intention of letting any messers, or smiths, mess with h-us in anyway h-at all,' Denny slurred.

The other man ignored the officer. 'I am told you are impersonating me,' he snapped at Denny.  'Who are you, sir?' 

 'That's h-impossible, sir,' Denny laughed. 'I am told you were h-impersonating me. Who h-are you, sir?'

'You are an imposter, sir. I am Sir Saint Denny.'

'No I h-am the real Sir Denny, sir.   You are an h-imposter'

'No, you are the real imposter. I am Sir Denny'

'No, I am the real  . . . h-imposter . . . Wait a tick, that didn't sound quite right.'

Smith and Smythe's heads twitched from right to left and left to right as if they were watching a tennis match as they looked from Denny to the other man. 

'They do look alike,' Smith muttered. 'I was going to say the same thing,' Smythe said. 'Twins.'

'This is preposterous. Everyone knows I am Sir Archie Saint Denny. I insist . . . who are you?'

Denny flicked the ash from his cigar, sipped his drink and drawled. 'H-Achibald, I am your long lost twin brother, H-Algernon.'

Sir Denny stepped back in amazement. 'What an incredible story . . . Can this be true? Indeed, you do look like me, somewhat. But, but, but, how can this be?'

'I was kidnapped at birth by our nurse and taken to Canada,' Denny said carefully. 'Hic-I knew nothing of our relationship until her recent death. She left me a letter telling of my relationship to you. Thus, hic-I have returned to claim my hic-inheritance.'

'But, I am sure my dear departed mother would have informed me if I had a twin brother.'

'Our mother supposed that I had died at birth for she was so informed by the nurse.'

'Algernon, may I call you Algy?' Sir Archie Saint Denny asked. 

'This is far too intimate a conversation to be held in the restaurant. There are far too many wagging ears in the vicinity. Let us adjourn to the lounge.'

'Hic-I should be delighted, my dear chap,' Denny said. 'Please, lead the way.' He picked up the bottle of wine and gestured to a waiter. 'Another glass for my dear, (hic) long lost brother.'

The lounge was luxuriously furnished with deep, soft carpets and huge soft, leather-covered arm chairs and it was already crowded with people, mostly men, smoking cigar and playing card games. There were a few young women using long cigarette holders. The atmosphere was already turning into a fog of smoke. Faintly, the sound of a piano accompanied by a violin filtered through the general hubbub of conversations. I noticed Third Officer Jones and his assistants had discreetly disappeared by the time Denny and Sir Saint Denny found a couple of arm chairs in a corner. 

The rest of us squashed into two others and Denny launched into an interesting tale of his life in Canada. He told the enthralled Sir Denny that he had grown up on a farm and then got work floating logs down the Ottawa river to Montreal. When he started describing his adventures hunting with a band of Algonquin Indians and trapping beavers to make top hats, I had a suspicion that he was making this up. Later, supposedly, he had worked on the Canadian Pacific Railroad and prospected for gold in the Northwest Territories. 

In the winters he built igloos for the local Innuit. (In England, they were known as Eskimos). There he met his Metis (half Indian) wife and had three children, Miguel and Licia and me. He had not been lucky with the gold. He had found only enough to live on until his wife died suddenly.  But, while digging a grave in the frozen ground, he had struck a small vein of gold and that had given him the wealth make the journey to London. When he started quoting Robert Service's famous poem, 'There are strange things done in the midnight sun by the men who moil for gold . . . ' 

Licia groaned. 'Puh-lease,' she coughed. 'I don't know about you guys, but it's already ten twen'y by that clock on the wall and I need some fresh air.'

'I think you mean ten twen-ty,' Charlotte laughed. 'But, I will join you,' she added eagerly. 'Let us repair to the boat deck.'

❘❘ ❘❘❘ ❘❘❘❘❘❙ ❙❙ ❙❙ ❙❘❘❘❘ ❘❘❘❘ ❘❘