by Conrad Allen
“You were right and I was wrong, Mr. Dillman,” he confessed.
“Your deputy hoodwinked us as well as you, Mr. Kilhendry,” said Dillman. “He never even crept onto the edge of my list of suspects.”
“Unlike me.”
“I had a feeling that someone in a uniform was involved.”
“What I can’t understand is why a man like Monsieur Vivet needed to steal,” said Kilhendry. “He’s a respected chef with a huge reputation in France.”
“That’s not quite true,” explained Genevieve. “Though he gave people his card to impress them, he was no longer employed by that hotel. He’d been sacked for stealing, and his reputation was in ruins. It struck me as odd that he was going to Egypt to work. When I asked him if he’d go back to France, he was very defensive.”
“We got the full story out of him when we arrested him,” Dillman added. “He left France in disgrace, went to England, and met up at some stage with your deputy. Apparently, Mr. Grandage was nursing a grudge against P and O because he had not been promoted to the rank of purser.”
“Yes,” said Kilhendry, “Martin was passed over several times.”
“It obviously hurt him. When he came across Monsieur Vivet, he realized that they had a lot in common. They were two disappointed men, looking for a chance to make good. The scheme they dreamed up was almost foolproof.”
“Until they came up against you and Miss Masefield.”
“We had some luck along the way,” said Genevieve.
“I’m the one who had the luck,” conceded Kilhendry, “and I was too boneheaded to acknowledge it. Having you two on board was my salvation. Yet all I did was to hinder you.” He gave a soulful smile. “I can understand how Martin felt. I was rejected by Cunard and never forgave them. Some of my bile spilled over onto you. I’m sorry about that. It was vindictive of me.”
“In a way,” said Dillman, “it helped. You were so antagonistic toward us that we were determined to prove ourselves. Your attitude spurred us on.”
“You deserve a special apology, Mr. Dillman,” said the purser. “I had a bad experience with some of your fellow Americans and I regret to say that I let it sour me. You suffered as a result. It’s too painful to go into details,” he explained. “Let’s just say that I once met a young lady in New York and thought I’d found the person I wanted to share my life with. She felt the same about me,” he said wistfully. “But, unfortunately, her family didn’t. They were wealthy and I was not. They told me that I wasn’t good enough for her. So they set out to break us apart in the most brutal way.” He waved a hand. “It’s all in the past and I should have outgrown it by now. Having met you, Mr. Dillman,” he went on, managing a grin, “I can see all Americans are not like that.”
“No,” replied Dillman. “I’m certainly not wealthy. You know the rates of pay for P and O crew, Mr. Kilhendry. None of us will be able to retire on our riches. We do the job because we happen to like it.”
“And it gives us the opportunity to travel,” said Genevieve.
“You’ll always be welcome on any ship of mine,” promised Kilhendry. “In fact, I’ll go out of my way to ask for the pair of you. We have four people in custody and the stink of crime is finally starting to clear. Captain Langbourne is very grateful to you. We haven’t even reached Port Said yet and you’ve swept the ship clean of villains.”
“Not necessarily,” Genevieve pointed out. “We may still have a few criminals aboard. It’s a long way to Australia. Anything can happen between now and then, Mr. Kilhendry. The two of us will have to stay on guard.”
“The three of us,” corrected Dillman. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Kilhendry?”
“Yes,” the purser said with enthusiasm. “The three of us.”
Port Said was a bustling harbor, teeming with people and full of tumult. So much was going on that it was difficult to take it all in at once. The royal party was the first to disembark, given a formal welcome on shore before being conducted to waiting cars. Other passengers then began to go down the gangway. The Goss family was among them, relieved that their stolen property had been found, though still stunned by the news that the Frenchman who had accompanied Polly Goss on the piano had been the thief. Myra and Lilian Cathcart were also eager to go ashore. Sorry to leave friends like Genevieve Masefield, they were excited by the thought of the vacation that lay ahead.
Frau Zumpe, Mabel Prendergast, and the Braddock sisters all insisted on thanking Genevieve once again before they left the ship. Karl-Jurgen Lenz merely gave her a curt bow as he took his farewell. The four prisoners were escorted off the ship under armed guard. Knowing the charges they faced, Martin Grandage and Claude Vivet looked grim, but there was no trace of discomfort about Roland Pountney and his father. They tripped down the gangway as if they were still on vacation. Nigel and Araminta Wilmshurst moved with less certainty. Though she held her husband’s arm, the young bride did not have the appearance of someone on honeymoon. She had an air of resignation about her.
George Porter Dillman was glad when they set sail again. He felt that the Marmora had unloaded a large amount of unwanted baggage. Other passengers had joined the ship in Port Said but none, he suspected, would pose the problems they had already encountered. It might actually be possible to enjoy the voyage to Australia from that point on. There was one certain way of ensuring that. Dillman waited until they were halfway down the Suez Canal before he broached the subject.
After dining at the captain’s table, he and Genevieve came up on deck. It was a warm evening, the ship glided smoothly through the water, and the sounds of the distant orchestra drifted into their ears. As the two of them stood at the rail, the stars cast a romantic glow.
“Captain Langbourne was in a buoyant mood this evening,” said Dillman.
“So he should be, George. We solved all the crimes for him.”
“He couldn’t thank me enough.”
“No,” said Genevieve. “I heard him. You had him eating out of your hand. He’s so impressed that I think he’d do absolutely anything for us.”
Dillman turned to look at her. “Anything at all?”
“Yes, George.”
“Do you think that he’d perform a wedding ceremony?”
He smiled fondly at her. Taken by surprise, Genevieve was too thrilled even to speak. Instead, she flung herself into his arms and gave him his answer in the only way that occurred to her. The orchestra played on and the Marmora surged forward, a moving beacon of light in a long corridor of darkness.
POSTSCRIPT
At the outbreak of the First World War, the Marmora became an auxiliary cruiser in the Royal Navy Tenth Cruiser Squadron. On July 23, 1918, she was torpedoed off the Irish coast by a German submarine. Ten members of the crew were killed.
In December 1911, the Princess Royal and her family were on their way to Egypt on the P&O liner Delhi, when the vessel was wrecked on the coast of Morocco. All were rescued, but the Duke of Fife caught pleurisy as a result of immersion in the sea and died on January 29, 1912.
About the Author
Conrad Allen is better known as Edward Marston, the Edgar-nominated author of the Nicholas Bracewell series and of several other historical mysteries. He lives in England.
Find out more about him at www.edwardmarston.com
