Someone jerked open the door and shouted as if Walter were deaf, 'What the hell do you think you're doing?'
Walter took stock. The man was dressed in an overall. It was a very large overall, open at the chest because he was so broad that there was no possibility of the buttons meeting the holes intended for them. The gap was filled by a crop of black hair extending upwards in amazing exuberance to the top of his head, with only a nose and a pair of fierce brown eyes to indicate that this was an example of homo sapiens.
Walter said, 'Ah, you heard me signalling, then. Very good.'
The man in the overall said, 'Get out of that car.'
Walter obeyed. He was six foot tall himself, but he only came up to the shoulder of the overalls. He said, 'Chief Inspector Dew, late Scotland Yard.' When this seemed to make no impression he added, 'Investigations. Captain's orders. Do you happen to know who owns this vehicle?'
The man shook his head.
'It ought to be locked,' said Walter, it really ought to be locked.' He walked round to the back of the Lanchester and tried the handle of the luggage compartment. It opened, i don't like to see valuable property improperly secured.' He slammed the lid down, i'll have to report this. Which is the quickest way up to the bridge from here?'
The man pointed to a door and Walter nodded and went through it without another word being passed between them.
13
By noon, when the ship's whistle sent vibrations through the upper decks, there was standing room only in the smoking room, and not much of that. The announcement of the number of miles covered in the previous twenty-four hours aroused extraordinary excitement each day, not from pride in the Mauretania's performance so much as interest in the outcome of the auction pool. The passengers' anticipation had been fuelled after dinner the previous evening when the auction of the twenty numbers had raised thousands of dollars, spurred on by a personable chairman and attentive smoking room stewards, who took ten per cent of the winnings.
Johnny Finch was in possession of a number, a fancied number from the centre of the range, 540 miles. He had paid almost as many dollars for it in the auction, i splash out once a crossing,' he confided to Alma, who had come out of curiosity to hear the announcement. 'Never won yet, but never had the nerve before now to pay a top price for a really good number. My right ear-lobe has been itching like the devil, and that's a very reliable omen.'
Alma glanced at his ear. It certainly looked more pink than the other one. 'Perhaps it has something to do with your morning walk round the promenade deck,' she suggested. 'That ear is more exposed to the sea-wind. Why don't you try going clockwise for a change?'
Johnny laughed. 'Because then I wouldn't have a lucky ear. Alma, my dear, I never met anyone so solemn as you, and it's such enormous fun. Win or lose, I'm going to crack a bottle of fizz with you tonight and see if I can't make you laugh.'
'I'm not much of a drinker,' said Alma doubtfully.
'It shouldn't take much then,' said Johnny, with a wink, followed by a deft change of subject: 'I hear that the strangler's still at large.'
'I thought they caught someone attacking an American girl last night.'
'They did, but it was all a mistake. Inspector Dew spent the morning questioning the chap and now he's released him. It wasn't the strangler after all. I hope Dew knows what he's doing.'
'So do I.' Alma spoke from the heart, though without much confidence. She had the petrifying suspicion that Walter had set a killer loose out of some peculiar sense of fair play. What would he do if she were attacked tonight?
The chairman of the auction pool was beating the mahogany table with his gavel. Something close to silence descended on the smoking room. Fingers were crossed and private prayers sent up. Syndicates clustered in whispering groups, making final checks of the numbers they held. Individual possessors of numbers, like Johnny, knew theirs by heart.
'My lords, ladies and gentlemen, the officer of the watch has just sent down from the bridge this note of the number of sea miles the Mauretania has travelled since mid-day yesterday. I understand that there is a certain amount of interest in the information.'
'Get on with it!' came a shout from the back.
'Five hundred and fifty!' shouted someone else, and there was pandemonium as numbers were suggested from all over the room.
The chairman knocked on the table for order. He took another look at the sheet of paper in his hand. 'The winning number is five hundred and forty '
'By God — it's mine!' said Johnny in a gasp.
'- six,' said the chairman. 'Five hundred and forty-six.'
'Oh, no!' cried Alma in disappointment. 'Johnny, I'm sorry!' She put both her hands round one of his and squeezed it.
'Ah, well,' said Johnny philosophically, 'it seems you were right about those sea breezes on my ear.'
'Not necessarily,' said Alma.
'What do you mean?'
'There's still the prize for the best fancy dress, isn't there?'
14
After lunch the sea was choppy, if not rough. There was a distinct pitch and roll developing in the motion of the ship. Members of the crew were seen stringing lengths of rope across places where rails were not provided. The children's sports on deck were cancelled in favour of some Chaplin two-reelers in the drawing room. The screen proved so unstable that the pictures were projected onto the wall.
The fancy dress ball was not affected, except for the small number of passengers who retired to their rooms regretting ever having looked at food and drink. Coloured lanterns appeared in the dining saloon and their oscillations were agreed to add to the gaiety of the occasion. The chandeliers, by contrast, stayed immobile, their crystal pieces cunningly designed to stay rigid, confuting any movement of the ship.
Livy and Marjorie came as Antony and Cleopatra so that Marjorie could wear sandals and anklets. She had painted her toenails. Livy was wearing a bedspread and tennis shoes. He did not have the figure of an Antony, but he was happy to make any sacrifice for Marjorie. He had his flannels rolled up above the knees, ready to revert to 1921 at the earliest opportunity.
They had not been sitting for long at their table close to the dance floor when they were joined by Paul and Barbara as two Pilgrims. Through his false beard made from frayed rope Paul explained that they were hoping the judges would see the connection between their present voyage and the Mayflower crossing.
'They will,' said Livy. if it gets any rougher tonight, I'll be leading the prayer meeting.'
Barbara still looked pale from her frightening experience the previous night, and she made a convincing Pilgrim in a long brown skirt, white apron and high-buttoned jacket with a white collar and a plain scarf covering her bobbed hair.
'You feeling any better, honey?' Marjorie asked her.
'I'm fine now, Mother.'
'Inspector Dew has been talking to Barbara,' Paul added, it seems like it was all a misunderstanding. Jack Gordon didn't want to hurt her.'
'I heard,' said Marjorie, unconvinced.
'He only wanted to talk to me,' said Barbara.
'Do you really believe that?'
'It must be true, Mother. The Inspector has released him.'
'Yes, and it's a scandal. You have the marks on your neck still.'
'Mother, he is not the strangler. He wanted to talk to me about Katherine, the lady who was killed. She was his wife.'
'I know about that. They were card cheats. They were going to take you two for suckers. Have you thought about that? Gordon is a rat, Barbara. He shouldn't be walking free.'
'They didn't actually do anything,' said Paul. 'I guess the Inspector figures it's a waste of time to hold Jack Gordon.'
'You can ask him yourself,' said Livy. 'Looks like he's coming this way.'
Walter was not in fancy dress. He was wearing his usual dark suit and striped necktie. He looked more out of place than the people wearing outlandish fancy dress. He walked with a slight, self-conscious stoop, as if he was aware of it. He may ha
ve given a modified bow as he reached the Cordells' table, but it was hard to tell. He asked if he might join them for a few minutes.
Livy answered, 'Sure, Inspector. My wife Marje was just talking about you.'
'Livy!' said Marjorie through her teeth.
'She thought you would win the fancy dress prize,' Livy went on blithely, 'on account of the fact that you probably know more about disguise than anyone on the ship.'
Walter gave a thin smile, i see.'
'I thought you might be the Keystone Cop over there, or Mr Sherlock Holmes with the pipe and deerstalker and the blonde on his arm, but I guess that's too obvious.'
'I just looked in to have another word with your stepdaughter,‘ said Walter. 'How are you feeling now, Miss em..?'
'Much better, thank you,' said Barbara.
'I neglected to ask you something. When you had finished your coffee with Miss Masters — or Mrs Gordon, as I ought to call her- on Saturday night, did she go directly to bed?'
Paul interrupted. 'How would she know the answer to that?'
'She said she was going to bed,' said Barbara.
'You didn't go in that direction with her?'
'No.'
'We went back to the dining saloon for a couple more dances before the band finished,' said Paul. 'Hey! That was a big one!'
As Paul was speaking, the ship gave a strong lurch that sent the wine glasses sliding across the table. Barbara put her arm out and stopped them from falling off.
'Okay,' said Livy, picking up a waterjug. 'There's a way to deal with this.' He poured several small amounts of water onto the tablecloth. Then he positioned the glasses on the damp patches. 'See?'
'Livy has travelled by sea before,' said Marjorie proudly. 'My God, what's that?'
Everyone turned to see what had caught her attention. It was a figure under a white sheet, that had just come down the main staircase.
'If that is meant to be a ghost, I think it's in very bad taste,' Marjorie declared. 'Really! You'd think people would have more respect after what happened on Saturday. It's horrible.'
'I don't think it's meant to be a ghost,' said Barbara, if you look closely, it's pointed at the top and it has things projecting from the sides like cardboard boxes.' She laughed. 'Poor man, he's finding it hard to stand up with the ship rocking like this.'
'It's pretty spectacular, whatever it is,' said Paul, it must be eight feet tall. Why is the lower section coloured blue, do you think?'
'That's the sea,' said Livy. it's meant to be an iceberg.'
'Oh, my God!' said Marjorie in a scandalised voice. 'That's even more offensive. What a thing to do on a night like this! It's given me goose-bumps all over.'
'Mother, it's only someone having fun,' said Barbara.
'Fun! I don't call that fun. How do you think Livy feels, seeing a thing like that. It's no laughing matter to a man who was on the Titanic, is it, my darling?'
Livy gave her a puzzled look, and said, i was never on the Titanic, Marje. It was the Lusitania.'
'Same thing,' said Marjorie.
'Not really,' said Livy. 'We were struck by a torpedo, not an iceberg.'
'And the sea was perfectly calm,' added Walter unexpectedly, i never saw such a placid sea.'
'You?' said Livy. 'You were on the LusitaniaV
'Yes. With my, er …' Walter paused as if temporarily distracted. He had gone unexpectedly pale."… my father.'
'Strange,' said Paul, i was reading a piece about you last year in the Saturday Evening Post. They didn't mention it.'
'It was never made public,' said Walter resourcefully. 'I was using another name at the time.'
Across the room, Alma steered Johnny Finch to an empty table. He moved with difficulty under the sheets and with the boxes tied to his head and torso. 'Is it getting plenty of attention?' he asked her as he lowered himself carefully onto a chair.
'Yes, indeed. Everyone is looking this way. Are you comfortable?'
There was a muffled laugh from under the sheet. 'I could say I have a terrible thirst.'
'But if I get you a drink how can you possibly manage it?'
Another laugh. 'Don't worry, my dear. Johnny Finch isn't as dim as you think. I've got a flask of brandy under here.'
'I hope you can walk straight in the parade. The ship is starting to roll rather badly.'
'I'll be as firm as a rock.'
But by the time the drum-roll sounded for the parade, it looked doubtful whether anyone would be capable of staying upright for long. The ship had settled into a metronomic rise and fall, mercifully slow, but reaching more and more precipitous extremes. There was an unspoken sense of bravado among the revellers as they oohed in chorus when their stomachs told them that their side of the ship had peaked and was about to plunge again. Those with frailer constitutions had gone, leaving empty chairs that slid towards the centre unless they were wedged behind the tables.
Yet the parade mustered and moved off to a rousing regimental march, snaking between the tables so that support was to hand when it was wanted. There must have been nearly a hundred intrepid entrants for the competition, pirates arm in arm with ballerinas, cavaliers with witches, two pantomime horses and an ostrich, everyone laughingly assisting those around them to keep their footing, encouraged by the less bold spirits who provided the audience. There were a few minor slips and some collisions that added to the fun, and somehow the parade survived. Alma in her nurse's costume followed Johnny with her hands against his back, but he was right in his self-confidence. He did not falter once. Farther forward, Marjorie walked with one hand linked to Livy's arm, the other lifting the front of her Egyptian gown to mid-calf level. Paul and Barbara walked behind them holding hands and exchanging squeezes that had nothing to do with the movement of the ship.
Captain Rostron should have judged the fancy dress, but there was no objection when it was announced that he had decided not to leave the bridge. Instead the chief purser stood on the rostrum with the band and studied the variety of costumes passing by. Wisely no attempt was made to halt the movement. When the music stopped, the parade dispersed to listen to the results from the tables.
The winner of the ladies' section was one who came as Mile Lenglen, the tennis champion. It did not seem to matter that she looked totally unlike the unstoppable Suzanne. She carried a racket and wore a similar dress and, as Marjorie pertinently pointed out, she had been seen dancing with Big Bill Tilden every evening and it was in the interests of Cunard to keep on the right side of its more famous passengers.
A Charlie Chaplin costume took the gentlemen's prize, mainly because its wearer had created great amusement by tottering out of line repeatedly with the pitch and roll in a passable imitation of the famous tramp. The prize for the most original fancy dress went to the ostrich.
'Original, my foot!' said Johnny from under his sheet as he started to shed the boxes that had formed the understructure of the iceberg. 'He got it from some theatrical costumiers. There's no connection at all between an ocean voyage and an ostrich. Next time I shall come as a blessed albatross. Ah, well, there's still that bottle of fizz I promised you. You don't mind waiting while I change back to something I can dance in?'
'Of course not, but I doubt if I can drink champagne,' said Alma, glancing towards the table where Walter had been sitting before the parade. She felt sure he must have noticed her in Johnny's company, and she felt uneasy at his possible reaction. It was a dilemma. She hardly dared admit to herself that she felt differently now that Walter was a murderer, that he frightened her, that she felt safe only with Johnny. Being seen with Johnny could only make her situation more dangerous than it was.
She was relieved to see that Walter had left the table.
15
He had borrowed an oilskin and gone out to the boat deck at the request of the master-at-arms. One of the crew had reported seeing Jack Gordon on the starboard side, near number 5 lifeboat. Earlier in the day, when he had been released from detention, Gordon had given an
undertaking to remain in his stateroom for the rest of the day. It had been thought that his presence in any of the public areas of the ship might alarm certain passengers. And now the wretched man appeared to have broken his word. They had checked his stateroom and found it empty.
Walter cursed him as he stepped into a driving wind that sprayed his face with what felt like hail, and was actually spindrift whipped off the highest waves. He remembered Mr Saxon's advice to keep hold of the rail. He reached for it and started moving forward, watching the horizon rise to a point somewhere above the monkey island high above the bridge and then plunge out of sight below the prow. With the wind from the north-west, three-quarters of the night sky was clear. Wisps of cloud intermittently blotted out the moon, but Walter soon discerned a figure in an oilskin gripping the rail below one of the boats. Jack Gordon seemed completely absorbed in the breaking crests of the sea.
Walter got so close that he touched Jack's arm before he was noticed. He had to shout above the shrieking squalls.
'You said you would stay below.'
Jack turned his face to look at Walter. He said nothing.
'You gave your word,' shouted Walter.
Jack shrugged. 'What's the fuss? Nobody else is here.'
'You can't do this.'
'Leave me alone. Go back to the dance.'
'You're coming with me — back to your stateroom.'
'No.'
Walter showed that he was unused to dealing with open defiance. He became more conciliatory. 'This is no place to be on a night like this.'
Jack just stared at the sea.
'Why did you come up here?' shouted Walter conversationally.
'I feel safer.'
Walter laughed.
'I mean it. I'd rather be here than shut in my stateroom.'
'Why?'
'Safer to be near a lifeboat.'
'You must have been through storms before, scores of times.'
The False Inspector Dew Page 20
