“Can you be ready in half an hour, Miss Chandler?”
Rocky smiled and nodded.
“Yes. I’ll be at the gangway.”
He walked away, and Clive muttered with boyish anger and jealousy: “I’d like to chuck him overboard.”
“You’d have a job,” Rocky answered.
He looked at her pleadingly.
“What do you suppose I’m going to do?” he asked.
“What would you do if I wasn’t on board?” she retorted; and then, relenting: “Don’t be horrid, Clive. He asked me, and I said, ‘Yes,’ and that’s all about it.”
He said sullenly: “I suppose you’d arranged to meet him last night too, and that’s why you were so anxious to be rid of me.”
Rocky finished her coffee and rose.
“I’m not going to talk to you while you’re in this mood,” she said firmly. She went down to her cabin and put on her hat, trying not to see the broken suitcase which was unkindly sticking out from beneath the bed. That was the greatest tragedy of all, she thought—the realisation that she was entirely without money except for some odd silver.
She had never dreamed that such things could happen on board ship, that anyone would deliberately steal, and then suddenly she was asking herself for the hundredth time: “Where had the money come from in the first place?”
Not from Louis—because he could not have been alive when that envelope had been slipped so mysteriously through the letter-box that terrible morning; not from her father, surely, because, although he and she had been quite good friends, she had soon recognised that he had no real affection for her and that he would not be likely to concern himself with her future when his own was in jeopardy. Where was he now? she wondered, and would they ever meet again?
Did Richard Wheeler know anything about him? When presently she met him at the head of the gangway her eyes flung him an anxious question, but he only smiled.
“Punctual lady! I think we are going to find it very warm.”
He looked very attractive, she thought—and then she wondered what Gina was doing, and whether, if she knew, she was feeling as hurt and angry as Clive was feeling.
What a muddle everything was! And yet surely there was no reason why she should refuse to go with Wheeler just because Clive objected—or Gina?
“And how are we this morning?” Wheeler asked as they walked ashore, to be instantly surrounded by a clamouring swarm of natives selling gaudy bead necklaces, cigarettes, carved wooden toys, offering to be their guide, imploring Rocky to have her fortune told, and saucily calling her “Greta Garbo.”
“We’ll get a car,” Wheeler said, and at once a dozen cars were placed at his disposal.
“I have a fine car, saar—a very fast car and a good driver, saar— he show you all the places—-you take my car.”
“Go away” Wheeler said, but Rocky laughed and whispered:
“It’s rather fun, isn’t it?”
She was amazed to find that she was recovering her spirits, and that the tragedy of last night had at last begun to fade into the mists of forgotten things.
And then she was telling herself: “If only it was as easy as that!” And then she remembered with a new and appalling sense of despair that she was entirely without money.
“Here we are,” Wheeler said. “This car looks all right.”
Rocky climbed in, and he followed, and they were driven away.
Chapter
11
Miss Esther had never been so happy in her life, and even the fact that she had been rather evasive in her explanations to her sister when she said that she was “going ashore with the same people,” leaving Miss Pawson to suppose she meant Clive Durham and his sister and the other young folk, she was not in the least conscience-stricken because she knew quite well that she was going with only Sir John.
This was the most wonderful voyage of her life! She had been abroad before, generally to the South of France or to Brittany, because as a rule if they had the money they tried to avoid the winter in England owing to Miss Pawson’s tendency to bronchitis, but this journey to the other side of the world had—since the ship stopped at Toulon—developed into something so utterly different that Miss Esther was afraid to think or to dare to look ahead and wonder what fresh delights were in store for her.
“And it’s all due to Rocky,” she told herself as she tried on all her hats in turn and wondered whether she would dare to venture ashore without a coat or umbrella.
Miss Esther had not really an “umbrella” mind; for one thing she disliked umbrellas and had a tiresome habit of leaving them behind in shops and other people’s houses.
“You should buy one with a hook handle,” the elder Miss Pawson often said. “Then you can hang it on your arm and there will be no fear of forgetting where you left it.”
But Miss Esther did not like hook handles, so on this particular morning as she dressed to go ashore with Sir John Stannard, she carefully avoided glancing in the corner of her cabin where the umbrella stood, and concentrated on the sunshine outside the porthole, and the fact that she had always been told that Port Said was one of the warmest places on earth.
Sir John had told her there was no immediate hurry to leave the ship.
“We shall be here for some hours,” he said, “and you must not get over-tired; there is not a great deal to see.”
“Oh, thank you,” Miss Esther answered gratefully, chiefly because of his concern for her; it was so wonderful that such a man should trouble as to whether she was tired or not; certainly her sister sometimes said, “You’ll only wear yourself out—” or, “You’ve walked about quite enough for one day; lie down and rest.” But that was altogether different, and when finally she decided that the shady little straw hat with the black and white ribbon was the most suitable and becoming, she was so happy and excited that she felt more like seventeen than her right age, which, so the elder Miss Pawson always declared, was nobody’s business but her own.
“It seemed foolish to pretend about such things,” Miss Esther told herself. “After all, everyone gets old—it’s not as if I’m the only one.”
It was funny, Miss Esther thought as she sorted through her glove-box for the nicest-looking pair, how much her life had been ordered by her elder sister. Perhaps there was something wrong in her own composition—some slight weakness of character—which made it impossible for her to stand up for herself or to put a foot firmly down when she wished to go her own way.
And that thought turned her attention to shoes, and she glanced down at her feet, very small and neat they were—and decided that her one white pair of shoes with black strappings was just the thing for such a morning and for such an adventure.
So she hurriedly changed them, carefully tying the laces into very even bows before realising she had taken quite an hour over her toilet. She hurried on deck.
Sir John was there, looking as smart and unruffled as ever, and she thought: “Of course, it’s not so exciting for you—you’ve been here heaps of times before.”
But she could not quite believe that it was just her imagination that there was a little smile of approval in Sir John’s eyes as he peered down at her through his monocle, and she thought happily: “Perhaps I do look rather nice.”
A very brown-faced youth was selling bunches of violets at the gangway, and Sir John said:
“I think to begin the day properly you must have some to wear —don’t you agree?”
“Oh yes, thank you so much,” Miss Esther answered. She would have agreed to any suggestion he chose to make, and her heart beat so quickly she thought she would choke when he stooped to fasten the sweet-scented things into her frock.
“There! … Is that all right?” he asked.
“Lovely,” she answered, afraid to raise her eyes, and then suddenly she gave a little cry. “Oh, I’ve left my bag behind.”
In the excitement of dressing, of course, but how foolish!
Sir John laughed.
&nbs
p; “Well, I daren’t suggest that you go without it,” he said tolerantly; “but don’t be too long; we seem to be the last ashore as it is.”
Miss Esther fled back up the gangway and dived down the stairs to C deck.
How annoying of her! she thought in vexation. She had read in books and in articles written by people who should know that there is nothing a man dislikes so intensely as being kept waiting.
The ship seemed very silent and deserted as she patted along the passage-way, so no doubt Sir John was right when he said that they were the last to go ashore—and there was no sign of a steward or any of the usual bustle as she pushed open her cabin door with an agitated hand.
The bag! … Now, where had she left it? And then she gave a gasp and stopped dead, staring, for there was a strange man in her cabin, standing at an open drawer—a strange man who swung round with a muttered imprecation, dropping to the floor the little velvet box in which she kept her few old-fashioned bits of jewellery. For the fraction of a second they stared at one another speechlessly, and then as the man took a quick stride towards her Miss Esther fled for her life, banging the door behind her and crying at the top of her voice: “Help—help——”
Fortunately, Miss Pawson’s cabin was on the other side of the ship, or she might have died from shock at the sudden loud insistence of Miss Esther’s voice, and then to her unutterable thankfulness a steward appeared—from nowhere, so it seemed—and just as her cabin door was wrenched open from within she managed to gasp: “There’s a man in my cabin—he’s stealing my things.”
And then, in less time than it afterwards took her to relate, the whole passage seemed suddenly to be alive with people, and there was a scuffle and a hoarse shout of “Let me go. Do you hear? Let me go.” And then Miss Esther’s stewardess was giving her a glass of water and saying soothingly:
“It’s all right, they’ve caught him. There’s nothing to be afraid of—they’ve got him, and he won’t get away.”
Miss Esther sipped the water and cast a timid glance at the man who, with dishevelled coat and torn collar, was being dragged, resisting, away by a couple of stalwart stewards.
The strange part of it was that she was not really so frightened— that she was feeling rather brave and proud of herself for her presence of mind in slamming the door in his face and in calling for help.
And then someone fetched one of the officers, and Miss Esther told her story, worrying all the time as to what Sir John could be thinking at the delay, until she suddenly saw him appear at the foot of the stairs.
“Why, what’s all this about?” he asked, and someone kindly explained for her, and she felt radiantly happy when his first question was: “You’re not hurt? He didn’t touch you?”
“Oh no.”
“The villain,” Sir John said. “If I’d caught him I’d have thrashed him within an inch of his life.”
The officer smiled.
“He won’t get away too easily, Sir,” he assured him calmly.
Miss Esther straightened her hat, which had gone all awry.
“Who is the poor man?” she asked timidly.
“Poor man!” Sir John echoed fiercely, so fiercely that she did not like to admit that she was really a little sorry for him, even though he had been helping himself to her belongings, and at the back of her tender mind she hoped that those nice stewards who had come to the rescue were not treating him too roughly.
“We must just see if there is anything missing,” the officer said, and he opened the cabin door which the man had banged up after him. Miss Esther walked boldly in. Her little handbag was overturned on the floor, and the small velvet box and its precious contents were strewn wildly around.
Somebody gathered them all up for her, and she counted them carefully. “I don’t think there’s anything missing,” she said at last, with a sigh of thankfulness. “And as there isn’t—couldn’t we —don’t you think the poor man might be allowed to go?”
“What?” Sir John demanded with a roar; and the officer said:
“It won’t be as simple as all that, I am afraid—there have been other robberies in this ship. If you will come to the Purser’s office, Miss-—” He looked at Miss Esther enquiringly.
“Pawson,” she said in a subdued voice.
“—Miss Pawson,” he repeated, “we shall want a few particulars.”
She glanced appealingly at Sir John.
“Shan’t we be able to go ashore?” she asked.
“Of course we shall—we can finish this matter in a few minutes,” he comforted her; and he stood beside her—a tower of strength, she felt—while she gave a detailed account, as far as she could remember it, of her adventure.
It was all written down in black and white, and then the officer said, “Thank you; I think that is all for the moment,” and Miss Esther and Sir John departed.
“Are you sure you feel well enough to go ashore?” he asked dubiously; and Miss Esther answered quickly:
“Oh yes,” and then, as if the fact amazed her, she added, “I wasn’t really frightened—I don’t know why, but I wasn’t really frightened.”
“You behaved very bravely,” he assured her. “And you have probably done the ship a great service—there have been one or two minor robberies during the last few days.”
“What will they do with the poor man?” Miss Esther asked.
Sir John growled. “They’ll probably hand him over to the police,” he said.
She glanced up at him. “You mean—he won’t be able to finish the voyage?” she asked.
Sir John smiled grimly. “We don’t know yet whether he is a passenger,” he reminded her. “But if so, I hardly imagine he will be given the royal suite as far as Sydney.” And then again he asked, “Are you sure you want to go ashore after so much excitement?”
“Oh yes”.
“Got your bag this time?” he asked with a twinkle.
Miss Esther nodded, her mind still on the struggling figure of the strange man. “I wonder why he chose my cabin,” she ventured.
“He probably didn’t know whose it was,” Sir John comforted her. “But your part of the ship happened to be deserted at the moment, and so he took a chance. I hope you are one of the wise people who have placed your valuables in charge of the Purser?”
“I’m afraid I haven’t anything very valuable,” she admitted. “But I shouldn’t have liked to lose my little bits of jewellery— there is a brooch that belonged to my mother, and a bracelet my father gave me when I was twenty-one, but they are not very valuable except to me.”
“And now we’ll forget all about it,” he said cheerfully, “and enjoy ourselves, shall we?” He glanced at his watch. “Do you know that it’s nearly twelve o’clock already? I think we’ll go straight to the hotel and get some lunch. It’s only a short distance from the ship, but if you don’t feel like walking—”
“Oh, but I should enjoy a walk,” she declared, and she felt that she was treading on air as with Sir John’s tall figure beside her they crossed the long pontoon bridge which connected the ship with the shore.
“This way,” Sir John said. “And mind the traffic.” He held her arm as they crossed the road.
Miss Esther stopped to look back at the ship.
“I had no idea it was such a big ship,” she said; and then a moment later: “And I didn’t think Port Said would be such a modern town.”
Sir John laughed. “Oh, we’re very civilised in most corners of the world nowadays,” he told her. “And I think you will like the hotel—they give you a very decent lunch.”
“And there’s Rocky and Mr. Wheeler,” Miss Esther said as excitedly as if she had not seen either of them for weeks. “Just getting out of that car.” She waved her hand to Rocky and the girl came running towards them.
“Isn’t it all marvellous?” she asked. “We’ve driven all round the town and seen everything. Are you going to have lunch here?”
“We’ve only just come ashore,” Sir John told her. “Miss
Esther has had an adventure.”
“An adventure?” Rocky echoed.
Miss Esther flushed and nodded. “Yes, I found a man in my cabin——”
“A thief” Sir John broke in hardily. “And thanks to Miss Esther he was caught—she behaved like the heroine she is.”
“A thief?” Rocky said sharply; she turned to Wheeler who had joined them. “Did you hear that? Miss Esther found a thief in her cabin.” Her eyes flung him an eager question.
“He hadn’t taken anything,” Miss Esther said hurriedly. “But I’m afraid he meant to.”
Sir John laughed. “Hark at the Innocent Abroad!” he said very kindly.
“Who was the fellow?” Wheeler asked.
“We don’t know yet,” Sir John answered. “But I expect when we get back to the ship we shall hear all about it.” He touched Miss Esther’s arm. “Come along and get some lunch, my dear.”
“He didn’t intend us to join them,” Rocky said with a little smile when she and Wheeler were alone, and then quickly: “Do you—think—is there any hope—about my money, now, I mean?”
“We mustn’t count on it,” Wheeler answered. He glanced round the restaurant. “Where would you like to sit?”
“I don’t mind—not too near Miss Esther and Sir John; we don’t want to spoil sport.”
Wheeler looked across at Sir John.
“Are you trying to encourage a romance between those two?” he asked rather dryly. Rocky shook her head.
“I don’t think you can encourage a romance, not ready—do you?” she asked seriously. “I always think it spoils things if anyone tries to interfere—no matter how kindly they mean it.”
“That sounds as if you speak from experience,” he answered.
“No,” Rocky said. “I’ve never had any romance—unless you count—” she stopped; and then added a little defiantly: “Poor Louis.”
Wheeler’s face hardened a little, but he said lightly: “We made a compact not to speak of the past today, didn’t we?”
“I know, but—it’s not so easy,” she answered. And then she picked up the menu and began to study it with an interest she was not really feeling. Her thoughts were still on Miss Esther’s burglar, and she felt that she wanted to rush helter-skelter back to the ship to find out whether there was any possible connection between him and the person who had so ruthlessly broken open her own suitcase.
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