by Conrad Allen
“What use would they be to me?”
“Exactly.”
“I have all the money that I require.”
“Yes, you told me you had an unexpected windfall.”
“Oh, it was not very much,” said the old man, smiling for the first time, “but it shows that some of us from India do know how to behave. You remember that trick I played on that officer on the first day?”
“Using that sheet of newspaper, you mean? Yes, I do.”
“I outwitted him with the power of the mind. One of the people who watched me was a young Parsi from Bombay. He asked me if he could borrow my trick to use on someone else. Of course, I said that he could. And what do you think happened?”
“He probably won a bet as a result.”
“Twenty whole rupees! That’s twice as much as I had off the officer. Only this friend of mine was very honorable,” said Singh. “Since he had learned the trick from me, he insisted on giving me half of his winnings.”
Dillman was delighted to hear it. The explanation removed the faint suspicion of the old man that he had himself entertained. He had never been annoyed with Genevieve before, but he felt his irritation rising when he saw how badly she had hurt Guljar Singh’s feelings. In accusing him, she was looking in the wrong direction altogether.
“I’ll talk to this detective,” he resolved. “I’m sure that she made an honest mistake, Mr. Singh, and will be only too ready to apologize.”
The old man shook his head. “The English never apologize,” he declared. “If you can make this lady say that she is sorry, I will believe that it is you who have strange powers and not me.”
Before he spoke, Sylvester Greenwood waited until the steward removed the tray from his daughter’s cabin. Lois was pale and withdrawn.
“You didn’t eat very much,” he chided.
“I was not hungry.”
“You do realize why I had to punish you in this way, don’t you?”
“I like roller-skating, Daddy,” she protested.
“There’s a time and place for recreation, Lois. The time is not close to midnight, and the place is most certainly not the deck of the Salsette. What on earth were you thinking about? You might have been seen.”
“Nobody was there—except Mr. Dillman.”
“Yes,” he said, “that’s what I want to talk to you about. Did you tell him that I have a framed copy of my election poster on the wall?”
“I may have done.”
“That was confidential information.”
“It’s not exactly a state secret, Daddy.”
“Don’t be impudent!”
“Mr. Dillman was interested in your political career.”
“Why?”
“You’ll have to ask him that?”
“I did, Lois,” he replied, “and I found him very evasive. There’s something about that man that I don’t trust. My guess is that he wasn’t on deck last night by accident.”
“He’s a friend. He came to have a chat.”
“Yes—about me.”
“What harm is there in that? Honestly, I just don’t understand why you’re reacting like this. Anybody would think that Mr. Dillman was a spy or something.” She saw his grim expression. “Is that what you think?”
“Tell me what he said.”
“I’ve already done that,” she said.
“Only in outline,” he argued. “I want the fine detail now. Tell me exactly what Mr. Dillman asked you, Lois—word for word.”
______
When he caught up with her, they adjourned to his cabin at once. Genevieve had never been put on the defensive in that way before and she was not enjoying the experience at all.
“I felt I had enough evidence to act,” she said, trying to justify her confrontation with Guljar Singh. “Mrs. Verney had no doubt that he was the thief.”
“Why—did she actually see him steal her purse?”
“Of course not. She was asleep.”
“I see. So she dreamed that Guljar Singh was guilty.”
“There’s no need to be sarcastic, George.”
“I’ve just left the old man. He’s in a state of complete dejection.”
“He was there,” insisted Genevieve. “In the case of Mrs. Verney and that of Mrs. Gilbert. Don’t you find that odd?”
“Not at all. Guljar Singh virtually lives on the main deck.”
“Both times, he was only yards from where the purse was stolen.”
“And what about Mrs. Lundgren?” he asked. “She had her purse stolen on deck. Did she mention a phantom Sikh, waiting to pounce?”
“George!”
“No, she didn’t. Neither did Madame Roussell. There are four crimes to investigate, Genevieve, and I’d bet anything that they’re the work of the same thief. Whatever his name is,” he urged, “it’s not Guljar Singh.”
Genevieve bit back a reply. When he had reproached her before, he had always done it as gently as he could. This time, however, Dillman was letting a touch of anger show. It worried her. For his part, he felt that he had spoken too sharply. He gave an apologetic smile and took her into his arms. The loving embrace reassured her.
“I’m sorry,” he said, holding her tight.
“It was my fault, George. I was too hasty.”
“That makes two of us.”
“You always told me to be absolutely certain before approaching a suspect like that. I suppose the truth is that I was too anxious to solve the crimes. The victims have been bearing down on me for an arrest.”
“I know. They expect instant detection. But that was no excuse for me to chide you,” he said. “I’m sure that you didn’t intend to upset Guljar Singh. The trouble is that he’s very sensitive to criticism.”
“So am I.”
Dillman kissed her on the lips and hugged her to him. “Forgive me?” he asked. “I don’t ever want us to fall out, Genevieve.”
“There’s nothing to forgive.”
“I think there is. It won’t happen again, I promise.”
“I should have consulted you first,” she admitted. “I see that now. But you were too busy pursuing your own investigation, and I was under such pressure to do something.”
“That was the problem.”
“I was too eager.”
“You had to look into the matter, Genevieve.”
“Yes, but I didn’t have to hurt the old man’s feelings like that. I tried to be polite but he flew off the handle.”
“I can imagine.”
“Then you come along and take his side.”
“Not exactly,” he said. “I’m fond of Guljar Singh, that’s all. I hated to see him so disturbed. But the simple fact is that you’re my partner, in every way, and I should always support you.”
“Supposing that he had been the thief?”
“Not a chance.”
“But if he had—for the sake of argument.”
“Then I’d have arrested him myself.”
“Even though you liked him?”
“There’s no such thing as a likable thief.”
Dillman let her go and brought her up to date with his own movements, telling her about his visit to the medical room, and about his confrontation with Sylvester Greenwood. When she heard mention of the Gurkha who had arrived on the scene, Genevieve was alarmed.
“Don’t put yourself in jeopardy.”
“I’ll happily do so if it will flush out the killer.”
“You ought to carry a weapon,” she urged. “Ask Mr. Cannadine to authorize the master-at-arms to issue you with a revolver.”
“It hasn’t come to that stage yet, Genevieve.”
“What stage has it come to?”
“Well,” he sighed, “let’s take the thefts first. I’ve got a feeling that the only way we’ll recover the stolen property is to institute a search of selected cabins.”
“That’s what I told the purser. He was very unhappy about it, but he accepted that we might have to go to that extreme. Mr
. Cannadine is as anxious to catch this thief as we are.”
“He doesn’t want to face an irate Madame Roussel, that’s why.”
“Oh, I was forgetting. He discovered the most extraordinary thing about her, George.”
“That she runs a bordello in Paris?”
“That, too, is possible,” she said. “No, I asked him to check his records to see when Madame Roussel had sailed on the Salsette before. This turns out to be her fourth voyage in just over a fortnight.”
He was amazed. “You mean that she’s been going to and fro across the Arabian Sea?”
“Apparently.”
“Why?” he asked, rubbing a hand across his chin. “What’s the point of going to India if you come straight back again?”
“It doesn’t make sense.”
“Madame Roussel must have a very good reason to do that.”
“I can’t think of one.”
“I can, Genevieve,” he said, trying to work it out in his mind. “Suppose that she pulled the wool over our eyes. Suppose that she’s been working this ship because there are such easy pickings.”
“Madame Roussel is the thief?”
“It’s one explanation.”
“But she was the first victim, George.”
“That’s how she presented herself to us. What better way to throw us off the scent? She must have an accomplice—the man she’s been careful not to name. He took the jewelry from her cabin and she left the door unlocked to make it easy for him. The other thefts were opportune crimes on deck.”
“Hers is the one cabin we’d never think of searching.”
“Until now.”
“Do you really think she’d devious enough to do this?”
“Yes, I do,” he decided. “I think she’s a good actress. She can turn that outrage on and off like a tap. It’s such a cunning trick.”
“What is?”
“Arranging to have her own jewelry stolen then blaming the P and O. She’ll get the insurance money and—if she yells loud enough—some added compensation from the company. And all for valuables that are still hers.”
“I just can’t think of Madame Roussel as a criminal somehow.”
“That’s because of the way she’s deceived us.”
“I wonder.” She looked at him. “What are we going to do?”
“Watch her very carefully, Genevieve.”
“Why?”
“Because if my theory is right,” he said, “she won’t stop there.”
“I’m not sure that your theory is right. The other evening, you spoke to her outside her cabin. Shortly afterwards, you were certain that you’d almost brushed shoulders with the thief. How could Madame Roussel be in two places at once?”
“She wasn’t—her accomplice was. No wonder she won’t tell us his name. All right,” he went on, “I know you have reservations and so do I. But I guarantee that we’ll soon have another theft on this ship.”
Madame Roussel walked quickly along the corridor, checked the number of a cabin, and inserted the key into the lock. Ensuring that nobody could see her, she darted inside.
ELEVEN
After her argument with Dillman, Genevieve had to accept that Guljar Singh was almost certainly not the culprit, and that she therefore had to look elsewhere. The suggestion that Madame Roussel might be a thief—or at the very least that she was working in partnership with one—forced Genevieve Masefield to think very hard about her strategy for solving the crimes. It was true that the Frenchwoman had been the first to report a theft on ship, but Genevieve had encountered such a ruse before. As well as deflecting suspicion from Madame Roussel, it would also enable her to find out who the ship’s detectives might be, a crucial piece of information for any criminal.
The problem was that Genevieve could not devote all her time to watching Madame Roussel in the hope that she might give herself away. Unlike Dillman, during his days as a Pinkerton agent, she had not been trained to shadow someone without being seen, and there was the simple fact that the Frenchwoman did not like or trust her. If she became aware of Genevieve’s surveillance—and if she proved to be innocent of the crimes—Madame Roussel would report the female detective to the captain, and that would have unpleasant repercussions for her.
Genevieve had to achieve her objective by other means. Left alone in her cabin, she wrestled with her dilemma for some time until she realized that she knew exactly the right person to help her. Hurrying to the second-class area of the ship, she sought out Paulo Morelli. After commiserating at length with him over his dismissal, she asked him if he would like the opportunity to redeem himself.
“I would do anything,” he declared, hands together as if in prayer. “I belong in first class. Please tell me how I can get back there.”
“I can offer you no firm promises,” she said, “but it will advance your case a great deal if you assist me.”
“What must I do?”
“First of all, Paulo, you have to keep a secret.”
“Oh, I am very good at that, signorina. I know how to seal the lips.”
“I hope so,” she warned. “Because if you divulge what I’m about to tell you, there’ll be no chance at all of you returning to first class. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, yes.”
He nodded vigorously. They were standing outside the quarters used by second-class stewards. Morelli was now sharing a cabin with five other men, all of whom he considered to be inferior in ability and status. He was desperate to escape from the ignominy of being demoted. For that reason, Genevieve decided that she could put her faith in him.
“I’m not simply a passenger traveling on the Salsette,” she said. “I work for P and O as a detective.” He was stunned by the news. “Yes, it may be difficult to believe, Paulo, but it’s true. Some thefts have taken place aboard and it’s my job to find the thief.”
“You are a policeman?” he said, incredulously.
“I’m a private detective, working onboard with a partner. There’s no need for you to know his identity just yet. Like me, he’s been operating quietly behind the scenes.”
“This is wonderful, signorina. You are not only the most beautiful lady on the ship, you catch the thieves, as well.”
“I try to catch them, Paulo.”
“Why do you tell this to me?”
“Because I need your assistance.”
“Me?” The notion delighted him. “I am to help a detective?”
“I hope so, Paulo.”
“What must I do?”
“Keep an eye on a second-class passenger for me.”
“It will not be easy for me,” he explained. “I have many duties.”
“I’ll speak to the chief steward,” she said, “and get him to relieve you of some of them. This investigation is more important than whether or not someone gets the towels changed in their cabin.”
“Grazie, grazie.”
“The main thing is that you are discreet.”
“Oh, I always am.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!”
“Not according to Mr. Cannadine.”
“Do not believe all you hear,” he said defensively. “The complaints against me are all from ladies who wish me to pay more attention to them than I am allowed to do. So they report me.”
“If you obey my instructions, I’ll report you, as well—only my report will show you in the most favorable light.”
“I like that very much. Who must I keep the eye on?”
“A French lady named Madame Roussel.”
“But I already know her,” he said with a laugh. “I meet her before. She is on the Salsette again?”
“Yes, Paulo. Apparently, it’s her fourth trip.”
“She always travel in first class. Madame Roussel is very lovely. Why is she sailing in second class this time?”
“That’s something I need to look into,” said Genevieve. “Since you already know who she is, it will make your job a little easier. Now, th
is is what I want you to do, Paulo.” And she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
George Dillman was leaving the purser’s office when he saw her walking toward him down the corridor. Lois Greenwood gave a cry of surprise.
“I was just coming in search of you, Mr. Dillman,” she said.
“Were you?”
“Yes, I was going to ask the purser if he could tell me which cabin you were in.” She held up an envelope. “I intended to slip this note under your door.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to say sorry.”
“You’ve no need to do that, Miss Greenwood,” he said.
“But I feel that I do. Daddy tells me that he spoke to you.”
“That’s true.”
“And I can guess what he said. He’s not a man to mince his words when he’s angry. For some reason, he’s been caught on the raw. He made me repeat almost every word we’ve exchanged.”
“Did he tell you why?”
“No, Mr. Dillman. It was like being in the Spanish Inquisition.”
“Then I should be apologizing to you. If you hadn’t talked to me on deck last night, you wouldn’t be in such hot water.”
“Oh, yes, I would,” she told him. “Daddy didn’t even know that I’d brought my roller skates on this trip. He thought that it was disgraceful of me to skate around the deck at night—disgraceful and dangerous. I might have had an accident and broken my leg.”
“Or collided with someone,” he reminded her gently.
“Exactly—that’s why I wanted you to read this.” She gave him the envelope. “Though now that I’m here, I might as well tell you what’s in it.”
Pleased to see her, Dillman was also worried about Lois. Red marks around her eyes showed that she had been crying, and he knew that she had been confined to her cabin as a result of her last meeting with him. Evidently, she was acting in open defiance of her father, and that showed courage on her behalf. However, Dillman did not want to get her into any more trouble.
“Look,” he said, “perhaps we shouldn’t be seen here like this.”
“It’s all right. Daddy is in the lounge with some friends.”
“Does he know that you’ve left your cabin?”
“Yes and no.”
