I looked at him. I daresay he thought I was a little dazed. I fancy I shook my head; for this was as bad as my worst suspicions could have suggested it. In that moment, I was thinking far less of the “trap” the Customs had prepared so carefully for me, than of the completeness of the ruin of my faith in women in general.
“Mr. Graham,” I said, “a man’s a preposterous ass if he hasn’t learnt to mistrust any woman, by the time he’s thirty!”
“Yes, Sir,” he answered, seriously enough. “Unless she’s his mother.”
“Ah, just so!” I said. “Unless she’s his mother. But they can’t all be our mothers; confound it! I’ll get up to my chart-room. No, don’t come, Mr. Graham. It’s too late now to undo what’s been done. . . . The treachery of it! My God! The cold, brutish treachery of it!”
I reached the chart-room, and peeped in through the after window. The Customs were already in the place; four men were in there. And suddenly I heard Miss Malbrey’s voice. I could see her now, over by the starboard side, with her back to me. She was directing operations, as cold-bloodedly as you please. Evidently, they had sent for her, now they had lost her note, to explain how to work the secret catches in the steel beam.
“No,” I heard her say. “The seventh bolt from the starboard side. Twist it to the left. That’s right. Yes. The second from the port side— To the right. Now, Mace, the twenty-fourth from the starboard and twenty-ninth from the port. Do get a move on you. I don’t want the Captain to catch me here. Pull—”
I opened the door and stepped inside.
“Sorry if I’m a little premature, Miss Malbrey,” I said, “May I ask what you are doing in my chart-room?”
I held the door open for her to pass out. But she took no notice of me; only the cheek and ear that I could see were a burning red. I was grimly pleased that she felt some sort of shame for herself.
“I must ask you to leave my chart-room, Miss Malbrey,” I said quietly. “This part of the ship is not open to passengers.”
“Aw! Quit it, Cap’n!” said the man she had called Mace, who was standing on my chart-table, lugging clumsily at the bolt-heads. “We’ve got you at last, I guess, Cap’n; an’ you don’t come any of that tall stuff over us. . . . Is these two the right ones, Miss?” he finished, looking over his shoulder at Miss Malbrey.
“Yes,” she said, not much above a whisper. “Pull out parallel with the deck, evenly—”
“It’s coming,” said the man. “We sha’n’t be long now, Cap’n, before we has you just where we been wantin’ you this two years, an’ more!”
I said nothing; but walked across to my telephone, and rang up the Chief Stewardess.
“Please come up to my chart-room at once, Miss Allan,” I said. “Bring a couple of stewardesses with you.”
I hung up the receiver, just as the man on the table worked the sliding portion of the flange clear of its sockets. He put up his forefinger, and ran it along the recess in the deck-planking above, which he had laid bare. He was obviously disappointed, and made it clear to every one.
“Aw!” he said. “Watcher givin’ us, Miss! This is sure a bum do! There’s nothin’! Just plain nothin’ at all!”
“Stop talking foolish!” said Miss Malbrey, in a voice sharp enough to show the kind of metal she was. She made one jump to a chair, and then onto my chart-table. She pushed the man named Mace to one side….
“It’s gone!” she called out, suddenly, a moment later, in a voice that was half a scream. “It was there! A proper runner’s garter. There were five thousand dollars’ worth of stones!”
She whirled round on me.
“You wicked man!” she called out, in a thorough little fury. “You thief! You thief! What have you done with my stones….”
“‘Ssh!” said one of the other search officers. “There’s someone coming. They’re the Captain’s good we are looking for, Miss. Don’t you worry yourself, and talk rash. You mind how you saw Cap’n Gault hide some di’monds; an’ you done your duty, like a proper citizen, an’ told us.”
In a way it was almost laughable, if it had not been for the way this pretty little woman was showing the poor, bad stuff she was built of. It was plain enough to me that the man was prompting her, and trying to steady her down to normal control again, before she gave away more completely the plot they had made to trap me.
But he could not quiet Miss Alicia Malbrey, disgruntled feminine Treasury spy, in that moment of complete failure of all her hours and days of treacherous planning. And then, in the midst of her wild storming at me, as she stood there on the table, the chart-room door opened, and in came the Chief Stewardess, with two strapping looking stewardesses behind her.
“Ah, Miss Allan,” I said, “perhaps you would kindly see Miss Malbrey to the passengers’ part of the ship. I’ve tried to explain to her that she is intruding here; but I find that she does not quite comprehend.”
“Aw! Quit the tall talk, Cap’n!” growled the man called Mace, in an ugly sort of way. “An’ you other leddies, let the young leddy be. It’s just more’n you dare do, Cap’n, to shove in between our lot, an’ what we got to do!”
“Indeed,” I said, as gently as a father. “Am I to understand that Miss Malbrey is a Treasury official?”
The man, Mace, hesitated and turned red. He had evidently let his tongue off on the gallop, ahead of instructions. While he paused, just that one moment, one of the other search officers chipped in.
“Go ahead, Cap’n,” he said. “You gotter do what you think proper. Only don’t try interferin’ with us men. I guess the young lady’s not one of ours.”
He gave Mace a nudge to keep quiet, and I saw that Miss Malbrey was not to “come out into the open” as a full-blown Treasury spy; for then her value, as such, would be enormously lowered. In other vessels, she is evidently to continue her unpleasing profession.
I smiled, with a good deal of bitterness in my heart. Then I nodded to the Chief Stewardess, who went up to Miss Malbrey.
“Come now, Madam,” she said quietly. “Let me help you down.” Then in a lower voice, I heard her say: “Don’t make a scene, Miss Malbrey, for your own sake. Come now, be a wise young lady. You shall come to my own cabin, and tell me all about it.”
I smiled again; this time at the genuine humour of the thing. The Chief Stewardess’s tact seemed blended with a more than a possible curiosity; but I certainly admired the tact—the result of years of the tradition that “scenes” and passengers must be kept out of sight of each other.
Miss Alicia Malbrey went quietly enough. It seemed incredible that I had held her in my arms within the last twenty-four hours, and that she had kissed me freely, and apparently with some pleasure in the process. I began to doubt the sex of Judas!
As she went past me, I had a strong impression that she would never tell the real facts to the Chief Stewardess, or any one else, for that matter. Even such women as Miss Alicia Malbrey have a way of preferring that people should not credit them in full with the treachery that ripples so naturally and smoothly through their systems.
And, fortunately for me, it had all led to nothing; for kind Nature has blessed me with a certain caution and foresight, and an ability to abide by some of the teachings of Commonsense and Experience. One of these teachings is: Never use two heads to keep one secret! The hiding-place above the beam is one I have long since given up; and I removed the “garter” of stones within half an hour of putting it there; and later, I placed it in another, and even more cutely conceived hiding-place, where it lies at this present moment.
January 27.
By methods of my own, I discovered the address of Miss Alicia Malbrey. And I took a taxi there this morning to have an interview with her, which pride, prejudice, and a number of other things demanded.
I was shown into a pretty sitting-room, and told that Miss Malbrey (though that was not the name given!) would see me in a few minutes.
When, at last, she came in, she stopped in the doorway. She was carry
ing her pet dog; and she looked pale, and, I could almost have imagined, a little frightened.
“What—what do you want, Captain Gault?” she asked, in a low voice.
“Won’t you sit down, Miss Malbrey,” I said. “You must not feel worried. I am not here to bully you.”
“I—I’m not afraid of you, Captain Gault!” she said, with a little nervous hesitation.
She came across the room, and sank into a small chair.
“What is it you want of me?” she asked again. She was still white and nervous.
“I’ve come to return you some property of yours, or the government’s,” I said.
And, with the word, I stooped forward over her, and unbucked Toby’s collar. Taking it by the end, I tore it open lengthways.
“Hold your hand,” I said; and I poured a little cascade of diamonds into her palms.
“Oh!” she cried out; and stared at me with very wide opened eyes.
“Do you remember that last day aboard, when you missed Toby’s collar?” I said. “Well, I had borrowed it from the little brute. The Chief Steward gave it to you back, later. He told you it had been found on the saloon floor. Well, while I had the collar, I ‘loaded’ it with your stones. I was practically sure, by then, that you were a Treasury spy; but I kept hoping against hope that you would find it impossible to ‘sell’ me, when it came to the point. I felt that your womanhood would make that impossible to you. We men have some queer, silly notions, haven’t we? No, I’m not going to bully you. I promised you that. Besides, it’s not my way.”
She had gone a deep burning red of shame. Then the red sank out of her face; and she was whiter than ever.
“But,” she said, in a very low voice, staring at me strangely, “if you knew what I was, Captain, why did you do this? Why didn’t you keep these stones, as—as spoils of war?” she held out her hand, and stared from me to the diamonds.
“They were not mine,” I said. “And I smuggled them ashore for you, just to keep my promise to you—a sort of joke. You see, as I was practically sure you were a Treasury spy, I knew your dog would not be a likely ‘suspect.’ It is one of my little prides, that I always keep a promise.”
“What a strange, strange man you are!” she said, almost under her breath.
I stood up.
“I’ll say good-bye now,” I said.
At the door, I heard her cry out something in a low, queer voice; but I never looked back. Faith dies hard with me; but it stays dead, when it does die.
In the street, I got into my taxi and drove off. In my hand I still held the ripped-up dog’s collar. I rattled the two brass bells and smiled. Then I unscrewed each of the bells, and took out the pea from each. They were big peas, covered with a celluloid skin. I peeled off the skins, and there I held in my hand two magnificent ten-thousand-dollar apiece pearls.
You see, I had made one stone kill two birds, or rather one dog collar carry two lots of smuggled jewelry.
Rather neat, I call it. Look at it every way you like, it was neat—eh?
My Lady’s Jewels
London City,
March 4.
Women have a great trick of asking me to help them through the Customs with their jewellery.
I’ve said “Yes” once or twice, and not always had occasion to regret it. You see, there are women who are more honest than you’d think a woman could be, considering just what a woman is.
I make it a general rule, though, to say “No” to these requests, for it’s bad policy to mix up business and pleasure; and I’ve no use for a woman when it comes to sharing a secret with her. She’s so apt to be a bit mixed in her ideas of fair-play.
It’s all rot to say a woman can’t keep a secret. She can! She could keep a secret till Old Nick gurned grey, begging for it, if it suited her. But that’s just the trouble! You never know when it’s going to stop suiting her to keep mum. If she gets the notion there’s more cash for her to talk, than in keeping quiet, she’ll pull the lid off and let the secret pop out, regardless of the hole you may get shoved into as a result.
Anyway, I can’t help making friends occasionally on the trip across. And there’s a Mrs. Ernley, a pretty young widow, American, with heaps of dollars, who’s shown a friendly side to me since the first day out.
I spotted her the moment she came aboard, and I gave the Chief Steward word to put her at my table. There are always little compensations, like that, to make up for the long hours, short pay, and big responsibilities of a sea-Captain’s life!
We got on splendidly; and as she had no one to look after her, I have done my best ever since.
She was up with me on the lower bridge today, helping me “keep the watch,” she called it; though it’s not much watch I can keep when she’s looking up at me, and saying things, of an “Americanness” beyond belief, and of an artlessness that ought to be beyond propriety, but somehow isn’t.
“I’ve bought a heap of stuff in London and Paris,” she told me; “and I’m afraid the New York Customs will sure have it in savage for me, Captain Gault.”
“I’m afraid so,” I said.
I was truly afraid; for that’s the way a lot of them lead up to asking me to help them hide the stuff somewhere in the ship, so as to get it safely past the Customs searchers.
“It’s a mighty wicked tax,” she said. “I wish we women had the vote, we’d alter things. I s’pose you don’t think a woman’s fit to vote, Captain. But let me tell you, she’s a heap fitter than half the men.”
“I’m not against the vote,” I said, “under conditions that are fair to the men.”
“What’s fair to one is fair to the other!” she said.
“That’s a bit vague,” I told her. “The suffrage is largely the modern equivalent of physical force. Women have less of it by nature, than men, and consequently there is a certain artificiality in the situation of a woman voting on equal terms with a man; for it implies that she is physically the equal of the man.”
“Might’s not right!” she said, warmly. “A clever woman has more brains than a labourer. Yet you give him the vote!”
“Exactly!” I said, smiling a little at her feminine method of meeting my distinctly masculine argument. “The labouring man has the vote, when you haven’t it, because the vote is the modern equivalent of physical strength. Nowadays, when a man wants a thing, he votes for it, instead of fighting for it. In the old days, he fought for it, and would today, if his vote were outvoted by a lot of people who were physically midgets. The vote is might as well as right. All the same, ethically, the very cows in the field have a right to vote. I wonder how they’d vote on a pure butter question, and the vealing of their calves!”
“I’m not interested one bit about cows having the vote,” she said; “but I tell you, Captain, when we women get the vote, we’ll wipe this wicked tax on women’s jewellery, and pretty things, clean off the slate! If things go on like this, only very rich women will be able to dress at all.”
“I hadn’t thought of it in that light,” I said. “How shocking! There’s still always the cheaper sorts of dress stuffs—plain cotton prints look quite pretty. No need really, you know, to allow this man-made tax to achieve its abominable end—”
“Captain,” she interrupted, suddenly, “will you do something for me?”
I knew then that I could not delay the fatal moment any longer. She was going to ask me to risk liberty and profession for the sake of her pocket. And being a man, what chance had I?
“Captain Gault,” she said, “I bought something enormously expensive when I was in Paris.”
“Yes,” I asked, rather hopelessly, “was it a necklace or a tiara?”
“Look!” she said, and opened her handbag.
“What did you pay for that?” I asked. “You ought to have it locked up in the strong room. For goodness’ sake, don’t let anyone aboard know that you’ve got a thing like that with you. A sea-Captain’s responsibilities are bad enough, without adding to them gratuitously. Do shu
t the bag, please, and take it to the strong room! It’ll be much safer there.”
“I paid nearly a million dollars for it,” she said, looking up at me, “and I guess that’s as much as I’m going to pay. I’m going to smuggle it through the Customs. I’m not going to pay a cent of their horrible wicked tax.”
“Mrs. Ernley,” I said, “it’s evident you don’t know much about the U.S.A. Customs people. Let me tell you, dear lady, they’re smart; and the chances are they know at the present moment that you’ve bought this neckace, and what you have paid for it.”
“No,” she said, “they don’t just know anything at all about it, Captain. I made up my mind that I wouldn’t pay the tax. Why, it would be about six hundred thousand dollars on this one necklace! It’s just robbery! And so I made arrangements secretly through a friend, with Monsieur Jervoyn, the jeweller, to meet me at her house, and I bought this lovely thing there, and paid for it in cash. So you see, they can’t know!”
“My dear Mrs. Ernley,” I remonstrated, “never be sure of anything where the U.S.A. Customs are concerned, except that they’re on the job all the time. Americans are like that, as you know. If they go in for graft, they do the thing properly; and if they go in for doing their duty, they do it properly likewise, in about forty different ways at one and the same time. That’s the way they’re built. They’ve got to be efficient per pound whatever else they are or are not. And you can bet on this, when the Customs come aboard in New York, they’ll know you’ve got this, and they’ll know the name of the man you got it from; and they’ll be able to make a shot at what you paid for it.”
She shook her head, obstinately. It’s a confoundedly pretty little head, and I don’t mind whether she shakes it or just nods. It looks nice any way.
“I’m sure they don’t know!” she asserted. “I was far, far too careful. I was, now, Captain; and I bet my last dollar they don’t even dream I’ve bought anything much. Not for all their secret agents and things. Oh, I know more of their ways than you think, Captain Gault! I’ve heard some of my relations talk; and they’re in the Treasury, and I know I’m up against something; but I guess I’ll get the thing through all right, if you’ll help me. You see, I’ve got it all plotted out, as clever as you like. I’ve got a proper plan. Will you help me, Captain? Oh, I don’t mean that you’re to risk things for nothing. I wouldn’t have that! I’ll pay you a percentage if you will help me. . . . A percentage on what I paid for it, will you, now?”
Boats of the Glen Carrig and Other Nautical Adventures Page 44
