Page images
PDF
EPUB

enough, too, though it might said the doctor when the visitor easily have happened." had departed. "It is as plain as daylight to me."

"A complete mystery," said Mr Peabody, going to the door. "Thank you very much for telling me all about it."

[blocks in formation]

'Yes, it seems to be," answered the purser. "But still

it is funny about the ring and the finger."

CHAPTER VI.-MR PEABODY TAKES A BATH.

[merged small][ocr errors][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][ocr errors][merged small]

"Good-morning," replied Mr Peabody. "I want some tea, please."

"Very good, sir," answered the steward, and went out. "And, steward," called Mr Peabody after him.

"Sir," answered that worthy, popping his head round the door.

"Bring me my shaving water in about twenty minutes, and I will want a bath at nine o'clock. By the way, what's the latest time I can have breakfast ? "

"Ten o'clock, sir; very good, sir; I'll tell the bath steward," said the other, and departed, hooking the door behind him.

In a few minutes he returned with a cup of tea and some biscuits. Mr Peabody propped himself up with his pillows, and refreshed himself in great comfort, pondering the while on the events of yesterday. Of course, the ship's officers were right, and he and young Costello were making a mountain out of a molehill. How could the lady have been murdered and have had her finger cut off and been thrown overboard without any one seeing it done or finding a trace of her afterwards? And who could have murdered her? There was always a motive, he reflected. Of course, it was absurd-and yet the young doctor had seemed so positive; Wonderful thing medical science; think of being able to say whether a finger was cut off before or after death! But then, the question of the distance. The Fastnet must be nearly a hundred miles from Cork Harbour. No sea-gull would carry a finger that distance. A fish might possibly swim it with a ring inside, but even that seemed improbable. Perhaps the ring fell off near Cork Harbour, after all. But

then, what about the finger? fortable method in vogue at That might have come from the time of her designing. another ship. How many ships passed Cork that morning? Dozens probably. Oh, the thing was a complete puzzle.

At this point the steward arrived with a jug of hot water. "The bath-steward is very sorry, sir," he announced, "but all the baths are taken at nine o'clock. There aren't many passengers aboard, but this is an old ship, and she has not got many baths, and all the gentlemen want them at the same time."

"That's a nuisance," said Mr Peabody. "I must have a bath."

The steward scented the possibility of a tip. "There's a bathroom in the next alleyway that isn't being used this trip as we are so empty," he said. "I'll see if I can get the key."

"Yes, try; that will be splendid," said Mr Peabody. "I'll be ready in about ten minutes."

By the time he had finished shaving, the steward returned with the news that it was all right; he had got the key, and the bath was ready.

66

66

The bathroom in which Mr Peabody was presently luxuriating was an outside one situated on the port side of the main deck. Through the porthole he had a glimpse of a dull grey sea and a leaden sky. He tested the temperature of the water with his hand. Confound that steward, he had not put half enough hot in it! Mr Peabody liked his bath to be very hot-so hot that he had to sit down with extreme care at first. He turned on the tap labelled "HOT." Instantly the bathroom was filled with a cloud of steam. Good," thought Mr Peabody, and circulated the water vigorously with his hand. Soon it was hot enough for his luxurious taste. He divested himself of his pyjamas. As he was in the act of stepping into the bath he noticed that the atmosphere was still laden with steam. "Damn it, I'll have to open the port," he thought. The screws were firmly fastened, but he started them with an effort, swung the heavy glass open, and fixed it up to its hook. The vapour streamed out rapidly. Mr Peabody stuck his head out into the fresh air, and was surprised to find that he was only about ten feet above the water. He withdrew with a shiver, for the morning was chill.

Good man," said Mr Pea- out body, and followed him.

The Casabianca was, as the steward had said, an old ship, and her bathrooms, instead of being arranged in groups where one steward could attend to the requirements of many passengers, were scattered here and there among the cabins in the inconvenient but com

As he lay in the hot salt water-so hot that every movement gave him delicious agony -he meditated on the problem

[merged small][ocr errors]

"Confound it, didn't like it, perhaps on account of that very same lack of ventilation, and had always used one of the other bathrooms, and the bath steward never got it ready unless he could help it, for it was a long carry for the fresh water. He was very sorry the gentleman had been inconvenienced.

there should be some way of getting the steam out except through the port," he thought. "In rough weather you couldn't have the beastly thing open." His eye roamed over the walls. There usually was some sort of iron lattice-work ventilator over the door frame, wasn't there? Yes, there was the place where it should be, but it seemed to be blocked up with brown paper."

The

He completed his ablutions and dried himself. Standing on tip-toe he investigated the puzzle. Yes, there was a line of lattice-work ventilator the whole length of the wall over the door, but it was all blocked up with heavy paper-that kind of thick paper used by some stationers in wrapping up books, brown on the outside and black on the inside. black side was against the lattice-work and the brown was facing into the room. The paper was cut in short strips SO as to fit the ventilator exactly, and must have been carefully applied. Mr Peabody was puzzled he rang for the steward. That gentleman was completely at a loss. He was sure he couldn't say, sir, what they were there for. The ship had been reconditioned before her outward trip, and it must have been something the painters put there, he supposed. The bathroom had not been used at all, he fancied, not as he knew of, anyhow, for the gentleman who had the cabin opposite on the last voyage

He removed the strips of paper and flung them out of the porthole. Mr Peabody dressed and went to his breakfast.

The Casabianca was due to dock at Liverpool at four o'clock that afternoon, and consequently the ship's officials were too busy with their multifarious duties to give much attention to Mr Peabody's efforts to obtain some information about the personal characteristics of Mr John Northbrook and his unfortunate wife.

The former seemed, on the whole, to have created a very favourable impression on the ship's company, and the smoking-room steward, who proved to be the best source of intelligence, was loud in his praise as a liberal-handed gentleman. Medium height, heavy dark moustache, dark hair tinged with grey, bronzed face, colour of eyes doubtful, figure spare and upright, such was the description which he gave. Did he drink much? No, not to any extent. Didn't seem to care much for anything after the loss of the poor lady. Only thing that seemed to interest him was the daily sweep on the run. He always

had several tickets on it. Never were her ladies ringing for won anything, though-very her, and she would have to unlucky gentleman. go-and thank you kindly, sir.

[ocr errors]

As for the lady, Mr Peabody did not seem able to find any one who could describe her. They all pleaded that the first day out you did not distinguish passengers from each other, until at length he ran to earth her cabin stewardess. This excellent woman was much preoccupied with the baggage problems of a party of four ladies from Minneapolis, but she desisted from her labours for a few minutes to answer Mr Peabody's questions. "Did she remember Mrs Northbrook ? Sure she did. Brought her lunch and dinner in her cabin on the day she sailed-the last food the poor lady ever had; not that she ate much either, just a little grape fruit for lunch and a small bit of chicken and salad for dinner. She was a bad sailor, she said. "What was she like?" Oh, a nice sort of a lady, older than her husband a bit, not much to look at, though very well dressed. Didn't see very much of her, because her husband was round all the time. He did all her unpacking as well as his own. Very thoughtful for her he was. A nice gentle

[blocks in formation]

So absorbed had he been in his pursuit of personalities that it was not until the ship was actually going alongside the dock that Mr Peabody realised that he had not even viewed the cabin from which Mrs Northbrook had walked to her death.

Cursing himself for a fool, he ran below, and amid the confusion of departing passengers had great difficulty in finding the stewardess again. She had not yet landed her ladies, and it was with a doubtful backward glance at their pile of luggage that she led the way to a cabin on the port side of the main deck, and pointed it out to her questioner.

"It is locked up, sir," she said. "Hasn't been used this trip, we being so empty." With that she left him, and returned to her prey.

Mr Peabody glanced round him. The alleyway seemed familiar. He tried the handle of the door. It was locked. Facing round, he tried the, door on the opposite side of the passage. It opened, and he

glanced inside. It was the bathroom which he had occupied that morning. He gave an involuntary shiver as he closed the door and turned away. "Some one is walking over my grave," he said to himself.

CHAPTER VII.-INSPECTOR THESIGER LAYS A WAGER.

When Mr Peabody reached his comfortable chambers overlooking Victoria Street, he found waiting for him among the letters which had arrived during his absence an invitation to spend the week-end with some friends in Wales.

The writer stated that the prospects of woodcock-shooting were good, and that there were still a fair number of his pheasants unaccounted for. The opportunity seemed too good to be missed, and Mr Peabody, feeling that his exertions of the preceding ten days had merited some relaxation, accepted by telegram and left for Newport on the following morning.

The sport proved to be even better than he had anticipated. He found that his form at both woodcock and pheasants was excellent, and his hosts being pressing, he allowed his visit to extend far beyond his original limits. An abortive love affair with a young lady in the neighbourhood (Mr Peabody was always falling in and out of love) caused a further delay, and what with one thing and another it was not until well into the month of November that he attempted to resume his abandoned literary enterprise.

When, however, he began to reduce the edifice of the story, which he had built in his mind, to writing, he found with dismay how very unfavourably it

compared with the realities of the case. The more he pondered on his imaginary happenings, the more he realised that the solution of the actual problem of the ring and the finger would give him much greater satisfaction than the unravelling of any synthetic conundrum which he could devise.

Faced with this quandary, he decided that he would appeal once more to his friend, Inspector Thesiger. He had been very kindly received when he visited Scotland Yard early in October, and being unwilling to trespass further on the goodnature of busy men, he wrote a note to the inspector and asked him to dine with him at his flat on any convenient evening, and hear the results of his investigations into the matter of the finger.

He had never pictured officials of the police force in the social capacity of diners out, except in the course of their official duties; but his short acquaintance with Inspector Thesiger had led him to believe that even detectives must be human enough to dine.

The upshot proved that he had not been mistaken. Mr Thesiger, off duty, proved to be a very genial guest with an educated palate and a good nose for a cigar. Avoiding professional topics, he discoursed learnedly on matters connected with the Turf, re

« PreviousContinue »