Murder on the Marmora

by Conrad Allen

  “I agree,” said Dillman. “What are the precise details?”

  Pountney gave a faultness presentation. He had details of the scheme at his fingertips and was able to meet every question with a convincing answer. It was his persuasive manner that alerted Dillman. The man’s salesmanship was too smooth and well rehearsed. Pountney sensed his doubt.

  “Yes, I know,” he said. “It sounds too good to be true. If you wish to know more, I can show you the preliminary plans for the hotel and the forms relating to the share issue. Everything is in my cabin. Better still,” he continued, “if you still think I’m trying to pull the wool over your eyes, speak to Sir Alistair Longton.”

  “I just might do that, Mr. Pountney.”

  “He was even more skeptical than you, at the start.”

  “But he has committed himself?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Pountney. “I told him that he could reserve his judgment until he actually saw the site but he insisted on pressing money upon me there and then. So did other people. I’ve already tucked away hundreds of pounds in the purser’s safe.”

  Dillman was interested by the revelation. The money that Pountney had deposited had not been stolen from any of the passengers; they had willingly parted with it. Yet the detective still had lingering worries about Roland Pountney.

  “What’s the minimum investment?” he asked.

  “Fifty pounds, Mr. Dillman.”

  “And the maximum?”

  “I’d have to cap it at five hundred,” said Pountney with a laugh, “or people will want to have a bigger slice of the cake than me. We can’t have that, can we? Let’s face it. I saw this opportunity first. I should reap the major rewards.”

  Dillman chatted with him for a few more minutes until they were joined by some other friends of Pountney’s. The detective excused himself and headed for the door. On the way, he passed Genevieve Masefield, who was seated with Myra and Lilian Cathcart. By tugging at the cuffs of his shirt, Dillman signaled to Genevieve that he would meet her later in her cabin. He then went off toward the staircase.

  The talk with Pountney had given him plenty to occupy his mind and he was still sifting through their conversation when he reached the main deck. There was a clicking noise at the far end of a passageway, then a head emerged furtively to check that nobody was about. Dillman stepped quickly into an alcove so that he would not be seen. The door opened fully, then shut. Footsteps could be heard departing. Dillman peeped out in time to see a uniformed figure disappearing around the corner.

  It was Brian Kilhendry.

  Myra Cathcart had handled the whole thing well. Schooled by Genevieve, she had returned the photograph to Herr Lenz over dinner and told him that she resented the sly way in which it had been taken. Lilian supported her mother, pointing out that other passengers who had been tricked into facing his camera might well have lodged an official complaint with the purser. Lenz could do nothing but apologize. Realizing that his pursuit of Myra Cathcart was now doomed, he tried to make amends with excessive politeness. Genevieve did her best to engage him in conversation, preventing him from causing Myra any more discomfort and probing for more information about his background. Of the suspects she had discussed with Dillman, the German photographer seemed to her to be the most likely. From the derisive laugh he had given when she’d mentioned the name of Walter Dugdale, she could see that his envy went deep.

  When they adjourned to the lounge, Myra felt that she had finally shaken off the attentions of the brooding Lenz, and she thanked Genevieve for her advice. Lilian, too, felt that—among the three of them—they had put him to flight. Myra did not expect to have another meal in Lenz’s company. When Dillman walked past her, Genevieve talked with her friends for another ten minutes or so before excusing herself. She went swiftly back to her cabin and, once inside, removed her earrings and necklace before taking off her gloves.

  Genevieve was pleased that she had been able to help Myra Cathcart dispose of an unwanted suitor, especially as he might have been the person who killed his rival. She was still trying to weigh the evidence against Lenz when there was a tap on the door. Expecting Dillman, she opened it immediately but she stared into the glowering face of Nigel Wilmshurst instead. He pushed her back into the cabin and followed her.

  “Get out!” she demanded.

  “Not until we’ve had a talk,” he said, closing the door behind him. “Somebody has been telling tales to Araminta, haven’t they?”

  “Your wife forced her way in here as well. Does neither of you have any manners?”

  “What did you tell her, Jenny?”

  “That’s between the two of us.”

  “Not when it concerns me,” he warned, advancing slowly toward her. “Now, tell me. I want to know everything that was said.”

  “Then why don’t you ask your wife?”

  “I need to hear it from you.”

  Genevieve tried to push past him in order to reach the door but he grabbed her wrist and held it tight. Wilmshurst was smoldering. She started to become alarmed.

  “Let me go,” she cried. “You’re hurting my wrist.”

  “I’ll do more than that if you try to play games with me.” He forced her down into a chair before releasing his grip. “For the last time,” he said, “what did you tell her?”

  “I simply defended my name.”

  “What name?” he sneered. “You don’t have a name, Jenny. You have no position at all in English society. But I do, and I’ll fight tooth and nail to retain it. Your family were nonentities,” he said. “They made their money in trade. I was foolish even to get involved with someone like you, from the lower orders.”

  “I’d like you to go, Nigel,” she said calmly, “before this gets out of hand.”

  “It already is out of hand.”

  “I didn’t ask your wife to come here.”

  “Maybe not, but you didn’t turn her away, either.”

  “I made every effort to do so. I had no reason to cause her harm.”

  “No,” he said, looming over her. “I was the real target, wasn’t I? You probably couldn’t believe your luck. You finally had a chance to strike back at me.”

  “I’ve never had the slightest desire to do that.”

  “Well, that’s what you’ve done, whether you intended to or not. Araminta is in a terrible state. And all because of the poison that you poured into her ear.”

  “I told her nothing that was untrue, Nigel,” she said, trying hard to maintain her composure. “Unlike you, I didn’t willfully mislead her. You weren’t the person to break off our engagement—I was. And we both know why.”

  “Did you tell her?” he pressed. “Did you go into details?”

  “No. I didn’t need to do that.”

  “If I find out that you explained what—”

  “I explained nothing,” she said, interrupting him. “Beyond the fact that you were the guilty party and not me. But it’s only a matter of time before she finds out your little secret, Nigel. I hope, for her sake, that she doesn’t do so in the way I did.”

  “Be quiet!”

  “No woman wants to share her husband with other men.”

  “I told you to be quiet!” he howled, threatening to strike her. Genevieve put up her hands to protect herself. “Well, you must be so pleased with yourself,” he taunted. “You’ve hit back at me and wounded Araminta in the bargain. I always took you for a person of discretion but you’ve obviously coarsened since I last saw you.”

  “There’s no need to insult me, Nigel.”

  “I’m the one who’s been insulted—by you!”

  “Yes, I suppose that the truth is pretty insulting. No wonder your wife looks at you through new eyes. She can’t trust you any longer, Nigel. You told her a pack of lies.”

  “We were very happy until you came along.”

  “And so was I,” she said.

  “Who cares about your happiness?”

  “I do, Nigel.”

  “Well, I don�
��t,” he said with contempt. “And I’m not going to let you do this to me. For heaven’s sake, I’m supposed to be on my honeymoon.”

  “You conveniently forgot that when you started harassing me.”

  “I did nothing of the kind.”

  “You sought me out, Nigel. Admit it,” she challenged. “So did your wife. I had no reason to get near either of you. If there’s friction between you—as is obviously the case—then you brought it on yourself. Don’t try to blame me.”

  “But you’re the one who stuck the knife into me, Jenny.”

  “Only after you’d stabbed me in the back. How do you think it feels to be accused like that by your wife? She looked at me as if I were some kind of harlot. And all because you told her that I’d been unfaithful to you. That was cruel of you, Nigel,” she said. “It was cruel, hurtful, and unjust.”

  “What about the things you told Araminta?”

  “She forced them out of me.”

  “Well, I’m going to force them back into you,” he promised, grabbing her by the arms to haul her upright. He shook her hard. “You can begin by apologizing to me,” he insisted. “Then you can come and say how sorry you are to Araminta for misleading her. You can explain that what you told her was a pack of lies.”

  “But it wasn’t.”

  “Don’t argue with me!”

  “Let go, Nigel,” she said, struggling to break free. “Let go of me.”

  “Promise that you’ll do what I say, first.”

  “Never!”

  “Promise!” he ordered, slapping her across the face.

  The shock of being hit was far worse than the pain. It took Genevieve a moment to realize what had happened. When she did, she fought hard to push him away. But he was far too strong for her. Crazed by anger and stung by his wife’s rejection of him, Wilmshurst would not be denied. He wrestled with Genevieve until the two of them fell to the floor and rolled across the carpet. He pinned her to the ground and put his face an inch from hers. She could see the mingled hate and disgust in his eyes. What frightened her was a strange glint as lust stirred. Lying on top of her, Wilmshurst had her at his mercy. Genevieve put all her energy into an attempt to force him off.

  “No!” she shouted. “Leave me alone, Nigel. Get off!”

  SIXTEEN

  When he walked along the passageway, Dillman first made sure that he was unobserved before he approached her cabin. He gave a sharp tap on the door and expected a fairly quick response. Instead, there was a protracted silence. Convinced that Genevieve was inside, he put his ear to the door and heard muffled sounds. It was almost as if someone were drumming their heels on the floor. Dillman then heard a man’s voice, yelling in pain, followed by the sound of a scream from Genevieve. He did not hesitate. Putting his shoulder against the door, he gave a concerted shove. The lock rattled. When he heard further noises of a struggle from within, Dillman took a step back before hurling himself at the door with full force. This time, the lock gave way and the door burst open.

  The scene that confronted him made Dillman blink in astonishment. Sitting astride her, Nigel Wilmshurst was holding Genevieve down with one hand while using the other to muzzle her. She was resisting fiercely but unable to escape. Spurred into action, Dillman was on the attacker in an instant, grabbing him by the shoulders to drag him off her, then hauling him to his feet so that he could pound him with a relay of punches. Wilmshurst tried to defend himself but he was no match for the detective. Having drawn blood and subdued him, Dillman helped Genevieve up from the floor and across to the chair. She was badly shaken.

  Wilmshurst saw an opportunity to slink away but Dillman was too quick for him, reaching the door first and closing it before standing with his back to it. He had to control the urge to pummel Wilmshurst even more. Blood dribbling from his nose, the other man tried to summon up a note of authority.

  “Who the hell are you?” he demanded, using a handkerchief to stem the flow of blood. “And what do you mean by barging in here like that?”

  “My name is George Dillman and I’m a ship’s detective.”

  “That doesn’t give you the right to attack me.”

  “It gives me every right,” said Dillman, putting a hand on his arm. “I’m placing you under arrest, sir. You’ll have to come with me.”

  “Arrest?” echoed Wilmshurst in disbelief. “On what charges?”

  “Assault, for a start. Did you invite this man into your cabin, Miss Masefield?”

  “No,” she said, still panting from her ordeal.

  “Then he must have forced his way in here. That’s a second charge.”

  “Get your hand off me,” said Wilmshurst, trying in vain to brush him away. “Have you any idea who I am?”

  “Yes, Mr. Wilmshurst,” said Dillman, tightening his grip. “You’re someone who’s in a great deal of trouble. I’m just hoping that you’ll resist arrest so that I’ll have an excuse to finish what I just started. Don’t tempt me, sir.”

  “The captain will hear about this.”

  “He certainly will, Mr. Wilmshurst. He’s a stickler when it comes to behavior aboard his vessel. He’ll not condone what I just saw.” He turned to Genevieve. “How are you feeling now?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, rubbing a bruised arm. “Thank goodness you came.”

  “I heard someone yell.”

  “He had his hand over my mouth. I bit it.”

  “Look,” said Wilmshurst, realizing the difficulty of his position and trying to ease the situation, “there’s no need to take all this so seriously. Jenny and I are old friends. We were just indulging in a little horseplay, weren’t we, Jenny?”

  “No, Nigel. That was not horseplay.”

  “Tell this fellow that you’ve no intention of pressing charges.”

  “But I have,” she affirmed. “Believe me.”

  “Let’s go, Mr. Wilmshurst,” said Dillman.

  “Wait. You’ve got hold of the wrong end of the stick. All right,” said Wilmshurst, adopting a conciliatory tone, “I did get carried away, I confess that freely. We dined with the Duke and Duchess this evening and the wine was rather heady. I obviously had too much. I’m sorry, Jenny, I really am. I swear it. Let’s forget the whole thing, shall we?” he suggested. “For the sake of old times.”

  “No,” she said. “What you did was unforgivable.”

  “That’s the view I take,” said Dillman.

  “Who asked for your opinion?” snapped Wilmshurst.

  “I’m a witness, sir. I know what I saw.”

  “This is between Jenny and me.”

  Genevieve turned away in disgust. “I never want to see you again.”

  “It was all a dreadful misunderstanding.”

  “Yes,” agreed Dillman. “You misunderstood the basic courtesies. Men are not supposed to force their way into a lady’s cabin in order to attack her. It’s considered impolite. Now,” he said, “are you going to come quietly or do I have to drag you out?”

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “To the master-at-arms. You’ll spend the night in a cell.”

  “That’s monstrous!”

  “So was your assault on Miss Masefield.”

  “Jenny,” he pleaded. “You can’t let this happen to me. I can’t be locked up.”

  “It’s the best place for you, Nigel,” she said.

  “What about my wife?”

  “What about her?” said Dillman.

  “She’ll be expecting me.”

  “She may be expecting a husband, sir, but I doubt if she’d welcome back a man who’s just committed the offenses that you did. Out we go,” said Dillman, twisting Wilmshurst’s arm behind his back. He turned to Genevieve. “I’ll be back as soon as I’ve put him where he belongs. Come on, sir.”

  Protesting wildly, Wilmshurst was forced out of the cabin without ceremony.

  Brian Kilhendry was astounded. He could not believe what his deputy had just told him. The two men were in the purser’s cabin later that ni
ght. The atmosphere was heated.

  “Mr. Dillman arrested him?” he said.

  “Yes, Brian. Mr. Wilmshurst is cooling his heels in one of our cells.”

  “Does Mr. Dillman realize who Mr. Wilmshurst is?”

  “I think that he knows only too well,” said Martin Grandage.

  “His father is Lord Wilmshurst.”

  “Mr. Dillman doesn’t care if his father is the emperor of China. He put Mr. Wilmshurst under arrest and, from what I heard, had every reason to do so. I applaud what he did.”

  “Well, I don’t, Martin. There’ll be repercussions.”

  “Our duty is to support the ship’s detective.”

  “Ordinarily, I’d agree,” said Kilhendry, “but this is a special case. Mr. Wilmshurst is very well connected. He and his wife dined with the royal party last night.”

  “I’m well aware of that. I was the one who had to keep our chefs from trying to lynch Monsieur Vivet. He prepared a meal for six people but, when we got to the cabin, Mr. and Mrs. Wilmshurst had left.” He gave a shrug. “They could at least have stayed long enough to compliment the chef. Monsieur Vivet was put-out.”

  “I’m put-out as well, Martin. This business is very worrying. We need an extremely good reason before we put anyone under lock and key.”

  “Mr. Dillman had a good reason,” said Grandage.

  “I disagree.”

  “He attacked Miss Masefield. Do you condone assaults on our staff?”

  “Of course not. But then, Mr. Wilmshurst probably doesn’t know that she’s employed by P and O. He believes she’s just another passenger. From what you tell me, they’re old friends.”

  “They were engaged to be married at one stage.”

  “There you are, then,” said the purser. “This is a domestic dispute that shouldn’t involve us at all. Mr. Dillman exceeded his authority. He should have released Mr. Wilmshurst with a warning and let him return to his own cabin.”