“But why should I do this?” Zaria asked, almost piteously.
“Because I’m begging you to do it,” the American replied. “I have to get to Algiers. I have to be with my mother. She’s ill. My stepfather is a brute and is treating her badly. I have to get there, I tell you, before it’s too late.”
He spoke so earnestly that Zaria almost felt the tears rising in her eyes. Her impulse was to agree at once. Here was someone in trouble, here was someone appealing for her help with a sincerity that rang absolutely true.
Then she tried to clutch at her common sense.
“Listen,” she said. “I have never met Mr. Virdon. He is employing me through some Solicitors in London. Supposing he says that he will not allow me an assistant? Supposing he is angry at my presuming to suggest such a thing?”
“I don’t think he will be,” the American said firmly. “Please do exactly what I say and I promise you that it will be all right.”
“But – but why – should I?” Zaria protested.
“Because I know you have got a kind heart, because this means more to me than I can ever tell you, because you, at any rate, have nothing to lose by doing a generous action.”
That was true enough, Zaria thought. She really had nothing to lose. If the worst came to the worst, she could just say that it was her yacht. She knew that she would be much too afraid to say anything of the sort, but it was a comforting thought to realise that she could actually do so.
As if the American sensed her hesitation, he said,
“I have thought of a plan, if only you will agree to it. When you receive the Captain’s summons to say that the ship is here, I want you to drive down to the docks with me. We will go aboard and I want you to introduce me as your fiancé.”
“My fiancé!”
Zaria echoed the words with wide eyes.
“Yes. You can explain that we have only just been engaged and therefore you didn’t want to leave me behind while you went off to Africa as Mr. Virdon’s employee.”
It did sound plausible as he put it, Zaria thought. And after all that was just what the real Doris Brown had done, become engaged, only she had chucked Mr. Virdon because of it.
“But – I don’t even know – your name,” she said a little helplessly.
“No, of course you don’t. You must call me – Chuck. It’s what my friends in college used to call me. My other name, by the way, is Tanner – Chuck Tanner. And incidentally I do speak a little Arabic and I do know a little about archaeology.”
“Well, that’s something, at any rate,” Zaria said.
But still she hesitated, and then, very shyly, the colour turning her cheeks suddenly crimson, she said,
“Would you – would you mind very much taking off your glasses?”
He did as she asked without comment and then, as a pair of deep grey eyes looked into hers, he asked,
“Why?”
“I-I just wanted to see what you looked like without them,” Zaria answered, telling only half the truth because she was too embarrassed to say that she had always believed that a man or woman could be judged by their eyes.
His were honest eyes, steady and somehow, although she could not explain it to herself, absolutely trustworthy.
“Thank you,” she said after a moment and then looked away because she was embarrassed.
He put his glasses on again.
“I have to wear these,” he said. “I get blinding headaches if I don’t and I’m also a sufferer from hay fever.”
The telephone by the bed shrilled suddenly making them both jump.
“That will be from the ship,” Chuck Tanner said quickly. “Don’t say anything about me. Just say you will come down right away.”
Zaria walked hesitantly towards the telephone.
And then, as she picked up the receiver, an English voice with a decided Cockney accent asked,
“Be that Miss Brown?”
“Yes, Miss Brown speaking.”
“Oh, good afternoon, miss. The Captain’s compliments. The Enchantress is in dock and could you come aboard now?”
“Tell the Captain I will come at once,” Zaria answered.
“Very good, miss. Number three dock, berth forty-seven.”
“Thank you.”
There was a crack at the other end of the line and Zaria put down the receiver. Only then did she realise that Chuck Tanner was standing close enough to her to have heard all the conversation.
“Oh, dear! I’ve just thought of something.” Zaria sat down suddenly on the bed. “You are not a confidence trickster? You are not trying to get on board so that you can rob Mr. Virdon, are you?”
Chuck Tanner laughed.
“I promise you that whatever else I do I won’t do that,” he said. “Nor am I a competitor for the treasures that you and Mr. Virdon are going to find. No, as I have told you, I just want to get to Algiers and there is no other way of doing it”
“I-I’m not all that happy about this idea all the same,” Zaria said. “Supposing the Captain says point blank that he will not allow you on board?”
“He won’t,” Chuck Tanner said confidently. “He will say that we will have to wait for Mr. Virdon’s arrival and that is where you have to be very persuasive. I’m relying on you, Miss Brown. I promise you that this is not a whim or an escapade. It’s a matter of life and death.”
There was something in the way that Chuck Tanner said it that made Zaria shiver.
“And now I want you to do something else,” he said. “Go downstairs and pay your bill. Then ask the commissionaire to call you a taxi. When you get in, tell the driver to take you to the docks.
“But, as soon as you are out of hearing, rap on the window and tell him to stop at the chemist’s shop in the Rue Garibaldi. I will be waiting for you there.”
“Then – then you are not coming down with me?” Zaria asked.
He shook his head.
“No, I am going out through the back door. It’s safer that way. I don’t want anyone to see me.”
“I – still don’t understand,” she said. “Are you – escaping from the Police? Have you done – anything wrong?”
“I have done a lot of wrong things in my life,” he answered with a smile, “but nothing that at this moment concerns the French Police. Please trust me.”
He paused and then continued,
“I have to get to Algiers and I don’t want anyone to stop me. My stepfather’s relations, his sons as a matter of fact, don’t want me to see my mother. They are afraid she may leave me her money. That’s all.”
“I see,” Zaria said with a little sigh of relief. “I – will do as you ask.”
She did not know why, but somehow, despite the whole fantastic story, the American’s odd manner, the way in which he had crept into her room, she was, in her innermost heart, glad that he was going aboard with her.
“Well, now, we’d better go,” he was saying. “Don’t forget, my name’s Chuck and you’re in love with me and I with you. I suppose I call you Doris.”
“No, please don’t do that,” Zaria said almost involuntarily. Then, as she saw him looking at her in what she fancied was surprise, she added hastily,
“It’s my – my office name, you see. At home I am called ‘Zaria’. I – usually forget to answer to – ‘Doris’.”
“Zaria!” he repeated the word softly. “That’s a lovely name – an Arab name, by the way.”
“Yes, my mother chose it because she thought that it was so pretty.”
“And it is,” Chuck Tanner said. “Zaria! I shan’t forget. We will keep Miss Doris Brown strictly for formal occasions.”
Zaria had spoken impulsively. Now she almost regretted it. A host of questions seemed to be waiting to trip her up. Would it not have been better to have let him call her Doris?
Yet she knew that it was only one more factor to make her afraid. She might so easily not answer, she might forget. No, if they were to pretend to be on intimate terms, it was safer
that he should address her in a way that she would instinctively respond to.
“I will see you in about five minutes,” Chuck said almost beneath his breath.
Then he was hurrying away down the corridor, his footsteps quite noiseless on the soft carpet.
Zaria picked up her suitcase and then she too walked down the corridor and rang the bell for the lift. It carried her down to the ground floor,= where she paid her bill and walked towards the front entrance.
‘It is right that I should help him,’ she said to herself and, stepping into the taxi, she told the commissionaire to direct the driver to go to the docks.
Chuck was waiting just inside the chemist’s door. As soon as the taxi stopped there, he came hurrying out, threw his small suitcase into the taxi and plonked a bigger one down beside the driver.
“Did you get something for that bruise?” Zaria asked as they set off.
“As a matter of fact, I did,” he replied. “The chemist assured me that it cures like magic, but I will believe it after I’ve tried it.”
They sat in silence for the rest of the journey.
They passed through the dock gates, were directed to berth forty-seven, and there, tied up against the dock, Zaria saw The Enchantress.
She had not given much thought to what the yacht – her yacht – would be like.
She had not expected it to be so white, so graceful, so altogether a luxury ship.
The Captain, a middle-aged bearded man, looking very smart with his gold-buttoned uniform, came hurrying to meet them with outstretched hand.
“How do you do, Miss Brown?” he smiled. “I hope we haven’t kept you waiting too long.”
“How do you do?” Zaria said nervously. “May I introduce Mr. Tanner, my – my fiancé?”
“Your fiancé! Well, that’s a surprise, isn’t it? I don’t think we were expecting you to bring a gentleman with you.”
“I am hoping – Mr. Virdon will not mind,” Zaria said a little breathlessly. “You see the Solicitors were very insistent that I should come on this trip and as I did not wish to leave Mr. Tanner – behind, having just become engaged, they suggested that he should come as my – my – assistant. He is very experienced in this sort of work.”
“Well, I expect it will be all right,” the Captain said. “And there’s plenty of room.”
He turned to one of the sailors.
“Take this gentleman’s luggage down to Cabin D.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“Now, Miss Brown, I would like to show you your quarters,” the Captain said. “And perhaps you and Mr. Tanner would like some tea? The Steward is preparing a real English spread in the Saloon.”
“Oh, that will be very nice,” Zaria smiled.
The Captain looked at his watch.
“I am expecting Mr. Virdon about six o’clock,” he said.
“He came over on the Cherbourg, you know. She docked at Le Havre late last night and he’s taking the day train here. They ought to be on board soon after six.”
He showed Zaria into a Stateroom that seemed to her the height of luxury. Chuck was further down the passage.
“And now I will show you the cabin that Mr. Virdon asked should be set aside as a workroom,” the Captain suggested.
He led the way down the passage into a large very comfortably furnished cabin where there was a writing table, a typewriter, a large number of files and what was obviously photographic and pottery cleaning equipment.
“We picked all this up at Cannes,” the Captain explained. “Mr. Virdon had them stored there from a cruise he made last year.”
“It all looks very business-like,” Zaria said.
She walked slowly back to her stateroom.
The Captain left her after telling her the way to the Saloon and she closed the door behind him.
She stood there, indecisive and then suddenly there came a knock at the door.
Before she could answer it, the door opened and Chuck looked in. His lips were smiling and somehow, behind those concealing dark glasses, she felt that his eyes were twinkling.
“So far so good,” he whispered. “The adventure begins! Are you excited or merely frightened?”
“Frightened! Terribly – frightened!” Zaria answered.
“But, why?” he asked. “I am here to look after you.”
CHAPTER TWO
Zaria stood on deck and watched the yacht move slowly out of the great harbour.
It was very early in the morning, a mist still covered the horizon and the sea was translucent, so pale that it was hard to believe that later it would be the vivid blue of the Madonna’s robe.
Everything seemed to have a Fairytale quality, as if the world itself was an illusion.
‘This is really happening to me,’ she insisted and at the same time tried to credit the astounding fact that this yacht was hers – her very own.
A frown of anxiety lined her face as she remembered the problems that lay ahead of her that day.
Mr. Virdon and his party had not arrived at six o’clock the previous evening as expected. A telegram came to say they had been held up in Paris and would not be on board until nearly midnight.
“I suppose we must wait up for them,” Zaria had said to Chuck when the message was relayed to them by the Steward.
“No reason,” he answered. “It will be time enough in the morning to tell Mr. Virdon about us.”
Zaria shook her head.
“I would rather get it over now and done with. I am terrified anyway of meeting him.”
“Why?” Chuck asked and then as she did not answer he said, “What a strange girl you are! You seem to be frightened of so many things. What is worrying you particularly? Apart from me.”
Zaria looked away from him, glancing round the big comfortable cabin, which was not in the least like her idea of an office. For one wild moment she thought of telling him the truth, revealing who she was and explaining how she had come to be here on Doris Brown’s passport.
Then she remembered that she knew nothing about Chuck. She had only met him a few hours ago.
With an effort she tried to sound business-like as she said,
“I think it would be more to the point if you told me something about yourself.
“Of course,” he said disarmingly. “What do you want to know? I’m twenty-eight, an American with a French mother, who has re-married a Frenchman. I know Europe fairly well. I smoke, drink and am fond of children. Is that the sort of thing you want to hear?”
“I suppose – so,” Zaria said doubtfully.
She had a feeling that he was deliberately hiding something even while he seemed so utterly at ease.
“And now let’s go on talking about you,” he said. “You’ve been ill, haven’t you?”
Zaria was about to deny it when she remembered how terrible she looked with her prominent cheekbones and dark lined eyes. He would never understand the truth, therefore she must lie if only for her own self-respect.
“Yes, I have been ill,” she said gently.
“I thought so,” he answered. “And this is going to be a real rest cure for you at any rate as far as Algiers. I will do the work in exchange for my passage and you put your feet up and relax.”
“What do you do for a living?” Zaria asked.
He hesitated before he answered and she knew that she was not going to hear the truth.
“Oh, I’ve done quite a lot of things in my time,” he answered evasively. “I’ve been a soldier, I can pilot an aeroplane and I’m not such a bad plumber when the necessity arises.”
‘In other words you are not going to tell me,’ Zaria thought to herself, but she was too shy to say it aloud.
The conversation between them seemed to lapse. She thought how gauche and awkward she was and it was because she had lived out of the world for so long, seeing so few people.
And yet she could look back and remember the days when her mother was alive, when their house in Edinburgh had been filled with int
eresting and amusing people. She could remember coming down in her party dress and being told to shake hands with Lord This and Sir Somebody That, with a famous professor and a celebrated conductor.
There had been laughter and witty conversation, for her mother seemed to stimulate and inspire everyone with whom she came in contact to give out the very best of themselves.
Then she had died and Zaria could remember those long wakeful nights when she had cried aloud in the darkness,
“Mummy, where are you? Come back to me, I want you.”
She and her father had moved from Edinburgh. At first they travelled abroad, then when they returned to England they took rooms in London until finally Professor Mansford decided to settle in Scotland in that lonely house on the moors.
“It’s lovely, isn’t it?”
A voice speaking behind her unexpectedly made her jump and she turned to find Chuck had come up to her unawares.
“You are very early,” he said.
“I thought Mr. Virdon might want me,” Zaria explained.
“I think it’s unlikely,” he answered. “The Steward tells me that they are all going to have breakfast in their cabins.”
“All of them?” Zaria asked in surprise.
Chuck grinned at her.
“You don’t understand the ways of the idle rich.”
“Mr. Virdon isn’t idle – ” Zaria began and then the words seemed to die away on her lips.
She was remembering how strange all three men had seemed last night when they arrived.
She supposed it was because she was embarrassed and frightened that they too had seemed ill at ease. She had the impression that two of them at least had been drinking.
It had been nearly midnight when they had come aboard. A big car had drawn up on the docks and they had walked up the gangway in silence, almost, Zaria thought, like naughty boys who were wondering what sort of reception they were going to get.
And then she knew that such an idea was ridiculous.
Mr. Virdon was dressed in conventional yachting kit, white trousers and gold-buttoned jacket and a yachting cap with a white top.
He had shaken hands with the Captain and introduced his friends.
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