by Molly Thynne
Then silence.
CHAPTER II
News travels quickly and mysteriously on board ship. By the time lunch was over it was generally known that the plump, pasty-faced little man who had spent the greater part of his time hanging about the bar had died suddenly and it was not long before the rumour began to spread that his death had not been due to natural causes. As is usual in such cases it was difficult to get hold of any definite information. The officers of the ship, beyond confirming the fact that the man had been found lying dead at the foot of one of the companion-ways, proved resolutely non-committal and, for once, the prospect of a tip, however heavy, failed to loosen the tongues of any of the stewards.
The three passengers with whom the unfortunate man had spent the evening found themselves engulfed in a surprising and quite unprecedented wave of popularity, but they could do little to allay the curiosity of those who were now so ready to offer them liquid refreshment. Smith, the dead man, had left them shortly before midnight and that was the last they had seen of him. It was said that one of the passengers, on his way to bed in the early hours of the morning, had surprised a couple of deck hands scouring a dark patch that might have been blood on the boards at the foot of the companion, but nobody, so far, had been able to trace the rumour to its source or to discover the identity of the passenger.
The ship’s doctor, a gloomy and saturnine person at the best of times, would vouchsafe nothing but that the man was dead and that there was not going to be a funeral at sea for the benefit of any kodak fiends on board.
By the following day even the most curious had been obliged to confess themselves baffled and the excitement over the affair had begun to die a natural death, only to be resuscitated abruptly in the afternoon by the news that the captain was interviewing in his cabin certain of the first-class passengers whose staterooms were on the upper deck. Unfortunately those who travel in staterooms are not very accessible to the general public, but one or two of them were waylaid and cross-examined. The results proved disappointing. The captain’s questions had been few and to the point and, if he learned nothing from them, the passengers had gleaned even less from him. They had been asked whether they had been disturbed by any unusual sounds during the night and they had been obliged to confess that they had not. Beyond that they had nothing of interest to report.
“Anyhow, it looks as if there were something to be said for the murder theory,” remarked a shrewd-looking, elderly man who had listened in silence to the reports from the captain’s cabin. “‘Something unusual’ sounds a bit suspicious. Well, they’re keeping it pretty close, whatever it is. I’m willing to bet that this is the last we hear of it till we land at Liverpool. Something’s bound to come out then.”
“If there’s anything to come out. The fellow may have had a fit and injured himself in falling.”
The speaker was a tall, square-shouldered Englishman, whose close-clipped moustache and erect bearing suggested that at one time he might have worn a uniform. He spoke listlessly, as if this incessant speculation on the man’s death had begun to pall on him.
“If that’s the case, why don’t they say so and have done with it? As it is, they’ve got the whole boat buzzing like a hornet’s nest. This hush-hush business is a mistake, in my opinion.”
The other nodded.
“I’ve no doubt you’re right,” he remarked easily as he turned away.
He strolled past the long line of deck chairs and disappeared from view. A few minutes later he was at the door of the captain’s cabin.
“My name’s Shand,” he said, by way of introduction.
As he spoke he laid a card on the table and, at the sight of it, the captain’s expression of veiled annoyance changed to one of interest.
“New Scotland Yard,” he read slowly.
Then: “You’ve got your credentials, I suppose, Chief Inspector?”
Shand handed them over in silence.
The captain glanced through them and returned them to their owner.
“Anything I can do for you?” he asked urbanely.
The inspector’s eyes twinkled.
“I rather fancy it’s the other way round. I was going to ask if there was anything I could do for you.”
The captain looked up sharply.
“This Smith affair, eh?” Then, as a sudden thought struck him. “You’re not on board on his account, are you?”
Shand shook his head.
“No. I’ve been over to Buenos Aires on an extradition job and missed my man by a day. I’m interested, though.”
“In what way?”
“Well, my man slipped me. Doubled back to Europe, the day before I landed, but this man, Smith, was one of his associates in Buenos Aires and I was looking forward to getting certain information out of him that might have proved useful. Unfortunately I waited too long.”
The captain looked at him thoughtfully.
“Do you think this could have had any connection with your affair?” he asked. “You know how Smith died?”
“I know nothing. Your people haven’t been giving much away. There seems to be a general impression that he met with foul play.”
“He was strangled,” said the captain shortly.
Shand gave a low whistle.
“Strangled! That’s fairly unusual.”
“If you ask me, I think it’s confoundedly unpleasant. As you may imagine, we’re not broadcasting the news.”
He sat for a moment turning Shand’s card meditatively in his fingers. Then he looked up at him frankly.
“If you can see your way to giving us a hand in this I shall be grateful,” he said. “It’s out of my beat altogether. In any case, there’s bound to be an inquest so that it will probably come within your province in the end. The thing’s a mystery, so far.”
“There’s nothing among his papers, I suppose, to connect him with anyone on board? I don’t mind confessing that I came to you in the hope of giving them the look-over.”
The other shook his head.
“We’ve only made a very cursory examination, but there seems to be nothing. One thing we have pretty well established: robbery was not the motive. The man was almost broke. He had money when he came on board, but he has been playing heavily and, from what the men say who were playing with him that night, he could have had very little on him when he was killed. He laid his pocketbook open on the table when he was settling up, and according to them, it was practically empty.”
“Where was he found?” asked Shand.
The captain opened an advertisement folder containing a plan of the Enriqueta. He made a cross with his pencil at the foot of one of the companionways and pushed the paper over to Shand.
“That’s the place,” he said. “He was found by one of the stewards just after one a.m. The man’s got rather a curious story to tell, by the way. Like to see him?”
“I’d better hear what he’s got to say. Is he an Englishman?”
“London born, I should think, by his accent. We’re an English company, you know. He’s been with the company fifteen years and he’s got an excellent record.”
While the man was being sent for Shand studied the plan before him.
“Assuming that Smith was on his way to his cabin from the smoke room, would this be on his route?” he asked, placing his finger on the cross.
“There would be nothing to prevent his going that way provided he had gone onto the upper deck for a breath of air, which is what he seems to have done. He was seen, leaning over the rail, sometime between twelve and half-past by two of the passengers who stood near him, smoking, for about fifteen minutes. They left him there when they turned in.” The steward proved to be an intelligent looking cockney. Shand, having started the ball rolling with a leading question or two, left him to tell his story in his own way.
It appeared that he had been on his way to the galley with a tray of bottles and soiled glasses which he had fetched from one of the first-class cabins. As he turned the corner by
the last of the row of staterooms he saw a man lying on his back at the foot of the companionway. Bending over him was another man. He could see them both distinctly in the glare of an electric light just overhead. Realizing that something was wrong, he put down the tray he was carrying and ran forward. To get rid of the tray he had to stoop and, in doing so, took his eyes off the men for a moment. When he straightened himself the second man was nowhere to be seen. After a short delay, during which he ascertained that Smith, whom he knew by sight, was, as he thought at the time, unconscious, he went in search of the second man, but could find no trace of him. He then gave the alarm and it was discovered that Smith was dead.
“You say that you saw them both distinctly in the light of the lamp?” asked Shand. “Would you recognize the man you saw bending over Smith?”
The steward shook his head.
“I couldn’t swear to him, sir,” he answered. “I could see ’im clear enough under the light, but there was a white bandage or it may ’ave been a muffler, round the lower part of ’is face. Uncommon queer, ’e looked, what with that and ’is green pyjamas.”
“Pyjamas?”
“That’s right, sir. Mr. Smith was dressed all right, but this other chap looked as if ’e’d got straight out of bed like. Bright green pyjamas, ’e’d got on, and this muffler thing round ’is face.”
“Can you describe him at all?”
“Medium weight and on the thin side, I should say. ’E straightened up while I was lookin’ at ’im. And ’is ’air was fair, or it might ’ave been white. It was difficult to tell just under the lamp.”
“Ever seen him before, do you think?”
“Not to my knowledge, but then there was that muffler thing. I’d give something to know where ’e got to. ’E must ’ave been pretty nippy, too. I wasn’t not more than a minute bendin’ over that there tray and when I looked up ’e was gone. Must ’ave either slipped round the corner and past the staterooms or shinned up the companion.”
“How much time did you waste over Smith before you went after him, do you think?”
“Not more than a couple of minutes. I see ’e was unconscious at once, then I lifted ’is ’ead and I see the blood. I never thought of ’im being dead. Just thought ’e’d ’ad a drop too much and slipped up and ’it ’imself, so I let ’im lie and went after the other chap meanin’ to ask ’im if ’e’d seen ’ow it ’appened. But ’e was clean gone.”
“Do you know of anybody on board with pyjamas that colour?”
“No, sir, and what’s more I’ve asked others and they say they ’aven’t seen none, neither. And the laundry ’aven’t ’ad nothin’ of that sort through their ’ands. I’ll lay them pyjamas ’ave gone overboard all right, by now,” he added shrewdly.
Shand laughed.
“Shouldn’t wonder if you’re right,” he agreed.
Then, as the man was just going, he stopped him.
“You’ve no idea what the man was doing when you first saw him, I suppose?”
“I couldn’t see. It was all too quick. ’E was bendin’ over Mr. Smith when I first see ’im, but ’e straightened up almost at once. Then I stooped to put the tray down and when I looked up ’e was gone.”
“He might have slipped into one of the staterooms,” suggested Shand.
“’E might. But I never ’eard no door shut, that I’ll swear and they was all closed, right enough, when I went along to look for ’im.”
“Did you go up the companion?”
“Yes, and ’ad a good look round, but there wasn’t no sign of ’im.”
Shand thanked the man and let him go.
“Funny,” he said, “about this white muffler. The steward seems pretty positive about it.”
The captain smiled.
“I think we’ve traced the significance of that,” he answered. “The ship’s doctor spotted it. He found flecks of lather on the dead man’s coat.”
Shand stared at him.
“Lather? Soap do you mean?”
The captain nodded.
“Yes. The doctor’s theory is that the man was shaving and the lather was still on his face when he attacked Smith. That’s to say, if he did attack him. We’ve no proof that it was he who committed the murder.”
“He might have been disturbed by the noise of a struggle and have come out of his cabin and found Smith,” admitted Shand. “Funny thing that he hasn’t come forward, though. And, if he didn’t do it, why did he clear off like that when he saw the steward?”
“My theory is that he did kill the man. Smith must have disturbed him while he was shaving, probably went into his cabin. There seems no doubt that Smith had been drinking heavily, as usual, and he appears to have been in an ugly mood when he left the smoking room. He may have picked a quarrel with the man and been followed by him to the foot of the companion. The body was still warm when the doctor reached it and he is of the opinion that the man must have been killed just before the steward found him.”
“If there was a quarrel someone must have heard it.”
“No one has come forward to say so. I’ve interviewed most of the passengers from that deck, but they all declare that they were not disturbed in any way. Two of them were awake, one undressing and the other reading, but they heard nothing. Would you like to see what you can get out of them?”
But Shand shook his head.
“Better let me remain in the background,” he said decisively. “If I lie low there’s a chance I may pick something useful out of all the gossip that’s going round. People won’t talk freely before me, once they know who I am. But I’d like to have a look at Smith’s papers.”
The captain unlocked the drawer of his table and opened it. “I’ve got most of them here,” he said. “His passport and cheque book and some private letters. I locked them up with the contents of his pockets for safety.”
He laid a miscellaneous collection of objects on the table. Shand looked through them quickly.
“Nothing to help me here,” he said at last. “The passport’s made out in the name of Smith all right and I fancy that was his real name. The man I was after had been turning out some very pretty five and ten pound notes and I’ve reason to believe that Smith had planted some of them, but I’ve no real evidence against him. Can I see his money?”
The captain handed it over, a solitary five pound note, some English silver and some small change in South American currency.
“He’d come pretty well down to bed-rock,” remarked Shand, as he examined the note. “This isn’t ‘slush’ though. It’s genuine enough. I’d like to get hold of some of the stuff he’s been paying his gambling debts with.”
“I can manage that for you, if you don’t want to appear in the matter. He hadn’t many friends on board and nearly always played with the same crowd. They’re a rough lot, but ready enough to give any information they can about him. I’ve only to suggest that there was a doubt as to the genuineness of his money and they’ll come forward quickly enough with any they got from him, if only to make sure that they haven’t been done. Anything else I can do for you?”
Shand rose.
“Nothing except to let me run an eye over that money as soon as you get it. I’ll go and have a look at the place where he was found. There’s no doubt that he was strangled, I suppose?”
“None whatever. The doctor says he was choked to death and there are the bruises on his throat.”
After dinner that night Shand spent a profitable hour in the captain’s cabin over a mixed pile of English and American notes.
He looked up as the captain entered and pushed three five pound notes which he had laid aside over to him.
“I was right about our friend, Smith,” he said. “Somebody’s been stung. The rest are genuine, but those three are the work of the gentleman I just missed in Buenos Aires. Smith was passing the stuff all right. I wish now I could have had a word with him.”
“Was he one of a gang, do you suppose?”
Shand shook his head.<
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“We’ve every reason to believe that our man works alone. He’s a good man, an artist in his way and he can always find a market for his stuff. We’ve got nothing against Smith at the Yard and it was only by accident that I got onto his track in Buenos Aires. It’s unlikely that he’s a habitual criminal. He’s probably one of those people who hang onto the outskirts of the real criminal world and are simply made use of by the clever ones. Unless they’re unlucky or particularly clumsy they don’t usually get into trouble. When Smith was in funds he probably ran straight enough.”
“Then you don’t think your man had anything to do with this?”
“It’s unlikely, unless Smith could have told us more than I supposed. That he had been mixed up in the phoney money business, there seems no doubt, but the man we want is well on his way to Europe by now and, even supposing Smith to be in possession of dangerous information, I can see no reason why the gang, if there is one, which I doubt, should have waited all this time before putting him out of action. Smith could have split on them any day during the last week if I’d taken the trouble to approach him. I’ve a strong suspicion that this is a different business altogether and I’d give a good deal to know who the party is on this boat who is prepared to risk murder for the sake of getting a man like Smith out of the way. He must have had good reason to be afraid of him.”
The captain, who had been examining the forged notes, threw them back onto the table.
“Good stuff,” he said appreciatively. “I shouldn’t have spotted them if you hadn’t told me. It hasn’t occurred to you, I suppose,” he went on thoughtfully, “that Smith and the fellow who did him in may have met for the first time last night? Met on the boat, I mean. From all accounts, Smith wasn’t intimate with any one on board and seems to have made very few friends, apart from the rather rough lot he played cards with. I fancy they’re straight enough. Cattle ranchers and that sort of thing. If this chap had been keeping close in one of the staterooms, for instance, he may have run into Smith by accident. You’re quite sure the man you are after isn’t on board?”
Shand rose to his feet.