‘No, I don’t! And I don’t want to know!’ snapped Hugh. ‘It seems to me that I am making a mess of everything.’
‘It isn’t your fault that he recognised you. That is sheer bad luck, and part of the dangerous game we have to play.’
‘It isn’t only that,’ groaned Hugh. ‘There is a female downstairs who has stuck to me like a leech all the evening. She has put her hands in mine, rested her head on my shoulder, and even invited me to—to kiss her. Hang it all! I shouldn’t be surprised if she takes it for granted that I am engaged to marry her.’
Cousins stared at him, and then chuckled softly.
‘“Bid me love, and I will give a loving heart to thee”,’ he quoted. ‘How well Herrick understood these things!’
‘Blow Herrick, and you, too!’ growled Hugh, and going cautiously down below, he managed to reach his cabin without being waylaid.
Whether it was through the machinations of Joan or Cousins, or both, Hugh could not tell, but for the remainder of the time before Port Said was reached, he was not bothered by his butterfly lady, as he still thought of her. Once he caught her looking at him in the most reproachful manner, and trembled for the time when Port Said should be left behind, and he no longer able to avoid her.
He told Joan what had occurred between Hudson and himself, and she was rather inclined to forgive the former than otherwise. Nothing was seen of him previous to their reaching the Egyptian port. It was reported that he was confined to his cabin with an attack of malaria.
The Ispahan drew into Port Said early in the morning, and taking care to avoid Olive – whose surname was Gregson, by the way – Hugh and Joan went ashore as soon as possible, and had quite a good time. Once they saw Hudson, but he took care to keep out of their way, and once they caught sight of Cousins strolling along as though he owned the place, with a brand-new white topee perched rakishly on his head. They returned to the ship just before she sailed, loaded with parcels, most of which they did not want.
Hugh went to his cabin to have a wash as the Ispahan was getting under way. He had not been there long before Cousins came in, looking unusually serious for him. He closed the cabin door mysteriously before he spoke.
‘Hudson met a friend of his, and had quite a long chat in one of those small drinking places behind Simon Artz,’ he announced. ‘Who do you think the friend was?’
‘Dunno,’ mumbled Hugh, from the midst of soapy bubbles.
‘Kamper!’
CHAPTER EIGHT
In Which Oscar J. Miles Butts in
Cousins’ announcement gave Hugh such a shock that for a moment he appeared to have lost the power of movement. He just stood and glared at the other. Then he turned suddenly to the wash basin, dived his face into the water and, emerging with a gasp, proceeded to use a towel with great vigour.
‘Now,’ he said; ‘what do you mean by trying to put the wind up me in that outrageous fashion?’
‘I made no attempt to put the wind up you,’ replied Cousins. ‘I was simply stating a plain, unvarnished fact.’
‘Do you seriously mean that you saw Kamper – in Port Said?’
The little man nodded.
‘But how in the name of all that’s wonderful did he get there?’
‘Boat!’ said Cousins laconically.
‘I wasn’t supposing that he had walked,’ said Hugh, with heavy sarcasm. ‘What I’d like to know is, when did he leave England and how? The police and Secret Service were looking for him, and he couldn’t have got away without being spotted.’
‘Yet he is in Port Said! It doesn’t matter so much to us how he got away, as why he is there, and what he is up to.’
Hugh nodded gloomily.
‘What an ass I was not to catch him when I had the chance. He may have found out all about our trip to India and be following us.’
‘I don’t think there is much doubt that he knows a good deal about us, if not all. At any rate Hudson will have put him wise to what he might previously only have guessed at.’
‘Good Lord, yes! I had forgotten Hudson. I can hardly credit, though, that that fellow, bad as he is, is in with Kamper’s lot. Are you sure it was he?’
‘Positive!’
Hugh groaned.
‘Why didn’t I throw him overboard the other night!’ he muttered.
‘It was a shock to me,’ said Cousins. ‘I saw Hudson walking along as though he did not want to be seen, so I stalked him. I watched him go into that drinking den, and followed him in – luckily I was able to hide behind a partition. Kamper was waiting for him and they retired to a corner together.’
‘You didn’t hear what was said?’
‘No, unfortunately. I was not able to get near enough.’
‘So, before we ever start our work in India, our arrival will be known to the whole of the Russian circle there. What wretched luck!’
Cousins shrugged his shoulders.
‘It is all in the game,’ he said. ‘Anyhow we start with one advantage. We know that Hudson is connected with them in some way. I think it is likely that Kamper is also going to India, probably on some tramp steamer. I took the precaution of sending a cable in code to headquarters telling them of his presence in Port Said and asking them to give instructions for him to be watched for in India.’
‘Good man! It may do the trick!’
‘It may not,’ replied Cousins doubtfully. ‘He is much too cute to be caught like that. He’s a wretched-looking specimen, but he has the devil’s own ingenuity. Just reflect – we extradite him to Russia under guard; ten days later he is back in London; he disappears again, and three weeks after that turns up in Port Said. He’ll take some catching now. I wish I had had time to find out whether he was on a boat, or stopping in Port Said.’
For some time there was silence. Hugh sat on the edge of his bunk and tried to think things out; Cousins strolled to the port-hole and gazed at the passing scene. The ship was just entering the Suez Canal.
‘Of all the desolate places in the world,’ he said, ‘commend me to the Suez Canal. And yet even those weeds growing on the bank conjure up pleasant memories – memories of hours spent in weeding my four by six garden at home – “To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears”. In case you don’t recognise that, it’s a bit of Wordsworth!’
‘What are we to do about Hudson?’ demanded Hugh abruptly.
Cousins turned, and looked at him reproachfully.
‘Have you no artistic soul?’ he asked. ‘What connection can Hudson have with Wordsworth?’
‘Get your four by six mind fixed on Hudson for a few minutes, and answer my question!’
‘My garden is four by six,’ replied Cousins, ‘I was not talking about my mind. That is more likely to be six by four,’ he added reflectively. ‘However, returning to Hudson with great reluctance, I think that the only thing we can do is to keep a good watch on him now, and in India.’
‘We can’t very well have him arrested when we reach Bombay, I suppose!’ said Hugh regretfully.
‘Of course not! No evidence against him. But on the other hand by keeping him under surveillance he might lead us to the very object of our journey.’
‘There’s something in that,’ admitted Hugh.
‘There’s a good deal in it. He doesn’t know that we suspect his connection with Kamper, and so “finis coronat opus”!’
‘Is that also from the back of a dictionary?’ asked Hugh.
Cousins wrinkled up his face in thought.
‘I’m afraid it must be,’ he said.
Hugh laughed.
‘Run away!’ he said. ‘I am going to find Joan and gaze on the desolation you spoke about.’
‘Go, my son! And be careful never to give Hudson the slightest inkling that you know he is anything more than an Indian Civil Servant, and a blighter. I have an interview with the laundry man about a shirt that was returned without a button. As Epictetus remarked at Hierapolis—’
B
ut Hugh had gone.
‘He seems to know me,’ muttered Cousins, and with that cryptic remark he went off to find his laundry man.
Hugh made his way to the promenade deck, and had a narrow escape of falling into the clutches of Miss Gregson, who was talking to an elderly man near the head of the gangway. However Joan, who evidently had been waiting for him, darted across and, taking his arm led him to the ship’s side. She was immensely interested in everything she saw, and to her the Suez Canal was anything but a scene of desolation.
‘Oh, Hugh,’ she said, ‘it’s wonderful to travel, isn’t it? I could spend my life just journeying round the world.’
‘You’d soon get tired of it,’ he said with the blasé air of the old traveller.
‘I’m sure I never should,’ she denied. ‘It is all so wonderful, I think!’
They passed two steamers tied up to let the mail boat by, and she laughed merrily at the witticisms exchanged between the crews; and even in a dredger, with its Arab sailors, she found something to excite her interest. Everything was all so gloriously novel to Joan, and there were many women on board who looked at her with envy, and sighed for their lost youth; many of whom a prolonged sojourn in India had robbed of two of life’s most precious gifts, simplicity and the power of enjoyment.
Presently they heard footsteps, and Miss Gregson joined them, a most bewitching smile on her lips.
‘I have never met a brother and sister so devoted to each other,’ she said. ‘You two positively make me long for a brother.’
Hugh looked at Joan with such a pained expression on his face that it was all she could do to prevent herself from laughing. At the same time she greatly resented the efforts of this woman to capture her brother, and had resolved to checkmate her. Miss Gregson ranged herself on the other side of Shannon.
‘I consider you have treated me disgracefully since the night of the dance,’ she said. ‘You appear to have been avoiding me.’
‘I have felt rather embarrassed, Miss Gregson,’ replied Hugh, with an effort; ‘that is why!’
‘Surely not,’ she said coyly. ‘You and I understand each other too well for that, don’t we? And why am I Miss Gregson now?’
‘Because that is your name,’ he said brightly.
‘But – but I was Olive the other night!’
Joan uttered a sound expressive of disgust.
‘I wouldn’t think of calling you by your Christian name,’ said Shannon.
‘But I asked you to!’
‘Did you?’
‘Oh, Hugh! Don’t you remember?’ She looked at him reproachfully, and he blanched.
‘I – I do remember something to that effect,’ he said.
‘You are being very, very cruel, Hugh! Your sister will think awful things of poor little me.’
‘Why should I?’ asked Joan coldly.
‘You saw us in a – a rather intimate attitude the other night,’ replied Miss Gregson, ‘and now Hugh seems to be almost ashamed of telling you—’
‘Telling me what?’ demanded Joan, while Hugh stared at her in apprehension.
Miss Gregson hid her face with great shyness.
‘It is hardly the girl’s place to announce an engagement,’ she murmured.
‘What!’ shouted Hugh. Joan clung to the railing in amazement and dismay.
Miss Gregson looked up at the former, and her eyes were filled with tears, while her mouth drooped pathetically at the corners.
‘Do you mean to say that you were only playing with me?’ she asked, a note of agitation in her voice.
‘My dear girl,’ said Hugh, gulping hard. ‘I have never given you the slightest reason for thinking that we – we are engaged.’
At that her whole manner changed, her eyes flashed, and her body stiffened. She made no attempt to drop her voice, and Hugh noticed with horror, that several of their fellow passengers were gazing curiously in their direction.
‘So that is the kind of man you are,’ she said. ‘You lead me on and, in my innocence and trust, I grow to – to love you, and then you laugh at me, and throw me aside!’
‘How dare you accuse my brother of such a thing!’ cried Joan, trembling with indignation.
‘And you,’ went on Miss Gregson to Joan; ‘you have all along been against me!’ Her manner once again changed; the tears sprang to her eyes. ‘You – you have broken my heart, Hugh!’ she sobbed.
‘I say I’m awfully sorry if you misunderstood anything I have said or done,’ muttered poor Hugh.
‘Don’t be an idiot!’ hissed Joan to him.
‘It is no use pretending you’re sorry now,’ said Miss Gregson in a shrill voice. ‘You have made me the laughing stock of the ship, and you’ll be sorry in reality for all this before I have done with you!’
And with this threat she turned and stalked off, and down the gangway. A few yards away Hudson was standing smiling sardonically.
Hugh and Joan looked at each other in dismay.
‘What an awful woman!’ said the latter.
‘Good Lord!’ muttered Hugh. ‘What on earth have I done to make her think that—’
‘Say!’ said a voice behind them. ‘That was the cutest bit of playacting I’ve seen for some time.’
They turned and beheld Mr Oscar Julius Miles, an American passenger, who had embarked at Port Said. He was tall and very thin with a gaunt face and deep-set grey eyes, but his mouth was almost eloquent of kindliness and good humour. His hair was a nondescript sort of colour, and he wore tortoise-shell rimmed glasses; his clothes obviously had been made by a first-class tailor, and he wore them with an air of distinction. He looked about thirty-five, but might have been younger. He raised his broad-brimmed grey felt hat and bowed.
‘I hope you don’t mind my butting in,’ he said. ‘It kinder got my goat to hear that female letting things rip.’
‘I suppose you mean to be polite,’ said Hugh stiffly, ‘but this is a matter that my sister and I hardly care to discuss with a stranger.’
‘I guess not,’ replied the American, ‘but you see I feel rather an interest in Olive Gregson.’
‘You know her then?’ asked Joan.
‘I reckon I do. She tried the same game with me six months ago travelling from Bombay to Port Said.’
‘Good gracious!’ exclaimed Joan. ‘How awful!’
‘Well, I’ll say it wasn’t nice. All the same I sorter have a sneaking hope that she’ll get a husband one of these days – she deserves one.’
‘Oh! She makes me hate my sex!’ said Joan in disgust, and turned to the contemplation of the Arabian desert.
‘Then she makes a habit of this sort of thing?’ asked Hugh.
‘It kinder looks like it. Say, it wouldn’t be a bad notion if I introduced myself. I’m Oscar J. Miles, an American at a loose end.’ He held out his hand and smiled, and Hugh grasped it with the feeling that he and this man were destined to become staunch friends.
‘My name’s Shannon, Hugh Shannon,’ he said. ‘This is my sister.’
Joan turned round, and held out her hand. She decided that Mr Oscar Miles was a good sort. He took her hand and held it gently for a second.
‘I’m glad I made up my mind to return to India, Miss Shannon,’ he said. ‘I have not made many friends since I left the States.’
‘Are you travelling round the world?’ she asked.
His eyes twinkled.
‘I have travelled some,’ he replied. ‘I started off two years ago after a breakdown in health, and there isn’t much of the little old world I haven’t seen since. I spent five months in India and then came to Egypt. During the last six months I guess I’ve seen all there is to be seen in North Africa.’
‘How lovely to travel about like that!’ said the girl.
‘It kinder gets lonesome after a while,’ he smiled, ‘and I half made up my mind to go back home, but I decided to have another look at India first.’
‘What part are you bound for?’ asked Hugh.
‘That�
��s just what I can’t tell you. I’ll lump my bags ashore at Bombay, but there’s a whole lot of thinking to be done there, before I move on.’
‘We’re going to Lahore,’ said Joan. ‘My brother will be stationed there for three years.’
‘Gee! I thought of seeing a little bit of Northern India myself, and Lahore’s a great place to be in just now.’
‘Why?’ asked Hugh.
‘There’s a whole lot of trouble simmering, I guess, and if a man can butt in without the authorities getting sore, he can have some fun.’
Hugh looked serious.
‘Do you mean to say that things are as bad as that there?’
‘Well, they might be!’
Hugh looked at his sister seriously.
‘I’m beginning to be sorry I brought you now, Joan,’ he said.
‘Not a bit of it,’ said Miles. ‘The trouble’s in the native quarter, not in the civil station. Miss Shannon won’t know there’s anything on. Say, what about a drink? Talking is dry work, and I guess there’s a smoking room on this vessel with all the usual appurtenances thereto.’
‘But ladies are not admitted,’ said Hugh.
‘Isn’t that a mighty shame? Well, we’ll find a plate where ladies are admitted!’
Joan smiled.
‘I’d rather stay on deck, thank you, Mr Miles. You and Hugh go along to the smoking room.’
‘Hugh and I’ll sure find our way there,’ declared the American, then smiled. ‘What do you think of that?’ he said. ‘That’s some familiarity for you!’
Hugh and Joan laughed.
‘I don’t mind what you call me,’ said the former.
‘Well, I’m glad of that. My tongue has a bad habit of saying things it shouldn’t at times. Are you sure you won’t come along, Miss Shannon, and let us find a little corner somewhere?’
‘Quite, thanks!’
‘Can I send you along a drink?’
She shook her head.
‘No, thank you!’
‘It surprises me how anyone can get along in this climate without an almighty thirst,’ he said. ‘Come along, Mr Shannon!’
Devil's Cocktail (Wallace of the Secret Service Series) Page 6