The rotund Crown, who, by virtue of his office, had been harassed even more than had Lavender, was inclined to be reticent and a bit short. Lavender merely smiled coldly, and replied with scrupulous accuracy to all questions leveled at him. The facts, he admitted without reserve, but he declined to indulge in speculation.
“It is obviously a case of a falling out of crooks,” he concluded. “I have received a wireless message from New York, which positively identifies the baroness as a well-known and, if you like the term, a high class crook. The stolen jewels, if they have been stolen — and apparently they have been — are said to have originally disappeared in New York, some two months ago. I have no doubt that the baroness was on her way to Europe with them, and that the division of spoils was to take place there. Possibly she was to sell them. Her accomplices in the original theft, I should imagine, are for the most part on the way to Europe on other vessels. One, however, it would seem — or, any rate, somebody who knows the truth about the jewels — is on board this vessel. There is no cause for alarm. The decent passengers are quite safe.”
“She would have had to smuggle them in, wouldn’t she?” asked Beverley of Toronto. The remark was more of a statement than a question.
“Yes,” replied Lavender, “but that plan was probably worked out to the last comma. Smuggling offers no great difficulties to a clever person.”
At the close of the meal, we were surrounded by interested questioners; but not even the wiles of Betty Cosgrave, the screen star, could shake Lavender’s reserve. We heartlessly left the purser to answer all interviewers, and hurried on deck. On the way up, we passed the captain, a pleasant-faced Englishman somewhat past middle life. He had something on his mind.
“Er — Mr. Lavender,” he observed, “Mr. Crown has been keeping me informed, of course, of this exraordinary business. Nasty — very nasty indeed! Sinister! Mr. Crown, of course, acts for me and for the company. I have no wish to interfere with what is in better hands than my own; but you will understand that I am deeply affected by it all. May I ask whether you anticipate a — a successful conclusion?”
“Entirely successful, Captain Rogers,” replied Lavender seriously. “It is the sort of case the very simplicity of which makes it difficult; but I believe it is yielding to treatment. I believe, quite honestly, that before long I shall be able to present you with the murderer of the Baroness Borsolini, and to turn over the stolen jewels.”
“Thank you,” said the captain with a nod. “I have every confidence in you. And in Major Rittenhouse, too. Crown tells me you are both quite famous men in your field. I am sorry I could not have you at my table. If I can be of service, please command me.”
We finished our journey to the boat deck, without further interruption, and found our long-unused deck chairs awaiting us. The night had cleared, but a cold breeze was blowing over the sea, and we wrapped ourselves in rugs to our chins.
“You seem pretty confident of success, Jimmie,” I ventured, when our pipes were going strongly, and the moment seemed propitious.
“I am confident,” said he. “It is beyond credence that this fellow can escape. I am working privately on an idea of my own that, I confess, may not work out; but it looks promising. Frankly, Gilly, it has to do with that fragment of paper that the baroness gave young Russell; but that is all I dare say about it, at present. And I will ask you to keep that much a secret. What I want, of course, is the other piece of the paper — the larger piece.”
“Did Mrs. Rittenhouse identify it?” I asked curiously.
“She did,” replied my friend, almost grimly. “She identified it in a moment, because both she and her sister have papers exactly like it. Rit is working with me in this, and I may hear from him at any minute. He is less of a figure than I, in this thing, and can snoop about with less attention.”
We sat in silence for a few moments, listening to the throb of the ship’s great engines, and the rush of water beyond the white line of the rail. Then I spoke again. “Gallery was a bit previous, wasn’t he, Jimmie, in cabling Scotland Yard to help you?”
“No, it was all right,” replied my friend, with a little smile. “Don’t be jealous, Gilly. I know exactly why Gallery did that. He thought that I might, at the last moment, feel some embarrassment in using the wireless; that is, that I might find myself in a position where I could not use it without betraying my suspicions, whatever they might be, to the person suspected. He anticipates that my use of the ship’s wireless, if my actions are being watched — and, rest assured, they are being watched — may alarm the murderer. It was a piece of clear thinking on Gallery’s part, a resourceful man’s safeguard against chance or probability.”
I nodded, and again we sat without speech, until a step sounded along the boards, and the tall figure of the Major hove in view. Rittenhouse seated himself without a word beyond a greeting, and for a few moments we all smoked in silence.
“Murchison is still ill,” he said, “but he’s coming around. I’ve seen him again. He has nothing to add to his first statement. He saw no one but the stewardess last night; he is willing to swear to that. I’ve had another whirl at Dover, the watchman, too. He now remembers seeing the doctor leave Murchison’s cabin. The incident made no impression on him, and he didn’t think of it before; it was just a part of routine to him, to see Brown in attendance somewhere or other. All in all, Jimmie, there is no escaping your conclusion, and I am prepared to accept it.”
“Yes,” replied Lavender, “it’s pretty certain; but the fellow must be made to betray himself. We haven’t enough to go on, as it is. It’s dangerously near being guesswork. You asked Crown about the baroness’s papers?”
“I did. He has them in safekeeping. Not a thing in them, he says, that gives us a clue.”
Lavender smiled. “There wouldn’t be,” he rejoined laconically. “Anyway, I’ve been through them twice, myself.”
“However, I told him of the fragment of paper Russell gave you,” continued Rittenhouse. “It startled him.”
“When are you going to tell me?” I demanded, at this juncture. “Where do I come in, Jimmie? Can I do nothing?”
Lavender turned to me very seriously.
“The fact is, Gilly,” he said, “you will be a much better witness in all that is to follow, if you know nothing for a while. You can do one thing, though; you can keep an eye on me! I mean it. The fat is in the fire, if I’m not mistaken, and from now on, I shall be a marked man. I shall go calmly about my business, as if all were well, and it is up to you and Rit to see that I don’t get a knife in my back, or something equally unpleasant. Rit and I know the murderer. The question is: does he know that we know? I don’t think he suspects Rit; but he may suspect me. And the more innocent you appear, Gilly, the better it will be all around. But keep your eyes open.”
“All right, Jimmie,” I replied obediently. But I was horrified by the turn the case was taking, and for a long time I sat and thought deeply, while the two curious fellows who were with me actually sat and talked about baseball.
Who, by any chance, could have committed the crime? Who had the opportunity? I faced the problem squarely, and admitted that there were plenty of persons who could have done it. In addition to the great numbers of obscure passengers, first and second class, who had not even been named in the inquiry, there were undoubtedly half a dozen principals who might very well be definite suspects. The second class outfit, I was inclined to disregard, for a second class passenger surely would have been noticed by one of the stewards, if he trespassed on holy ground. And yet, as I came to think of it, was there so much difference between a first and a second class passenger? Actually, I was forced to admit, there was none, so far as appearance was concerned. Of the principal figures, however, five at least, as I now numbered them, stood forth clearly as possibilities. All had been, or could have been, near the scene of the murder at the time it occurred
. And with something of a thrill, I realized that I must add young Russell to the list. I did not for a moment suspect him, but for that matter I hardly suspected any of the others.
And Lavender was in actual, active danger of one of them! Clearly, there was only one thing for me to do, and that was to watch everybody. I resolved to watch the entire ship, from the captain on down, not excluding Rittenhouse himself. Since I was to be Lavender’s guardian, by Heaven, I would suspect everybody!
In this frame of mind, I went to bed and dreamed a mad, fantastic dream in which the captain of the liner, which curiously had become a pirate ship, stole into Lavender’s stateroom and stabbed him with a fragment of paper, while the Baroness Borsolini joined hands with Rittenhouse and danced around them. Waking with a start, I sat up and listened. Finally, I knocked three times on the wall of my cabin, and listened again. After a pause, there came back to me Lavender’s reply, in similar code. And after this performance, I turned over and managed to get to sleep.
*****
THE morning of the fourth day broke clear and fair and cold. I went at once to Lavender’s room, to find him already up and gone. He did not appear until breakfast, and I had no opportunity to ask him where he had been; but it occurred to me that he was not playing fair. If I was to guard him against assassination, he ought at least to keep me posted as to his movements. So I thought.
Breakfast passed with the usual chatter about the uppermost subject in everybody’s mind, and at a table not far removed from ours sat Murchison, the Iowa clergyman, eating his first meal in the saloon. He looked pale and thin, but happy to be on earth and able to eat. Later, I saw him in conversation with the purser, and still later with the captain. Was he, then, the heart of the mystery, and were the coils beginning to tighten?
Lavender too had a brief talk with the captain, after which they vanished in company, while Rittenhouse and the purser talked in low tones at the door of the latter’s office. Obviously, something was afoot, and I felt strangely out in the cold. Then Mrs. Rittenbouse, and her sister, Miss Renshaw, corralled me, and for an hour I was forced to sing the praises of my friend Lavender to their admiring accompaniment.
After this, however, the suppressed excitement seemed to loosen up, and for an entire day the routine of ship life went quietly forward with only casual mention of the crime. Some gayety was even apparent in the lounges and in the smoking rooms, and I reflected sardonically on the adaptability and the callousness of human nature. The fifth day would be the last on board, for the sixth morning would bring us into port. It was this knowledge, I suppose, that cheered the passengers, although the Lord knew that the voyage had been anything but boresome.
When I asked Lavender what progress had been made, he answered merely that he was “waiting.”
*****
ON the fifth morning, I suddenly remembered that this was the anniversary of my birth — not a particularly significant occasion, Heaven knows, but at least a subject for trivial conversation. Lavender, however, greeted the tidings with singular enthusiasm, and promptly ordered a splendid dinner for the evening; Rittenhouse ordered wine during the afternoon, to drink my health, and Mrs. Rittenhouse and her sister embarrassed me immensely by presenting me with ridiculous speeches, with tiny bottles of perfume and of post-shaving lotion, purchased of the ship’s barber. The dinner went off with gusto, with everybody ordering champagne and making idiotic addresses, to which I lamely responded.
My humble birthday, indeed, was made an occasion for strained nerves to relax and for worried men to forget their problems. To cap the climax, when I went to my cabin in the evening, there was a gorgeously wrapped and tied box of cigars and cigarettes, with the captain’s card attached to it, and a huge box of candies, with the purser’s compliments similarly presented. I felt excessively guilty about these latter gifts, feeling as I did that they were intended to show appreciation of Lavender’s services. Lavender, however, only laughed and was pleased that my birthday should have passed off so well.
“Any occasion is good for a celebration, at sea,” he observed.
Late in the afternoon, we had dropped anchor in the outer harbor of Cherbourg, while a tender took off our passengers for Paris. Then, with a fresh breeze, we had headed for England and the end of the voyage. I had noted that, during the transfer of passengers for France, Lavender stood at the gangplank stretched between the steamers, and carefully observed every person who went aboard the tender. For a time, I had looked for fireworks, but apparently there was no call for his interference.
We sat late that night, upon the deck, the three of us, and for a time the purser made a quartette. It was with reluctance that Crown took his departure.
“We dock in the morning,” he said, as he prepared to go. “I’ve a nasty report to make to the company, Mr. Lavender. You haven’t anything to tell me that will make it easier?”
“The report will be full and complete,” replied my friend. “The murderer will be apprehended at quarantine, by Scotland Yard officials, and the jewels will be turned over at that time.”
Crown was startled and amazed.
“You don’t mean to say that — that you’ve got your man!”
“Not yet,” said Lavender, “but I shall certainly get him. Crown, he is one of the officers of this ship.”
The purser’s jaw dropped; his fat cheeks sagged. His eyes searched the eyes of Lavender.
“My God!” he said. “I’m almost afraid to ask you — who he is!”
Suddenly he got to his feet. “Will you come to my cabin?” he asked. “This is no place to discuss what you have to tell me.”
Lavender nodded his head and stood up. They moved off together in the direction of the forward deck.
“Ready, Gilruth!” said the Major, sharply, and I saw that his face was hard and set, his limbs braced. “After them quickly.”
The sudden intelligence seared my brain like a hot iron, and then I went cold. But Rittenhouse was already on his way, and mechanically I followed him.
We were none too soon. Lavender and the purser had barely disappeared beyond the cheek of the wireless cabin, when the huge criminal fell upon his companion. There was a shout, and then a scuffling of feet and the sound of blows. The next instant, Rittenhouse and I were on the scene.
In the deep shadow of the piled lifeboats, a desperate struggle was in progress, with the rail and the water dangerously close. Even as we reached them, the wrestlers pitched toward the edge; the great bulk of the purser was forcing the slimmer figure of Lavender back over the rail. I heard the cold rush of the water, and the heaving breathing of the combatants. The wind snatched away my cap, and tingling spray beat upon my face.
Then Rittenhouse was upon the purser like a wolf, and with cleared wits I was beside him, aiding.
The powerful Crown fought like a maniac, but the odds were now against him, and slowly we wore him down. Haggard and disheveled, he struggled to the last. At length, Rittenhouse tripped him and brought him down with a thud that seemed to shake the deck. Kneeling on the great heaving chest of the beaten man, the Major forced the purser’s wrists together, while Lavender snapped on bracelets of steel. As the struggle ended, Captain Rogers and his first officer ran up out of the shadows.
“Mr. Crown, Mr. Crown,” panted the captain, “what is the meaning of this?”
But as the purser could only glare and foam, Lavender, slightly breathless, replied for him.
“It means, sir,” said he, “that Mr. Crown has just been frustrated in an attempt to throw me overboard. Major Rittenhouse and Mr. Gilruth prevented him. As I explained to you, our actual evidence was slight, and it became necessary to force Mr. Crown to incriminate himself. The attempted murder of James E. Lavender will do for the present charge. Later it will be changed to something more serious.”
The first officer was incredulous.
/>
“Do you mean,” he began, “that Mr. Crown had anything to do with —?”
“I believe the murder of the Baroness Borsolini to have been accidental,” answered Lavender. “None the less, it was Mr. Crown who committed the crime.”
Suddenly the fat face of the prostrate man wrinkled like that of a child, and the great frame began to heave. Then sobs of anguish broke from the lips, and incredible tears rolled down the massive cheeks.
“I didn’t mean to kill her,” sobbed the purser. “I swear to God, Captain, it was an accident! I never meant to kill her. So help me God, it was an accident!”
*****
V
WITH the purser safely locked in his room, under heavy guard, Lavender, in the captain’s cabin, repeated the tale as chronologically it should be told.
“The Baroness Borsolini,” said he, “was really Kitty Desmond, a well-known adventuress. Crown has made a full confession to me and to Rittenhouse. Miss Desmond was made the repository of the stolen Schuyler jewels, and sent to England with them, where they were to be sold, I imagine, and the money divided. She recognized me when I came on board, and wondered if I were on her trail. It worried her, and she made the bold play of coming to me with a cock-and-bull story of attempted theft, in order to find out what I knew and, if I knew nothing, to gain my sympathies. I am convinced that there was no attempt on her room, the first night.
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