thought it wise to pass on as soon as he could properly do so.
Certainly she was very attractive. Indeed, when at times he found his work was not progressing with its usual speed, he could not but be aware of the cause.
Four or five days later, as, before dinner, he was passing through the music-room lounge, he heard his name called. It was Major Stott, who was drinking cocktails with some companions.
“Here’s the officer who can arrange it for you,” he said to a tall, white-haired man with a rugged face standing next him. “When we came aboard, my daughter forgot some books in our house near Basingstoke. She told Morrison about them that night and they were here on board before lunch next day. That was at Scapa Flow. Jolly good, I call it.”
“Can you do the same for me, Mr Morrison?” asked the rugged-faced man. His name was Carrothers and Morrison thought he was a stockbroker. “I want a document from my office in Galashiels. Can you have it here before lunch tomorrow?”
Morrison smiled. “Not so easy, Mr Carrothers, seeing that you don’t live near Southampton. However, I dare say I can deflect one of our flying boats to the Forth and pick it up there. It’ll cost you something. You don’t mind?”
They discussed details and then Carrothers turned to the others. “In spite of my friend’s presence, I will admit that the transport to and from the ship is good,” he declared. “I was told to be ready to start from my house at ten in the morning. At nine fifty-nine a Daimler drew up at the door with a uniformed chauffeur. I got in and was driven to the pier at Leith. A launch was waiting and just as we got into open water a flying boat came down beside us. I climbed on board and we were on the
Hellenique
about half past twelve. That was at the Orkneys. Quite good, I call it, too.”
“Yes, those flying boats are an idea,” agreed a small, dried-up man with the face of a lawyer.
“There’s no doubt the cruise is well run,” said a third man, the Mr Forrester who had travelled to the ship with the Stotts. “But you people” – he looked at Morrison –“know how to charge. And yet even with the high charges I wonder it pays. It does pay, I suppose?”
“Oh, come now, Forrester, you mustn’t ask him for secret history,” Stott protested, evidently anxious to help Morrison out. “Not fair. Eh, Morrison?”
Morrison grinned. “I can’t tell you about our finances, Mr Forrester,” he explained, “for quite a good reason: I don’t know about them myself. All I know is that my salary’s been paid all right up to now, and I hope it’ll go on.”
“The main thing from your point of view, no doubt,” Carrothers put in. “And quite right, too.” Morrison smilingly agreed.
“It ought to pay all right if you’re not too lavish in your expenses,” Forrester went on. “It’s certainly a good idea. Whose was it, by the way? I mean, the idea?”
Rather an inquisitive man, this Forrester, Morrison thought. He had booked from London and was evidently in some business, but Morrison did not know what. He was mildly popular on board. He had played at the tables in moderation and had taken a number of the shore excursions. He had shown himself friendly to Morrison and had stopped on different occasions to chat, but sooner or later he had always begun to ask questions. Indeed, in some subtle way he gave the impression that he was on board for some deeper motive than mere pleasure.
It occurred to Morrison that perhaps he represented a group of people who thought of running a rival ship. Probably not a gambling ship – there would not be room for a second – but a cheap cruising ship, as Bristow had originally intended.
Morrison had wondered whether, if so, he might himself take a hand? His notes would be worth a substantial sum to anyone considering such a venture. Why should he not have a try for the money?
Obviously, if a rival to the
Hellenique’s
were proposed, he could have
Certainly she was very attractive. Indeed, when at times he found his work was not progressing with its usual speed, he could not but be aware of the cause.
Four or five days later, as, before dinner, he was passing through the music-room lounge, he heard his name called. It was Major Stott, who was drinking cocktails with some companions.
“Here’s the officer who can arrange it for you,” he said to a tall, white-haired man with a rugged face standing next him. “When we came aboard, my daughter forgot some books in our house near Basingstoke. She told Morrison about them that night and they were here on board before lunch next day. That was at Scapa Flow. Jolly good, I call it.”
“Can you do the same for me, Mr Morrison?” asked the rugged-faced man. His name was Carrothers and Morrison thought he was a stockbroker. “I want a document from my office in Galashiels. Can you have it here before lunch tomorrow?”
Morrison smiled. “Not so easy, Mr Carrothers, seeing that you don’t live near Southampton. However, I dare say I can deflect one of our flying boats to the Forth and pick it up there. It’ll cost you something. You don’t mind?”
They discussed details and then Carrothers turned to the others. “In spite of my friend’s presence, I will admit that the transport to and from the ship is good,” he declared. “I was told to be ready to start from my house at ten in the morning. At nine fifty-nine a Daimler drew up at the door with a uniformed chauffeur. I got in and was driven to the pier at Leith. A launch was waiting and just as we got into open water a flying boat came down beside us. I climbed on board and we were on the
Hellenique
about half past twelve. That was at the Orkneys. Quite good, I call it, too.”
“Yes, those flying boats are an idea,” agreed a small, dried-up man with the face of a lawyer.
“There’s no doubt the cruise is well run,” said a third man, the Mr Forrester who had travelled to the ship with the Stotts. “But you people” – he looked at Morrison –“know how to charge. And yet even with the high charges I wonder it pays. It does pay, I suppose?”
“Oh, come now, Forrester, you mustn’t ask him for secret history,” Stott protested, evidently anxious to help Morrison out. “Not fair. Eh, Morrison?”
Morrison grinned. “I can’t tell you about our finances, Mr Forrester,” he explained, “for quite a good reason: I don’t know about them myself. All I know is that my salary’s been paid all right up to now, and I hope it’ll go on.”
“The main thing from your point of view, no doubt,” Carrothers put in. “And quite right, too.” Morrison smilingly agreed.
“It ought to pay all right if you’re not too lavish in your expenses,” Forrester went on. “It’s certainly a good idea. Whose was it, by the way? I mean, the idea?”
Rather an inquisitive man, this Forrester, Morrison thought. He had booked from London and was evidently in some business, but Morrison did not know what. He was mildly popular on board. He had played at the tables in moderation and had taken a number of the shore excursions. He had shown himself friendly to Morrison and had stopped on different occasions to chat, but sooner or later he had always begun to ask questions. Indeed, in some subtle way he gave the impression that he was on board for some deeper motive than mere pleasure.
It occurred to Morrison that perhaps he represented a group of people who thought of running a rival ship. Probably not a gambling ship – there would not be room for a second – but a cheap cruising ship, as Bristow had originally intended.
Morrison had wondered whether, if so, he might himself take a hand? His notes would be worth a substantial sum to anyone considering such a venture. Why should he not have a try for the money?
Obviously, if a rival to the
Hellenique’s
were proposed, he could have
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