Five Fatal Words by Edwin Balmer & Philip Wylie Page A
Authors: Edwin Balmer & Philip Wylie
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with myself that they meant nothing; but not even you can doubt it now, after a message like it came to Uncle Everitt and he immediately was killed."
"Of course, I don't doubt it."
"Well, I got the same sort of feeling when I noticed how the names could be arranged in order. I tried to tell myself it was purely accidental; it meant nothing; but I couldn't forget it. But perhaps I should have kept it to myself."
"Not from me," Melicent put in quickly. "But I certainly wouldn't mention it to your aunt."
"I've no idea of it."
"How did you happen to notice that possible arrangement of the names? Did anything occur to call your attention to it?"
"No, I was just mulling over what happened--how my father, Daniel, was killed; then Uncle Everitt followed him, and now we are going to Aunt Alice. Then I thought of Theodore and Hannah."
"But Lydia is another name," objected Melicent. "Quite. Aunt Lydia seems to be left out. I was wondering what that might mean."
"So you feel sure that this--it-whatever it is--does mean something?"
He jumped up and, facing her, held out both his hands, seizing hers and pulling her to her feet. "Let's walk. What little hands you have. I like little hands, if they're long. . . . How many times about the deck makes a mile? Somebody on board always knows. He'll be English and doing twenty laps, at least. By the way, did I tell you that my Aunt Alice married an Englishman? She's a widow now, but I've cousins . . . you'll meet them. They're the reason that Aunt Alice wants to outlive the rest of her generation, so she can get all the money and leave it to her children. Quite English. . . . As I said, you'll meet them. . . ."
They began their walk about the deck and soon sighted Granger, who happened to be making the rounds in the opposite direction, and who was alone. They greeted him and passed on.
"You like him?" Donald Cornwall demanded, rather suddenly, of Melicent after they were out of earshot.
"Yes," said Melicent. "I like him."
"So do I," agreed Donald promptly. "Useful he was, I'll say, the night the house burned. Doesn't think first of saving his skin if anything's going on. But--well, lack of curiosity is not one of his sterling qualities."
Melicent smiled. "What would you think of a man knowing as much as he must know of your family affairs," she defended him, "and not being--curious?"
Donald did not reply directly. "How much does he know, do you think? Does he know, for instance, about the messages?"
"I've not told him," said Melicent.
"You won't, of course."
"No. Of course not."
"And that order of the family names I mentioned," Donald went on. "Let's keep that strictly between ourselves."
"Of course."
They did a measured mile about the deck, passing Granger several times. And then Melicent went below to Miss Cornwall, who observed: "You've been walking with my nephew."
"Yes."
"I was right, was I not? Something new has happened which he is keeping from me?"
"Nothing of any importance has happened, I'm sure," Melicent replied, to which Miss Cornwall countered: "Then he hasn't told you. It's getting rougher, isn't it?"
"I believe it is."
"I was afraid so. I am not a good sailor."
Melicent discovered, to her great relief, that she herself was a good sailor, the ship's motion distressed her not at all, although by late afternoon the wind had increased to a blow which raised such a sea that the decks were almost deserted, but Granger was on deck and as soon as he was alone he joined her.
"What's going on?" he challenged her without preliminary, as one saving time.
"What--where?" she returned.
"Where you are, on the inside," he said jealously. "What's he been telling you--Donald Cornwall?"
He was so frank and emphatic that she liked him and she liked also his blond head and blue eyes so accusing of her.
"He's been telling me," Melicent replied, "about his aunt, to whom we're going, and her family. She's a widow--her husband was
"Of course, I don't doubt it."
"Well, I got the same sort of feeling when I noticed how the names could be arranged in order. I tried to tell myself it was purely accidental; it meant nothing; but I couldn't forget it. But perhaps I should have kept it to myself."
"Not from me," Melicent put in quickly. "But I certainly wouldn't mention it to your aunt."
"I've no idea of it."
"How did you happen to notice that possible arrangement of the names? Did anything occur to call your attention to it?"
"No, I was just mulling over what happened--how my father, Daniel, was killed; then Uncle Everitt followed him, and now we are going to Aunt Alice. Then I thought of Theodore and Hannah."
"But Lydia is another name," objected Melicent. "Quite. Aunt Lydia seems to be left out. I was wondering what that might mean."
"So you feel sure that this--it-whatever it is--does mean something?"
He jumped up and, facing her, held out both his hands, seizing hers and pulling her to her feet. "Let's walk. What little hands you have. I like little hands, if they're long. . . . How many times about the deck makes a mile? Somebody on board always knows. He'll be English and doing twenty laps, at least. By the way, did I tell you that my Aunt Alice married an Englishman? She's a widow now, but I've cousins . . . you'll meet them. They're the reason that Aunt Alice wants to outlive the rest of her generation, so she can get all the money and leave it to her children. Quite English. . . . As I said, you'll meet them. . . ."
They began their walk about the deck and soon sighted Granger, who happened to be making the rounds in the opposite direction, and who was alone. They greeted him and passed on.
"You like him?" Donald Cornwall demanded, rather suddenly, of Melicent after they were out of earshot.
"Yes," said Melicent. "I like him."
"So do I," agreed Donald promptly. "Useful he was, I'll say, the night the house burned. Doesn't think first of saving his skin if anything's going on. But--well, lack of curiosity is not one of his sterling qualities."
Melicent smiled. "What would you think of a man knowing as much as he must know of your family affairs," she defended him, "and not being--curious?"
Donald did not reply directly. "How much does he know, do you think? Does he know, for instance, about the messages?"
"I've not told him," said Melicent.
"You won't, of course."
"No. Of course not."
"And that order of the family names I mentioned," Donald went on. "Let's keep that strictly between ourselves."
"Of course."
They did a measured mile about the deck, passing Granger several times. And then Melicent went below to Miss Cornwall, who observed: "You've been walking with my nephew."
"Yes."
"I was right, was I not? Something new has happened which he is keeping from me?"
"Nothing of any importance has happened, I'm sure," Melicent replied, to which Miss Cornwall countered: "Then he hasn't told you. It's getting rougher, isn't it?"
"I believe it is."
"I was afraid so. I am not a good sailor."
Melicent discovered, to her great relief, that she herself was a good sailor, the ship's motion distressed her not at all, although by late afternoon the wind had increased to a blow which raised such a sea that the decks were almost deserted, but Granger was on deck and as soon as he was alone he joined her.
"What's going on?" he challenged her without preliminary, as one saving time.
"What--where?" she returned.
"Where you are, on the inside," he said jealously. "What's he been telling you--Donald Cornwall?"
He was so frank and emphatic that she liked him and she liked also his blond head and blue eyes so accusing of her.
"He's been telling me," Melicent replied, "about his aunt, to whom we're going, and her family. She's a widow--her husband was
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