whether any passenger on this boat got an injury along the lines you’ve heard described. Be discreet, burn you! or I’ll have your stripes. Then report to Mr. Morgan. Now I’ve done all I can for you,” he snapped, turning round, “and I’ll bid you good night. But, mind I expect co-operation. CO-OPERATION . I’ve done a good deal already, and if so much as one word of all this is breathed, God help you! … And you want to know the truth, Mr. Warren,” said Captain Whistler, his Cyclops eye suddenly bulging past all control, “I think you’re mad, sir. I THINK YOU’RE STARK, RAVING MAD , and these people are shielding you. One more questionable action, sir, just one more questionable action, and into a strait-waistcoat you go. That’s all !!!’&—£&&’”£&£⅔ 1 / 4 ⅔¾⅛!!!???! … Good night.”
The door closed with a dignified slam, and they were alone.
Brooding, Morgan stared at the floor and chewed at the stem of his empty pipe. Besides, his eyes would keep wandering to the berth; and he did not like to think of that. The Queen Victoria was pitching less heavily now, so that you could feel the monotonous vibration of the screw. Morgan felt cold and unutterably tired. He jumped as voices began to sing and glanced up dully. Peggy Glenn and Curtis Warren, with seraphic expressions on their faces (at two o’clock in the morning) had their heads together and their arms round each other’s shoulders; they were swaying slowly as they uplifted throats in harmony:
“Oh, a life on the ocean wave [sang these worthies]
A ho-ome on the ro-olling deep …!
A life on the ocean wave …”
“Shut it, will you?” said Morgan, as Captain Valvick uttered a hoot of approval and joined his unmusical bass to the chorus. “Aside from the fact that there are people hereabouts trying to sleep, you’ll have the captain back in here.”
This threat quieted them in the middle of a bar. But they shook hands all around, gleefully, and Warren insisted on shaking Morgan’s hand in a shoulder-cracking grip. The Englishman studied them: Valvick draping himself affably over the washstand, and Peggy and Warren chortling on the berth. He wondered if they had any idea what had really happened. He also wondered if it would be wise to tell them.
“Boy,” said Warren in admiration, “I don’t mind telling you it was a swell piece of work. It was great. It was the nuts .” He waggled his hand high in the air and brought it down on his knee. “That crack about elephants and bears, and the horrible threat to spill the beans on that incorrigible souse, Captain Whistler … yee! Great! You are hereby elected Brains of this concern. Henceforth anything you say goes. As for me, I’m going to be good, and how. You heard what the old sea-terrier said.”
“Au, sure,” agreed Valvick, with a ponderous gesture. “But it iss going to be all right in de morning. He find de emerald. Whoever hass de cabin where Miss Peggy trow it in iss going to wake up in de morning and see it. And dere you be.”
Warren sat up, impressed by this new thought. “By the way, Baby, whose cabin did you throw it in, anyway?”
“How should I know?” she asked, rather defensively. “I don’t know who has every cabin on the deck. It was just a convenient porthole, and I sort of obeyed the impulse. What difference does it make?”
“Well, I was only wondering … ” He peered at the light, at a corner of the roof, at the wardrobe door. “I—that is, I don’t suppose by any chance you heaved it on somebody to whom it would—er—prove a temptation?”
“Coroosh!” said Captain Valvick.
By one accord they looked at Morgan. The latter would have immensely enjoyed the throne to which this trio of genial idiots had elected him, that of Brains in the combine to catch the joker, if it were not for that disturbing, nagging doubt which was apparently shared by none of his lieutenants. He did not want to examine that berth, and yet he knew he
The door closed with a dignified slam, and they were alone.
Brooding, Morgan stared at the floor and chewed at the stem of his empty pipe. Besides, his eyes would keep wandering to the berth; and he did not like to think of that. The Queen Victoria was pitching less heavily now, so that you could feel the monotonous vibration of the screw. Morgan felt cold and unutterably tired. He jumped as voices began to sing and glanced up dully. Peggy Glenn and Curtis Warren, with seraphic expressions on their faces (at two o’clock in the morning) had their heads together and their arms round each other’s shoulders; they were swaying slowly as they uplifted throats in harmony:
“Oh, a life on the ocean wave [sang these worthies]
A ho-ome on the ro-olling deep …!
A life on the ocean wave …”
“Shut it, will you?” said Morgan, as Captain Valvick uttered a hoot of approval and joined his unmusical bass to the chorus. “Aside from the fact that there are people hereabouts trying to sleep, you’ll have the captain back in here.”
This threat quieted them in the middle of a bar. But they shook hands all around, gleefully, and Warren insisted on shaking Morgan’s hand in a shoulder-cracking grip. The Englishman studied them: Valvick draping himself affably over the washstand, and Peggy and Warren chortling on the berth. He wondered if they had any idea what had really happened. He also wondered if it would be wise to tell them.
“Boy,” said Warren in admiration, “I don’t mind telling you it was a swell piece of work. It was great. It was the nuts .” He waggled his hand high in the air and brought it down on his knee. “That crack about elephants and bears, and the horrible threat to spill the beans on that incorrigible souse, Captain Whistler … yee! Great! You are hereby elected Brains of this concern. Henceforth anything you say goes. As for me, I’m going to be good, and how. You heard what the old sea-terrier said.”
“Au, sure,” agreed Valvick, with a ponderous gesture. “But it iss going to be all right in de morning. He find de emerald. Whoever hass de cabin where Miss Peggy trow it in iss going to wake up in de morning and see it. And dere you be.”
Warren sat up, impressed by this new thought. “By the way, Baby, whose cabin did you throw it in, anyway?”
“How should I know?” she asked, rather defensively. “I don’t know who has every cabin on the deck. It was just a convenient porthole, and I sort of obeyed the impulse. What difference does it make?”
“Well, I was only wondering … ” He peered at the light, at a corner of the roof, at the wardrobe door. “I—that is, I don’t suppose by any chance you heaved it on somebody to whom it would—er—prove a temptation?”
“Coroosh!” said Captain Valvick.
By one accord they looked at Morgan. The latter would have immensely enjoyed the throne to which this trio of genial idiots had elected him, that of Brains in the combine to catch the joker, if it were not for that disturbing, nagging doubt which was apparently shared by none of his lieutenants. He did not want to examine that berth, and yet he knew he
Similar Books
