The Mask of Sumi by John Creasey

beamed at the child. “Did you see anyone coming along here just now?”
    â€œNo, I’m afraid I didn’t,” the woman said. “I’ve only just come from the ballroom.”
    â€œMummy, come on!” the tot urged.
    â€œI’ve promised to take her in for a swim,” the mother said. “She simply loves the water. And she must be hot, poor child.”
    She hurried past, brushing back her sweat-damp hair.
    Mannering went back to his cabin, very thoughtfully. It was bad enough to have been found out; but to think that someone else may have overheard what he and Naomi Ransom had said made the situation ever more delicate if not dangerous.
    Where had she been when he had searched O’Keefe’s cabin?
    Would he have been wiser to talk to her?
    He tried to persuade himself that he had proved that he could not easily be intimidated, and that could only be a good thing. He changed into borrowed swimming trunks, took a borrowed towel, and was about to put on the borrowed sandals when he realised that the woman might have left something here. He ran through the drawers and wardrobe, and his two cases. Everything seemed just as he had left it. He was still uneasy when he left his cabin.
    Upstairs, the deck was beginning to fill up again. Several people were in the pool, including the mother and tiny tot. He waited for a chance, and dived in cleanly. He came up at the other side of the little pool, next to a blonde whom he did not know well.
    â€œIsn’t it lovely?” she asked in a noticeably South African accent.
    â€œJust right,” he said.
    Then he saw Naomi Ransom, poised on the edge of the pool. Several men by the rails were watching her. She looked quite beautiful as she waited until a spot was clear, and then dived in. She made hardly a splash.
    Soon, she was treading water by Mannering’s side.
    â€œWhen can I make that appointment?” she asked.
    â€œShall we have a drink at seven o’clock in the smoking-room?”
    â€œThat sounds more amenable!” Immediately she had spoken she swam away from him.
    He got out, towelled gently to avoid sweating too much and ordered a whisky and soda. Pearl was sitting just outside the bar, with Nares.
    â€œHallo,” Mannering said. “So you two know each other.”
    â€œWe certainly do,” Nares said. He winked.
    â€œHave you been swimming?” asked Pearl.
    â€œJust a dip. Now I have to go and play deck tennis,” Mannering said. He disappeared into the blazing white sunlight, but did not go to the next deck for the sports; he hurried down to B Deck.
    Nares had a small, inside room – the kind of room a man without much money would have. The door was unlocked. Mannering stepped inside, knowing that a bath-boy and a cabin boy had seen him; but three doors led off here.
    The room was a shambles. At first, Mannering thought that someone must have searched here and turned it upside down. Soon he realised that this was normal for Nares. Shirts, trousers, swimsuits, and ties littered the bed, dressing-table, and chairs. Oddments of creams, tanning lotions and pomades cluttered the dressing-table, too; this was more like a woman’s room than a man’s.
    There were only three cases and a brief case. All were unlocked and each except the brief case was empty. He looked through the brief case. Inside were some letters from a tea planter in Nyasaland, confirming the offer of a post of overseer at two thousand pounds a year ‘all found’. Earlier letters referred to Nares’ lack of experience.
    Mannering put these all back.
    Nares was obviously hard up or he wouldn’t have taken such a job. A man in financial difficulties might do a lot of peculiar things for money.
    Mannering opened the only section of the brief case he hadn’t yet inspected. He unfolded a letter, and as he ran his eye down it, saw a paragraph which read:
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    â€œYou owe over three years’