to the port side of the ship and turned aft down the passageway, past more first-class suites and staterooms.
Other passengers were already on board, strolling around this area of the ship, many of the stateroom doors standing wide open to reveal chambermaids and valets unpacking trunks and suitcases. Tremayne spotted a distinguished-looking man walking towards them, a much younger lady, clearly several months pregnant, holding on to his arm. Maria nudged Tremayne as they passed in the corridor.
‘That’s Colonel John Jacob Astor,’ she murmured. ‘He’s one of the richest men in America. He could probably afford to buy this ship, not just buy a passage to America on it.’
‘And he’s travelling with his daughter, by the looks of it,’ Tremayne replied, glancing behind him at the couple.
Maria giggled. ‘That’s not his daughter,’ she said. ‘That’s Madeleine Talmage Force, his second wife. He’s forty-eight and she’s nineteen, and they married last year. It was a big scandal in the States, just him getting divorced, and when he married a girl who’s a year younger than his son from his first marriage, you could hear a drum roll of jaws dropping right across America. I think he came over to Europe to wait for the heat to die down.’
‘If he’s as rich as you say he is, I don’t suppose he’s too bothered about what people think of him.’
‘Probably not. That kind of wealth acts as a really good insulator against the world.’
‘These staterooms are some of the biggest on the ship,’ Alfred said, indicating the doors on the right-hand side as he continued down the corridor.
Astor wasn’t the only American Maria spotted. As they moved through the ship, she pointed out Benjamin Guggenheim, another millionaire who was accompanied, she said, by his mistress, as his wife and family were at their home in New York.
Alfred led them down the port-side passageway, showed them the barber’s shop and stopped for a few moments in the aft staircase lobby. Then he continued further down the passageway and stopped a few doors before the end.
‘This is the port side of the ship, the left side if you’re looking towards the bow, the front end,’ he said. ‘For the first day or so, finding your way around might be a bit tricky, just because of the size of this ship. One easy way you can tell which side of the vessel you’re on is by looking at the numbers. Everything on the port side – all the doors and openings and so on – are marked by even numbers, but on the starboard side, the right side, the numbers are odd. And the numbers start from the bow and increase as they get closer towards the stern. So if you remember those two points, you’ll always know which side of the ship you’re on and which way to turn to reach your destination.’
His introductory lecture over, the steward opened the door of one of the staterooms and stepped back to allow them to enter first.
‘This is very nice,’ Maria murmured, looking around her at the opulent surroundings. Tremayne had to agree with her. The stateroom looked like a luxury suite in a really good hotel, not that he was particularly familiar with the more upmarket establishments. It was difficult to believe they were on a ship at all: the only giveaway was the small window opposite the door of the stateroom. In a hotel, he would have expected French doors leading onto a terrace or balcony. Whatever the outcome of their mission, they were certainly going to be comfortable , and for a brief second or two Tremayne wished that the circumstances were different, that he and Maria were just on board the ship to enjoy the voyage, nothing more. But that, he knew, was not to be.
Mansfield Cumming had clearly not stinted on the cost of their accommodation, though he was certain that this was a case of operational necessity overriding budgetary considerations. To get close to Voss, they had to be able to move at will anywhere on the ship, which they could
Other passengers were already on board, strolling around this area of the ship, many of the stateroom doors standing wide open to reveal chambermaids and valets unpacking trunks and suitcases. Tremayne spotted a distinguished-looking man walking towards them, a much younger lady, clearly several months pregnant, holding on to his arm. Maria nudged Tremayne as they passed in the corridor.
‘That’s Colonel John Jacob Astor,’ she murmured. ‘He’s one of the richest men in America. He could probably afford to buy this ship, not just buy a passage to America on it.’
‘And he’s travelling with his daughter, by the looks of it,’ Tremayne replied, glancing behind him at the couple.
Maria giggled. ‘That’s not his daughter,’ she said. ‘That’s Madeleine Talmage Force, his second wife. He’s forty-eight and she’s nineteen, and they married last year. It was a big scandal in the States, just him getting divorced, and when he married a girl who’s a year younger than his son from his first marriage, you could hear a drum roll of jaws dropping right across America. I think he came over to Europe to wait for the heat to die down.’
‘If he’s as rich as you say he is, I don’t suppose he’s too bothered about what people think of him.’
‘Probably not. That kind of wealth acts as a really good insulator against the world.’
‘These staterooms are some of the biggest on the ship,’ Alfred said, indicating the doors on the right-hand side as he continued down the corridor.
Astor wasn’t the only American Maria spotted. As they moved through the ship, she pointed out Benjamin Guggenheim, another millionaire who was accompanied, she said, by his mistress, as his wife and family were at their home in New York.
Alfred led them down the port-side passageway, showed them the barber’s shop and stopped for a few moments in the aft staircase lobby. Then he continued further down the passageway and stopped a few doors before the end.
‘This is the port side of the ship, the left side if you’re looking towards the bow, the front end,’ he said. ‘For the first day or so, finding your way around might be a bit tricky, just because of the size of this ship. One easy way you can tell which side of the vessel you’re on is by looking at the numbers. Everything on the port side – all the doors and openings and so on – are marked by even numbers, but on the starboard side, the right side, the numbers are odd. And the numbers start from the bow and increase as they get closer towards the stern. So if you remember those two points, you’ll always know which side of the ship you’re on and which way to turn to reach your destination.’
His introductory lecture over, the steward opened the door of one of the staterooms and stepped back to allow them to enter first.
‘This is very nice,’ Maria murmured, looking around her at the opulent surroundings. Tremayne had to agree with her. The stateroom looked like a luxury suite in a really good hotel, not that he was particularly familiar with the more upmarket establishments. It was difficult to believe they were on a ship at all: the only giveaway was the small window opposite the door of the stateroom. In a hotel, he would have expected French doors leading onto a terrace or balcony. Whatever the outcome of their mission, they were certainly going to be comfortable , and for a brief second or two Tremayne wished that the circumstances were different, that he and Maria were just on board the ship to enjoy the voyage, nothing more. But that, he knew, was not to be.
Mansfield Cumming had clearly not stinted on the cost of their accommodation, though he was certain that this was a case of operational necessity overriding budgetary considerations. To get close to Voss, they had to be able to move at will anywhere on the ship, which they could
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