Dangerous Cargo (12 page)

“Have you seen that fellow Farman?” asked Horace.

“Not yet. He’s coming here later.”

“Coming here?” growled Horace. “A common sailor!”

“We’ll never get anywhere if you take that attitude. Bear in mind that
he’s a qualified master and superior to all of us while we’re at sea.”

“Can I be here when he comes?” Horace asked more humbly.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You’d spoil everything. This man has a right to feel injured, and I’ve
got to smooth him down before I can bring you together.”

“Well, all right,” he growled, “but you don’t have to treat me like dirt.
It makes me ugly.”

“Ugly?” said Mme. Storey, and I could see her eye-brows running up. “Never
mind that now,” she went on as one might speak to a child, “we have serious
matters to talk over…Have you come to any fresh understanding with Sophie
lately?”

There was a silence, then Horace’s reluctant voice:

“Why do you ask that?”

“Sophie seems to have been acting very peculiarly.”

“What do you mean?”

“When Celia expressed a doubt whether she loved you sufficiently to marry
you,” Mme. Storey put it thus diplomatically: “Sophie told her that she would
not force her to marry you.”

This brought Horace sharply to attention. “By God!” he cried, “if that’s
true…!”

“I assure you that it is quite true. Can you explain her sudden change of
front?”

No answer from Horace.

“What are your financial arrangements with Sophie?” she asked.

“Damn it, Rosy…!” he began to bluster.

She must simply have looked at him in that way she has. He quieted down
and answered the question.

“I’m not paying Sophie anything if that’s what you mean. Oh, their
dressmakers’ bills, and little favours of that sort. I simply agreed to make
a will in favour of Celia.”

“Yes, you told me that. What are the conditions of this will to be?”

“No conditions. After making bequests to Adrian, Adele and a few others, I
have left my whole estate unreservedly to Celia, provided she is my wife at
the time of my death, or is still engaged to marry me.”

“
Have left?
” said Mme. Storey sharply.

“Sure,” growled Horace with sullen reluctance, “I made out the will and
signed it a couple of days ago.”

It was Mme. Storey’s turn to be amazed then.

“Good heavens!” she murmured.

There was a long silence in the next room.

“What are you getting at?” Horace demanded ill-temperedly. “Are you trying
to make out that Sophie has murderous designs against me?”

“Consider what a temptation you have put in her way!” said Mme. Storey
quietly. “All those millions to play with—
and freedom for the
girl!
”

Another silence. Horace was growling indistinctly.

“Which one of you suggested the clause about ‘still engaged to me’?” Mme.
Storey asked crisply.

“I don’t know. Sophie very likely. What of it? It’s ridiculous to suspect
her of plotting to murder me. I know Sophie. She’s as crooked as a ram’s
horn, but hardly murderous.”

“How can you tell?” said Mme. Storey. “I have felt murderous.”

“You!” he growled. “God, yes! You could do a murder. Magnificently. But
not Sophie. She’s only a cat with claws.”

“Maybe the claws are poisoned.”

“Nothing to it!”

“What induced you to make a new will just at this time?” she asked.

“Oh, Sophie was always after me,” he grumbled. “First about Adele, then
about you.”

“About me!”

“Yes. She was sharp enough to see that I was falling for you before I
realised it myself. She said it was insulting to her and Celia for me to be
making up to other women right in front of them. So I made the will to shut
her up. After all I’m going to marry the girl eventually.”

“Did you have assistance in making it?”

“No, I wrote it myself on the typewriter.”

“Who witnessed it?”

“My valet. But I didn’t let him know what it was. It will hold all right
until I can consult my attorney.”

“Have you told Adrian about your change of mind?”

“No. Why should I?”

“To remove a possible temptation.”

“Oh, God!” said Horace with his scornful laugh. “First you have Sophie
plotting to murder me, then Adrian!”

“Just the same I advise it,” said Mme. Storey dryly. “…Where is the new
will now?”

“I gave it to Sophie. I have a copy in my pocket. I wanted to show it to
you because I have put down your name.”

“My name!” she cried in great surprise.

There was a silence while Horace, I suppose, produced the will and she
read it. Suddenly he said:

“What are you doing? What are you striking out your name for?”

“I don’t choose to be listed with these other ladies,” she said.

“Well, you’re down in the original,” he growled. “You can’t change
that.”

“If your executors insist on handing me the money I’ll use it to found a
school for spoiled children,” she said, and I could see her smiling. “It’s a
pet idea of mine…In the meantime, I’ll keep this copy to show them what my
sentiments were.”

When Horace spoke again his voice was thick with rage. “By God! no woman
has ever spoken to me like that!”

“Then it’s time one did,” she retorted.

“I’m not just an ordinary man,” he cried. “I count for something in these
days. Is it nothing to you that I am crazy about you, that I…”

“Don’t be silly,” she interrupted with devastating good humour. “I’m not
another Adele nor a Sophie. I am not overwhelmed by your millions, because I
can make all the money I need to supply my own wants and incidentally keep my
freedom.”

“By God! you can’t treat me like this! I’ll show you…!”

“Bella!” she said crisply.

I opened the door and went in. Mme. Storey was seated in an easy chair
beside a porthole. Horace stood over her threateningly. He gave me a
poisonous glance and slammed out into the corridor. Mme. Storey laughed, but
I could not join her. She lit a cigarette with a steady hand.

“Could you hear?” she asked.

“Nearly every word.”

“Good! Put it down before you forget it. Some day you may be required to
testify to it.”

WE were still in the sitting-room of our suite when the
trumpet sounded on deck for luncheon. Instantly a strong feeling of
excitement took possession of me, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off the door.
Mme. Storey smiled provokingly.

“Listening for his footsteps,” she murmured.

Time passed and nothing happened. The minutes were like hours. It was
impossible to sit still.

“He isn’t coming!” I said.

Almost as I spoke the door opened without a sound. Les Farman slipped in
and closed it behind him. He snatched off his cap, and stood against the door
smiling at us. “Made it!” he said. “I had to look sharp and get everybody
placed.”

Blond and blue-eyed as a Viking, his shoulders were so broad you didn’t
realise how tall he was until you compared him with the size of the door. He
had the calm smile of the man who is sure of his own strength. The most
attractive thing about him was that although he only rated as a common
seaman, he was not in the least afraid of us. Mme. Storey made no secret of
the pleasure it gave her just to look at him.

“Sit down,” she said.

He looked a little surprised.

“Sit down…Captain.”

He flushed with pleasure and dropped into a chair as if he was perfectly
accustomed to sitting in the presence of ladies.

“Out on deck discipline must be maintained,” she went on, “but in private
there is no reason why we should not act as we feel. I always think of you as
an officer.”

He said nothing, but from that moment he was hers.

“We shall have to be brief,” she continued, “because Bella and I have to
show ourselves at the lunch table within a few minutes…This morning, when I
sent Jim to try to get in touch with you, he brought back word that you
wanted to see me.”

“That’s right,” said Les.

“What about?”

He answered her question by asking another; “Has the boss told you what
port we are going to make next?”

“No. Nobody aboard seems to know.”

“That’s right,” said Les grimly. “He aims to keep us at sea until he has
us cowed…Can you make him call at one of the islands?”

“How can I tell?…Why?”

“This is what I wanted to say to you,” said Les strongly. “Get ashore off
this hell ship! You and the young lady yonder. There are no strings on you
two. You have no call to tie up to Laghet. Make him fetch port somewhere and
go ashore. Don’t matter if it’s one of the forgotten islands where steamships
never call. Get ashore!”

“Why?” she asked again.

“Don’t ask me that,” he muttered.

“You mean you don’t want to betray your shipmates.”

“Well, I haven’t said I’d go in with them neither.”

“Horace Laghet is my client,” said Mme. Storey with apparent irrelevance.
“Or, if you like, my employer for the present, consequently I have to speak
of him with a certain discretion. But you can form your own conclusions.”

He grinned in his attractive fashion.

“I get you. You agree with me that he’s a first-class you-know-what, but
you can’t say it.”

She laughed. “Are you willing to tell me what has happened to you
personally aboard this ship?”

“Sure. There’s no secret about that…From the day we left New York I
could feel that there was trouble brewing aboard. There’s a kind of crooked
ring amongst the men, but I’m outside of it. Well, I’m not an officer now and
it’s none of my business. I closed my eyes and ears to it and just did my
job.”

“Were you friendly with Holder?”

“No more than with the others. There’s a certain element amongst the men
made a kind of pet of Holder…Yesterday when the boss hustled me on the
after deck the news got forward before I did. They made a kind of hero of me.
Not that I give a darn. I’m just telling you. All slapping me on the back,
and telling me they were with me and so on.”

“Then there was last night on the boat deck,” he continued. “You did the
right thing in taking Holder’s gun. That was sufficient. They had been
feeding him coke, I believe, until he was crazy. And when Laghet threw him to
the sharks I saw red. But I should have kept my mouth shut.”

“And it made you a bigger hero than ever with the men!” she put in.

“Sure,” he muttered. “I’m ashamed of it…I was on watch until morning.
About two bells when it was just beginning to get light, the boss came on
deck and ordered Niederhoff to tie me up. I could have raised the crew right
then, but I didn’t. I let him tie me. Niederhoff was afraid to refuse. The
boss ordered all hands on deck. He was like a crazy man.”

“I know what happened after that,” said Mme. Storey. “The captain came and
tried to stop him—or made believe to try.”

Les gave her a shrewd look. “Yeah,” he said dryly. “And when I turned in
to sleep at eight bells I found a loaded gun in my bunk. There was a little
piece of paper fastened around it with elastic. On the paper was printed in
pencil: ‘Don’t hesitate to use this. We’re all behind you.’”

“Have you got that paper?”

“No. Tossed it out the port.”

“Have you got the gun?”

“Sure.” He coolly produced it from his hip.

Mme. Storey examined it and smiled. “I’d like to keep this for evidence,”
she said. “I’ll give you a gun of mine in place of it.”

“Don’t want it,” said Les carelessly. “I can always take care of
myself.”

Nevertheless, she insisted on getting him an automatic from the table
drawer. “You may need it to defend somebody else,” she said.

Les gave her a steady look and dropped the gun in his pocket.

Mme. Storey handed me his gun saying: “Mark it ‘Gun given up by Les
Farman’ and put it with the two I took from Harry Holder.” To Les she said:
“Is there anything else?”

“One thing more,” he said in his calm way. “When I wake up I have a little
time to myself before dinner. I always spend it lying in my bunk reading. The
book is always lying face down and open on a little shelf at the foot of my
bunk. When I picked it up there was another pencil message printed on the
margin of the page. It said: ‘Stand by the porthole of steward’s stores at
six-thirty to-night and listen.’”

“What does that mean?” asked Mme. Storey.

“Steward’s stores is the last door on the right of the corridor outside,”
he said pointing. “It was designed for a stateroom, but it’s an undesirable
room because the ports open on the well deck instead of the sea. So the
steward has taken it for his cabin stores; blankets and so on.”

“And you’re to stand outside that room at six-thirty to receive some
communication.”

“Yes. At six-thirty the men will be at their supper.”

Mme. Storey flicked the ash off her cigarette. “Well, are you going to
join the crooked ring?” she asked casually.

Farman drew his straight brows together and said nothing.

“Laghet has given the men plenty of cause to hate him,” she went on, “but
hardly sufficient cause for them to mutiny. You’re an intelligent man. It
must have occurred to you that there is somebody behind all this; somebody
who has it in for Laghet.”

“Sure!”

“Are you going to fall for it?”

No answer.

“You haven’t asked me why I sent for you?” she said.

He looked at her inquiringly.

“Horace Laghet wishes to offer you his hand and to ask you to forget what
happened this morning.”

“What!” he cried, staring. “…You put him up to this!”

She shrugged. “Why go behind the appearance of the thing? He is willing to
do it.”

“No!” cried Les. The blue eyes glittered like ice in the sun. “It’s just a
hypocritical pretence! I won’t fall for it. I know his kind. In the very act
of offering me his hand he’d look at me in such a way I’d want to smash his
face!”