The Island Where Time Stands Still (24 page)

‘Thank you, Sir.' Foo stood up with the polite intention of showing that he did not wish to outstay his welcome, and added with a bow, ‘Your assurance that we are really going to China is a great comfort, and will give me new courage to bear my present hard lot.'

As Gregory got to his feet, he said: ‘Tell me, what was your job before you left San Francisco?'

Foo hesitated only a second, then replied, ‘I was a clerk, Sir, in a surveyor's office.'

‘Have you had experience in any other kind of work?'

‘I am not a bad mechanic, and for a time I acted as chauffeur to an old lady who lived up on Nob Hill.'

‘Anything else?'

‘I have sometimes taken night work as a barman. People are kind enough to say that my Old Fashioneds are very good.'

Gregory smiled. ‘You make my mouth water. But I'm afraid we couldn't find much use for a shaker of cocktails as, apart from carrying light wines, this is a dry ship. Bar-tending is not far off waiting, though; so I take it you could do that.'

Foo's pleasant young face suddenly lit up. ‘Do … do you mean, Sir, that you will try to get me taken out of the stoke-hold?'

‘I'm only a passenger, so I can promise nothing; but I'll see what I can do. Now off you go, and try to keep your chin up.'

With many expressions of gratitude Foo bowed himself away, and Gregory began to undress. As he did so, he felt that he had been rather rash to raise the young man's hopes at all, for he knew only too well the strange contradictions of the Chinese character, which could make the same man the very essence of kindness about one thing and callous
almost beyond belief about another, so good natured as Captain Ah-moi appeared to be, his reactions to a request for Foo's transfer were quite unpredictable.

However, Gregory was determined to do his utmost, not only for Foo's sake but for his own. Since they had sailed from San Francisco, Wu-ming had shown him no open hostility, but he felt certain that it was only latent; and the curious sixth sense, which had often stood him in good stead, repeatedly warned him that at any time, driven to desperation by A-lu-te's obvious preference for his company, the Chinaman might make another attempt upon his life. The strain of living from day to day under such a menace was considerable, and he felt that it might at least be eased a little if he had someone like young Foo, who, bound to him by gratitude, could be relied on to act as watch-dog should he find that the lock on his cabin door had been tampered with, or have any other reason to think that Wu-ming meant to attack him while he slept.

Next morning, having waited patiently for a suitable opportunity, he tackled the Captain and told him of his encounter with the stowaway. As he had feared might prove the case, Ah-moi appeared quite unmoved by Foo's suffering at the hands of the chief stoker, and simply said that he never interfered with his petty officers provided they did not become slack.

Gregory was shrewd enough not to press the point, but skilfully shifted the attack to another angle. He said, quite untruthfully, that he had always previously travelled with a personal servant, and on the trip to San Francisco had greatly missed having one. When they sailed again he had hoped that Tsai-Ping's man, Che-khi, might be given to him, but he had been taken over by Wu-ming; so he still had to brush his own clothes and perform other menial tasks unfitting for a gentleman. As the stowaway was superfluous to the ship's company, and a type that could be trained to such duties, could he not have the use of him?

That put the matter on an entirely different footing. Ah-moi both liked Gregory and, in spite of his curiously anomalous
position, regarded him as an equal. He at once apologised for his lack of thought in having allowed his passenger to suffer such inconvenience for so long, and promised to give orders for Foo to be put at his disposal.

After lunch the chief steward brought Foo, now dressed in a suit of white drills somewhat too large for him, along to Gregory's cabin. There, Gregory explained his new duties, and the beaming young man set about tidying his things with a will.

During the six days that followed, no event occurred to mar the serenity of the voyage. For hours each day, while A-lu-te talked with Gregory, played Mah-jong with Kâo, or flirted mildly with one or other of the officers, Wu-ming sat, making only an occasional contribution to the conversation but all the time devouring her with a wide-eyed unwinking stare. By now she had got so used to his obsession for her that she was no longer irritated by it, and treated him with the casual kindness that one extends to a half-witted child. But Gregory did not regard him in that way at all; and, although their relationship continued outwardly quite friendly, he watched the Export Manager's comings and goings like a lynx.

Foo had been acting as Gregory's servant for a week when, on their second Wednesday at sea, as was now his custom while his master was changing for dinner he brought him the nearest approach he could make to a cocktail. It was made of Californian white wine and fresh orange juice with a slice of a green lime. Setting it down on the fixed dressing-table, he left the cabin.

Having finished brushing his hair Gregory picked up the cocktail to drink it. He had already taken half a mouthful when he saw that a mosquito had alighted on the back of his hand. Setting the glass down quickly, he gave the insect a smack that killed it just as it stung him.

Next moment he felt a burning sensation in his chest. His eyes bulged and he gasped for air. From the mirror his own horribly distorted face grimaced at him. Clutching his chest, he reeled away towards the bed and fell upon it. As his sight
dimmed and failed, as though he had suddenly been struck with blindness, one grim thought flashed through his mind.

Wittingly or unwittingly, the very man whom he had counted upon to help protect him if called upon to do so had brought him poison.

As Gregory squirmed upon the bed he knew that his only hope lay in getting rid of the poison he had swallowed. With a great effort he managed to sit up and push his finger down his throat. He was sick on the floor; but that did not relieve the tearing pains in his chest, and his stomach now felt as if it were on fire.

Groaning he fell back again. As he had been sitting sideways on the bed his head came down with a hard thud against the wall of the cabin. What the poison had begun, the blow completed. He lost consciousness of his surroundings, although he still knew himself to be moaning and twisting in agony.

For how long he lay as though in a black pit, submerged under waves of pain, he had no idea. It was the sound of an exclamation which made him open his eyes. He could see again, but tears and sweat running into them partially obscured his vision. As through a mist he saw Wu-ming's face poised about eighteen inches above his own.

The sight of the Chinaman bending above him jerked his mind back into full consciousness. Gripped by renewed terror of death he stared upward. It flashed upon him that there could be only one explanation for Wu-ming's presence. He must have come to make sure that his victim was dead, and by taking away the cocktail glass remove the only evidence that he had been murdered. And now, finding that his enemy was still alive, but helpless, surely he would seize the opportunity to finish him off while he had him at his mercy.

Gregory's immediate impulse was to thrust up his hands, grasp Wu-ming's arms and, while grappling with him, shout for help; but he managed to check it. His throat was so exhausted
from the effects of the poison that in a fight the odds must prove heavily against him. But he could feel some strength ebbing back into his limbs, and fear was making his brain work swiftly.

Frantically he wondered what means the jealousy-crazed Chinaman would use to kill him. It was very unlikely that so sophisticated a man would carry a knife; and, if he were, to use it would be to betray himself as the murderer. The same objection applied to strangulation, for it was certain that the marks on his victim's throat would be noticed and give away the fact that death had not been caused by a stroke or sudden seizure. Suffocation with a pillow would lead to blackening of the face, so also cast on him immediate suspicion. But there remained the posion. If he could manage to force his victim to swallow even another half mouthful, that would probably do the trick.

These thoughts raced through Gregory's mind in less than half a minute. During it he had remained absolutely rigid, and although he was not aware of it his staring eyes gave the impression that he was in a fit. Without speaking to him Wu-ming straightened up and turned away.

Gregory felt certain he was about to fetch the poison from the dressing-table. Gathering his strength he swung his legs off the bed and sat up. His head began to swim but, stretching out his hand, he grasped a heavy torch that lay on his bed-side shelf. At that moment the cabin door opened and Foo came in.

The sweat was streaming down Gregory's face and his mouth sagged open. It was possible that, believing him to be at dinner, Foo had come to tidy the cabin; but his appearance on the scene might have a very different explanation. Gregory's heart suddenly began to thud with even greater apprehension. It was Foo who had brought him the poisoned cocktail. If his young protégé had been suborned by Wu-ming and was his accomplice the game was up. He might have fought off Wu-ming alone, but in his present state he could not possibly prove a match for the two of them.

Foo's face showed blank surprise; but that might have
been at finding Gregory still alive. On hearing Gregory move Wu-ming swung round and stared at him. His eyes were bloodshot, his face demoniac with pain, strain and fear. Suddenly he found his voice. It came half strangled at first then rose to a shout as he brandished the heavy torch:

‘Stay where you are! I'll brain the first of you who tries to lay a hand on me!'

The cabin door was still open and his raised voice could have been heard by anyone passing along the deck outside. Wu-ming and Foo exchanged a swift glance of consternation, then the former said, ‘He must have had some form of fit and gone out of his mind.'

‘I'm not out of my mind!' Gregory cried angrily.

‘Then why do you threaten us?' Wu-ming asked. ‘It must be that a demon has got into you.'

Gregory glared at him. ‘You know what's the matter with me, or you wouldn't be here.'

Wu-ming's expression remained blank and he shook his head. ‘When you did not come in to dinner, we wondered what had happened to you; and I volunteered to find out. Since you will not let me help you, I will go and tell the others of the strange manner in which you have been afflicted.'

As he turned on his heel and left the cabin, Foo stepped forward again. He looked so genuinely distressed that Gregory now felt doubt of his complicity. It might be that he owed his life to Foo's timely arrival, as it had occurred well before he had recovered his power to shout for help. Yet it was Foo who had brought him the poison. It was possible that during the past few days Wu-ming had been working secretly upon him, learned his story, and promised to have him put safely ashore when they reached China in return for his unquestioning obedience

Gregory's previous experience of such matters had taught him that if Foo were guilty, he would be much more likely to give himself away if questioned now than later, when he
had had an opportunity to concoct with Wu-ming a series of plausible answers; so he rallied his returning strength for the effort. Beckoning the young man over to him, he said:

‘Give me your hand.'

Under the impression that Gregory wished to be helped to his feet, Foo at once made to obey, but suddenly found his outstretched fingers seized in an unexpected grip by which the backs of his knuckles lay beneath Gregory's thumb. With a swift motion Gregory jerked Foo's hand over and forced it down. Giving a squeal of pain he fell to his knees, his head thrown back, his body twisted sideways.

‘Now!' said Gregory hoarsely. ‘I want the truth; or I'll send you back to the stoke-hold.'

‘Please, Sir! You're not yourself,' Foo gasped. ‘Oh, you're hurting!'

‘I've hardly started yet. I'll break every bone in your fingers unless you answer me properly. What was in that cocktail you brought me?'

‘White wine and orange juice, with a slice of fresh lime.'

‘What else?'

‘Nothing else. Oh, let me go! No, nothing; I swear!'

‘Where did you mix it?'

‘In the pantry off the upper deck lounge.'

‘Who else was in the pantry at the time?'

‘The second steward and Mr. Kâo Hsüan's servant, P'ei. He too was mixing a drink for his master.'

‘Who was in the lounge?'

‘The chief engineer, the purser, two officers who were playing chess, and one of the young cadets.'

‘No one else? Think now!'

‘No, Sir. No one.'

‘Did you walk straight through the lounge with the drink and bring it direct to me, or did you for any reason stop on the way?'

‘I stopped once, Sir; but only for a moment.'

‘Where, and why?'

‘At the top of the upper deck companion-way. I almost ran into Mr. Wu-ming Loo there. He was on his knees looking
for a little gold toothpick he had dropped. It was already getting dark and he asked me to help him find it before the light failed.'

‘Ah!' muttered Gregory. ‘And what happened then?'

‘I put my tray down on the deck and helped him to search. We found the toothpick almost at once; or rather he did.'

Gregory released his vice-like grip on Foo's fingers, let him get up, and said, ‘Thank you. That's all I wish to know. I don't think you are in any way to blame for what happened.'

‘You … you mean, Sir, that you won't send me back to the stoke-hold? That I may continue as your servant?'

‘Yes,' Gregory nodded, wearily passing a hand over his eyes. The plan to kill him now appeared simplicity itself. Wu-ming need only have noticed that Foo brought him down a cocktail at the same hour every evening, then lain in wait outside the lounge. A servant could not possibly have refused his request to help him look for his toothpick, and in the failing light, while the man's back was turned, it would have been child's-play to slip the poison into the drink unobserved by him or anyone else.