The Mask of Sumi (7 page)

“Yes, I know,” Mannering said. “She's here.”

“Is she with you?”

“She arrived ten minutes ago,” Mannering said.

“I didn't realise she'd gone when I telephoned before,” Lorna told him. “I thought she was resting in the spare room.” There was a pause; then she asked with a kind of stubborn hopefulness: “Is it over, John?”

“No,” Mannering said. “I only wish it were. I'm going on with the
East Africa Star,
my darling. There's a good chance that we'll find the mask on board.”

“I had a feeling that might happen,” Lorna said resignedly. “Be very careful.”

That was all. No hint of reproach, nothing but ‘be very careful'. Yet Mannering needed no telling how afraid for him she was. Tomorrow, when she read in the papers exactly what had happened here, her fears would increase as they had so often before, but she would not write or do or say anything to add to his difficulties or his anxieties. He was a thousand miles and more away from her yet he had never felt so close.

“I'll be careful,” Mannering said. “Sweet, make a few notes for Josh Larraby will you?”

“Yes.”

Mannering dictated some routine notes, and then went on: “Ask him to find out all he can about James Harding, the Chelsea dealer—” Mannering explained why. “And tell him to cable me in the Antiquarians' code – they're not likely to have a copy of that on board the
East Africa Star.
I'll telephone from the ship if there's any need, but I won't make it routine.”

“All right,” Lorna said. “What about Pearl?”

“She'll fly back later today,” Mannering said. “Try to persuade her to stay with you until—”

He broke off, for Pearl Toji thrust a slip of paper in front of him. It read: “Please tell your wife not to worry about me. I also shall be on the
East Africa Star.
”

 

 

Mannering sat in the tender with Pearl by his side, aware of the countless covert glances from the passengers going back after a few hours on the Rock. Sun-browned and sun-reddened faces and knees, short-sleeved shirts and dresses, shorts and T-shirts, made a kind of homogeneous mass. Except for a child clinging to its mother's knees and whining, everyone seemed happy. A boy of five or six suddenly started to climb on to the tender's rail. His mother shrieked: “Nigel! You'll fall!”

A man grabbed the boy.

Someone said: “Doesn't she look beautiful.”

Two men glanced at Pearl. “Oh, she's a fine ship,” another man put in.

Mannering, his leg against Pearl's, glanced down at her and saw how intently she was staring across the still water towards the
East Africa Star.
Two or three people moved into position for a photograph. Mannering had not taken much notice of the ship until now, but as they neared it and it seemed to grow bigger, he felt a stirring of interest – even of pride – in her clean white lines, vivid as the late afternoon sun shone on her. A few people lined the ship's rails, a few moved about. Cameras clicked. A burst of laughter came from a group of teenagers in the bows.

Mannering leaned his head close to Pearl.

“What do you think of your fellow passengers?”

She looked up at him with a slow, thoughtful smile.

“Most people are good,” she said simply.

“There's at least one very bad one on board if we're right.”

“That is what my father always told me,” said Pearl. “You look at fruit and there is one bad and you see it and throw it out. It is the same with fish, even the same with pearls. But with people you cannot tell.”

“You can tell some people,” Mannering declared.

“Yes, some perhaps. But among all these – can you say who is good and who is bad?”

“Not many people would think you were bad.”

She smiled more freely. “How easily I could deceive them.”

She looked away towards the ship. They were passing the bows and the ship itself was head-on to the Rock of Gibraltar which rose so dark and massive against a sky now clear of cloud.

The tender pulled alongside and the crowd surged towards the gangway. A few held back. A young man with sandy-coloured hair and a pleasant face came towards them.

“I haven't seen you on board, have I?”

“We're just coming on,” Mannering said.

“Oh, good! We can do with a bit of brightening up.” The young man's eyes were on Pearl with deep admiration. “My name is Joslyn – Raymond Joslyn.”

“I'm John Mannering.”

“Glad to know you, Mr. Mannering.”

“May I introduce you to Miss Pearl Toji?”

“
Very
glad to know you!” Joslyn showed good teeth in an easy smile. “If you need anyone to show you round, just say the word.”

He turned away. A little dark man with a dozen garishly-coloured silk scarves over his arm was selling one to an elderly woman in black, otherwise the tender was almost empty. They went towards the gangway, which was quite steep as it led up from the tender to a doorway in the ship's hull.

Joslyn stood back for Pearl. She stepped on the gangway. For a distance of no more than four feet there was nothing above her – the gangway was a kind of bridge. For a moment Pearl was in the bright sunlight.

From above, someone shouted: “Look out!”

Mannering, just behind the girl, glanced up and saw what seemed to be a dark, moving shadow on the white side of the ship. He thrust himself forward, pushed Pearl in the back so that she shot over the edge of the gangway into the arms of two waiting stewards. Mannering jumped forward. He felt the gangway shudder as something big and heavy crashed on to it. A woman screamed.

“My God!” cried one of the stewards.

There was a rending sound, a gasp, another scream. Mannering, staggering forward, was just aware of Pearl in the arms of a white-clad steward, of people dodging out of his way, of others looking horrified. He steadied, and looked round, fearfully.

Joslyn lay on the battered gangway with a heavy wooden deck chair on him.

 

“He's all right, Mr. Mannering,” said Dr. Roughead, the ship's surgeon. “Two or three days and he'll be as good as new. No need to worry at all. How is the young lady?”

“Shaken and scared, that's all.”

“Understandable, very understandable indeed. I shudder to think what would have happened had that heavy chair struck anyone so fragile. Sure there's nothing I can do for her?”

“Nothing at all.”

“Or for you?” Dr. Roughead asked belatedly.

“No, I'm fine,” Mannering assured.

He escaped from the doctor and went towards the drawing-room, in the bows, then up a narrow flight of stairs to the bridge deck. An Indian sailor waited for him at the head of the stairs, and smiled shyly at Mannering's thank you. Mannering reached an open doorway, and heard Captain Cross saying: “It's hard to believe, Charles.”

“We may find someone yet.”

“May I come in?” asked Mannering.

“Oh, yes – we've been waiting for you.”

Cross, a compact, dark-haired man in his fifties, stood up from a chair in a spacious room. He wore a white shirt and knee-length shorts, and gave an impression of strength held on a tight leash. “You've met Charles East, the Master-at-Arms, haven't you?”

“Briefly,” said Mannering.

They shook hands.

“It's almost incredible, but we cannot find anyone who actually saw the beginning of the incident,” said Cross. “Two able seamen say they saw a man standing on the boat deck at the time, but he was hidden by stanchions and all they saw was his back. He must have been standing immediately above the gangways. Passengers often take their own chairs up there, to get some quiet, and although they shouldn't, it's winked at. It couldn't have fallen, though.”

“No accident, then,” said Mannering.

“It simply wasn't possible.”

“There isn't much doubt that it was an attempt on your life,” East said. He was a big, hard-faced, hard-eyed man with a big jaw.

“Oh, come!”

“Don't you think so?” Cross sounded as if he was commanding Mannering to agree with him. His eyes, grey and alert, had the disconcerting directness of a man used to command.

“Would it have killed anyone?”

“If it had struck in the right place,” East declared. “It was one of the heavy ones. If it had happened to hit Miss Toji it would at least have disfigured her.”

“Yes,” Mannering said. He did not voice his greatest fear: that the attack had really been on the girl. “I'd say it was meant to scare me, not to kill.”

“I trust you're scared,” Cross said. “Mr. Mannering, we have five days' sailing across the Mediterranean. It could be a very unpleasant voyage if we thought this kind of thing was likely to happen.”

“Don't I know it,” Mannering said ruefully.

“Are you sure the mask is aboard?” Again Cross gave the impression that he did not want to believe the obvious.

“No, but it seems very likely now,” Mannering said. “If that was an attack on me—”

“You don't seriously doubt that, do you?” asked East. He seemed almost annoyed at the possibility of doubt.

“Not really,” admitted Mannering. “And why should anyone try to kill, scare, or intimidate me if they didn't want to stop me looking for the mask?”

“Reasonable enough,” East conceded.

“It's an ugly situation,” said Cross gloomily.

“There's one thing we ought to remember,” Mannering said. “The man with the mask knows I'm aboard but doesn't know I'm here with your approval.”

East leaned forward.

“Meaning what?”

“If he's kept in ignorance of the help I can call on he's more likely to try again,” Mannering said.

“You
want
him to?” Cross's voice rose.

“It might be the easiest and quickest way to catch him.”

“I hand it to you,” said Cross heavily.

“There's something in it,” agreed East. “Yes. I think it would be better if there's no official association between us. But we can help a lot in the background, and make sure you're never absolutely on your own.”

“I wouldn't do that,” Mannering said. He smiled at Cross. “I might want to do things you wouldn't want to know about! Forget me, but keep a special eye on Miss Toji, will you?”

“I don't know what kind of thing you want to do on your own, but don't go too far, Mr. Mannering. My duty is to my passengers and the Company. I must watch the interests of both. You understand that, don't you?”

“Fully,” Mannering said.

“And don't run away with the idea that you'll be able to do much without being noticed,” said Cross. “There's always someone about.” He frowned. “You seriously think we ought to watch Miss Toji?”

“If I know that East is looking after her I can do my job better.”

“I'm not sure I shouldn't have put you both ashore,” Cross said gruffly. “What do you intend to do first?”

“Size up the passengers,” Mannering said simply. “Can you let me have a marked passenger list showing all the people you can vouch for?”

“There'll be no trouble about that,” said Cross. “Most of the people on board are from Kenya, Uganda, or the Rhodesias – three quarters of them have been out and back with us at least twice before. A few are going out for the first time, mostly youngsters. Have you any idea what type of person you're looking for?”

“No.”

“Or whether he's on his own or with his wife?”

“For all I know he could be with his wife and family,” Mannering said. “But he's more likely to be on his own. This kind of caper isn't one you do with a crowd. They might be a man and woman travelling separately.”

“How soon do you want the list marked?”

“Can it be today?”

“Yes, of course,” said Cross. “I'll send it down to your cabin. When you've got it, you'll have to start sorting the passengers out, won't you?”

“I'm going to start on that right away,” Mannering said.

“How?”

“Enter for all the sports and pastimes,” Mannering said simply. “There's one other thing you could do for me.”

“What's that?”

“Find a passenger about my build who could spare me a couple of pairs of shorts and a pair of shoes or sandals,” Mannering said. “I can get shirts at the shop.”

“That'll be easy,” said Cross. “Sir Harry Katman has a wardrobe big enough for a dozen people, and he's about your size. I'll get the Purser to introduce you.”

“Thanks very much,” Mannering said.

When he had left the Captain's cabin, Cross picked up a radio-telephone message from the Company he had received while at Gibraltar. It read:

 

“Extend all reasonable facilities to John Mannering use your own judgment we will support you.”

 

Cross smiled to himself, and then sent for the ship's surgeon for a report on the injured passenger.

 

Katman was almost identical in figure and height with Mannering, but a man in his sixties. He was affable and helpful. Mannering tried on a pair of navy blue shorts and a pair of wine-red swimming trunks and a pair of beautifully worked leather sandals.

“That's made all the difference in the world,” he said.

“Pleasure, my dear chap,” said Katman. “Let me know if there's anything else you need.”

Mannering went off.

Pearl, in a cabin on the same deck, was wearing a cotton dress with a delicate pattern on it. Mannering could well understand how her beauty would affect the men on board.

“Now let's go and enter into the spirit of shipboard life,” said Mannering.

“And remember that one of the passengers is a murderer,” Pearl said, gravely.

The chairman of the Sports Committee was a Major Thomas, and his right-hand man was young Raymond Joslyn, who was soon up and about. A big board outside the main entrance hall was already covered with lists of Deck Games competitions. Mannering, under amiable pressure from Joslyn himself, cheerfully signed at the bottom of the lists headed:

 

Table Tennis – men's singles

“ “ – mixed doubles

Deck Tennis – mixed doubles

“ “ – men's singles

Deck Quoits – mixed doubles

“ “ – men's singles

Shuffleboard – men's singles

“ “ – mixed doubles

 

As he did so he studied the other names to help to familiarise himself with them. Several appeared on each list: Joslyn, Thomas, a man named Corrison, and several more. On the women's lists one of the most prominent was a woman named Naomi Ransom.

Mannering played in the mixed games with Pearl, who had aptitude and some experience, and took all the games seriously. His left wrist was still swollen but did not handicap him very much. Gradually, he was able to put names to the faces of all the passengers in the games without showing too much curiosity. Everyone began to show personality and character, many dull, some lively, a few both lively and intelligent. Pearl, a little aloof at first, gradually lost her gravity and solemnness. She began to laugh more freely, as if the shadow of her father's death was already receding.

But she was watching, watching, all the time.

And so was Mannering.