Bodies from the Library: Lost Tales of Mystery and Suspense by Agatha Christie and other Masters of the Golden Age. Georgette Heyer

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      ALICE: Hello, Daddy, here we are.

      GREER: Well, isn’t this great! Why, you’re looking pale, lass. She needs the sea air to put some roses in those cheeks, doesn’t she, Sir James?

      JAMES: Evening, Greer. Everything ready for us? You know Mr Annesley. This is his sister—Captain Greer, Miss Annesley. My secretary, Mr Strangeways.

      GREER: Welcome aboard, Miss Annesley. Gentlemen. Hope you’ll enjoy your trip. This way, please. The steward’ll show you your cabins.

      LAURA: Steward! Oh, it makes me feel quite queer already. Stewards and basins do seem to go hand in hand, if you follow me, don’t they? Oh, Captain Greer, I do hope this is a steady boat. I always …

      (Fade out with receding footsteps. Fade in to general conversation.)

      GREER: This is my saloon. You must make yourselves at home here. There’s a radio set: and you’ll find playing-cards, and—

      NIGEL: And dominoes? Do you play dominoes, Captain, during the long dog-watches? That’s a game I—

      LAURA: Oh, Captain, what’s that perfectly dinky contraption over there?

      GREER: That’s the radio telephone. You can talk to your friends ashore.

      LAURA: Well, isn’t that sweet?

      (Knock at door. Door opens)

      GREER: My first mate. Mr Maclean.

      MACLEAN: Good evening, ladies. Evening, Sir James—and gentlemen. Pilot’s come aboard, sir.

      GREER: Very well. Carry on, mister.

       (Deck and bridge sounds. Orders. Casting away the hawsers. Sound of telegraph. Steam-whistle. Pulse of engines grows louder, quicker. Presently its rhythm is mixed into a different sound—the tapping of a pencil on a table. We are in James’ and Alice’s cabin.)

      ALICE: James. Please stop tapping with your pencil. It—it gets on my nerves … Why are you looking at me like that?

      JAMES: Aren’t you a little overwrought, my dear? I was just thinking, you’ve a nice long sea-voyage before you. A nice long voyage with—your husband.

      ALICE: Yes, James.

      JAMES: And with young Laurence Annesley. You don’t seem so very pleased with the prospect. Two admirers, and no competition.

      ALICE: Can’t you say straight out what you mean? Isn’t it rather cowardly—this perpetual hissing?

      JAMES: Of course, he’s a younger man than I am, isn’t he? A good-looking young fellow, too.

      ALICE: James, this is contemptible. I—

      JAMES: And sea air does bring ’em up to scratch, doesn’t it? These shipboard romances. The moon, a lonely deck, the waves swirling past … But of course you wouldn’t encourage anything like that. You’re faithful to your husband, who has—the money. Yes. But you’d be glad of a little extra protection, I’m sure. Strangeways will help to keep an eye on you, and see that nothing—

      ALICE: So that’s it. I was right. You’ve hired him to spy on me. You admit it.

      JAMES: Indeed no. I admit nothing. Ask him, if you like.

      ALICE: You haven’t even got the courage of your own vileness. You have to get somebody else to do your dirty work.

      JAMES: But perhaps it’s a case of shutting the stable door after the horse is out. This child you’re going to have. It is mine? You’re quite sure?

      ALICE: (breaks down: sobbing) Oh! How dare you say—? Oh God!

      (Slam of door. Sobbing fades; then grows louder again, more intermittent, mixed with sea-sounds. We are on deck.)

      LAURENCE: Darling, what is it? Tell me. Has he been—?

      ALICE: (during this conversation she gradually controls herself, till towards the end her voice has the flat finality of despair) He—no, I can’t tell you, it’s too horrible for words.

      LAURENCE: Tell me. You’ll feel better for it.

      ALICE: He said—he accused me of—that the child I’m going to have isn’t his.

      LAURENCE: Not his? But that’s—

      ALICE: He hinted things—about you and me. That’s what he’s got Mr Strangeways for. To spy on us. He’s a detective.

      LAURENCE: The swine. That settles it. I’m going to have to talk with Sir James Braithwaite.

      ALICE: No. Stop. It’s no good. You don’t understand, Laurence. I don’t mind the things he says. Not now. I’m broken in, I suppose. One gets used to anything, even the misery he’s made of my life. Yes, I’ve forgotten what happiness feels like. But when he talked about my child, it came to me—what sort of life would it have with him for a father? I can put up with his bullying, his meanness, his suspicions: but I won’t let my baby—

      LAURENCE: You must leave him, my dear. You must.

      ALICE: He’d never let me go … (very flat, speaking half to self) Unless … yes, there is one way … Perhaps I shall leave him … Sooner than he—

      (Cough. Footsteps)

      GREER: Well, lass, sharpening up your appetite? That’s right. But what’s this? Tears? Well now, this won’t do.

      ALICE: It’s nothing, Daddy. I—this baby makes me feel weak and silly. It’s nothing, really.

      GREER: Come now, that’s better, take my arm. We’ll go into the saloon. It’s just on dinner-time.

      (Footsteps recede. Noises of sea. Then fade into general conversation)

      LAURA: Well, that’s what I call a slap-up dinner. I only hope I will be able to keep it inside me. Is it going to be very rough tonight, Captain?

      GREER: Don’t you worry, Miss Annesley. Weather reports say we may run into a bit of local fog. Nothing worse than that. She’ll not jump about much till we get into the Bay, and you’ll have your sea-legs by then.

      LAURENCE: Well, Strangeways, how’s the—secretarial work going?

      NIGEL: O.K., thank you kindly.

      JAMES: Mr Strangeways is a confidential secretary, Annesley?

      LAURENCE: yes. To be sure. A formidable responsibility—to be the repository of Sir James Braithwaite’s secrets.

      (Embarrassed pause)

      LAURA: I’m sure it’ll be very nice for Mr Strangeways to have something to do—to keep his mind occupied, I mean. I mean, there are limits to one’s capacity for playing deck-quoits. I say—that reminds СКАЧАТЬ