Murderer’s Trail. J. Farjeon Jefferson

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ

      ‘I’m thinking, Mr Holbrooke.’

      ‘Well,’ growled Mr Holbrooke, ‘I should say even thought’s got a time limit.’

      ‘In your country, perhaps,’ said the captain. ‘Not in ours. I’m thinking of what you’ve told me just now—and wondering—’

      ‘Yep?’

      ‘If you’ve told me everything?’

      Mr Holbrooke frowned, looked away for a moment, and then hastily looked back.

      ‘I don’t get you!’ he exclaimed.

      ‘It ought to be easy,’ observed the captain. ‘What’s really making you so scared?’

      Mr Holbrooke did not like that, and his large eyebrows went up in protest.

      ‘Say, who’s scared?’ he demanded.

      ‘Well, suspicious, then,’ the captain corrected himself dryly. ‘Choose your own term, Mr Holbrooke.’

      Mr Holbrooke regarded the cigar he was smoking thoughtfully. It was one of the captain’s cigars, and, to his surprise, it was quite as good as his own.

      ‘Ah—I see what you mean,’ he murmured. ‘Yes, I’m suspicious, don’t worry. Suppose I say it’s just a hunch?’

      ‘A hunch,’ repeated the captain, nodding slightly. ‘And do you seriously expect me to search the whole of this ship for you on account of a hunch?’

      ‘Eh?’

      ‘And to watch every passenger? And to ring a Curfew at eight? And to send a wireless to Scotland Yard? Because that’s really about what it comes to, Mr Holbrooke, isn’t it?’

      Mr Holbrooke’s frown grew.

      ‘Maybe that’s putting it rather strongly, sir,’ he protested. ‘I’m not aware that I’ve said anything about any Curfew!’

      The captain shrugged his shoulders.

      ‘Then what do you want me to do?’ he inquired.

      Mr Holbrooke stared at the ground, and then suddenly banged his fist down on the arm of his chair.

      ‘No, by Gosh, you’re right!’ he exclaimed. ‘That’s what I do want you to do! Within reasonable limits, of course—and I dare say we can spare the Curfew! The point is, as I’ve mentioned, that you’re not dealing with—well, sir, just an ordinary person. You understand me? What I’m telling you is that I’m able and willing to pay for what I’m asking—’

      He paused, as the captain raised his hand. The captain spoke a little stiffly.

      ‘The normal protection of passengers on board the Atalanta is included in the price of their passage,’ he said. ‘And, even if it were not, the expense of the extra service you suggest would be rather high for—well, just a hunch.’

      ‘Wouldn’t that be my affair?’ suggested Mr Holbrooke, unhappily.

      ‘In the strictest sense,’ responded the captain, ‘everything on board the Atalanta is my affair.’

      ‘Then, by golly, make it your affair!’ cried Mr Holbrooke, exasperated. ‘You call it a hunch! It’s a darn sight more than that—’

      ‘Ah!’

      ‘Yes, sir! It’s—’ He broke off, and stared at the captain speculatively. ‘Say, do you never have enemies in your country?’

      ‘What sort of enemies?’

      ‘Well—I don’t mean wives.’ He smiled rather foolishly at the cumbrous jest. ‘No, you can deal with wives. Flowers—a theatre—that’s easy! I’m talking of—’ The smile faded. ‘This kind—people who are jealous of you—jealous of your success and your position—jealous of the money you’ve made and the brains and industry you’ve made it by—people who hate you like poison, and will do any sort of God-darn trick to bring you down a bit to their level!’

      His eyes narrowed. For a moment, he almost seemed to forget that he was in the captain’s cabin, and the captain regarded him with increased interest. He had been on the point of ending the interview. It was not to his taste. But now he decided to continue it.

      ‘I see,’ he commented quietly. ‘So you’ve got enemies of that kind?’

      ‘There’s not a successful man in the United States who hasn’t!’

      The statement was delivered in the form of a retort. The captain interpreted it as an attempt to modify the significance which, a moment earlier, had been insisted on, and he was unable to suppress an ironical smile at the awkward manœuvring of his wealthiest passenger. It was child-like in its inconsistency. When a clever millionaire became child-like, there must be some solid reason behind it. Was the reason, in this case, stark terror?

      ‘I’m quite ready to help you if it’s necessary, Mr Holbrooke,’ said the captain; ‘but you haven’t made out your case yet. If your enemies are the sort that every successful American possesses, then every successful American would require the captain of every ship he travelled on to give him special protection. Captains would have a busy time. It seems to me that these enemies of yours must be more malicious than the average. Otherwise, you’d hardly waste my time over them.’

      ‘Well—we’ll say they are?’

      ‘Then may we also say, perhaps, that they have more reason to be?’

      ‘Eh?’

      ‘I merely put the question.’

      ‘Well, suppose you explain the question?’ grunted Mr Holbrooke, with an exclamation of annoyance.

      He did not relish the question. His face grew rather red. The captain’s own face became a trifle sterner.

      ‘Please try and be calm, Mr Holbrooke,’ he said. ‘I really can’t assist you otherwise. What I’ve got to find out is how real this danger you talk of is—’

      ‘It’s real enough!’ interrupted Mr Holbrooke excitedly. ‘Say, do you suppose I’d be here if it weren’t? You English—if you’ll forgive me saying it—want shaking up. You’re so darned slow! You can’t see things that are right before your nose. Now, listen here! Something’s wrong on this ship! Why, there’s even a rumour that a stoker fell in the water before we moved out of dock. Suppose he didn’t fall in the water. Say he was pushed in?’

      Someone knocked on the cabin door. ‘Come in,’ said the captain. A small man entered, in spotless whites. It was Jenks, the captain’s steward. He had light hair, and watery blue eyes, and he looked like Jenks.

      ‘From the third officer, sir,’ he said, saluting.

      He advanced with a note. The captain took it, and read it. He considered for a moment.

      ‘Ask Mr Greene to stand by, Jenks,’ СКАЧАТЬ