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Authors: Hulbert Footner

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BOOK: MRS3 The Velvet Hand
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I drove direct to the pier from my boarding house, and, as it happened, I arrived first. Once more I shared in the intoxicating confusion of sailing day. Before you mount the gangway a clerk looks at your ticket and checks you up on the passenger list. This person said to me:

"Miss Brickley? You are travelling with Madame Storey, are you not? Your rooms have been changed at the request of Captain Sir Angus McMaster. You have been assigned to C47, the Imperial suite."

The Imperial suite! I looked at him with my mouth hanging open. Why, the cost of this suite is $6,000. A mere thousand a day for the voyage! I was speechless—but no comment was required from me. At the magic words "Imperial suite" all the stewards standing about began to bow, and I was wafted on board before I well knew what was happening to me.

I knew the plan, but the ship itself was a revelation to me. It was not like a ship at all, but a palace with soaring pillars supporting the domed ceilings, and noble, sweeping stairways. As for our quarters; well, I could only look around me with a sigh of half-incredulous pleasure. To come from a boarding-house bedroom to this! It was like a fairy tale. One entered first a delicious sitting room, set about with easy chairs and sofas; this led through two pairs of French windows to what they called the veranda, an outdoors room with a whole row of big windows opening to the sea. The sun streamed in, gilding the quantities of flowers blooming in window boxes. The furniture here was of wicker; it was like a garden.

The bedrooms opened from the veranda, right and left—Mme Storey's and mine. Each of these had its row of big windows opening over the sea. They were just such luxurious nests as a woman might dream of, the walls cunningly inlaid with rare woods, and the ingenious and beautiful appointments a continual surprise. Back of the bedrooms were bathrooms, wardrobe rooms, maids' rooms galore.

In a few minutes my beautiful young mistress arrived attended by a retinue of stewards. When they had gone, she broke into a laugh at the sight of my awestruck face.

"We appear to be in luck, my Bella," she said.

"Do you know the captain?" I asked.

"I have crossed on his ship before," she said; "but captains are a race apart. I did not suppose he would remember
me
!"

"He evidently has," I remarked.

There was a tap at the door, and I admitted an imposing maître d'hôtel, who bowed low, and conveying the compliments of the Ritz-Carlton restaurant, begged that Mme Storey and Miss Brickley would consider themselves the guests of the management during the voyage. He was followed by a boy bearing an armful of Radiance roses with more compliments. It appeared that this marvellous ship even had hothouses somewhere up above. The third tap on our door (we were out in the stream by this time) was given by an immaculate apprentice, who said in his charming English voice:

"The commander's compliments, and would it be agreeable to Madame Storey to receive him before lunch?"

"It would be highly agreeable," said my mistress.

To me she murmured with a lift of her eyebrows: "Verily, the mountain is coming to Mahomet!"

Captain Sir Angus McMaster, R.N.R., C.V.O., and goodness knows what else besides. Ah! there was a man for you! Every inch the commander of men, and a gallant and simple-hearted gentleman to boot. There was that in his stern gray face with its rather melancholy eyes which induced instant and complete confidence; something, too, to make you shiver, if your conscience was bad. In his blue and gold, with a string of orders across his breast, he was magnificent without being in the least foppish or at all conscious of his grandeur. The simplicity of the man was his most conspicuous quality.

His eyes paid instant tribute to my mistress's beauty. "How glad I was to discover that you were making this voyage with me," he said.

"You remembered me among so many thousands of passengers!" said Mme Storey.

"That was not difficult," he said with a quiet smile.

"My secretary, Miss Brickley," said Mme Storey, bringing me forward.

The bow he gave to plain me was just the same as if I had been the grandest of ladies.

We all went out into that charming veranda with the sun on the flowers and the breeze from the sea and seated ourselves. Sir Angus accepted one of Mme Storey's cigarettes.

"I am not going to attempt to thank you for all this," said my mistress, waving her hand about. "You must know how we are enjoying it."

"It was all I could do," he said, "and little enough.... It would ill become a sailor to beat around the bush," he went on. "I come to you for help, my dear lady. I am in a quandary, and, of course, being the commander, I dare not confess it to anybody on board. I don't suppose it has ever occurred to you, but a captain leads rather a solitary life. It is not often that I may relax like this."

"You interest me extraordinarily," said Mme Storey. "I should be so proud if I could help. Please go on."

"It's quite a long story," said Sir Angus, "but rather a curious one. I hope it will not bore you."

"I know it will not."

"It began early last season," he went on. "On a westward voyage. My attention was attracted by a certain good-looking young couple among the passengers—a Mr. and Mrs. Lionel Dartrey. I can't say what it was about them that aroused my suspicions, for their actions on board were irreproachable; I suppose I had what you Americans so expressively term a hunch. I was convinced from the first that there was something queer about them.

"As you no doubt know, we have detectives mixing with the passengers—unpleasant to think about, but unfortunately necessary on so large a ship—and I desired that these people report to me concerning the Dartreys. The reports were nil. The man did not gamble; the lady, while much sought after by other gentlemen, was entirely discreet in her behaviour. Mrs. Dartrey was not by any means the conventional 'charmer,' for I could see for myself that she was very popular among the women passengers. The two of them occupied an expensive room and had every appearance of being well-born people of ample means.

"Still I was not satisfied. That hunch continued to tease me. So I proceeded to make friends with them myself as the opportunities offered. The man I found to be merely a handsome, aristocratic nonentity; it was impossible to talk to him; he merely made well-bred noises. But the lady was both sprightly and amusing. One of those impulsive women who are apparently all on the surface, and yet—and yet... To tell you the truth, neither of them gave me the slightest cause for suspicion, yet my suspicions grew.

"I had them followed when they left the ship. It was reported to me, to my surprise, that they simply went down West Street and boarded the
Allemania
of the Brevard Line, which was sailing that day. We were a day late. This gave me food for thought. This was in April. Six weeks later they again turned up on my ship, bound for New York. I overheard Mrs. Dartrey make a laughing remark to the effect that she only really lived on board ship, and her husband was obliged to humour her often. Again they took the
Allemania
back to Southampton on the following day.

"My curiosity was now thoroughly aroused. As opportunity offered, I communicated with the other captains of our line by wireless at sea. Melksham of the
Britannic
and Coxter of the
Oceanic
; also with the captains of the Brevarders
Baratoria
and
Ruritania
; and I had no difficulty in establishing that the Dartreys had spent the entire season in flitting back and forth between New York and Southampton on the six big express ships of the two lines. Our schedules are so arranged that they were able practically to jump from one ship to another at each end. We leave New York on Wednesdays, you see, and land our passengers in Southampton on Tuesdays, or, at the latest, Wednesday morning. Whereas the Brevarders leave Southampton Wednesday at noon and arrive in New York on Tuesdays. In six weeks, having made the rounds of all six ships, they were back on mine again, you see.

"I reported all this to my head office, and thereafter the Dartreys were followed by expert detectives. But nothing came of it. About the first of August they gave up their ferrying of the Atlantic and retired to a charming little flat in Sloane Street, London, where they entertained some of the smartest people of the fashionable world and otherwise proceeded to enjoy themselves. Dartrey, it appeared, was the younger son of an impeccable British family; his wife an American. It was shown that they enjoyed a highly respectable banking connection; their income, which amounted to no less than £10,000 a year, came to them in the form of dividend checks from great American companies. It was all in the lady's name.

"As a result of this investigation, my company intimated to me that I had discovered a mare's nest, and indeed I began to think myself that I had. Eccentric people, no doubt, but there are plenty of those; nothing in the world to suggest that they were crooks. But early this season they turned up again on my ship—only travelling eastward this season, and presumably westward on the Brevard Line. I am convinced that they are swindlers of the most dangerous sort, and I feel that I owe it to my passengers to protect them from such. My company is not backing me in this; I am dependent on my own efforts. It seemed providential when I learned that you were making this voyage."

"The Dartreys are on board, then?" asked Mme Storey.

"They are," he said with a dry smile. "In the pink of condition."

Mme Storey looked at me with a somewhat rueful twinkle.

"Why do you smile?" asked Sir Angus.

"This is the second time this summer that I have started off for a vacation..."

"Ah, I should have thought of that."

"No, I meant it as a joke merely. I am not really worked to death, you know. And you are a person who does not often ask favours. One regards it as a privilege therefore..."

"You are too kind," he murmured.

"Besides, it appeals to me," said Mme Storey. "As a diversion on shipboard. A sort of deck game.... But, I say, don't you think you have started off rather indiscreetly by displaying me so prominently in the Imperial suite?"

"Bless me! I never thought of that!" he said blankly.

She laughed at his simplicity. "Oh, well, I don't suppose it makes much difference. If these people are really experienced international crooks they probably know all about me, and I couldn't expect to accomplish much by direct methods. But there is Bella here. By a lucky chance we came on board separately; and none of the passengers can know as yet that she is my secretary.... Bella, would it break your heart to divorce yourself from the Imperial suite?"

"Not if there was anything interesting going on," I said.

"Good. Then, Sir Angus, can you furnish her with another room and another name for the voyage? And supply me with a young woman to play her part?"

He rose. "I am sure that can be arranged. The purser will help us. I shall speak to him at once. And, my dear lady, I cannot sufficiently thank you. Of course, if my suspicions prove to be justified, the company will..."

"Ah, don't speak of that," said Mme Storey. "You are the commander of us all now, and I am proud to be able to help, if ever so little."

II

It turned out that there was a certain Miss Gaul down on the passenger list who had failed to come aboard; and I therefore took unto myself her name and her cabin. The latter was 63, a large and pleasant room up in the bow; with one window looking forward and another to starboard. Within an hour that marvellous man, the captain, had a telephone installed, so that I was able to communicate freely and secretly with Mme Storey.

Only a step from my door were the great public rooms of the vessel, which were all on B deck: lounge, grand entrance, palm court, etc. These noble apartments were really two stories high, with domed ceilings that made them look even higher. The designer had had the ingenious idea of dividing the great funnels of the vessel and running them down at the sides, so as not to obstruct the view. One could therefore look through the whole magnificent suite. Flooded with sunlight, it was an unforgettable picture. The most ordinary-looking men and women moved in this vista with the dignity of eminences.

Meanwhile the niece of one of the engineer officers who was travelling in the second cabin was brought forward to play my part. She was a pleasant girl who looked both intelligent and ladylike. I confess it caused me a good many twinges of jealousy to see her privileged to associate with Mme Storey at all hours, eating with her in the restaurant, and so on; but I consoled myself with the reflection that I had the responsible job.

Mme Storey had said: "I am convinced that the captain's suspicions of the Dartreys are well founded. An honest man's instinct is not to be despised. The fact that he has never been able to get anything on them suggests to me that they are only agents or steerers in the game. They operate only in the early part of the season, when rich Americans are flocking to Europe; consequently, the real trick, if I am right, must be turned in London or Paris. We are lucky to catch them on an eastward voyage."

Later she telephoned me that she had learned from the second steward that the Dartreys were to eat in the regular dining saloon instead of the Ritz-Carlton restaurant, and that they had been assigned to table number 120. I was to be allotted a seat at 123 not close enough to attract their attention, but sufficiently near to afford me ample opportunities for observation. I was not to pay any particular attention to them, and above all must not appear anxious to make friends. Let the first overtures come from them, if possible.

If they did make up to me, I was to represent myself as the daughter of a wealthy, undistinguished couple in some large western city, say Cleveland. Let my father be a manufacturer of oil stoves who had sold out to the Standard Oil. I had lately been released by death from a long, dull term of servitude to my aged parents, and I was now making my first timid essay in the direction of Europe and culture. Further details Mme Storey left to my imagination. I objected that I had no black clothes, but she said that made no difference; many people nowadays did not believe in wearing mourning.

BOOK: MRS3 The Velvet Hand
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