She turned to Raffles.
“My second reason, A.J.,” she said, “was to make yet another test — a test of you! You see, I thought that Mr. Manders here, when he imagined he’d been victimized, would probably describe the — the harpy to you and that you might guess my identity. I wanted to watch you, see how you took it. I’ve been watching you — on deck this afternoon, in the dining-room just now, in this room here. I’ve been trying to read from your expression whether the thought that Ginnie Benedict had fallen so far from the high resolves she told you of, the day you were Phil’s best man, weighed on you at all. I wanted to try to judge — oh, A.J.,” she said, with sudden passion, “I wanted to know whether Phil and I really meant anything to you any more!”
Her hands, on the table, were tightly clasped. Raffles’s brown hand covered them. And he said gently, “It was that important, Ginnie?”
“Very, very important,” she whispered, and I heard the tremor in her breath as she drew it in. “A.J., you knew, didn’t you — you knew that just once, during that mad, spendthrift Jack-of-Diamonds period in his life, Phil had a narrow escape from being caught red-handed and that he knew his face had been seen? Well, that was why, when we went to Rome for our honeymoon, we decided to stay there, out of England — for safety’s sake. Truly, A.J., in Rome we went absolutely straight. And it was — well, hard at times. So few jobs for Phil, a foreigner, and all of them were dead end and didn’t last. When our baby, Philippa, was born, Phil said that we simply had to do better for her, somehow. And about four months ago, by sheer luck, the chance of a good job in Capetown came his way. He jumped at it. He went off there, and was to have sent for us as soon as he was settled in. Instead — he’s been arrested!”
“He met a diamond merchant,” said Ivor Kern cynically, “and the old kink—”
She turned on him. “Yes, Mr. Kern, he did meet a diamond merchant. Or, rather, he was seen by one — the one from Hatton Garden who had seen the face of Jack of Diamonds! That’s what happened, Mr. Kern — the man recognized Phil. He kept quiet at the time but, when he got back to London, he went to Scotland Yard. Oh, how discreetly they handled it! Not a word in the papers. What I know I know from a letter Phil somehow was able to send me. At this moment, he’s in the Karoo Queen, the sister ship of this one, being brought back to England by a Scotland Yard man.”
The lamps in the Pompeian Lounge seemed to burn with an increased and sinister brightness. The cups vibrated slightly to the throb of the engines. Our own return bookings were in the Karoo Queen. I dared not look at Raffles.
“The moment I had the news,” Ginnie said, “I left Philippa with the Italian family we were living with in Rome. I came to England. I booked in this ship as far as Gibraltar, using a false surname. I’ve booked back in the Karoo Queen. I shall be at least near Phil for the last stage of his journey to — to ten or fifteen years behind bars. A lifetime! A.J., am I mad to dream of trying to use the — the wiles I was taught? Of using them to try to get Phil out of the hands of that Scotland Yard man long enough to jump overboard, to swim and swim and swim in the hope that by some miracle a fishing-boat will pick him up? Oh, it is mad — I know! But — I felt I had to do something! And then — A.J., when I was sitting in that train, thinking such wild thoughts, you walked onto the platform! If you knew how my heart leaped! Raffles, who stood by us at our wedding, and was the one man, the one cracksman, who might conceivably — if only he still cared enough to stand by us again — steal Phil back for me out of his prison on that ship!”
Raffles took a cigarette slowly from his case.
Ivor Kern leaned forward. “Ginnie, I’m sorry,” he said, “but, girl alive, face the facts! Gibraltar’s the last port of call for the ship Phil’s in. These ships, when they call there, stay twelve hours, no more. They don’t even dock dammit — they lie out in the bay. Phil’s certainly locked in the cells, deep down, below the waterline. As Jack of Diamonds, he was clever with locks, and elusive as a shadow; and you can bet your life, knowing what he knows about him, the Scotland Yard man will have an eye on the door of Phil’s cell every minute the ship’s at anchor, especially since it’s the last port of call and Phil will be at his most desperate. What could Raffles do? He permits himself to carry no weapon, to use not the slightest violence. No, Ginnie, I’m sorry for you, but you must face it. Jack of Diamonds is beyond help — he’s in the box.”
Raffles was looking at the match he had just struck. I saw his eyes, with a sudden grey gleam in them, go for an instant to Ivor’s face, then return to contemplation of the match-flame. A queer half-smile came to his lips.
“As to that, Ivor,” he murmured, “we shall see...”
The day we passed Cape San Vicente, where the long Atlantic rollers broke in high-flung flashes of white against the rust-red cliffs of Portugal, I was standing beside Ginnie at the promenade-deck rail. Raffles was absent, having taken to spending much time getting himself shown about the nether regions of the ship.
I glanced uneasily at Ginnie. She was watching the passing headland and, such was her faith in Raffles, I knew that at this very moment she was seeing herself and Phil, with their child Philippa, making a safe, fresh start in some distant country. It worried me intensely, for in my heart I believed her vision to be more than a mirage. At that moment she turned her head and saw me looking at her. She smiled and put a hand impulsively on mine.
“Have you forgiven me the ten pound trick, Bunny?” she said.
“Now, Ginnie!” I said. My heart ached for that girl.
But Raffles, that night, in the three-berth cabin we shared with Ivor Kern, said, “All that can be done for her up to the moment, Bunny, has been done. The ships being sister ships, I now have the geography and routine of both at my fingertips. I know the precise location of the cells and the strong-room, and—”
“The strong-room?” In my upper bunk, I heaved myself up on an elbow to get a better look at him.
“The Karoo Queen,” he said, “will certainly be carrying South African gold and diamonds. The presence of plunder has a tactical relevance.” Raffles was reclining in his bunk, a hand behind his head. Flicking ash from his cigarette, he glanced across at Kern. “Tell me again about this man in Gibraltar whom you mentioned, Ivor.”
“Osmanazar?” Kern said. “As I told you, I don’t know him personally, but I’ve heard of him, just as he’ll have heard of me. He’s the biggest handler of stolen property in the Western Mediterranean. He works under cover of a shop in Gibraltar called Osmanazar’s Bazaar. I feel pretty sure he’ll let me use some back room in his place to carry out the work you want done.”
“So far, so good,” Raffles said. “One thing bothers me a bit, because of its total unpredictability. You remember, Bunny? I mean ‘the important personal service’ which the Governor was good enough to say I was ‘the very man’ to carry out for him. There’s a possible source of complication there. I wonder what His Excellency can want of me?”
The Governor was not at the dock in person — we had scarcely expected as much — when the tender chugged us ashore next day. In the noonday heat, the multi-hued flat-roofed houses which jostled in terraces up the precipitous side of the Rock sweltered visibly. As we set foot on the wharf, a young officer approached us. He wore a pipe-clayed helmet, scarlet tunic, skin-tight bottle-green trousers strapped under the instep, and small silver spurs. His hand was outstretched