But her mind was clearer; by snatches the whole nightmare was revealed and it was not a nightmare; it was a murderous attack upon her.
As it had been upon Mickey.
But why?
What had they brought from that sinister, harried little lifeboat onto this ship?
She sat up and was pushing away the blanket, dizzy still, confused, when the door opened again and a nurse came into the room.
More time than she had realized must have passed while Marcia groped backward into the blackness of the nightmare. The nurse knew everything; someone must have had time to tell her, to explain. She came to Marcia and said quickly: "Everything is all right. Your—your friend slipped on the deck and was hurt but not seriously. Major Strong—that's the doctor who was here—took him to the other dispensary to dress his wound. He struck his head against the bulkhead, but it is nothing serious. Do you understand?"
"Someone was there. . . ."
"Major Strong said you were not to talk and not to worry. I'm to stay here with you. Are you warm?"
"There by the lifeboats, in the shadow. I heard something move. I felt it. . . ."
"You're not to talk." The young nurse smiled. Her face was young and pretty, her eyes were firm. She pulled up the blanket again. "I'm going to sit here by you. Don't talk."
"Who was it?" whispered Marcia, searching the nurse's face for knowledge. But the nurse shook her head; her face was unreadable. And suddenly drowsiness and calm seemed to enter the shining room, with the nurse in her crisp uniform and cap, sitting on the foot of the cot within reach of Marcia's hand. She seemed to Marcia everything that was normal and staunch and American. Her very presence denied the nightmare that had reached out of the fog, there on the black curve of the deck.
Murder had been in the lifeboat; not here, thought Marcia drowsily, not here. Her eyes closed heavily against the light.
Actually, of course, she had not yet recovered from the horror and strain of the previous night. Actually, she was still unutterably weary with nerves strained and taut. She slept suddenly, like a child, secure again in the presence of the nurse and in the things the nurse had said. Mickey really was all right.
Only it hadn't been an accident.
The nurse must have moved quietly to turn off the ceiling light. When Marcia suddenly was aroused there was a small, green-shaded desk light on the table at the opposite side of the room. She was drowsy from the pill the doctor had given her; she had a confused sense of much time having passed. The nurse was beside her saying, quietly: "Miss Colfax—Miss Colfax . . ."
She sat up, blinking. There were other people in the room. Captain Svendsen was removing an oilskin that glistened with moisture, Josh Morgan was there, too, still in uniform, and another man also in army uniform—a tall thin man, forty or so, with a thin face and very intelligent, quick, brown eyes who looked at her sharply and came over to the cot to put his hand on her wrist. He wore a lieutenant colonel's insignia, and the medical caduceus. She had not seen him before, but there was an air of authority about him which was instantly recognizable. He said: "Miss Colfax, I am Colonel Wells. I'm sorry I haven't had a chance to see you before. I've been busy." His fingers were delicate and sure on her wrist. His eyes were extraordinarily perceptive and swift. He said: "Pulse seems to be steady enough."
The nurse said: "She's been sleeping, sir." She glanced down at Marcia. "Colonel Wells is our medical commanding officer, Miss Colfax."
Captain Svendsen, his thick white eyebrows glistening with fog, sighed and sat down. Josh Morgan leaned against an examining table. Colonel Wells said quietly: "Miss Colfax, Captain Svendsen wishes you to tell us what happened to you." He looked at the Captain. "I think she's able to talk, Captain. She's had a bit of a shock, I imagine, but that's all."
She glanced at Josh Morgan, who was looking at her, soberly, his eyes very intent, yet somehow encouraging.
Captain Svendsen ran his hand over his thick yellow hair impatiently. "I've got to get back to the bridge. Now then. Miss Colfax, what happened? Colonel Morgan says he found you on the deck, and then found Messac, knocked unconscious. Messac says he slipped and hit his head on the bulkhead. But Colonel Morgan said that you claimed somebody tried to put you overboard. Now then, what exactly do you mean?"
She could still feel the movement of a presence in the shadow near her. She could still hear the rushing of the black water in the wake of the ship, far below.
Colonel Wells, watching her keenly, said: "Take it easy, Miss Colfax."
Obviously there was skepticism, which was quite natural. So she must keep her voice even, tell them briefly and quietly what had happened.
She tried to do so. She had found Andre—she remembered to say Andre—unconscious on deck; she had gone for help and become confused; she had come out on the port side of the deck, opposite the way she had entered, had decided to go back to Andre, had hurried along the deck, intending to go around it, and just as she entered the shadow around the stern, had been—her voice faltered there and she was aware of a tense and strained silence on the part of the others—had been caught and forced toward the railing.
Perhaps the break in her voice, as much as her determined self-control, shook their skepticism. There was a short silence while Captain Svendsen frowned at her. The nurse made herself a very quiet but very alert piece of background, the medical commanding officer studied the toes of his shining brown shoes and Josh Morgan got out cigarettes. Captain Svendsen shook his head at Josh Morgan's offer of cigarettes and said heavily: "Do you mean somebody attacked you? Who was it?"
"I don't know. I couldn't see anything. It happened so suddenly."
"But that would be a deliberate attempt to murder you."
Put like that, in the slow, hard voice of the Captain, it was not conceivable; it could not have happened. Yet it was not conceivable either that murder had struck in that small, plunging lifeboat, before their eyes which yet did not perceive that quick and furtive presence. She met Captain Svendsen's cold blue eyes without speaking.
He said: "Who on the ship wants to murder you?"
That, too, came up against a wall of incomprehension. Attempted murder implies a deep and frightful intimacy.
"No one," she said. "No one."
The big blond master of the ship seemed to brood for a moment. Colonel Wells continued to study his boots, and Josh Morgan lighted a cigarette with considerable care and deliberation.
Captain Svendsen said: "See here. Miss Colfax, you may not understand the discipline of our ship. I needn't explain to you the details of the routine; but I cannot believe that any of the ship's staff or personnel, or any of our patients could have tried to murder you."
"Someone was there. . . ."
"If you please, hear me out. This is a hospital ship; details are important to the care of the men we are bringing home. We have been operating in war zones and we are still operating under the discipline required by that fact; we have not relaxed it in a single instance. So while obviously it is not possible to check on the whereabouts of every person, at every minute, yet in this case we can do so at least for a number of people with a fair amount of accuracy. When Major Strong reported this to Colonel Wells and Colonel Wells naturally informed me, I had the deck searched and I had a quick check made of ship's personnel and wards. As I say, it is impossible to make a complete check of every person on board a ship. But the fact remains that it is extremely unlikely that anyone of the Magnolia should attack you. You do understand this?"
"Yes. Yes, but . . ."
"In view of the fact that you had a very painful and exhausting experience in the lifeboat, and also that the man, Alfred Castiogne, was murdered, don't you think it possible that you are only nervous and frightened? Perhaps you slipped, perhaps you struck something there on deck. I don't doubt your good faith; but I think it possible that your nerves deceived you. Don't you?"