Daisy Belle put out one cigarette and lighted another. Gili went to the mirror, combed out her hair, went to sprawl on her stomach in her bunk, her long hair over her face.
Dinner came eventually on trays, passed in to them by the seaman then on guard.
Gili, tossing back her long locks of hair questioned him. "Is there any news? What are they doing? Have they found who murdered him?"
But he mumbled something and went away. They heard the click of the lock and after that no one came near them. Lights were on in the cabin by that time and the ports were dark gray.
Night came early, due to the fog. There were eventually no sounds at all from the rest of the ship. They felt isolated and alone, as if they were traveling toward an unknown destiny in a ghost ship. It was curious, thought Marcia once, to realize that all around them the busy life of the hospital ship went on. In the cabin there was only the faraway throb of the ship's engines and the feeling of motion and the occasional distant sound of the ship's bell. And the three women, shut up together, each thinking her own thoughts.
Eventually, too, speaking only at intervals and then saying nothing, they got into the three narrow bunks. Daisy Belle turned out the light and there was only the soft shaft of faintly crimson light coming from the port opposite the door. Probably none of them slept. Certainly for Marcia the darkness, the occasional wail of the foghorn, the lap and rush of water outside all merely served to heighten and sharpen the questions that seemed to fill the cabin as if they had substance.
If Castiogne had been murdered in the lifeboat, who among them had done it and why? Why then was Para murdered? Was the figure in the red bathrobe with the bandaged, eyeless face that of Jacob Heinzer, the patient—and if so, why did he deny it? And if it was not, then who had assumed that disguise, and again, why?
Josh had answered that; but if Marcia were actually in danger (and those hands on her throat had been real; there was no question of that), what possible link was there between her and two Portuguese seamen v.hom she scarcely knew by name?
Again she could not extricate herself from endless circles of conjecture, which went around and around on themselves and arrived nowhere. Mickey and herself, Daisy Belle and Luther Cates, Gili, and the other seaman, Urdiola. Suddenly, in the night, her eyes wide open, staring at that soft band of crimson striking into the cabin from the port, it seemed to her that no one perhaps had paid enough attention to Urdiola, the small, swarthy seaman with the shifting dark eyes and the wizened monkeylike face. Certainly he must have known more of Para and of Castiogne than anyone else.
But the Captain had questioned him. He had questioned everybody from the Lerida. If he had extracted any information at all from Urdiola, he would have acted upon it.
Some time, still looking at the round, dimly lighted port, Marcia's eyes closed and blocked it out.
It was a long and weary night, with heavy fog, and the U.S.A.H.S. Magnolia pushing her sturdy way through it, with the Captain on the bridge all night. Although none of the patients and none of the survivors of the Lerida knew it, the night watch everywhere on the ship had been doubled.
Morning dawned gray and chilly, with the fog, if anything, heavier and the foghorn sounding at three-minute intervals.
It was that morning early that Urdiola was charged with murder and the other Lerida survivors were released.
Mickey came to the cabin on B deck. The foghorn was sounding again when he knocked, so Marcia did not know he was there until he opened the door. His eyes were bright and eager, going from one to the other of the three women in the cabin. He said, "Urdiola killed them both. He's arrested and" —his clear, light-gray eyes fastened on Daisy Belle—"he's got your diamond, Daisy Belle."
They were having breakfast. Daisy Belle, staring at Mickey, forgetting her tray, jumped up. The tray clattered to the floor, and Daisy Belle cried above the clash of china: "But Castiogne had my diamond!"
Marcia put down her own tray and reached to set upright the small pot which was pouring a stream of coffee on the floor. Mickey came quickly to kneel at Daisy Belle's feet and help pick up the spilled dishes. Gili did not move but sat rigid, exactly like a cat which is crouching, not moving a hair, until danger is past.
13
Even then Marcia noted that—probably first because Gili was nearest Daisy Belle and it would have been natural for her to move first to Daisy Belle's assistance,—and then she looked again because of that extraordinary stillness and because of the pasty, glistening look of fear which sprang instantly into Gili's face. She had seen that look in her face before. What then did it mean? And what did Daisy Belle mean? And for that matter Mickey?
He was speaking to Daisy Belle: "I'm sorry I startled you. Here, do sit down and I'll get you more coffee, more everything. I'm afraid this is pretty well gone."
Daisy Belle sat down on the bunk very stiffly. Her fine, long face was gray, her eyes were topaz-bright and blank. She said: "I gave it to Castiogne. That is, Luther gave it to him. It was to pay for our passage. It was a bribe. . . ."
Mickey, bending over the spilled dishes, scooping up egg cup and a sliced orange said: "Yes, of course. That's what Luther told them. He recognized it at once." He rose, opened the door and spoke to the seaman who was still on guard. "Can you get another breakfast tray in here? That's right. Thank you." He turned back into the cabin. "Furthermore," he said, "and after due consideration, we are all released. They just haven't got around to informing you three yet."
Daisy Belle said: "Tell me what happened. Tell me . . .''
Gili still did not move, but it was as if everything about her listened. Mickey sat down on Marcia's bunk, directly opposite Daisy Belle, and reached up to draw Marcia down beside him. "Well, it's a short story," he said, "but a convincing one. Naturally it looked from the first as if Castiogne's death and then Para's were actually the result of some sort of private feud among the three Lerida seamen. I mean—well . . ." he shrugged. "None of us had anything to do with them and they might have had any number of grudges and fights and God knows what. I can't see why one of them would take a punch at me, or, for that matter, hurt Marcia, unless of course whoever did it had some reason to think one or both of us had witnessed the murder of Castiogne. As I certainly didn't and neither did Marcia."
Daisy Belle's brown, battered hands made a quickly controlled gesture of impatience. Mickey saw it and went on: "Well, everybody else thought so too. It's an obvious conclusion. They questioned Urdiola at length yesterday. He wouldn't admit anything, said he hadn't even seen Para since early yesterday morning. They weren't satisfied. They searched his bunk yesterday and Para's bunk, next to him, and found only Para's seaman's papers and no money tucked under the blanket. Well, they thought it was odd that there was no money at all with the papers. So they gave Urdiola a real search and found some money and the diamond."
"Did Luther"—Daisy Belle was gripping her hands hard— "did Luther identify it?"
"Of course, right away. As to that, Urdiola broke down immediately and said he'd got it from Para, or rather that Para had given it to him."
"Para gave it to him!" cried Daisy Belle. "But it was Castiogne . . ."