"He said that Para, yesterday morning early, had given him a little packet and told him to hold it for him, and, if anything should happen, to send it to Para's wife. The Captain asked why Para did that, why did he think he was in danger, and Urdiola said he didn't know. Oh, his story is very thin, very specious. At any rate he said then that he didn't see Para again but he heard of the murder a few minutes before they sent for him to question him. So he scurried back to their bunks. Nobody was around. He unwrapped the packet, found Para's papers, a little money and the diamond. He slipped Para's papers under the blanket of Para's bunk, put the money with his own, and hid the diamond in his shoe."
"Do you mean," Daisy Belle was leaning forward, her face an anxious, lined mask, "do you mean that the Captain believes he murdered both Castiogne and Para for the diamond? My diamond," she said in a tone of horror.
"There's nothing else to think," said Mickey. "He's a stupid fellow. Only a stupid fellow would try to get away with a story like that. And only a greedy and stupid fellow would murder like that, for a jewel. Probably he thinks it's much more valuable than it is. Although," said Mickey, looking rather searchingly at Daisy Belle, "it is a very large and very fine gem. I had a look at it. The Captain sent for me and Luther immediately to ask us if we knew anything of it or, rather, to ask Luther. He'd know I'd never have money enough to own a jewel like that. So Urdiola wasn't so far wrong if he got the idea that he'd never in his dull life have a chance to get hold of that much wealth again. Everything," said Mickey rather slowly, "is relative. What's only a trinket to you, Daisy Belle, is a lifetime of ease to a man like Urdiola. It's a sound motive for murder, all right."
She moved her lips but did not speak. Mickey went on: "Naturally, they believe either that Para murdered Castiogne for the diamond and that Urdiola knew it and in his turn murdered Para for the same reason. Probably, in that case, it was actually suggested to him by Para's killing of Castiogne. Urdiola's got about the intelligence of an ape and I, personally, doubt whether he'd think up anything very enterprising on his own initiative. Either that, or Urdiola murdered Castiogne for the stone, and Para knew it and wanted to split with him—threatened him maybe with disclosure, unless Urdiola came across with part or all of the proceeds. Of course Urdiola insists that all three of them were the best of friends. Particularly Castiogne and Para. He says they were boyhood pals, inseparable. Told each other everything. That's Urdiola's story!" Again Mickey shrugged. "It's hard to say. Probably we'll never know. But the motive's there, all right. And the murderer."
"Has he"—Daisy Belle wet her lips—"has he confessed?"
"Oh, no. He has barely the wit to stick to his story and deny murder. He'll keep on denying it, I suppose. He just stands there and shakes his head."
"Where is Luther?" said Daisy Belle.
"Still with the Captain, I imagine."
Daisy Belle got up. "Where is my coat, Marcia? What did I do with it? I've got to see Luther, . . ."
"But Daisy Belle, your breakfast. Wait . . ."
"Here it is." She found the nurse's coat and flung it around her shoulders and turned intently to Mickey. "Are we really free? Can I go? Will the guard stop me?"
"I don't think so. . . ."
The guard didn't stop her. Perhaps he had, as they talked, received orders to let them go. Daisy Belle's coat flashed through the door and she was gone.
Then Gili, who had not moved, Gili, who had not spoken, Gili, who had waited and listened and all but held her breath, got up too, in one sudden, lithe motion, reached for her coat, hung it around her shoulders and gave Mickey a swift green glance. "I'm going too," she said. "I've been shut up in this hole too long. I'm going to get some fresh air." She reached the door and put her strong white hand upon it and paused, as if she were waiting, invitingly, her green eyes holding Mickey's.
But Mickey leaned back against the bulkhead and shoved his hands in his pockets. "It's foggy out," he said.
Still for an instant Gili waited. Then, as Mickey did not move, she bit her lip, opened the door, said: "I'll be on the boat deck . . ." and left the cabin, closing the door hard behind her.
Marcia said: "But she—Mickey, she wanted you to go with her!"
"Nonsense," said Mickey, lounging back and staring absently at the bulkhead.
"But she—she almost demanded it. As if . . ." She was about to say, puzzled and quickly, "As if she had a right to demand it." She stopped the words on her lips. And Mickey said, still staring at the bulkhead, in an absent, careless tone: "Oh, Gili's always that way."
Something was in Marcia's throat, swelling and beating. She waited for a moment, looking at Mickey, who still stared absently at the bulkhead.
"Always . . ." said Marcia finally.
And Mickey said: "Always quick-tempered. Always going off on tangents. Hard to manage . . ." He stopped abruptly and his clear gray eyes focused and sharpened. He turned to Marcia quickly. "That is," he said, "she seems so to me . . . '' he stopped.
Marcia said: "How long have you known her, Mickey?"
His gray eyes, almost as gray as the fog but very clear around the sharp, black pupils, opened wider. "Gili?"
"Yes. Tell me, Mickey—exactly."
"But you know. She was in Lisbon. What do you mean?"
She swallowed hard. "Tell me the truth, Mickey. She has your cigarette case. She called you Mickey."
"I don't know what you mean! Don't be a fool! I don't know Gili at all, except on that damned little ship, and before that I saw her around the bars in Lisbon. If she's got my cigarette case she . . ." he shrugged. He got up and stood above her his hands thrust in his pockets, his eyes angry now, bright and wide in his thin face. "She may have taken it, borrowed it, I don't know. I don't remember. If she knows my name, you told her."
"No, no, Mickey, I didn't. . . ."
"What did she say? Did she call me Mickey? Then she's heard you call me Mickey. I've begged you not to."
"She said ..." Her voice sounded tight and harsh; she made herself go on. "She said that you came back to me because I had some money, enough for you and Gili."
His eyes were suddenly bright and fixed with anger. He did not speak for a moment, only stood there looking down with that angry brightness. Then he cried: "You believed her! Marcia, how could you? Have you questioned her?"
"Questioned Gili?"
"You've been shut up here all night together. You've had time and opportunity to talk."
"This is between you and me, not Gili. . . ."
His face cleared. He cried: "You were right, darling! You are always right. Gili doesn't matter."
She said slowly: "Mickey, you spoke as if you knew her well. As if you'd known her a long time. As if the things she said could have been true."
"Marcia, listen to me. Answer me. Do you believe me or Gili?"
She did not reply. He added suddenly, watching her: "You've known me for five years—Gili about five days. And you'd take her word against mine?"
She put back her head and met his eyes. She said directly: "Are you in love with her?"
"In love with Gili!" cried Mickey, and laughed. He took her hands and kissed them lightly. "You're jealous. You're a silly child. You know that I love you. I came back to you. Nothing, nobody else means anything to me. I love you." He straightened up and looked straight down into her eyes with his own clear, gray gaze and said: "You do believe me, don't you? Never mind, my darling. I'll get Gili. I'll make her take back whatever silly things she has told you."
"No, no . . ."
"Yes, yes, I will. I'm not going to have her upsetting you with any such nonsense."
"Mickey, why would she say anything like that?"
He stared at her for an instant and then shrugged and smiled. "Gili doesn't need a motive. Surely you can see what kind of a woman she is. She did it out of—I don't know what —mischief, malice. Because she likes men, and at the risk of sounding as if I like myself, perhaps she settled on me!" He laughed and said: "After all, you like me. Perhaps she thinks she might, if she could get me detached from you. Not that she'd have a chance . . . Oh, Marcia, darling, don't look so serious. I'm only joking, A bad joke," said Mickey sobering swiftly. "But she isn't worth a serious thought. Believe me, my darling. I'll go and get her. . . ."