"It just strikes me," put in Percy Fearson, in his stolid Northern accent, "it just strikes me that if you were as upset about what Mr. Charles was doing with your wife as you pretend to be, then you'd have waited behind the cabin door for him and punched him on the nose, rather than left an Edison recording machine under the bed."
There was a silence. Then Lord FitzPerry said, "I won't accept anything less than six thousand pounds and a written apology."
"Fifteen hundred's my limit," said Edgar.
"Well, then," said Lord FitzPerry, "it's obviously going to have to be court."
Edgar said very gently, "I'm giving you one last chance, Lord FitzPerry."
"You're giving me one last chance!" declared Lord FitzPerry, puffing up his starched shirtfront like a belligerent pigeon.
"Lord FitzPerry," said Edgar, "it hasn't escaped my notice that you are a regular and notorious gambler. Neither has it escaped my notice that you recently sold most of the furniture from Wrekin Hall to pay off some of your creditors. I do read an occasional newspaper, you know. I don't know what you and Lady FitzPerry are actually playing at, but it strikes me that you are both engaged in what I can only call a game of extortion. You had to leave England for a while, to escape bankruptcy proceedings, and in the process you thought you'd make yourself a little extra money."
"I shall sue you for slander, as well as indecency,' bellowed Lord FitzPerry.
"You may certainly try," said Edgar. "But you'll have a difficult time proving either."
"I have this cylinder."
"The cylinder, Lord FitzPerry, belongs to the Keys Shipping Line. If you examine it closely, you will see the words, "Property of Keys Shipping Company Ltd," stamped around the end. If you attempt to remove that cylinder from this vessel, I will have you arrested for petty theft."
Lord FitzPerry began to look uncertain. "Nonetheless," he puffed, "what your officer did to my wife was inexcusable."
"Any more inexcusable than anything else your wife has done during the past ten years?"
Lord FitzPerry at last sat down. He said under his breath, 'It's quite barbaric, of course."
"You know what they say," replied Edgar. "We live in barbaric times."
Lord FitzPerry didn't know what to say. Edgar glanced across at Percy Fearson, and Percy Fearson shrugged. It was quite obvious to both of them who had devised this little scheme: Lady Diana FitzPerry herself. To seduce a ship's officer and then try to claim compensation from the shipping line was just her style. Most of her jewellery and her furs had probably been gifts from eminent suitors who had been alarmed at the prospect of their wives and colleagues finding out about their liaison with her. It was well known in Fleet Street that her diamond necklace had been given to her by the Standard Assurance Company, after she had amused herself with their chairman. Silence, in Lady Diana FitzPerry's book, was golden.
Edgar said, "I'll give you a cheque for fifteen hundred now, and in return you'll give me that cylinder. What's more, you'll agree to press no charges of assault."
Lord FitzPeny sighed.
"This is your last opportunity," said Edgar. "If you don't say yes now, then I'll have you thrown out of my stateroom, and you won't get a penny. If you want anything, you'll have to fight for it in the courts."
"Very well," said Lord FitzPerry at last. "Although I don't know what her ladyship will say."
Edgar went to his desk, sat down, and opened a drawer to take out a Keys chequebook. He wrote a cheque in green ink for 1,500 pounds, blotted it dry, and held it up to Lord FitzPerry. Lord FitzPerry accepted it glumly, and then handed over the Edison cylinder.
"here's one more thing," said Edgar. "I don't expect either you or Lady FitzPerry to travel on a Keys steamer again. If you apply for a cabin, I regret that all the accommodation will be filled."
Lord FitzPerry folded the cheque, tucked it into his breast pocket, and went to the door.
"I'm sorry your wife went to so much trouble for so little," said Edgar. "I just hope that our officer gave her some amusement, along with the work. Good afternoon."
Lord FitzPerry hesitated, as if he wanted to say something. But then he went out, and closed the door very precisely behind him.
FIFTY-EIGHT
Catriona was dressing to go out on deck that afternoon when Trimmer knocked on her door, and said, "Decent, Miss Keys? Might I come in?"
"Of course. I'm only doing my hair."
Alice said irritably, "Couldn't it wait?"
"I'm sorry, miss," said Trimmer. "I 'ave to get down to the laundry before the shift changes, just to make sure we get the right linen. Chaos it was yesterday."
"That Monty Willowby's been very lax this trip, I've noticed," said Alice. "Not like his usual self, not at all."
"Be fair, Alice," put in Trimmer. "The Arcadia's more than most pursers could 'andle."
"Is that for me?" Catriona asked him, nodding towards the brown envelope he was carrying.
"Ah, yes, Miss Keys. Found it in me scrapbook. Didn't know I kept a scrapbook, did you? Hevery trip I've been hon, I've halways kept a souvenir, something what reminds me hof heverything that 'appened."
"What will you keep from this trip?" asked Catriona, smiling.
"I 'opes to take a Blue Riband, Miss Keys, if we wins it. That'll be something, to beat the Mauretania, now won't it?"
He opened the envelope and produced a ship's cruising menu, printed in blue, with a colour painting of the ship pasted onto the front of it. Printed in silver script was the title SS Orange, and underneath "Mediterranean Cruise, 1911." Inside, there was a menu for Solferino Soup, Fried Fish with Orly Sauce, Prawn Curry, Sheep's Trotters, and Tapioca Pudding.
"That was the Orange. Thought you'd like to see 'ow she looked. Just has a matter hof hinterest."
"Well, thank you," said Catriona. "Do you mind if I keep this, and show it to Mr. Beeney?"
"By hall means, miss."
Mark Beeney came to call for Catriona at three; and together they promenaded gracefully around the first-class decks, Cartiona wearing a blue rep dress suit, checked socks and white golf shoes, and Mark in a blue and white striped yachting blazer and white ducks. It was a warm and exhilarating day. The Atlantic sparkled as brightly as if every lady in cabin class had tossed her diamonds into the ocean, and the orchestra played swooning tunes of love and silliness and youth.
Mark led her at last to the rail, and they looked back at the wide white wake that foamed ceaselessly from the Arcadia's stern. "This is when I love the sea," he said. "Look at it... it's marvellous."
Catriona said, "It always looks so lonely and empty to me."
"You don't feel lonely, do you?"
"A little."
He smiled. "That's not much of a compliment to me."
"Oh, I didn't mean that. I'm sorry. I was just thinking about my father. He put his heart and soul into this ship, and he never saw it cross the Atlantic. He would have been so proud."
Mark took out his cigarette case and offered Catriona a Sobranie.
"How's Marcia?" asked Catriona, trying to change the subject so that they wouldn't become too entangled in emotional arguments.
"Jumping off an ocean liner into mid-Atlantic is pretty serious."
"'Well, maybe. But she was rescued, wasn't she?"
Catriona touched his hand. "You don't have to feel quite so guilty about it, you know. I don't think anybody really blames you. In fact, some of the women seem to think it makes you even more glamorous. They love a hint of danger."