Alleyn said, “Good-night, everybody.” He followed the Cuddys into the passageway, turned left and went out to the deck by the port side door. He was just in time to see Mrs. Dillington-Blick disappear round the verandah corner of the engine house. Before he could reach it she returned, paused for a second when she saw him and then swam gaily towards him.
“Just one gulp of fresh air,” she said rather breathlessly. She slipped her arm through his and quite deliberately leaned against him.
“Help me negotiate that frightful ladder, will you? I want to go down to the lower deck.”
He glanced back at the lounge. There they all were, lit up like a distant peep show.
“Why the lower deck?”
“I don’t know. A whim.” She giggled. “Nobody will find me for one thing.”
The companion ladder was close to where they stood. She led him towards it, turned and gave him her hands.
“I’ll go backwards. You follow.”
He was obliged to do so. When they reached the promenade deck she took his arm again.
“Let’s see if there are ghost fires tonight.”
She looked over the side still holding him.
Alleyn said, “You’re much too dangerous a person for me, you know.”
“Do you really think so?”
“I do indeed. Right out of my class. I’m a dull dog.”
“I don’t find you so.”
“How enchanting of you,” Alleyn said. “I must tell my wife. That’ll larn her.”
“Is she very attractive?”
Suddenly, in place of the plushy, the abundant, the superbly tended charms now set before him, Alleyn saw his wife’s head with its clearly defined planes, its delicate bone and short, not very tidy hair.
He said, “I must leave you, I’m afraid. I’ve got work to do.”
“Work? What sort of work, for heaven’s sake?”
“Business letters. Reports.”
“I don’t believe you. In mid-ocean!”
“It’s true.”
“Look! There are ghost fires.”
“And I don’t think you’d better stay down here by yourself. Come along. I’ll see you to your cabin.”
He put his hand over hers. “Come along,” he repeated. She stared at him, her lips parted.
“All right!” she agreed suddenly. “Let’s.”
They returned by the inside stairway and he took her to her door.
“You’re rather nice,” she whispered.
“Lock your door, won’t you?”
“Oh, good heavens!” said Mrs. Dillington-Blick and bounced into her cabin. He heard her shoot her bolt and he returned quickly to the lounge.
Only Father Jourdain, Tim and Captain Bannerman were there. Miss Abbott came in by the double doors as Alleyn arrived. Tim furtively signalled “thumbs up,” and Father Jourdain said “Everybody seems to be going to bed early tonight.”
“It’s not all that early,” Captain Bannerman rejoined, staring resentfully at Miss Abbott.
She stopped dead in the middle of the room and with her eyes downcast seemed to take in the measure of her own unwantedness.
“Good-night,” she said grudgingly and went out.
Father Jourdain followed her to the landing. “By the way,” Alleyn heard him say, “I got that word in the Ximenes. It’s ‘holocaust.’ ”
“How brilliant!” she said. “That should be a great help/’
“I think so. Good-night.”
“Good-night.”
Father Jourdain came back: “ ‘Safely stowed,’ ” he quoted and smiled at Alleyn.
Alleyn asked sharply, “Where’s everybody else?”
“It’s O.K.,” Tim rejoined. “The women are all in their cabins; at least I suppose you’ve accounted for the D-B, haven’t you?”
“And the men?”
“Does it matter? Cuddy went off with his wife and McAngus, very properly, by himself. Merryman toddled off some time after that.”
“And Dale?”
“He left after the Cuddys,” Tim said.
“I think,” Father Jourdain observed, “that someone must have gone out on deck?”
“Why?”
“Only because I thought I heard someone singing.” His voice faded and his face blanched. “But there’s nothing in that!” Father Jourdain ejaculated. “We can’t panic every time somebody sings.”
“I can!” Alleyn said grimly.
“With the women all in their cabins? Why?”
Captain Bannerman interjected, loudly scoffing, “You may well ask why! Because Mr. Ah-leen’s got a bee in his bonnet. That’s why!”
“What had McAngus got to say to you?” Alleyn asked him.
The captain glowered at him. “He reckons someone’s been interfering with his hyacinths.”
“Interfering?”
“Pinching them.”
“Damnation!” Alleyn said and turned to go out.
Before he could do so, however, he was arrested by the sound of thudding feet.
It came from the deck outside and was accompanied by torturous breathing. For a moment the brilliant square cast by the light in the lounge was empty. Then into it ran an outlandish figure, half-naked, wet, ugly, gasping.
It was Cuddy. When he saw Alleyn he fetched up short, grinning abominably. Water ran from his hair into his open mouth.
“Well?” Alleyn demanded. “What is it?”
Cuddy gestured meaninglessly. His arm quivered like a branch.
“What is it? Speak up! Quickly.”
Cuddy lunged forward. His wet hands closed like clamps on AHeyn’s arms.
“Mrs. Dillington-Blick,” he stuttered and the syllables dribbled out with the water from his mouth. He nodded two or three times, came close to Alleyn and then threw back his head and broke into sobbing laughter.
“The verandah?”
“What the bloody hell are you talking about?” the captain shouted.
Cuddy nodded and nodded.
Alleyn said, “Captain Bannerman, will you come with me, if you please? And Dr. Makepiece.” He struck up Cuddy’s wet arms and thrust him aside. He started off down the deck with them both at his heels.
They had gone only a few paces when a fresh rumpus broke out behind them. Cuddy’s hysterical laughter had mounted to a scream.
Father Jourdain shouted, “Dr. Makepiece! Come back!”
There was a soft thud and silence.
Captain Bannerman said, “Wait a bit. He’s fainted.”
“Let him faint.”
“But—”
“All right. All right.”
He strode on down the deck. There was a light in the deck-head over the verandah. Alleyn switched it on.
The Spanish dress was spread out wide, falling in black cascades on both sides of the chaise longue. Its wearer lay back, luxuriously, each gloved hand trailing on the deck. The head was impossibly twisted over the left shoulder. The face was covered down to the tip of the nose by part of the mantilla which had been dragged down like a blind. The exposed area was livid and patched almost to the colour of the mole at the corner of the mouth. The tongue protruded, the plump throat already was discoloured. Artificial pearls from a broken necklace lay scattered across the décolletage, into which had been thrust a white hyacinth.
“All right,” Alleyn said without turning. “It’s too late, of course, but you’d better see if there’s anything you can do.”
Tim had come up with Captain Bannerman behind him. Alleyn stood aside. “Only Dr. Makepiece, please,” he said. “I want as little traffic as possible.”
Tim stooped over the body.
In a moment he had straightened up.
“But, look here!” he said. “It’s not — it’s — it’s—”