Leith said, “Most interesting. I think I’ll take up skeet shooting... And by the way, tomorrow afternoon at two o’clock when Silman Shore is putting on his exhibition, I think it would be an excellent idea for you to be with the purser, and you’ll kindly tell Ora Sanders to hunt up the first mate who has been so attentive to her and spend about an hour with him.”
Mah Foy thought for a moment. “How about Scuttle?”
Leith grinned and said, “Let Scuttle be wherever he pleases.”
“And you?” she asked.
Leith smiled. “I think,” he said, “that I’ll have some business with the captain.”
Mah Foy said very gently, “That first necklace — as I glimpsed it hanging on the edge of the frying pan — seemed to be the Empress Dowager’s necklace.”
“Did it indeed?” Leith said smiling. “An excellent example of optical illusion.”
She said, “My first loyalty is to my country. I warn you.”
Leith smiled at her. “I wouldn’t want it to be otherwise,” he said.
It was a calm day with no wind. The sharp prow of the Monterey hissed through the water. Passengers, promenading the spotless decks or sprawled lazily in deck chairs, relaxed to the joys of ocean travel.
Katiska Shogiro paced the deck alone. His short, stubby legs propelled his torso with short, vigorous steps. His lips were no longer smiling. When Silman Shore stepped out of the smoking room to lounge against the rail, Shogiro saw him and stopped beside him.
“Excussse pleassse,” he said. “You are recollecting last night?”
“What about it?” Shore asked.
“Pardon intrusion upon your honorable thoughts, but did you notice necklace which came from frying pan?”
Shore snapped his fingers. “Bosh!”
“Not bosh,” Shogiro insisted. “I am particularly calling attention to necklace which you saw on night of Sansone dinner. Is not look the same?”
“I didn’t even look at it,” Shore said impatiently. “I hate all that kindergarten stuff. The minute he started pulling that old hokum, I got up and walked out.”
“Thanking you very much,” Shogiro said, and resumed pacing the deck, but this time his forehead was creased in a definite frown.
Charles Sansone sought out Leith.
“You’ll pardon me,” he said, “for intruding. I haven’t met you. My name’s Sansone. I was a very interested spectator at your performance last night.”
Leith shook hands and said, “I’m very glad to know you. I’m afraid my performance was rather crude, but then, when persons are traveling on shipboard, any form of spontaneous entertainment is interesting.”
“I was particularly interested in one phase of your performance,” Sansone said.
“Indeed. What was that?”
“When you made the necklace come out of the frying pan.”
Leith laughed deprecatingly. “I’m afraid,” he said, “I can’t explain how that was done.”
“I don’t want to know how it was done,” Sansone said. “I want to know where you got that necklace.”
Leith said, laughing, “You didn’t think it was composed of genuine pearls, did you?”
“I didn’t know,” Sansone said. “It looked very much like a necklace I saw at one time. I don’t know whether you’ve read about it or not.”
“Read about it?” Leith asked.
“Yes. A necklace which was stolen from Mr. Shogiro — unfortunately at a dinner where I was the host.”
“Oh!” Leith exclaimed.
“I’m rather surprised at your surprise,” Sansone told him dryly, “inasmuch as you have engaged the young woman who was formerly my secretary, and have apparently cultivated at least a speaking acquaintance with Shogiro.”
“Just what are you getting at?” Leith asked. “As far as the necklace is concerned, it was a part of the stage properties which I use in my act.”
“Doesn’t it impress you as being a remarkable coincidence,” Sansone asked, “that a stage property which you acquired at a house dealing in parlor magic would be almost an exact duplicate of a pearl necklace which was worn by the Empress Dowager of China?”
“What the devil are you insinuating?”
Sansone got to his feet. “Nothing,” he said, and then added significantly, “as yet. I’m something of a magician myself.”
He bowed and walked away.
A deck steward made the rounds of the deck, tapping on the ship’s xylophone, and calling out, “Trapshooting on the afterdeck, please. An exhibition of trapshooting by a national champion.”
Passengers started getting up from chairs, stretching, yawning, and drifting toward the stern. After a while, the popping of a gun could be heard as blue rocks sailed out over the water, only to vanish into puffs of powder as a charge of well-directed shot struck them.
Silman Shore seemed rather bored by what he was doing. His manner was that it was kindergarten stuff.
Bang! Bang!
There wasn’t a single miss.
At length, Shore finished, acknowledged the applause, placed his gun under his arm, and turned back toward his stateroom.
Charles Sansone, walking along the deck, said, “Just a word with you, Shore, if you don’t mind.”
The two men talked together in low tones for about fifteen minutes. Together they strolled back to the cabin occupied by the trap-shooter. Shore’s eyes were narrowed in thoughtful consideration.
“By George,” he said, with his hand on the knob of the door, “it doesn’t seem possible. Of course, I know some of these gem thieves are pretty slick, but—”
He opened the door and stood on the threshold in dismay. His cabin was a complete mess. Trunks had been opened and the contents of the drawers dumped on the floor. Clothes had been jerked from hangers in the closet and thrown to the far end of the stateroom. Some of the leather bags had actually been cut in an attempt to expose false bottoms.
Sansone said, “What’s this?”
Shore said, “I’ve evidently been robbed.”
He entered the stateroom, walked rapidly across to one of the open drawers, took out a roll of currency and a book of travelers’ checks. He faced Sansone significantly. “The one who did it,” he said, “wasn’t looking for money.”
Sansone said, “Come on. We’re going to see the captain.”
The captain received them in his stateroom, said, “Good afternoon, gentlemen. I wonder if you’re acquainted with Mr. Leith, our amateur magician.”
Leith was sitting in one of the leather-cushioned chairs.
“You’re damn right we’re acquainted with him,” Sansone said. “He broke into Shore’s cabin and — well, he stole—”
“Just a minute,” the captain interrupted. “Who did you say stole what?”
“Mr. Leith — that is—”
“When was this done?” the captain asked.
Shore said, “Sometime in the last half hour. It is now 2:35. I left my cabin at two o’clock. It was all right then.”
The captain looked at his watch and said, “Mr. Leith has been with me for the last forty-five minutes. We chatted until two o’clock when the skeet shooting started. We walked back along the boat deck, saw some of the blue rocks being broken, then came back here, and sat down. Now then, if you gentlemen have anything to report, report it, but I’ll thank you to refrain from making any unfounded accusations.”
The men exchanged glances. Shore, somewhat crestfallen, said, “Well, someone broke into my cabin and wrecked it looking for something.”
“I’ll go with you,” the captain said, “at once. You’ll pardon me, Mr. Leith?”
“Certainly,” Leith said.
The three men walked off. A few moments later Leith strolled down to his own cabin. He opened the door, glanced inside, and then walked back down to where the captain was appraising the damage in Shore’s stateroom. “Pardon me,” he said. “I don’t like to interrupt, but if you gentlemen think this cabin is a mess, come take a look at mine...”