The False Inspector Dew

She was glad she did. She felt exhilarated by the sight of the great vessel steaming towards them, its black hull turning blue water into foam, its white superstructure lined with waving figures. Signals boomed across the water. Both ships stopped within a few hundred yards of each other and a tender was set down to exchange mail. There was more waving as the turbines turned again and the whistles joined in salute. Alma watched until only the steam from the Berengaria's three funnels could be seen. She had not noticed until then that Johnny was beside her. She found that she did not mind.

'You know of course that she was launched by the Kaiser,' he informed her. 'She was the Imperalor until Cunard took her over as their flagship. Spoils of war. She's still a glorious ship. It doesn't worry me. I think there's a lot to be said for sailing under different colours, wouldn't you agree, Mrs Baranov?'

If the blood rose to Alma's cheeks, it might not have been noticed in the bracing wind. She gave a neutral smile.

'That's just my way of broaching the subject of the fancy dress ball tomorrow,' said Johnny. 'You're going, of course?'

'I haven't given it a thought.'

'Nor me, until this morning. Some of these people bring their costumes ready made, proper professional things, but I don't care for that. I think it should be more spontaneous, don't you?'

'Well, yes, I didn't bring a costume.'

'Quite right, my dear. I can promise you, if you'd taken all the trouble to bring your best crinoline and your wig and your box of oranges, there would sure to be at least two other Nell Gwynnes to ruin your enjoyment.'

Alma laughed. 'What will you come as?'

'That's the point. I haven't quite decided. I'm trying to think of something quite original. I did have one rather topical idea. How would I look as DrCrippen?'

She tried to smile.

'Not bad, eh?' said Johnny.

'I think it would not be appreciated by everyone,' said Alma.

'Perhaps you're right. I'm too tall anyway. He was a little fellow, wasn't he? Difficult to do. People would be sure to think I was a politician. As a matter of fact, I have got a better idea, but I need some help with it. Pardon me for asking, my dear, but are you handy with a needle and thread?'

'It depends what you have in mind.'

'Nothing too elaborate. A few tucks here and there.' Johnny smiled to himself. 'By Jove, it's a winner, this one. Now we must think of something for you.'

4

After lunch Jack Gordon went to look for Inspector Dew. He found him seated in an armchair between the piano and a potted palm in the main lounge. He appeared to be asleep. Jack spoke his name and there was no response. He repeated it. He touched the Inspector's hand.

Walter jerked his hand away. He opened his eyes.

'Inspector Dew?' said Jack for the third time, i'm sorry to disturb you.'

'What is it?'

'My name is Gordon, Jack Gordon. Is it convenient to speak about the matter you are investigating?'

'That? Oh, yes. Can you find a chair?'

Jack collected one from the other side of the palm and positioned it opposite Walter.

'Not there,' said Walter. 'Slightly to the right. I want a clear view of the lounge.' He winked at Jack. 'Observation.'

Jack glanced over his shoulder along the Inspector's line of vision, but all he could see were two clergymen playing draughts.

'What did you wish to say, Mr Collins?'

'Gordon. I thought I'd speak to you before you came looking for me. I was with Miss Masters on the evening she was killed. I was playing cards with her in the smoking room. I was her partner at whist. It's obvious that you will want a statement from me.'

'And very public-spirited of you to volunteer it, Mr Collins.'

'It's Gordon, actually, Inspector.'

'I heard the first time, Mr Collins. No offence, but I make a practice of addressing witnesses by their surnames. Tell me about this game of whist. Who were your opponents?'

'A young American couple. His name is Westerfield, I think.'

Walter took out a pencil and notebook, i'd better make a note of it. I'm hopeless with names. I usually leave this to the nurse.'

Jack gave an uneasy laugh. 'Yes.'

'And the name of Mr Westerfield's partner?'

'That's difficult. She's called Barbara. I didn't catch the surname.'

'Not to worry, Mr Collins. I'll find it out in my own way. I'm more concerned about Miss Masters at the moment. You were friends, I gather?'

'No. We hadn't met before Saturday evening. The whole game was got up after dinner. I found myself sitting in here with Mr Westerneld. While we were talking, Miss Masters came round asking people if they wanted to help with the ship's concert. Neither of us was too enthusiastic, but we agreed to play a few rubbers of whist instead. She was quite keen on the idea. Paul — Mr Westerneld — went off to ask Barbara if she would be his partner.'

'And was it an agreeable game?'

'For most of it, yes.' Jack folded his arms and unfolded them. 'Well, you're going to hear about this from somebody, so I'd better tell you. There was a sort of misunderstanding at the end. Paul and Barbara won the deciding rubber. Miss Masters and I didn't play all that well together after the first few hands. She criticised my play. It nettled me. At the end she took out a banknote to pay the others their winnings. I don't know how familiar you are with what goes on between card-players on ships, Inspector, but no-one puts money across the table in a public room. I was quite sharp with her. I told her in a few short words that it wasn't done. Then I left them. I think she was about to burst into tears, and I can't stand that.' He gave a shrug. 'There it is. I'm sure you appreciate how badly I feel about it.'

'I wouldn't take it too much to heart,' Walter advised him. 'It's not as if she committed suicide. I can tell you confidentially that she was strangled.'

'I heard a rumour to that effect,' said Jack. He leaned forward in his chair. His lips had suddenly gone pale and his eyes fixed on Walter with extraordinary intensity. 'You must find the devil who did it, Inspector. He must hang for it.'

Walter nodded. He eased a finger gently round his collar.

'You will catch him?' said Jack.

'God willing,' answered Walter.

'I don't know how you begin to account for a vicious crime like this.'

Walter sat unmoving like the sphinx.

'There was no reason for it,' Jack continued, it was senseless. You're dealing with a maniac'

'Who do you think?' asked Walter interestedly.

Jack blinked. 'I've no idea. I just want to see him caught.'

'You were sitting opposite Miss Masters during the game,' said Walter, 'so you must have seen her hands.'

'What do you mean? I don't cheat.'

'Not the cards, Mr Collins. I mean her hands. Literally, her hands. Do you remember whether she was wearing a ring on the third finger of her left hand?'

Jack shook his head. 'She was unmarried. You know she was a spinster.'

'She might have been engaged.'

'She was not wearing a ring.'

Walter made a note in his book. He looked up and said, 'Was there anything else, Mr Collins?'

'Yes, there is. May I have your notebook and pencil?'

Walter's eyes widened, but he handed the book and pencil to Jack.

Jack wrote in his name. He said, 'Just for the record, Inspector.' He handed it back. 'Don't hesitate to ask me if you need any help.'

'Thank you,' said Walter. 'Thank you very much.'

He waited for Jack to leave the lounge. Then he got up and went to ask a steward to point out Paul Westerfield.

Paul was on the boat deck. He was playing in the first round of the deck tennis tournament. This involved throwing a rubber ring over a badminton net. The court had been marked in chalk on the deck. Paul's opponent was a middle-aged Englishman who compensated for his inferior agility by cunning use of the macaroni shot, which caused the ring to wobble distractingly in mid-air. It was also possible that the presence of Walter on the sideline in his bowler hat contributed to Paul's loss of concentration. He lost the deciding game conclusively. He shook the winner's hand. A young woman handed him his sweater.