Then, that flying shape and Egyptian as well were hidden from him by the sedan.
"Stop!"
But Shaun was out on the running-board before his taximan had time to obey the order. He jumped, took one swift look, and hurled himself forward.
The Egyptian was dragging the girl into the sedan!
The hoarse warning of the Antonio's fog whistle blared deaf-eningly.
Shaun saw that the Egyptian driver had one arm around his struggling captive and a hand pressed over her mouth. He nearly had her into the sedan when Shaun's kick, calculated to thrust his backbone through his scalp, sent the man reeling to the ground. The girl slumped dizzily onto the car step. Shaun caught her. ^MaureenV he said tensely.
She didn't reply. Her eyes were closed, the lashes looking preposterously long as they drooped on her cheeks.
The Antonio's whistle roared a final warning as Shaun stooped and lifted Maureen. She was light as a child as he carried her to the taxi. "Right onto the dock," he told the man. "Drive like blazes… "
On board the Antonia the third officer came up to Lorkin, the purser, who stood at the head of the gangway. "Captain's compliments." He winked an ironic wink. "He wants to know if you've got all your sheep in their pens."
"Damn it, no! No! What d'you suppose I am standing here for?" Lorkin was in a very bad humour. "Two new passengers wished onto me by Cook's at the last minute — not arrived. And my pet headache — Miss Maureen Lonergan."
"Very attractive," the third murmured. "But the pilot's getting fussy."
"Tell him to jump in the ditch! My compliments to the captain — and I'm three passengers short."
On the deck above, rails were crowded. A rumour had spread that somebody was missing. This rumour gained strength when yet another deafening bellow came from the great ship's whistle. Shelley Downing, always in the know, ran up to Mrs Simmbnds. "It's Maureen who's missing," she said, "and Maureen was lunching with you!"
Mrs Simmonds turned an anxious face.
"I know she was. But she rushed off at the last minute to Simon Arzt's. Are you sure it's Maureen?"
"I just had the news — official!" Shelley nodded, and ran off, birdlike, to exploit her information. Mrs Simmonds turned again to the rail. A sudden commotion arose. A girl was being supported to the gangway by a man in a drill suit! She seemed to be ill. A boy followed on, carrying a leather grip. As they climbed up slowly to the deck Shelley cried shrilly, "It's Maureen!" and rushed to greet her.
A husky roar through a megaphone came from the bridge:
"Strike that gangway!"
"Strike that gangway!" a voice echoed from the dockside.
The heavy gangway had begun to swing clear, when a man came running. Two Arabs ran sweating behind him, shouldering baggage.
"Hold it!" the dockside voice commanded.
Down came the gangway — and up climbed the belated passenger who wore a white coat with a faint pink stripe. The Arab boys dropped their loads on the deck and raced down again to shore. "Strike that blasted gangway!" This final order from the bridge threatened to split the megaphone.
The gangway was swung clear of the ship.
Captain William McAndrew, RNVR, DSO, loved discipline and hated cruises…
"You're quite sure you feel all right?"
Maureen, lying on a bed in the surgery, looked up into Shaun Bantry's worried face with a sort of wonder. She had never expected to see him again.
"Quite sure."
"But a lucky escape," the ship's doctor declared. "And a most mysterious outrage."
"I couldn't agree with you more." Shaun stared at the doctor. "An attempt at abduction in broad daylight! What was the stuff on the sponge?"
"Ethyl chloride. No bad after effects."
"They gave it to me when I had my operation for tonsils." Maureen spoke in a low voice. "That was years back but I remember the smell." She sat up on the bed, smoothing her disordered hair. "You've been very kind, Mr Bantry. First you picked up my silly beads, and then you saved me from that awful man, and—" she forced a smile — "this time I have really taken you out of your way!"
"Not a bit of it! I booked a passage at Cook's half an hour ago!"
He grinned cheerfully, waved his hand and walked out of the surgery, leaving Maureen to think about the look in his eyes and to wonder if it could be possible that he had joined the Antonia just because… But, no! That idea was plain silly — stupid vanity.
Shaun, unpacking the one grip with which he had travelled from Paris to Istanbul, Istanbul to Cairo and Cairo to Port Said, was thinking he was lucky to have got a comfortable outside room at such short notice, and asking himself how long he was likely to occupy it. His job demanded swift decisions. The fact that Maureen was a passenger on the Antonia had helped him to make this one.
It seemed oddly like fate. He wondered if at last he had met the right woman. Certainly, that flushed piquant face all too often got between him and his job. But the job was what mattered first, and Shaun confessed himself to be the most hopelessly mystified man at that hour afloat on the Mediterranean.
Why had Theo Leidler booked passage on the Antonia'!
And was he really aboard? It was Leidler's driver who had attacked Maureen. Perhaps Leidler had made a last minute change of plan or waited so long that he missed the ship. If that had happened, Shaun would feel like a hundred per cent pure idiot. In the excitement of getting Maureen safely aboard, he would have let his quarry slip. He hadn't even the vaguest idea of the ship's next port of call.
Striding swiftly, he went up on deck.
Cruise passengers were crowding aft for a last glimpse of Port Said. Shaun attracted a lot of attention. He had been pointed out by Shelley Downing as the man who helped Maureen up the gangway. But he remained completely indifferent to the stares. He was looking for Leidler.
Suddenly he found Maureen, forward on the promenade deck, lying on a long chair. Then, the shock came. Theo Leidler sat very close to her, deep in earnest conversation.
Maureen looked up, beckoned eagerly, and Shaun, trying to show no sign of the utter bewilderment he felt, joined them.
She raised her glance to Leidler. "This is Mr. Shaun Ban-try."
Leidler showed two rows of perfect teeth. The effort could not be called a smile. He had changed into a smart white linen suit. Shaun noted that his perfectly waved hair was almost blue-black.
"I'm delighted to meet you, Mr Leidler."
"Won't you sit down? The next chair belongs to Mrs Sim-monds. She won't mind." Shaun sat down. "I was just telling Mr Leidler about what happened to me this morning."
Shaun glanced across at Leidler. The situation demanded tact. "Queer affair, wasn't it?" He met the gaze of illegible dark eyes. "Even in Port Said today such an outrage is unusual, wouldn't you say?"
"More than unusual." Theo Leidler had a slight accent: he was believed to be Romanian. "I can only suppose that Miss Lonergan had attracted the attention of some wealthy Egyptian connoisseur. It was most fortunate that someone was near."
"I thought so, too. And your theory is good. Except that old French sedan hardly looked like the property of a pasha."
Leidler shrugged his shoulders.
"You wouldn't expect him to send his own automobile on such a business?"
"No." Shaun looked thoughtful. "I expect it was hired for the purpose. I'm sorry that I hadn't time to call the police."
"Then the man got clear away?" A faint note of eagerness crept into Leidler's voice.
"I'm afraid he did. But I hope I broke his jaw." Shaun took out his cigarette case. "Of course, I could send the police a radio."
"By now it would be useless," Leidler decided. "Nothing could be done about it."