Part 10 (2/2)
”Sorry if I'm keeping you awake,” said Staff politely.
”Oh, I don't mean to seem to beef about it, only ... I was wondering if by any chance you'd heard the news?”
”What news?”
”About me.”
”About you!” Staff paused with his fingers on the light-switch.
”About my cute little self. May I look now?” Iff poked his head over the edge of the upper berth and beamed down upon Staff like a benevolent, blond magpie. ”Haven't you heard the rumour that I'm a desperate character?”
”Just what do you mean?” demanded Staff, eyeing the other intently.
”Oh, simply that I overheard the purser discussing me with his a.s.sistant. He claims to recognise in me a bold bad man named Ismay, whose specialty is pulling off jobs that would make Sherlock Holmes ask to be retired on a pension.”
”Well?”
”Well what?”
”Are you Ismay?”
A broad, mocking grin irradiated the little man's pinched features.
”Don't ask me,” he begged: ”I might tell you.”
Staff frowned and waited a minute, then, receiving no further response to his enquiry, grunted ”Good night,” turned off the light and got into his berth.
A moment later the question came out of the darkness overhead: ”I say--what do _you_ think?”
”Are you Iff or Ismay--you mean?”
”Aye, lad, aye!”
”I don't know. It's for you to say.”
”But if you thought I was Ismay you'd s.h.i.+ft quarters, wouldn't you?”
”Why?”
”Because I might pinch something of yours.”
”In the first place,” said Staff, yawning, ”I can't s.h.i.+ft without going into the second cabin--and you know it: the boat's full up. Secondly, I've nothing you could steal save ideas, and you haven't got the right sort of brains to turn them to any account.”
”That ought to hold me for some time,” Iff admitted fairly. ”But I'm concerned about your sensitive young reputation. Suppose I were to turn a big trick this trip?”
”As for instance--?”
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