Part 17 (1/2)

”Oh, yes--surely yes.” Iff's tone was almost apologetic. He thrust a hand between his s.h.i.+rt and waistcoat, fumbled a moment as if unb.u.t.toning a pocket, and brought forth a worn leather wallet from which, with great and exasperating deliberation, he produced a folded paper. This he handed the captain--his manner, if possible, more than ever self-effacing and meek.

The paper (it was parchment) crackled crisply in the captain's fingers.

He spread it out and held it to the light in such a position that Staff could see it over his shoulder. He was unable to read its many closely inscribed lines, but the heading ”Treasury Department, Was.h.i.+ngton, D. C.”

was boldly conspicuous, as well as an imposing official seal and the heavily scrawled signature of the Secretary of the Treasury.

Beneath the blue cloth, the captain's shoulders moved impatiently. Staff heard him say something indistinguishable, but of an intonation calculated to express his emotion.

Iff giggled nervously: ”Oh, captain! the ladies--”

Holding himself very stiff and erect, Captain Cobb refolded the doc.u.ment and ceremoniously handed it back to the little man.

”I beg your pardon,” he said in a low voice.

”Don't mention it,” begged Iff. He replaced the paper in his wallet, the wallet in his pocket. ”I'm sure it's quite an excusable mistake on your part, captain dear.... As for you, Mr. Manvers, you needn't apologise to me,” he added maliciously: ”just make your apologies to Captain Cobb.”

VII

STOLE AWAY!

And then (it seemed most astonis.h.i.+ng!) nothing happened. The net outcome of all this fuss and fl.u.s.ter was precisely _nil_. With the collapse of the flimsy structure of prejudice and suspicion in which Manvers had sought to trap Iff, the interest of all concerned seemed to simmer off into apathy. n.o.body did anything helpful, offered any useful suggestion or brought to light anything illuminating. Staff couldn't understand it, for the life of him....

There was, to be sure, a deal more talk in the captain's cabin--talk in which the purser took little or no part. As a matter of fact, Manvers kept far in the background and betrayed every indication of a desire to crawl under the table and be a good dog. The captain had his say, however, and in the end (since he was rather emphatic about it) his way.

He earnestly desired that the matter should be kept quiet; it would do no good, he argued, to noise it about amongst the pa.s.sengers; the news would only excite them and possibly (in some obscure and undesignated fas.h.i.+on) impede official investigation. He would, of course, spare no pains to fathom the mystery; drastic measures would be taken to secure the detection of the culprit and the rest.i.tution of the necklace to its rightful owner. The s.h.i.+p would be minutely, if quietly, searched; not a member of the crew, from captain to stoker, would be spared, nor any pa.s.senger against whom there might develop the least cause for suspicion. Detectives would meet the s.h.i.+p at New York and co-operate with the customs officials in a most minute investigation of the pa.s.sengers' effects. Everything possible would be done--trust the captain! In the meantime, he requested all present to regard the case as confidential.

Iff concurred, somewhat gravely, somewhat diffidently. He was disposed to make no secret of the fact that his presence on board was directly due to the missing necklace. He had been set to watch Miss Landis, to see that she didn't smuggle the thing into the United States. He hoped she wouldn't take offense of this: such was his business; he had received his orders and had no choice but to obey them. (And, so far as was discernible, Miss Landis did not resent his espionage; but she seemed interested and, Staff fancied, considerably diverted.) Mr. Iff could promise Miss Landis that he would leave no stone unturned in his private inquiry; and his work, likewise, would be considerably facilitated if the affair were kept quiet. He ventured to second the captain's motion.

Miss Landis offered no objection; Staff and Manvers volunteered to maintain discretion, Jane was sworn to it. Motion seconded and carried: the meeting adjourned _sine die_; the several parties thereto separated and went to their respective quarters.

Staff accompanied Alison as far as her stateroom, but didn't tarry long over his second good-nights. The young woman seemed excusably tired and nervous and anxious to be alone--in no mood to discuss this overwhelming event. So Staff spared her.

In his own stateroom he found Mr. Iff half-undressed, sitting on the transom and chuckling noiselessly, apparently in such a transport of amus.e.m.e.nt that he didn't care whether he ever got to bed or not. Upon the entrance of his roommate, however, he dried his eyes and made an effort to contain himself.

”You seem to think this business funny,” suggested Staff, not at all approvingly.

”I do,” laughed the little man--”I do, indeed. It's a grand young joke--clutch it from me, my friend.”

”In what respect, particularly, do you find it so vastly entertaining?”

”Oh ... isn't that a.s.s Manvers enough?”

Further than this, Mr. Iff declined to be interviewed. He clambered briskly into his berth and chuckled himself to sleep. Staff considered his behaviour highly annoying.

But it was on the following day--the last of the voyage--that he found reason to consider the affair astonis.h.i.+ng because of the lack of interest displayed by those personally involved. He made no doubt but that the captain was keeping his word to the extent of conducting a secret investigation, though no signs of any such proceeding appeared on the surface of the s.h.i.+p's life. But Alison he could not understand; she seemed to have cast care to the winds. She appeared at breakfast in the gayest of spirits, spent the entire morning and most of the afternoon on deck, the centre of an animated group shepherded by the indefatigable Mrs. Ilkington, dressed herself radiantly for the grand final dinner, flirted with the a.s.siduously attentive Arkroyd until she had reduced Staff to the last stages of corroded jealousy, and in general (as Staff found a chance to tell her) seemed to be having the time of her life.

”And why not?” she countered. ”Spilt milk!”