Part 25 (2/2)
”That's the way it struck me, too.... Scene Two: c.o.c.kspur Street, London. I'm not sure what boat Miss Landis means to take; I've got a notion it's the Autocratic, but I'm stalling till I know. You drift into the office, I recognise you and recall that you're pretty thick with Miss Landis. Nothing more natural than that you and she should go home by the same steamer. Similarly--Ismay.... Oh, yes, I understand it was pure coincidence; but I took a chance and filled my hand. After we'd booked and you'd strutted off, I lingered long enough to see Miss Landis drive up in a taxi with a whaling big bandbox on top of the cab. She booked right under my nose; I made a note of the bandbox....
”Then you came aboard with the identical bandbox and your funny story about how you happened to have it. I smelt a rat: Miss Landis hadn't sent you that bandbox anonymously for no purpose. Then one afternoon--long toward six o'clock--I see Miss Landis's maid come out on deck and jerk a little package overboard--package just about big enough to hold a razor. That night I'm dragged up on the carpet before the captain; I hear a pretty fairy tale about the collar disappearing while Jane was taking the bandbox back to your steward. The handbag is on the table, in plain sight; it isn't locked--a blind man can see that; and the slit in its side has been made by a razor. I add up the bandbox and the razor and multiply the sum by the fact that the average woman will smuggle as quick as the average man will take a drink; and I'm Jeremiah Wise, Esquire.”
”That's the best yet,” Staff applauded. ”But--see here--why didn't you tell what you knew, if you knew so much, when you were accused?”
Iff grimaced sourly. ”Get ready to laugh. This is one you won't fall for--not in a thousand years.”
”Shoot,” said Staff.
”I like you,” said Iff simply. ”You're foolish in the head sometimes, but in the main you mean well.”
”That's nice of you--but what has it to do with my question?”
”Everything. You're sweet on the girl, and I don't wish to put a crimp in your young romance by showing her up in her true colours.
Furthermore, you may be hep to her little scheme; I don't believe it, but I know that, if you are, you won't let me suffer for it. And finally, in the senility of my dotage I conned myself into believing I could bluff it out; at the worst, I could prove my innocence easily enough. But what I didn't take into consideration was that I was laying myself open to arrest for impersonating an agent of the Government. When I woke up to that fact, the only thing I could see to do was to duck in out of the blizzard.”
Staff said sententiously: ”_Hmmm._...”
”Pretty thin--what?”
”In spots,” Staff agreed. ”Still, I've got to admit you've managed to cover the canvas, even if your supply of paint was a bit stingy. One thing still bothers me: how did you find out I knew about the smuggling game?”
Iff nodded toward the bedroom. ”I happened in--casually, as the saying runs--just as Miss Landis was telling on herself.”
Staff frowned.
”How,” he pursued presently, ”can I feel sure you're not Ismay, and, having guessed as accurately as you did, that you didn't get at that bandbox aboard the s.h.i.+p and take the necklace?”
”If I were, and had, would I be here?”
”But I can't understand why you are here!”
”It's simple enough; I've any number of reasons for inviting myself to be your guest. For one, I'm wet and cold and look like a drowned rat; I can't offer myself to a hotel looking like this--can I? Then I knew your address--you'll remember telling me; and there's an adage that runs 'Any port in a storm.' You're going to be good enough to get my money changed--I've nothing but English paper--and buy me a ready-made outfit in the morning. Moreover, I'm after Ismay, and Ismay's after the necklace; wherever it is, he will be, soon or late. Naturally I presumed you still had it--and so did he until within the hour.”
”You mean you think it was Ismay who broke into these rooms tonight?”
”You saw him, didn't you? Man about my size, wasn't he? Evening clothes?
That's his regulation uniform after dark. Beard and gla.s.ses--what?”
”I believe you're right!” Staff rose excitedly. ”I didn't notice the gla.s.ses, but otherwise you've described him!”
”What did I tell you?” Iff helped himself to a cigarette. ”By now the dirty dog's probably raising heaven and h.e.l.l to find out where Miss Searle has hidden herself.”
Staff began to pace nervously to and fro. ”I wish,” he cried, ”I knew where to find her!”
”Please,” Iff begged earnestly, ”don't let your sense of the obligations of a host interfere with your amus.e.m.e.nts; but if you'll stop that Marathon long enough to find me a blanket, I'll shed these rags and, by your good leave, curl up cunningly on yon divan.”
Staff paused, stared at the little man's bland and guileless face, and shook his head helplessly, laughing.
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