Chapter 9 Chapter nine

"Hmph," growled an angry voice. "Damn, you can't be smarter. I know I'm as bald as Julius Caesar, but I don't need any hair restorer! I want a shave. A shave. That's me Wanted. For Aesop's sake, can you stop talking about hair restorer and get on with your job?" "Excellent stuff, sir," said the barber. "It'll make a great beard, it will. By the way, my uncle—uncle dear, says so, sir." Max stared at the corner by the barbershop door. The scene before us is impressive.HM, who weighed two hundred pounds, was reclining in the barber's chair at a dangerous angle, as if he would tip over backwards if the boat shook.A huge white cloth covers his body and basically covers the chair as well.The only thing you can see is his head.He wore a pair of large glasses and stared at the ceiling with a look that was more malevolent than blank or pained.

The barber was a neatly dressed little man in a white jacket, who was sharpening his razor on a long leather belt in a motion that seemed to be . "By the way, if you don't mind, sir, he's as bald as you. In fact he's more bald than you! After all, you still have a little hair here," said the barber, pulling his ear And look behind his ear. "He said to me, 'Jack, where did you get this wonderful thing? It's incredible.' I said, 'I'm so glad you said that. Uncle William, does it really work?' 'It works?' he said , 'I'm telling you, Jack, no lie, twenty-four hours after the first application, my hair bloomed overnight like a study picture of natural activity. Black hair! I'm six Thirteen, never thought I'd be here today. 'Excuse my rudeness, how old are you now, sir.'

"Hmph, young man. I don't need any hair restorer! What I want is—" "As you please, sir. It's your business," said the barber.He put down the razor, stepped on the lever with his foot, and tilted the barber chair back even more, and the occupant of the chair felt a wave of terror. "Now, want me to get you a nice fake nose?" "I don't need a fake nose," says HM. "What's the matter, young man? Are you going to cut off my nose? Also, watch out for those hot towels, my skin is sensitive. I have—" "Oh, no, sir!" said the barber. "I won't hurt you. I've shaved fourteen customers in a hundred-mile wind once and didn't hurt a single—well—masquerade I mean. I don't know if they'll this time Have a masquerade, and there are so few passengers; but I always say, there's nothing like a masquerade. I can turn you into a robber, sir. Or you can draw out your chin and put on a little hat, and pretend to be Mussolini to go."

"For Mike's sake, watch out for those towels! Watch out for—" "Come this way, sir," said the barber, deftly removing HM's glasses and placing a smoking hot towel over his face.At this time, he saw Max. "Sir, please come in! Please take a seat, you are next." "Thanks, I don't need a haircut," Max said. "I want to speak to that gentleman." As he was speaking, the person on the chair convulsed as if electrocuted.A hand was stretched out from under the white smock, and he removed the towel covering his face. His face was as red as a boiled lobster, and he looked around with vicious eyes, staring at Max fiercely.

"Reporters!" he yelled. "Reporters again! I thought it would be quiet for a while, but the place is full of reporters again. Oh, my eyes, give me my glasses." "But, sir—" said the barber. "Give me the glasses," HM stresses, "I've changed my mind, I don't want to shave, I want my beard to grow here." The beard length he specified seemed impossible to achieve.He got up from his chair, tossed the money to the barber, and put on his glasses.His paunch was like a statue of a hero hanging from the prow, and it was adorned, in addition to a gold watch-chain, with a huge set of elk teeth, given to him in New York.

He walked awkwardly to the coat rack and put on his raincoat and a fedora.He pulled the brim of his hat up to his ears, looking incredible. "Ah, I—" Max protested. HM walks out of the barbershop with great dignity, Max following him.HM's attitude softened a bit after following until the shop selling souvenirs. "Now, say whatever you want," he muttered, sniffling. "If we had talked there just now, I'm afraid within ten minutes there will be whistles all over the ship." Max felt relieved. "It's an honor to see you again, HM," he said. "You don't look old, why are you on this ship? Why keep it a secret?"

"I'm old," HM said despondently, "and indigestion, see?" He took a big bottle full of little white balls from his raincoat pocket and sucked it up. "I may not live long, young man, but as long as I am alive, I will do my best. When I am dead," - he looked at Max, his eyes seemed to predict the worst outcome ——"Maybe they think there are more people older than me. Don't care about my actions, I have my own reasons." "How long have you been in America?" "Five days." Max wants to know more.Since the war broke out, he didn't know how HM's status had become, but he believed that no matter who replaced HM as the head of the military intelligence department, this old guy was still worth two people.Maybe he should be more careful not to hint at any clues.

Even though it was past dinnertime, for the first time on a voyage he didn't feel hungry. "What happened on board," he asked, "do you know?" HM muttered in a low voice, while he was listening, he was writing the draft in his heart.The sharp little eyes under the glasses gradually widened. "Oh, my eyes!" he cried. "Light and shadow! Shadow—" He raised his fist, as if being tortured and persecuted by the devil, "isn't it another impossible thing?" "I'm afraid so, and worse than you've ever seen before. I remember some of your cases where you only had to reveal how the murderer got out of a locked room (see 1938), or how he went through Snow without leaving footprints (see Murder at White Abbey, 1934). This time you need to explain fingerprints - real fingerprints - left by a murderer who doesn't exist. You can see that How did it work, HM, it would be a great help if you could get involved. Franck has a lot on his shoulders."

"Don't you think I didn't take any responsibility?" "Oh, you do, but you grew up on that sort of thing. Not Frank." He almost thought he had talked too much. HM looked at him with authority in his eyes, one of his eyes squinted shut and the other wide open.Max searched for compliments in his mind, intending to divert his anger. However, HM pouted with dignity and made a decision. "I need air," he said. "Lots of air. Go on deck and tell me the whole thing." They groped their way through the cabin in the darkness that was defined as twilight.If black could be graded—not just pitch black—the third night at sea might be a little brighter than the first two.Just enough to see the hand in front of him clearly, but that's all.

They were standing leeward of the B deck, with no canvas to cover them.As the deck undulates, twinkling stars appear to flicker.The temperature outside was near freezing, and the wind blew through Max's shirt, making his chest numb and his scalp and palms tingling; but he liked the feeling, it lifted his spirits. They could see the light below from the railing.It was pitch black everywhere, except for the faint white light of the surf beside the boat.The spray disappears beside the boat.This is the light of death, as if the candlelight in front of the corpse is floating on the sea, layer by layer, extending to both sides like untied ribbons.It feels like trying to exclude other sounds in the loud noise.This makes people think sluggishly and feel drowsy.

"Now, young man," said a voice from the darkness beside him. Max stared at the dark, oily water around him and told him the whole thing, not hiding anything.As it turns out, it does. When he was all done, HM's silence gave him a sense of foreboding.Max has lost his sense of time.They seemed to be talking in an icy space, neither sea, nor ground, nor air.The sound of the waves was always in my ears. "So it seems," HM muttered. "Not a pleasant thing, eh?" "Not really." "You're thinking," HM whispered in the dark, "that the murderer is the same guy who threw the knife at the lady's head (probably Mrs. Gia Bay) outside Dr. Archer's door on Friday night ?” "I thought so." "Also, is that guy again, with the gas mask on, whether by accident or on purpose, sticking his head into Ken Worthy's cabin?" Max hesitated. "That's not necessarily the case. Ken Worthy looks like a target of that sort of thing, maybe just a joke of the purser." "Ah, of course, it could have been a joke. The purser, you know, hit me like a... let's not talk about it. But you think that gas mask incident has something to do with the whole thing." "Maybe, maybe not. All these things I'm telling you make me sick. Why, I don't know." "I'll tell you why," he growled, as if he were the smartest person in the world. "Because your thoughts are childish. Your thoughts about this murder and every detail, are very childish. You are dealing with a grown man, young man. Worse, he seems to be a cautious, intelligent adult, Such a man is difficult to deal with. Tell me, have you done any investigative work? Have you tried to find out, for example, the whereabouts of all the passengers between nine forty-five and ten o'clock last night?" "You think the murderer was one of the passengers?" "I don't know, young man. He could be one of the passengers, or the ship's officer, or anyone, or even a cat in the galley. But we've got to start. Did you ask?" Or have they been tracked down?" "No." Max replied. "I can tell you the whereabouts of a few: Valerie Chafford in my cabin; Dr. Archer swimming in the pool below; Lathrop on the deck outside. I don't know the whereabouts of the others. understood." "And the Frenchman?" "Not sure. He was in his own cabin just after eleven o'clock. But that doesn't mean much." "And," said HM, "a French officer wouldn't wear it..." He paused, surrounded by the hissing of the sea. There's a hint of doubt in HM's words, as if he's banging his fist on the wooden railing. "Oh, would you believe it! Anything else? I was just thinking about Saturday morning." "You think the Frenchman has something to do with it?" "I think he knows something, young man," replied HM gravely. "I'd like to know how he explained it to the two people who asked for fingerprints last night in his cabin. I also think— —” "what?" HM didn't respond, and he was silent for so long that Max wondered if he had fallen asleep leaning against the railing.But even with his eyes wide open in the dark, Max could just see a blurry image, an ugly silhouette in big glasses and a raincoat—like a gargoyle adorning a cathedral. Suddenly he complains, "I can't bother with this!" (meaning he's got a problem, but won't admit it.) "Damn, don't I have enough on my mind? Isn't everything All the cumbersome cases will be piled on my head?" Max said calmly: "HM, this case is related to your department." "What's the meaning?" "Probably a spy." HM fell silent again, and Max could barely see the expression on his face.First of all, it was too dark in here to see him at all.Second, as a poker player at the Diogenes Club, HM has made such efforts completely futile during the day. The Edward Dick moved slowly, and the little shining stars above the deck swayed and moved accordingly.Even if your eyes are used to this environment, you can only see the wide, dark sea and white waves. "It's possible," HM admits.His voice sounded heavy and uncertain. "Young man, espionage is much more than a joke these days. It's as wide and deep as the ocean beneath your feet, and it's deeper than it was twenty-five years ago. It's not as unique as it is said to be, and it wasn't always Targets that are very important. The real spies are the ordinary, unimportant kind: shop assistants, clerks, young ladies, middle-aged women. They don't pay, they're even very clever; but they're fanatical idealists. You could send many of these guys without causing panic at GHQ, but every single one of those guys was a potential crisis. "Take this ship as an example. Suppose someone is in a room with lights and leaves the portholes open one night. You don't need to be very clever or get to the heart of the enemy to do this. However, consider When the lights can be seen five nautical miles away, the usual result is probably to panic most of us." "You think someone would do that? Take this opportunity and blow up this ship and take the rest of us to heaven?" HM sighed. "Oh, young man! If you're a fanatical idealist, you'll understand why the captain of the submarine didn't order fire until he saw that everyone was safely aboard the lifeboat." "Do you understand?" "Of course I understand." "Anyway, they've got a watch on the lifeboat deck. Can't you see the lights from there?" "It's possible," HM admitted grudgingly, "but it wouldn't hurt to try. Before I left New York, I got word that a woman on board was an enemy spy. I don't know if that information is accurate. I don't know Didn't get out. I would have liked the news to spread as far as possible; put it on a bulletin board if I could, like a warning to card cheats. But your brother won't allow it, and he's the ship Captain of the ship." HM raised his voice. "Also, I'm a man now, go find someone in Whitehall." Max stared at the phosphorescent mist forty feet below the sea. "A woman. You don't mean Estelle Guia Bey?" "I don't know who. Neither does the captain; he got the information, not me. Even if it was true, it doesn't sound like Estelle Gia Be. It's likely someone Stewardess, some fanatic who thinks she's contributing to ideals, who should be carrying hairbrushes behind people, not guns. Ugh!" "That's why you're on this ship?" "Hehe!" HM showed a terrifying smile. "No, young man. I'm for someone else. Whoever this potential spy is, she's not a smart lady. She's just a dumbass. But maybe it's a wonderful coincidence that a murder took place on our ship ’” His voice became sharp.His train of thought was interrupted.He worked on these thoughts like a cat fiddles with pom-poms under its paws. "You see, this murder was very cleverly planned. It confuses me. The murderer behind the case may be naive, but he carried it out very quickly and efficiently." He wriggled his fingers. "To find out the truth. I We do not want any more incidents to happen again." "how is this possible?" "Well, that's it. Suppose I throw you over the rail at this moment. Suppose I put my hand under your arm, keep you away from the guards, and give you another hard blow. Young man, when your feet are off the deck you are A dead man." Max shrugged nervously.In this darkness, it's impossible to tell friend from foe.Chances are you turn around and see the wrong face. "Don't try," he warned. "I'm heavy and I have a lot of lung capacity. I'm also a good swimmer." "I doubt this will help you," HM said quietly. "That's what I said above. The point is, they can't spot you. They can't notice you. Beware! It's as dark as hell down there! Not a gleam of light. You'll drown and suffocate , or be slowly frozen to death, even if these six hundred people heard your cries for help, they couldn't save you-because they dared not turn on the searchlights. Oh, my eyes. This darkness provides a convenient environment for the murderer." Max trembled. "You mean," he asked, "that when something happens to you, they won't turn on the lights even if they know where you are?" "They dare not, young man, it is an order. Your brother cannot disobey it. One cannot put all others at risk. This is war." For the first time, Max felt a kind of cruelty. On the dark sea, a ship was groping towards the direction of the muffled sound like a blind man. "I don't want to frighten you," HM said sullenly, "but that's what it is. An invisible line, and they're afraid to lower the lifeboat. Those should all be considered. And—" "Listen!" Max yelled. In an instant, their ears were filled with countless voices, and the boat began to be noisy.You can't appreciate how loud it is until the sea breeze reaches your ears. Max heard the commotion coming from the dark forward part of B-deck.He saw the flash and heard the revolver fire at the same time.Immediately there was a piercing scream, heavy panting accompanied by heavy footsteps, scurrying across the deck where the lifeboat was placed like a mouse.There were no more discernible sounds, save the mighty waves around them.

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