Chapter 13 Chapter Twelve

(Excerpt from the Diary of Sir Eustace Peterler) There is something about life on board that is worth mentioning.very peaceful.Luckily my gray hair saves me from having to run up and down the deck like everyone else without dignity begging for apples, eggs and tomatoes, and worse, "Brother Bill" etc. Kind of uncomfortable game.I've never been able to figure out what pleasure I can get out of the painful experience of these kinds of recreational sports.But there are too many idiots in the world. While people praise God for the existence of idiots, they stay away from them at the same time.

I have the good fortune to be a superior navigator.Not the poor fellow, Pagett.As soon as our ship left Sauron, his face turned green.I think my other so-called secretary is also suffering from seasickness.In any case, he has not been seen.But perhaps it wasn't seasickness, but a clever trick.Most thankfully, I haven't been annoyed by him yet. Generally speaking, the people on board were like a lot of toads, except for two elegant bridge partners and one elegant woman, Lady Clarence Blair.Of course, I met her in town.She is one of the few women I know who has a sense of humor.I love talking to her, and I'd love it even more if it wasn't for a long-legged, taciturn guy like (Chung's relative) who keeps following her ass.I can't imagine that Colonel Race really pleases her?His appearance is good, but he is as dull as the water in the gutter.He was one of those strong, silent men that novelists and teenage girls often go crazy for.

After we left Madeira, Pagett struggled up to the deck and chattered hollowly about work.Who's crazy to work on a ship?Yes, I promised the publisher to hand over my "memoir" by early summer, but so what?Who really reads "Memoirs"?Country old woman.Besides, what is the value of my memoirs?I have fought many so-called celebrities in my life.With Pagett's assistance, I invented some dull anecdotes about them.And the truth of the matter is that Pagett was too devoted to his work to let me invent anecdotes about people I might have met but hadn't. I tried to deal with him softly.

"You still look like a shipwrecked man, my dear Secretary," I said calmly, "and what you need is a deck-chair in the sun. No—say no more, work can wait. " Next thing I knew, he was worrying about finding another extra room. "There's no place to work in your room, Sir Eustace. It's full of trunks." His tone may make you think that the suitcases are like some black beetles and should not be placed in the cabin. I explained to him that he probably didn't understand, but it's common to have a change of clothes when traveling.He smiled faintly, as he always does at my attempts at humor, and went back to his task.

"And we can barely work in my little hole." I know what Pagett means by "the little hole" - he usually has the best cabins on board. "I'm sorry the captain didn't take special care of you this time," I said sarcastically. "Maybe you want to drop some of your extra luggage into my room?" It's dangerous to use sarcasm on someone like Pagett, who immediately brightens up. "Well, if I could get rid of the typewriter and the pencil case—" The stationery box weighed several tons and caused a lot of trouble for the porters, and Pagett's purpose in life was to trick me into accepting this rubbish.It was a perpetual battle between us, and he seemed to treat it as my special personal property.As far as I'm concerned, the only usefulness of the secretary is to take care of these things.

"We'll find another room," I said hastily. Things seemed simple enough, but Pagett was a man who liked to create mysteries.He came to me the next day with the face of a renaissance conspirator. "You know you want me to use room seventeen as an office?" "Well, how is it? Is the stationery box stuck at the door and can't get in?" "The doorways are the same size in every stateroom," replied Pagett gravely, "but I tell you, Sir Eustace, there is a curious thing about that stateroom." Memories of the "top bunk" book I read come to mind.

"If you mean there's a ghost in it," I said, "and we don't sleep there, I don't see that it matters. The ghost doesn't do anything to the typewriter." It wasn't the ghost, Pagett said, and besides, he didn't get room seventeen either.He told me a long and out-of-context account of what had happened.Apparently, there was another Mr. Chichester, and a girl named Beddingfield fought him for the room, and nearly got into a fight.Needless to say, the girl won, and Pagett was clearly irritated by the incident. "Both cabins thirteen and twenty-eight are better cabins," he repeated, "but they don't even bother to look."

"Oh," I said, stopping my yawn, "don't talk about it any more, my dear Pagett." He glanced complainingly. "It was you who told me I wanted Room 17." Pagett was a bit like an ant in a hot pot. "My good secretary," I tried, "I mentioned cabin 17 because I happened to see it vacant. But I don't want you to fight desperately for that cabin—No. 13 or Room 28 is just as good for us." He looked hurt. "Not only that, but," he insisted, "Miss Beddingfield has got the cabin, but I saw Chichester coming out of it this morning."

I glared at him sharply. "If you were going to speak ill of Chichester—a clergyman, though a pernicious man—and that charming little girl, Anne Beddingfield, behind my back, I wouldn't believe you a word. Yes." I said coldly, "Anne Beddingfeld is a very nice girl--has a special pair of legs. I dare say she has the most beautiful legs in the whole boat." Pagett didn't like what I said about Anne Beddingfeld's legs.He's one of those people who never pays attention to his legs - and if he did, he'd rather die than talk about it.He found my appreciation of such things frivolous.I liked to upset Pagett, so I went on maliciously:

"Now that you've made her acquaintance, you can ask her to dine with us to-morrow evening. It's a masquerade ball. And, by the way, you'd better go and help me choose a masquerade." "You're not going to the masquerade, are you?" said Pagett in a tone of horror. I can understand how incompatible this is with my dignity in his conception.I had no intention of putting on a fancy dress, but Pagett's great embarrassment prevented me from telling the truth. "What do you mean?" I said, "Of course I will, and so will you." Pagett shrugged.

"So, hurry up and pick one out for me," I concluded. "I don't think there's a size for you," Pagett said softly, eyeing my size. Although unintentional, Pagett was sometimes easily offended. "Also, book a table for six in the dining room," I said, "we're going to have the captain, the girl with beautiful legs, Mrs Blair—" "You can't have Mrs. Blair if you don't invite Colonel Race," interposed Pagett. "He's invited her to dinner, I know." Pagett always knew it all.I was stumped by him. "Who is Reese?" I asked angrily. As I just said, Pagett always knew everything—or thought he knew it all.He appeared mysterious again. "They say he's a secret service officer, Sir Eustace. I think he's more of a gunslinger. But of course I'm not sure." "Isn't that the same as government authorities?" I said aloud. "There was a man on board whose job it was to carry secret documents, and they gave it to an outsider who just wanted to live a quiet life." Pagett looked even more mysterious.He came forward and said in a low voice: "If you ask me, the whole thing is very strange, Sir Eustace. Think of my illness before we set off." "My dear secretary," I interrupted rudely, "that's a hyperbilia, the hyperbilia you often suffer from." Pagett flinched a little. "That wasn't your usual hyperbilia. This time—" "For God's sake, don't tell me the details of your medical condition, Pagett. I don't want to hear it." "Very well, Sir Eustace. But I believe I have been subtly poisoned!" "Ah!" I said, "you told Rayburn." He didn't deny it. "At any rate, Sir Eustace, he thinks so—and he ought to know." "By the way, where is that guy?" I asked, "I haven't seen him since I got on the boat." "He said he was sick and in the cabin, Sir Eustace," said Pagett, dropping his voice again. "But I'm sure it's a disguise so he can keep an eye out." "Notice?" "Watch your safety, Sir Eustace. In case anyone attacks you." "You're such a crowd pleaser, Pagett," I said, "I think you have too much imagination. If I were you, I'd go to the ball dressed as a dead man or an executioner, that suits your misery." type of beauty." This made him temporarily shut up.I go on deck.The Beddingfield girl was talking warmly to the priest of Chichester.Women always like to be close to priests. Stooping is a distaste for a man of my stature, but I politely pick up a piece of paper flapping at the priest's feet. I didn't get his acknowledgment.In fact, I couldn't stop myself from looking at what was written on the note.Only one sentence. "Don't do it alone, otherwise it will be even more disadvantageous." That's all the good stuff about priests.Who is this fellow Chichester?I suspect.He looks as docile as milk.But appearances are deceptive, and I ought to ask Pagett about him.Pagett was always omniscient. I took one of the deck chairs next to Mrs. Blair's, and interrupted her intimate conversation with Race by saying that the clergy don't know what it is these days. Then I asked her to dine with me at the masquerade tonight.Reese somehow included himself in my invitation. After lunch, the girl named Beddingfield came over to join us for coffee.I was right about her legs.Those were the most beautiful legs in the boat.Of course I will invite her to dinner too. I should like to know what misfortune happened to Pagett in Florence.He changed at the mention of Italy.If I didn't know that he is a respectable person, I would have suspected that he had engaged in some dishonorable affair... Now I'm starting to wonder!Even the most respected people--how much it would please me if that were the case. Pagett—The Sin of Man!Wonderful!