Chapter 17 Chapter Sixteen

The next morning I had an opportunity to lay hands on Colonel Race.The auction just ended and we were hanging out on the deck together. "How's the gypsy girl feeling this morning? Longing for land and wagons?" I shake my head. "The sea is so lovely now that I feel like I want to stay at sea forever." "So enthusiastic!" "Oh, isn't the sea this morning lovely?" We cling to the rope together.The sea is as calm as glass.The sea water looks like it has been oiled.A large block of color, blue, light green, emerald green, purple and deep orange, here and there, like a three-dimensional painting.The leaping fish occasionally stir up silver spray.The air is humid and warm, almost sticky, and it smells as sweet as a kiss.

"It was an interesting story you told us last night," I said, breaking the silence. "that one?" "The one about diamonds." "I believe women will always be interested in diamonds." "Of course we're interested. By the way, what happened to the other young man? You said there were two." "Young Lucas? Well, of course, they can't just try one man and let him get away with it." "I mean, what happened to him? Does anyone know?" Colonel Race looked at the sea.His face was expressionless, like a mask, but I knew he didn't like my question.However, he replied preparedly:

"He fought and fought valiantly. He is reported missing from his wounds - presumed dead." That's exactly what I want to know.I will not ask any further.But I doubt more than ever how much Colonel Race really knows?His role in this affair baffles me. I did another thing.It was to interview the night waiter.I gave him a little money and encouraged him to talk, and it worked quickly. "Is the lady missing, if she's not frightened? It seems like a harmless joke. A bet, that's all I know." Little by little I got him all out.When traveling from Cape Town to England, a traveler handed him a roll of negatives and told him to throw the negatives on the bunk in Room 71 at one o'clock in the morning on January 22nd on the return journey.A lady will live in room seventy-one.The whole thing has been described as a bet.I think the waiter must get a lot of money.The woman's name was not mentioned.Of course, since Mrs. Blair went to the purser as soon as she got on the ship, and then went straight to No. 71, the waiter certainly didn't realize that she was not that lady.The name of the passenger who arranged the delivery was Katong, and his appearance, according to the waiter's description, was exactly the same as that of the man who died at the subway station.

So the whole mystery was completely cleared up, and those diamonds were obviously the key to the whole affair. The last few days aboard the Gillmorden seem to pass quickly.As we drew closer to leaving Cape Town, I was forced to think carefully about my future plans.There are so many people I would like to pay attention to, Mr. Chichester, Sir Eustace and his secretary, and--by the way, Colonel Race!what should I do?Chichester was, of course, the first object of my attention.Just as I was removing Sir Eustace and Pagett, his secretary, from my suspicions, a chance conversation aroused new suspicions in me.

I have not forgotten Mr. Pagett's incomprehensible emotional reaction at the mention of Florence.We were all sitting on deck on our last night on board, and Sir Eustace asked his secretary a completely off-kilter question.I don't quite remember what the problem was, it seemed to have something to do with the delay of the Italian train, but I noticed at once that Mr. Pagett was looking uneasy, as I had noticed before.I moved quickly to the seat next to the secretary when Sir Eustace asked Mrs Blair to dance.I am determined to break the casserole and ask the end. "I've always longed to go to Italy," I said, "especially Florence. Did you have a good time there?"

"I did have a good time, Miss Beddingfield. I'm sorry, but Sir Eustace has some communication--" I gripped his sleeve tightly. "Oh, don't you run away!" I cried in the coquettish voice of an elderly widow. "I'm sure Sir Eustace would not like it if you left me alone with no one to talk to. You never wanted to talk about Florence. Oh, Mr. Pagett, I'm sure you have something to tell." Human secrets!" My hands were still on his arm, and I could feel his sudden startle. "Nothing, Miss Beddingfield, absolutely nothing," he said hastily. "I'd love to tell you about Florence, but there are really a few telegrams—"

"Oh, Mr. Pagett, what a pretense you are! I'm going to tell Sir Eustace—" I didn't say any more.He tensed up again, the man's nerves seemed to be in a state of shock. "What do you want to know?" There was no distress in his voice, which made me smile secretly. "Oh, everything! Views, olive trees—" I paused, feeling a little dazed. "I suppose you speak Italian?" I guessed. "Unfortunately, not a single word. But, of course, there are—er—guidebooks and such—." "Of course," I replied quickly, "and what's your favorite scene?"

"Oh, uh- Madonna- uh; Raphael, you know." "Dear old Florence," I murmured passionately, "the banks of the Arno are so beautiful. What a beautiful river. And Dome, don't you remember Dome?" "Of course, of course." "That's another beautiful river, isn't it?" I ventured. "Almost more beautiful than the Arno, isn't it?" "Not bad at all, should I say so." Encouraged by the success of this little trap, I continued.But there's little room for doubt.Pagett uttered every word completely under my control.He had never been to Florence in his life. (Annotation: Domo is not a river.)

But if not in Florence, where has he been?England?He was in England at the time of the "mill" incident?I decided to go straight to the point. "Oddly enough," I said, "I feel as if I've seen you there before. But I must be wrong—because you were in Florence then. Yet—" I watched him frankly.There was a look of being caught in his eyes.He licked his parched lips with his tongue. "There-er-there-" "I think I saw you there?" I finished for him. "At Marlowe. You know Marlowe? Why? Oh, of course, what a fool I am, Sir Eustace has a house there!"

However, my victim has already said "excuse me" incoherently, got up and ran away. That night, I excitedly broke into Suzanne's cabin. "Look, Suzanne," I said, after I had finished my story, "he was in England, in Marlowe, at the time of the murder. You're still so sure it was the 'man in brown' ?" "One thing I'm sure of," Suzanne said with a wink, to my surprise. "what is that?" "That's why the 'man in brown' is better looking than poor Mr. Pagett. No, Anne, don't be offended. I was only joking. Sit down. Jokes aside, I think you've made an important discovery. Up until now, we thought Pagett had an alibi, and now we know he didn't."

"That's right," I said, "we must keep an eye on him." "Like everyone else," she said ruefully. "Well, that's one of the things I'm going to talk to you about, and there's another one - the fiancé. Oh, don't turn your nose up so high. I know you're very independent and proud, but you have to listen to this Common sense. We're buddies - I'm not going to pay you a penny because I like you, or because you're an unaccompanied girl - I want excitement and I'm ready to pay for it. We Step in together, don't worry about the cost. First you come with me to the Mount Nelson Hotel, with my money, and then we'll plan things out." We argued about it for a long time, and finally I gave in, but I didn't like it.I want to be alone. "That's it," said Suzanne at last, standing up, stretching and yawning. "I have exhausted my tongue. Now, let us discuss our victims. Chichester is going to Durban. Sir Eustace is going first to the Mount Nelson Hotel in Cape Town and then up north to Rhodesia. He has a private carriage, and that night, after his fourth champagne, he offered me a ride in his private carriage. I daresay he really didn't mean it, but if I insisted, he Still can’t push it off.” "Well," I agreed, "you keep your eye on Sir Eustace and Pagett, and I on Chichester. But what about Colonel Race?" Suzanne looked at me strangely. "Annie, you don't suspect—" "I doubt, I doubt everyone. I want to pay attention to the most unlikely people." "Colonel Race is going to Rhodesia too," said Suzanne thoughtfully, "and if we can arrange for Sir Eustace to invite him too—" "You can arrange. You can arrange anything." "I like to be flattered." Suzanne laughed out loud. We broke up knowing that Suzanne would make the best of her talents. I was too excited to go to bed right away.This is my last night on the boat.Early tomorrow morning, we will arrive at Dabowan. I go on deck.The breeze was fresh and cool, and the boat swayed a bit in rough seas.The dark sea on deck, rushing toward it.I feel that I am alone in a wonderful world.I stood there in a strange sense of stillness, lost in sleep, lost in sleep, forgetting time. Suddenly I had a strange and familiar premonition of danger.I heard nothing, but instinctively turned back.A dark figure has moved towards me behind me, and as I turn, he leaps up.A pair of hands grabbed my neck, muffled any sound I might make.I struggled desperately, but there was no hope.I was pinched out of breath, but I still bit, grabbed, and twisted in the most primitive way of a woman.The man seemed incompetent in trying to keep me from making a sound.If he succeeds in attacking me without me noticing, he can just lift me up suddenly and throw me overboard, and the rest of the sharks will take care of themselves. No matter how hard I struggled, I felt myself getting weaker and weaker, and my killer felt it too.He tried his best.At this moment, another dark figure came running with quick and soundless steps to join the fight.With one blow, he knocked my enemy down on the deck.After I was freed, I fell on the cable, trembling all over, and sick to my stomach. My savior quickly turned to me. "You are hurt!" There was ferocity in his voice—the ferocity of a man who dared to harm me.I recognized him before he even made a sound.That's my man—the man with the scar. The moment his attention shifted to me, however, was enough for the fallen foe.He got up as fast as a flame and ran down the deck.Cursing, Raben sprang to his feet and gave chase. I always hated being on the sidelines.I join the chase - a poor third party.We chased to the starboard side of the boat.By the door of the restaurant, the man was lying there like a pile of mud.Rayburn was bending over him. "Did you hit him again?" I gasped. "No need," he replied grimly. "I found him collapsed by the door, maybe he couldn't open it and pretended to fall. We'll find out soon, and we'll find out who he is." My heart raced closer, and I knew immediately that my killer was bigger than Chichester.Besides, Chichester was a weak fellow, he used knives instead of fists in fights, and he was useless with his bare hands. Rayburn struck a match.We suddenly cried out at the same time.The man turned out to be Pagett. Rayburn seemed stunned by the discovery. "Pagett," he murmured. "My God, Pagett." I feel a little bit superior. "You seem surprised." "Yes," he said heavily. "I never suspected—" He circled suddenly around me. "And you? Are you not surprised? I suppose you recognized him when he attacked you?" "No, I didn't recognize it. But I'm not too surprised." He eyed me suspiciously. "Where did you get involved? I doubt it. And how much do you really know?" I smile. "Knows a lot, er—Mr. Lucas!" He grabbed my arm, and I flinched from his involuntary grip. "Where did you know that name?" he asked hoarsely. "Isn't that your name?" I asked sweetly. "Or do you prefer to be called 'the man in the brown suit'?" This hit him right to the bone.He let go of me and took a step or two back. "Are you a girl or a witch?" he gasped. "I'm your friend," I said, taking a step closer to him. "I offered you help once—I'll offer it again. Will you take it?" His savage answer made me back away. "No, I have nothing to do with you or any woman, fuck you." As before, my anger started to rise. "Perhaps," I said, "you don't know how far you've come into my sphere, if I just say to the captain—" "Go ahead," he said sarcastically.After speaking, he quickly took a step towards me: "Since you mentioned it, my dear girl, do you know that you are under my influence now? I can pinch your neck like this." The words fell , and the action ensues.I feel his hands pinching my throat and pressing down hard at the same time - although only a little. "Like this—squeeze your orifices! Then—like our unconscious friend, but more successfully—throw your body to the sharks. How about it?" I didn't say anything.I just laughed.However, I know that the crisis is real.At that moment, he hated me.But I know I like danger, I like the feel of his hands on my throat, and I know I wouldn't trade this moment for any other moment in my life. He let me go with a short laugh. "What's your name?" he asked suddenly. "Anne Beddingfeld." "Is there nothing to frighten you, Anne Beddingfeld?" "Oh, yes," I said, with unconscious coolness, "wasps, gossips, very young men, cockroaches, senior store assistants, etc." He gave the same short laugh as before, and kicked the unconscious Pagett lightly. "What do we do with this waste? Throw it into the sea?" he asked nonchalantly. "If you like," I replied equally calmly. "I envy your bloodthirsty, calm instincts, Miss Beddingfield. But let's let him slowly come to life here, he's not seriously hurt." "You're afraid of being murdered again, I know," I said sweetly. "Murder again?" He looked puzzled. "The woman at Marlowe," I reminded him, watching the effect of my words. An ugly, pensive look came over his face, he seemed to have forgotten my existence. "I may have killed her," he said, "sometimes I believe I want to kill her..." An inexplicable feeling of disgust towards the dead woman spontaneously arose in my heart.If she had stood before me then, I might have killed her... because he must have loved her—he must—he must—feel like that! I controlled my emotions and said in a normal voice: "It seems like we've said everything we need to say - except goodnight." "Good night and good-bye, Miss Beddingfield." "See you tomorrow, Lucas," I said. Cringing at the name again, he moved closer. "Why did you say, why did you say goodbye?" "Because I feel we'll meet again." "I hope we never meet again!" He said it emphatically, but instead of offending me, I chuckled at a secret satisfaction that I wasn't stupid. "I still," I said emphatically, "think we'll meet again." "why?" I shook my head, unable to explain the feeling that made me say those words. "I never hoped to see you again!" he said suddenly and fiercely. It's really rude to say such a thing, but I just smiled slightly and walked into the shadows. I heard him follow me, and then he stopped, and a word came over, and I think he said, "Witch!"