Chapter 19 Chapter Eighteen

(reply to Annie's narrative) I don't think I'll ever forget my first impression of "Table Mountain" in my lifetime.I woke up early in the morning and went on deck.I went all the way up to the top deck, which I thought was exasperating, but I decided to do something amazing for my solitude.Our ship is sailing into Big Wave Bay.Wool-like white clouds are floating on the "Table Mountain", gathered between the hillsides, down to the seaside, is a sleeping city, shrouded in the morning light. This made me gasp, and at the same time, I felt a strange thirsty pain in my heart, as when a person sees something particularly beautiful, he will gnaw at him.I am not very good at expressing it, but I know very well, if only for a moment, that I have found what I have been looking for since I left Little Hampshire.Something new, something undreamt of, something that could soothe the pain of my romance craving.

The "Gilmorden" moved quietly toward it, or so it seemed to me.It was still very much like a dream, but, like all dreamers, it was a dream I could not help but dissolve into.We poor human beings are so desperate not to miss anything. "This is South Africa," I kept saying to myself. "South Africa, South Africa. You're looking at the world, that's the world, and you're looking at it. Think, Anne Beddingfeld, you dumbass, you're looking at the world." I thought I was the only one with the uppermost deck, but now I noticed someone else was clinging to the cables, as fascinated as I was by the soon-to-reach city.Even before he turned around, I knew who he was.In the morning light, the scene last night seemed unreal like a drama.What must he think of me?When I think of what I said last night, I can't help feeling hot all over my body.I didn't mean it - or did I mean it when I said it?

I turned my head away and stared at "Table Mountain".If Rayburn came up here by himself, at least I didn't have to bother him and let him know that I was here too. To my great surprise, however, I heard light footsteps on the deck behind me, and then his voice, pleasant and normal: "Miss Beddingfield." "Ok?" I turn around. "I want to apologize to you. I behaved very rudely last night." "That—that was a special night," I said quickly. It's not very clear, but it's the only sentence I can come up with. "Do you forgive me?"

I held out my hand silently, and he took it. "I have other things to say," he said in a deep tone, "Miss Beddingfield, maybe you don't know, but you are involved in a very dangerous matter." "I figured it out," I said. "No, you don't know, you can't know. I want to warn you, don't meddle anymore. That can't have anything to do with you. Don't let your curiosity get you into other people's affairs. No, please don't be angry. ...I'm not talking about myself. You don't know what's going to happen to you - these people are restless. They're brutal. You're in danger - think about last night. They guess you know Your only chance is to convince them that they guessed wrong. But be very careful and be aware of the dangers. Also, if you fall into their hands, don't try, be smart. —tell the truth; this is your only chance of escape."

"You're making my hair stand on end, Mr. Raeburn," I said, and in fact it was a little. "Why did you bother to tell me?" He did not answer for a long time.Then said in a low voice: "It's probably the last thing I can do for you. I'll be all right as soon as I land—but I may not." "What?" I called out. "You know, I'm afraid you're not the only one on board who knows I'm 'The Man in Brown'." "If you think I told—" I said impatiently. He smiled back. "I don't doubt you, Miss Beddingfield. I'd be lying if I said I doubted you. No, I never doubted you, but there was a man on board whom he knew all along. If he ever said--then I'm doomed. Still, I take the risk that he won't."

"why?" "Because he's a man who likes to do it alone. If the police catch me, I'll be of no use to him. I might make it ashore safely and be free! Well, we'll know in an hour. " He smiled embarrassingly, but I saw his expression was firm.He is a good gambler if he bets with fortune.He can laugh it off when he loses. "Anyway," he said softly, "I don't think we'll ever meet again." "Yeah," I said slowly, "I don't think so either." "Then—goodbye." "goodbye." He held my hand tightly, and at that moment, his strange bright eyes seemed to burn in mine, and then he turned away suddenly, and I heard his footsteps, echoing on the deck .

I feel like I'll hear them forever.Footsteps—out of my circle of life.I can honestly admit that the next two hours were difficult for me.It wasn't until I was standing on the pier, subject to some ridiculously formal inspections by the authorities, that I could relax again.No one was arrested, I knew it was a lovely day, and I was hungry.I join Suzanne.For whatever reason, I spent the night with her in a hotel that day.That ship did not continue on to Port Elizabeth and Durban until the next morning.We got into a taxi and drove to the Mount Nelson Hotel. Everything is lovely.Sunshine, air, flowers!I rejoice secretly when I think of Little Hampshire in January, the knee-high mud, and the inevitable rain.Suzanne wasn't as excited as I was, of course because she traveled a lot.On top of that, she's not the type to get high before breakfast.She taunted me when I saw a huge blue morning glory and couldn't help screaming.

By the way, I must make it clear that this will not be a South African story.I guarantee there will be no facsimiles of local color—you know that kind of thing—every page is more than half full in big bold letters.I envy others who can do this when they write novels, but I can't.Of course, if you go to the islands in the South China Sea, you immediately think of bechedemer. I don't know what it is, I never knew, and I probably never will. I guessed once or twice, but I was wrong.In South Africa, I know you're going to start talking about Stoep right away - I know what it is - it's something that sits around the house.In various parts of the world, they are called "corridors", "outer corridors" or "dark walls".Then there is "longevity fruit", I have often seen the word "longevity fruit".I found out what it was right away, because there was one for my breakfast right in front of me.At first I thought it was a rotten watermelon.The Dutch waitress explained it to me and convinced me to try it with some lemon juice and sugar, and I was delighted to see the marigold fruit, which I've always associated with "Hula Hula", "Hula Hula" I think- — though I could be wrong — a kind of hula skirt that Hawaiian girls wear when they dance.No, I was wrong - it was "Lava Lava".

In any case, these are the joys of leaving England.I can't help but think that if we could have a bacon breakfast in England and put on a "sleigh" to go out, it would make the cold island life vigorous and lively. After breakfast, Suzanne softened a little.They gave me a room next to hers, looking out, just in time to see the beautiful scenery of Dabo Bay.I was looking out at the scenery while Suzanne was looking for a special face cream.She didn't hear me until she found it and started applying it eagerly. "Did you see Sir Eustace?" I asked, "he strode out of the restaurant as we entered, and he ordered some bad fish or something, and was complaining to the head waiter, while he Throw a peach on the ground so hard that the foreman can see how hard it is--but it's not as hard as he thought, and the peach crumbles on the ground."

Suzanne smiled and said: "Sir Eustace is less fond of early rises than I am. But, Anne, did you see Mr. Pagett? I met him in the aisle, and his eyes were darkened. What the hell has he done?" "Nothing, just trying to push me overboard," I replied innocently.That is my debt of favor. Suzanne, her face half covered with cream, paused to press me for details, and I told her what had happened. "It's getting more and more mysterious," she exclaimed, "and I think it's easier for me to keep an eye on Sir Eustace, and you can have a good time teasing the priest of Chichester, but I dare not think so now. I hope Pagett doesn't push me off the train some dark night."

"I think you're overly suspicious, Suzanne. But if the worst should happen, I'll telegraph Clarence." "That reminds me—give me a telegram. Now let me think about it. What should I say? 'Involved in the most exciting mystery, please send me a thousand pounds at once, Suzanne.'" I took the telegram paper from her and pointed out that she could drop some of the definite articles and, if she didn't mind, the word "please."However, Suzanne didn't seem to care about money at all. Instead of accepting my suggestion of saving money, she added a few words: "I had a good time." Suzanne made an appointment to have lunch with some of her friends, and they picked her up at the hotel around eleven o'clock.I was left to make arrangements.I went downstairs across the hotel square, over the tram tracks, through a shady alleyway and into the street.I strolled, admiring the scenery, enjoying the sunshine and the pleasure of watching the fruit and flower vendors.I found a place that sells really good ice cream soda.In the end, I bought a basket of Liubenshi peaches and headed back to the hotel. I was surprised and delighted to find a note waiting for me.It was a note from the curator of the museum.He saw my name on the passenger list on the Gillmorden.On the form I was identified as the daughter of Professor Beddingfield.He had heard of my father and adored my father.He said that his wife would be very happy if I would go to his villa in Muzenburg to have tea with them in the afternoon.He told me how to get there. It was a relief to think that poor Papa was still remembered and respected.Before I left Cape Town, I had to be privately escorted around the museum, which is a courtesy for most people - but for someone who has been exposed to such things day and night Not so.No matter how beautiful things are, they will become nothing if they are seen too much. I put on my best hat (one Suzanne didn't want) and white linen with the least amount of crepe, and set off after lunch.I took the express train to Muzenburg and arrived there in about half an hour.It was a lovely ride, the train meandering at the foot of "Table Mountain", some of the flowers and plants along the way were lovely.My geography is bad, I had no idea that Cape Town is on a peninsula, so I was surprised when I got off the train and found myself facing the sea again.Some people bathe leisurely in the sea water.People stand on surfboards and go with the current.It was still early for tea time, I headed to the bathroom, and when they asked me if I wanted to surfboard, I said yes.Surfing seemed so easy, it wasn't, and I don't dare think so anymore.I was so annoyed that I threw the surfboard off.However, I still decided to start from scratch, and I will not admit defeat like this.After a few false starts, I was able to run and happily go with the flow.That's what surfing is all about, you either can't get out there and you're cursing, or you're just having fun. It took me a while to find Maggie's Villa, which is located on top of a hill away from other villas and villages.I rang the doorbell, and a little native boy answered the door. "Is Madame Laffiny there?" I asked. He invited me in, led me down a corridor, and opened a door.Just as I was about to go in, I hesitated.I suddenly felt uneasy.As soon as I stepped over the threshold, the door slammed shut behind me. A man stood up from the seat behind the desk and held out his hand toward me. "Glad we have persuaded you to come and see us, Miss Beddingfield," he said. Tall and clearly Dutch, with a shiny orange beard, he looked nothing like a museum curator.In fact, I knew immediately that I had been duped. I am falling into the clutches of the enemy.