“Are you, by any chance, referring to the mysterious cabin mate who takes surreptitious midnight strolls with your valet?”
“Oh,” Leith said, “you know about that?”
She said, “In my position, I try to know everything.”
“And thought that you should tell me about it?”
“Yes.”
“Thanks,” Leith said, “for your loyalty.”
She met his eyes. “There is one other thing. I was commissioned by my government to recover that necklace, sell it, and bring the proceeds back to China.”
“Thanks for telling me,” Leith said. “I surmised it.”
Leith was reading a book when Ora Sanders, wearing a short-skirted sports outfit, shook off a group of admirers to drop into the empty deck chair beside him.
“When,” she asked, “do we do sleight of hand?”
“Tonight,” Leith said. “An impromptu entertainment by passengers. I have agreed to do a turn.”
“That’s fine,” she said.
“You will, of course, wear your stage costume.”
“I was hoping for that.”
“Hoping?” he asked.
“Yes,” she laughed. “So many of the male passengers have expressed a desire to see more of me.”
“There is always the swimming tank,” Leith suggested.
“I thought it might be better not to give them a preview.”
“Very wise,” he said. “By the way, have you met the captain?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Think you could turn loose the battery of your eyes on him and make a suggestion?”
She nodded.
“At two o’clock tomorrow afternoon,” Leith said, “I notice a skeet shoot is scheduled. I think it would be an excellent idea to advise the captain that we have aboard, in the person of Mr. Silman Shore, a trapshooter of nationwide reputation. It would be very appropriate if Mr. Shore should give a little exhibition for the benefit of the passengers. He—” He broke off at the expression on her face. “What is it?”
“How many people do you have making suggestions?” she asked. “Why?”
“That suggestion,” she said, “was communicated to the captain this morning, shortly after the skeet shoot was noticed on the bulletin board.”
“Who suggested it to him?”
“A Japanese by the name of Shogiro, a very interesting gentleman who has spent much of his time trying to cultivate my acquaintance.”
Leith considered the statement in thoughtful silence. At length, he said, “Proof that great minds run in the same channels.”
“Tell me,” she said, “did my announcement distress you?”
“Not distress me,” Leith said, “but it does give me food for thought — food which must be carefully chewed lest it give me mental indigestion.”
She slid out of the chair with her sports skirt sliding up the well-shaped legs. “Okay,” she said, “I’ll run along before you get a mental tummyache.”
“Don’t do that again,” Leith said.
“What?”
“Distract my attention,” he said. “Remember that your province is to distract the attention of the audience.”
“And I can’t practice on you a little bit?”
“Well,” Leith said judicially, “just a little — a very little bit.”
Half an hour later, Katiska Shogiro dropped casually into the deck chair next to Lester Leith’s. After a moment, he said in his very polite manner, “Excussse pleassse, but would it be interrupting your honorable meditations unduly if I humbly ask for match?”
“Not in the least,” Leith said, and handed over a packet of matches.
Shogiro lit his cigarette. “Passengers,” he said conversationally, “have explain that very skillful magician is aboard contained in person of honorable you. Is possible perhaps that attentive student may look forward to exhibition tonight?”
Leith said, “I would hardly commend my amateurish attempts to the observation of an interested student. You know something of sleight of hand?”
Shogiro laughed. “Only very small ability,” he said, “but large interest.”
Leith said, “The idea of magic is to furnish entertainment. To a student of the art, the tricks will prove very transparent. I trust that you will remember that explanation destroys the mystery.”
“Oh, quite,” Shogiro said.
“I trust that I can count upon your silent cooperation?”
“Even clam,” Shogiro explained, “is like parrot compared with Japanese contemplation of magic performed by good friend who gives matches to humble and unworthy student.”
Lester Leith’s face showed relief.
“You are perhaps of long-time proficiency?” Shogiro asked.
“No,” Leith said. “My performance makes up in equipment that which it lacks in skill.”
“Equipment?” Shogiro asked.
“Equipment for misdirecting attention,” Leith said. “As a student, you will realize that the success of all magic lies in misdirecting the attention of the observer.”
“Oh, quite,” Shogiro said.
“Therefore,” Leith said, “I have sought to avail myself of the greatest attention distracter known to science.”
“Referring to which?”
“The pulchritude of feminine curves,” Leith said. “Miss Sanders has consented to act as my accomplice.”
“Very estimable distraction,” Shogiro said.
“I trust it will prove quite sufficient.”
“Confidence indeed is not misplaced,” Shogiro remarked, arising abruptly from the chair. “And now humble student begs permission to retire and leave honorable master in contemplation of mystifying trickery to be performed in evening. Thanking you very much.”
“Not at all,” Leith said, and Shogiro walked rapidly down the deck, his manner that of a man who is embarking upon a very definite mission.
Entertainment that night was in the hands of the passengers who contributed various forms of diversion. A dance team headed for Australia put on a tap dance, an artistic waltz, and a variation of the rumba. A poetess whose work had been published in some of the national magazines recited her favorite poem. A pianist played a selection from the classics, followed by some comedy jazz and a ragtime interpretation of one of the more familiar tunes of the Gay Nineties.
Beaver slipped through a rear door and took a seat in the back of the social hall. A moment later he signaled, and Sergeant Ackley, making himself as inconspicuous as possible, slipped into the adjoining chair and slumped down so as to make himself less noticeable. “Watch him, Beaver,” he whispered. “He’s going to pull something with this sleight-of-hand business.”
Up in the front row, Mah Foy was separated only by two chairs from Katiska Shogiro, who sat perfectly still, a smile of fixed politeness frozen on his face.
A couple of stewards started bringing in various pieces of equipment. The purser, who acted as master of ceremonies, said, “We have with us tonight a man who can do tricks that would make masters envious. These are no ordinary sleight-of-hand tricks. These optical illusions represent the latest achievements of science. It gives me great pleasure to introduce Mr. Lester Leith.”
Leith came forward and bowed. There was polite applause.
He said, “May I have your indulgence for a moment, please?” and walked down to where Mah Foy was seated.
“Shortly after the performance starts,” he whispered in the ear of the Chinese girl, “a man who was at that dinner is going to get up and leave the room. I want you to follow him and later tell me where he goes and what he does.”
Mah Foy nodded.
Leith stepped back to the lighted circle and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, let me present my assistant, Miss Ora Sanders.”