Peggy came just a trifle above Mrs. Perrigord's shoulder. Evidently as a sort of intellectual touch, she had put on her shell-rimmed spectacles and an exuberant amount of make-up. Her frock was what looked to Morgan like a batik pattern. She was speaking with animation to the monocled Mrs. Perrigord, who seemed to convey nuances of reply by ghostly silent movements of eyebrow and lip. At the foot of the stairs Morgan expected her to break off and come to their table; but she did nothing of the kind. To Morgan she made an almost imperceptible signal; of what, he was not sure. Then she went on with the Perrigords to their table.
Warren muttered something in muffled surprise, after which they noted something else. Coming down the staircase a short distance behind them shuffled the big and amiable figure of Captain Valvick, whose sandy hair was brushed up straight and his leathery face once more netted with wrinkles as he listened to some tale. The tale was being told him, in fact, by Mr. Charles Woodcock. Mr. Woodcock, who freely described himself as the Bug-powder Boy, seemed excited. Invariably, when excited his thin frame seemed to hop and twist; an optical illusion, because he kept his eyes fixed on your face while he poured out a rapid string of words in a confidential undertone.
"What's Valvick up to?" demanded Warren. "All the allies seem to be working except us. Have you noticed our square-head's been keeping away from Woodcock, because they're both powerful yarn-spinners and they put each other out like a couple of forest fires? Well, then, look how quiet he's keeping and tell me what's on his mind."
Morgan didn't know; he supposed it was Mr. Woodcock's version of what had occurred last night. If so conservative a Presbyterian as Dr. Oliver Harrison Kyle had suggested rape, then he shuddered to think of the goings-on that would present themselves to the versatile imagination of the Bug-powder Boy. The dining-saloon was rapidly filling up, pulsing now with a joyous babble and clamour as of prisoners released, but they heard Mr. Woodcock's hearty voice. He said, "All right, old socks. Don't forget to tell your pals," and slapped Captain Valvick on the back as he went towards his own table.
With a puzzled expression Valvick lumbered towards their table. He beamed a good morning, swung round his chair, and uttered the word:
"Mermaid!"
Morgan blinked. "Don't," he said. "For God's sake stop! That's enough. If anybody tells me that Captain Whistler was chasing a mermaid around C deck last night, the last shred of my sanity will be gone. Don't say it! I can't bear to hear any more!"
"Eh?" said Valvick, staring. "What iss dis? Ay nefer hear anyt'ing like dat, dough ay haff a mess-boy once who say he hass seen one. Dis iss Mr. Woodcock's invention— ay tell you about it, but ay haff to listen to him a lot because he know a lot about diss crook… "
Valvick sat down.
"Listen! Ay got bot' de hatches full off news. Ay tell you all about it, but first ay tell you de most important. Captain Whistler want all of us up in his cabin after breakfast, and — coroosh! — he t'ink he know who de criminal is."
10 — Dramatis Personae
After the captain had ordered porridge and the table steward had gone, a rather nervous Warren put down his coffee-cup.
"Knows who the criminal is? He's not getting any funny ideas, is he? About us, I mean?"
Chuckling, Valvick made a broad gesture. "Coroosh, no! Not at all. Dat ain't it. Ay dunno yust what it is, but he send Sparks to my cabin to say we all got to come up after mess. Sparks say de captain get a wireless message, but he will not tell me what iss in it until we see old Barnacle."
"I wonder," said Morgan.
"So dat remind, and ay say to Sparks — iss de wireless-operator; all de wireless-operators iss Sparkses, you see— ay say, "Sparks, you wass on duty yesterday afternoon, eh?" And he say, "Yes." And den ay say, "Sparks, do you remember when de old man receive dat first message about de crook, and hass a row wit' you? Wass dere some odder people in de cabin wit' you at de time?" When he says yes, den ay describe dat girl we find cracked on de head last night, and ay say, "Sparks, was she dere?" (All Sparkses is hawful wit' de ladies, so ay know he remember her if she wass.) Halso, if she send or receive a message, he iss going to know her name, eh?"
"Neat!" said Warren. "Swell! Who was she?"
"Ahhhh, dass de trouble. He remember her, but he dunno. Dere was several people, and halso a cousin of Sparks which is travelling as a passenger. She came in, and see dere is people in a waiting-line, so he guess she don't want to wait and she turn round and go out; he say she hass got 'ands full of papers. No matter! We find out when we know who iss missing. Now is de part I want to tell you…"
The porridge had arrived. Captain Valvick emptied the creamjug over it, bent his vast shoulders, adjusted his elbows in a wing-like spread, and spoke between excavations.
"Well, we get to talking, you see, and ay give him a drink of Old Rob Roy, and he say, "Coroosh! Captain, but my cousin Alick could haff use dis whisky last night." Den he tell me his cousin Alick hass suffered somet'ing hawful with de yumping toothache, and de doctor hass give him somet'ing to put on it, but it don't do no good. And ay say, "So-ho?" ay say, "den he should haff come to me, for ay know somet'ing dat cure him bing-bing." It iss composed—"
"Not to interrupt you, Skipper," said Morgan, who was keeping a wary eye out for a signal from Peggy at the Perrigords' table, "but are you sure this is strictly—"
"Ay am sure, you bet!" returned the other, with snorting excitement. "Listen. He say, "Den ay wish you would go see him," Sparks say; "he iss only round in C 47… ' " "Sorry," said Morgan, and jerked his head back. "C 47, eh? Well?"
"So we go to C 47, which iss in de gangway just hopposite Dr. Kyle's. Eh? And hiss cousin is walking round in circles with de 'ot-water-bag, and sometimes he go and bump his head on de bulkhead, and say, "Coroosh! ay wish ay wass dead," and ay pity de poor fallar hawful. So ay write out what he hass to get at doctor's, and send Sparks for it. In fife minutes dat pain go, and de poor fallar can't believe it, and he got tears in his eyes when he t'ank me. Oh, ay forgot to tell you he iss a prizefighter which is called de Bermondsey Terror. He hask me if dere is somet'ing he can do for me. Ay say no, and ay give him a drink of Old Rob Roy, but ay got a hidea yust de same." With a massive finger the captain tapped the table. "Like diss. In de night ay am t'inking to myself, and all of a sudden ay yump up in my bunk, and t'ink, "Coroosh! Maybe de doctor and de odders iss honest people, but suppose diss crook sneak into de cabin where Miss Glenn t'row dat hemerald?…"'
Morgan nodded. The old skipper was no fool. It took some time for his clicking mind to mesh its wheels, but he arrived. This idea, bringing new implications to worry Warren, caused a silence to fall on the table.
"You don't mean" — Warren gulped—"you don't mean—?"
"Oh! no! But ay t'ank ay better ask de Bermondsey Terror. Ay say, "You wass up all night wit' de toothache?" He say yes. Ay say, "Did you hear any yumps and yitters out on de deck?" He say, "Yes, ay t'ank ay hear a woman say, "Sock him again," but ay feel too bad to go see what it iss; besides," he say, "ay haf de port closed so ay don't catch cold in de yaw, and can't hear much, but," he say, "it iss close in de cabin, and ay haff de door fastened open." Dat is de way wit de lime-yuicers. Dey iss hell on cold air. Ay wass in yail once in Boston wit' a lime-yuicer, and all he do all de time iss to squawk about dat yail because it hass got steam heat… "