importuning the night pantryman for some crumbs to give her new pet.
“I myself was drowsing on the boat deck, as you all know,” Miss Withers said. “Miss Noring was looking for her roommate, and came up the forward ladder at approximately eleven. She heard nothing, she says.”
Only Tom Hammond had not spoken. He looked at the doctor. “I was three dollars ahead of the crap game,” he said dryly, “at approximately eleven. Isn’t that so, Doctor?”
Dr. Waite nodded, “Yes—I guess so—there were five or six of us in my diggings,” he explained. “The purser, the third officer, Mr. Hammond, and the Colonel. Later in the evening Noel, the bar steward, wandered in and lost a couple of dollars.” He turned to Leslie Reverson. “That was after you left, I guess.”
“Oh, yes,” said Reverson. “I forgot to mention that I went down there.” He reddened a little.
Dr. Waite was conscious of Miss Withers’ disapproval. “Just a little game for dimes and quarters,” he hastened on. “It passes the time away. The boys were in and out of my place until one o’clock or so, but I couldn’t set any exact hour. Anyway, we were too busy wooing the goddess of luck to hear anything.”
He had finished his lunch, and Miss Withers rose and walked out of the saloon with him. “I’d like to see your office,” she suggested. He held the door open and ushered her into a spick-and-span suite, surprisingly well equipped with hospital and medical apparatus. Along one wall was a medicine cabinet holding hundreds of neatly labeled bottles.
Miss Withers tried the handle and found the door unlocked. “You have quite a stock of drugs,” she observed.
“Have to keep ’em,” said Waite. “Can’t send out to get a prescription filled here, you know.”
There were two portholes on either side of the cabinet, above the thick soft rug upon which male members of the party had hazarded their dimes and quarters. This was the starboard side of the ship, and very nearly at the point amidships where Miss Withers had last seen Rosemary Fraser two decks above.
Upon pressure, the doctor admitted that in the course of the dice game several of the players had stepped out from time to time to get sandwiches and coffee at the near-by pantry. He was thus very inexact as to hours, except that he remembered that young Reverson had wandered in and out again shortly after ten. “The kid seemed nervous about something,” recollected Dr. Waite.
Miss Withers nodded and pointed to the tightly fastened portholes. “Were these open last night?”
“Fresh air is bad for gambling,” explained Waite. “They were just as you see them now. We couldn’t have heard a foghorn through that thick glass.”
“I don’t suppose—” began Miss Withers. Then she stopped as a rap came on the door. It was Mrs. Snoaks, afire with tidings.
“Miss Noring is taking a bath!” she shouted, as soon as she saw that her search for Miss Withers was over. Then she departed, and after an uneasy moment the school teacher followed her, concealing a certain eagerness.
Dr. Waite sat down at his desk and prescribed three fingers of brandy for himself. His brow was wrinkled with perplexity. “Why in blazes shouldn’t Miss Noring take a bath?” he asked himself aloud.
Something was going on that he did not understand. He walked out of his office and saw Loulu Hammond going up the stair. On a wild impulse he tried the news on her. “Miss Noring is taking a bath,” he hazarded.
“Amazing!” said Loulu Hammond, and passed on out of sight.
At that moment Miss Hildegarde Withers, the most eminently respectable passenger on board, was on her knees before the keyhole of Candida Noring’s stateroom. She had brought a twisted hairpin with her, but her own key turned with only slight difficulty in the lock. Miss Withers entered, locked the door behind her, and drew the curtain across the portholes. Then she looked at her watch. It was two o’clock in the
“I myself was drowsing on the boat deck, as you all know,” Miss Withers said. “Miss Noring was looking for her roommate, and came up the forward ladder at approximately eleven. She heard nothing, she says.”
Only Tom Hammond had not spoken. He looked at the doctor. “I was three dollars ahead of the crap game,” he said dryly, “at approximately eleven. Isn’t that so, Doctor?”
Dr. Waite nodded, “Yes—I guess so—there were five or six of us in my diggings,” he explained. “The purser, the third officer, Mr. Hammond, and the Colonel. Later in the evening Noel, the bar steward, wandered in and lost a couple of dollars.” He turned to Leslie Reverson. “That was after you left, I guess.”
“Oh, yes,” said Reverson. “I forgot to mention that I went down there.” He reddened a little.
Dr. Waite was conscious of Miss Withers’ disapproval. “Just a little game for dimes and quarters,” he hastened on. “It passes the time away. The boys were in and out of my place until one o’clock or so, but I couldn’t set any exact hour. Anyway, we were too busy wooing the goddess of luck to hear anything.”
He had finished his lunch, and Miss Withers rose and walked out of the saloon with him. “I’d like to see your office,” she suggested. He held the door open and ushered her into a spick-and-span suite, surprisingly well equipped with hospital and medical apparatus. Along one wall was a medicine cabinet holding hundreds of neatly labeled bottles.
Miss Withers tried the handle and found the door unlocked. “You have quite a stock of drugs,” she observed.
“Have to keep ’em,” said Waite. “Can’t send out to get a prescription filled here, you know.”
There were two portholes on either side of the cabinet, above the thick soft rug upon which male members of the party had hazarded their dimes and quarters. This was the starboard side of the ship, and very nearly at the point amidships where Miss Withers had last seen Rosemary Fraser two decks above.
Upon pressure, the doctor admitted that in the course of the dice game several of the players had stepped out from time to time to get sandwiches and coffee at the near-by pantry. He was thus very inexact as to hours, except that he remembered that young Reverson had wandered in and out again shortly after ten. “The kid seemed nervous about something,” recollected Dr. Waite.
Miss Withers nodded and pointed to the tightly fastened portholes. “Were these open last night?”
“Fresh air is bad for gambling,” explained Waite. “They were just as you see them now. We couldn’t have heard a foghorn through that thick glass.”
“I don’t suppose—” began Miss Withers. Then she stopped as a rap came on the door. It was Mrs. Snoaks, afire with tidings.
“Miss Noring is taking a bath!” she shouted, as soon as she saw that her search for Miss Withers was over. Then she departed, and after an uneasy moment the school teacher followed her, concealing a certain eagerness.
Dr. Waite sat down at his desk and prescribed three fingers of brandy for himself. His brow was wrinkled with perplexity. “Why in blazes shouldn’t Miss Noring take a bath?” he asked himself aloud.
Something was going on that he did not understand. He walked out of his office and saw Loulu Hammond going up the stair. On a wild impulse he tried the news on her. “Miss Noring is taking a bath,” he hazarded.
“Amazing!” said Loulu Hammond, and passed on out of sight.
At that moment Miss Hildegarde Withers, the most eminently respectable passenger on board, was on her knees before the keyhole of Candida Noring’s stateroom. She had brought a twisted hairpin with her, but her own key turned with only slight difficulty in the lock. Miss Withers entered, locked the door behind her, and drew the curtain across the portholes. Then she looked at her watch. It was two o’clock in the
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