Black Box — The Ship of Horror Part 1
THE SHIP OF HORROR
Quest leaned a little forward and gazed down the line of steamer chairs.
The Professor, in a borrowed overcoat and cap, was reclining at full length, studying a book on seagulls which he had found in the library.
Laura and Lenora were both dozing tranquilly.
Mr. Harris of Scotland Yard was deep in a volume of detective stories.
"As a pleasure cruise," Quest remarked grimly, "this little excursion seems to be a complete success."
Laura opened her eyes at once.
"Trying to get my goat again, eh?"
she retorted.
"I suppose that's what you're after.
Going to tell me, I suppose, that it wasn't Craig I saw board this steamer?"
"We are all liable to make mistakes," Quest observed, "and I am inclined to believe that this is one of yours."
Laura's expression was a little dogged.
"If he's too clever for you and Mr. Harris," she said, "I can't help that.
I only know that he came on board.
My eyes are the one thing in life I do believe."
"If you'll excuse my saying so, Miss Laura," Harris ventured, leaning deferentially towards her, "there isn't a passenger on board this ship, or a servant, or one of the crew, whom we haven't seen.
We've been into every stateroom, and we've even searched the hold.
We've been over the ship, backwards and forwards.
The Captain's own steward has been our guide, and we've conducted an extra search on our own account.
Personally, I must say I have come to the same conclusion as Mr. Quest.
At the present moment there is no such person as the man we are looking for, on board this steamer."
"Then he either changed on to another one," Laura declared obstinately, "or else he jumped overboard."
Harris, who was a very polite man, gazed thoughtfully seaward.
Quest smiled.
"When Laura's set on a thing," he remarked, "she takes a little moving.
What do you think about it, Professor?"
The Professor laid down his book, keeping his finger in the place.
He had the air of a man perfectly content with himself and his surroundings.
"My friend," he said, "I boarded this steamer with only one thought in my mind--Craig.
At the present moment, I feel myself compelled to plead guilty to a complete change of outlook.
The horrors of the last few months seem to have passed from my brain like a dream.
I lie here, I watch these white-winged birds wheeling around us, I watch the sunshine make jewels of the spray, I breathe this wonderful air, I relax my body to the slow, soothing movements of the boat, and I feel a new life stealing through me.
Is Craig really on board?
Was it really he whom Miss Laura here saw?
At the present moment, I really do not care.
I learn from the steward, who arranged my bath this morning, that we are bound for India.
I am very glad to hear it.
It is some time since I saw Bombay, and the thought of these long days of complete peace fills me with a most indescribable satisfaction."
Quest grunted a little as he knocked the ash from his cigar.
"Not much of the bloodhound about the Professor," he remarked.
"What about you, Lenora?"
She smiled at him.
"I agree entirely with the Professor," she murmured, "except that I am not quite so sure that I appreciate the rhythmical movement of the boat as he seems to.
For the rest, I have just that feeling that I would like to go on and on and forget all the horrible things that have happened, to live in a sort of dream, and wake up in a world from which Craig had vanished altogether."
"Enervating effect this voyage seems to be having upon you all," Quest grumbled.
"Even Harris there looks far too well contented with life."
The detective smiled.
He was young and fresh-coloured, with a shrewd but pleasant face.
He glanced involuntarily at Laura as he spoke.
"Well, Mr. Quest," he said, "I didn't bring you on the steamer so I don't feel any responsibility about it, but I must confess that I am enjoying the trip.
I haven't had a holiday this year."
Quest struggled to his feet and threw back the rug in his chair.
"If you all persist in turning this into a pleasure cruise," he remarked, "I suppose I'll have to alter my own point of view.
Come on, Harris, you and I promised to report to the Captain this morning.
I don't suppose he'll be any too pleased with us.
Let's get through with it."
The two men walked down the deck together.
They found the Captain alone in his room, with a chart spread out in front of him and a pair of compasses in his hand.
He turned round and greeted them.
"Well?"
"No luck, sir," Quest announced.
"Your steward has given us every assistance possible and we have searched the ship thoroughly.
Unless he has found a hiding place unknown to your steward, and not apparent to us, the man is not on board."
The Captain frowned slightly.
"You are not suggesting that that is possible, I suppose?"
Quest did not at once reply.
He was thinking of Laura's obstinacy.
"Personally," he admitted, "I should not have believed it possible.
The young lady of our party, however, who declares that she saw Craig board the steamer, is quite immovable."
The Captain rose to his feet.
He was a man of medium height, strongly built, with short brown beard and keen blue eyes.
"This matter must be cleared up entirely," he declared brusquely.
"If you will excuse me for a moment, I will talk to the young lady myself."
He walked firmly down the deck to where the two girls were seated, and paused in front of Laura.
"So you're the young lady," he remarked, touching his cap, "who thinks that I come to sea with criminals stowed away on my ship?"
"I don't know what your habits are, Captain," Laura replied, "but this particular criminal boarded your ship all right in Southampton Harbour."
"Anything wrong with your eyesight?"
the Captain enquired blandly.
"No," Laura assured him.
"I saw the man, saw him just as plainly as I see you now."
"Do you know," the Captain persisted, "that Mr. Quest and Mr. Harris have searched every nook and corner of the ship?
They have had an absolutely free hand, and my own steward has been their guide.
They have seen every man, boy, woman and animal amongst my crew or passengers."
"They've been fooled somehow," Laura muttered.
The Captain frowned.
He was on the point of a sharp rejoinder when he met Laura's eyes.
She was smiling very faintly and there was something in her expression which changed his whole point of view.
"I'll go and make a few enquiries myself," he declared.
"See you at dinner-time, I hope, young ladies."
"If you keep her as steady as this," Laura promised, "there are hopes."
He disappeared along the deck, and presently re-entered his room, where Harris and Quest were waiting for him.
He was followed by his steward, an under-sized man with pallid complexion and nervous manner.
He closed the door behind him.
"Brown," he said, turning to the steward, "I understand you to say that you have taken these gentlemen into every corner of the ship, that you have ransacked every possible hiding-place, that you have given them every possible opportunity of searching for themselves?"
"That is quite true, sir," the man acknowledged.
"You agree with me that it is impossible for any one to remain hidden in this ship?"
"Absolutely, sir."
"You hear, gentlemen?"
the Captain continued.
"I really can do no more.
It is perfectly clear to me that the man you are seeking is not on my ship.
Your very charming young lady friend seems to think it impossible that she could have been mistaken, but as a matter of fact she was.
If I might take the liberty, Mr. Quest, I would suggest that you ask her, at any rate, to keep her suspicions to herself."
"I'll see she doesn't talk," Quest promised.
"Very sorry to have given you all this trouble, I'm sure."
"It's no trouble," the Captain replied, "and apart from the disagreeable nature of your business, I am delighted to have you on board.
If you can forget your suspicions about this fellow Craig, I shall do my best to make your trip a pleasant one as far as Port Said, or on to India if you decide to take the trip with me."
"Very good of you, Captain, I'm sure," Quest pronounced.
"We shall go on keeping our eyes open, of course, but apart from that we'll forget the fellow."
The Captain nodded.
"I am coming down to dinner to-night," he announced, "and shall hope to find you in your places.
What the mischief are you hanging about for, Brown?"
he asked, turning to the steward, who was standing by with a carpet-sweeper in his hand.
"Room wants cleaning out badly, sir."
The Captain glanced distastefully at the carpet-sweeper.
"Do it when I am at dinner, then," he ordered, "and take that damned thing away."
The steward obeyed promptly.
Quest and Harris followed him down the deck.
"Queer-looking fellow, that," the latter remarked.
"Doesn't seem quite at his ease, does he?"
"Seemed a trifle over-anxious, I thought, when he was showing us round the ship," Quest agreed.
"M-m," Harris murmured softly, "as the gentleman who wrote the volume of detective stories I am reading puts it, we'd better keep our eye on Brown."
The Captain, who was down to dinner unusually early, rose to welcome Quest's little party and himself arranged the seats.
"You, Miss Lenora," he said, "will please sit on my left, and you, Miss Laura, on my right.
Mr. Quest, will you sit on the other side of Miss Laura, and Mr. Harris two places down on my left.
There is an old lady who expects to be at the table, but the steward tells me she hasn't been in yet."
They settled down into the places arranged for them.
Harris was looking a little glum.
Lenora and Quest exchanged a meaning glance.
"I'm not sure that I appreciate this arrangement," Harris whispered to his neighbour.
"You may be candid," Lenora replied, "but you aren't very polite, are you?"
Harris almost blushed as he realized his slip.
"I am sorry," he said, "but to tell you the truth," he added, glancing towards Quest, "I fancied that you were feeling about the same."
"We women are poor dissemblers," Lenora murmured.
"Do look how angry this old woman seems."
An elderly lady, dressed in somewhat oppressive black, with a big cameo brooch at her throat and a black satin bag in her hand, was being shown by the steward to a seat by Quest's side.
She acknowledged the Captain's greeting acidly.
"Good evening, Captain," she said.
"I understood from the second steward that the seat on your right hand would be reserved for me.
I am Mrs. Foston Rowe."
The Captain received the announcement calmly.
"Very pleased to have you at the table, madam," he replied.
"As to the seating, I leave that entirely to the steward.
I never interfere myself."
Laura pinched his arm, and Lenora glanced away to hide a smile.
Mrs. Foston Rowe studied the menu disapprovingly.
"Hors d'oeuvres," she declared, "I never touch.
No one knows how long they've been opened.
Bouillon--I will have some bouillon, steward."
"In one moment, madam."
The Professor just then came ambling along towards the table.
"I fear that I am a few moments late," he remarked, as he took the chair next to Mrs. Foston Rowe.
"I offer you my apologies, Captain.
I
congratulate you upon your library.
I have discovered a most interesting book upon the habits of seagulls.
It kept me engrossed until the very last moment."
"Very disagreeable habits, those I've noticed," Mrs. Foston Rowe sniffed.
"Madam," the Professor assured her, "yours is but a superficial view.
For myself, I must confess that the days upon which I learn something new in life are days of happiness for me.
To-day is an example; I have learnt something new about seagulls, and I am hungry."
"Well, you'll have to stay hungry a long time at this table, then," Mrs. Foston Rowe snapped.
"Seems to me that the service is going to be abominable."
The steward, who had just arrived, presented a cup of bouillon to Quest.
The others had all been served.
Quest stirred it thoughtfully.
"And as to the custom," Mrs. Foston Rowe continued, "of serving gentlemen before ladies, it is, I suppose, peculiar to this steamer."
Quest hastily laid down his spoon, raised the cup of bouillon and presented it with a little bow to his neighbour.
"Pray allow me, madam," he begged.
"The steward was to blame."
Mrs. Foston Rowe did not hesitate for a moment.
She broke up some toast in the bouillon and commenced to sip it.
"Your politeness will at least teach them a lesson," she said.
"I am used to travel by the P. & O.
and from what I have seen of this steamer--" The spoon suddenly went clattering from her fingers.
She caught at the sides of the table, there was a strange look in her face.
With scarcely a murmur she fell back in her seat.
Quest leaned hurriedly forward.
"Captain!"
he exclaimed.
"Steward!
Mrs. Foston Rowe is ill."
There was a slight commotion.
The Doctor came hurrying up from the other side of the salon.
He bent over her and his face grew grave.
"What is it?"
the Captain demanded.
The Doctor glanced at him meaningly.
"She had better be carried out," he whispered.
It was all done in a moment.
There was nothing but Mrs. Foston Rowe's empty place at the table and the cup of bouillon, to remind them of what had happened.
"Was it a faint?"
Lenora asked.
"We shall know directly," the Captain replied.
"Better keep our places, I think.
Steward, serve the dinner as usual."
The man held out his hand to withdraw the cup of bouillon, but Quest drew it towards him.
"Let it wait for a moment," he ordered.
He glanced at the Captain, who nodded back.
In a few moments the Doctor reappeared.
He leaned down and whispered to the Captain.
"Dead!"
The Captain gave no sign.
"Better call it heart failure," the Doctor continued.
"I'll let the people know quietly.
I don't in the least understand the symptoms, though."
Quest turned around.
"Doctor," he said, "I happen to have my chemical chest with me, and some special testing tubes.
If you'll allow me, I'd like to examine this cup of bouillon.
You might come round, too, if you will."
The Captain nodded.
"I'd better stay here for a time," he decided.
"I'll follow you presently."
The service of dinner was resumed.
Laura, however, sent plate after plate away.
The Captain watched her anxiously.
"I can't help it," she explained.
"I don't know whether you've had any talk with Mr. Quest, but we've been through some queer times lately.
I
guess this death business is getting on my nerves."
The Captain was startled.
"You don't for a moment connect Mrs. Foston Rowe's death with the criminal you are in search of?"
he exclaimed.
Laura sat quite still for a moment.
"The bouillon was offered first to Mr. Quest," she murmured.
The Captain called his steward.
"Where did you get the bouillon you served--that last cup especially?"
he asked.
"From the pantry just as usual, sir," the man answered.
"It was all served out from the same cauldron."
"Any chance of any one getting at it?"
"Quite impossible, sir!"
Laura rose to her feet.
"Sorry," she apologized, "I can't eat anything.
I'm off on deck."
The Captain rose promptly.
"I'll escort you, if I may," he suggested.
Harris, too, rose from his place, after a final and regretful glance at the menu, and joined the others.
The Captain, however, drew Laura's arm through his as they reached the stairs, and Harris, with a little shrug of the shoulders, made his way to Quest's stateroom.
The Doctor, the Professor, Quest and Lenora were all gathered around two little tubes, which the criminologist was examining with an electric torch.
"No reaction at all," the latter muttered.
"This isn't an ordinary poison, any way."
The Professor, who had been standing on one side, suddenly gave vent to a soft exclamation.
