II

Cornelia, having dealt with Miss Van Schuyler’s many needs and fantasies, took some needleworkwith her back to the saloon. She herself did not feel in the least sleepy. On the contrary she feltwide awake and slightly excited.

The bridge four were still at it. In another chair the quiet Fanthorp read a book. Cornelia satdown to her needlework.

Suddenly the door opened and Jacqueline de Bellefort came in. She stood in the doorway¹, herhead thrown back. Then she pressed a bell and sauntered across to Cornelia and sat down.

“Been ashore²?” she asked.

“Yes. I thought it was just fascinating in the moonlight.”

Jacqueline nodded.

“Yes, lovely night…A real honeymoon³ night.”

Her eyes went to the bridge table—rested a moment on Linnet Doyle.

The boy came in answer to the bell. Jacqueline ordered a double gin. As she gave the orderSimon Doyle shot a quick glance at her. A faint line of anxiety showed between his eyebrows⁴.

His wife said: “Simon, we’re waiting for you to call.”

Jacqueline hummed a little tune⁵ to herself. When the drink came, she picked it up, said: “Well,here’s to crime,” drank it off and ordered another.

Again Simon looked across from the bridge table. His calls became slightly absentminded. Hispartner, Pennington, took him to task.

Jacqueline began to hum again, at first under her breath, then louder:

“He was her man and he did her wrong….”

“Sorry,” said Simon to Pennington. “Stupid of me not to return your lead. That gives ’emrubber.”

Linnet rose to her feet.

“I’m sleepy. I think I’ll go to bed.”

“About time to turn in,” said Colonel Race.

“I’m with you,” agreed Pennington.

“Coming, Simon?”

Doyle said slowly: “Not just yet. I think I’ll have a drink first.”

Linnet nodded and went out. Race followed her. Pennington finished his drink and thenfollowed suit.

Cornelia began to gather up her embroidery⁷.

“Don’t go to bed, Miss Robson,” said Jacqueline. “Please don’t. I feel like making a night of it.

Don’t desert me.”

Cornelia sat down again.

“We girls must stick together,” said Jacqueline.

She threw back her head and laughed—a shrill⁸ laugh without merriment.

The second drink came.

“Have something,” said Jacqueline.

“No, thank you very much,” replied Cornelia.

Jacqueline tilted⁹ back her chair. She hummed now loudly: “He was her man and he did herwrong….”

Mr. Fanthorp turned a page of Europe from Within.

Simon Doyle picked up a magazine.

“Really, I think I’ll go to bed,” said Cornelia. “It’s getting very late.”

“You can’t go to bed yet,” Jacqueline declared. “I forbid you to. Tell me about yourself.”

“Well—I don’t know. There isn’t much to tell,” Cornelia faltered¹⁰. “I’ve just lived at home, and Ihaven’t been around much. This is my first trip to Europe. I’m just loving every minute of it.”

Jacqueline laughed.

“You’re a happy sort of person, aren’t you? God, I’d like to be you.”

“Oh, would you? But I mean—I’m sure—”

Cornelia felt flustered¹¹. Undoubtedly¹² Miss de Bellefort was drinking too much. That wasn’texactly a novelty to Cornelia. She had seen plenty of drunkenness during Prohibition¹³ years. Butthere was something else…Jacqueline de Bellefort was talking to her—was looking at her—andyet, Cornelia felt, it was as though, somehow, she was talking to someone else….

But there were only two other people in the room, Mr. Fanthorp and Mr. Doyle. Mr. Fanthorpseemed quite absorbed in his book. Mr. Doyle was looking rather odd—a queer sort of watchfullook on his face.

Jacqueline said again: “Tell me all about yourself.”

Always obedient, Cornelia tried to comply. She talked, rather heavily, going into unnecessarysmall details about her daily life. She was so unused to being the talker. Her role was so constantlythat of the listener. And yet Miss de Bellefort seemed to want to know. When Cornelia faltered toa standstill, the other girl was quick to prompt her.

“Go on—tell me more.”

And so Cornelia went on (“Of course, Mother’s very delicate—some days she touches nothingbut cereals—”) unhappily conscious that all she said was supremely¹⁴ uninteresting, yet flattered bythe other girl’s seeming interest. But was she interested? Wasn’t she, somehow, listening tosomething else—or, perhaps, for something else? She was looking at Cornelia, yes, but wasn’tthere someone else, sitting in the room?

“And of course we get very good art classes, and last winter I had a course of—”

(How late was it? Surely very late. She had been talking and talking. If only something definitewould happen—)

And immediately, as though in answer to her wish, something did happen. Only, at thatmoment, it seemed very natural.

Jacqueline turned her head and spoke¹⁵ to Simon Doyle.

“Ring the bell, Simon. I want another drink.”

Simon Doyle looked up from his magazine and said quietly: “The stewards¹⁶ have gone to bed.

It’s after midnight.”

“I tell you I want another drink.”

Simon said: “You’ve had quite enough to drink, Jackie.”

She swung round at him.

“What damned business is it of yours?”

He shrugged¹⁷ his shoulders, “None.”

She watched him for a minute or two. Then she said: “What’s the matter, Simon? Are youafraid?”

Simon did not answer. Rather elaborately he picked up his magazine again.

Cornelia murmured: “Oh, dear—as late as that—I—must—”

She began to fumble¹⁸, dropped a thimble….

Jacqueline said: “Don’t go to bed. I’d like another woman here—to support me.” She began tolaugh again. “Do you know what Simon over there is afraid of? He’s afraid I’m going to tell youthe story of my life.”

“Oh, really?”

Cornelia was the prey¹⁹ of conflicting emotions. She was deeply embarrassed but at the same timepleasurably thrilled. How—how black Simon Doyle was looking.

“Yes, it’s a very sad story,” said Jacqueline; her soft voice was low and mocking. “He treatedme rather badly, didn’t you, Simon?”

Simon Doyle said brutally²⁰: “Go to bed, Jackie. You’re drunk.”

“If you’re embarrassed, Simon dear, you’d better leave the room.”

Simon Doyle looked at her. The hand that held the magazine shook a little, but he spokebluntly.

“I’m staying,” he said.

Cornelia murmured for the third time, “I really must—it’s so late—”

“You’re not to go,” said Jacqueline. Her hand shot out and held the other girl in her chair.

“You’re to stay and hear what I’ve go to say.”

“Jackie,” said Simon sharply, “you’re making a fool of yourself! For God’s sake, go to bed.”

Jacqueline sat up suddenly in her chair. Words poured from her rapidly in a soft hissing²¹ stream.

“You’re afraid of a scene, aren’t you? That’s because you’re so English—so reticent²²! You wantme to behave ‘decently,’ don’t you? But I don’t care whether I behave decently or not! You’dbetter get out of here quickly—because I’m going to talk—a lot.”

Jim Fanthorp carefully shut his book, yawned, glanced at his watch, got up and strolled out. Itwas a very British and utterly²³ unconvincing performance.

Jacqueline swung round in her chair and glared at Simon.

“You damned fool,” she said thickly, “do you think you can treat me as you have done and getaway with it?”

Simon Doyle opened his lips, then shut them again. He sat quite still as though he were hopingthat her outburst would exhaust itself if he said nothing to provoke her further.

Jacqueline’s voice came thick and blurred²⁴. It fascinated Cornelia, totally unused to nakedemotions of any kind.

“I told you,” said Jacqueline, “that I’d kill you sooner than see you go to another woman…Youdon’t think I meant that? You’re wrong. I’ve only been—waiting! You’re my man! Do you hear?

You belong to me….”

Still Simon did not speak. Jacqueline’s hand fumbled²⁵ a moment or two on her lap. She leantforward.

“I told you I’d kill you and I meant it…” Her hand came up suddenly with something in it thatflashed and gleamed. “I’ll shoot you like a dog—like the dirty dog you are….”

Now at last Simon acted. He sprang to his feet, but at the same moment she pulled the trigger….

Simon fell twisted — fell across a chair… Cornelia screamed and rushed to the door. JimFanthorp was on the deck leaning over the rail. She called to him.

“Mr. Fanthorp…Mr. Fanthorp….”

He ran to her; she clutched at him incoherently….

“She’s shot him—Oh! she’s shot him….”

Simon Doyle still lay as he had fallen half into and across a chair…Jacqueline stood as thoughparalysed. She was trembling violently, and her eyes, dilated²⁶ and frightened, were staring at thecrimson stain slowly soaking through Simon’s trouser leg just below the knee where he held ahandkerchief close against the wound.

She stammered²⁷ out:

“I didn’t mean…Oh, my God, I didn’t really mean….”

The pistol dropped from her nervous fingers with a clatter²⁸ on the floor. She kicked it away withher foot. It slid under one of the settees.

Simon, his voice faint, murmured: “Fanthorp, for heaven’s sake—there’s someone coming…Say it’s all right—an accident—something. There mustn’t be a scandal over this.”

Fanthorp nodded in quick comprehension. He wheeled round to the door where a startledNubian face showed. He said: “All right—all right! Just fun!”

The black face looked doubtful, puzzled, then reassured²⁹. The teeth showed in a wide grin. Theboy nodded and went off.

Fanthorp turned back.

“That’s all right. Don’t think anybody else heard. Only sounded like a cork³⁰, you know. Now thenext thing—”

He was startled. Jacqueline suddenly began to weep hysterically³¹.

“Oh, God, I wish I were dead…I’ll kill myself.

I’ll be better dead…Oh, what have I done—what have I done?”

Cornelia hurried to her.

“Hush³², dear, hush.”

Simon, his brow wet, his face twisted with pain, said urgently:

“Get her away. For God’s sake, get her out of here! Get her to her cabin, Fanthorp. Look here,Miss Robson, get that hospital nurse of yours.” He looked appealingly from one to the other ofthem. “Don’t leave her. Make quite sure she’s safe with the nurse looking after her. Then get holdof old Bessner and bring him here. For God’s sake, don’t let any news of this get to my wife.”

Jim Fanthorp nodded comprehendingly. The quiet young man was cool and competent in anemergency.

Between them, he and Cornelia got the weeping, struggling girl out of the saloon and along thedeck to her cabin. There they had more trouble with her. She fought to free herself; her sobsredoubled.

“I’ll drown myself…I’ll drown myself….

I’m not fit to live…Oh, Simon—Simon!”

Fanthorp said to Cornelia: “Better get hold of Miss Bowers³³. I’ll stay while you get her.”

Cornelia nodded and hurried out.

As soon as she left, Jacqueline clutched Fanthorp.

“His leg—it’s bleeding—broken…He may bleed to death. I must go to him…Oh, Simon—Simon—how could I?”

Her voice rose. Fanthorp said urgently: “Quietly—quietly…He’ll be all right.”

She began to struggle again.

“Let me go! Let me throw myself overboard…Let me kill myself!”

Fanthorp holding her by the shoulders forced her back on to the bed.

“You must stay here. Don’t make a fuss. Pull yourself together. It’s all right, I tell you.”

To his relief, the distraught girl did manage to control herself a little, but he was thankful whenthe curtains were pushed aside and the efficient Miss Bowers, neatly³⁵ dressed in a hideous³⁶ kimono,entered, accompanied by Cornelia.

“Now then,” said Miss Bowers briskly, “what’s all this?”

She took charge without any sign of surprise and alarm.

Fanthorp thankfully left the overwrought girl in her capable hands and hurried along to thecabin occupied by Dr. Bessner. He knocked and entered on top of the knock.

“Dr. Bessner?”

A terrific snore resolved itself, and a startled voice asked: “So? What is it?”

By this time Fanthorp had switched the light on. The doctor blinked up at him, looking ratherlike a large owl⁶.

“It’s Doyle. He’s been shot. Miss de Bellefort shot him. He’s in the saloon. Can you come?”

The stout³⁷ doctor reacted promptly³⁸. He asked a few curt³⁴ questions, pulled on his bedroomslippers and a dressing-gown, picked up a little case of necessaries and accompanied Fanthorp tothe lounge.

Simon had managed to get the window beside him open. He was leaning his head against it,inhaling the air. His face was a ghastly colour.

Dr. Bessner came over to him.

“Ha? So? What have we here?”

A handkerchief sodden³⁹ with blood lay on the carpet, and on the carpet itself was a dark stain.

The doctor’s examination was punctuated⁴⁰ with Teutonic grunts⁴¹ and exclamations⁴².

“Yes, it is bad this…The bone is fractured. And a big loss of blood. Herr Fanthorp, you and Imust get him to my cabin. So—like this. He cannot walk. We must carry him, thus.”

As they lifted him Cornelia appeared in the doorway. Catching⁴³ sight of her, the doctor uttered agrunt of satisfaction.

“Ach, it is you? Goot. Come with us. I have need of assistance. You will be better than myfriend here. He looks a little pale already.”

Fanthorp emitted a rather sickly smile.

“Shall I get Miss Bowers?” he asked.

“You will do very well, young lady,” he announced. “You will not faint or be foolish, hein?”

“I can do what you tell me,” said Cornelia eagerly.

Bessner nodded in a satisfied fashion.

The procession passed along the deck.

The next ten minutes were purely⁴⁴ surgical⁴⁵ and Mr. Jim Fanthorp did not enjoy it at all. He feltsecretly ashamed of the superior fortitude⁴⁶ exhibited by Cornelia.

“So, that is the best I can do,” announced Dr. Bessner at last. “You have been a hero, myfriend.” He patted Simon approvingly on the shoulder. Then he rolled up his sleeve and produceda hypodermic needle.

“And now I will give you something to make you sleep. Your wife, what about her?”

Simon said weakly: “She needn’t know till the morning…” He went on: “I—you mustn’t blameJackie…It’s been all my fault. I treated her disgracefully…poor kid—she didn’t know what shewas doing….”

Dr. Bessner nodded comprehendingly.

“Yes, yes—I understand….”

“My fault—” Simon urged. His eyes went to Cornelia. “Someone—ought to stay with her. Shemight—hurt herself—”

Dr. Bessner injected the needle. Cornelia said, with quiet competence⁴⁷: It’s all right, Mr. Doyle.

Miss Bowers is going to stay with her all night….”

A grateful look flashed over Simon’s face. His body relaxed. His eyes closed. Suddenly hejerked them open. “Fanthorp?”

“Yes, Doyle.”

“The pistol…ought not to leave it…lying about. The boys will find it in the morning….”

Fanthorp nodded. “Quite right. I’ll go and get hold of it now.”

He went out of the cabin and along the deck. Miss Bowers appeared at the door of Jacqueline’scabin.

“She’ll be all right now,” she announced.

“I’ve given her a morphine injection.”

“But you’ll stay with her?”

“Oh, yes. Morphia excites some people. I shall stay all night.”

Fanthorp went on to the lounge.

Some three minutes later there was a tap on Bessner’s cabin door.

“Dr. Bessner?”

“Yes?” The stout man appeared.

Fanthorp beckoned⁴⁸ him out on the deck.

“Look here—I can’t find that pistol….”

“What is that?”

“The pistol. It dropped out of the girl’s hand. She kicked it away and it went under a settee. Itisn’t under that settee now.”

They stared at each other.

“But who can have taken it?”

Fanthorp shrugged his shoulders.

Bessner said: “It is curious, that. But I do not see what we can do about it.”

Puzzled and vaguely⁴⁹ alarmed, the two men separated.

 

点击收听单词发音