Read Online Murder on the Lusitania by Conrad Allen - Free Book Online
Authors: Conrad Allen
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still watching the scene when the Hubermanns came up behind him.
Abigail summed up the situation at a glance.
“Are you still lurking, young man?” she said accusingly.
“Oh, good evening!” said Dillman, turning to see them. “No, I was just looking around for some friends.”
“We know whom you had in your sights, don’t we, Carlotta?”
“Yes, Abigail,” agreed her sister.
“How many times do you need to be told, sir?”
There was an asperity in her tone that made Dillman step back. They moved past, shooting him separate looks of disdain, then went to collect their young friend from the attentions of Lord Carradine. It had been an unpromising start to the evening for Dillman and there was worse to come. Cyril and Ada Weekes suddenly appeared at his elbow. When greetings had been exchanged, Weekes gave his arm a squeeze.
“Ada and I are so glad that you’re joining us for dinner. We took the liberty of inviting someone you already know to sit beside you.”
“Who is that, Mr. Weekes?”
“Mr. Erskine. The two of you seemed to get on so well.”
Dillman’s heart sank, but he contrived a grateful smile.
“Yes,” he lied bravely. “I look forward to meeting him again.”
Philip Garrow spent most of the day finding his way around the ship and learning something about its rules and regulations. Anxious to make contact with Violet Rymer, he knew that he would have to bide his time. She would still be under the close supervision of her parents. Since the three of them were traveling first class, he opted for a second-class ticket so there would be no accidental meeting. Matthew and Sylvia Rymer had to be avoided at all costs or there would be severe repercussions. The problemlay in eluding them and reaching their daughter. It would not be easy. Clear demarcation lines existed between the different classes of passengers. Warning notices kept interlopers out of forbidden areas.
Garrow obviously needed an accomplice. He chose one of the older stewards, a man seasoned in the ways of the world and accustomed to hearing odd requests from the passengers.
“What’s your name?” asked Garrow.
“Albert, sir.”
“Do you like being a steward, Albert?”
“’ave to like it, sir. It’s my calling.”
“Does it bring in a decent wage?”
“Not so as you’d notice, sir.”
“But there must be extras. Tips and so on.”
“Now and again,” admitted the other, curiosity aroused. “Why do you ask, sir? You don’t look as if you want to be a steward aboard a liner. Where’s all this leading?”
“That’s up to you, Albert.”
They were standing outside Garrow’s cabin and he fell silent while a quartet of people went past on their way to the second-class dining saloon. Sensing a chance to make money, the steward waited patiently. He was a short, stout man with graying hair. A florid complexion hinted at a fondness for alcohol. His eyes were bloodshot.
“Well, sir?” he nudged.
“Are you allowed into the first-class quarters?”
“Not unless I want to lose my job, sir. I’m confined to the second-class and, to tell you the truth, I prefers it that way. Too many airs and graces in first-class. The passengers there can be very demanding. Some of them treats you like dirt. No, sir,” he decided. “I’m ’appier here.”
“But you must know some of the stewards in first class.”
“Dozens of them. My own brother for one.”
“You have a brother on the ship?”
“Two, sir. Tom and me’s second-class. Jack’s first.”
“Can you get in touch with Jack?”
“Easily.” A considered pause. “If there was a good reason.”
“I’d like him to do a favor for me.”
“What sort of favor, sir?”
“A very simple one, Albert. I have a special friend aboard this ship. In first-class. I just want to know which cabin she’s in.”
The steward sniggered. “Like that, is it?”
“Do you think that Jack could help me?”
“’e’s not supposed to,” said the other,
Abigail summed up the situation at a glance.
“Are you still lurking, young man?” she said accusingly.
“Oh, good evening!” said Dillman, turning to see them. “No, I was just looking around for some friends.”
“We know whom you had in your sights, don’t we, Carlotta?”
“Yes, Abigail,” agreed her sister.
“How many times do you need to be told, sir?”
There was an asperity in her tone that made Dillman step back. They moved past, shooting him separate looks of disdain, then went to collect their young friend from the attentions of Lord Carradine. It had been an unpromising start to the evening for Dillman and there was worse to come. Cyril and Ada Weekes suddenly appeared at his elbow. When greetings had been exchanged, Weekes gave his arm a squeeze.
“Ada and I are so glad that you’re joining us for dinner. We took the liberty of inviting someone you already know to sit beside you.”
“Who is that, Mr. Weekes?”
“Mr. Erskine. The two of you seemed to get on so well.”
Dillman’s heart sank, but he contrived a grateful smile.
“Yes,” he lied bravely. “I look forward to meeting him again.”
Philip Garrow spent most of the day finding his way around the ship and learning something about its rules and regulations. Anxious to make contact with Violet Rymer, he knew that he would have to bide his time. She would still be under the close supervision of her parents. Since the three of them were traveling first class, he opted for a second-class ticket so there would be no accidental meeting. Matthew and Sylvia Rymer had to be avoided at all costs or there would be severe repercussions. The problemlay in eluding them and reaching their daughter. It would not be easy. Clear demarcation lines existed between the different classes of passengers. Warning notices kept interlopers out of forbidden areas.
Garrow obviously needed an accomplice. He chose one of the older stewards, a man seasoned in the ways of the world and accustomed to hearing odd requests from the passengers.
“What’s your name?” asked Garrow.
“Albert, sir.”
“Do you like being a steward, Albert?”
“’ave to like it, sir. It’s my calling.”
“Does it bring in a decent wage?”
“Not so as you’d notice, sir.”
“But there must be extras. Tips and so on.”
“Now and again,” admitted the other, curiosity aroused. “Why do you ask, sir? You don’t look as if you want to be a steward aboard a liner. Where’s all this leading?”
“That’s up to you, Albert.”
They were standing outside Garrow’s cabin and he fell silent while a quartet of people went past on their way to the second-class dining saloon. Sensing a chance to make money, the steward waited patiently. He was a short, stout man with graying hair. A florid complexion hinted at a fondness for alcohol. His eyes were bloodshot.
“Well, sir?” he nudged.
“Are you allowed into the first-class quarters?”
“Not unless I want to lose my job, sir. I’m confined to the second-class and, to tell you the truth, I prefers it that way. Too many airs and graces in first-class. The passengers there can be very demanding. Some of them treats you like dirt. No, sir,” he decided. “I’m ’appier here.”
“But you must know some of the stewards in first class.”
“Dozens of them. My own brother for one.”
“You have a brother on the ship?”
“Two, sir. Tom and me’s second-class. Jack’s first.”
“Can you get in touch with Jack?”
“Easily.” A considered pause. “If there was a good reason.”
“I’d like him to do a favor for me.”
“What sort of favor, sir?”
“A very simple one, Albert. I have a special friend aboard this ship. In first-class. I just want to know which cabin she’s in.”
The steward sniggered. “Like that, is it?”
“Do you think that Jack could help me?”
“’e’s not supposed to,” said the other,
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