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Authors: Conrad Allen
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far as it goes. Mr. Dugdale was excessively polite, that’s all.”
“He’s a rich American bachelor.”
“How do you know?”
“I saw no sign of a Mrs. Dugdale. Did you?”
“No,” said Genevieve, “but my guess is that he has been married.”
“More than once, probably,” Mr. Pountney agreed. “They make a hobby of it over there.”
Genevieve laughed.
“I didn’t mean that to sound quite so flippant, and I might be wrong about Mr. Dugdale, but he—and Lenz, for that matter—were doing something that few men in their position would have done.”
“What was that, Mr. Pountney?”
“Paying far more attention to Mrs. Cathcart than to you.”
“I was not exactly ignored.”
“No,” he agreed, “but you didn’t collect the sly glances that your friend was getting from both men. They must have been blind, Miss Masefield,” he continued, touching his hat again. “Had I been sitting opposite you, I wouldn’t have noticed any other woman at the table. Good day to you.”
After bestowing an admiring smile on her, he strolled off along the deck.
______
When he saw the man in action, George Porter Dillman was forced to revise his opinion of the purser. Brian Kilhendry oozed professional charm. The blunt Irishman who had given Dillman such a tepid welcome was now chatting happily to passengers in the first-class lounge. He seemed to have mastered some of their names already and dealt with their various requests with practiced ease. Kilhendry was relaxed yet supremely in control. After glancing at his watch, the purser excused himself and headed for the door.
“Good morning,” said Dillman, intercepting him.
“Good morning, Mr. Dillman,” said Kilhendry. “Did you sleep well?”
“Extremely well.”
“We can hold our own against the Cunard Line, you know.”
“I never doubted it for a second, Mr. Kilhendry. But I’m glad of a quiet word.”
“I’m busy, I’m afraid. Save it for Martin Grandage.”
“This won’t take a moment,” said Dillman. “It’s something that your deputy might not even know about. I gather that you took possession of some Egyptian relics.”
“That’s correct,” the purser admitted crisply. “Several of them are locked away in our largest safe. I know nothing about such things, but Professor Goss, the gentleman who entrusted them to me, tells me they’re highly valuable.”
“I know. I had dinner with him and his family.”
“Oh, of course. The professor is American.”
“I was more interested in the security of his property than his nationality, Mr. Kilhendry. While the major items were lodged with you, many smaller ones were not. Mr. Goss—he prefers to be called that rather than ‘Professor’—has kept some of the relics in his cabin. I think that you should persuade him to let you put them under lock and key.”
“Why?”
“Because it eliminates the risk of theft.”
“Who would want to steal a handful of ancient stones?”
“Who would want to rob a harmless old lady in second class?” asked Dillman. “Yet that’s precisely what happened while the ship was leaving her berth. Even your famed nose has not been able to pick up the scent yet. Those ancient stones in Mr. Goss’s cabin are worth a great deal, in the right hands.”
“They’re in the right hands, Mr. Dillman. Those of your fellow countryman.”
“What happens if they go astray?”
“I should imagine the professor—or Mr. Goss—will be rather upset.”
“Don’t you think you should make sure that eventuality will not occur?”
“I can see that you’ve never been a purser,” Kilhendry said tartly. “We don’t
compel
our passengers on the P and O. We give them fair warning and leave it at that. If they wish to keep items of value in their cabins, that’s their decision. Most of the property is insured before they even step on board. It’s yet another safeguard that we offer on P and O Lines. Excuse me, Mr. Dillman,” he went on, “but I have
“He’s a rich American bachelor.”
“How do you know?”
“I saw no sign of a Mrs. Dugdale. Did you?”
“No,” said Genevieve, “but my guess is that he has been married.”
“More than once, probably,” Mr. Pountney agreed. “They make a hobby of it over there.”
Genevieve laughed.
“I didn’t mean that to sound quite so flippant, and I might be wrong about Mr. Dugdale, but he—and Lenz, for that matter—were doing something that few men in their position would have done.”
“What was that, Mr. Pountney?”
“Paying far more attention to Mrs. Cathcart than to you.”
“I was not exactly ignored.”
“No,” he agreed, “but you didn’t collect the sly glances that your friend was getting from both men. They must have been blind, Miss Masefield,” he continued, touching his hat again. “Had I been sitting opposite you, I wouldn’t have noticed any other woman at the table. Good day to you.”
After bestowing an admiring smile on her, he strolled off along the deck.
______
When he saw the man in action, George Porter Dillman was forced to revise his opinion of the purser. Brian Kilhendry oozed professional charm. The blunt Irishman who had given Dillman such a tepid welcome was now chatting happily to passengers in the first-class lounge. He seemed to have mastered some of their names already and dealt with their various requests with practiced ease. Kilhendry was relaxed yet supremely in control. After glancing at his watch, the purser excused himself and headed for the door.
“Good morning,” said Dillman, intercepting him.
“Good morning, Mr. Dillman,” said Kilhendry. “Did you sleep well?”
“Extremely well.”
“We can hold our own against the Cunard Line, you know.”
“I never doubted it for a second, Mr. Kilhendry. But I’m glad of a quiet word.”
“I’m busy, I’m afraid. Save it for Martin Grandage.”
“This won’t take a moment,” said Dillman. “It’s something that your deputy might not even know about. I gather that you took possession of some Egyptian relics.”
“That’s correct,” the purser admitted crisply. “Several of them are locked away in our largest safe. I know nothing about such things, but Professor Goss, the gentleman who entrusted them to me, tells me they’re highly valuable.”
“I know. I had dinner with him and his family.”
“Oh, of course. The professor is American.”
“I was more interested in the security of his property than his nationality, Mr. Kilhendry. While the major items were lodged with you, many smaller ones were not. Mr. Goss—he prefers to be called that rather than ‘Professor’—has kept some of the relics in his cabin. I think that you should persuade him to let you put them under lock and key.”
“Why?”
“Because it eliminates the risk of theft.”
“Who would want to steal a handful of ancient stones?”
“Who would want to rob a harmless old lady in second class?” asked Dillman. “Yet that’s precisely what happened while the ship was leaving her berth. Even your famed nose has not been able to pick up the scent yet. Those ancient stones in Mr. Goss’s cabin are worth a great deal, in the right hands.”
“They’re in the right hands, Mr. Dillman. Those of your fellow countryman.”
“What happens if they go astray?”
“I should imagine the professor—or Mr. Goss—will be rather upset.”
“Don’t you think you should make sure that eventuality will not occur?”
“I can see that you’ve never been a purser,” Kilhendry said tartly. “We don’t
compel
our passengers on the P and O. We give them fair warning and leave it at that. If they wish to keep items of value in their cabins, that’s their decision. Most of the property is insured before they even step on board. It’s yet another safeguard that we offer on P and O Lines. Excuse me, Mr. Dillman,” he went on, “but I have
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