I
There was a moment of deep silence in the cabin after the definite and cruel accusation was made. Clement swept the little crowd with a glance he strove to make amazed.
“I have been accused of theft! I am to be searched!...” he said. “My dear Heavy, this is absurd!”
“I know! I know! I’ve said that already. This la—they’ve taken the matter into their own hands.”
“But to be searched—the idea is infamous.”
“You can refuse,” said Heavy. “And await—er—the authorities.”
“And I stay here,” said the lady, like a figure of vengeance, “until the authorities come. I am not going to lose my tiara.”
“You’d scarcely do that, madam,” said the captain soothingly. “Even—even if Mr. Seadon had it, he could scarcely get rid of it. If he tried to get rid of it through his porthole people would see him—we’re alongside. And in any case his porthole is shut....”
Seadon, with a start, darted a glance to the porthole. Heavy’s remarks had closed that loophole pretty thoroughly, he thought.
“All the same, I stay,” said the lady implacably. “Unless, of course, Mr. Seadon allows us to search.”
“Shall I signal the police, sir?” asked the evil-looking little steward.
“Is this the man who accused me?” Clement asked sharply, and as the captain nodded, “What’s the reason behind this charge?” he demanded cuttingly of the fellow.
“Reason b’ind it?” snarled the man. “Ain’t no reason be’ind it. It’s just that when Mrs. Smot said she lorst ’er dimend terara, well I recalled or recollected I’d seen you ’angin’ about suspicious like, comin’ out of ’er cabin where an’ when you ’ad no right to be there.”
“And how is it you saw me come out of this lady’s cabin?”
“’Ow! ’Ow! Strewth, ain’t I ’er cabin steward?”
“Oh, you’re her cabin steward. You’re the one who has the entré to her cabin. What’s the record of this man, Heavy?” Seadon rapped out the sentences with a fighting air, obviously trying to parry suspicion.
“Don’t know,” answered Heavy, who was feeling that it was rather stupid of Seadon to act like this, when a search, distasteful though it might be, would clear him at once. “Don’t know. He only signed on this voyage; we don’t know anything about him.”
“If you think you c’n switch it off ter me,” said the steward with an evil grin, “lemme tell you I don’t mind being searched, anyhow.”
“Oh!” said Clement, catching his breath.
“Yes,” said the lady acidly. “I don’t see why any man, if he is innocent, should object to being searched.”
Clement acknowledged that he could no longer fence off the evil moment. He turned to the captain with a resigned air. “There are my bags,” he said. “I haven’t been in the baggage room since I came aboard, as your baggage master can testify. If that tiara is anywhere it is in my suitcases.” He pointedly drew attention to his suitcases. He noted that the steward attended to this fact. For though he searched the suitcases with great cunning, starting first on the one he had not put the tiara into, so as to hide his own knowledge, he seemed to have something on his mind.
It was very definitely on his mind after he had drawn blank in the suitcases, had drawn blank in his careful examination of the cabin, and had reassured himself that the porthole had been locked, anyhow, since this morning.
He stood up studying Clement with lowering and evil eyes. He said, “No, it ain’t anywhere ’ere. Not in the suitcases or anywheres. There’s only ’imself.”
“You seem curiously anxious to fix suspicion on me,” said Clement sharply. “To divert it, I might say.”
“Well, there’s nowhere else, is there?” snapped the man.
“Captain Heavy,” said Clement, with an anger that must affect the captain, “Am I to submit to this outrage any longer? Is this man to fix suspicion on me for some reason of his own?...”
“I don’t want ter search ’im, if ’e don’t want it. There’s always th’ police,” said the steward.
Clement turned swiftly to the captain. He held his arms out straight. “Please search me, captain,” he said savagely.
Captain Heavy with a little shrug, and a “I wish this was merely a joke, old man,” searched Clement. He did the job in the Scotland Yard manner. It was complete, it was brilliantly thorough. When he had finished he stepped back and stared at the steward. He also stared at the lady. And he said, bitterly, “Well?”
The lady’s face showed that apoplectical tint that might come to even the best-nourished woman when she is torn by the two powerful but contrary emotions, those of groveling apology, and anger with a steward who had made her look a fool.
The steward—well, the steward simply goggled at Clement. There was incredulity and also fear showing in his devastated countenance. He had been ready to pounce at the first glitter of a diamond. He had been ready to suggest some hiding place overlooked by the captain. He was sure that the tiara must be on Clement’s person since it was not in his suitcase—where he himself had put it.
Captain Heavy glared at him, and snapped, “Well, my man, what have you got to say? You’ve subjected a passenger on my ship to a disgusting indignity—for what?”
“It—it must be on ’im,” said the steward, sullenly backing away, his mind absolutely bewildered by the unexpected absence of the tiara.
“Must!” thundered the captain. “Good God! man, do you want me to take his skin off?”
“Well, ’e ’as it. Didn’t I see ’im ’angin’ about——”
“We’ll get to the bottom of this. As I knew, Mr. Seadon did not take that tiara. Why the devil did you accuse him? I want to know that? And now.”
“I think”—said Clement in a cold voice—“I think I have already suggested why.”
“Eh, Seadon? You suggested? What did you suggest, my good chap?” cried the captain, only too anxious for the good of his service to make amends.
“I suggested that he was anxious to fix suspicion on some one—some one other than himself.”
“Yes—to divert suspicion. That’s it. That’s what you said,” snapped the lady, who not only had a natural instinct for finding scapegoats, but who owed the steward something for making her appear so conspicuously foolish.
“Ah, divert suspicion,” said the captain, swinging round on the steward and appreciating his substantial air of villainy for the first time. “I see. You are this lady’s cabin steward, and——”
Clement might have helped the good work along. There was no need. The lady was only too anxious to help the good work along herself.
“And he had the run of my cabin,” she piped. “He could go in there whenever he liked, do what he liked, take what he liked.”
“I never,” snarled the steward, cringing back, glaring hate at Clement. He felt that this softy-looking young man had turned the tables on him in some way. He was afraid. But more, he resented the fact that this dandy fellow, who looked the last person to possess brains in good working order should be tying him in such a knot. As his wits darted back over the happenings and the talk in that cabin during the last few minutes, he saw, blazingly, that its apparent casualness had really been a net to entangle him. In a desperate effort to beat the brain working against him, he cried, “I never took nuthin’. If I ’ad, would I ’ave pushed meself forward in this ... brought meself inter the limelight? I risked sumthin’ accusin’ ’im, though it was me duty.”
Clement might have said something. There was no need. He never believed in doing work others could do better. The incensed lady did it much better. She cried, “That was only your vile cunning. Of course it was. My tiara is missing—who would be the first person I would accuse? The cabin steward—naturally. And naturally my cabin steward would know it. If he wasn’t a thief—it wouldn’t matter. If he was—well, he’d do his best to divert suspicion, as Mr. Sneezedon——”
“Seadon,” from Heavy.
“—Seadon said. Oh, I see it. You suggested some one I did not know, on the other side of the ship, to lead me away. You joined furiously in the search so that I should be convinced that you, at least, were honest. Oh, I see it. I see it. You pretended to be honest to cover up your guilt.”
“Guilt ... cut out the guilt. I ain’t guilty,” snarled the steward, backing farther away, and watching Clement all the time. What had this man who looked so inconsequent, and wasn’t, up his sleeve. “I didn’t take that terara.” He made another desperate effort in defense. “An’—an’ why should I pick on this gentleman ’ere, of all passengers. Why?”
Clement cut in like a flash. This was his time to speak. “Because at the very beginning of the voyage I kicked you out of this cabin—since you were in it, and had no right to be in it. Because you tampered with my private papers during the voyage, and you know I know it, and want either to prejudice beforehand any report I might make, or to get me out of the way.... Isn’t that true?”
“My God!” jerked the man at the mention of the papers, “’ow did you know that?... I mean I never did.” He stared at Clement, his face working. If the gang had utilized that stolen letter with great effect against Clement, he had turned their own weapon against them with dismaying force. The mere mention of it had staggered the steward. Already convicted of theft out of his own mouth the steward was at a loss. It was Captain Heavy who acted next. He rang the cabin bell imperiously. When Clement’s own steward, Nicholson, answered, he snapped, “Nicholson, have this man’s effects searched—at once. Make it a thorough search. A diamond tiara is missing. This fellow has accused Mr. Clement Seadon of taking it.” Nicholson regarded the evil-faced steward with a sudden glance in which benevolence was conspicuously absent. He knew Mr. Clement Seadon. Also Captain Heavy knew he knew Mr. Clement Seadon. “It’s more than likely that he has merely accused Mr. Seadon to distract attention from himself. Get to it.”
Nicholson got to it. With another unbrotherly glance at the steward he nipped out of the cabin and sped towards the glory hole. The evil-faced lad attempted an air of insouciance. He even called after Nicholson, “Search ’ard, me bucky. I’ve already expressed me willingness.”
The lady who had been so ready to accuse proved herself more than ready to apologize. Her method of apology was lavish, but particularly unsatisfactory to the evil-faced steward. It was one long hymn of hate concerning the steward. His feelings grew more and more disturbed as the minutes passed.
He was confident it was all right, it was bound to be all right, he told himself. He’d been most careful. Nothing could go wrong with ’im. Nothing ... or anyhow, he thought nothing could go wrong with him. He saw no reason for feeling scared ... but....
Nicholson came into the cabin.
Nicholson looked wisely at Clement; with resignation at his superior officer; with a certain touch of cheeriness at the evil-faced steward.
He lifted his right hand. He opened it. Something flamed and flashed.
“My tiara,” screamed the lady.
“In the pocket of this,” said Nicholson, lifting up a steward’s white jacket.
“My coat—my oath,” blurted the evil-faced steward.
There was no doubt about it. That dirty coat with its yellow stain—probably rust—on its arm and shoulder was unmistakable. Everybody recognized it. Clement Seadon had never forgotten it, in fact.
“A cunnin’ hiding-place,” said Nicholson. “Hunted all through his—his effects, as ordered, finding nothing. Never thought of looking in his coat. Never would have thought. Only we see it hanging in the glory hole.”
That was where Clement Seadon had seen it hanging last—in the glory hole when he had dodged in there for cover. He smiled.
“My oath!” burst out the evil-faced steward, seeing that smile. “My oath—in my coat pocket. You put it there.”
He stared at Clement in hate. Clement’s smile was even sweeter.
“Of course I put it there.” And only he and the steward knew that he was telling the truth. The others merely appreciated his sarcasm.
“That settles that,” said Captain Heavy. “Nicholson, take this brute out, and keep him safe until the police come aboard. Seadon, I can’t tell you how mad I am that all this has happened. It’s infamous.... If it’s any consolation, I’ll promise you that this scoundrel will be made to suffer in full....”
But the rest doesn’t matter, nor do the voluble apologies of the lady of the tiara matter. All that matters is that Clement Seadon left the Empress for the Château Frontenac, just about the time that the police went on board her to arrest and convey the steward to prison.
And in the lobby of the Château Frontenac, the first person he saw was the mountain of a man—Mr. Neuburg.
Mr. Neuburg was standing facing the door, and he started perceptibly as Clement came into the hotel. He betrayed himself by a quick stride forward and a muttered oath.
Clement smiled. He said cheerfully, “Oh, were you expecting the other fellow? Sorry. He took my place—at the last minute. You’ll know where to find him, I think—or, anyhow, the first policeman will direct you——”
The mountain of a man stared across Clement’s shoulder for a moment. In his usually placid eye there was a red light of rage. His hand, with fist clenching, lifted to the level of his ribs. He gulped. Without another sign he swung round and went with his surprising swiftness out of the lobby.