“I don’t care a damn about his passport,” said Graham violently. “I’m telling you that the man intends to kill me.”
“And why?”
“Because he has been paid to do so; that is why. Now do you understand?”
The Purser got to his feet. He had been tolerant. Now the time had come to be firm. “No, Monsieur, I do not understand.”
“Then if you cannot understand, let me speak to the Captain.”
“That will not be necessary, Monsieur. I understand enough.” He looked Graham in the eyes. “In my opinion there are two charitable explanations of this matter. Either you have mistaken this Monsieur Mavrodopoulos for someone else, or you have had a bad dream. If it is the former, I advise you not to repeat your mistake to anyone else. I am discreet, but if Monsieur Mavrodopoulos should hear of it he might regard it as a reflection upon his honour. If it is the second, I suggest that you lie down in your cabin for a while. And remember that nobody is going to murder you on this ship. There are too many people about.”
“But don’t you see …?” shouted Graham.
“I see,” said the Purser grimly, “that there is another less charitable explanation of this matter. You may have invented this story simply because for some private reason you wish to be put ashore. If that is true, I am sorry. It is a ridiculous story. In any case, the ship stops at Genoa and not before. And now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do.”
“I demand to see the Captain.”
“If you will close the door as you leave,” said the Purser happily.