Mason stamped water from his soggy shoes, ran to the stairway and started down it.
He made straight for Mrs. Newberry’s stateroom. The ship had turned enough to catch the huge seas on her bow, making the craft pitch and plunge.
Mason pounded on the door of the stateroom. There was no answer. He tried the knob. The door was locked. He banged with his fist, then, when there was no response, kicked with the toe of his shoe.
After a moment, he heard Mrs. Newberry’s voice. “Who is it?”
“Mason,” he said.
“Just a minute,” she told him. “I’ll let you in.”
Mason rattled the doorknob. “Open the door now,” he ordered.
She unlocked and opened the door, said, “Oh, well, come in if it’s that important.”
She was clad in stockings and peach-colored underwear. As Mason closed and locked the door, she slipped a dress over her head. “What is it?” she asked.
“Where’s your husband?”