Betty Waddell could furnish no clews. She told her story from the beginning. She had heard a shot; had come to see her father lying dead. She spoke in praise of a strange man clad in black, who had saved her from death.
The one clew was an absent one. An oddly shaped trunk was missing from Betty Waddell’s cabin. But she did not know of the loss. Hysterical after her terrible ordeal, she was placed in the doctor’s care, and did not return to Cabin 7-D.
The quizzing of the passengers revealed nothing. By the time the questioners had come to Ivan Motkin, who took his turn along with the rest, the suave Russian had regained his composure. He knew nothing.
He had been in his cabin. That was all. He passed inspection.
AS the Gasconne neared New York harbor, Ivan Motkin kept to two places. One was the smoking room, the other was his cabin. The Red agent was in constant dread — not of discovery by the ship’s officers, but of a new encounter with that strange apparition in black.
He had only one hope; that his archenemy had been one of the slain. But that hope was faint. Ivan Motkin was constantly on guard.
He identified this man in black with the American whom he had captured in Moscow, and who had eluded him. But nowhere on the ship did he encounter any one who would have passed for Henry Arnaud.
With his trepidation, Motkin felt elation. In New York, he would find new Red agents. They would be there to help him. He had seen what no one else had seen — the three men pitching the big trunk overboard.
That action, Motkin had been sure, was not one of destruction, but of safety. Somewhere, in the vicinity of where the Gasconne had been, a small ship must have been waiting to pick up the precious object.
For Motkin was sure that he knew the contents of that trunk.