“No, sir, I didn’t.”
Mr. Quayle now turned to Cathy.
“And you, miss?”
“I—I’m afraid I haven’t anything to tell you either, sir. Miss Barr and I tried to make the passengers comfortable—she usually works the forward part of the ship while I work aft—and then it was time to serve lunch. Then we straightened up, and—Well, I honestly didn’t notice a thing out of the ordinary.”
“Thank you, Miss Solms,” Mr. Quayle said wearily. This was obviously a job that he had to do, and he wanted to get it over as quickly as possible. “Did you notice anything that might help us, Miss Barr?”
Vicki couldn’t erase the picture of the sick, tired old violinist out of her mind. It might all be silly, she told herself. But then again ...
She told the story exactly as it had happened. From the time he had boarded the airplane, bewildered, hungry, almost starved, until he had gotten off and she had found the folded travel brochure on his seat.
“But what makes you think this old musician had anything to do with the theft of the gold coins, Miss Barr?” Mr. Quayle asked, obviously impatient.
“Nothing makes me think so, Mr. Quayle,” Vicki answered. “You asked me if anything unusual had happened on the flight. Mr. Tytell was unusual, and I thought I had better tell you about him.”
“Quite right! Quite right!” John Quayle said, nodding his head and fumbling with a file of papers on the desk in front of him. “At the moment I can’t see how the incident could have any bearing on our investigation, but I’ll keep it in mind.”