“Everything. You’re sweet on the girl, and I don’t wish to put a crimp in your young romance by showing her up in her true colours. Furthermore, you may be hep to her little scheme; I don’t believe it, but I know that, if you are, you won’t let me suffer for it. And finally, in the senility of my dotage I conned myself into believing I could bluff it out; at the worst, I could prove my innocence easily enough. But what I didn’t take into consideration was that I was laying myself open to arrest for impersonating an agent of the Government. When I woke up to that fact, the only thing I could see to do was to duck in out of the blizzard.”
Staff said sententiously: “Hmmm....”
“Pretty thin—what?”
“In spots,” Staff agreed. “Still, I’ve got to admit you’ve managed to cover the canvas, even if your supply of paint was a bit stingy. One thing still bothers me: how did you find out I knew about the smuggling game?”
Iff nodded toward the bedroom. “I happened in—casually, as the saying runs—just as Miss Landis was telling on herself.”
Staff frowned.
“How,” he pursued presently, “can I feel sure you’re not Ismay, and, having guessed as accurately as you did, that you didn’t get at that bandbox aboard the ship and take the necklace?”
“If I were, and had, would I be here?”
“But I can’t understand why you are here!”
“It’s simple enough; I’ve any number of reasons for inviting myself to be your guest. For one, I’m wet and cold and look like a drowned rat; I can’t offer myself to a hotel looking like this—can I? Then I knew your address—you’ll remember telling me; and there’s an adage that runs ‘Any port in a storm.’ You’re going to be good enough to get my money changed—I’ve nothing but English paper—and buy me a ready-made outfit in the morning. Moreover, I’m after Ismay, and Ismay’s after the necklace; wherever it is, he will be, soon or late. Naturally I presumed you still had it—and so did he until within the hour.”