“Oh, yes; I did. How-d’-you-do?” Staff offered his hand.
“Sure I recognised you just now—saw you on the main-deck—talking to Miss Landis, I believe.”
“Yes ...?”
“Beg pardon; I don’t wish to seem impertinent; but may I ask, do you know the lady very well?”
Staff’s eyes clouded. “Why ...”
“Knew you’d think me impertinent; but it is some of my business, really. I can explain to your satisfaction. You see”—the purser stepped nearer and lowered his voice guardedly—“I was wondering if you had much personal influence with Miss Landis. I’ve just had a bit of a chat with her, and she won’t listen to reason, you know, about that collar.”
“Collar?” Staff repeated stupidly.
“The Cadogan collar, you know—some silly pearl necklace worth a king’s ransom. She bought it in Paris—Miss Landis did; at least, so the report runs; and she doesn’t deny it, as a matter of fact. Naturally that worries me; it’s a rather tempting proposition to leave lying round a stateroom; and I asked her just now to let me take care of it for her—put it in my safe, you know. It’d be a devilish nasty thing for the ship, to have it stolen.” The purser paused for effect. “Would you believe it? She wouldn’t listen to me! Told me she was quite capable of taking care of her own property! Now if you know her well enough to say the right word ... it’d be a weight off my mind, I can tell you!”
“Yes, I can imagine so,” said Staff thoughtfully. “But—what makes you think there’s any possibility—”
“Well, one never knows what sort of people the ship carries—as a rule, that is. But in this instance I’ve got good reason to believe there’s at least one man aboard who wouldn’t mind lifting that collar; and he’s keen enough to do it prettily, too, if what they tell of him is true.”