“Or guilty knowledge? Which, Mr. Manvers?”
A reply seemed to tremble on Manvers’ lips, but to be withheld at discretion. “I’m not the captain,” he said after a slight pause; “go and cheek him as far as you like. And we’re keeping him waiting, if I may be permitted to mention it.”
Iff turned to Staff, with an engaging smile. “Rejecting the guilty knowledge hypothesis, for the sake of the argument,” said he: “you’ll admit I’m the only suspicious personage known to be aboard; so it’s not such a wild guess—that the collar has vanished—when I’m sent for by the captain at this unearthly hour.... Lead on, Mr. Manvers,” he wound up with a dramatic gesture.
The purser nodded and turned toward the door. Staff jumped up and followed the pair.
“You don’t mind my coming?” he asked.
“No—wish you would; you can bear witness to the captain that I did everything in my power to make Miss Landis appreciate the danger—”
“Then,” Iff interrupted suavely, “the collar has disappeared—we’re to understand?”
“Yes,” the purser assented shortly.
They scurried forward and mounted the ladder to the boat-deck, where the captain’s quarters were situated in the deckhouse immediately abaft the bridge. From an open door—for the night was as warm as it was dark—a wide stream of light fell athwart the deck, like gold upon black velvet.
Pausing en silhouette against the glow, the purser knocked discreetly. Iff ranged up beside him, dwarfed by comparison. Staff held back at a little distance.