“That only makes it the more mysterious. Because, you see, it’s unlocked now.”
There was a concerted movement of astonishment.
“How do you make that out, sir?” demanded the captain.
“You can see for yourself (to borrow Miss Landis’ phrase) if you’ll only use your eyes, as I have. The side clasps are in place, all right, but the slide on the lock itself is pushed a trifle to the left; which it couldn’t be if the bag were locked.”
There was a hint of derision in the little man’s voice; and his sarcastic smile was flickering round his thin lips as he put out one hand, drew the bag to him, lifted the clasps, and pushing back the lock-slide, opened it wide.
“The thot plickens,” he observed gravely. “For my part I am unable to imagine any bold and enterprising crook taking the trouble to cut open this bag when the most casual examination would have shown him that it wasn’t locked.”
“He might ’ve done it as a blind....” Manvers suggested.
“Officer!” piped Iff in a plaintive voice—“he’s in again.”
The purser, colouring to the temples, took a step toward the little man, his hands twitching, but at a gesture from the captain paused, controlled himself and fell back.
For a few moments there was quiet in the cabin, while those present digested Iff’s conclusions and acknowledged their logic irrefragable. Staff caught Alison staring at the man as if fascinated, with a curious, intense look in her eyes the significance of which he could not fathom.