Anita!
CHAPTER IX
The Murder in A 22
“Good God, what was that?” Dr. Frank’s face had gone white in the starlight. Snap stood like a statue of horror.
The deck here was patched as always, silver radiance from the deck ports. The empty deck chairs stood about. The scream was stilled, but now we heard a commotion inside––the rasp of opening cabin doors; questions from frightened passengers; the scurry of feet.
I found my voice. “Anita! Anita Prince!”
“Come on!” shouted Snap. “Was it 333 the Prince girl? I thought so too! In her stateroom, A 22!” He was dashing for the lounge archway.
Dr. Frank and I followed. I realized that we passed the deck door and window of A 22. But they were dark, and evidently sealed on the inside. The dim lounge was in a turmoil; passengers standing at their cabin doors. I heard Sir Arthur Coniston:
“I say, what was that?”