“Ah, divert suspicion,” said the captain, swinging round on the steward and appreciating his substantial air of villainy for the first time. “I see. You are this lady’s cabin steward, and——”
Clement might have helped the good work along. There was no need. The lady was only too anxious to help the good work along herself.
“And he had the run of my cabin,” she piped. “He could go in there whenever he liked, do what he liked, take what he liked.”
“I never,” snarled the steward, cringing back, glaring hate at Clement. He felt that this softy-looking young man had turned the tables on him in some way. He was afraid. But more, he resented the fact that this dandy fellow, who looked the last person to possess brains in good working order should be tying him in such a knot. As his wits darted back over the happenings and the talk in that cabin during the last few minutes, he saw, blazingly, that its apparent casualness had really been a net to entangle him. In a desperate effort to beat the brain working against him, he cried, “I never took nuthin’. If I ’ad, would I ’ave pushed meself forward in this ... brought meself inter the limelight? I risked sumthin’ accusin’ ’im, though it was me duty.”
Clement might have said something. There was no need. He never believed in doing work others could do better. The incensed lady did it much better. She cried, “That was only your vile cunning. Of course it was. My tiara is missing—who would be the first person I would accuse? The cabin steward—naturally. And naturally my cabin steward would know it. If he wasn’t a thief—it wouldn’t matter. If he was—well, he’d do his best to divert suspicion, as Mr. Sneezedon——”
“Seadon,” from Heavy.
“—Seadon said. Oh, I see it. You suggested some one I did not know, on the other side of the ship, to lead me away. You joined furiously in the search so that I should be convinced that you, at least, were honest. Oh, I see it. I see it. You pretended to be honest to cover up your guilt.”
“Guilt ... cut out the guilt. I ain’t guilty,” snarled the steward, backing farther away, and watching Clement all the time. What had this man who looked so inconsequent, and wasn’t, up his sleeve. “I didn’t take that terara.” He made another desperate effort in defense. “An’—an’ why should I pick on this gentleman ’ere, of all passengers. Why?”
Clement cut in like a flash. This was his time to speak. “Because at the very beginning of the voyage I kicked you out of this cabin—since you were in it, and had no right to be in it. Because you tampered with my private papers during the voyage, and you know I know it, and want either to prejudice beforehand any report I might make, or to get me out of the way.... Isn’t that true?”
“My God!” jerked the man at the mention of the papers, “’ow did you know that?... I mean I never did.” He stared at Clement, his face working. If the gang had utilized that stolen letter with great effect against Clement, he had turned their own weapon against them with dismaying force. The mere mention of it had staggered the steward. Already convicted of theft out of his own mouth the steward was at a loss. It was Captain Heavy who acted next. He rang the cabin bell imperiously. When Clement’s own steward, Nicholson, answered, he snapped, “Nicholson, have this man’s effects searched—at once. Make it a thorough search. A diamond tiara is missing. This fellow has accused Mr. Clement Seadon of taking it.” Nicholson regarded the evil-faced steward with a sudden glance in which benevolence was conspicuously absent. He knew Mr. Clement Seadon. Also Captain Heavy knew he knew Mr. Clement Seadon. “It’s more than likely that he has merely accused Mr. Seadon to distract attention from himself. Get to it.”