Page:ManInBrownSuit-Christie.pdf/77

68 If my deductions were wrong, if nothing happened at one o'clock, I should have made a fool of myself, and spent all the money I had in the world on a mare's-nest. My heart beat painfully.

Two bells went overhead. One o'clock! And nothing. Wait—what was that? I heard the quick light patter of feet running—running along the passage.

Then with the suddenness of a bombshell my cabin door burst open and a man almost fell inside.

"Save me," he said hoarsely. "They're after me."

It was not a moment for argument or explanation. I could hear footsteps outside. I had about forty seconds in which to act. I had sprung to my feet and was standing facing the stranger in the middle of the cabin.

A cabin does not abound in hiding-places for a six-foot man. With one arm I pulled out my cabin trunk. He slipped down behind it under the bunk. I raised the lid. At the same time, with the other hand I pulled down the wash-basin. A deft movement and my hair was screwed into a tiny knot on the top of my head. From the point of view of appearance it was inartistic, from another standpoint it was supremely artistic. A lady, with her hair screwed into an unbecoming knob and in the act of removing a piece of soap from her trunk with which, apparently to wash her neck, could hardly be suspected of harbouring a fugitive.

There was a knock at the door, and without waiting for me to say, "Come in," it was pushed open.

I don't know what I expected to see. I think I had vague ideas of Mr. Pagett brandishing a revolver. Or my missionary friend with a sandbag, or some other lethal weapon. But certainly I did not expect to see a night stewardess, with an inquiring face and looking the essence of respectability.

"I beg your pardon, miss, I thought you called out."