The Mask of Sumi Read online

  Joslyn stood back for Pearl. She stepped on the gangway. For a distance of no more than four feet there was nothing above her – the gangway was a kind of bridge. For a moment Pearl was in the bright sunlight.

  From above, someone shouted: “Look out!”

  Mannering, just behind the girl, glanced up and saw what seemed to be a dark, moving shadow on the white side of the ship. He thrust himself forward, pushed Pearl in the back so that she shot over the edge of the gangway into the arms of two waiting stewards. Mannering jumped forward. He felt the gangway shudder as something big and heavy crashed on to it. A woman screamed.

  “My God!” cried one of the stewards.

  There was a rending sound, a gasp, another scream. Mannering, staggering forward, was just aware of Pearl in the arms of a white-clad steward, of people dodging out of his way, of others looking horrified. He steadied, and looked round, fearfully.

  Joslyn lay on the battered gangway with a heavy wooden deck chair on him.

  “He’s all right, Mr. Mannering,” said Dr. Roughead, the ship’s surgeon. “Two or three days and he’ll be as good as new. No need to worry at all. How is the young lady?”

  “Shaken and scared, that’s all.”

  “Understandable, very understandable indeed. I shudder to think what would have happened had that heavy chair struck anyone so fragile. Sure there’s nothing I can do for her?”

  “Nothing at all.”

  “Or for you?” Dr. Roughead asked belatedly.

  “No, I’m fine,” Mannering assured.

  He escaped from the doctor and went towards the drawing-room, in the bows, then up a narrow flight of stairs to the bridge deck. An Indian sailor waited for him at the head of the stairs, and smiled shyly at Mannering’s thank you. Mannering reached an open doorway, and heard Captain Cross saying: “It’s hard to believe, Charles.”

  “We may find someone yet.”

  “May I come in?” asked Mannering.

  “Oh, yes – we’ve been waiting for you.”

  Cross, a compact, dark-haired man in his fifties, stood up from a chair in a spacious room. He wore a white shirt and knee-length shorts, and gave an impression of strength held on a tight leash. “You’ve met Charles East, the Master-at-Arms, haven’t you?”

  “Briefly,” said Mannering.

  They shook hands.

  “It’s almost incredible, but we cannot find anyone who actually saw the beginning of the incident,” said Cross. “Two able seamen say they saw a man standing on the boat deck at the time, but he was hidden by stanchions and all they saw was his back. He must have been standing immediately above the gangways. Passengers often take their own chairs up there, to get some quiet, and although they shouldn’t, it’s winked at. It couldn’t have fallen, though.”

  “No accident, then,” said Mannering.

  “It simply wasn’t possible.”

  “There isn’t much doubt that it was an attempt on your life,” East said. He was a big, hard-faced, hard-eyed man with a big jaw.

  “Oh, come!”

  “Don’t you think so?” Cross sounded as if he was commanding Mannering to agree with him. His eyes, grey and alert, had the disconcerting directness of a man used to command.

  “Would it have killed anyone?”

  “If it had struck in the right place,” East declared. “It was one of the heavy ones. If it had happened to hit Miss Toji it would at least have disfigured her.”

  “Yes,” Mannering said. He did not voice his greatest fear: that the attack had really been on the girl. “I’d say it was meant to scare me, not to kill.”

  “I trust you’re scared,” Cross said. “Mr. Mannering, we have five days’ sailing across the Mediterranean. It could be a very unpleasant voyage if we thought this kind of thing was likely to happen.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Mannering said ruefully.

  “Are you sure the mask is aboard?” Again Cross gave the impression that he did not want to believe the obvious.

  “No, but it seems very likely now,” Mannering said. “If that was an attack on me—”

  “You don’t seriously doubt that, do you?” asked East. He seemed almost annoyed at the possibility of doubt.

  “Not really,” admitted Mannering. “And why should anyone try to kill, scare, or intimidate me if they didn’t want to stop me looking for the mask?”

  “Reasonable enough,” East conceded.

  “It’s an ugly situation,” said Cross gloomily.

  “There’s one thing we ought to remember,” Mannering said. “The man with the mask knows I’m aboard but doesn’t know I’m here with your approval.”

  East leaned forward.

  “Meaning what?”

  “If he’s kept in ignorance of the help I can call on he’s more likely to try again,” Mannering said.

  “You want him to?” Cross’s voice rose.

  “It might be the easiest and quickest way to catch him.”

  “I hand it to you,” said Cross heavily.

  “There’s something in it,” agreed East. “Yes. I think it would be better if there’s no official association between us. But we can help a lot in the background, and make sure you’re never absolutely on your own.”

  “I wouldn’t do that,” Mannering said. He smiled at Cross. “I might want to do things you wouldn’t want to know about! Forget me, but keep a special eye on Miss Toji, will you?”

  “I don’t know what kind of thing you want to do on your own, but don’t go too far, Mr. Mannering. My duty is to my passengers and the Company. I must watch the interests of both. You understand that, don’t you?”

  “Fully,” Mannering said.

  “And don’t run away with the idea that you’ll be able to do much without being noticed,” said Cross. “There’s always someone about.” He frowned. “You seriously think we ought to watch Miss Toji?”

  “If I know that East is looking after her I can do my job better.”

  “I’m not sure I shouldn’t have put you both ashore,” Cross said gruffly. “What do you intend to do first?”

  “Size up the passengers,” Mannering said simply. “Can you let me have a marked passenger list showing all the people you can vouch for?”

  “There’ll be no trouble about that,” said Cross. “Most of the people on board are from Kenya, Uganda, or the Rhodesias – three quarters of them have been out and back with us at least twice before. A few are going out for the first time, mostly youngsters. Have you any idea what type of person you’re looking for?”

  “No.”

  “Or whether he’s on his own or with his wife?”

  “For all I know he could be with his wife and family,” Mannering said. “But he’s more likely to be on his own. This kind of caper isn’t one you do with a crowd. They might be a man and woman travelling separately.”

  “How soon do you want the list marked?”

  “Can it be today?”

  “Yes, of course,” said Cross. “I’ll send it down to your cabin. When you’ve got it, you’ll have to start sorting the passengers out, won’t you?”

  “I’m going to start on that right away,” Mannering said.

  “How?”

  “Enter for all the sports and pastimes,” Mannering said simply. “There’s one other thing you could do for me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Find a passenger about my build who could spare me a couple of pairs of shorts and a pair of shoes or sandals,” Mannering said. “I can get shirts at the shop.”

  “That’ll be easy,” said Cross. “Sir Harry Katman has a wardrobe big enough for a dozen people, and he’s about your size. I’ll get the Purser to introduce you.”

  “Thanks very much,” Mannering said.

 
When he had left the Captain’s cabin, Cross picked up a radio-telephone message from the Company he had received while at Gibraltar. It read:

  “Extend all reasonable facilities to John Mannering use your own judgment we will support you.”

  Cross smiled to himself, and then sent for the ship’s surgeon for a report on the injured passenger.

  Katman was almost identical in figure and height with Mannering, but a man in his sixties. He was affable and helpful. Mannering tried on a pair of navy blue shorts and a pair of wine-red swimming trunks and a pair of beautifully worked leather sandals.

  “That’s made all the difference in the world,” he said.

  “Pleasure, my dear chap,” said Katman. “Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”

  Mannering went off.

  Pearl, in a cabin on the same deck, was wearing a cotton dress with a delicate pattern on it. Mannering could well understand how her beauty would affect the men on board.

  “Now let’s go and enter into the spirit of shipboard life,” said Mannering.

  “And remember that one of the passengers is a murderer,” Pearl said, gravely.

  The chairman of the Sports Committee was a Major Thomas, and his right-hand man was young Raymond Joslyn, who was soon up and about. A big board outside the main entrance hall was already covered with lists of Deck Games competitions. Mannering, under amiable pressure from Joslyn himself, cheerfully signed at the bottom of the lists headed:

  Table Tennis – men’s singles

  “ “ – mixed doubles

  Deck Tennis – mixed doubles

  “ “ – men’s singles

  Deck Quoits – mixed doubles

  “ “ – men’s singles

  Shuffleboard – men’s singles

  “ “ – mixed doubles

  As he did so he studied the other names to help to familiarise himself with them. Several appeared on each list: Joslyn, Thomas, a man named Corrison, and several more. On the women’s lists one of the most prominent was a woman named Naomi Ransom.

  Mannering played in the mixed games with Pearl, who had aptitude and some experience, and took all the games seriously. His left wrist was still swollen but did not handicap him very much. Gradually, he was able to put names to the faces of all the passengers in the games without showing too much curiosity. Everyone began to show personality and character, many dull, some lively, a few both lively and intelligent. Pearl, a little aloof at first, gradually lost her gravity and solemnness. She began to laugh more freely, as if the shadow of her father’s death was already receding.

  But she was watching, watching, all the time.

  And so was Mannering.

  Chapter Nine

  SUSPECTS

  Mannering recognised the South African and Rhodesian accents and the less noticeable accents of the Kenyans, the rather affected sound of some English voices. Gradually he became used to them. There was the inevitable core of hearty players and hearty talkers. Mannering met more and more men and women whose names were on the games boards, heard snippets of conversation, saw some elderly people obviously preoccupied, quite as many bored. A few sat about reading, mostly thrillers, a few westerns, a few heavy-looking tomes.

  The sea was as calm as the Mediterranean could be, but a breeze kept the heat down.

  Mannering studied his marked passenger list, and put first this, then that man off the suspects. Gradually, the picture took shape. Except for known people or obviously innocent ones going to Africa for the first time there were five men and three women on board who might be involved.

  One of them was Katman.

  Another was Geoffrey Nares, a man in his thirties, nearly as tall as Mannering, well-groomed, active. They met for the first time at deck quoits, passed the usual pleasantries, and then began to play in earnest. Mannering won with a point to spare.

  “Now let me buy you a drink,” Mannering said.

  “Nice of you.” They went to the ballroom, the sliding doors of which were all wide open. The heat was more oppressive today. Pearl was sitting with two youngish couples and Raymond Joslyn, whose right hand was bandaged and whose forehead was discoloured with bruises. It did not stop him from being good at games. Mannering waved across to her.

  “You’re the Mannering, aren’t you?” asked Nares.

  “I’m the Quinns Mannering,” agreed Mannering lightly.

  “Same thing. Is the Japanese girl any relation to Nikko Toji?”

  Mannering said: “Yes. She’s a Thai, by the way.”

  “Never can tell these Orientals apart,” Nares said casually. Mannering began to dislike him. “Sly lot, on the whole. The Pearl of Thai doesn’t seem particularly upset about papa, does she?”

  Mannering felt almost a sense of shock.

  “Orientals hide their feelings pretty well, too,” he made himself say.

  “A devoted daughter ought to be desolate about the death of her father,” Nares said. “Surprising how westernised they’re becoming.”

  “In some ways,” Mannering temporised.

  “What brings you to Africa?” asked Nares.

  Mannering said briskly: “Business.”

  Nares chuckled.

  “Nice tax excuse, anyhow! Oh, don’t think I mind. We all do it. Do me a favour, will you?”

  Mannering said: “If I can.”

  “Introduce me to the Pearl of Thai – she’s really something in statistics, and she might have Western ideas about bed-life, too.”

  “She has very definite ideas about a lot of things,” Mannering said.

  He disliked Nares more than he had disliked a man for a long time, but that didn’t make him the chief suspect.

  An elderly, deeply tanned man with grizzled hair and the most piercing blue eyes stopped Mannering later that day.

  “I think we have to play table tennis. My name’s O’Keefe.”

  They shook hands.

  “Aren’t you John Mannering of Quinns?” asked O’Keefe.

  “That’s right.”

  “Often thought that too little attention is paid by antique dealers and people like yourself to Africa,” said the grizzled man.

  He was Ralph O’Keefe, according to the passenger list, and his occupation was listed on his passport as: Independent Means.

  “How right you are,” said Mannering.

  “I could introduce you to a few people who know where to put their hands on some very valuable and rare things,” O’Keefe volunteered.

  “Really?”

  “Let me know if I can help, won’t you?”

  “I certainly will,” said Mannering. “Like to get this game over? The table’s free.”

  O’Keefe was ten years older than Mannering, yet won in two straight, lively sets. They arranged a drink together.

  “Now I’ll go and hunt for my opponent in the semi-finals,” said O’Keefe.

  It was nearly lunchtime on the third day out. The chimes of the gong were clearly audible, most families had already gone down to tidy up for the meal. Mannering went along to his own cabin. There was a note on the mat, and he expected it to be an invitation to a cocktail party.

  Instead, there were two sentences on East Africa Star paper.

  “If you interfere any further you will regret it. Enjoy your trip and get off at Port Said, taking the coloured girl with you.”

  Mannering thought almost with elation: “He’s getting worried!”

  He went down to luncheon. Pearl was already there with a middle-aged and a youngish couple who shared it with them. She was unrolling her table-napkin when a slip of paper fell out. It fluttered to the floor, and the Indian waiter bent down to retrieve it, quickly.

  “Thank you.” She was smiling with that quiet charm which distinguished her when she un
folded the paper. She glanced down – and immediately lost her colour. She looked as if she were badly shocked.

  She tucked it into her dress, and from then on behaved quite naturally.

  “Where is it?” Mannering asked her.

  Pearl took the paper out of the neck of her dress and handed it to him. He opened it, and read:

  “Go home, you yellow-skinned bitch, or you’ll regret it. Fly from Port Said.”

  Mannering said: “Pearl, I’m terribly sorry.”

  “It is my own fault,” she said. “I came here against advice from the police.”

  “Of course you came,” Mannering said.

  Her eyes lit up.

  “You think I was right?”

  “If you’re your father’s daughter I don’t see what else you could have done,” Mannering said. “How far will you go?”

  “I don’t understand you.”

  “There are at least five men on board, any one of whom might be the man we’re after.”

  “Yes, I know. They are Nares, O’Keefe, Katman, Corrison, and Mehta.” Corrison was an Australian who said he was going to explore the possibilities of large scale sheep farming in parts of the highlands.

  “Kikuyu or no bloody Kikuyu,” he would say blandly.

  Mehta was an Indian, whom rumour said was an Arab sheik travelling in disguise. He was a small but very handsome man, sallow-skinned, with a hooked nose. He was pleasant to everyone, and his manners and his accent had obviously been acquired in England.

  “How well do you know them?” Mannering asked.

  “Not very well.”

  “Nares is anxious to get to know you better.”

  “I am quite aware of that,” said Pearl, with feeling.

  “You probably won’t find him very nice to know. But—”

  “It might be helpful for me to get to know him and the others, you mean?”

  “I think so. Talk to them and try to make them talk about themselves.”

  “I will do this, of course.” Pearl had been very subdued since the note incident, but began to cheer up now. “I will do anything at all to find the man we are seeking.”