Murder on the Marmora (12 page)

“Try to offer her as much support as you can,” suggested Genevieve.

“Oh, I will,” said the other. “It’s the one good thing to come out of this business. Mother and I were able to talk properly for the first time.”

“ ‘Properly?’ ”

“Without arguing. I’ve been so silly and childish—I can see that now. Mother has been saintly with me, really, and so have you, Miss Masefield.”

“Me?”

“Yes,” said Lilian. “Both of you put up with me hanging on to you because I didn’t feel able to stand on my own feet. I owe you an apology as well as Mother.”

“No, you don’t.”

“It was very naughty of me to unload my worries on you.”

“That’s what friends are for,” Genevieve said warmly. “I’ve enjoyed our time together. I’m just sad that you haven’t been able
to get into the spirit of things. Everyone else came aboard determined to have a good time, whereas you seemed resigned to suffer. There must be something about the
Marmora
that you like.”

“Oh, there is,” Lilian agreed with a show of enthusiasm. “Meeting you has been wonderful, of course, and there have been other people whose company has been very pleasant. Then there’s the royal party,” she added. “Every time they’ve come out on deck, I’ve been there to watch them.”

“By the time you reach Port Said, you’ll be bored by the sight of them.”

“That could never happen.”

Genevieve was touched by Lilian’s honesty in admitting that she had been in the wrong and was delighted that her attitude toward the voyage was now more positive. The sudden disappearance of Walter Dugdale had brought mother and daughter closer and yet, paradoxically, it had also pushed them apart slightly. Genevieve could see that Lilian would no longer be so dependent on her mother or, indeed, on Genevieve herself. In a short space of time, Lilian Cathcart had visibly grown up.

“When did you last speak to Mr. Dugdale?” asked Genevieve.

“It must have been that night we finished up in the lounge with him,” replied Lilian. “Mother was so cross about that. She wanted to stay and talk to him but I made her come away with me. Do you see what I mean about being selfish? Mother hated having to leave him alone with that German lady.”

“Frau Zumpe?”

Lilian was surprised. “You know her?”

“Yes,” Genevieve said casually, “I bumped into her one day. She’s not a lady you can easily forget. How did she get on with Mr. Dugdale?”

“Very well, as it happens,” said Lilian. “He somehow managed to charm her. I think that’s what annoyed Mother. That and Herr Lenz, of course.”

“What was he up to?”

“He kept speaking in German to Frau Zumpe. It was very rude of him.”

“You can hardly blame the man for wanting to use his own language.”

“But it excluded the rest of us. Except Mr. Pountney, that is. He knew enough German to realize what they were talking about and he teased them a little. That stopped them.” A smile touched her lips. “Mr. Pountney is a very nice man.”

“I wondered when you’d notice that,” said Genevieve.

“So cultured and assured.”

“You should get to know him better.”

“Oh, he’s not interested in me,” Lilian said wistfully. “Though he did ask me a lot of questions about our family business. He’d actually heard of Cathcart’s Shoes. It turns out he’s had business dealings in Leicester himself.”

“There you are. You have something in common with him already.”

“Not really. He didn’t pay much attention to me. He was too busy telling the others about his investments in Egypt. Mr. Pountney said it is important to get a stake in the country,” she recalled. “He told us he wished that he’d been around when the Suez Canal was being built. He’d have snapped up as many shares as he could. Apparently, that’s what Mr. Disraeli did when he was prime minister.”

“Yes, it was a brilliant investment. I was taught about it at school.”

“I don’t know anything about business,” said Lilian, “but I was intrigued by what he told us. So was Frau Zumpe. She kept pressing him for more details. Mr. Pountney is such a marvelous talker. I could listen to him for hours.”

“So why did you drag your mother away?”

“He’d left by then. So had Herr Lenz.”

“So there were just the four of you.”

“Three, really,” confessed Lilian. “I might just as well have not been there because I didn’t say a word. I just sat there and sulked while Mr. Dugdale talked to mother and Frau Zumpe. He made them laugh but I was seething with anger.” She pulled a face. “That’s why I feel so rotten about it now. I do hope I get the chance to make amends for it when he gets better.”

“We’ll have to wait and see,” said Genevieve, knowing that it was a vain hope. “The main thing is that you recognize your mistakes. That’s something to build on. And I don’t think you should assume that Mr. Pountney has no interest in you. I’ve seen him give you admiring glances a number of times.”

“I can’t compete with the person who’s really caught his attention.”

“And who’s that?”

“You, of course,” said Lilian. “He talked about you a lot to Mother and wants to know all about you. Surely, you must have noticed. You’ve made a conquest.”

Dillman had gone no more than a dozen yards from his cabin when he was ambushed. Polly Goss had been lying in wait for him. She was wearing a white satin evening dress, silver earrings, an Egyptian necklace, and far more cosmetics than before. Dillman caught a whiff of her perfume as she pounced on him.

“When are you going to listen to me playing the flute?” she asked.

“Whenever it is convenient,” he replied.

“I have the feeling that you don’t really want to, Mr. Dillman.”

“That’s not true at all. Suggest a time.”

“Tomorrow morning? Ten o’clock?”

“I’ll be in the first-class music room on the dot,” he promised, “and I’m sure that I’ll hear some first-class music. Have you decided what you’re going to play?”

“Not yet.”

Polly Goss showed her teeth in what she thought was an alluring smile but it only served to remind Dillman how young and
immature she still was. He could see that she felt a trifle neglected by him so he offered her his arm to take her in to dinner. She took it at once and gave a little laugh of triumph.

“It doesn’t have to be in the music room,” she pointed out. “If you’d rather hear me in private, I could come to your cabin.”

“The music room will be better. It has proper acoustics. Besides,” he went on, “if you play in public, you’ll have a larger audience. Other people will be attracted by the sound of your flute. You’ll be like the Pied Piper of Hamelin.”

“You’re the only person I want to play for, Mr. Dillman.”

“I’ll certainly lead the applause, I know that.”

“Thank you!”

She squeezed his arm then hung on to it tight until they reached the first-class dining room. There was a slight change in the seating arrangements. Dillman sat beside Polly and opposite her parents, but the face immediately next to Morton Goss had altered. The newcomer was Sir Alistair Longton, a distinguished-looking man in his sixties with a mop of white hair and bushy side whiskers. He wore a monocle through which he peered at the evening menu.

“Splendid fare!” he observed. “I can’t fault the food on this ship.”

“Then you’d better not meet Monsieur Vivet,” said Goss. “He believes the only place that produces good chefs is France, and he’s the self-appointed master of them.”

“Yes,” added Rebecca. “He made some very harsh remarks about the food on board. We don’t think that’s the case at all. What about you, Mr. Dillman?”

“I’m on your side, Mrs. Goss,” replied Dillman. “We’ve had delicious meals.”

“Delicious meals and delightful company,” said Longton, with a chuckle.

There was a flurry of introductions and Polly was thrilled that she was dining with a member of the British peerage. It was, however,
her father whom the old man had come to meet. Morton Goss had an admirer.

“I do believe that I may have read a book of yours, Professor Goss,” Longton said.

“Really?” said Goss. “Which one?”

“Treasures of Ancient Egypt.”

“Oh, I wrote that years ago, Sir Alistair.”

“It was years ago that I read it, old chap, but I do recall how it fired my imagination. Gave me the urge to visit Egypt as well. I couldn’t believe my luck when Roland Pountney told me that you were actually on the same ship.” He gave another chuckle. “Our paths were destined to cross.”

“I’m glad that they have.”

“I was determined to sit next to you at the earliest opportunity.” He beamed at Rebecca and Polly. “And to meet your charming wife and daughter, of course. I’d better warn you that I’ve come to pick your brains, Professor Goss.”

“I’ll talk about ancient Egypt until the cows come home, Sir Alistair.”

“Not to mention the camels, eh?”

Sir Alistair Longton chortled happily. He was a lively individual and kept the conversation bubbling throughout the meal. Though he wanted to know about the archaeological sites Goss had visited, he did not ignore the ladies. He was attentive to Rebecca and, by the time dessert was served, Polly had acquired another member of the audience for her flute recital. Dillman liked the buoyant old gentleman. Sir Alistair had none of the airs and graces that the detective had encountered in some members of the minor aristocracy. He was friendly, open, and ready to learn.

“You obviously like Egypt, Sir Alistair,” noted Dillman.

“This is my fourth visit, Mr. Dillman,” replied the other. “First two were with my late wife—God bless her!—but the last was on my own. I was surprised how much I enjoyed it. Won’t be spending
Christmas alone, though. My son’s joining me in Cairo.”

“Where is he at the moment?”

“Somewhere in India, trying to work out how to get to Egypt.”

“Is he in the army?”

“Yes, Mr. Dillman. My old regiment.” He turned to Goss. “Do you know India?”

“I’m afraid not,” said Goss. “Studying one ancient civilization is enough for me.”

“India has its charms as well,” said Longton. “When you have another lifetime to spare, I’d urge you to explore the subcontinent. Fascinating country!”

“So I believe, Sir Alistair.”

“I miss it. But then, at my age, I’ve started to miss a lot of things!”

He chortled merrily again. Dillman bided his time until coffee was served. When there was a gap in the conversation, he did some gentle digging on his own account.

“You mentioned Mr. Pountney earlier on,” he said.

“That’s right,” returned Longton. “Do you know the fellow?”

“I introduced him to Mr. Dillman in the smoke room,” Goss explained. “He struck me as a thoroughly nice man.”

“He is, he is,” agreed Longton, “and surprisingly free from prejudice.”

“In what way?” asked Dillman.

“Well, you know what we English are. Decent chaps, all of us, but inclined to snobbery. Even now, there’s still a residual contempt for money made in trade. I don’t share that contempt. Neither does Roland Pountney,” he went on. “There aren’t many Englishmen who’d give up their Christmas at home so that they could keep an eye on a commercial venture in Egypt. That’s what he’s doing.”

“He told us that you were a prospective investor, Sir Alistair.”

“I am, Mr. Dillman. It’s something I’m seriously considering.”

“What is the project?”

“A new hotel,” said Longton, “right in the heart of Cairo. The land has been acquired and the architect commissioned. Pountney showed me an early sketch of the hotel. Took my breath away. It’s going to be a veritable palace.”

“Isn’t the finance being raised from Egyptian sources?” said Dillman.

“Yes, but Pountney has a close link with them because of his other business interests there. He’s a man with his finger on the pulse, I can tell you. Joy to meet him. And since I’ve also met the author of
Treasures of Ancient Egypt
,” he added, “this trip is turning out to be the voyage of a lifetime for me.”

Goss smiled modestly. “It’s good to know that
someone
has read my work.”

“Polly and I have read it,” Rebecca said loyally.

“I tried to,” admitted Polly, “but I couldn’t understand most of it.”

“All will become clear when you get to Egypt,” said Longton. “And that flute of yours will come in useful, young lady. You can make some money as a snake charmer.”

Polly shook with mirth and the rest of them joined in the laughter. Sir Alistair had made a favorable impact on the Goss family and they were sorry when he rose from the table and announced that he was meeting a friend over a postprandial cigar in the smoke room. Dillman made sure that he walked to the exit beside Longton.

“How sound an investment is this hotel, Sir Alistair?” he wondered.

“Sound as a bell. Pountney is going out to double-check but he has no doubts about its potential. We could stand to make a mint out of it. Why do you ask?” he said, one eye glinting through the monocle. “Are you the sort of man who’s ready to risk a bit of capital?”

“Not really.”

“If you were, I’d advise you to keep your money to yourself. Ordinarily, that is.”

“ ‘Ordinarily,’ Sir Alistair?”

“Yes, old chap,” said the other. “If someone came up to me on a ship and said he had this brilliant scheme in the offing, I’d know, nine times out of ten, that I was talking to a confidence trickster. Not in this case.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely certain, Mr. Dillman. Roland Pountney is the exception to the rule. He’s not pushing this project at anyone. He’s simply doing them a favor by letting them get a slice of the cake. Don’t worry,” he continued, “I checked him out very carefully before I allowed myself to get interested. Pountney is as genuine as they come. Right school, right university, belongs to all the right clubs.”

“I’m pleased to hear that you believe your money will be in safe hands.”

“It will be,” said Longton. “And the beauty of it is that, when it’s built, I’ll be able to stay at the hotel at a discount. I’ll be popping to and from Cairo all the time. No, Mr. Dillman,” he declared, “Roland Pountney is not a crook, I assure you. This is a P and O vessel. There are no criminals aboard the
Marmora
.”