The Complete Simon Iff (53 page)

"You will observe, moreover, that the message came from the port we have just left. One cannot imagine the message as meaning much more than that his enemy is in Durban. He has plenty of time to take precautions, one would think. But would one, if one thinks more deeply? From his anxiety to speak, to get something done, as Mr. Eliot here reports, one could seem to suspect some danger imminent. It suggests that the captain is inextricably in the toils. This radiogram reads 'malice and revenge triumphant'. The man in Durban, rightly or wrongly, is sure that he has turned the trick, and cannot refrain from torturing his enemy with anticipation of disaster. But then again, what does the message say? We have eliminated the theory of collusion. It means this: There is a man who hates McVea. McVea knows this man and fears him. There is a passage in their lives when these particular words possessed so fearful a significance that their mere quotation is sufficient to identify the sender to McVea. What then is the information conveyed? McVea must have thought that he was dead or in prison. On on other hypothesis can we explain the shock. If he had been in prison, the captain would have been able to calculate when he would be at liberty; unless he had broken prison, which doesn't happen as often as one might suppose from reading story books. Besides, if he had broken prison, McVea's course would have been quite simple; a wireless to the Durban police, describing the man, would stop his game. I think that we must conclude that the captain supposed him to be dead.

"You have all heard of the professor who could reconstruct an extinct animal from a single bone, and you may think that these deductions are rather tenuous; but, after all, the professor used to be right. We are then encouraged to go on a little more deeply into the significance of this message. Its sender is no ordinary man. He is a person big enough to make McVea afraid of him, and McVea is no chicken. We have a man of great intelligence. This impression is confirmed by the subtle simplicity of his method of declaring himself. Imagine him in Durban composing his message. He says to himself 'I have a thousand ways of letting that swine know that I'm alive and on the job: how shall I put it so as to fix my fangs most deeply?' He decides to use nothing but this terrible allusion, these words which were a climax in the past. We have no means of knowing what these events were save that they must have been such that the formula was burnt deeply into the captain's brain.

"One step further. We know that criminals, otherwise astute, often give themselves away through vanity, as in the case of the Gunpowder Plot--a weakness to warn some friend discloses a conspiracy; or, for one reason or another, the mischiefmaker wants his victim to know what is going to happen to him, and who is behind it. But would a man of such subtlety as we have deduced share in such a weakness? How could he be absolutely certain that his blow would go home? He is apparently giving his victim every chance to take precautions. This consideration leads us to wonder whether the man is in durban after all. He might have an accomplice on this ship. But would not that rather be inviting McVea to look around for an accomplice? Also, I don't particularly see this man trusting other people. One can have associations of people who are technically criminals, if they are banded together for what they deem a cause more sacred than law; but the real criminal is a lone wolf.

"I do not think this idea of an accomplice is in character. Suppose that he has bribed someone on this ship to kill the captain, his warning risks his success. It seems to me much more likely that he should leave a false trail. Nothing easier or less suspicious than to leave his message with a friend, an office boy, for the matter of that, with instructions to dispatch it at a certain time. This would both frighten McVea, and put him off his guard. The first place that McVea would by no means look for him would be on board the boat. The idea naturally crossed my mind that this chap might be an anarchist who had planted an infernal machine on the boat, and timed it to explode shortly after the captain got the message."

The company, who up til now, had been partly interested and partly bored by this elaborate gossamer of thought, began to feel extremely uncomfortable. Iff hastened to reassure them.

"I am not very much afraid of this," he said, "because the explosion has not yet happened. He could not have foreseen the apoplexy, and obviously McVea's first act would have been to report all particulars to Durban. Besides, this man isn't an anarchist. Anarchists are earnest, Godfearing people with no sense of humour, and we have already decided that this chap is an intellectual and malicious as Goethe's conception of the devil. We have now established a very strong probability that he is on this boat. Question is 'Where?'"

"We can eliminate the crew and the steerage," said Lord Juventius Mellor, "they are all good chaps. All the intellectual people are in the Second Class, and all the malicious ones in the First."

"This is not a joke," said Simon severely. "The conclusion of your argument would be that no maliciously intellectual person could travel by sea at all. But I think that we should look for him in the saloon. He would have the run of the boat, and so easier access to the captain. Besides this, he would be less severely scrutinized. We must remark, however, that in coming aboard at all, he exposes himself to the risk of recognition by the captain. His personality and appearance must be branded deeply on our friend's mind, else how could so simple a message produce so tragic a result? We are therefore certain that he regards his disguise as impenetrable. It has already appeared that the allusion in the message must be to something in the past. This makes it look as though that past were somewhat remote. But we cannot content ourselves with this. We all know how, on meeting a man, perhaps hardly more than a casual acquaintance whom one has not seen for more than twenty years, there is, if not an immediate recognition, a puzzled feeling: 'I know that face; I've seen that man somewhere.' Sea captains, with their keen eyes, don't miss much; certainly not a man like McVea, who has always been particularly smart in dealing with men. Is there anyone among the passengers who was changed so as to be utterly unrecognizable? The marks of such a change would be evident. They would amount to total disfigurement. In other words, we have arrived at a complete impossibility. 

"It seems as if we were thrown back upon the idea of an accomplice--a person unknown to the captain--but we have already seen serious objections to this suggestion. The way out leads us into yet more formidable darkness. This message becomes more terrible yet, if we suppose it to be sent by a person absolutely convinced that he is safe. Perhaps that person is dead after all, or at least neither in Durban, where the police could deal with him, nor on the ship, where we could deal with him. I seem to have come to the idea of a legacy of vengeance. We have the painful incident connected with the wording of the message. We see that the man concerned is dead or perhaps in prison, but he has arranged for somebody to execute his mission of revenge. This somebody is taking a long chance. We are not living in the days of the Venetian Oligarchy. Men do not execute the vengeance of others, unless they are passionately moved by love for the wronged person, or incited by the hope of gain. It is possible that a man could command wealth from a grave or a jail, and through his hireling would be unlikely to think of the device of the radiogram, the sending of it might have been stipulated. But one could hardly arrange for this in a will, and if the original man is in jail, why should he trust his accomplice so deeply? The man would have every inducement and opportunity to doublecross him. Number 2 must therefore be honestly devoted to Number 1. Here is another impossibility. We have a satanically intellectual person risking his life, in all probability, to commit a crime with a motive of sublime love and self-abnegation! From this we arrive at the conclusion that whatever Number 1 thinks or thought, Number 2 believes that Number 1 has been infamously wronged by Captain McVea. We know something else about Number 2--he is quite young; an older man does not act in so quixotic a fashion on behalf of another. We cannot suppose him to have been on the job for very long. This ship is the best known of all the common objects of this part of the sea shore. Where would be no object in delaying to throw a scare into the captain. Now, how far have we got?

"We have a very young, enthusiastic person, with a passionate love of an apparently wronged person, and an almost insanely chivalrous attitude. But of course you will object that we have here another impossibility. I have spoke of an infamous wrong--nothing less would justify the action even of Number 1, still less of Number 2. Now since the radiogram had to be intelligible to the captain, he must know well what that wrong was, and he must fear revenge. But on the other hand, we who know him know, that he is not at all the man to wrong anyone, even in the most trifling manner. Whatever the events were that are associated, in the minds of these people, with the words of the radiogram, we are bound to think that McVea's share in them was justified in his own eyes, and misinterpreted by Number 1. The captain, however, certainly knew that Number 1 had so misinterpreted that action, but he was unable to clear the mater up because the man was either dead, or thought by him to be so. I have made these remarks in public, not without apprehension that I may have bordered on indiscretion; but, generally speaking, it is safe to look for truth. And the conclusion has justified me. When I saw how my analysis was turning, I began to hope that Number 2 might be within hearing of my voice--he would want to be where he could watch the effect of the receipt of the radiogram. And in this sheltered portion of the deck we are not visible by anyone outside our little circle of a dozen persons. I will therefore ask Number 2 to talk to me privately before he proceeds with what I make no doubt to be his very admirable plan."

The men looked at each other wondering. The younger members of the party became exceedingly self-conscious.

"I think," said Simon Iff, finishing his drink, "that Iwill go and see the captain, while you think it over. Perhaps he may be able to speak by now. Shall we run along and see, Doc?"

He took the surgeon's arm, and they walked away, leaving the crowd in a very curious state of mind.

"I should really tell him," lisped Lord Juventius Mellor. "I know it will save an awful lot of trouble."

Camilla Craig rearranged the pillows under his head, and stole a sly kiss in the shadows.

II

Except in German Universities, it is held to be a decided disadvantage to a theory if it will not work. Nobody replied to simon Iff's advertisement. The matter was quietly dropped. The captain had completely recovered, but it was understood that he did not care even for expressions of sympathy.

"He had recovered his speech, when we got there the other night," said Simon Iff to his pupil, "but all he would say was, that there was no danger to the ship. His silence confirmed my general view. There is something in the past which the captain supposed closed forever; something whose revelation means tragedy for him. I cannot believe that he is to blame, and yet I'm sure that Number 2 at least would acquiesce in Bacon's definition of revenge as 'wild justice'."

"Do you still think that Number 2 is on the ship?" asked the boy.

"The alternative is that he is waiting for us at Colombo, but I think he is on board, and if so, we need not look for violence. I am beginning to think of Number 2 as in some way or other legitimately armed. He does not fear the consequences of his act, whatever act he may have in contemplation. He may be a person absolutely wedded to his fixed idea. His subtlety may be a lunatic's cunning, but I don't think so. McVea knows something of my reputation. If it were possible to avert the fall of the axe, he would have asked me to help him. But he keeps silence--he does his duty like a haunted man. One can see that he is sinking under the anticipation of the blow. It is 'the one thing as certain as death'. That alone makes me certain that Number 2 does not propose to do anything illegal. Even a Camorra cannot carry out every assassination with the punctuality of an omnibus service."

The conversation was interrupted by Camilla Craig, who wanted Lord Juventius to play at the ship's concert and Simon Iff to tell one of his stories.

"I think not," said Simon Iff. "I know better than to challenge a supreme artist in the line which has made her famous through-out the world. What are you going to do, my dear?"

"I think I will try out a dramatic monologue," said the girl. "I haven't told it before--I should like to see how it goes."

"Try it on the dog," said Simon. "You know we are bound to applaud, especially when every cheer means an extra sovereign for the Seamen's Home. I am really very anxious for that concert. Your devotion to Juventius has driven me to Pirate Bridge."

"Well, it's not long till to-morrow night," smiled Camilla, "and twenty-four hours after that you will be eating curry at the Grant Oriental."

"I wish I could do something to help that poor old boy," said Simon, when she had gone. "If he would talk--well, all things are possible--but I am certain that he doesn't deserve what's coming to him. I see only one chance. If I were present when the blow was struck, I might be able to parry it. Who knows--who knows?"

The following night, the saloon of the Urquhart Castle was crowded. by special request, the Second Class passengers had been invited to the concert. The purser was in his glory. Hardly any one noticed how weak and ill the captain was as he sat in his chair on the platform, but people with a little psychology could read him easily; a simple, desperate man, knowing himself doomed, and determined to do his duty to the end. The concert went off more pleasantly than such functions usually do. Every one acquiesced in the general mediocrity, content to wait for the treat in store for them, when Camilla Craig, with her red hair ravishingly emphasized by a frock of rich, soft blue, would do her turn.

"I am going to tell you a story," she began, and her inimitable smile flashed round the crowded saloon. "It is called 'The End of the Voyage'. Once upon a time..."