Max went to his own stateroom. Pausing in the doorway, he said to Fang, “I want to change, too. So you take the first watch.”
“Rorff!”
“Don’t be difficult!” Max snapped. “That’s utterly ridiculous! What could you change to?”
Fang growled peevishly. But then he accepted his fate and stretched out in the corridor.
“You might as well make your peace with the fact,” Max said sympathetically. “You’re a dog, and you’re going to live a dog’s life.”
Then he closed the door.
A half-hour after the ‘welcome aboard’ party for the scientists was scheduled to begin, Max, 99 and Fang began the slow and laborious climb from C Deck to A Deck. They had decided to arrive late so that, in the crowd, they would not be especially noticed.
“When you’re working undercover, it’s always best not to be the first one to arrive at a party,” Max explained. “If you are, the host or hostess feels compelled to introduce you to every blessed soul who arrives after you. And, after a while, after remembering all those names, he or she gets a little groggy. And he or she is just liable to introduce you as Secret Agent such-and-such. There is nothing that will uncover an undercover as quickly as that!”
“But that couldn’t happen to us,” 99 said. “Nobody on board knows that we’re secret agents.”
“And let’s keep it that way,” Max said. “That’s why it’s important that we arrive late at the party. You see, when you’re working undercover- Oh, I explained that, didn’t I?”
However, when they reached the lounge where the party was to be held, they found it vacant, except for one young man in a ship’s uniform who was standing at the doorway. The young man welcomed them exuberantly.
“Where are the others?” Max asked.
“Oh, it’s too early,” the young man replied. “The party was only scheduled to begin forty-five minutes ago. No one wants to be the one to arrive first at a party, you know. So, it will be at least another half-hour before the others begin to arrive. But you’re here-so we can start.”
“Actually,” Max said, “we’re not here. We were just passing by, on our way to take a half-hour stroll on deck.” He motioned to 99 and Fang. “Come along. We’re a bit early for the party.”
“But you’re not early, you’re late,” the young man protested.
“Late, yes-but early late,” Max corrected. “We’ll come back when we can be late late like everyone else.”
They walked out onto the deck. The liner was moving smoothly through the water, and the Manhattan skyline could be clearly seen in the near distance.
“Isn’t it beautiful, Max?” 99 said, peering at the skyline.
“Yes, but I wouldn’t care to sit on it,” Max replied. “Not with all those spires sticking up.”
“Instead, let’s sit in the deck chairs,” 99 suggested. “I’m a little pooped after that climb from C Deck.”
“Excellent idea. And we can keep an eye out for the diabolical Dr. X.”
Max, 99 and Fang each settled in a deck chair. But the instant they were seated, a steward appeared. “Dogs aren’t allowed in the deck chairs,” he said.
“This doesn’t happen to be your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, everyday pooch,” Max replied. “He has a ticket, so I think he’s entitled to occupy a deck chair.”
“The rule is: No Dogs in Chairs,” the steward insisted.
“Not even a secret agent dog?” Max snapped.
The steward peered at Fang. “That overgrown woolly worm is a secret agent? I can hardly believe that!”
Max looked thoughtful for a second, then said, “Would you believe that he’s a typist in the steno pool for the F.B.I.?”
The steward shook his head. “Hardly.”
“Then how about this?” Max said. “Would you believe that he once shed his hair on the couch in the outer office of the Director of the C.I.A.?”
“That, I’d believe,” the steward said. “That’s why he can’t sit in that chair. We don’t want him shedding his coat all over it. Out.”
Max turned to Fang. “You heard the man. Out!”
Fang jumped out of the chair. “Rorff!” he barked.
“He’s right,” Max said to the steward. “When J. Edgar Hoover hears about this, you are in hot water!”
The steward rolled his eyes heavenward, then walked off.
“Max, we’re not accomplishing anything here,” 99 said. “Let’s see if the party has started yet.”
“Just what I was going to suggest,” Max replied.
They returned to the lounge. Approaching it, they heard sounds of laughter and happy-talk.
“The party has started, all right,” Max said. “It sounds as if we’re just in time-the last ones to arrive.”
“Max, since we don’t know what Dr. X looks like, what shall we look for?” 99 said.
“Well… we know that he has disguised himself. And, what is the first thing a man does when he wants to hide his true identity? He puts on a false beard.”
“I see. So we look for a scientist with a false beard.”
“You phrase that very well, 99.”
They reached the entrance to the lounge-and halted. The room was chock-a-block with happy, smiling scientists. They were toasting each other, babbling away in scientific jargon, laughing and joking-all in all, having a thoroughly enjoyable time of it.
“Max…” 99 said thinly.
“Yes?”
“Do you notice something?”
“Yes. It’s very odd, isn’t it?”
“It certainly is,” 99 agreed.
“This is undoubtedly the first time I’ve ever seen a man drinking a milk shake with an olive in it,” Max said.
“An olive? Where?”
“Over there-the fellow with the beard.”
“Oh… yes. But, Max, that wasn’t what I meant. What I meant was-they’re all wearing beards!”
Max glanced around. “99, I think you’re right.”
“What do you mean, you think I’m right. They’re all wearing beards!”
“Let me put that another way: 99, you’re right.”
99 sighed. “It isn’t much help, is it?”
“Well, it does make our project a little more difficult,” Max replied. “But not impossible. One of those beards is a false beard. What we have to do is find it.”
“How? Pull every beard in the room? And suppose the diabolical Dr. X isn’t wearing a false beard? If all these other scientists are wearing real beards, maybe he is, too.”
Max scowled. “99, I think this calls for a change in tactics. Let’s assume that the real Dr. X, being a scientist, does wear a beard. Now, if you were in his shoes, and wanted to disguise yourself, what would you do?”
“Go barefoot?”
“Let’s stick to beards. If you had a beard and wanted to disguise yourself, what would you do?”
“Oh, I see. I’d shave it off.”
“Exactly. So what we’re looking for is a clean-shaven scientist.”
99 looked around again. “I don’t see any clean-shaven scientists.”
“Mark my word, 99. The diabolical Dr. X is here, and he is clean-shaven. Now, all we have to do is find him. And, to do that, all we have to do is mingle. Sooner or later, we’ll come across a clean-shaven scientist.” He motioned to 99 and Fang. “Let’s mingle.”
“Rorff!” Fang barked.
“I know, I know,” Max said. “I’m as bored by these parties as you are. Just don’t join in the conversation if it pains you so much. No one will expect you to have opinions, anyway.”
Max, followed by 99 and Fang, sidled up to two scientists who were in jolly conversation.
