The Unsuspected

fire?'

'No,' she said. 'I couldn't see anything.'

'No smoke? No flames?'

'It must have been at the other side of the ship,' she said in her clear, gentle voice.

'Were the passengers scared? Any panic?'

'Not that I saw,' she answered. Better leave out about Doctor Phillips, praying so loud, arguing with the Lord under the stars. And how surprised he was when his prayer was so promptly and practically answered. He'd even, she remembered, seemed a little

disappointed and thwarted, as if he d had a lot of prayer in him yet, O Lord. 'We were picked up in only two hours ' she said.

'Who was in your lifeboat?'

'There were twelve of us passengers, and three crew members.'

'Was it cold? Was the weather bad? Did you suffer?'

'It was quite warm,' said Mathilda. 'It was a lovely night.'

One of the newsmen was a little redheaded fellow, a fidgeter. 'O.K., so you got picked up.'

'The S.S. Blayne,' said one of them. Somebody sighed impatiently.

'How come they took you all the way to Africa?'

'I don't know,' said Mathilda. Never guess when you don't know.

'Did you realize that no message came through from you?'

'We couldn't be sure' she said a little too quickly. Be careful. Don't say too much. She went on more slowly, with a little frown, as if she were taking pains. 'Of course we tried. But they wouldn't use the ship's radio. And the port where we were taken was quite con-

fused.'

She looked straight at the female one. They would have no way to guess how she'd felt about it, how she hadn't really made much of an effort to get a message through. Mathilda knew now that it had been childish, that mood of not trying, that babyish, rebellious

thought. Let him think I died. Then he'll he sorry. Her heart bounced, as it always did with the thought of Oliver or even at a hint that she was about to think of him. Push it down.

'What happened there?' somebody was asking.

'At the African port, you mean? Why, just waiting, really. You see, although we had to wait so long for a returning ship, we never knew but what we might be sailing the next morning. So we were busy waiting.' Watch it. Don't be colorful.

'Where did you stay?'

'At a very nice little hotel.' She saw it vividly—more vividly, almost, than she could see anything else in her memory. It was brilliant in the sun, that terrible aching sunlight that had poured over everything. And she could smell it. But she mustn't say so. Nor must

she give them any hint of the brooding pain that filled all her days there under that brutal sun, the headache and the heartache all mingled together.

'But what did you do with yourselves?'

'Do?' she repeated slowly. Take your time.

'Yes, while you waited.'

'We tried to be patient/' she said gently. 'Sometimes we played cards. There wasn't much to read.'

Their faces were getting bleaker and bleaker. She knew they wanted adventure. And yet, she thought, honestly there hadn't been anything adventurous. Or if there had, she hadn't recognized it. Maybe someday, when she was old and looked back, details such is flies and headaches would have faded out; maybe it would look like an adventure then.

'Weren't there any interesting people?' asked the one who was a girl.

'Very nice people,' said Mathilda primly. 'There was Doctor Phillips and his wife. He is a clergyman. There were Mr. and Mrs. Stevens—'

'No men?'

'Oh, yes.'

'Young men?'

'N-no,' said Mathilda. 'At least not younger than about forty.' Mr. Boyleston had been forty. He had only one eye, but better not say so.

'No natives?'

'Of course there were natives' said Mathilda. 'Although we didn't see very much of them.'

Something eager was dying out of their faces. They were giving her up. All except the red-haired man, who still watched her face as if he were searching for signs.

'But finally you got a ship, huh?'

'Yes, finally we did' she said brightly. 'It took us to Buenos Aires.'

'That message gave the whole country a thrill. In fact, you made Page One.'

Mathilda smiled politely and moistened her lips. Was it thrilling to Oliver? she wondered with the familiar sickening lurch of her heart.

'There was a chance to fly to Bermuda, and I took it,' she said, 'because I have a house there and people knew me.' She glanced down at her suit. Better not go into the ragged crew they'd been.

'Did you have any money, Miss Frazier?'

'People were very kind,' she said evasively. She kept smiling. Don't boast. Better not let them know that the mere rumor of her wealth had inspired enough kindness to bring them home.

'What do you plan to do now?'

'I must get home,' she said. Was Oliver there? Was Althea there? Mustn't ask.

'To Dedham, you mean, of course? To Mr. Grandison s house? He broadcast a piece about you,' said the female one chattily.

''Tyl, dear, wherever you may be—' He had me bawling.'

Mathilda's eyes stung. Don't give them an emotion, even a good one. She swallowed.

'I'll bet you're glad to be back,' said the red-haired man, not perfunctorily, but as if he alone knew why.

'Yes, I am. Very glad indeed.' Her green eyes met his steadily. You can end any interview after a decent passage of time.

'It must have been quite an adventure,' said the female one a little flatly, as if she doubted it.

'Yes,' said Mathilda. 'I really think that's about all I can tell you. If you'll excuse me. Thank you for being so kind.” Always thank them.

'Well, thank you.' “Thanks a lot.' They were through with her. They made as if to withdraw, all but the red-haired man, who drew closer.

'Why are you using your maiden name?' he said in a low, conversational tone.

Mathilda caught hold of her surprise and alarm and controlled it. Just her lashes flickered. 'I beg your pardon?' she murmured. She took a step away. She was afraid, if he got too close, the emotional tension she was hiding so carefully would be palpable, like a

magnetic field.

'He's waiting for you on the pier,' said the red-haired man.

'Who?' She hadn't meant to ask. Mustn't get involved. This was the press. Never converse. Recite.

“Your husband,' said the red-haired man.

Mathilda didn't move, didn't say anything. It took all her training to stand so still. The thought of Oliver broke through and flooded her whole mind. Could it be Oliver who was waiting at the pier?

By some miracle, restored to her? As if Althea had never so easily, so almost lazily, reached out and taken him away? Her heart pounded.

'All I'm asking is: Do you confirm it or deny?' said the red-haired man in a rapid mutter. 'How about it, Mrs. Howard? Can I take that blush —'

Mathilda said, 'If you'll excuse me, please.' She looked full at him, although she couldn't see his face. She could feel her lips mechanically smiling.

'What goes on?' said the female one, abruptly popping up beside them.

The red-haired man was sending Mathilda a hurt, reproachful look, but she didn't see it. She said again, still smiling, 'Won't you please excuse me now?'

'O.K.' said the red-haired man. 'O.K.' But he said it as if he were saying, 'All right for you.'

Mathilda went and sat quietly in a corner of the deck. 'Such a nice, quiet girl,' Mrs. Stevens had told the reporters. 'Such a little lady. Why, not the least bit conscious of all that money. We have become very close friends,' said Mrs. Stevens, with plenty of con-

sciousness of all that money.

So the Stevenses came and fluttered around her, all talking at once, promising to look her up, never to forget her, begging her to promise them the same. Mathilda kept promising.

But the whole thing was back now in full force. Just as strong as if she'd never been shipwrecked and carried away to Africa, half the world away. She could see, bitterly, Oliver's face as it had been two days before their wedding day, when he had come in and been so strangely silent. She had babbled innocently along, happily, naively, all unwarned, unprepared, about who had sent what present, about such silly little things. And at last, when she'd stopped the chatter, puzzled, he'd said, “Tyl, are you happy?' And she'd been