The Blind Barber

10 — Dramatis Personae

After the captain had ordered porridge and the table steward had gone, a rather nervous Warren put down his coffee-cup.

'Knows who the criminal is? He's not getting any funny ideas, is he? About us, I mean?'

Chuckling, Valvick made a broad gesture. 'Coroosh, no! Not at all. Dat ain't it. Ay dunno yust what it is, but he send Sparks to my cabin to say we all got to come up after mess. Sparks say de captain get a wireless message, but he will not tell me what iss in it until we see old Barnacle.'

'I wonder,' said Morgan.

'So dat remind, and ay say to Sparks — iss de wireless-operator; all de wireless-operators iss Sparkses, you see— ay say, 'Sparks, you wass on duty yesterday afternoon, eh?' And he say, 'Yes.' And den ay say, 'Sparks, do you remember when de old man receive dat first message about de crook, and hass a row wit' you? Wass dere some odder people in de cabin wit' you at de time?' When he says yes, den ay describe dat girl we find cracked on de head last night, and ay say, 'Sparks, was she dere?' (All Sparkses is hawful wit' de ladies, so ay know he remember her if she wass.) Halso, if she send or receive a message, he iss going to know her name, eh?'

'Neat!' said Warren. 'Swell! Who was she?'

'Ahhhh, dass de trouble. He remember her, but he dunno. Dere was several people, and halso a cousin of Sparks which is travelling as a passenger. She came in, and see dere is people in a waiting-line, so he guess she don't want to wait and she turn round and go out; he say she hass got 'ands full of papers. No matter! We find out when we know who iss missing. Now is de part I want to tell you…'

The porridge had arrived. Captain Valvick emptied the creamjug over it, bent his vast shoulders, adjusted his elbows in a wing-like spread, and spoke between excavations.

'Well, we get to talking, you see, and ay give him a drink of Old Rob Roy, and he say, 'Coroosh! Captain, but my cousin Alick could haff use dis whisky last night.' Den he tell me his cousin Alick hass suffered somet'ing hawful with de yumping toothache, and de doctor hass give him somet'ing to put on it, but it don't do no good. And ay say, 'So-ho?' ay say, 'den he should haff come to me, for ay know somet'ing dat cure him bing-bing.' It iss composed —'

'Not to interrupt you, Skipper,' said Morgan, who was keeping a wary eye out for a signal from Peggy at the Perrigords' table, 'but are you sure this is strictly—'

'Ay am sure, you bet!' returned the other, with snorting excitement. 'Listen. He say, 'Den ay wish you would go see him,' Sparks say; 'he iss only round in C 47… ' ' 'Sorry,' said Morgan, and jerked his head back. 'C 47, eh? Well?'

'So we go to C 47, which iss in de gangway just hopposite Dr. Kyle's. Eh? And hiss cousin is walking round in circles with de 'ot-water-bag, and sometimes he go and bump his head on de bulkhead, and say, 'Coroosh! ay wish ay wass dead,' and ay pity de poor fallar hawful. So ay write out what he hass to get at doctor's, and send Sparks for it. In fife minutes dat pain go, and de poor fallar can't believe it, and he got tears in his eyes when he t'ank me. Oh, ay forgot to tell you he iss a prizefighter which is called de Bermondsey Terror. He hask me if dere is somet'ing he can do for me. Ay say no, and ay give him a drink of Old Rob Roy, but ay got a hidea yust de same.' With a massive finger the captain tapped the table. 'Like diss. In de night ay am t'inking to myself, and all of a sudden ay yump up in my bunk, and t'ink, 'Coroosh! Maybe de doctor and de odders iss honest people, but suppose diss crook sneak into de cabin where Miss Glenn t'row dat hemerald?…''

Morgan nodded. The old skipper was no fool. It took some time for his clicking mind to mesh its wheels, but he arrived. This idea, bringing new implications to worry Warren, caused a silence to fall on the table.

'You don't mean' — Warren gulped—'you don't mean—?'

'Oh! no! But ay t'ank ay better ask de Bermondsey Terror. Ay say, 'You wass up all night wit' de toothache?' He say yes. Ay say, 'Did you hear any yumps and yitters out on de deck?' He say, 'Yes, ay t'ank ay hear a woman say, 'Sock him again,' but ay feel too bad to go see what it iss; besides,' he say, 'ay haf de port closed so ay don't catch cold in de yaw, and can't hear much, but,' he say, 'it iss close in de cabin, and ay haff de door fastened open.' Dat is de way wit de lime-yuicers. Dey iss hell on cold air. Ay wass in yail once in Boston wit' a lime-yuicer, and all he do all de time iss to squawk about dat yail because it hass got steam heat… '

'And the Bermondsey Terror,' said Morgan, 'was up all night, and could see Kyle's door?'

'Dat iss right,' agreed the captain. 'And he swear nobody go down dere all night. So ay got somet'ing off my mind.' He heaved a wheezy sigh.

Observing that Warren was about to construe this into further proof of Kyle's guilt, Morgan said, hastily: 'You've accomplished lots of work before breakfast, Captain. Was there anything else? What's this you say about Woodcock knowing something?'

'Ah! Yes, yes. Ay almost forget!' The captain gave a mighty flip of his spoon. 'But ay dunno yust what to make of it. Dat Woodcock iss a funny fallar, you bet. Efery time he talk business, he try to use de subtlety and den ay dunno what he iss talking about. But he say it iss a business proposition. He say he want to speak to Mr. Warren, and he got a deal to make if Mr. Warren will talk turkey. First, he knows what happen last night…'

'I'll bet he does,' said Warren, grimly. 'What's his version?'

'No, no, no! Dat iss de funny part. Ay t'ank he know most of it for sure, all except about de girl.'

Warren seized the edge of the table. 'You don't mean he knows about Uncle Warpus or that film?'

'Well, he knows somet'ing about a film, ay tell you dat. He iss a smart man. What all he know ay dunno, but he sort of hint he know plenty about diss crook.' Valvick stroked his moustache, scowling. 'You better talk to him. De point iss diss. He has invented something. It iss a bug-powder gun wit' a helectric light.'

'A bug-powder gun with an electric light?' repeated Morgan, rather wildly. He dismissed the idea that this might be some singular kind of nautical metaphor. 'What the hell is a bug-powder gun with an electric light? This strain is gradually sapping my mental powers. I'm going mad, I tell you. Skipper, haven't we got enough on our minds without you babbling about bug-powder guns and electric lights?'

'Ay am not babbling!' said the captain, with some heat. 'Dat is yust what he tell me. Ay dunno how it vurk, but it iss somet'ing you use to kill de mosquitoes in de dark. He say it will refolutionise de bug-killing profession, and he iss going to call it de Mermaid. He say it can also be used on bedbugs, cockroaches, earwigs, caterpillars, red ants, horseflies… '

'I have no doubt,' said Morgan, 'that it will enable a good shot to bring down a cockroach at sixty yards. But get back to the subject. Whether or not it has something to do with us, we have more immediate concerns. Dr. Kyle, skipper, did not find the emerald in his cabin this morning. Thanks to you and the Bermondsey Terror, we've proved that the Blind Barber didn't get in to pinch it, either… That leaves the Perrigords. It's got to be the Perrigords. They're our last hope. Of course the Perrigords have got it! That's why Peggy is staying so long over there. _…'

Warren tapped his arm.

'She's giving us the high sign now,' he said, in a low voice. 'Don't turn round too obviously now, but have a look. No, wait a minute. It's no secret stuff. She wants us to come over to the table.'

'De odder people haff got de emerald?' inquired Valvick, peering over his shoulder. 'Haa! Den dat iss all right. Ay tell you ay wass worried.'

'Lord! I hope so,' said Morgan, fervently. 'But Peggy doesn't look too pleased. Finish your breakfast, Skipper, and then join us. Get ready, Curt. Did you finish that article?'

'Sure I did,' retorted Warren. He spoke out of the corner of his mouth as they moved out across the dance floor towards the other table. 'And don't go making any cracks about my education either. I can tell you all about it. It seems Peggy's uncle is the goods. As a classic dramatist he is an eight-cyclindered wow, and there's been nobody like him since Moliere. If any impertinent criticism of his jewelled lines can be made by one, one would say a certain je ne sais quoi. I should possibly suggest the introduction of certain deft touches of realism into the speech of, say, so human and breathing a figure as the Knight Roland or the crafty Banhambra, Sultan of the Moors which would lend an element of graphic power….'

'An element,' said the loud, concise voice of Mr. Leslie Perrigord in the flesh, 'of graphic power. And that is all.'