'No,' I said, 'I didn't.'
'I'm sorry for interrupting you.'
'That's all right,' I said. 'I couldn't sleep. I thought a wash would do me good.' It sounded rather as though it were a thing I never had as a general rule.
'I'm so sorry, miss,' said the stewardess again. 'But there's a gentleman about who's rather drunk and we are afraid he might get into one of the ladies' cabins and frighten them.'
'How dreadful!' I said, looking alarmed. 'He won't come in here, will he?'
'Oh, I don't think so, miss. Ring the bell if he does. Good night.'
'Good night.'
I opened the door and peeped down the corridor. Except for the retreating form of the stewardess, there was nobody in sight.
Drunk! So that was the explanation of it. My histrionic talents had been wasted. I pulled the cabin trunk out a little farther and said:
'Come out at once, please,' in an acid voice.
There was no answer. I peered under the bunk. My visitor lay immovable. He seemed to be asleep. I tugged at his shoulder. He did not move.
'Dead drunk,' I thought vexedly. 'What am I to do?'
Then I saw something that made me catch my breath, a small scarlet spot on the floor.
Using all my strength, I succeeded in dragging the man out into the middle of the cabin. The dead whiteness of his face showed that he had fainted. I found the cause of his fainting easily enough. He had been stabbed under the left shoulder-blade — a nasty deep wound. I got his coat off and set to work to attend to it.
At the sting of the cold water he stirred, then sat up. 'Keep still, please,' I said.
He was the kind of young man who recovers his faculties very quickly. He pulled himself to his feet and stood there swaying a little.
'Thank you; I don't need anything done for me.'
His manner was defiant, almost aggressive. Not a word of thanks — of even common gratitude!
'That is a nasty wound. You must let me dress it.'
'You will do nothing of the kind.'
He flung the words in my face as though I had been begging a favour of him. My temper, never placid, rose.
'I cannot congratulate you upon your manners,' I said coldly.
'I can at least relieve you of my presence.' He started for the door, but reeled as he did so. With an abrupt movement I pushed him down upon the sofa.
'Don't be a fool,' I said unceremoniously. 'You don't want to go bleeding all over the ship, do you?'
He seemed to see the sense of that, for he sat quietly whilst I bandaged up the wound as best I could.
'There,' I said, bestowing a pat on my handiwork, 'that will have to do for the present. Are you better- tempered now and do you feel inclined to tell me what it's all about?'
'I'm sorry that I can't satisfy your very natural curiosity.'
'Why not?' I said, chagrined. He smiled nastily.
'If you want a thing broadcast, tell a woman. Otherwise keep your mouth shut.'
'Don't you think I could keep a secret?'
'I don't think –1 know.'
He rose to his feet.
'At any rate,' I said spitefully, 'I shall be able to do a little broadcasting about the events of this evening.'
'I've no doubt you will too,' he said indifferently. 'How dare you!' I cried angrily.
We were facing each other, glaring at each other with the ferocity of bitter enemies. For the first time, I took in the details of his appearance, the close-cropped dark head, the lean jaw, the scar on the brown cheek, the curious light grey eyes that looked into mine with a sort of reckless mockery hard to describe. There was something dangerous about him.
'You haven't thanked me yet for saving your life!' I said with false sweetness.
I hit him there. I saw him flinch distinctly. Intuitively I knew that he hated above all to be reminded that he owed his life to me. I didn't care. I wanted to hurt him. I had never wanted to hurt anyone so much.
'I wish to God you hadn't!' he said explosively. 'I'd be better dead and out of it.'
'I'm glad you acknowledge the debt. You can't get out of it. I saved your life and I'm waiting for you to say 'Thank you'.'
If looks could have killed, I think he would have liked to kill me then. He pushed roughly past me. At the door he turned back, and spoke over his shoulder.
'I shall not thank you — now or at any other time. But I acknowledge the debt. Some day I will pay it.'
He was gone, leaving me with clenched hands, and my heart beating like a mill race.
Chapter 11
There were no further excitements that night. I had breakfast in bed and got up late the next morning. Mrs. Blair hailed me as I came on deck.
'Good morning, gipsy girl. Sit down here by me. You look as though you hadn't slept well.'
'Why do you call me that?' I asked, as I sat down obediently.
'Do you mind? It suits you somehow. I've called you that in my own mind from the beginning. It's the gipsy element in you that makes you so different from anyone else. I decided in my own mind that you and Colonel Race were the only two people on board who wouldn't bore me to death to talk to.'
'That's funny,' I said. 'I thought the same about you — only it's more understandable in your case. You're — you're such an exquisitely finished product.'
'Not badly put,' said Mrs. Blair, nodding her head. 'Tell me all about yourself, gipsy girl. Why are you going to South Africa ?'
I told her something about Papa's lifework.
'So you're Charles Beddingfield's daughter? I thought you weren't a mere provincial miss! Are you going to Broken Hill to grub up more skulls?'
'I may,' I said cautiously. 'I've got other plans as well.'
'What a mysterious minx you are. But you do look tired this morning. Didn't you sleep well? I can't keep awake on board a boat. Ten hours' sleep for a fool, they say! I could do with twenty!'
She yawned, looking like a sleepy kitten. 'An idiot of a steward woke me up in the middle of the night to return me that roll of films I dropped yesterday. He did it in the most melodramatic manner, stuck his arm through the ventilator and dropped them neatly in the middle of my tummy. I thought it was a bomb for a moment!'
'Here's your Colonel,' I said, as the tall soldierly figure of Colonel Race appeared on the deck.
'He's not my Colonel particularly. In fact he admires you very much, gipsy girl. So don't run away.'
'I want to tie something round my head. It will be more comfortable than a hat.'
I slipped quickly away. For some reason or other I was uncomfortable with Colonel Race. He was one of the few people who were capable of making me feel shy.
I went down to my cabin and began looking for something with which I could restrain my rebellious locks. Now I am a tidy person, I like my things always arranged in a certain way and I keep them so. I had no sooner opened my drawer than I realized that somebody had been disarranging my things. Everything had been turned over and scattered. I looked in the other drawers and the small hanging cupboard. They told the same tale. It was as though someone had been making a hurried and ineffectual search for something.
I sat down on the edge of the bunk with a grave face. Who had been searching my cabin and what had they been looking for? Was it the half-sheet of paper with scribbled figures and words? I shook my head, dissatisfied. Surely that was past history now. But what else could there be?
I wanted to think. The events of last night, though exciting, had not really done anything to elucidate
