two-way ocean voyage, was regarded as nothing less than a holiday. An extremely arduous holiday it promised to be from the moment of disembarkation, but nonetheless a holiday. About half the crew were American, few of whom had ever been abroad before, partly from financial considerations, partly because the circus season was so long that they had only three weeks free in the year and this at the wrong time of the year — in the dead of winter: for them, this could be a once in a lifetime experience. The remainder were predominantly European, mainly from the other side of the Iron Curtain, and this was, possibly, also a once in a lifetime experience — that of seeing their native countries and families again.
The second subject concerned the much-maligned activities of Dr Harper and his two temporarily employed trained nurses. Their degree of unpopularity was high. Harper was rigorous to the point of ruthlessness, and when it came to vaccinations and inoculations no one passed through the meshes of the wide net he cast and when any to-be-or-not-to-be questions arose he never gave anyone the benefit of the doubt. Circus people are undoubtedly tougher and fitter than the average run of mankind, but when it came to a profound aversion to injections, scratches and consequent sore arms they were no different from anyone else. But nobody could possibly doubt that they had a genuine and dedicated doctor in their midst. The third concerned two sets of mysterious activities. The first was the patrol that so closely guarded the sleeping quarters on the train during the night. No one seriously believed that threats to lives had been made by parties unknown but, then, they didn’t know what else to believe. Then there was the baffling incident of two alleged electrical engineers who had come to examine the wiring of the train. They had almost finished their task before their authenticity had been questioned and the police called. Unknown to anyone in the circus except Harper, they had been detained in custody for precisely five minutes, which was all the time it took for one of them to phone the admiral and reassure him that none of the sleeping quarters on the train had been bugged.
The last, but unquestionably the most engrossing topic of the lot, concerned Bruno and Maria. To the vexation of Henry, who was engaged in a battle with his conscience, they were not only seen increasingly in each other’s company, but were also seen actively and with no attempt at concealment to seek out each other’s company. The reactions to this particular development were predictably mixed. Some were amused to see Bruno’s hitherto inviolate defences being breached. Others were envious — the men because Bruno had undoubtedly and apparently without effort attached the affections of a girl who politely but pointedly ignored any other approaches made to her, the women because Bruno, by far the most eligible bache lor in the circus, politely but pointedly ignored any approaches made to him. Many more were happy for Bruno, and this despite the fact that apart from Kan Dahn, Manuelo and Roebuck he had no real friends in the circus, because it was common knowledge that since the death of his wife he had been a sad, lonely and withdrawn man who never looked at women. But the majority regarded it as only natural and inevitable that the undisputed star of the circus should come together with a girl who was arguably the most lovely young lady among a plethora of lovely young ladies. It was not until the last performance of their last night in town that Bruno rather diffidently asked her along to see his quarters aboard the train. Maria showed no diffidence in accepting the offer. He guided her stumbling footsteps along the rutted siding track then helped her up the steep steps at the end of a coach.
Bruno had rather splendid and completely enclosed quarters, consisting of a sitting-room, kitchen-cum- dinette, bathroom — with, of all thing, a sunken bath — and bedroom. Maria looked almost dazed as he led her back to the sitting-room. He said: “I’m told I mix what the Americans call a rather mean martini. Only time I ever drink is after I’ve finished a series in a town. Alcohol and the trapeze don’t mix. Will you join me?”
“Please. I must say you do live in style. You should have a wife to share all this.”
Bruno fetched ice. “Is that a proposal?”
“No, it’s not. But all this — just for one man.”
“Mr Wrinfield is very kind to me.”
She said drily: “I don’t think Mr Wrinfield is losing out on the deal. Does anyone else have accommodation like this?”
“I haven’t gone around examining —”
“Bruno!”
“No.”
“Certainly not me. I have a place like a horizontal telephone box. Ah, well, I suppose there’s a vast gap in status between a trainee secretary and you.”
“That’s so.”
“Men! Modesty! I just don’t know!”
“Come with me on the high trapeze. Blindfolded. Then you’ll know.”
She shuddered, not altogether affectedly. “I can’t even stand on a chair without getting vertigo. Truly. You’re welcome to your place. Well, I suppose I can always come along and visit the palace.”
He handed her a drink. “I’ll have a special welcome mat made out for you.”
“Thank you.” She lifted her glass. “To our first time alone. We’re supposed to be falling in love. Any idea how the others think we are doing?”
“I can’t speak for the others. I think I’m doing very well.” He glanced at the compressing lips and said hastily: “I think we’re doing very well. I suppose, as of this moment, that must be the general idea. By this time at least a hundred people must know that you’re here with me. Aren’t you supposed to blush or something?”
“No.”
“It’s a lost art. Well, I don’t suppose you came along just for my dark eyes. You have something to tell me?” “Not really. You asked me, remember?” She smiled.
“Why?”
“Just polishing up our act.” She stopped smiling and put down her glass. He reached forward quickly and touched the back of her hand. “Don’t be a silly goose, Maria.” She looked at him uncertainly, smiled a token smile, and picked up her glass again. “Tell me. What am I supposed to do when we get to Crau — and how am I supposed to do it?” “Only Dr Harper knows, and he’s not ready to talk yet. I should imagine that he’ll tell you — us — either on the way across or when we get to Europe. But two things he did tell me this morning —” “I knew you had something to tell me.”
“Yes. I was just trying to be a tease. It didn’t work, did it? Remember those two so-called electrical engineers that the police escorted to the train? They were our people, electronic experts searching for listening devices — bugs. They concentrated on your apartment.”
“Bugs? In my apartment. Come on, Maria, that is a bit melodramatic.”
“Is it? The second items of news is that a few days ago they found two bugs in Mr Wrinfield’s office — one for the room, one for the telephone. I suppose that’s melodramatic, too?” When Bruno made no reply she went on: “They haven’t removed the bugs. Mr Wrinfield, on Dr Harper’s suggestion, is on the phone to Charles several times a day, dropping vague hints and making veiled suggestions about certain members of the circus who might be of interest to him. Nothing about us, of course. In fact he’s made so many suggestions that if they — whoever ›they‹ may be — are keeping tabs on the suggested suspects they won’t have time to look at far less think about anyone else. Which, of course, includes us.” “I think they’re nuts,” Bruno said candidly. “And by ›they‹, this time, I don’t mean ›they‹, I mean Wrinfield and Harper. Playing little kiddies’ games.”
“The murders of Pilgrim and Fawcett. That was a game?” “Preserve me from feminine logic. I wasn’t talking about them.”
“Dr Harper has twenty years’ experience behind him.” “Or one year’s twenty times over. OK, so I leave myself in the safe arms of the experts. Meantime, I suppose there’s nothing for the sacrificial calf to do?”
“No. Well, yes. You can tell me how to get in touch with you.”
“Knock twice and ask for Bruno.”
“You have a sealed-off suite here. I won’t be able to see you when the train is in motion.”
“Well, well.” Bruno smiled widely, a rare thing for him: it was the first time she had seen his smile touch his eyes. “I make progress. You think you’ll be wanting to see me?” “Don’t be silly. I may have to see you.”
Bruno nodded forwards. “It’s illegal to seal off any part of a coach in motion. There’s a door in the corner of my bedroom that leads to the passage beyond. But it’s only got one handle and that’s on my side.”
“If I knock tat-tat, tat-tat, you’ll know it’s me.” “Tat-tat, tat-tat,” he said solemnly. “I love those kiddies’ games.”
He escorted her back to her compartment. At the foot of the steps he said: “Well, good-night. Thanks for the visit.” He bent forward and kissed her lightly.
