think it may be the same message.’

‘Thanks, Sparks.’ Captain Steen tore it open, read it, and stood up abruptly. ‘If you’ll excuse us. Mr. Lind, will you come up to my office?’

They hurried out, followed by the wireless operator. Goddard and the two women looked at each other, puzzled and vaguely uneasy, and Madeleine Lennox asked, ‘What on earth could that be?’

‘Nothing serious,’ Goddard said. ‘My check bounced, and they’re going to bill Mrs. Brooke for my passage.’ ‘That’s the code of the sea?’

‘It’s invariable. Harsh, I’ll admit, but the sea demands it. Well, I always wanted to be the pampered plaything of a beautiful woman.’

‘I should warn you then,’ Karen said, ‘that my standard contract with pampered playthings has a clause they have to address me by my first name.’

It was no use; the banter fell flat. It was too hot to eat, the place weighed on their spirits, and they were all thinking of the radiogram. There was something very urgent about it for Captain Steen to depart that way. As if on cue, they got up and went out. Karen apologized to the dining room steward.

‘It’s no reflection on the food, Karl. It’s just too hot.’

They went on deck on the port side and walked forward. The sun had disappeared behind another ominous mass of clouds in the west and there was a faintly sulfurous cast to the light. It was twenty minutes later when Goddard saw Lind come around the corner of the deckhouse aft and disappear into the passageway. Something was happening, all right, if he hadn’t gone back to his watch; the third mate relieved him only long enough for dinner. They walked back, and as they came abreast of the porthole of Egerton’s cabin they saw the mate inside.

‘What is it?’ Goddard asked.

‘All hell’s breaking loose. Tell you about it in a minute.’ Lind closed the porthole, and they could see him tightening down the dogs. They went around into the passageway. He was just emerging from the cabin. He locked the door and dropped the key in his pocket. ‘Come on into the lounge.’

They followed him, completely mystified and conscious of a vague foreboding. When the women were seated, he said, ‘You’re already involved, so the skipper decided there’s no point in any cloak-and-dagger secrecy about it. We’re all going to be hit by a wave of police and newspaper reporters when we dock in Manila, and you might as well be prepared.’

‘Egerton,’ Goddard said.

Lind nodded. He took two folded radiograms from his shirt pocket, and handed one to Goddard. ‘Read ‘em aloud. This one first. They were filed about two hours apart, in Buenos Aires, and Sparks is having trouble keeping up now.’

Goddard unfolded it and started to read.

MASTER S/S LEANDER SAN FRANCISCO RADIO

URGENTLY REQUEST IMMEDIATE VERIFICATION FOLLOWING PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF PASSENGER ABOARD YOUR VESSEL USING NAME WALTER EGERTON CARRYING BRITISH PASSPORT AND CLAIMING BE EX-COLONEL ENGLISH ARMY STOP WEARS EYE PATCH LEFT EYE FIVE FEET ELEVEN ONE HUNDRED SIXTY POUNDS GRAY HAIR GRAY MOUSTACHE UPPER-CLASS ENGLISH ACCENT STOP IF DESCRIPTION TALLIES IMPERATIVE DO NOT AROUSE SUSPICIONS THIS MAN OR REVEAL CONTENTS THIS MESSAGE AND IF RADIO NEWS DISSEMINATED ABOARD VESSEL PLEASE CENSOR ACCORDINGLY STOP DELIVER NO MESSAGES TO HIM STOP POLICE WILL BOARD VESSEL WITH PILOT BOAT YOUR ARRIVAL MANILA STOP PASSPORT IS FORGERY AND THERE IS STRONG EVIDENCE MAN IS HUGO MAYR—

Goddard broke off and looked at Lind, suddenly remembering Krasicki’s scream: Mire! You go Mire! There were simultaneous exclamations from the two women. ‘That’s what he was saying!’

Lind nodded. Goddard continued reading.

—HUGO MAYR STOP REPLY LT. HANS RICHTER CARE BUENOS AIRES POLICE.

It was Karen who broke the silence. ‘But he couldn’t have been!’ She cried out incredulously. ‘That sweet, charming man!’

Lind spread his hands. ‘Krasicki seemed to have no doubts.’

‘But everybody’s believed Mayr was dead,’ Madeleine Lennox said. ‘For over twenty years.’

‘Not everybody,’ Lind replied. ‘They were still looking for him.’

‘He must have discovered they were on his trail,’ Goddard said, ‘and tried to run for it.’

‘My guess,’ Lind said, ‘is that Egerton was a new identity. Simply running wouldn’t have done any good, if they were closing in on him.’

‘Sure,’ Goddard said. ‘And wait—that wireless from Señora Santos. Warning, probably, that they were about to crack the Egerton identity, or were asking questions.’

‘Good thinking, Sherlock,’ Lind said. He handed over the second radiogram. ‘You’re right on the button.’

Goddard read it aloud.

MASTER S/S LEANDER SAN FRANCISCO RADIO

JUST LEARNED THIS HOUR OF YOUR WIRELESS TO CONSUELA SANTOS REVEALING DEATH