Russian and the Romanian had been so sure of themselves, so arrogant. Jeff had said, "Trust me," and she had. She had no illusions about what he was. He was a con artist. He was bright and amusing and clever, easy to be with. But of course she could never be seriously interested in him.
Jeff was on the way to his stateroom when he encountered one of the ship's officers.
"Good show, Mr. Stevens. The word about the match has already gone out over the wireless. I imagine the press will be meeting you both at Southampton. Are you Miss Whitney's manager?"
"No, we're just shipboard acquaintances," Jeff said easily, but his mind was racing. If he and Tracy were linked together, it would look like a setup. There could even be an investigation. He decided to collect the money before any suspicions were aroused.
Jeff wrote a note to Tracy. HAVE PICKED UP MONEY AND WILL MEET YOU FOR A CELEBRATION BREAKFAST AT THE SAVOY HOTEL. YOU WERE MAGNIFICENT. JEFF. He sealed it in an envelope and handed it to a steward. "Please see that Miss Whitney gets this first thing in the morning."
"Yes, Sir."
Jeff headed for the purser's office.
"Sorry to bother you," Jeff apologized, "but we'll be docking in a few hours, and I know how busy you're going to be, so I wondered whether you'd mind paying me off now?"
"No trouble at all," the purser smiled. "Your young lady is really wizard, isn't she?"
"She certainly is."
"If you don't mind my asking, Mr. Stevens, where in the world did she learn to play chess like that?"
Jeff leaned close and confided, "I heard she studied with Bobby Fischer."
The purser took two large manila envelopes out of the safe. "This is a lot of cash to carry around. Would you like me to give you a check for this amount?"
"No, don't bother. The cash will be fine," Jeff assured him. "I wonder if you could do me a favor? The mail boat comes out to meet the ship before it docks, doesn't it?"
"Yes, Sir. We're expecting it at six A.M."
"I'd appreciate it if you could arrange for me to leave on the mail boat. My mother is seriously ill, and I'd like to get to her before it's" - his voice dropped - "before it's too late."
"Oh, I'm dreadfully sorry, Mr. Stevens. Of course I can handle that for you. I'll make the arrangements with customs."
At 6:15 A.M. Jeff Stevens, with the two envelopes carefully stashed away in his suitcase, climbed down the ship's ladder into the mail boat. He turned to take one last look at the outline of the huge ship towering above him. The passengers on the liner were sound asleep. Jeff would be on the dock long before the QE II landed. "It was a beautiful voyage," Jeff said to one of the crewmen on the mail boat.
"Yes, it was, wasn't it?" a voice agreed.
Jeff turned around. Tracy was seated on a coil of rope, her hair blowing softly around her face.
"Tracy! What are you doing here?"
"What do you think I'm doing?"
He saw the expression on her face. "Wait a minute! You didn't think I was going to run out on you?"
"Why would I think that?" Her tone was bitter.
"Tracy, I left a note for you. I was going to meet you at the Savoy and - "
"Of course you were," she said cuttingly. "You never give up, do you?"
He looked at her, and there was nothing more for him to say.
In Tracy's suite at the Savoy, she watched carefully as Jeff counted out the money. "Your share comes to one hundred and one thousand dollars."
"Thank you." Her tone was icy.
Jeff said, "You know, you're wrong about me, Tracy. I wish you'd give me a chance to explain. Will you have dinner with me tonight?"
She hesitated, then nodded. "All right."
"Good. I'll pick you up at eight o'clock."
When Jeff Stevens arrived at the hotel that evening and asked for Tracy, the room clerk said, "I'm sorry, sir. Miss Whitney checked out early this afternoon. She left no forwarding address."
Chapter 21
It was the handwritten invitation. Tracy decided later, that changed her life.
After, collecting her share of the money from Jeff Stevens, Tracy checked out of the Savoy and moved into 47 Park Street, a quiet, semiresidential hotel with large, pleasant rooms and superb service.
On her second day in London the invitation was delivered to her suite by the hall porter. It was written in a fine,