The False Inspector Dew

13

By noon, when the ship's whistle sent vibrations through the upper decks, there was standing room only in the smoking room, and not much of that. The announcement of the number of miles covered in the previous twenty-four hours aroused extraordinary excitement each day, not from pride in the Mauretania's performance so much as interest in the outcome of the auction pool. The passengers' anticipation had been fuelled after dinner the previous evening when the auction of the twenty numbers had raised thousands of dollars, spurred on by a personable chairman and attentive smoking room stewards, who took ten per cent of the winnings.

Johnny Finch was in possession of a number, a fancied number from the centre of the range, 540 miles. He had paid almost as many dollars for it in the auction, i splash out once a crossing,' he confided to Alma, who had come out of curiosity to hear the announcement. 'Never won yet, but never had the nerve before now to pay a top price for a really good number. My right ear-lobe has been itching like the devil, and that's a very reliable omen.'

Alma glanced at his ear. It certainly looked more pink than the other one. 'Perhaps it has something to do with your morning walk round the promenade deck,' she suggested. 'That ear is more exposed to the sea-wind. Why don't you try going clockwise for a change?'

Johnny laughed. 'Because then I wouldn't have a lucky ear. Alma, my dear, I never met anyone so solemn as you, and it's such enormous fun. Win or lose, I'm going to crack a bottle of fizz with you tonight and see if I can't make you laugh.'

'I'm not much of a drinker,' said Alma doubtfully.

'It shouldn't take much then,' said Johnny, with a wink, followed by a deft change of subject: 'I hear that the strangler's still at large.'

'I thought they caught someone attacking an American girl last night.'

'They did, but it was all a mistake. Inspector Dew spent the morning questioning the chap and now he's released him. It wasn't the strangler after all. I hope Dew knows what he's doing.'

'So do I.' Alma spoke from the heart, though without much confidence. She had the petrifying suspicion that Walter had set a killer loose out of some peculiar sense of fair play. What would he do if she were attacked tonight?

The chairman of the auction pool was beating the mahogany table with his gavel. Something close to silence descended on the smoking room. Fingers were crossed and private prayers sent up. Syndicates clustered in whispering groups, making final checks of the numbers they held. Individual possessors of numbers, like Johnny, knew theirs by heart.

'My lords, ladies and gentlemen, the officer of the watch has just sent down from the bridge this note of the number of sea miles the Mauretania has travelled since mid-day yesterday. I understand that there is a certain amount of interest in the information.'

'Get on with it!' came a shout from the back.

'Five hundred and fifty!' shouted someone else, and there was pandemonium as numbers were suggested from all over the room.

The chairman knocked on the table for order. He took another look at the sheet of paper in his hand. 'The winning number is five hundred and forty '

'By God — it's mine!' said Johnny in a gasp.

'- six,' said the chairman. 'Five hundred and forty-six.'

'Oh, no!' cried Alma in disappointment. 'Johnny, I'm sorry!' She put both her hands round one of his and squeezed it.

'Ah, well,' said Johnny philosophically, 'it seems you were right about those sea breezes on my ear.'

'Not necessarily,' said Alma.

'What do you mean?'

'There's still the prize for the best fancy dress, isn't there?'