The Man in the Brown Suit - Agatha Christie [23]
‘That man? Oh, that’s Sir Eustace Pedler’s secretary. Been very sea-sick, poor chap, and not appeared before. Sir Eustace has got two secretaries with him, and the sea’s been too much for both of them. The other fellow hasn’t turned up yet. This man’s name is Pagett.’
So Sir Eustace Pedler, the owner of the Mill House, was on board. Probably only a coincidence, and yet–
‘That’s Sir Eustace,’ my informant continued, ‘sitting next to the Captain. Pompous old ass.’
The more I studied the secretary’s face, the less I liked it. Its even pallor, the secretive, heavy-lidded eyes, the curiously flattened head–it all gave a feeling of distaste, of apprehension.
Leaving the saloon at the same time as he did, I was close behind him as he went up on deck. He was speaking to Sir Eustace, and I overheard a fragment or two.
‘I’ll see about the cabin at once then, shall I? It’s impossible to work in yours, with all your trunks.’
‘My dear fellow,’ Sir Eustace replied. ‘My cabin is intended (a) for me to sleep in, and (b) to attempt to dress in. I never had any intentions of allowing you to sprawl about the place making an infernal clicking with that typewriter of yours.’
‘That’s just what I say, Sir Eustace, we must have somewhere to work–’
Here I parted company from them, and went below to see if my removal was in progress. I found my steward busy at the task.
‘Very nice cabin, miss. On D deck. No. 13.’
‘Oh, no!’ I cried. ‘Not 13.’
13 is the one thing I am superstitious about. It was a nice cabin too. I inspected it, wavered, but a foolish superstition prevailed. I appealed almost tearfully to the steward.
‘Isn’t there any other cabin I can have?’
The steward reflected.
‘Well, there’s 17, just along the starboard side. That was empty this morning, but I rather fancy it’s been allotted to someone. Still, as the gentleman’s things aren’t in yet, and as gentlemen aren’t anything like so superstitious as ladies, I dare say he wouldn’t mind changing.’
I hailed the proposition gratefully, and the steward departed to obtain permission from the purser. He returned grinning.
‘That’s all right, miss. We can go along.’
He led the way to 17. It was not quite as large as No. 13, but I found it eminently satisfactory.
‘I’ll fetch your things right away, miss,’ said the steward.
But at that moment the man with the sinister face (as I had nicknamed him) appeared in the doorway.
‘Excuse me,’ he said, ‘but this cabin is reserved for the use of Sir Eustace Pedler.’
‘That’s all right, sir,’ explained the steward. ‘We’re fitting up No. 13 instead.’
‘No, it was No. 17 I was to have.’
‘No. 13 is a better cabin, sir–larger.’
‘I specially selected No. 17, and the purser said I could have it.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said coldly. ‘But No. 17 has been allotted to me.’
‘I can’t agree to that.’
The steward put in his oar.
‘The other cabin’s just the same, only better.’
‘I want No. 17.’
‘What’s all this?’ demanded a new voice. ‘Steward, put my things in here. This is my cabin.’
It was my neighbour at lunch, the Rev. Edward Chichester.
‘I beg your pardon,’ I said. ‘It’s my cabin.’
‘It is allotted to Sir Eustace Pedler,’ said Mr Pagett.
We were all getting rather heated.
‘I’m sorry to have to dispute the matter,’ said Chichester with a meek smile which failed to mask his determination to get his own way. Meek men are always obstinate, I have noticed.
He edged himself sideways into the doorway.
‘You’re to have No. 28 on the port side,’ said the steward. ‘A very good cabin, sir.’
‘I am afraid that I must insist. No. 17 was the cabin promised to me.’
We had come to an impasse. Each one of us was determined not to give way. Strictly speaking, I, at any rate, might have retired from the contest and eased matters by offering to accept Cabin 28. So long as I did not have 13 it was immaterial to me what other cabin I had. But my blood was up. I had not the least intention of being the first to give way. And I disliked Chichester. He had false teeth that clicked when he ate. Many men have been hated for less.
We all said the same things over