Murder Most Posh: A Mrs. Xavier Stayton Mystery by Robert Colton Read Free Book Online Page B

notebook down, I glanced across the bedroom and spotted my pearl necklace and earrings on the dressing table beside my open jewelry box. Emeralds, rubies, and sapphires reflected in the morning’s light. I decided at once to ignore Maxie Beaumont’s advice.
     
       “This should just take a moment,” I assured Lucy. “Then we will get breakfast.”
       Agreeable as always, Lucy replied, “Of course.”
       With my little jewel case in hand, we stepped inside the purser’s outer office. My intention was to lock up the many valuable gems that Xavier had given me. If the Olivia suffered the same fate as her sister ship, at least I would know where my jewels were. This seemed preferable to some master criminal absconding with them.
       Within the outer room, we found a young woman crying as two crewmen stood to either side of her. I recognized her instantly. She was the young woman I saw in the ballroom the night before. She was still wearing her glamorous gown.
       Mr. Pace, the ship’s purser, held up a hand to pause the hushed conversation he was attempting to hold with the upset young lady. “Just a tick.”  He then turned to me, “Hello, Mrs. Stayton. How may I be of service to you?”
       Still clutching my jewel case, I asked, “What seems to be the matter here?”
       One of the crewmen said, “Stowaway.”
       The young woman broke out into fresh tears. “I just wanted to follow Francisco to America—”
       The same crewman remarked, “He’ll be fired over this—”
       “Enough,” said Mr. Pace in a low tone. He smiled at me and said, “Nothing for you to worry about, Mrs. Stayton; now, how can I help you?”
       I handed my jewelry box over to Lucy and said, “I would like to pay for this young woman’s accommodations.”
       The young woman called out in her native tongue what I believed to be a blessing as Mr. Pace fumbled for words.
      “Lucy and I can share one of the bedrooms, and she can have the other.” I turned to her and asked slowly, unsure how much English she spoke, “What is your name, dear?”
       “Yara Pinto; you are a saint—”
       Mr. Pace interrupted, “Mrs. Stayton, this is really not your concern.”
      “I must disagree with you, Mr. Pace. It is the duty of any Christian woman to lend aid when she can. Send a telegraph off to my business manager. Mr. Jack will see to it that her passage is paid for in full. She will be my guest.”
      The purser and the two crewmen looked at me with great astonishment. (Of course, upon returning home and finding out just how much the passage on board the Olivia costs, it struck me that the true Christian thing to do would be to travel third class and give the rest of the fee to charity— a variety of charities in fact.)
       I took Yara by the hand and led her away, knowing that Mr. Pace had no choice but to adhere to my wishes.
       Tears of joy replaced the tears of fear on Yara’s exotic face. She was a very pretty girl, with a lovely smile.
       In her state of excitement, English failed her as she said, “ Obrigado, obrigado .”
       Lucy leaned toward my ear and said, “She’s saying thank you in Portuguese. I believe that’s what they speak in Brazil.”
         “Well, now, enough of that,” I told Yara, patting her hand. “We need to have some breakfast.”
       We returned to our room, and while I hid my jewelry case under the bed, Lucy found a nice frock for Yara that was more suited for breakfast.
       Only after we arrived at a gaily decorated café and ordered our meal did Yara find composure, and her English.
       “Never have I done anything like this, I promise,” she told us, explaining her daring actions.
       Smearing a bit of honey onto my toast, I replied, “Well, I certainly would hope not.”
       “Where are you from?” Lucy inquired.
       “Fortaleza, Brazil,” Yara responded.
       “However, you were obviously last in England, France, or