Murder on the Marmora by Conrad Allen Read Free Book Online Page A

a theft.”
    “Why me?” the old woman asked in dismay.
    “For two reasons,” said Miss Masefield. “If, by chance, you’d caught the thief in the act, you’d pose no threat to him. He’d know he could push you aside and make his escape. The other reason is more obvious, I’m afraid,” she continued, using her pencil to pointat the items she mentioned. “That’s a beautiful brooch you’re wearing, and those diamond earrings are even more eye-catching. A thief would be bound to notice that gorgeous ruby ring and that lovely watch of yours as well. Since you have a certain amount of expensive jewelry on display, there was a fair chance you’d have brought more with you.”
    “I did. A whole box of it.”
    “Let’s start there, shall we?”
    “If you wish,” murmured Mrs. Prendergast.
    “What was the most important item in the jewelry box?”
    “My mother’s wedding ring.”
    Dinner on the first evening afloat was informal though some of the passengers decided to dress up for the occasion. A few full-length evening gowns made their appearance and there was an occasional man in white tie and tails amid the prevailing suits. George Porter Dillman sided with the majority and looked elegant in a navy-blue three-piece suit that emphasized his slim build. When he entered the first-class dining room, he did not need to search for a seat. A place had already been reserved for him by some fellow passengers he had met on the way to Tilbury.
    “Come and join us, Mr. Dillman!” invited Morton Goss, rising to his feet.
    “Thank you,” the detective said.
    “We were hoping to be able to grab you.”
    “Yes,” said Rebecca Goss. “We Bostonians must stick together.”
    Dillman took a seat at the long table being shared by the Goss family with a dozen other people. The chairs were bolted to the floor but swiveled easily to allow access. Morton Goss was a short, stooping man of fifty with a bald head that was covered with a fine cobweb of hair and large eyes that gleamed behind his spectacles. An Egyptologist with an international reputation, Goss had a true zealot’s passion for his subject. His wife, Rebecca, by contrast, wasa small birdlike creature with no interest in archaeology of any kind but with an abiding interest in people. While her husband collected relics from ancient Egypt, Rebecca Goss preferred to make new friends.
    “We haven’t seen you since we came aboard,” she complained with a good-natured smile. “Have you been hiding from us, Mr. Dillman?”
    “Not at all, Mrs. Goss. My cabin is on the main deck. Where are you?”
    “On the promenade deck.”
    “That explains it, then,” said Dillman.
    “Not really. Polly went looking for you and couldn’t find you anywhere.” She switched her gaze to her daughter, who was seated beside Dillman. “Could you, Polly?”
    “No, Mother,” said the girl.
    “Did you search the main deck?”
    “Yes, I did. Twice.”
    It was disturbing news. Dillman did not like the notion that someone was on his tail, especially when she happened to be an impressionable seventeen-year-old girl. Polly Goss was taller than both her parents, and, though still rather gauche, was both attractive and personable. When Dillman turned to her, she gave him a smile of frank admiration.
    “Did you enjoy your trip to London, Miss Goss?” he asked.
    “Very much. It was wonderful.”
    “What did you do?”
    “Mother and I saw all the sights and we went shopping. Oh, and we saw a play one evening. Father, of course,” she added, glancing across at him, “spent most of his time at the British Museum or at the university.”
    “What play did you see?”
    “
Major Barbara
,” replied Rebecca. “Do you know it?”
    “Yes,” said Dillman. “I’m very fond of George Bernard Shaw’s work.”
    “It was so funny,” said Polly. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it before.”
    “I managed to catch that production myself and enjoyed it hugely. The problem was that I