Murder on the Minnesota by Edward Marston

Author:Edward Marston
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Allison & Busby
Published: 2022-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

Dillman examined the weapon with care. It was loaded. The detective went after the wounded man to question him, but he had already vanished around a corner. Dillman searched for him without success, wondering where he could possibly have gone. He could hardly bang on the door of every cabin in pursuit of him. Abandoning the search, he then went back to the companionway where the scuffle had occurred and climbed to the top. The corridor on the promenade deck was deserted, and there were no indications that a struggle had taken place. Dillman reasoned that it had been short-lived. The fact that nobody had been aroused by the sound showed how quickly the fight had been resolved. When he tumbled down the steps, the noise the man made was partially muffled by the constant hum of the ship’s engines. Dillman speculated on whether or not his presence had brought an end to the assault. Had the attacker simply pushed his victim down the steps, or would he have followed to inflict further damage? Whatever the truth, Dillman was grateful that he was passing when he did.

What mystified him was the victim’s reaction. Anyone else who was injured in that way would have welcomed help, yet the man had spurned it completely. He had not even admitted that the fight had taken place. Dillman wondered who he was. It was evident from his clothing that he had not dined in the first-class saloon, and Dillman did not recall having seen him on the ship before. Yet he had disappeared so quickly that he must have had a cabin on the upper deck. Dillman looked more closely at the weapon. It was a Smith & Wesson.38 Hand Ejector with a swing-out cylinder that was opened by a thumb-operated catch on the frame. He noted the locking lug under the barrel into which the front end of the ejector rod was engaged, thus securing the cylinder head at both ends. It was a refinement introduced by the manufacturer some years earlier. Dillman had once carried a revolver of that type in the course of his work as an operative for the Pinkerton Agency. It was an effective weapon, and the last thing he would have expected to find on a passenger.

The sound of footsteps down below alerted him. Thrusting the gun into his belt, he descended the steps at speed. Dillman reached the passageway below in time to see a figure walking casually away from him.

‘Mr Blaine?’ he called.

He stopped and turned. ‘Why, Mr Dillman. What are you doing about so late?’

‘I was enjoying a walk on deck.’

‘Wasn’t it rather cold out there?’

‘A trifle.’

‘I lingered rather longer in the smoking room than I intended,’ said Blaine with a polite yawn. ‘I was sorry to desert you and Mrs Brinkley like that.’

‘Not at all. You obviously had an important summons.’

‘It was a false alarm, as it happens,’ said the other with a bland smile. ‘I wish I’d stayed to enjoy another brandy. Charming lady, isn’t she?’ He gave another smile.

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