To Davy Jones Below by Carola Dunn

Author:Carola Dunn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2011-04-25T16:00:00+00:00

12

Time or the ginger tea had settled Alec’s stomach to the point where he agreed to accompany Daisy to the library. She hoped to get a little work done before dinner.

“It’s a pity I don’t write for one of the Sunday rags,” she said wistfully, watching him put on his jacket and force a comb through his thick hair. “Just think what I could make of all the goings-on on board!”

He regarded her in the looking-glass. “I expect they would buy it even though you’re not a regular contributor.”

“Probably.” Daisy shook her head. “But it’s simply not my line.”

“There’s bound to be a good bit of publicity when we reach New York,” Alec consoled her. “People will buy the magazine with your impressions of the voyage just because of the notoriety. All right, let’s go, before I lose my nerve.”

“You’ll be perfectly all right if you don’t think about it.”

“I dare say, but don’t expect me to go in to dinner. That would be tempting fate. By the way, when you spoke to Amboyne, I imagine you asked after Denton?”

“He’s no better, maybe even worse. Still unconscious.”

“It’s not easy,” said Alec in tones of strong disapproval, “to investigate an attempted murder in which one cannot speak to the victim, and a murder in which the victim’s body is unavailable.”

In the library, he settled down with an R. Austin Freeman novel in which the murder or murders would be solved without fail by the inimitable Dr. Thorndyke, probably with the aid of dust from the murderer’s pockets. Daisy managed to put aside thoughts of murder and bring some order to her notes on the lighter side of shipboard life. Absorbed, she found herself with only ten minutes to change for dinner. She rushed off, leaving Alec steadfastly refusing to contemplate food.

Mr. Arbuckle did turn up to dinner, though he limited himself to clear soup and a dry roll. Horrified to learn of the second man overboard, he exacted a promise from Phillip never to let go of Gloria’s hand or arm while they were on deck.

“My pleasure, sir,” said Phillip, grinning.

“He never does anyway, Poppa,” Gloria said complacently, “unless we’re playing a game, and they haven’t allowed any deck games since this morning. Phil’s been teaching me to play pool—snooker, he calls it. It’s a mighty interesting game when the slope of the table changes from moment to moment.”

Everyone laughed, even Gotobed, who was out of spirits, not at all his usual lively self.

“It’s a hanging table,” Phillip explained, “so it stays level in calm seas, but it can’t cope with what we’ve been having.”

“I’ll have to come and watch you play tomorrow,” said Daisy. “It might make an amusing paragraph for my article.”

“Yes, do come along, old bean,” Phillip urged. “You’ll have to give it a try. Daisy’s not a bad player, Glow-worm.”

“I’ve beaten you more than once,” Daisy reminded him, adding hastily, “playing on a level table. Do you play, Miss Oliphant?”

“I never have. In my youth, it was considered a game strictly for gentlemen.

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