THE ACTOR ACTS
A definite change was apparent in the very feel of that yacht after
the events of the morning. Henry Breese had been helped to the cabin
by Rice and his mother. I waited for them to reappear but when the
scowling Japanese announced lunch, there was no sign of them, nor of
my other fellow-passengers. I deliberately wandered through the decks,
the music-room, even the corridors, hoping that I would meet someone
who could shed light on the boy’s crazy adventure. I even tried to pump
the crew. But each man fell unaccountably silent, and I could see that
orders had been given to stem gossip.
At lunch only Guy Thomas appeared, and he was morose and sullen.
The steward plied us with the choicest foods, from caviar and hors
d’oeuvres and fresh turtle soup to an over-rich dessert, and he ate
steadily on, without a word. I realized that this lunch was designed
to celebrate his engagement, and I felt very much of a vulture as I
glanced at the empty chairs.
Finally, because I could not stand the silence any longer, I said to
Thomas: “Perhaps this isn’t the pleasantest subject of the moment, but
have you any idea of what happened this morning?”
He was just about to light a cigarette, but held his lighter suspended.
His eyes set obstinately. “I’ve got an idea, all right,” he muttered.
Then he peered at me suspiciously, as if debating whether he could
trust me or not. “I’ve got more than an idea!”
The verdict seemed favorable.
“Rice put him up to that.”
“Put him up to what?” I asked puzzled.
“That suicide rot. They framed it between them!”
“Do you mean to say that the boy deliberately jumped in and waited for
Rice to drag him out? But why?”
“Why?” He looked at me pityingly. “To scare Dora, that’s why! But they
can’t fool me. They couldn’t talk her out of it, so they wanted to
scare her out of it.”
“What proof have you got?” I demanded.
“Proof? I don’t need any proof.” And then sullenly, “They may be
getting more than they’re bargaining for. I’m not going to stand for
anything like that, hang it all! They won’t get rid of me that way.” He
peered at me suspiciously. “You can go back and tell them that. You’re
on their side.”
I protested that I was not on any side, but he rose from the table
and left me. Puzzled more than ever, I threw away my cigar and then
descended to my cabin. After a while I dismissed the events of the
morning and pondered upon my own anomalous situation. Having aligned
myself against my employer, I must now swim, walk or work my way back
to New York. My prospects did not seem bright once we landed in Havana.
There was a knock at the door, and at my invitation Rice entered. He
had changed into a blue business suit, and his made-to-order face
showed no trace of his exciting morning.
“Thought I’d come in and talk to you,” he began, seating himself on the
edge of the cot. “Mrs. Breese is busy at the moment and she delegated
me to tell you that she wouldn’t need your services after we got to
Havana.”
I nodded.
“I’ve got some money here, for salary and your expenses back. I’m
sorry the way things have happened. I don’t suppose it’s particularly
pleasant for you, but it hasn’t been particularly pleasant for us,
either. Now there’s one thing I wanted to ask you----” He paused
deliberately. “Not a word about what’s happened this morning. Will you
swear to that?”
I looked at Rice and then was seized by an audacious thought. Curiosity
has led me into many difficulties.
“I’ll do no such thing,” I said flatly. “I’m not bound by any
confidence. When I leave this boat, I’ll be at liberty to say anything
I please.”
Rice’s blue eyes became agate. “Oh--so?” he considered.
“Yes,” I said coolly. “I resigned as Mrs. Breese’s press-agent before
her son threw himself overboard, or at least tried to.” I sought to
make my voice mocking. “I wonder if he really tried to.”
I saw Rice start.
“What in damnation do you mean by that?”
“Well,” I hazarded, “I have reason to believe that you and he
have--well, shall I call it an understanding?--Yes, I’ll call it an
understanding.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rice snapped, but his tone
lacked conviction. I sensed that Guy Thomas’ seemingly wild suspicions
had some basis in fact. I pursued my advantage.
“Of course,” I said, “if I were taken into your confidence, I wouldn’t
dream of violating it by telling any tales out of school. But since you
choose to distrust me, I am at liberty to act as I see fit.”
Slowly a grin spread over Rice’s florid features, and his blue eyes
twinkled. He waved a hand, as if in defeat.
“Well, all right,” he gestured. “I suppose I should have told you in
the first place. But mind you, this is in the strictest confidence.
I’ve got your word of honor you won’t repeat a word?”
I indicated that he had.
“After all,” he continued, “you acted square enough about quitting
your job rather than letting poor Dora go ahead with it. It’s only due
you that I tell you the truth. You see, we were right up against it.
Dora’s the finest woman in the world, and I’m proud to know her. But
every now and then she gets obstinate. And just because her kids don’t
like Thomas, and I don’t like him, and you don’t like him, she gets
it into her head that there’s a conspiracy against the poor boy. She
thinks there’s something fine in him that nobody else can see. Well,
I knew what was coming. When she sprang the news, it was no news to
me, and it was no news to Henry. So we decided on that cheap trick.
Oh, I know it was cheap. But that’s the sort of thing that makes an
impression on Dora, if you know what I mean.
“She should have been an actress. She likes to do the ordinary things
in a big, exciting way. And we figured--well, to be frank, I did,
because Henry didn’t want to scare his mother--fine boy, Henry--we
figured that if she could get the idea that she’s sacrificing her big
love for her children, she’d be more excited about that than marrying
this damn fool she’s toting around. And I was right.” There was a touch
of pride in his voice.
“She’s down with Henry now, and she can’t do enough for him.
So--there’s the whole story and I’m glad I told you, and I know from my
experience with the newspaper boys that it’s safe in your keeping.” He
rose. “Any questions?” He smiled disarmingly and his eyes which could
be agate were merry and frank. I shook my head. “Glad I told you,” he
said in parting. “You newspaper fellows find out everything if you’re
told or not. Hanged if I see how you do it!”
I could not tell him that all credit was due Mr. Thomas, and not me.
Then I realized in surprise that the actor was perhaps not quite as
vacuous as I imagined. Or perhaps he was super-sensitive to events that
concerned his own welfare.
No one appeared at dinner save myself, and I dined in solitary state.
Apparently even Mr. Thomas had deserted me. So, after dinner, I
strolled out on deck. There was but a faint moon, and the sky was
starless, but the night was warm and the southern waters placid. I
breathed deeply, and having caught the first harbinger of the gentle
climate, bitterly regretted the necessity of returning to riveting
machines and dust-laden pavements.
As I passed the windows of the row of cabins on the starboard deck,
I gathered that dinner was still in progress in Mrs. Breese’s
sitting-room. I could hear her voice, and that of her son. And
occasionally Rice’s hearty voice boomed forth. I moved on. Just as I
reached the last window, I was attracted by a movement within the dark
cabin. Sometimes, the faint stirring of the shadow of a leaf will rivet
your attention. It was so in this case. I could not for the life of me
tell you what made me stop at that moment and peer within the cabin.
And then I descried a vague figure, and as I strained to see I could
recognize Guy Thomas. He was bent over a suitcase and rummaging
through its contents with feverish haste.
“Now what in the world,” I thought to myself, “is Guy Thomas doing in
that boy’s cabin?” To all outward appearances, the actor seemed to
be engaged in some amateur burgling. But this I dismissed rightly as
absurd. I moved cautiously and attempted to get a better view.
But Thomas had risen. Hastily he shut the suitcase, stopped to listen
intently and then darted out of the room. I heard his footsteps in the
corridor. He was headed for the deck. Instinctively I moved into the
shadow of the bridge, and I saw Thomas advance in my direction. Then he
stopped, directly in the glow of light that came from the corridor.
From his pocket he took a bulky object. I could not see it at first,
and I was afraid to move closer. Then, as he held it in the light, I
started. It was a pearl-handled revolver that he clutched in his hand,
and with expert fingers I saw him click the cartridges from the barrel.
These he hurled into the sea, and it seemed to me he heaved a sigh of
relief. Then he put the revolver in his pocket, looked about once more
to make sure he had not been discovered, and moved into the corridor
again.