The Pleasure Cruise Mystery (18 page)

Just before dinner the “Mars” moved smoothly into the wide mouth of the Tagus as the sun was flooding the western sky with gold and crimson. Lisbon rose up from the darkening sea a chequered pattern of pink and white formed by the shingled roofs and light-coloured walls of so many of its buildings. Vereker, gazing at its terraces of houses of Moorish aspect, gilded by the mellow light, found it inexpressibly beautiful. For some time his thoughts wandered away dreamily from his grim occupation with the Pleasure Cruise Mystery and slipped back into the happier region of painting, which he had for the time being deserted in favour of his exacting hobby of detection.

The “Mars” berthed at the quay at Alcantara-Mar and a large number of the passengers went ashore to spend the evening in Lisbon. Immediately the gangways were in position for disembarkation Vereker hurried on to the quay, quickly satisfied the Portuguese Customs with regard to his trunk and hailed a taxi. Seated in this car (it was quite unlike the regulation English conveyance), he asked the driver to take up a position from which he could see the other passengers emerge. Eventually Miguel Dias came through the throng that had gathered to welcome the arrival of the ship, and quickly disappeared into another car after giving the driver hurried instructions. Ricardo had learned from Miss Penteado that Dias was going to stay at the Hotel do Parque, near the Casino gardens at Estoril, but Vereker was not going to take anything for granted. The Penteados' evasion of his invitation to leave the ship at Lisbon might in any case have caused Dias to change his plans. No sooner had he boarded the car and it had moved off than Vereker instructed his driver to follow at a discreet distance behind. The foremost car travelled at a reckless pace, taking the road which lies parallel with the electric railway skirting the shore. Vereker had frequently travelled by that electric railway on former visits, and knew that the line ended in the little fishing village of Cascaes, a mile or so beyond Mont Estoril, this charming section of the coast being known as the Portuguese Riviera. It was evident that Dias was making for Estoril, and after about half an hour's drive his car came to a halt in the centre of that residential district about two miles beyond the Hotel do Parque and the Casino, with its palm-bordered walks and geometrically planned beds and borders of flowers. His conveyance pulled up before the Hotel da Pena, where he alighted and, having paid his fare, disappeared quickly into the reception clerk's office in the entrance hall. Vereker ordered his chauffeur to drive on to the market place at Cascaes, where he entered a small and stuffy wine shop. He shared a bottle of Collares with his driver, smoked a cigarette and was driven back to the Hotel da Pena. He had thus given Dias time to settle in before he himself made an appearance. He was greeted as he entered by the manager, Julio Roca, who had once been a waiter in Soho and who had known Vereker as a frequent diner at the little restaurant in Greek Street where he was employed.

“Still here, Julio?” remarked Vereker as he shook hands with his old acquaintance.

“Sim, senhor, always here now,” replied Julio.

“A gentleman called Miguel Dias has just arrived, I believe?”

“You know him, sir?”

“No, but I'm interested in his movements, Julio.”

“Ah, I see, I see, he is wanted at Scotland Yard?”

“Not at the present moment as far as I know. He may be wanted by them later. Keep an eye on him. Has he booked his room?”

“Yes, sir; No. 17 on the first floor.”

“Good. Is No. 16 vacant?”

“Yes, sir. You want No. 16?”

“Have my bag sent up there, Julio, and if I leave your hotel hurriedly send it down to the Blue Star agents, 10 Travesso do Corpo Santo, and ask them to put it on board the ‘Avila Star' immediately she arrives in Lisbon. I'm going to return to England by that boat if possible, and I'll leave enough money with you now to settle my debt to the hotel in case I depart without further notice.”

“That will be all right, sir. Have you dined?”

“No. I had something to eat before I came ashore and will turn in early. See that I'm wakened at seven o'clock.”

“All right, sir.”

“Is Mr. Dias going to dine, Julio?”

“Yes, sir. A gentleman has been waiting for his arrival, and a table has been reserved for them.”

“Thanks, Julio,” said Vereker and straightway went up to his room. He could hear movements in No 17, and presumed that Dias was dressing for dinner. A porter had brought up his trunk, deposited it and vanished. Vereker walked listlessly round his room, pondering over Julio's statement that Dias's arrival had been expected. Evidently Dias had had no intention of completing the pleasure cruise on the “Mars” before he started or had altered his plans during the voyage and communicated with his friend by wireless. Vereker had a shrewd suspicion as to the cause of this sudden disembarkation and visit to Estoril. There was nothing to do but to shadow Dias and get some confirmation. He quickly unpacked his bag, placed his belongings in a chest of drawers and hung his clothes in a wardrobe. Then he walked over to the wide-open window, quietly pushed one of the jalousies ajar and stepped silently on to the wooden balcony outside. Cautiously approaching Dias's window, he crouched down and peered through a crack at the bottom of the closed jalousies. Dias was dressed for dinner and was lounging in an easy chair smoking a cigar. Suddenly a knock sounded on his door and, jumping to his feet, he crossed the room, admitted a man and carefully locked the door. The two men greeted one another briefly in Portuguese and then advanced together till they stood directly under the electric chandelier in the centre of the room. Dias fumbled in his pocket and immediately produced something which he handed to his friend. Vereker was unable to see what this object was owing to the fact that Dias presented a back view to the window; but a few moments later the stranger altered his position and examined the object lying in his left hand under a more direct light. In his right hand he held a jeweller's magnifying glass. He laughed and nodded with evident appreciation and then extended his left hand. As he did so a ripple of dazzling light formed a loop in the air and swung scintillating from his finger. It was a magnificent cinnamon and white diamond necklace.

“Maureen's necklace at last, whoever Maureen may be!” thought Vereker, and as he crouched peering fixedly through the tiny interstice at the bottom of the wooden venetian blind, waiting for developments, a gust of wind rattled the blind noisily. Instantly both men turned towards the window and the necklace swiftly disappeared into the stranger's pocket. Guessing the cause of the noise, they both smiled sheepishly at one another, their alarm vanished and they resumed their conversation. Dias, however, was apparently one of those men who through experience or temperament leave as little to chance as possible. As they conversed he turned once more uneasily towards the blind and, determined to satisfy himself that they were not being spied on, quickly approached the window. In a flash Vereker retreated along the balcony and disappeared through his own window into his room, quietly closing the green jalousie behind him. He heard Dias fling open his jalousies, which swung outwards on hinges like a casement window, close them firmly and adjust the hooked catch.

Satisfied with his important discovery, Vereker lit a cigarette and listened to see if he could pick up any of the conversation proceeding in the next room. Owing, however, to the thickness of the walls and the lowered voices of the speakers, he could only hear a subdued murmur without gathering its purport. Seating himself in an easy chair, he decided to finish his cigarette, read a book and then turn in. He had hardly settled himself in his chair when the door was brusquely opened and Dias stepped briskly into the room. He glanced at Vereker without the faintest show of recognition.

“I'm very sorry, sir,” he exclaimed immediately in Portuguese. “I have made a mistake. I thought in my hurry that this was my apartment.”

“Il n'y a pas de quoi, monsieur!” replied Vereker, calmly resuming his reading, and Dias, with a “Sinto muito, senhor,” withdrew and closed the door behind him.

“So now you know!” soliloquised Vereker, smiling to himself, “and I think my French was about as stupid a bit of camouflage as your Portuguese, Mr. Dias!”

He immediately rose and, thrusting on his hat, was about to leave his room. The sound of voices still in conversation in the adjoining apartment made him decide to wait until Dias and his companion went down to dinner. He switched off his light and stood quietly at the door with ears alert for any indication of their movements. The two men had now ceased talking and utter silence reigned. Several minutes passed, and Vereker was beginning to wonder if the confederates had made a noiseless exit when his quick hearing detected the sound of a stealthy footfall on the balcony outside. He was now glad that he had closed his jalousies and switched off the light, for by so doing he had rendered it impossible for anyone to detect his presence in the darkened room from the balcony without. Very cautiously making his way to the window, he thrust open the wooden blinds with a swift movement and sprang lightly out. A full moon was high in the heaven, flooding the façade of the hotel with a pale light, which was intensified by the light coloured paint of the walls. In its radiance the whole length of the ornate wooden balcony could be clearly seen, but it was deserted and the blinds of Dias's room were closed. That room, moreover, was in darkness. The discovery gave Vereker a lively shock. Surely his ears had not deceived him? He paced the length of the balcony and peered into the garden below. The high enclosing walls of the hotel grounds, however, had converted that restricted and shrub-covered area into a well of gloom and it was impossible to detect the presence of a human being in the heavy, confusing shadows lurking there. Without further delay he returned to his room and descended quickly to the entrance vestibule. There he met Julio Roca standing with his hands behind his back as if expecting new arrivals.

“Ah, Julio, just the man I wanted to see. Did Mr. Dias and his friend go into the dining saloon?”

“No, sir, they have just gone out. They seemed in a hurry.”

“They didn't say where they were going?”

“No, sir.”

“Thanks, Julio,” replied Vereker and ran down the flight of steps into the front parterre of the hotel with its lawn and trimly tended flower beds. Passing rapidly out on to the white road he glanced round. A group of villagers stood gossiping together, silhouetted against the moonlit gable of an adjacent house; a mongrel lazily crossed the road and vanished down a dark, shadowy alley; a car whirled past on the main thoroughfare, sounding its horn with unnecessary vehemence, but he could see no sign of Dias and his companion. He hurried down the road leading to the station, passing a plantation of graceful eucalyptus trees on his right. The night air was laden with the spiced fragrance of these trees, with the odour of stocks and carnations and the haunting perfume of the long silver trumpets of the datura blossoms. The scene was magical. Here the villas standing in their own grounds with enclosing stone walls, down which fell cascades of pink roses and pelargoniums, flung mysterious little towers and minarets and cupolas against the dark blue of the sky, their walls adorned with faience plaques and friezes clearly visible in the light of the moon. Palms lazily waved their long, dark fronds caught in a warm breeze from the sea, which lay sparkling mistily below. An electric train rolled out of Estoril station and rattled away along the sweep of the coast, a gliding cordon of yellow fire. Vereker knew his way about and, having nothing particular to do, entered a little shop which sold sweets, tobacco and refreshments. He ordered a whisky and soda, chatted for a while with the proprietor and then, lighting a cigarette, sauntered up one of the main thoroughfares leading inland from the coast road. He had decided to walk for an hour or two before returning to his hotel. He soon passed out of the closely inhabited area into a region of isolated villas with extensive grounds. He was stepping briskly along, preoccupied with the bewildering features of the case on which he was engaged, when he stopped to admire the singular lines of a villa's architecture which stood out boldly above its palm clusters against the sky. As he did so he happened to glance backwards and notice a man, who had apparently been walking some twenty yards behind him, suddenly step off the pavement into the recess of a gateway and remain motionless under the cover of a tree shadow. The action, stealthy and swift, arrested his attention, and he came to the immediate conclusion that he was being followed. At once he experienced a thrill of excitement and a curious smile crossed his lean, alert face. Was the follower Dias or one of his emissaries? From the gait and build of the man which he had temporarily glimpsed he felt certain that it was Dias himself. If he were being shadowed he would lead the shadower a puckish dance. The change from hunting to being hunted was a new and stimulating experience. Proceeding a few hundred yards further, Vereker came to the open rolling country lying to the north and west of Estoril and, leaving the road, descended into a shrub-covered and rock-strewn dell. Glancing upwards he noticed the lonely pursuer coming swiftly along the road. There was no mistaking his figure; it was that of Dias himself. At that moment the latter halted, left the road and began to descend the slope into the dell, moving rapidly from clump to clump of thickly growing shrubs as if advancing to an attack and taking advantage of every piece of cover. The procedure at once informed Vereker of his folly in taking to this stretch of lonely downland. He was unarmed, and it flashed upon him that Dias was probably armed. Vereker had, however, roamed these hills and valleys often before and knew every inch of them. Even in the moonlight he could distinguish the clumped masses of Spanish iris growing only a few inches out of the hard, rocky soil and covered with blue blossoms. Here he had gathered bee-orchids, periwinkle, borage, asphodel, sorrel and numberless other wild flowers in his tramps with easel and canvas, but it was no occasion for reminiscence. Dias was swiftly approaching. Rising from his crouching position, Vereker dashed on to a boulder-strewn mule path and hurried up the next incline. Looking back he became aware that Dias was only fifty yards behind him and advancing rapidly. He broke into a steady trot and swung round a projecting hillock into a still wilder stretch of country. Here the slopes above the mule path were strewn with massive boulders and covered with a dense growth of shrubs, chief among which was a dwarf sharp-spined dog-rose. Not a dwelling or a human being was in sight. A small herd of goats grazing on the fine grass bordering the path disappeared into a tangle of briar, startled by his sudden approach. He stood for a few seconds wondering whether he should take cover or keep straight on. At that moment he felt a stinging pain in his left forearm and simultaneously heard the sharp crack of an automatic pistol. Simulating an agonised cry, he pretended to stagger into the dense growth at the side of the mule path and plunged forward with the skill of an acrobat. At once he began to scramble under cover up the slope, and when he had progressed some fifty yards he peered back to see if Dias was going to follow. In the clear light he saw his pursuer stand for a few moments, hesitate and then, turning, run back along the mule path till he disappeared round the projecting shoulder of the hillock. Either he thought he had settled accounts with his quarry or had suddenly realised the danger of standing in the open as a mark for his opponent, who had taken cover and might be stealthily approaching him. Vereker at once continued his ascent of the hill, and on reaching its summit caught a glimpse of Dias away down in the valley below the main road. He was returning to that road at a steady jog-trot. It was clear that for the moment all danger had passed, and Vereker immediately made his way back to the mule path from which he had ascended. There he pulled off his jacket and found, to his relief, that Dias's bullet had merely grazed the flesh of his left forearm. Binding it up with his handkerchief he slipped on his jacket again and pressed forward. A mile further ahead he saw above him the stone dyke bordering the secondary road which led down again towards Cascaes and the sea. Increasing his pace, he reached the dyke and followed it along till he came to an opening where a jet of water fell from the dyke into a stone trough beneath, for along the top of the dyke ran a covered-in water conduit. Thirsty from his exertion and excitement, he cupped his hands and drank. Resting until he felt thoroughly refreshed, he tramped at an easy pace down into Cascaes. Here he caught an electric train into Estoril and hurried up to his hotel. Julio was still presiding in the vestibule and, on seeing Vereker enter, rose from his chair and approached him. He was obviously excited.