Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 36, No. 6, June 1991

Then Clay suddenly looked around him. He had been so intent on what he was writing that he had forgotten about De Jongh and the two musclemen. They were watching and glaring daggers at him. Unquestionably, they had a good idea what was in that letter, and to whom it might be addressed.

“Anne, give me back the letter.”

Anne Gardner thoughtfully glanced at De Jongh and the two hoodlums, then said, “No, I won’t.”

“Anne — those men. They’ve got to see you give me back the letter. You’re in serious trouble unless you do. You have no idea how much trouble.”

“I can imagine, Clay. But I’m keeping the letter anyway. If anything happens, I’ll mail it tomorrow in New York. If nothing does, I’ll give it back to you.” Anne defiantly stared De Jongh full in the eye — until the fat man dropped his gaze — then said, “It’s a kind of insurance for you, isn’t it, Clay? If they think I may mail the letter if anything happens to you, it’s less likely that something will happen, isn’t it?”

“At the cost of making it more

likely that something will happen to you. Give me back the letter.”

She would not return the letter and that was that, but people had now begun to stare. Clay grabbed Anne’s arm and led her quickly down to the swimming pool, where a group of sunbathers were clustered around. De Jongh and the two men followed.

It was the last day of the trip and several couples, dreading the ending of shipboard romances, were ardently kissing. Clay led Anne to a couple of vacant deck chairs, put his arms around her, and kissed her. Then he whispered in her ear.

“Anne, when the next group of people moves toward the front of the ship, I’m going to walk you to your cabin. Bolt the door and don’t let anybody in, not even your roommates. Make them bring the steward to get in. Tonight we’ve got to stay in crowds of people. We have to have people around us all the time. All the time. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“And, darling, I’m sorry, so sorry, that I’ve got you involved in this.”

“I’m not,” Anne said, and gave him a kiss that was full of promise.

That evening was a game of hunter and hunted. They dawdled through dinner, went early to the Captain’s Ball, and stayed late. All evening long, De Jongh and his hoodlums seemed right at their elbow. Clay could not read De Jongh’s mind, but it occurred to him that De Jongh must have just about made up his mind to commit murder and take his chances with Customs. He was a fool if he hadn’t, and De Jongh did not impress him as a fool.

Finally, the ship’s orchestra played the last note of music. The ball was over. Soon the crowd would be breaking up. What then? The moment Clay Felton had dreaded was approaching. Watching De Jongh from across the room, he fancied he saw a catlike look of anticipation on the fat man’s face.

Then Anne said unexpectedly in a lilting voice, “Surprise, everybody!” The gay banter hushed. Anne stood up. “Since this is the last night aboard ship, and a lot of us who have grown fond of each other might not see each other for long time...”

A chorus of groans greeted this dismal prospect.

“Some of us girls thought it would be silly to waste the last night sleeping, so we’ve arranged a deck party...”

Cheers.

“The stewards have set up a lot of chairs on the fantail. We thought we’d spend the last night watching the full moon...”

Wild cheers.

“We won’t go to bed at all. We’ll just stay on deck until we dock tomorrow...”

Pandemonium.

Anne and Clay led the parade back to the fantail. Perhaps two hundred deck chairs and robes were waiting.

Overwhelmed, Clay turned to Anne admiringly. “You’re a pretty clever girl.”

Anne smiled brightly. “Oh, you don’t know half of how clever I am, darling. I can cook and I can sew and do all the things that well brought up young ladies are supposed to be able to do.”

She led him to two deck chairs in the center. As they kissed, she whispered, “I don’t think those men would commit murder in front of two hundred witnesses, do you?”

“No. It isn’t likely.”

“Let’s forget all about them then, darling.”

The long night that Clay had dreaded turned out to be memorable — but in a way he had not expected. As Anne slyly pointed out to him, a good woman can smooth a man’s path in unexpected ways.

The Groot Vreeling docked at dawn. Plans had been made for Clay to be the first person off the ship. Perhaps he could get the jump on De Jongh and his men. He could get off the boat, pass Customs, disappear quickly, call Anne at her hotel later.

But after a night of romance, Clay found this was the bleak morning after. De Jongh and his men had anticipated him. They were waiting to disembark, too. He was trapped. In the struggling swirl of humanity getting off the boat, Clay found himself next to De Jongh and his musclemen all the way. They surrounded him. He handed in his landing card, showed his passport to Immigration, and displayed his yellow vaccination card to the Public Health Service man. Then Clay found himself at the head of the line for Customs inspection.