Читать книгу Alistair MacLean Sea Thrillers 4-Book Collection: San Andreas, The Golden Rendezvous, Seawitch, Santorini - Alistair MacLean, Alistair MacLean, John Denis - Страница 20

Half an hour later McKinnon joined Margaret Morrison in the small lounge off the mess-deck. She was pale and unsmiling but looked composed enough. He sat down opposite her.

‘How do you feel now?’

‘Bit sick. Bit nauseated.’ She half-smiled. ‘Dr Sinclair seemed to be more concerned about the state of my mind. I think that’s well enough.’

‘Fine. Well, not fine, it was a damnable thing to happen to you, but I feel less like commiserating with you than congratulating you.’

‘I know. Janet told me. I’m not one for mock shudders, Archie – but, well, he could have done, couldn’t he? I mean, cut my throat.’

‘He could have done. He should have done.’

‘Archie!’

‘Oh God, that wasn’t very well put, was it? I meant that for his own sake he should have done. He may just possibly have given away enough rope to hang himself.’

‘I don’t understand what you mean.’ She smiled to rob her words of offence. ‘I don’t think anyone understands quite what you mean. Janet says you’re a very devious character.’

‘Be you white as snow, etcetera. Only the truly honest get maligned in this fashion. A cross one has to bear.’

‘I have difficulty in seeing you in the role of martyr. Janet said you had lots of questions to ask me.’

‘Not lots. Just one. Well, a few, but all the same question. Where were you this afternoon before we stopped?’

‘In the mess-deck. Out there. Then I went to relieve Irene just before the lights went out.’

‘Anyone enquire about the health of the patients in Ward A when you were out there?’

‘Well, yes.’ She seemed faintly surprised. ‘I often get asked about the patients. Natural, isn’t it?’

‘This late afternoon, I meant.’

‘Yes. I told them. Also natural, isn’t it?’

‘Did they ask if anyone was asleep?’

‘No. Come to think of it, they didn’t have to. I remember telling them that only the Captain and First Officer were awake. It was some sort of joke.’ She broke off, touched her lips with her hand and looked thoroughly chagrined. ‘I see. It wasn’t really such a joke, was it – it let me in for half-an-hour’s involuntary sleep, didn’t it?’

‘I’m afraid it did. Who asked the question?’

‘Wayland Day.’

‘Ah! Our pantry boy – ex-pantry boy, I should say, and now your faithful shadow and worshipper from afar.’

‘Not always as far away as you might think, gets a little embarrassing at times.’ She smiled and then was suddenly serious. ‘You’re barking up the wrong tree, Archie. He may be a bit of a pest, but he’s only a boy and a very nice boy. It’s unthinkable.’

‘I don’t see a tree in sight. Agree, unthinkable. Our Wayland would never be a party to anything that might harm you. Who were the others at your table? Within hearing distance, I mean.’

‘How do you know there was anyone else at my table?’

‘Margaret Morrison is too clever to be stupid.’

‘That was stupid. Maria was there –’

‘Sister Maria?’ She nodded. ‘She’s out. Who else?’

‘Stephen. The Polish boy. Can’t pronounce his surname – no one can. Then there were Jones and McGuigan, who are nearly always with Wayland Day – I suppose because they are the three youngest members of the crew. Two seamen by the name of Curran and Ferguson – I hardly know them because I hardly ever see them. And, yes, I seem to remember there were two of the sick men we picked up in Murmansk. I don’t know their names.’