Was it too fantastic, now, to think the Jampot might be on board? And if he was? Well, Troy thought, she couldn’t for the life of her name her fancy. Figures, recalled by a professional memory, swam before her mind’s eye, each in its way outlandish—black patch, deaf ear, club foot and with a sort of mental giggle she thought: ‘If it’s Caley I’ve been kissed by a triple murderer and Rory can put that on his needles and knit it.’

At this point Mrs Tretheway’s little bell that she rang for mealtimes, tinkled incisively. Troy opened the door and heard Tillottson’s paddy voice and a general stir as of an arrival. While she listened, trying to interpret these sounds, the cabin door on her left opened and Mr Lazenby came out. He turned and stood on her threshold and they were face-to-face. Even as close to him as she was now Troy could make nothing of the eyes behind the dark glasses and this circumstance lent his face an obviously sinister look as if he were a character out of an early Hitchcock film.

‘You are better?’ he asked. ‘I was about to inquire, I’m afraid you were very much upset and distressed. As indeed we all are. Oh, terribly distressed. Poor soul! Poor quaint, kindly soul! It’s hard to believe she’s gone.’

‘I don’t find it so,’ Troy snapped.

She saw his lips settle in a rather sharp line. There was a further subdued commotion somewhere on deck. Troy listened for a second. A new voice sounded and her heart began to thud against her ribs.

‘If a poor parson may make a suggestion, Mrs Alleyn,’ Mr Lazenby said and seemed to peer at her. ‘I think perhaps you should leave the Zodiac. You have had a great shock. You look—’ The bell rang again. He turned his head sharply and the spectacles moved. For a fraction of a second Troy caught a glimpse of the left eye-socket behind its dark window. There was no eye in it.

And then she heard a very deep voice at the head of the companion-way.

Without thought or conscious effort she was past Mr Lazenby, out of the cabin, up the stairs and into her husband’s arms.

III

Of course it was an extraordinary situation. She could think: ‘how extraordinary’ even while her delight in his return sang so loudly it was enough to deafen her to anything else.

There had been some sort of explanation at large—introductions even—to whoever had been in the saloon followed by a retreat with Alleyn to her cabin. She remembered afterwards that they had encountered Mr Lazenby in the passage.

Now they sat, side by side, on her bunk and she thought she could cope with Catastrophe itself.