Mr Parker Pyne leaned over the rail of the steamer and looked at the lights of Palma. Beside him stood Dolores Ramona. He was saying appreciatively:

‘A very nice piece of work, Madeleine. I’m glad I wired you to come out. It’s odd when you’re such a quiet, stay-at-home girl really.’

Madeleine de Sara, alias Dolores Ramona, alias Maggie Sayers, said primly: ‘I’m glad you’re pleased, Mr Parker Pyne. It’s been a nice little change. I think I’ll go below now and get to bed before the boat starts. I’m such a bad sailor.’

A few minutes later a hand fell on Mr Parker Pyne’s shoulder. He turned to see Basil Chester.

‘Had to come and see you off, Mr Parker Pyne, and give you Betty’s love and her and my best thanks. It was a grand stunt of yours. Betty and Mother are as thick as thieves. Seemed a shame to deceive the old darling–but she was being difficult. Anyway it’s all right now. I must just be careful to keep up the annoyance stuff a couple of days longer. We’re no end grateful to you, Betty and I.’

‘I wish you every happiness,’ said Mr Parker Pyne.

‘Thanks.’

There was a pause, then Basil said with somewhat overdone carelessness:

‘Is Miss–Miss de Sara–anywhere about? I’d like to thank her, too.’

Mr Parker Pyne shot a keen glance at him.

He said:

‘I’m afraid Miss de Sara’s gone to bed.’

‘Oh, too bad–well, perhaps I’ll see her in London sometime.’

‘As a matter of fact she is going to America on business for me almost at once.’

‘Oh!’ Basil’s tone was blank. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘I’ll be getting along…’

Mr Parker Pyne smiled. On his way to his cabin he tapped on the door of Madeleine’s.

‘How are you, my dear? All right? Our young friend has been along. The usual slight attack of Madeleinitis. He’ll get over it in a day or two, but you are rather distracting.’

The Second Gong

The Second Gong

Joan Ashby came out of her bedroom and stood a moment on the landing outside her door. She was half turning as if to go back into the room when, below her feet as it seemed, a gong boomed out.

Immediately Joan started forward almost at a run. So great washer hurry that at the top of the big staircase she collided with a young man arriving from the opposite direction.

‘Hullo, Joan! Why the wild hurry?’

‘Sorry, Harry. I didn’t see you.’

‘So I gathered,’ said Harry Dalehouse dryly. ‘But as I say, why the wild haste?’

‘It was the gong.’

‘I know. But it’s only the first gong.’

‘No, it’s the second.’

‘First.’

‘Second.’