Free Murder on the Celtic by Conrad Allen Page B

interesting and knowledgeable.”
    â€œNothing else?”
    â€œI didn’t have much conversation with him, Lady Bulstrode. Over dinner last night — and breakfast this morning — he spent most of the time discussing, with your husband, race meetings he’d been to in England. He’s been to the Derby three times.”
    â€œRupert hasn’t missed a Derby in fifty years.”
    â€œI’ve only been to one,” confessed Genevieve.
    â€œYou might well improve on that score, Miss Masefield.”
    â€œHow?”
    â€œBy being invited to attend this year’s race,” said Lady Bulstrode with another smile. “You may have thought that Mr.Cleves was more interested in horses than anything else, but I believe that he’s conceived another passion as well.”
    â€œFor what?”
    â€œFor
you,
my dear. Unless my intuition has deserted me, Joshua Cleves is smitten.” Opening the lid of the box, she offered the chocolates. “May I tempt you?”
    â€œNo, thank you.”
    â€œI can’t resist them.”
    While her companion chewed away, Genevieve reviewed her two meetings with Joshua Cleves. There had been a glint of admiration in his eyes on both occasions, but she was accustomed to that reaction from men. Because he had not tried to monopolize her, she had assumed that Cleves was not overly interested in her. Then she remembered the conversation that morning with Frank Spurrier and the disparaging remarks he had made about his American friend. Like Spurrier himself, she decided, Cleves would need to be watched.
    The concert started with a Rossini overture that was followed with piano selections from Beethoven, Chopin and Liszt. A lighter note intruded when one of the senior officers gave a rendition of Stephen Foster songs in a pleasing tenor voice. The orchestra took over again, to be followed by a member of the crew who was a competent amateur ventriloquist. But the real surprise of the afternoon was the appearance of Nelson Rutherford. Accompanied by the piano, the purser revealed himself to be a gifted clarinetist, delighting the audience with a variety of popular melodies.
    After the chairman had made his closing remarks, a collection was taken for a seamen’s charity, then the concert ended with the playing of “The Star-Spangled Banner” and “God Save the King.” The applause was sustained and well earned. Genevieveclapped as enthusiastically as anyone while Lady Bulstrode took the opportunity to slip another chocolate into her mouth. Eventually, they rose to leave. It was only when she turned around that Genevieve realized with a start that she knew the man who had sat directly behind her.
    â€œDid you enjoy the concert, Miss Masefield?” he asked.
    â€œVery much,” she replied.
    â€œMe, too.”
    Frank Spurrier gave her a meaningful smile.
    Sophie Trouncer’s face was distorted by an expression of disbelief.
    â€œYou missed the concert this afternoon?” she said.
    â€œI’m afraid so,” Dillman admitted.
    â€œThen you missed an absolute treat. Didn’t he, Mother?”
    â€œOh, yes,” May Hoyland confirmed with a roll of her eyes. “It was wonderful — especially the purser on his clarinet.”
    Dillman was astonished. “Mr. Rutherford took part?”
    â€œHe was the star of the whole show.”
    Never having met a musical purser before, Dillman found the notion rather difficult to envisage. Playing the clarinet was something that he would never have suspected Nelson Rutherford of doing, but he was prepared to accept the word of two witnesses. They were at their table in the first-class dining saloon, and since formality had taken over, the room was filled with a dazzling array of evening dresses and jewelry. Like the rest of the men, Dillman had donned his white tie and tails. Seated opposite him at the table were Sophie Trouncer and her mother, though, since