Free And the Deep Blue Sea by Charles Williams

torpor. After a few laps he mounted to the boat deck. Lind was on the wing of the bridge. Goddard made a gesture of greeting but didn’t go forward; as a passenger he had no right on the bridge unless invited. He was walking back and forth along the starboard side when the wireless operator came up the ladder aft and passed him with a blank stare. He was carrying a message form. At the same time Captain Steen emerged from the wheelhouse. He read the message, and called out to Goddard. Goddard walked forward.
    “It’s the confirmation from our agents in San Pedro,” Steen said. “They’ve received the deposit.”
    “Good. Fast work,” Goddard said.
    The wireless operator spoke to Captain Steen. “The station in Buenos Aires has a message for us, but I haven’t been able to raise him yet.”
    “Well, keep trying, Sparks,” Steen said. The wireless operator nodded and left. “Buenos Aires?” Steen said, puzzled. “I wonder what that could be. Unless it’s for one of the passengers.”
    “One of my girl friends wishing me a happy birthday,” Lind said. He winked at Goddard. “They pour in from all over the world.”
    Goddard went back to his cabin, mixed a pitcher of martinis, and lay back on the bunk propped on two pillows as he stared moodily up at the ceiling. So? After Manila, what? Where did you go from there? And why? Consider the noblest of the apes, he thought; the only rational animal, by his own admission. He throws in another gallon of adrenaline and goes bounding over the landscape like a goosed gazelle to save his life, and then after he saves it he stops and looks back and says, what the hell am I running for, my name’s not Smith. He was roused from these somber reflections by the sound of chimes in the passageway. He finished the martini and went back to the dining room. Karen and Madeleine Lennox were already there, standing talking to Captain Steen. He suddenly remembered he’d forgotten all about the drink he’d promised Mrs. Lennox.
    She hadn’t. Somewhat overdressed and made-up, she accused him archly as he walked in, “Mr. Goddard, I must inform you your verbal promise isn’t worth the paper it’s written on.”
    “Guilty, with extenuating circumstances, Your Honor,” Goddard said with a grin. “I dozed off.” He turned to Karen. “Mrs. Brooke, if I’m typical of the characters you save, I wouldn’t blame you if you went into some other line of work.”
    She smiled, and said, “I don’t believe you’ve met Mr. Egerton.” Goddard turned. Egerton had just entered behind him, looking very striking with the neat gray hair and moustache, the black eye-patch, and a white jacket over a white sport shirt. He shook hands warmly, and said, “Welcome aboard, Mr. Goddard.” Beaming at the two women, he added, “Sporting of you, I must say, to go to all that trouble so we’d have a fourth for bridge.”
    Lind came in then, and they sat down. Egerton was on Goddard’s left, next to Lind at the end of the table. This was the side of the table next to the bulkhead, so they were facing toward the doorway. Just as Captain Steen was about to say grace, Krasicki appeared in the door. He stopped abruptly, staring at Egerton. Goddard, watching him, was aware of something faintly disturbing about it. Krasicki gave a start then, and came on in. Karen spoke to him kindly.
    “I think you’ve met everyone except Mr. Egerton. This is Mr. Krasicki.”
    Egerton stood up and held out his hand. “Delighted, Mr. Krasicki. And happy to see you’re feeling better.”
    Krasicki mumbled something and shook hands. They sat down, Krasicki directly across from Goddard. Captain Steen said grace, and the steward began to take their orders. Egerton turned to Goddard, and said, “I understand you’re in the cinema.”
    “I used to be,” Goddard said.
    “He’s gathering material for his next opus,” Lind said. “ Across the Pacific on a Hot-Water Bottle .”
    There was a laugh, and Captain Steen