from Chapter one:

They looked at the boat in dismay. They could see the bow and the stern, almost in one glance. None of their many crossings on scheduled liners –even as small as the Saxonia—had prepared them for this. Perhaps there was a mistake. But no, this was the Fulton Street pier, and the legend “Lisboa” was definitely painted on the dark gray hull in small white letters.

“We’re spending ten to twelve days on that? said Cynthia Bristol. “On the Atlantic Ocean?”

“It is smaller than I expected,” said Hugh Bristol, “but we’re good sailors; and I guess we should have realized that ‘4000 tons’ is one fifth the size of the Saxonia.”

A cab drew up and disgorged what could only be a family of Californians: A golden-tanned couple and a tow-headed girl of 6 or 7 carrying a large Snoopy.

“Mom! Mommy!” cried the child. “Look at the great big boat! Daddy! Is that our boat? Is that our boat?”

”Uh-oh,” said the Bristols under their breath as they went aboard.

A uniformed man who spoke reasonably good English greeted them and checked their names against a list in his hand. Then he spoke to a sort of cabin boy in rapid Portuguese. The boy whisked up their bags and led the way to their fate. Two smallish dark men standing close together watched them from a shadowy corner.

“Well! This isn’t bad at all!” said Cynthia as she took in their all-important new surroundings. “There really is a little sitting room. The bunks are pretty narrow, but –oh, let’s look at the bathroom. Yes, it’s all here: tub, shower, sink, john. It’s perfect actually.”

She looked out a window. There were two real windows, not portholes, as the suite was on the main deck of the freighter. “There’s that man again.”

“What man?” said Hugh. “I saw two men.”

“No, the other one. The one who was whistling. Pacing around.”

“Oh yes. Elderly fellow. Why don’t we unpack and go out on deck?” The experienced un-packer went to work, and then –

There was a noise of arguing outside the suite. It was the young steward and the California family.

“No, I’m sure this must be our cabin,” said the woman. “That other one is impossible for us. Please don’t keep on unpacking,” she said to Hugh. “I think you’re in our cabin.”

“I think not,” said Hugh stiffly.

“But there are three of us, and only two bunks in the first cabin he showed us.”

“Pardon me, Madam,” said the steward. “Thee third bunk folds up into thee bulkhead.”

“That won’t do at all. –Besides there is no private bathroom. We distinctly understood—”

“There is only one suite with private bath, Madam. This one.”

*



from Chapter Two:


“It doesn’t matter, Aunt Winnie,” said BethAnn, It’ll be OK. Really.”

“That’s all very well for you to say, but when you’re 70 years old you won’t appreciate going down the hall to the bathroom either.”

“It’s only two doors away.”

“But in the middle of the night, having to put your robe on –and mind you always wear your bathrobe—it’s a little hard--”

“There’s another one at the end of the hall,” said BethAnn.

“Yes, constantly occupied by that miserable child with the loud voice.”

Winifred Grantly was a comfortably fat old lady whose disposition was anything but comfortable. Her doubtful qualities were exacerbated by her present undertaking: chaperoning her teen-aged great-niece on her trip to the Azores, where she was to visit with her pen pal. Winifred would go on to Lisbon, where she had old ties; but her suspicious mind would not rest until she had delivered the buxom BethAnn, safely, to her destination.

“If only your father had booked our reservations sooner,” said Winifred, “but that’s always the way with him; everything at the last minute. Now those other people, who must have booked in January, have got the suite with the private bathroom. They will probably turn out to be horrid, touristy people.”

*


from Chapter Twenty:


BethAnn had awakened in terror. A hand was over her mouth and a voice said, “If you make a noise I will kill you. If you are quiet and do as I say, I will not hurt you.”

She struggled a bit, but the voice said, “I mean it. I have killed before and I will kill again. I have no mercy. Get up now, get your robe and come with me.”

Where was Aunt Winnie? She must have gone to the bathroom. BethAnn’s first thought was to get out of here quickly, for if her aunt saw what was going on she’d –no, there was no saying what she’d do –and the assassin might kill them both. There was no doubt in her mind that her captor was the assassin.

He whisked her along the passage and into his cabin. BethAnn could see no trace of the detective. She realized that this man was waiting for Aunt Winnie to return to her cabin. Yes, here she came; she had just shut the door. Would she notice anything? If she did, what would she do? Nothing so far. They waited for ten minutes and heard only the usual ship noises.

“You are perfectly safe, as long as you obey me. Soon we will go above and will hide in a lifeboat until morning, when they will come and find us.” The assassin seemed to think that statement of his purpose was sufficient, and said nothing more.

BethAnn was not satisfied. “Can I say something?”

“Very quietly, yes.”

“What happens when they find us?”

“I use you to help me escape; but you will not be harmed.”

“I never heard of such a cowardly thing!”

“One who would overthrow the tyrant Salazar is a hero, not a coward.”

“Heroes don’t hide behind young girls’ skirts!”