“And how are you to know when the bombs come on board the yacht?”
“You must tell us.”
“Yes.” The monosyllable was dull, indifferent. “But how am I to know? And how am I to tell you? This man is no fool. He is only foolish in wanting his mistress”—she spat the word out—“when so much else is at stake.” She paused. “These people have chosen badly. Largo cannot live without a woman within reach. They should have known that.”
“When did Largo tell you to come back on board?”
“Five. The boat is coming to fetch me at Palmyra.”
Bond looked at his watch. “It is now four. I have this Geiger counter. It is simple to use. It will tell at once if the bombs are on board. I want you to take it with you. If it says there is a bomb on board, I want you to show a light at your porthole—switch the lights on in your cabin several times, anything like that. We have men watching the ship. They will be told to report. Then get rid of the Geiger counter. Drop it overboard.”
She said scornfully, “That is a silly plan. It is the sort of melodramatic nonsense people write about in thrillers. In real life people don’t go into their cabins and switch on their lights in daylight. No. If the bombs are there, I will come up on deck—show myself to your men. That is natural behavior. If they are not there, I will stay in my cabin.”
“All right. Have it your own way. But will you do this?” “Of course. If I can prevent myself killing Largo when I see him. But on condition that when you get him you will see that he is killed.” She was entirely serious. She looked at him with matter-of-fact eyes as if he were a travel agent and she were reserving a seat on a train.
“I doubt if that will happen. I should say that every man on board will get a life sentence in prison.”
She considered this. “Yes. That will do. That is worse than being killed. Now show me how this machine works.” She got to her feet and took a couple of steps up the beach. She seemed to remember something. She looked down at the bracelet in her hand. She turned and walked down to the edge of the sea and stood for a moment looking out across the quiet water. She said some words that Bond couldn’t hear. Then she leaned back and with all her strength threw the gold chain far out over the shoal into the dark blue. The chain twinkled briefly in the strong sun and there was a small splash. She watched the ripples widen and, when the smashed mirror was whole again, turned and walked back up the sand, her small limp leaving footmarks of uneven depth.
Bond showed her the working of the machine. He eliminated the wrist-watch indicator and told her to depend entirely on the telltale clicking. “Anywhere in the ship should be all right,” he explained. “But better near the hold if you can get there. Say you want to take a photograph from the well deck aft or something. This thing’s made up to look like a Rolleiflex. It’s got all the Rolleiflex lenses and gadgets on the front, lever to press and all. It just hasn’t got a film. You could say that you’d decided to take some farewell pictures of Nassau and the yacht, couldn’t you?”
“Yes.” The girl, who had been listening attentively, now seemed distracted. Tentatively she put out a hand and touched Bond’s arm. She let the hand fall. She looked up at him and then swiftly away. She said shyly, “What I said, what I said about hating you. That is not true. I didn’t understand. How could I—all this terrible story? I still can’t quite believe it, believe that Largo has anything to do with it. We had a sort of an affair in Capri. He is an attractive man. Everyone else wanted him. It was a challenge to take him from all these other smart women. Then he explained about the yacht and this wonderful trip looking for treasure. It was like a fairy tale. Of course I agreed to come. Who wouldn’t have? In exchange, I was quite ready to do what I had to do.” She looked briefly at him and away. “I am sorry. But that is how it is. When we got to Nassau and he kept me ashore, away from the yacht, I was surprised but I was not offended. The islands are beautiful. There was enough for me to do. But what you have told me explains many small things. I was never allowed in the radio room. The crew were silent and unfriendly—they treated me like someone who was not wanted on board, and they were on curious terms with Largo, more like equals than paid men. And they were tough men and better educated than sailors usually are. So it all fits. I can even remember that, for a whole week before last Thursday, Largo was terribly nervous and irritable. We were already getting tired of each other. I put it down to that. I was even making plans for flying home by myself. But he has been better the last few days and when he told me to be packed and ready to come on board this evening, I thought I might just as well do as he said. And of course I was very excited over this treasure hunt. I wanted to see what it was all about. But then”—she looked out to sea—“there was you. And this afternoon, after what happened, I had decided to tell Largo I would not go. I would stay here and see where you went and go with you.” For the first time she looked him full in the face and held his eyes. “Would you have let me do that?”