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Updated: June 18, 2025
Anne and her uncle were standing side by side on the deck of the steamship Caronia due to sail in an hour. Both had their eyes fixed on the dock below. Anne was looking at everything with eager interest. Her uncle, with as intent a gaze, seemed watching for something that he did not see. Presently he laid his hand on Anne's shoulder. "I'm going to walk about, Nancy pet," he said.
The detective closed his eyes, and smiled his quiet smile again. He opened his eyes, and fixed them on Mrs. Pett. "As pretty a case as I have come across in years," he said. "Mrs. Pett, let me tell you something. It is one of my peculiarities that I never forget a face. You say that this young man pretends to have landed this morning from the Caronia?
Then the Caronia wakened up, churned the brown water into foam, crept from the dock, picked her way among the river vessels, and sped on her ocean voyage. It was eight o'clock and a crisp, clear morning. A stewardess was offering tea and toast to Mrs. Patterson, the frail little lady whom Anne had observed in a wheel-chair the afternoon before. Seen closely, her face had a pathetic prettiness.
Mayo not long before the vessel sailed. A boy had brought a telegram for him. But a first-cabin lady had called the steward to move her chair. The chap said he was Mr. Mayo's office boy and could find him if he were on the Caronia. No one had seen Mr. Mayo after the boy brought this telegram. Evidently, some one had warned him that his guilt was discovered and he had hurried away to avoid arrest.
We should have met." "Don't call me Mr. Crocker," said Jimmy. "Call me Jimmy. Your mother's brother's wife's sister's second husband is my father. Blood is thicker than water. No, I came over on the Caronia. We docked this morning." "Well, there was a fellow just like you on the Atlantic," persisted Mr. Pett. Mrs. Pett said nothing. She was watching Jimmy with a keen and suspicious eye.
There's a boat that docks to-morrow the Caronia, I think. I've got a paper upstairs. I'll look it up. I can say I came by her." "That seems all right. It's lucky you and uncle Peter never met on the Atlantic." "And now as to my demeanour on entering the home? How should I behave? Should I be jaunty or humble? What would a long-lost nephew naturally do?"
As the Caronia is one of the most elegant and quite the most enormous of those small cities within themselves which we call apartment houses, I take it that Mr. Robinson is well-to-do, and probably married. You can ask him, yourself, if you like. He's due any moment, now." Promptly, as befitted a business man, Mr. William H. Robinson arrived on the stroke of twelve.
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