The Mask of Sumi (5 page)

 

Melody Yesling,
alias
Mary Yates, sat in her cabin on board the S.S.
East Africa Star
as it neared Gibraltar on the following Tuesday, and stared at the incredible beauty of the mask on the dressing-table. The beauty was beyond question, yet there was something quite repellent about it.

It was a mask and yet there was something almost human in the set of the features.

Or something sub-human.

She did not touch it, just stared as if fascinated. It was in the shape of a round human face, with sockets for the eyes and a slash for the mouth; there was no opening for the nose, only a kind of protuberance in which the nose would fit.

The mouth opening was lined, at both top and bottom lip, with rubies. They glistened in the dressing-table light like blood. The eye-sockets were encrusted with emeralds, and in the centre of the brow was a big diamond, shimmering and glistening. The ears were made of some semi-precious stone which Melody did not recognise. Little clusters of rubies and sapphires covered the cheeks, and on the chin, like a clipped beard, was gold worked so beautifully that it looked almost like a man's hair.

The mask had affected the woman strangely from the moment she had first seen it –
after
she had left the hotel in Bayswater. That had happened so long ago that it was like something in a dream and only partly remembered. At the time there had been the excitement of danger and the elation of success, but now she hardly remembered the face of the little Oriental whom she had fooled so successfully.

Someone passed outside the window.

The cabin was on A Deck, and there was a promenade walk all around here, used mainly by Tourist class passengers. The window had plain glass on one side and a frosted glass shutter on the inside; this was closed and fastened. It was very hot in the cabin despite the air from the louvres, the whirring fan, and the vents of the shutter.

A man was saying: “And I said to him, he ought to come and spend a year in Kenya. He'd soon change his tune.”

“It's a waste of time arguing with them. They don't understand.”

The voices and the footsteps died away.

Melody looked away from the mask into the mirror. She was shocked by her own pallor. It was absurd, but the mask had that effect on her. She hated it already. It seemed touched with malevolence and evil. She told herself that this was her own ridiculous way of seeing it; no inanimate thing could be malevolent.

She glanced down and it seemed as if a living face was glaring up at her. She gave a little shiver, picked up a sandalwood box which was very light, and opened it. The mask fitted inside, face downwards. Some kind of spongy material lined the oval-shaped hole in which it sat. She picked it up gingerly, for she had been afraid of dropping it ever since she had brought it away from the Compton Hotel. She placed it into its receptacle carefully, and closed the lid. Almost at once she felt better.

“I need a drink!” she exclaimed, and rang for her steward.

While waiting for him, she thought over all that had led up to this. She worked for an obscure jewel merchant who specialised in Oriental jewellery – a man named Harding, Jimmy Harding. She wasn't exactly in love with Jimmy but that hadn't stopped them from having an on-off kind of affair for over a year. She had learned that he dealt in stolen jewellery, and the realisation had shocked her at first, but gradually she had come to accept it. She had lost count of the number of pieces of jewellery she had sold to unsuspecting people, usually visitors to London. It was quite easy: a casual acquaintance, talk of jewellery, talk of a bargain—

Melody had become very skilled at the business.

When Jimmy had told her about Toji, she had not been greatly worried. Someone whom Jimmy knew in Bangkok had sent the coded cable with the information, and Jimmy had been sure it was reliable. She had to meet Toji, say she was Mannering's confidential secretary, and take the jeweller to the Compton Hotel where, she knew, Jimmy had booked a room under the name of Mannering. Jimmy had seen to everything: her ticket to Gibraltar, a hotel for a night, then a flight home unless she received other instructions at Gibraltar.

The first thing she had not bargained for was the death of Toji. Why had the old fool had to kill himself? It had shocked her badly when someone had talked about that at dinner; one of her seven table companions who had heard about Toji's death on the radio.

The second thing she had not bargained for was the effect of the mask on her. Even in its beautifully smooth and perfectly-made box, it seemed to leer.

“Nonsense!” she said aloud.

A moment later there was a tap at the door and the steward, small and dark-skinned, came in with her drink. She smiled at him as she always smiled at men. When he had gone she drank half the whisky in one gulp, then sipped the rest slowly. She felt tired. She had been up too late last night, dancing with Jimmy.

A tall, blond man going back to his farm in Kenya would have taken her to his cabin if she had given him the slightest encouragement. She was almost sorry that she hadn't felt in the mood.

She yawned.

Perhaps half-an-hour's sleep would do her good.

She slipped out of her cotton dress, a pattern of sunflowers on green, and stood for a moment looking at her reflection in the mirror. She certainly had a figure which the Kenya farmer hadn't missed. She loosened her brassiere, pictured the blond farmer, smiled, yawned, and got on the bed.

Soon, she was asleep.

Soon, she was dead.

 

The door of Melody Yesling's cabin opened. A man appeared, looking round the door. He was short and olive-skinned, and wore a dark serge suit, rather like a cabin boy's. He peered round the door and saw the recumbent figure of the girl. He came in, closed the door, and locked it. He moved to her side and felt her pulse; his sharp-featured face was expressionless. He nodded, then took out a small cardboard pill-box. He handled this with great care, placing it between the dead girl's thumb and forefinger. He made two or three different impressions this way, then took the box – careful to hold it by the edges. He opened the girl's handbag and dropped the box inside.

Next, he picked up the sandalwood box, opened it, took out the mask and stared at it. For the first time, he showed some expression; he smiled. Then he wrapped the box up in a sheet of brown paper and tucked it under his arm.

 

Mannering stood near the Moorish Castle on Gibraltar, looking out to sea. Along a steep, narrow road to his right was a road leading to the old galleries, where Gibraltar had withstood the sieges of old wars, and had added each time another powerful reason why the Rock should be forever British. In front of Mannering the tower of the Moorish Castle, built a thousand years before the British had arrived, might by the same token argue that the Moors should hold the Rock this very day.

Mannering wasn't thinking of any of these things; he was watching the open sea. Several vessels seemed to float on a faint blue haze which rose off the water. One, larger than the rest, was a single-funnelled vessel, with good lines but a very large black and white funnel. The hull was painted white. This was the
East Africa Star.
He judged that it would be half-an-hour before the vessel lay to, and perhaps an hour and a half before the tender brought the passengers ashore, some to stay, some to spend a few hours ashore before hurrying to the ship for the next stage in their voyage.

Mannering turned round to his taxi. The driver was standing by it, a short, burly man in a sky-blue shirt and khaki trousers.

“You want to see St. Michael's Cave, now, mister?”

“Later,” said Mannering. “Take me to the Rock Hotel, please.”

“Yes, sir.” The taxi man beamed. “St. Michael's Cave is very big. Whole operas play there. You should see it.”

“Later,” Mannering insisted firmly.

He stepped out of the taxi ten minutes later. Men were working on the Rock Hotel, and half-a-dozen were squatting, hammering and banging. Beyond these, two couples were sitting and drinking on a pleasant terrace. Mannering went into the cool, modern hotel, and asked the receptionist: “Is there any message for me, please?”

“Yes, Mr. Mannering. Your wife telephoned. She will call you again at eleven o'clock. She said it is a very urgent matter.” The receptionist leaned forward. “There is much excitement on Gibraltar today, Mr. Mannering.”

“Is there?”

“There is some reason to think a criminal is on board the
East Africa Star,
” the receptionist declared in a hushed voice. “The police are to meet the ship. No one may bring anything off without it being examined. Customs will be
very
strict.”

“Oh,” said Mannering. “I wonder what that's all about.”

He went up to his room, uneasy as he had been from the beginning of this case. He had flown in the previous evening, and the Public Relations officer of the Government of Gibraltar had arranged the room for him here and given him every facility.

“If there is anything else I can do just tell me,” he had said. “If it's possible, I'll fix it.”

Mannering stepped to the window. He could not see the ship from here but he could see the bay, and some of the harbour installations. An aeroplane seemed to catapult past his window. He was wondering what the police were after and telling himself it could not be anything to do with Melody Yesling when his telephone bell rang.

“A call from London for you, Mr. Mannering.

There was a pause. Then: “Is that you, John?” It was Lorna.

“Hallo, my sweet!”

“John, have you heard?”

“I shouldn't think so.”

“They know the girl's on the
East Africa Star
!”

“Who knows?” asked Mannering.

“Bristow and the police,” said Lorna. “Bristow telephoned to ask where you were. He said they had traced the blonde, a Melody Yesling who called herself Mary Yates, to the ship, and were going to pick her up at Gibraltar.”

“Well, well!” said Mannering softly.

“You don't seem very excited.”

“I'm being wise after the event,” said Mannering. “If I'd told Bristow about that label I'd be in his good books. Did you tell him where I was?”

“No.”

“He'll probably find out,” Mannering said. “But don't let him find out from you. How is Pearl Toji?”

“She seems very well,” Lorna said. “I don't really know what's going on behind those sad eyes of hers, but I think she's content to stay here until you get back. She's had two visits from Consular officials. They're taking it very seriously. Have you read Larraby's notes on Sumi?”

“I know them backwards,” Mannering said.

“As far as I can judge they give you the reasons why everyone is so worried,” Lorna said.

“Did Bristow say anything else?” asked Mannering.

“He's sent Chief Inspector Gordon to Gibraltar with a photograph of the blonde,” Lorna said. “Darling, try not to get too deeply involved too soon. If it
is
a political matter you'll be in trouble.”

“You mean I'll be out of my depth,” Mannering said drily. “It looks as if Gordon will pick up the girl and the mask here, and that will be that. Don't worry, my sweet.”

When he rang off he had a real feeling of deep dissatisfaction, almost of frustration, which he could not shrug off. He thought over Larraby's notes on the situation in Sumi. That tiny kingdom had become a republic only a year ago – and the operation had been so trivial by normal standards that no one had taken much interest in it. Sumi, however, was in an important strategic position in the Laos–Thailand part of the world. There were reports that some of Prince Asri's family were not really democratic and wanted the dynasty to be revived. Asri himself appeared to be a sincere democrat but this did not make him popular with his family.

Nor had his marriage to a girl from a good but not blood royal Thai family. Princess Kana was a courtesy title.

There was no doubt that the mask and the jewels had great cash value, probably well over two million pounds. But was that sufficient to affect the economy even of a tiny state? Or were political strings being pulled?

Lorna obviously thought so.

Bristow may have thought so, too.

These were not the only reasons for disquiet. Mannering had planned to find and to follow Melody Yesling, but if she was picked up by the police it would certainly be better to keep out of the way. It was defeat, of a kind. He knew Chief Inspector Gordon, a man who had very little time or liking for him, and it would be wise if not palatable to avoid an encounter. Yet to fly back tamely to London wasn't at all the way he wanted to meet his obligation to the dead man.

Mannering checked the aircraft time tables and was about to call the booking agency when there was a tap at his door.

“Come in,” he called.

The door opened on Dottie Mills, taking him completely by surprise.

“Why Mr. Mannering, what a
surprise
to find you here!” she exclaimed. She strode towards him, right hand outstretched. “How
do
you do? And what a wonderful view. Superb. Can you see the
East Africa Star
from here?”

“I'm told that you can't,” Mannering replied, heavily.

Dottie pressed close to the window.

“Oh,
what
a shame!” She swung round on him, face thrust forward. “When my editor heard you had flown here, he told me to hurry in your wake. Do you
really
think those diamonds will be brought off at Gib?”

“It's possible.”

“So many things are possible, aren't they?” said Dottie. “Even the most unlikely coincidences! Such as Nikko Toji wanting to see you, and a
darling
little Thai girl visiting you in London, and the disappearance of that ridiculous mask, too. Masks always remind me of Hallowe'en. Don't they you?” She beamed into Mannering's face. “Are you after this Melody Yesling, Mr. Mannering? The news broke early this morning and my editor thought it worth sending me here on a charter aircraft, knowing how well-disposed you are towards me.”