'How do you do, Mr Crumpacker?'

'Uh, glad to meet you, Mrs Graham. Congratulations to you, Alec you always could pick 'em.'

I said, 'Thanks. Sit down, Marga.'

'Just a moment, folks! Mrs Graham can't stay - really she can't! You know that.'

'I know no such thing. This time I'm going to have a witness.' No, I did not know that he was crooked. But I had learned long ago, in dealing with legislators, that anyone who tries to keep you from having a witness is bad news. So C.U.D. always had witnesses and always stayed within the law; it was cheaper that way.

Marga was seated; I sat down beside her. Crumpacker had jumped up when we came in; he remained standing. His mouth worked nervously. 'I ought to call the Federal prosecutor.'

'Do that,' I agreed. 'Pick up the phone there and call him. Let's both of us go see him. Let's tell him everything. With witnesses. Let's call in the press. All of the press, not just the tame cats.'

(What did I know? Nothing. But when it's necessary to bluff, always bluff big. I was scared. This rat could turn and fight like a cornered mouse - a rabid one.)

'I should.'

'Do it, do it! Let's name names, and tell who did what and who got paid. I want to get everything out into the open... before somebody slips cyanide into my soup.'

'Don't talk that way.'

'Who has a better right? Who pushed me overboard? Who?'

'Don't look at me!'

'No, Sammie, I don't think you did it; you weren't there. But it could be your godson. Eh?' Then I smiled my biggest right-hand-of-fellowship smile. 'Just joking, Sam. My old friend would not want me dead. But you can tell me some things and help me out. Sam, it's not convenient to be dumped way off on the other side of the world - so you owe me.' (No, I still knew nothing... nothing save the evident fact that here was a man with a guilty conscience - so crowd him.)

'Alec, let's not do anything hasty.'

'I'm in no hurry. But I've got to have explanations. And money.'

'Alec, I tell you on my word of honor all I know about what happened to you is that this squarehead ship came into Portland and you ain't aboard. And I have to go all the way to Oregon f' God's sake to witness them breaking into your strong-box. And there's only a hundred thousand in it; the rest is missing. Who got it, Alec? Who got to you?'

He had his eyes on me; I hope my face didn't show anything. But he lad hulled me. Was this true? This shyster would lie as easily as he talked. Had my friend purser, or the purser and the captain in cahoots, looted that lockbox?

As a working hypothesis, always prefer the simpler explanation. This man was more likely to lie than the purser was to steal. And it was likely - no, certain - that the captain would have to be present before the purser would force his way into the lockbox of a missing passenger. If these two responsible officers, with careers and reputations to lose, nevertheless combined to steal, why would they leave a hundred thousand behind? Why not take it all and be blandly ignorant about the contents of my lockbox? - as indeed they should be. Something fishy here.

'What are you implying was missing?'

'Huh?' He glanced at Margrethe. 'Uh - Well, damn it there should have been nine hundred grand more. The money you didn't pass over in Tahiti.'

'Who says I didn't?'

'What? Alec, don't make things worse. Mr Z. says so. You tried to drown his bagman.'

I looked at him and laughed. 'You mean those tropical gangsters? They tried to get the boodle without identifying themselves and without giving receipts. I told them an emphatic no - so the clever boy had his muscle throw me into the pool. Hmm - Sam, I see it now. Find out who came aboard the Konge Knut in Papeele.'

'Why?'

'That's your man. He not only got the boodle; he pushed me overboard. When you know, don't bother to try to get him extradited, just tell me his name. I'll arrange the rest myself. Personally.'

'Damn it, we want that million dollars.'

'Do you think you can get it? It wound up in Mr Z's hands... but you got no receipt. And I got a lot of grief from asking for a receipt. Don't be silly, Sam; the nine hundred thousand is gone. But not my fee. So pass over that hundred grand. Now.'

'What? The Federal prosecutor in Portland kept that, impounded it as evidence.'

'Sam, Sam boy, don't try to teach your grandmother how to steal sheep. As evidence for what? Who is charged? Who is indicted? What crime is alleged? Am I charged with stealing something out of my own lockbox? What crime?'

"What crime?" Somebody stole that nine hundred grand, that's what!'

'Really? Who's the complainant? Who asserts that there ever was nine hundred thousand in that lockbox? I certainly never told anyone that - so who says? Pick up that phone, Sam; call the Federal prosecutor in Portland. Ask him why he held that money -on whose complaint? Let's get to the bottom of this. Pick it up, Sam. If that Federal clown has my money, I want to shake it loose from him.'

'You're almighty anxious to talk to prosecutors! Strange talk from you.'

'Maybe I've had an acute attack of honesty. Sam, your unwillingness to call Portland tells me all I need to know. You were called out there to act on my behalf, - as my attorney. American passenger lost overboard, ship of foreign registry, you betcha they get hold of the passenger's attorney to inventory his assets. Then they pass it all over to his attorney and he gives a receipt for it. Sam, what did you do with my clothes?'

'Eh? Gave 'em to the Red Cross. Of course.'

'You did, eh?'

'After the prosecutor released 'em, I mean.'

'Interesting. The Federal attorney keeps the money, although no one has complained that any money is missing... but lets the clothes out of his hands when the only probable crime is murder.'

'Huh?'

'Me, I mean. Who pushed me and who hired him to? Sam, we both know where the money is.' I stood up, pointed. 'In that safe. That's where it logically has to be. You wouldn't bank it; there would be a record. You' wouldn't hide it at home; your wife might find it. And you certainly didn't split with your partners Sam, open it. I want to see whether there is a hundred thousand in... or a million.'

'You're out of your mind!'

'Call the Federal prosecutor. Let him be our witness.'

I had him so angry he couldn't talk. His hands trembled. It isn't safe to get a little man too angry - and I topped him by six inches, weight and other measurements to match. He wouldn't attack me himself - he was a lawyer - but I would need to be careful going through doorways, and such.

Time to try to cool him - 'Sam, Sam, don't take it so seriously. You were leaning on me pretty heavily... so I leaned back. The good Lord alone knows why prosecutors do anything - the gonif most likely has stolen it by now... in the belief that I am dead and will never complain. So I'll go to Portland and lean on him, hard.'

'There's a paper out on you there.'

'Really? What charges?'

'Seduction under promise of marriage. A female crewman of that ship.' He had the grace to look apologetically at Margrethe. 'Sorry, Mrs Graham. But your husband asked me.'

'Quite all right,' she answered crisply.

'I do get around, don't I? What does she look like? Is she pretty? What's her name?'

'I never saw her; she wasn't there. Her name? Some Swede name. Let me think. Gunderson, that was it. Margaret S. Gunderson.'

Margrethe, bless her heart, never let out a peep - not even at being called a Swede. I said in wonderment, 'I'm accused of seducing this woman ... aboard a foreign-flag vessel, somewhere, in the South Seas. So there's a warrant out for me in Portland, Oregon. Sam, what kind of a lawyer are you? To let a client have paper slapped on him on that sort of charge,'

'I'm a smart lawyer, that's the kind I am. Just as you said, no telling what a Federal attorney will do; they take their brains out when they appoint 'em. It simply wasn't important enough to talk about, you being dead, or so we all thought. I'm just looking out for your interests, letting you know about it before you step in it. Gimme some time, I'll get it quashed - then you go to Portland.'