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THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
Winner of the $2000 Red Badge-Forum
Detective Story Prize Contest.
By CLIFFORD KNIGHT
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB was chosen as the win-
ner of the $2000 Red Badge Mystery Prize for 1937, the
competition in which over three hundred new manu-
scripts were entered. It is a story which will meet the
exacting requirements of connoisseurs and at the same
· time send many a spine-chilling thrill up their back-
bones.
South from California sails a gleaming pleasure yacht,
carrying aboard a strangely assorted group of persons,
men and women, friends and strangers, enemies and
lovers, who have abandoned their shore pursuits in a
common love of science. South steams the ship, through
the warm Pacific waters, into the chill range of the Hum-
boldt Current, to that bizarre, isolated archipelago, the
Galapagos Islands-once a haunt of whalers, now of a
few lonely fishermen, goats, giant turtles and an out-
landish crustacean, a crab as red as blood. Human pas-
sions, roused in the clash of personalities aboard the
questing vessel, prove stronger than the spirit of science,
and suddenly the peaceful floating laboratory is a center
of violence and death.


THE RED BADGE BULLETIN
A quarterly Bulletin giving current and advance
information about Red Badge books, publishing
communications from authors and readers, discuss-
ing trends and conducting interesting puzzles and
competitions, is issued quarterly. It is intended for
"the enlightenment and enjoyment of mystery and
detective story connoisseurs" and will be sent free
of charge upon request.
Would You Like to Know
how RED BADGE books are selected?
Each year, hundreds of detective-story manu-
Dodd, Mead and Company. From these only a
imprint. This is because every detective story that
carries the Red Badge must first pass a rigid eight-
point test—so severe that all but absolutely first-
class mysteries are eliminated.
If you would like to receive this eight-point test,
we will be glad to mail you a copy without charge.
Dodd, Mead & COMPANY, Inc.
Department RB
449 Fourth Avenue, New York


The Red Badge $2,000 Prize Mystery
AFFAIR OF THE
THE AFFA
SCARLET
CRAB
CLIFFORD KNIGHT
DODD, MEAD & COMPANY
NEW YORK
1937


COPYRIGHT, 1937
BY DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, INC.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
NO PART OF THIS BOOK MAY BE REPRODUCED IN ANY FORM
WITHOUT PERMISSION IN WRITING FROM THE PUBLISHER
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
BY THE VAIL-BALLOU PRESS, INC., BINGHAMTON, N.Y.


TO
JESSAMINE PARET KNIGHT





It was three o'clock on Wednesday afternoon that the
strange head appeared above the top of the dazzling
white garden wall. It was a well-shaped, rather round
head and the hair on top was blond. A neat blond mus-
tache a little thicker than a debutante's eyebrow was
lodged above full red lips; the cheeks were very bronzed,
the nose quite masculine. But the arresting thing about
this sudden and unexpected appearance of the head was
its extraordinary air of earnestness.
"I say, you're Bartlett, aren't you?" was the question
fired at me without preliminary.
I sat up hurriedly on my blanket where I had been
lying in the bright California sunshine in what I thought
was the privacy of the yard.
"Why, yes,” I answered. “That's my name.”
"You're something of an ornithologist.” The roundish
head lifted higher and a pair of thick shoulders clad in a
lemon-colored polo shirt came into view.
I drew my legs under me. The sun was warmly caress-
ing my bare back. I didn't know this fellow on the wall
who was trying to talk to me in this abrupt fashion. But
At least twenty times during the course of the story the
shadow of the murderer is cast across the page. At the back
of the book is a sealed insert containing an index of these
clues. As you read note the clues and at the end check your
list against the author's.


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
he'd made the statement, almost an accusation, that I
was an ornithologist, and his manner indicated that he
doubted I could successfully deny it.
"Something describes it,” I answered. “Something of
an amateur. It's just a hobby with me.”
"You're the fellow I'm looking for. I'm Lanfrey-
Carlos Lanfrey. I live back of you here," and he jerked
his head in the direction of the house whose red tile roof
was visible among the live oaks across the top of the wall.
"Yes,” I said, my mind becoming more active. “There
was a picture or something in the Los Angeles Times
this morning. Something about an expedition"
"Oh, that,” he said, making a gesture with a ham-
like fist. “That's why I'm here. Saw somebody taking a
sunbath from my bedroom window. Thought it might
be you, so I came right over to see if you would like to
take a little trip with me. I telephoned Chandler, the
curator at the Museum, to recommend an ornithologist
and he said you were good. Gad! Here you were living
right here and I've been nuts all morning wondering
what I was going to do. Can you get ready right away?"
"I'm not getting ready to do anything. Where was it—?"
“Oh-it's just down to the Galapagos Islands,” he said
hopefully. “Be gone a couple of months, maybe. Longer
if we decide to. Had a fellow who knew all about birds.
From the Museum,"
"You mean Risner?”
"Yeah. Took sick last night. They operated on him
this morning and he'll be laid up for six weeks. We can't
wait. All his traps are aboard. Get what clothes you want
and I'll drive you down to the harbor when I go. We sail


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 3
at six.”
“Galapagos?”
"Yes. Ever been down there?"
"Once. It's interesting enough, but I'm comfortable
here in San Marino. I've been thinking I'd stay here in
Southern California until fall.”
He seemed disappointed and a bit incredulous.
“There isn't anything wrong with you? Physically?
So that you have to take sunbaths?” he asked.
"No."
“Gorell is going, and French and Ardleigh. Top men
in their lines,” he continued hopefully.
The sun was warm on my back; the peacefulness of
the yard with its flowers already had cast a spell upon
me; the soft contours of the San Gabriel Mountains
looming up beyond Carlos Lanfrey's house across the
wall were soothing. Here was Lanfrey, sportsman and
amateur scientist, hanging over the wall with a request
that I leave this peaceful retreat in San Marino and go
off on a scientific expedition at a moment's notice. I
was too comfortable. I was never given to precipitate
action. It wasn't that I was, so to speak, second fiddle in
Lanfrey's plans. For Risner was by far the best man that
could be chosen for such work. And birds with me, after
all, were only a hobby begun in high school and kept
going through the years since. I wouldn't have cared if
the Museum had recommended Corbin or Hal Trim-
ble. They could do as well as I so far as the scientific
work was concerned.
Carlos Lanfrey turned on whatever he was standing
on, on the other side of the wall, and looked away. He


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
rubbed his forehead with his right hand, a gesture that
suggested he was stumped. A final argument occurred
to him. A shadow crossed his face, a self-accusing expres-
sion appeared about his blue eyes.
"I apologize,” he said. “I should have thought of it
before. But I was so interested in getting you that I
didn't think. But, please, feel free to bring anybody
along with you that you want.” His face brightened.
“Your wife-there's plenty of room on the Cyrene. My
wife is going. Gorell is taking Mrs. Gorell. There's an-
other woman-Alice Wilmer-a scientific artist,"
“Thanks, but I'm not married.”
"Well, anybody else then. Your sister. Friend. Crony.
There's plenty of company for them. Huntoon Rogers
from the University,"
"Not Hunt Rogers?” I said.
"Yeah. Know him?".
“Yes. But what's a professor of English doing on a
scientific expedition?"
"Oh, Hunt's just a supercargo. I like him and he
needs the rest. He's been working hard."
"The old skate,” I said. “I've been wanting to talk
to him."
Carlos Lanfrey's face had brightened engagingly; his
smile developed into a chuckle. He made a move as
though to disappear behind the wall that separated his
place from that of my sister, with whom I lived.
“I'll be by for you in about an hour,” he said. “I've
got to get down to San Pedro as soon as I can.”
With that last word his head disappeared completely.
I hadn't said definitely that I would go. I merely had


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
said I'd been wanting to talk to Hunt Rogers. But why
not? It was only for a couple of months. Other plans
I had been slowly maturing could wait. At least I
shouldn't be lonely if Hunt Rogers was a member of
the party, and I had always meant to go back to the Ga-
lapagos for a second look.
My sister Marjory's voice floated to me through the
upper hall inquiringly: "What's all the row about,
Benny? Lose something?"
Perhaps I had been making considerable of a stir as
I gathered my stuff together. “It's nothing," I called out
reassuringly to her. “Just packing up.”
"Packing? What for?”
“Leaving."
“Where to?"
“Down to the Galapagos for a couple of months with
Carlos Lanfrey.”
There was no sound for a moment and then her de-
termined footfall clicked on the floor of her room and
came along the upper hall to my quarters. I looked up
and Marjory's slim figure stood in the doorway. Mar-
jory is young and beautiful and something of a Sybarite,
loathing the thought of primitive places. She looked at
me rather challengingly.
“Did I hear you correctly?” she inquired.
"I presume so."
"But you just got back from Mexico."
"What of it?"
She took a new tack: “I didn't know you knew Carlos
Lanfrey.”
"I don't. Never saw or heard of him until he climbed


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
up on the back fence and introduced himself."
"Is Carlos taking that yacht of his?"
"I didn't ask him. Didn't know he had a yacht. But
there's probably some such means provided for the expe-
dition.”
“Carlos has just married a new wife. Eight months
ago. Number three.”
"He said he was taking her.”
“Number two divorced him because he was always
running off to queer places. And I don't blame her."
“Interesting,” I commented. “But not important."
Marjory picked up my cigarettes and lit one. "How
soon are you starting? Tomorrow?"
"No. Today. In a few minutes,” I answered, glancing
at the clock.
"What is there down at Galapagos that's so interest-
ing?”
“Unusual flora and fauna. The unanswered question
of how it got there. Shells. Fish. Birds. Reptiles. A natu-
ralist's paradise"
I was interrupted by the sound of the chimes at the
front door, and I heard the Filipino houseboy going to
answer it as I crammed the last shirt into my bag and
locked it.
"But, Benny,” Marjory's voice suddenly held a note
of dismay. “The Fernalds are coming for dinner and
bridge. They're bringing Betty for you,"
“Call up Eric Meeker,” I said. “Tell him I said he's to
substitute for me. Good-bye,” and I kissed her and went
down stairs to one of the strangest and most terrifying
experiences any man has ever had.


I am not a seafaring man, and ships have never meant
anything to me except as a means of transportation. But
even so I am not insensible to their charms. When we
came in sight of the Cyrene II as she lay at her dock, an
exclamation of pleasure escaped me. The sheer beauty
of her lines, the rakish smartness of her appearance, the
chunk she must have knocked out of Lanfrey's bank roll
amazed me. Carlos Lanfrey's eyes shifted from the yacht
to me, a slow smile appeared upon his full red lips.
“Like her?” he inquired proudly.
“She's a beauty," I answered.
"Right you are. Two hundred and eight feet over
all,” he said, and then I could see that his mind was on
other things, as indeed it had been nearly all the way
down from San Marino to the harbor. He had sat with
the chauffeur checking over a mass of data he carried
in his pockets, leaving the rear seat to me and my lug-
gage.
We drew up on the open dock near the gang-plank,
and Lanfrey leaped out. “Clark will put your luggage
on board,” he said, indicating the chauffeur. “And make
yourself at home. I'll be busy for a while. I'll introduce
you at dinner time. We won't eat till we get outside
the breakwater."


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
With that he left me. I followed my stuff on board
where a steward took it in charge. He was a neat, soft-
spoken man of about thirty-five, with blond hair and
two prominent gold teeth when he smiled. He had the
appearance of extraordinary efficiency.
“I am Starr, the steward,” he said, touching his cap.
"You have cabin number 10. I'll show you—" He picked
up my stuff.
“Take it on down," I said; “I'll find the room later."
"Yes, sir. Thank you.” He whisked away, sagging
under the weight of my stuff.
Stores were still coming aboard. Last minute things
that clutter up the dock just before sailing time. A num-
ber of persons were idling about on the dock, some of
whom plainly were members of our party. I saw Ard-
leigh and waved to him from my place at the rail. As
I stood there a small coupé drove rapidly down the
roadway and turned in upon the dock. Two persons
alighted, a man and a woman. A few minutes later the
coupe drove away and I noted the efficient Starr, although
how he had arrived on the scene I did not know, bent
under the load of luggage, piloting them up the gang-
plank.
The man was young, possibly thirty, tall, muscular and
dark. He had a sensitive under lip and bushy eyebrows.
The woman was youthful. Indeed almost a girl. But her
carriage was businesslike, her step confident and sure.
She was amazingly beautiful; a perfect blonde with blue
eyes that almost seemed to speak.
As the couple passed me she turned to her companion
and said: “Is all your stuff on board, Jack?"


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
"Yep,” he answered. “This morning. Stowed in the
laboratory. They've fixed up a regular studio for me.
You'll have to see it.”
“I want to see it-later," the girl replied. They disap-
peared, leaving me to reflect upon the pleasing quality
of her voice. Here was a girl I wanted to know, and oddly
enough I was glad she was going with us.
Dr. Gorell and Dr. French came aboard. I knew
French. He introduced Gorell, a pudgy, oldish man with
a dark, masklike visage. His small eyes gleamed from be-
hind gold-rimmed glasses. French was a sort of enigma
to me, a tall, red-haired, freckled enigma, as silent almost
and a man of extraordinary ambitions. He was an all
around naturalist, but lately had been confining himself
to marine life. Both Gorell and French were from the
University, and I recalled that Gorell was head of the
department with which both were identified.
As we stood talking, Mrs. Gorell came hunting her
husband. Gorell introduced me. She was a woman well
along in middle years, with a dark fleshy face and a fat,
dumpy body. She had an abrupt, almost blunt manner
of speech. It was not difficult to imagine that she had held
her own in many a social battle among the faculty on the
campus. Her small dark eyes bored through me.
"Bartlett?" she repeated my name. "Are you one of
“My home is in San Marino,” I said.
"Humph!” she grunted, but whether from approba-
tion or disapproval I'll never know. She ended in taking
herself off with Gorell and French, and I returned to my


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
11
“Aren't you excited?” demanded the girl, talking with
her eloquent blue eyes as well as with her lips.
“About leaving?"
"Yes, of course.”
"I suppose so. Usually, however, on leaving my native
land my mood is one of solemnity. It is now."
She looked directly at me, her eyes searching mine.
The faintest shadow of uneasiness flashed across her face;
her hand let go the rail and made a gesture towards her
throat.
"Oh, you're joking,” she said, and laughed. “I've been
so excited for days that I've hardly slept at all. When Dr.
French said I was to go I threw my arms around him and
kissed him. It nearly embarrassed him to death. Isn't it
wonderful to go adventuring on a yacht like this? Isn't
it?” she demanded.
"Oh, yes. Imagine, though, wasting kisses on French."
She didn't say anything to that. An odor of roasting
meat came from the galley forward, mingled with the
cool salt breeze. The sun had been swallowed by the sea
as we talked, although its rays still lingered on the two
peaks of Santa Catalina Island to our right, and on the
now distant San Gabriel range to the north.
"What is your specialty?" inquired the girl. “I've met
everybody but you. Are you taking Dr. Risner's place?”
“Yes. As best I can."
“What's your name?”
“Bartlett. Benny for short."
“I'm Alice Wilmer,” she said.
“May I inquire what you do?”
“I'm the artist. I paint the strange creatures of the


12
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
vasty deep for Dr. French; I catch the ethereal, the elu-
sive colors before they fade-".
“Of course. There was a young chap who came aboard
with you-"
"Jack Quigley?"
"You called him Jack. What does he do?"
"He's the photographer. Takes stills and motion pic-
tures. Mr. Lanfrey got him from one of the film studios in
Hollywood. We live in the same apartment hotel in Hol-
lywood. That was his sister who drove us down to San
Pedro. She and I room together.”
“Have I got them all, do you know?" I asked. “There's
Gorell and Mrs. Gorell. And French and Ardleigh. You
and Jack Quigley. And Lanfrey."
"You left out Mrs. Lanfrey."
“That's so. Have you seen her?”
“No, but Mrs. Gorell said she was aboard.”
"You could count on Mrs. Gorell to know that_”
"Oh, yes, and there's a strange man in a brown suit.
He's got funny ears,"
“Hunt Rogers,” I said. “Now why would I forget
Hunt? Are you sure he's aboard?”
“Yes. He was in his bunk groaning when we were com-
ing down the fairway. I said: 'Can I help you, sir?' and
he said: 'Yes, please; by getting out.' He was very polite
for a sick man.”
“That's Hunt,” I said. “He gets green at the sight of a
bucket of water."
"Who is he?"
"Teaches English at the University."


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
"Why did they bring him?"
“I asked Carlos Lanfrey that, and it's because Hunt
needs a change. Been working too hard."
“I'm going to like you,” the girl said suddenly.
“That goes double,” I said, and meant it.
“I thought at first I wasn't going to. You looked too
much like a crab; and somebody said you were swell
rich-
"Neither swell nor very rich,” I corrected her. “I can't
afford a yacht like this.”
"Well,” she said, a bit breathlessly. “Nobody else but
Carlos Lanfrey could own a boat like this. He's worth
millions, isn't he?"
"Hungry?" I asked, as the tantalizing odor from the
galley was wafted to us again on the salt air.
“I could eat anything."
"Lanfrey said we'd eat as soon as we got outside the
breakwater."
She looked back along our wake at the rapidly vanish-
ing harbor. The purple shadows of night were gathering
upon the mountains rising ever higher in the back-
ground. A tall figure swung along the deck towards us.
The girl said:
"Hello, Jack. This is Mr. Bartlett, Mr. Quigley."
We shook hands. He had a frank, pleasing manner and
impressed me as thoroughly resolute and self-reliant, the
kind of fellow who could make his way alone.
"Isn't dinner ready, Jack?" asked the girl.
“Almost," answered Quigley. “I came by the dining
room just now and they look just about all set.”


14
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB.
“There! Listen!” exclaimed the girl.
The soft notes of a gong were sounding inside; a mo-
ment later Starr stepped out upon the deck caressing the
dinner call with a soft mallet as he walked hurriedly
along


FEW scientific expeditions had ever put to sea more
luxuriously than we. My previous trip to the Galapagos
had been on a serviceable ship but with cramped quar-
ters and less than average food; there had been much ef-
ficiency and something suggestive of discipline. But here
on the Cyrene II I had only the feeling of a luxury cruise.
The table, as we entered the beautifully paneled dining
saloon, glittered with crystal and silver. However, that
was Carlos Lanfrey's business. Even though he was very
rich, and his hobby was the leading of small scientific ex-
peditions into out-of-the-way places on a palatial yacht,
there wasn't anything to be done about it. My thoughts
were interrupted by Alice Wilmer at my elbow.
"Who am I to criticise?” she murmured.
“Stow it,” I said to her. “This is one of the hardships
you'll have to endure.” For which she smiled at me. I
was very sure I was going to like her.
Seriously, though, I did wonder as I took my place
whether anything worth while would be accomplished
against this background of splendor.
At the head of the table, standing very tall in gold
braid, Carlos Lanfrey was waiting for us to take our
places. I presume he had planned to say something by
way of formal greeting on our first assembly. But if he
15


16 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
had, the opportunity was lost when Mrs. Gorell picked
up her glass and proposed a toast to the success of the ex-
pedition, to the genius of the men assembled, to Carlos
Lanfrey as an intrepid leader of men, to the sturdy ship,
to the dear ones at home, and to Old Glory. I noted an
expression of irritation flicker on the masklike visage of
Gorell as he listened to his spouse's determined but ill-
timed toast. When she had quite finished we drank it
down, and then took our seats. I imagine there might
have been other toasts had not Mrs. Gorell seemed to
have covered the ground so thoroughly.
In the moment of settling a strange woman appeared
among us, passed along behind me and sat down at a va-
cant place. She was a striking looking person, somewhere
in her middle thirties. She was dark and slender for her
height, for she was tall. Simply gowned, there was, how-
ever, an ineffable air of smartness about her. Perhaps it
was the fine nose and forehead, possibly the little wisp of
gray that was brushed back from her right temple in her
dark hair; anyhow, something stamped her as a thorough-
bred is stamped.
“My dear,” said Carlos Lanfrey, looking directly at her
with a welcoming smile on his full red lips, "I want you
to meet these interesting people. Mrs. Lanfrey," he said,
addressing us. He began at his right and went round the
table with the introductions. Her brown eyes met mine
when my name was pronounced, but there was no
warmth in them, only cold, rather indifferent appraisal.
"Mr. Bartlett," Lanfrey addressed me at the conclusion
of this formality, "you perhaps need introducing to
some-


18
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
“I'm starving!"
“Are blondes always hungry?" I asked Alice Wilmer.
"This one is hungry now.”
"Here's Starr. Good old Starr with food," I said, as the
efficient Starr set a plate before her. If he heard me he
gave no sign, but with the help of a boy went on serving
the plates.
It was not until we were waiting for the dessert and
cigarette smoke was perfuming the air that the table as a
whole got back to business again. This time it was Ard-
leigh. Ardleigh long had been top in geology at the Uni-
versity. I once had been a student under him, and I knew
the old boy, or I thought I did. He was past sixty, but be-
yond a few gray hairs and a slight wrinkling of the skin
of his cheeks like an apple that is beginning to dry out,
there was nothing to indicate his advancing age. He had
piercing gray-green eyes beneath overhanging brows, a
nose that curved like a handle, the hard lips of a turtle,
and his tall slender body seemed strengthened with re-
enforcing steel.
“Is he as mean as he looks?" whispered Alice Wilmer.
“On the contrary. Get him away from his field and he
is a mewing kitten. Don't cross him on his subject,
though.”
“What is he?”
“Geologist. He knows all the answers.”
“Of everybody here,” she said softly, “I think I like
Dr. Gorell the least. And his wife-".
"Woman's intuition?"
She shook her head and lighted a cigarette.
“I've been wondering, Captain Lanfrey,” Dr. Ard-
Ceci.


20
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
a land bridge to Mexico or Central America in ancient
times over which the flora and fauna of the islands came,
or whether it was ocean borne. One thing led to another.
We got to talking over men who might profitably be sent
to the Galapagos, and I said that I had two or three
months free and the yacht which I would be willing to
offer if he would name the members of the expedition.
And so that's rather the beginning of this thing,"
"Of course,” said Ardleigh, drawling slightly, and
flicking the ash from his cigarette, “this expedition is not
prepared to settle the old problem of how the archi-
pelago got its flora and fauna, whether over an ancient
land bridge or by sea transport-"
Dr. Gorell, who until now had been silent, suddenly
thrust out his lower jaw. The gold-rimmed spectacles
astride his nose seemed almost to sparkle with the fire in
his small eyes, they gleamed so belligerently.
“There's only one explanation of how those islands
were supplied with life.” His voice seemed to bite. “It
was by sea transport. The Humbolt Current-other cur-
rents, perhaps, in prehistoric times—man himself—”
"Well, now, Gorell,” drawled Ardleigh, a faint smile
on his hard lips, “there's the Galapagos Tortoise, for ex-
ample. It's a land animal. Can't swim. It wouldn't be
caught in the first place on a raft of driftwood; if it were
it wouldn't survive the hundreds of miles it had to drift
to reach those islands—".
"You don't use your head, Ardleigh,” snapped Gorell.
"You overlook the fact that the Galapagos Tortoise is a
toothsome meal to any man, modern or prehistoric.
There's evidence all around the Pacific of prehistoric


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
21
men-of their movements. Suppose they put the tortoise
on the islands for a future food supply, just as in more
modern times Captain Cook and the navigators of his
day left goats and pigs and cattle on the various islands of
the South Seas—"
"It's possible that could have happened with the tor-
toise,” said Ardleigh, snuffing out the fire of his cigarette
stub in an ash tray with a bit more energy than was
necessary.
"It's plausible,” said French, speaking up for the first
time, “adaptive changes no doubt—".
"Plausible?” almost shouted Gorell. “It can't be de-
nied. Sea transport and adaptation is the answer. It's
reasonable-more so than that there once was a land
bridge between mainland and the Galapagos. Why go so
far back in geologic time when it's not at all necessary? It's
bosh, Ardleigh. It's tommyrot!"
A hand touched my arm and a voice whispered softly
in my ear: “Is he mad at anybody, do you think?”
"Do you want my cake?” I asked, shoving it towards
Alice Wilmer to keep her quiet. As a matter of fact,
though, she had asked the question that was in my own
mind. Dr. Gorell had launched upon something more
than a friendly argument; there was irascibility there,
almost there was animus. I noted a swift expression of
anger cross the countenance of Ardleigh. French moved
uneasily in his chair. But more interesting than either of
these evidences of feeling was the fat dark face of Mrs.
Gorell. Her lips were set, her eyes almost glittered;
nervously but abstractedly with her spoon she was cut-
ting at her cake as though with each dig she were inflict-


22
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
ing a mortal wound upon an enemy.
It was puzzling to me. I've seen raw nerves react from
the tedium of long expeditions, observed the clash of
personalities rendered explosive by the accretion of small
irritations. But such incidents came only towards or at
the end, not at the beginning. There long have been two
schools of thought as to how the volcanic Galapagos were
supplied with animal and vegetable life. These schools
have been opposed in their views for at least forty years.
So this late date was no time for heat over a question so
academic as this one.
I puzzled over the thing alone on the after deck where
I went when dinner was concluded. With a cigarette and
the gentle wash of the wake for company I began to won-
der if I hadn't been rash in accepting Carlos Lanfrey's
offer to accompany the expedition. Far down upon the
dark horizon was the faint glow in the sky cast by the
lights of the tremendous area of Los Angeles and the
harbor cities. If there was lack of harmony in the expedi-
tion at the outset, what possibly could be accomplished?
A figure passed me, making a turn around the after
deck. I called.
“Yes, sir," was the quick response.
"Is it you, Starr?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Bartlett. What may I do for you?"
“It's a nice night.”
“Beautiful night, sir." He drew up in the darkness to
my side.
“Are you still on duty?”
“I'm always on duty, sir, if you wish something."
“But you have this time to yourself,"


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
"Yes, sir. I am taking my constitutional.”
“After all the luggage, and the serving of dinner?"
“Yes, sir. I must keep in good trim. I seem to need
more exercise than most men, sir. I was at one time in the
prize ring.”
“What were you?"
“Light heavy, sir. But it meant only pork and beans
and I was glad to come with Mr. Lanfrey. I've saved
money-"
"All right, Starr, go ahead with your constitutional.
Don't let me interfere. But first tell me in what state-
room I'll find Professor Huntoon Rogers.”
"In seventeen, sir.”
“Thank you, Starr. Good night."
"Good night, sir."


For a while longer I continued on deck. Perhaps it was
in character with Carlos Lanfrey, I mused, to pick up a
pork and beans fighter to make of him a steward aboard
his yacht. My cigarette end went over the rail, a mere
spark that flickered out in the vast darkness below. I
lighted another and continued with my thoughts.
Voices not engaged in conversation, but voices that spoke
only in monosyllables and only at intervals. It seemed
the sound came from a rear porthole on the deck below.
I moved farther along the rail to escape it, for, it dis-
turbed my thoughts, inconsequential as they were. I
couldn't get away from the scene at dinner when Gorell
warmed up so over a mere difference of opinion. Ard-
leigh I had known for ten years. French was a newer
acquaintance, but of three years' standing. I had never
laid eyes on Gorell before until tonight, but I had known
him by reputation as an outstanding naturalist whose
specialty was conchology. He was at the University. That
reminded me that Hunt Rogers probably knew him.
And I hadn't seen Hunt yet.
I tossed my cigarette over the rail, walked the short
distance to the companionway and went down to the
deck below. Starr had said Rogers was in seventeen. As


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 25
my foot touched the deck I observed a stateroom door
partly open. Not wide, but sufficient, as I walked past it,
to give me a view of practically the entire room. Whose
room it was I did not know, but guessed it was Quigley's,
for he was there. I didn't linger in the passageway; I
merely saw what I saw as I walked by. Indeed I could not
help seeing
Quigley, wearing a dressing gown, was in the room.
And Starr and the boy who had helped him serve dinner,
and a strange young man who from his dress was one of
the crew. All four were bending over a table across which
a counterpane from the bed had been drawn and they
were shooting craps. Quigley was shaking the dice in his
shut hand close beside his ear. He rolled them out upon
the table. There was considerable money on the counter-
pane.
I walked onward towards Rogers' stateroom. Gam-
bling aboard ship was inevitable, I supposed. I've talked
with seamen who have told me of the gambling among
the crew that goes on forward at the start of any voyage,
and subsequently whenever there's any money. And I've
sat in more than once in the smoking room in a friendly
game. But here was the point that disturbed me as I
walked on down the passageway. Quigley was a member
of the expedition; not a principal member, but neverthe-
less an important one, since he was the photographer. It
was in very poor taste for him to start gambling with the
crew. He couldn't be excused on the grounds of youth,
for he looked to be thirty; not only that, but apparently
he had been around and knew his way about.
In my disturbed state of mind I passed Hunt Rogers'


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 27
nose was large. He had a powerful frame, standing close
to six feet in height.
At the moment I sat down in the chair, however, few
of these features were obvious. The man looked more or
less a wreck. His hair was tousled, his glasses were on the
night stand, his hands concealed his prominent ears, and
his large frame was slumped in the depths of dejection.
“I feel better than I did,” he said hopefully. “But tell
me how you happen to be here.”
“That's easy. I was invited and I accepted," I replied,
going on to relate how Carlos Lanfrey had importuned
me over the garden wall that afternoon.
“That's like Carlos,” he commented. "He's a man of
action; more the warrior than the gentle poet-the con-
templative spirit is far removed from him.” His voice
was dull and lifeless.
“This is a fine way for you to rest up; seasickness does
such wonders to the system-" I began with mild sarcasm.
“Now, don't do that, Benny,” he protested. “I'll get
over it. I always have recovered along about the time I've
begun to hope I won't.” He actually forced a smile. "I
passed that point half an hour ago.”
“I came down to talk to you about the personnel of
this expedition," I said, “but I see I'll have to let it
wait-"
“There's a dish of dried beef and crackers on the table
there,” he said.
"I see it.”
“Will you bring it to me? Starr provided it. My stomach
is empty."
I carried the dish over to him, and he took a cracker


28
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
and nibbled it. Presently he had eaten it all. He next
tried a piece of salty dried beef. It stayed down. I could
see that he was recovering. The boat was rolling slightly
and there was less pitch than at dinner time. He didn't
seem to notice it now. Finally he said: “It's the smell
around the harbor, that brackish odor; it's the first few
hours aboard; it's the anticipation of seasickness that
actually induces the illness. When I am out away from
land and get over the first attack, then I'm all right. I feel
like going up on deck now.”
He picked up his glasses and put them on, smoothed
down his hair. I carried the dried beef and crackers, and
together we went down the passageway and up to the
after deck. The door to Quigley's room was closed when
we passed it, but I heard inside the murmur of voices
and concluded that the gambling still went on.
"We're well away from land, are we not?” asked
Rogers, as we hooked our elbows on the rail.
“Quite."
There was no longer the glow of lights from land.
Save for the few illuminated areas on the deck, there was
everywhere a vast darkness about us; the ship under a few
dim stars moved onward in what seemed sheer nothing-
ness.
"What did you want to ask me about the personnel of
the expedition?" inquired Rogers, the dry sound of
crackers in his mouth.
"Have you met them all?".
"I don't know. I don't think so. Name them over, if
you've met them."


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 29
"All right. Stop me when I name somebody you don't
know. Carlos and Mrs. Lanfrey, Dr. Ardleigh, Dr.
French-"
“French is merely an acquaintance,” he interrupted.
“Dr. and Mrs. Gorell, Jack Quigley and Alice Wil-
mer," I went on.
“I've not met Miss Wilmer.”
“I'll introduce you. She looks interesting.”
“Thanks. Is that all?”
"I think so-except for ourselves.”
“Now, whom did you want to ask me about?"
“Gorell.”
He was silent, except for the sound of crunching
crackers. I repeated the name.
“I heard you,” he said. “Why do you pick on him?"
There was the sound of a chuckle.
"He seems—" I began.
“He not only seems; he is,” he laughed. “I told Carlos
when he said Gorell was coming, that it was a mistake.
He said Chandler had named him and as he had agreed
to accept Chandler's selections, there wasn't anything to
be done about it. This objection, you understand, isn't
on scientific grounds. Gorell rates high; he is a brilliant
fellow. But he's narrow; and I wonder sometimes if his is
what you'd call the scientific temperament. What's he
done?”
"Made a little scene at dinner," I said, detailing the
argument for his benefit. “It was uncalled for. Absolutely.
Seemed to me he just felt like a fight.”
Rogers didn't say anything for a moment. I felt his


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
if the cruise lasts long enough,” he chortled. “I've been
meaning to do it for a long time.”
“That's a swell vacation,” I said.
"Suits me. While you're climbing around on volcanic
isles, I'm going to be lying in the shade reading.”
Far to port the lights of a vessel appeared dimly, the
merest flicker in the darkness. We stopped at the rail and
studied its faint rays, but could make nothing of it.
“Probably a coasting vessel,” remarked Rogers. “We're
standing farther out, I imagine. Carlos said he was going
directly to the islands. If we touch at Panama, or any of
the Central American or Mexican ports, we'll do it on
our way back.”
As we stood there we were directly over the portholes
of Quigley's stateroom. Voices below us suddenly were
lifted. I didn't recognize anyone's, however. Of a sudden
one was high pitched and accusative; others sought to
calm it. Then came the confused sounds of a scuffle, of
blows, and oaths that blistered. A door slammed, and feet
scurried up the companionway at our backs.
We turned to observe the fleeing figure that had
mounted from the deck below. He tucked his head down
against his shoulder when he saw us and ran swiftly for-
ward along the rail. So quickly did he appear and disap-
pear, that we were left wondering whether we had seen
anyone at all. Below all was quiet for a moment, then a
door opened and closed. Whether anyone came out of
the room we could not tell. After a moment we went to
the companionway and looked below. There was no one
there. If someone had come out he had gone forward on
the deck below, his footfalls softened by the rubber run-


32
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
ner which carpeted the passageway.
“That's odd,” Rogers said slowly, when all was quiet
again.
“Crap game," I explained. “In Quigley's room. It's
been going on for some time.”
"But the fellow who ran by us. I've seen him some-
where.”
"He must be one of the crew. He ran forward."
“Yes, I know. But his face-I saw it in the light just as
he reached the top of the stairs. I've seen it somewhere
before."
"You probably saw him earlier, on the dock before we
left.”
“No, I didn't. I came aboard and went straight to my
bed. If I remember rightly this fellow wouldn't be
signed on as one of the crew-well—".
“Think we ought to investigate?"
“I doubt if it's any of our business, Benny. I'm satisfied
to let it stay just where it is.”
"So am I.”
A moment later Rogers remarked: “I'm thinking of
turning in. It's late and I'm getting sleepy now.”
"All right. I'm sleepy too.”
Together we went towards the companionway and de-
scended to our rooms.


34
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
which later fades out. I separated from Rogers. He
dropped into a deck chair and opened his Shakespeare,
while I went below to look through the stuff Risner had
had sent on board in anticipation of the work he ex-
pected to do, and which illness had prevented him from
doing
In addition to the collecting equipment, which in-
cluded many labels reading, “Carlos Lanfrey Galapagos
Expedition," there was a rather lengthy list of various
items which Risner had expected to find and bring back,
both sea and land birds. From his extensive preparations
it was obvious that he had planned a thorough search of
the Galapagos for specimens. That meant hard work
and much climbing over a terrific volcanic terrain. How-
ever, if I had been rash in accepting Lanfrey's offer, there
was no help for it now. And after all, I didn't really re-
gret it. Now that we were at sea and the expedition well
started, I began to feel somewhat the eagerness, the
anticipation of the other members of the party.
I had thought that of all the ship's company I had been
the only one lacking that eagerness at our departure. I
said as much to Mrs. Lanfrey, as we stood at the rail that
afternoon. She had spoken to me as I came along the
deck, and had patted the rail beside her as an invitation
to stop. “You don't look so terribly in earnest,” she re-
marked, offering me a cigarette from the case she carried
in the pocket of her scarlet slacks. “You don't even look
like a scientist.”
"Thank you,” I said. “Running away from them, are
you?"
“Yes. They bore me terrifically.”


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
35
I think I raised my eyebrows at that; at least I looked
at her rather steadily. “Oh, I know," she laughed.
"You're wondering about Carlos. He knows I loathe
scientists; he knows I loathe scientific expeditions. He
knows, too, that I'm going along just to please him.”
“Then, except for that,” I remarked, “you're just wild
about the trip.”
"Exactly,” she replied with a slow smile that showed
her even, white teeth. She was a beautiful woman. Her
eyes were fine, her features as precisely cut as a cameo's;
there was something almost regal in the way she carried
her head and shoulders. And yet I felt sorry for her. For
there was something pathetic in those eyes of hers, a rest-
lessness, an unsatisfied hunger. She was a woman who
never had found herself, probably never would find her-
self; life stretched before her, a highway of discontent.
Moreover, she didn't suspect it; never would realize it.
"I'm a scientist," I said, "if I'm anything at all. I'm a
hunter of birds,”
"Don't let it break out on you like a rash if you want
to be my friend.”
“I—"
She suddenly fixed me with her eyes, as though re-
membering something long forgotten. "Have you a sister
named Marjory?"
"Yes.”
“I used to see her at the Coconut Grove in town. I
thought she was as beautiful as any young girl ever dared
to be."
"The kid is good looking," I replied, somewhat
pleased. For Marjory is something to be proud of.


36
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
"Whatever happened to her?”
"She got married.”
“Oh.” Her interest was gone instantly, and our con-
versation lagged for a time. We were on our second ciga-
rette apiece when Quigley came along the deck as though
seeking someone. The moment he espied us he came di-
rectly to the rail. I nodded to him and he stared at me a
moment as though wondering if he had ever seen me be-
fore.
"You know Mr. Bartlett, don't you, Jack?” Mrs. Lan-
frey asked.
"Yes. Sure. Hello,” he said, his eyes fixed on me for a
brief moment. He seized a cigarette which she offered
him, and lighted it from the tip of hers. I noted that his
hand shook a trifle.
“Enjoying yourself?” Mrs. Lanfrey inquired, lazily in-
different.
“Yes. Sure,” Quigley answered, and looked away at the
sea. There was something on his mind, something im-
portant; he seemed debating what to do. Suddenly he
spoke to Mrs. Lanfrey in a voice intended for her, but
which I could not help overhearing. “Listen, Reba,”
he said, “I've got to see you. Now. Somewhere. Some-
where where I can talk to you alone.”
"Surely, Jack. Anywhere you say. Let's go to the
lounge.”
He took her arm and turned from the rail.
“Excuse us, won't you, please, Mr. Bartlett?” Mrs.
Lanfrey said.
“Of course.”
I did not notice at the moment of their going that


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 37
Carlos Lanfrey was in our vicinity. But when I turned
my back to the deck to look off over the empty sea, I
saw him standing near by. He was watching his wife and
Jack Quigley as they went down the deck towards the
lounge. Presently he came over to me and leaned against
the rail, the sun glittering on the gold braid of his uni-
form. We exchanged greetings. He seemed to have noth-
ing in particular to impart to me.
“Are you comfortable in your quarters, Bartlett?” he
asked.
"Very. Thank you. You have a wonderful boat."
"She's all of that. We're turning up seventeen knots."
“That's good running."
He pursed his full red lips, and his eyes narrowed;
he seemed to be mulling something over in his mind.
Finally he said: “Bartlett, have you by any chance learned
of any gambling going on between members of the ex-
pedition and the crew?" He faced the ocean, his shoulder
close to mine, waiting for an answer.
“Yes,” I said, "but-".
"I know,” he interposed hastily. "I'm not asking you
to be a talebearer. I'm merely trying to get at the bottom
of something. One of the crew has a beautiful shiner.
He won't say how he got it. Ernest, the boy who helps
Starr, is sulking. The rumor is that there was a game in
one of the cabins last night that ended in a row. I'm
sorry; I apologize, of course, for having to dig into,"
“Do you mind calling Rogers over here?” I asked.
"Hunt Rogers?”
“Yes. Sitting there in his chair,” Carlos Lanfrey
twisted about to discover Rogers and called: "Hunt!


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 39
not have the discipline of the crew undermined." He
shut his jaws firmly on the last word, straightened to his
full height and walked forward.
All this seems hardly worth the setting down. Ordi-
narily, I suppose, it should be omitted. But in view of
what was to follow, it is necessary to include it. More-
over, the Cyrene II was not a passenger boat in the sense
that a liner is; she was a private yacht engaged upon a
scientific expedition, and the responsible members owed
something more than a mere passenger's obligation to
the captain, who had the welfare and the success of the
expedition at heart.
“Quigley had no business starting a crap game like
that,” said Rogers. He still leaned over the rail, a finger
in his volume of Shakespeare, his large nose like a figure-
head pointed towards the sea.
“Of course not.”
After a moment Rogers said, “Quigley, you know, is
a substitute at the last moment, like yourself.”
“I didn't know that.”
“Yes. The man Carlos expected to get from the studio
was called back at the last moment for some retakes on
a picture he had been shooting. And they sent Quigley
in his place.”
“Things haven't gone so smoothly for Lanfrey, then,
taking it all around, have they?"
“No, they haven't. They never do, I guess.”
"Quigley seems to be an acquaintance of Mrs. Lan-
frey's. I thought, of course, that might have had some-
thing to do with his being along."
“No, I think not. If she knows him, his being aboard


40
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
is probably just a coincidence. Nothing more."
We were just gossiping idly. Ship life lends itself pe-
culiarly to gossip. As a party we had not yet shaken down
to that point where our curiosity in each other was satis-
fied. As we talked, now looking out over the water, again
with our backs to the rail, Mrs. Lanfrey came along the
deck alone, smoking a cigarette as she walked. She passed
us by without speaking, then suddenly she stopped and
came back. Standing a little apart from us she said to
Rogers:
"Perhaps I am being a little remiss, Mr. Rogers, as a
hostess. I've not inquired as to whether you are com-
fortable in your quarters. Are you?”
"I'm very comfortable, Mrs. Lanfrey, thank you."
"And you, Mr. Bartlett?"
“The same, and thanks.”
She smiled, and with a polished finger nail ficked her
cigarette deftly over the rail. There was something else
she wanted to say, but hesitated to do so; then suddenly
she said:
"Carlos never gambles. He detests it. I'm not apologiz-
ing for that lack in him, you understand. I merely wanted
to say that whatever you may hear about a game having
already occurred, will you please not say anything about
it to Carlos?” She flashed us a smile, and before either
Rogers or I could reply, walked away.


By the following morning we were far down the coast of
Lower California. In the early hours the Cyrene II,
glistening white in the sun on a blue and empty sea, pos-
sessed an atmosphere of loneliness. Her decks were de-
serted; her lounge and dining room unoccupied. All life
seemed to have fled.
"Where is everybody?” Alice Wilmer asked, coming in
to breakfast. I had been alone when she entered. Ard-
leigh and Captain Lanfrey had eaten and gone, for the
service had been cleared away from their places.
"What did you expect of a scientific expedition? A
levee, a chattering tea party?" I asked.
“Certainly not the quiet of the grave,” she answered.
"Well, figure it out,” I said. “Carlos Lanfrey takes his
duties as captain and leader very seriously. He has much
work to do in his office just off the bridge. His chief of-
ficer, the second mate, the chief engineer and sparks are
busy men; they have their own mess, and you didn't ex-
pect to see anything of them anyway. Mrs. Lanfrey is a
law unto herself. The scientific members of the expedi-
tion brought along something to do. Dr. Gorell is writing
something, and his wife is helping him. Ardleigh is re-
vising his text book on geology. French is trying to put
a book together. What time Huntoon Rogers isn't exer-


42
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
cising, he's reading. You and Jack Quigley and I seem to
be the only play boys of this luxury cruise"
"Have you seen Jack this morning?" she asked. Her
complexion was unusually fresh and lovely at this early
hour.
"No."
came in with her egg and toast. “Has Mr. Quigley had his
breakfast yet, Starr?”
"No, Miss Wilmer.”
“Jack is going to take pictures of everybody this morn-
ing,” she said, turning back to me. “It's official. On deck
at ten-thirty, everybody. He told me so last night.”
“Picture taking is inevitable. You'll have to be taken
and like it,"
“But I do like it.”
“Not once but many times—".
"All right. The more the better.”
"You're hopeless."
She laughed and we became gay; and I forgot that feel-
ing of loneliness which earlier I had detected settling
down upon the yacht. It probably was just as well that
we started the day like that; there was enough to come
later to overbalance by far any gaiety at breakfast time.
However, it was not until somewhat after ten o'clock
that the boy Ernest went down the companionway to the
deck below and rapped on Quigley's door. He rapped
twice, he said later, and then entered and found Quigley
not there. He went back to Captain Lanfrey and re-
ported he could not find him. Lanfrey had wanted to
discuss with Quigley the pictures he desired of the mem-


44 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
won't keep them long. Quigley's probably got his stuff
all ready. I told him last night."
“Yes, sir,” I said, and tossed my cigarette end over-
board and started towards the companionway.
I knocked on French's door and he snarled at me. He
apologized promptly, however, when he recognized my
voice. Mrs. Gorell opened her door suspiciously and
thrust her dark fleshy face out as I approached, having
overheard me talking with French.
"On deck, please, for official photographs,” I said, and
passed on. I found Ardleigh in the lounge reading
a magazine. Huntoon Rogers was in his deck chair
wrapped in a rug, his eyes on a book, his thoughts doubt-
less on a bank where the wild thyme blows. Alice Wilmer
was forward, gazing at the sea. Coming along the shady
port side I met Mrs. Lanfrey. She saw me and flung out
an impulsive hand to stay my progress.
"Have you seen Jack Quigley this morning?" she
asked.
“No. But he is to take pictures shortly on deck."
"I'm-worried,” she said. “I–I can't find him this
morning.”
"Starr and Ernest have gone to look him up,” I told
her.
"Nothing's happened to him, of course," she re-
marked, more to reassure herself than to ply me with
conversation. “He's such a kid, though. And he's im-
pulsive-”
"Are you afraid he's got into difficulties?" I asked.
"No-o. I don't know. He's a perfect fiend for gambling
and he has a quick temper-'


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
47
Captain Lanfrey had said that Rogers had been over
the ship. He took me into places I had not thought ex-
isted in a ship no larger than the Cyrene II. “Well,” said
Rogers, as we walked along a passageway, “if Carlos
thought he might be stowed away in the fo'c'sle, he's mis-
taken."
“You don't suppose-"I began.
“I don't suppose anything,” he cut me off shortly.
We found the Chief Officer in his tiny cabin. He even
poked under his bunk for our benefit, and opened the
door to the second mate's quarters. Through their mess
room and the cook's galley we worked. No inch escaped
us. We glimpsed Lanfrey and Starr together as we ap-
proached the center of the ship. With a gesture that in-
dicated no result we went below to the engine room; we
crawled into empty bunkers, banged on boxes in the
hold, shifted ship’s stores about in our effort to leave un-
examined no corner that would hold a man.
We met Captain Lanfrey and Starr in the engine
room. Lanfrey looked at us and shook his head. “Noth-
ing," he said.
“We're just as empty handed,” said Rogers, opening
his palms outward.
For a moment the four of us stood there. Starr shifted
uneasily on his feet and I saw him wet his lips. Rogers
pulled a large white handkerchief from his pocket and
mopped his brow. Captain Lanfrey pursed his lips slowly
and thoughtfully.
"Well,” he said after a moment, and turned and
climbed up to the deck.
We followed him silently, our feet making little sound


48
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
on the padded companionway. As we reached the deck
on which the staterooms were located, Lanfrey paused
as though undecided, then walked aft to Quigley's room.
He threw the door open suddenly, as if suspecting that
Quigley had played some trick upon us all. But the room
was empty. The four of us entered and stood in the cen-
ter of it. The bed, as had been previously reported, had
not been slept in. Quigley's clothes hung in the closet
where he had left them, swinging gently to the slow roll
of the ship. His watch and some money were on the
dresser; the long gray ash of a burned out cigarette lay
on the edge of the glass top.
Captain Lanfrey's eyes swept about the room. He
walked over to the bed, touched it lightly with his
knuckles, then dropped on one knee, raised the edge of
the hanging counterpane and looked underneath. The
space there was empty. Still without speaking, Lanfrey
led the way outside and by the rear companionway to the
upper deck. The little group of fellow passengers we had
left waiting to have their pictures taken were still about.
Mrs. Gorell was occupying Rogers' deck chair and was
idly turning the leaves of his book. Her husband and
French were leaning together over the rail talking. Ard-
leigh and Mrs. Lanfrey were strolling together. Alice
Wilmer was walking alone farther forward.
Our appearance among them, somewhat disheveled as
we were from our search, had the effect of a mild electric
shock. Mrs. Gorell laid aside the book. Gorell and French
faced about. Ardleigh and Mrs. Lanfrey quickened their
pace and came up to us. I could see that Mrs. Lanfrey
wanted to speak, but it was Ardleigh who spoke first.


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 49
"Well,” he said with a slight asperity, “when is our
young photographer going to favor us with his pres-
ence?"
There was a silence that began to grow ominous. Then
Captain Lanfrey said quietly:
“He's not coming."
Mrs. Lanfrey's hand went up to her face. She pressed
her handkerchief to her lips, almost as if to stop a cry
that was there.
"What's happened?" French asked.
"Mr. Quigley has disappeared.”
Curious how that feeling of loneliness I had noted
earlier seemed to have settled again about the ship. In
the moment when Captain Lanfrey's words were sinking
into the consciousness of those about us, I could feel it
again with all the weight of the empty sea upon which
we sailed alone.
"You mean you can't find him anywhere?” began
Gorell, thrusting out his chin.
“Mr. Quigley has disappeared,” repeated Captain Lan-
frey.
"Oh, no, Carlos!” Mrs. Lanfrey cried out.
"But he must be somewhere about-" began Alice Wil-
mer, almost in desperation.
"I've said he is not to be found aboard ship,” said Lan-
frey.
“But where could he have gone, sir?" demanded Gor-
ell, a fine sweat breaking out on his forehead.
“Gone?” echoed the Captain. “Overboard."


THE Cyrene II moved onward under a cloudless sky.
There was no sail, no thin blur of smoke in any quarter
of the horizon; there was no point of reference by which
to measure our interminable progress. Except for the
slow roll and the slight noise of the water along the
ship's sides, there was nothing to assure us that we even
moved at all towards the distant goal of the expedition
in the Galapagos Islands.
Nobody looked over the side now at the sea. It had be-
come immensely formidable, forbidding. For Quigley,
our youthful photographer, was gone. Lost overboard. I
have no doubt that in Captain Carlos Lanfrey's mind in
those first few minutes of realization that we had lost
one of our number overboard, was the thought of turn-
ing back in search of Quigley. It was only a human and
natural impulse. But the hopelessness of it! Anybody
who far from land ever has seen the pitiful speck that is
the head of a swimmer in so vast a thing as the open sea,
realizes the futility of turning back. Besides Quigley had
not been seen for hours. He had not been at breakfast.
His bed had not been slept in. Everything pointed to the
assumption that he had gone overboard in the night.
Somebody asked:
"Could he swim?".
50


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 51
There was a moment's silence, and then Alice Wilmer,
the artist, with a strangely dry sound in her voice said:
“No. He couldn't swim-very well.”
Captain Lanfrey turned and walked towards the
bridge. The others, as by some compelling force, drifted
slowly away to the greater security of their staterooms,
leaving Huntoon Rogers and me alone on deck. I stood
against the rail, my back to the sea, while Rogers dropped
into his steamer chair, pulled the rug about his feet and
picked up his book.
“Even if you are a professor of English, do you feel like
reading now, Hunt?” I asked.
"No." He was silent a moment. He rubbed his finger
along the side of his large nose. “I don't. But what else
is there to do? The man is gone. Action in a situation like
this is so absolutely futile. If we could do anything to
help, take any steps whatever, naturally we would all
want to do it. I don't envy Carlos his position. The only
thing we can do is keep on with our plans. It's hard to
see how a man as young and active as Quigley could have
fallen overboard.”
We talked idly for half an hour, discussing the situa-
tion, while the yacht plowed steadily onward towards the
ever receding horizon that hemmed us in. At the end of
that time Captain Lanfrey came down from the bridge
and walked along the deck to our sides. His blue eyes re-
garded us thoughtfully for a moment.
"I've wirelessed Quigley's people,” he said.
Perhaps that was all he had to say to us; I don't know.
He had turned partly on his heel as though to walk away
when Rogers got up out of his chair.


52 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
“Carlos,” he said, “I was just thinking. Doubtless it has
occurred to you, too. Quigley's things ought to be gath-
ered up and put away against the time we get home
again. I volunteer to look them over and pack them
away.”
“All right, Hunt. Thanks,” the Captain's response was
quick. "I was going to have Starr do it, but it's just as
well that you take charge of it. By the way, let's go down
there now. Come on, Bartlett.”
The three of us walked to the after companionway and
descended to Quigley's room. It was as we had left it
earlier. His watch and some money lay on the dresser;
his clothes hanging in the closet still swayed gently to the
roll of the ship. The bed was undisturbed. We stood in
the room gazing about, reluctant to take up the task
which signified the closing of a life.
“How in hell did it happen?" Captain Lanfrey said
suddenly, in a tense voice.
Neither Rogers nor I answered him for a moment,
then Rogers said:
"He was young and strong physically; he seemed like
a very normal person. Of course an accident can happen
to anybody.”
"It can,” said Captain Lanfrey. “But did it?"
"How do you mean, Carlos?” asked Rogers.
The Captain did not reply. He walked over to the
closet and ran his hand over the clothing that hung there.
He poked about at a bag that was set inside of it and
came back to the dresser where the watch and money
lay. He was making up his mind to some action. Sud-
denly he spoke.


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 53
“Listen, Hunt,” he said. “You and Benny make a
thorough check of Quigley's things and put them back
in his luggage, lock it up and bring me the keys. Better
list the stuff you find. And any money,” he indicated
the roll of bills on the dresser—"bring it to me and I'll
put it in the safe.” He cast a swift glance about the state-
room as if to make sure he had overlooked nothing, then
added: “That's all.” He walked towards the door, turned
a moment, pursed his red lips thoughtfully and said: “I
think this afternoon we'd better talk the thing over-the
others too.” He motioned with his large hand as though
to include the other members of the expedition. His
back disappeared and we heard him climbing the com-
panionway.
Rogers walked over to the door and closed it and came
back to where I stood at the dresser looking at the long
ash of a burned out cigarette on the glass top.
“I've been wondering about that, Benny,” he said.
“That must have been a fresh cigarette just lighted when
Quigley laid it down.”
"He'd pulled about twice on it,” I commented.
"You know," and Rogers rubbed the side of his large
nose, “it strikes me that we might use a little reasoning
power right here."
"Possibly.”
“I've always noticed that a man, unless he is extraor-
dinarily preoccupied, never loses interest in a fresh ciga-
rette. It's pretty well smoked before he gets to the point
where he will lay it down and forget about it. Now, he'll
lay down a fresh cigarette, say, to take off his necktie or
his shirt, but he'll pick it up again. Or he'll lay it down if


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
55
and underwear. Also we found a small camera of Ger-
man make, popular among the more serious students of
photography. There were three rolls of film for it. In the
side pocket of the bag were some stationery and en-
velopes, and a check book, partly used. Rogers sat down
upon the bed and fingered through the stubs. Presently
he said:
"Quigley drew two hundred and fifty dollars. Stub is
marked cash for Galapagos trip.' Judging from his stubs
he was careful in money matters. Probably he kept an
account book.”
“There's something that may be an account book there
in a dresser drawer," I remarked.
"Let's look at it.”
I brought it over to him and sat down beside him on
the bed. It was a small red book, rather new and with
most of its pages blank. There were some half dozen
Hollywood telephone numbers jotted down with ap-
parent haste. There was a page marked "Range Country”
and some notes beneath it. “From Mike D. $82. From
Pete H. $18. Curley owes $56. Total ivory cubes $156.”
These notations had been crossed through in pencil as if
the transactions represented had been wiped out.
"Some of his gambling accounts probably,” said
Rogers. “There was a picture released some months ago
called “Range Country.' Probably he was a camera man
on that."
Rogers turned through some blank pages and then
with a lift to his voice said: "Here's something. He's
headed it ‘Galapagos Expedition. Underneath that,
Cash from bank, $250. In pocket, $1.31. From the Kid,


56 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
$10. Starr, $380. Jay C., $18. Total i.c. Wednesday night,
$408.'” Rogers looked a moment at me thoughtfully.
“ 'I.C.,'” I remarked, “meaning ivory cubes again. In
other words, the take on his crap game night before
last.”
"I guess there's no doubt of it,” replied Rogers
thoughtfully. "Starr's name's there. 'The Kid' probably
is the boy Ernest. “Jay C.' the sailor.”
We were silent a moment, reflecting on the manner
in which Quigley recorded his personal affairs.
“We even might check up his cash for him and see if
it's all here," I remarked.
"I was just thinking of that, Benny.” Rogers got up
and went over to the dresser, picked up the roll of bills
and came back to the bed again. Carefully he counted
out the bills, mostly tens. "Two hundred and seventy-
eight dollars,” he said. “And the dollar thirty-one we
found in his clothes. That makes it $279.31."
“Doesn't check,” I said.
"No." Rogers did some figuring on a blank page torn
from the note book, his heavy pencil making thick diffi-
cult figures. “Three hundred and eighty dollars off,” he
said.
“Maybe Starr got a rebate,” I offered. Rogers looked at
me carefully to discover what was back of the remark.
"Perhaps,” he said. “That's what the record says Starr
lost to the ivory cubes.”
He got up and put the money back on the dresser, and
began going through the dresser drawers. There was lit-
tle more there or elsewhere in the room associated with
Quigley. A carton of cigarettes still unopened and sev-


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 57
eral packages lying loose in the drawer; a Swiss watch of
expensive make, now run down; a little box of collar but-
tons, cuff links, tie chains, coat and shirt buttons; a small
sewing kit; a small calendar, and a traveling clock, still
ticking. In the waste basket was the sports final of a Los
Angeles paper, dated the day we left San Pedro; in the
ash tray were five cigarette stubs whose burnt tips had
been carefully pressed out.
"I guess that's all of it, Benny,” said Rogers, when we
had assembled the stuff. “You call it off to me and I'll
write it down.”
For the next quarter-hour I picked up each separate
article, named it, and dropped it into the traveling bag,
while Rogers, his list on his knee, further supported by
the newspaper from the waste basket, first looked at the
object and then jotted it down.
“There's something pathetic in the earthly possessions
of a person recently dead. Simple inanimate things as
they are, they tell a story, Benny; don't they?"
"I suppose so, if one becomes sentimental-"
"Here was a fellow," he said, ignoring the emphasis in
my remark, “young, active, intelligent-apparently some-
thing of a gambler-”
“As are we all in one way or another," I interposed.
"Perhaps you're right." He was silent a moment. “But
I've missed something here, Benny."
“What?”
“There's no dressing gown; no slippers; no ivory cubes.
A crap shooter, I suspect, always carries his own dice.”
Rogers was right. We had not found these articles. And
yet each of them was indispensable to a man like Quig-


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
ley. In fact I had seen Quigley wearing a dressing gown
that night of the game.
"Well, there you've got a picture of Quigley,” I said.
“He was here in his room. He had on his dressing gown
and slippers. He came over here to the dresser, took a
fresh cigarette and lighted it. He had pulled a couple of
times on it when someone knocked on the door. He put
down the cigarette, probably straightened his tie, went
over to the door, from there up to the deck. And he
didn't come back.”
Huntoon Rogers shook his head as if in contemplation
of the scene, made some notes on the list of articles and
signed his name.
“Better sign your name to this, too, Benny, I don't
know that it is really necessary, but there's no reason why
we shouldn't. I'll begin locking up this stuff.”
I signed the list and then helped Rogers finish with the
trunk. He snapped the bag to, and after a search among
the keys for the right ones, locked both trunk and bag.
We left them in the center of the room, took our list, the
money, the little red book, the watch and the keys and
made our way to the bridge.
Captain Lanfrey was in his office. "All through?” he
asked, as we entered.
“Yes," replied Rogers.
"Come in and tell me what you've found."


ALICE WILMER stopped beside me just outside the
lounge. Her lovely face was serious, her manner some-
what restrained; she seemed like one adrift in a strange
sea of events.
"What's going to happen now?" she asked.
“It's nothing to be alarmed about," I reassured her.
“Do I seem alarmed? The thing has upset me so—”
“Captain Lanfrey merely wants to ask a few questions
in the hope of throwing a little more light on the acci-
dent.”
"Oh,” she said with a small sigh of relief. “Do you
think it was an accident?”
"It couldn't have been anything else.”
"Then what's the use of talking about it?"
"It's the Captain's idea, not mine. Coming in now?"
“Yes.”
We went into the lounge together and found a com-
fortable place on the broad davenport among deep cush-
ions. I gave her a cigarette and noted that her hand trem-
bled. Ardleigh, his long legs folded miraculously about
his chair, was already in the lounge; as were Dr. and Mrs.
Gorell. They were not talking, just sitting waiting.
French, his red hair more than usually awry, entered,
nodded and relaxed his lithe body in an easy chair. He
59


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
lit a cigarette, offering his pack to the others who de-
clined. Next came Mrs. Lanfrey in the scarlet slacks she
had worn the day before. A white beret covered her dark
hair. She hesitated a moment on the threshold, and then
spying Alice and me, came across and sat beside Alice.
“This is Carlos' idea,” she said casually. “He's such a
stickler for form. Shipshape is a word with him. Every-
thing must be shipshape-"
"It's an excellent trait, I think.”
She looked at me, her brown eyes fixed on mine. Fi-
nally she said: “Are you going to turn out to be one of
those horrid persons who do things just because they
should be done?"
Where this conversation would have led, I don't know.
Probably nowhere, for it was merely the idle search for
a conversational background. Just at that moment Hun-
toon Rogers came into the lounge, followed by Captain
Lanfrey. A definite but not pronounced hush settled
upon us. Rogers looked about for a seat and found one
near French. As by common consent a large arm chair
at the end of the lounge had been left vacant for the
Captain.
Lanfrey wasted no time. He sat down, rested his gold
braided cap on a small table at his side, ran thick fingers
through his short blond hair and began speaking at once:
“I've asked the members of the expedition to come to
this meeting which is for the purpose of inquiring into
the circumstances surrounding the loss overboard of one
of our number sometime last night. The death of Mr.
Quigley is most unfortunate, regrettable. Luckily, how-
ever, for the success of the expedition, his place can be


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 61
filled by Professor Rogers here, who has pursued pho-
tography as a hobby; Professor Rogers has very kindly
volunteered to take over Mr. Quigley's duties, so that
you other members of the expedition need have no wor-
ries about your photographs.
“But that is aside from the point. This meeting is
concerned with the death of Mr. Quigley. I'd like to
establish for the log the approximate time of his death,
and if possible in what manner he could have gone over
the side; that is, how such an accident could have hap-
pened.
"Dr. Ardleigh,” he turned upon the elderly geologist
on his right, “if you don't mind, I'll start with you. When
did you last see Mr. Quigley alive on board ship?"
Dr. Ardleigh's head had gone back at the mention of
his name; his sharp gray-green eyes under his heavy
brows sought the paneled ceiling of the lounge. But only
for a moment did he hesitate, then he dropped his gaze
from the ceiling to Captain Lanfrey's bronzed face.
"I'll give you my movements subsequent to dinner,"
he began with a slight drawl, "at which time Mr. Quig-
ley and all of us here were present. I took a short stroll
and stood awhile on the after deck smoking. Mrs. Lan-
frey and Mr. Quigley strolled past. We spoke, but they
did not stop to talk. A few minutes later I came in here
to the lounge, found a copy of Benjamin Franklin's Au-
tobiography in the library there,” he motioned towards
the book shelves at the end of the lounge, “and sat here
reading for perhaps an hour. I put the book away, went
out on deck and took one turn around. Passed Mr. Quig-
ley and the young lady here, Miss Wilmer, standing at


62 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
the rail talking, and, as Mr. Pepys says, so to bed.”
I sensed that a tremor passed through the body of Alice
Wilmer as Ardleigh mentioned Quigley's name in con-
nection with her own, but with a show of control she
leaned forward to drop her cigarette in an ash tray.
“And what time was that, Dr. Ardleigh?” asked Cap-
tain Lanfrey.
"That was at nine-thirty-five, Captain.” He rubbed the
long fingers of his hand over his finely wrinkled cheeks.
“I remember it, because I took my watch from my pocket
and put it on the night stand the moment I went into
my stateroom."
"Thank you very much, Doctor."
There was a noticeable relaxing of tension in the room.
The quiet conversational tone of Dr. Ardleigh, the sim-
ple narrative of his evening's activities, served to remove
somewhat the formidable atmosphere that had settled
upon the inquiry, small and intimate a group though we
were.
"Dr. Gorell,” Captain Lanfrey turned to the concholo-
gist who sat with his wife on chairs at the end of the
davenport. Even though Gorell could have expected to
be questioned immediately following Ardleigh, never-
theless Captain Lanfrey's approach seemed to startle him.
It was not noticeable unless one were looking at his face
at the moment. I happened to do so, and I could see the
reaction flicker briefly in his masklike visage. He swal-
lowed, then cleared his throat slightly, and before Lan-
frey could frame a question he launched with an irritat-
ing rasp in his voice into an account of his activities
following last evening's dinner.


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 63
"I can speak for Mrs. Gorell as well as myself, for we
spend the evenings together. We took a single turn about
the deck, looked in at the lounge here and found it
empty, and went down to our stateroom. We played a
few games of double solitaire, as is our custom, then
about nine o'clock Mrs. Gorell retired; I sat up an hour
looking over some work I have in preparation, and then
also retired. Mrs. Gorell is a heavy sleeper. She seldom
hears any noise whatever at night, and she knows nothing
of what occurred.”
"And you?"
"I don't sleep so well. In fact, I was up in the night,
Captain. I-" He looked about the circle and swallowed.
“I-I was wakeful and came up on deck for a while.”
"When was that?"
“I heard six bells struck as I climbed the stairs,”
“How long did you stay up?"
"About twenty minutes, I think.”
"Did you see or hear anything unusual?"
“No, sir."
"Thank you, Doctor," said Lanfrey.
Mrs. Gorell's blunt personality suddenly projected it-
self at us.
“We saw Mr. Quigley and Mrs. Lanfrey strolling on
deck, as Dr. Ardleigh says he did.”
It seemed a deliberate thrust, the purpose of which was
obscure; but the manner was unmistakable. I observed
that Mrs. Lanfrey became very quiet; her fingers rest-
lessly flicking at her cigarette stilled. Captain Lanfrey
with a disarming smile, turned immediately to French.
“Doctor,” he began, “you and I spent the time from


64
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
dinner to nine o'clock talking fish and fishing. Can you
throw any light on Mr. Quigley's last movements?"
“None, Captain,” our usually silent ichthyologist re-
sponded. “I didn't see him after dinner. When I left
your office on the bridge I came down, looked in here at
the lounge, saw Ardleigh reading, and went on down to
my quarters. I read until close to eleven o'clock, then
went to bed. Slept till seven this morning.” He motioned
with his freckled hand, indicating that that was all.
“Rogers, how about you?" Captain Lanfrey turned to
Professor Huntoon Rogers.
Rogers rubbed a long finger across the bridge of his
large nose, and smiled slightly.
"I think that Bartlett and I have the simplest story of
any to tell. We stuck together after dinner down in my
cabin discussing a little of everything from Shakespeare
to tree frogs; then about ten o'clock we took three or four
turns around the deck and came down again. I left him
at his door and I then went on to my cabin and to bed.”
"What time do you suppose you got back to your
rooms?”
"It was ten-thirty."
“Thank you, Hunt. Bartlett, is that your story too?"
“I couldn't put it any more concisely, Captain.”
“Did either of you see Quigley anywhere on your turn
about deck?"
“Yes. He was on the starboard side at the rail.”
"Alone?"
“No. With Miss Wilmer. They appeared to be talk-
ing.”


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 65
The Captain turned abruptly from me to Alice Wil-
mer.
“Forgive me, Miss Wilmer," he began. “It was not in-
tentional upon my part to leave you until the last. I've
merely gone around the circle of those here. If the ac-
counts of the others seem to have built up to you as the
one last seeing Mr. Quigley alive, I hope you will not
misconstrue,"
"But, Captain," Alice smiled at him, perfectly calm
and self-possessed, “I have nothing to explain. Perhaps I
was the last one to see him alive, or at least to talk with
him; but I couldn't help that, could I, when he came and
knocked on my door and asked me to come up on deck
with him?"
"Of course not, Miss Wilmer. All I've tried to say is
that you must not hold it against me if,"
“I don't, Captain.”
“Very well, then, tell us of Mr. Quigley”
“As I started to say,” she began, the color coming to
her cheeks beneath her makeup. “Mr. Quigley knocked
on my door about nine o'clock. I had been lying down,
but hadn't retired. He wanted me to come up on deck
and talk to him, and I did. We walked around awhile
then stood by the rail. And later, it wasn't very long after
Mr. Bartlett and Professor Rogers passed us that I said
good night to Jack and went down to my stateroom_"
“Mr. Quigley didn't come down, then, when you did?"
"He said he wasn't sleepy yet, and that he would stay
on deck a little while longer.”
"Is there anything more? Do you know whether he did


66 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
come down?”
"Yes, he did. He passed my door, which was still ajar.
He called, 'Good night, Alice,' and I said, 'Good night,
Jack.'”
"Do you know the time?".
"Not exactly. Probably it was fifteen minutes after I
had come down."
“So far as you know, then, Quigley went on to his
room?"
"Yes.”
“Did you hear anything after that?”
“I heard him enter and close his door. Then later on
-maybe half an hour-when I was reading I heard some-
one knock on a door, and then voices. I recognized Jack's
voice.”
“What was said?"
“I don't know. I was able only to distinguish his voice
as one of the two. I didn't try to listen to what was said.”
"What time was that?"
“I don't know. Time is always sort of vague to me,
Captain.” Lanfrey was silent for a moment for the pur-
pose, I thought, of reckoning the total length of time
implied by Alice Wilmer's account.
“Could it have been as late as eleven-thirty when you
heard the knock?"
"Really, Captain, I don't know.”
"Thank you, Miss Wilmer.” He glanced at the watch
on his wrist, then looked around the room, as though he
had ended. “Thank you all,” he said.
“Carlos!” Mrs. Lanfrey suddenly sat forward on the
davenport. “Are you going to pass me by?"


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 67
"Pardon me, my dear,” he smiled at her. “But I know
where you were"
"But the others don't. And I insist on being heard.”
“Very well, then, Reba. Tell us.”
Mrs. Lanfrey laughed lightly as though she had won a
contested point. A laugh that jarred just a little, seeing
the solemnity of the occasion. “I did walk with Jack
Quigley about the deck as Dr. Ardleigh and Mrs. Gorell
have said. Poor boy, he was so disturbed over an incident
-well, to be frank, there was gambling the night before.
He had not realized how strict Carlos is about gambling,
and now that it was done he was much distressed that it
had happened and he wanted my advice about what he
should do. I left him about nine and came down to my
stateroom. My husband had just come in, and we talked
a while before retiring. That's all,” she finished as if in
a race with time.
"Thank you, my dear,” said Captain Lanfrey. He
picked up his cap, then thought of another question:
“Does anyone here know whether Quigley, aside from
the distress he evidently felt over the gambling incident,
was a moody individual, given to thoughts of suicide?"
He waited for someone to speak. Presently Ardleigh
drawled:
“I scarcely spoke to the man, Captain.”
“Did you, Miss Wilmer," quizzed Lanfrey, “discover
any suicidal thoughts in him last night?”
“No, Captain," Alice Wilmer said emphatically, sitting
forward and putting her feet firmly on the floor. “Not
last night nor any other time. I knew him in Hollywood.
I had known him for a year. He was always optimistic


68
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
and full of ambition. He wanted to get somewhere."
“Thank you, Miss Wilmer.” Captain Lanfrey got to
his feet. “That's all, ladies and gentlemen. I thank you
for your cooperation." He bowed to us, set his cap firmly
upon his head and walked quickly out of the lounge.


OUTSIDE the lounge Huntoon Rogers took my arm and
walked me towards the bridge. He propelled me along
whether or no I wanted to go. When we were beyond
earshot of the others, he said:
“The investigation has been adjourned to Carlos'
cabin on the bridge. He wants to examine some of the
crew, and he asked me to bring you along.”
We walked forward to the ladder and climbed to the
bridge. Captain Lanfrey's office was small; to use a word
his wife had applied to her husband, however, it was
shipshape. Therefore, it was possible not only for Lan-
frey, Rogers and I to sit comfortably in it, but there was
an extra chair for a member of the crew which it was
proposed to quiz one at a time. We were sitting quietly.
I was smoking. Rogers was making some notes of the in-
vestigation just concluded in the lounge. Captain Lan-
frey was looking through the little red note book we had
brought him from Quigley's room. A shadow fell upon
the threshold and we looked up to see the boy Ernest.
"You sent for me, sir," he said to Lanfrey.
“Yes. Come in, Ernest. Sit down there.” He indicated
the remaining chair. Ernest was a blue-eyed fresh faced
youth of eighteen or nineteen, and of medium height.
He had a straight level gaze when spoken to; he was
69


70 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
courteous and intelligent.
For a moment Captain Lanfrey permitted Ernest to
sit there, while he continued to leaf through the little
red book. Then he looked up quickly and addressed the
youth. “You know of course that Mr. Quigley was lost
overboard last night, Ernest?” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
“How late were you on duty last night?"
“Until ten o'clock, sir. Mr. Starr said I could go then."
"What did you do when he released you?" .
"I went forward, sir, to my bunk and went to bed.”
“Do you know anything that would throw any light
upon the death of Mr. Quigley?”
“No, sir; I do not.”
Captain Lanfrey picked up the book and turned
through it again, while Ernest continued to sit respect-
fully awaiting the next question. Suddenly Lanfrey
dropped the book.
“Ernest,” he said, “night before last you were in a
crap game in Mr. Quigley's room and lost ten dollars to
him. Isn't that true?”
The boy flushed quickly, the color spreading even to
his hairline, but he hesitated for only a moment, then he
said:
“Yes, sir, that's true.”
"Tell me about that game."
"Well,” the youth swallowed, "well, I went down
with a cocktail Mr. Quigley had ordered, sir, and he
asked me to stay. Mr. Starr came and then one of the
sailors named Cranston, and Mr. Quigley wanted to
know if we cared to roll the dice. And that's how it


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 71
started, sir.”
"What happened?"
"I didn't stay in the game long, sir. Ten dollars was
all I had. I dropped out and then Cranston dropped out
when he lost his money too. And then Mr. Starr and Mr.
Quigley played. Mr. Starr won a little, then Mr. Quigley
started winning and he won all Mr. Starr had, which was
quite a lot. I don't know just how much, sir. Then Cran-
ston got sore and said the dice were crooked and Mr.
Quigley took a poke at him; that started a fight and I
ducked out, sir.”
Captain Lanfrey opened the center drawer of his desk,
took out a bank note and handed it to the youth, who
hesitated a moment before accepting it.
“There's your ten dollars. And as long as you're aboard
this ship you are to keep out of all gambling games."
"Yes, sir. Thank you. I'm sorry it occurred, sir. I ap-
preciate being a member of this crew and I promise you
I'll not gamble again, sir.”
"That's all, Ernest. Tell Mr. Davis to send Cranston
here.”
“Yes, sir.” The boy got quickly from his chair and dis-
appeared.
For a moment none of us spoke, then Rogers said:
"He seems a nice boy, Carlos."
“He is a nice boy. His father is my head gardener in
San Marino. A native of Norway. The boy wants to fol-
low the sea and so I included him. He knows nothing
connected with Quigley's disappearance.”
"That's quite evident. From Miss Wilmer's testimony
we know that Quigley was still alive as late as eleven-


72
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
thirty last night, when someone came to his room.”
“That's apparent,” said Lanfrey, pursing his full, red
lips. His large hairy hands toyed with the little red ac-
count book, his mind seemed far afield as we waited for
Cranston, the seaman. Presently he appeared outside the
door and stood there waiting to be asked inside. Captain
Lanfrey looked up.
“Come in, Jay,” he said. "Sit down there.” He mo-
tioned towards the chair.
Cranston was a young man about twenty-five years old.
He was rather stocky with bulging muscles in his trou-
sers legs. He was dark, almost swarthy of complexion,
and a nasty bruise under his right eye had blackened a
considerable area thereabouts; the eye was partly swollen
shut, giving its owner almost a villainous look. His man-
ner was one of general indifference; there was nothing of
the alertness about him visible in the youth who had
preceded him in the chair. Captain Lanfrey began talk-
ing at once.
“You were in Mr. Davis' watch last night, Jay-".
"Yes.”
“I understand you were acting as lookout.”
"I was.”
"Can't you say sir to me? I'm captain of this ship,”
Carlos Lanfrey suddenly blazed at the young man, his
cheeks flushing slowly under their tan.
"All right, sir, if you say so, Uncle Carlos.”
Captain Lanfrey's blue eyes continued to glare at the
young man. After a long moment he went on without a
trace of violence.
“Mr. Quigley was lost overboard last night; it is likely


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 73
that this did not occur until your watch. Did you hear
anything or see anything while you were acting as look-
out that has any bearing on the tragedy?”
"No, sir.”
“Did you see Mr. Quigley on deck at any time during
your watch?"
"No, sir. There was nobody about but the watch that
I saw."
“Who gave you that black eye?”
For a moment Jay Cranston looked at the Captain, as
if unable to make up his mind to answer, then he said:
"Quigley. I said the dice were crooked and he caught
me on the eye before I could duck it.”
“That's all, Jay. Tell Starr to come up here.”
The young man vanished quickly, obviously relieved
that nothing worse had happened to him. When he was
quite beyond earshot, Captain Lanfrey turned to us.
"Jay Cranston is that young man's name,” he said.
"He's a nephew by a former marriage. My second wife's
sister's boy. He's practically worthless. He's on board be-
cause he misrepresented himself to my agent who signed
on the crew for this voyage. That explains his 'Uncle
Carlos' to me. It wasn't an impertinence.”
“I thought there was something familiar about that
chap's face, Carlos,” said Rogers. “I spoke of it night be-
fore last to Benny when Jay, fleeing from the row, passed
us on deck.”
Our conversation was interrupted by Starr who evi-
dently had been awaiting summons not far away. He
came into the office without invitation and sat down in
the chair. His sober face indicated he was aware of the


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 75
account book. The book reminded him of another line
of approach and he embarked upon it. But first he asked
a question.
“You took Mr. Quigley a whisky and soda. Why wasn't
his glass found in his room this morning when Professor
Rogers and Mr. Bartlett checked over the contents?”
"I had removed it, sir.”
“Removed it? When?"
“Shortly after breakfast, sir, when I discovered Mr.
Quigley's room was unoccupied.”
“Starr,” Captain Lanfrey suddenly shot at him, "you
lost $380 in a crap game in Quigley's room night before
last.”
“Yes, sir,” said Starr, without a quiver of apprehension
in his sober voice.
Captain Lanfrey's eyes bored into the face before him
for a long moment, then he went on: “Professor Rogers
and Mr. Bartlett found in their check up of Quigley's
affairs that he kept accurate account of financial matters.
He had recorded in this book here,” he passed it across
to Starr with the page opened to the entry in question,
“the amounts he won from you and Cranston and Ernest,
plus the amount of money he had when the voyage
started. The money they found, however, is exactly $380
less than the account says it should be. What about it?"
Starr handed the book back to the Captain after a brief
glance at it. He screwed up his eyes slightly as if in con-
centration, and then said, “I'll tell you how that was, sir.
I believed the dice were crooked. It was money I had
saved and I'd worked hard for it, sir. When it was sure
this morning that Mr. Quigley had been drowned I


76
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
thought to myself that by rights what had been mine was
still mine. I want to be honest with you, sir, because you
have always been square with me.” With a swift move-
ment Starr's hand dived into a pocket, extracted a roll
of bills and tossed it upon Lanfrey's desk.
“There it is, sir, all of it. When I knew for certain that
Mr. Quigley was lost I went to his room, sir, and took
what was mine, and no more, sir."
For a moment there was silence in the room; from out-
side came the sound of the wind in a ventilator and the
footfall of the officer on the bridge. Suddenly Captain
Lanfrey leaned forward and with thick fingers shoved the
money back towards the steward.
"Keep it, Starr. That's all.”


IN the succeeding days the tragedy of Jack Quigley
dropped somewhat from conversation; his place at table
was, of course, eliminated; the stateroom he had occu-
pied remained locked. Nevertheless, his passing was a
somber memory to us as the Cyrene II fled onward into
bluer seas within the same unendingly limited horizon.
We took our daily turns about the deck; we ate and slept
and talked and worked away at whatever we could find
to do in our staterooms. Always there was the sea, and the
sky, and the same white ship moving onward in the ever-
lasting wash of water along her sleek sides.
One bright morning Professor Huntoon Rogers lined
us up on a sunny deck and took the official photographs
of the members of the expedition. Rogers was reading
less now and spending more time in a room on the deck
below that on which the staterooms were located; here
had been fitted up a photographic studio.
"Look at the film stacked along there,” he pointed out
to me one afternoon, when I had dropped in on him to
discover what he was up to. “There's enough there surely
to last an expedition of this kind six months at least.”
“There's movie film here, too, isn't there?" I asked,
looking at the cans.
“Yes, there's that, too. I'm not as experienced with that
Calis.


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
as with stills, but I think I can manage.”
"If I knew anything about it at all, Hunt, I'd offer my
services. I offer them anyway."
“Thanks, Benny; it may not be necessary. I think I can
get along. If I require help perhaps Carlos will let me
have Jay Cranston.”
“The nephew?"
“Yes. Carlos was talking to me about him yesterday.
The boy has had a varied career, almost a checkered one.
He helped awhile around the cameras on a studio lot in
Hollywood.”
"Think you can trust him?"
"'I don't know. Does he strike you that way?”
“Yes.”
He whistled softly to himself as he tinkered with the
shutter of a large camera. “Maybe I'd better tell you
more about the chap, Benny,” said Rogers, as he worked
away. “Carlos was quite talkative yesterday about him.
It's not confidential. If Carlos felt he knew you a little
better he'd tell you the same as he told me. For he's a
fine fellow. I've never had a better friend. I've been poor
all my life, and he's been rich, but that doesn't make
any difference.”
“He takes this sort of thing—the expedition-very ser-
iously."
“Naturally. But about the nephew. Carlos is always
trying to do something for him, even though the marital
tie between Carlos and his second wife-which was the
boy's connection-has been dissolved and Carlos has re-
married. He gets the boy something to do, then Jay at-
tracts trouble to himself and clears out. When he heard


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
79
about the expedition he came to Carlos and wanted to
go along. Carlos said no. That was the last Carlos heard
of it until the first morning out from San Pedro, when
he found him among the crew.”
“Do you suppose a fellow like that can be relied on to
give accurate testimony?”
“You mean of the night Quigley went overboard?"
“Yes."
He was silent several moments. “I don't know. Carlos,
though, if you've been wondering about it at all, has
questioned the other members of the watch that night;
not only the watch that Cranston was in, but the watch
before it. Both Mr. Getty, the chief officer, and Mr.
Davis, the second, who had those watches, and all the
other members of the ship's company, even to the cook
and the men in the engine room. He's been thorough.
And nobody has any word to report of Quigley subse-
quent to eleven-forty-five, when Starr says he carried him
down a whisky and soda. Carlos, though, I'm sure, feels
that Quigley was alive much later than that. He won't
say what he bases it on, however. There was a perfectly
calm sea that night according to the log; nobody has said
that he so much as felt a heavy wave or anything that
could throw a man off his balance so that he would fall
overboard."
“Let's go up on deck,” I said. “If you are through put-
tering around down here with those cameras."
“Yes, I've finished.” He got up from his chair. “What's
on your mind?”
“Let's go all around the deck railing and satisfy our-
selves just what would happen if a man standing at the


80 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
rail suddenly became dizzy, or fainted.”
We went up and beginning at the stern went com-
pletely around the deck. I don't know why we had not
thought to do it before. We paused at the end of our
round, leaning our elbows upon the top and looking off
over the sea.
"There's not a break in the rail,” I said. “And it's high.
You're tall, Hunt. You stoop very little to lean your el-
bows upon it. Now what would happen if a man were
leaning upon it and he should suddenly grow dizzy and
faint?”
"He'd fall down upon the deck, inside the railing.”
“Exactly."
We were silent a moment. A school of porpoise a quar-
ter of a mile off our bow was keeping pace with the ship,
leaping regularly and sinuously in single file and diving
again, so that they appeared to resemble a giant sea ser-
pent. Presently Rogers said:
"And so what?”
“Quigley either jumped over,” I answered, “or else
he was thrown by someone.”
The silence between us lengthened. The school of
porpoise disappeared completely. Rogers rubbed his
large nose and settled his glasses more firmly upon it.
“I'd hoped, Benny, you wouldn't say that," he re-
marked softly.
“Somebody is going to say it sooner or later."
“Yes, I know. But it raises a question even more diffi-
cult to solve than the ones we've tried to get to the bot-
tom of. The 'when' and 'how' of Quigley's disappearance
have been fairly settled. “Why' is something I hope we


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 81
don't have to go into. Personally, I prefer to think of it
as an accident.”
And so did I. For a long time after Rogers left me I
stood at the rail gazing off over the sea. Thinking of it
as an accident would be much the best way for all of us.
Some such thought as this was running through my mind
when the short, dumpy figure of Mrs. Gorell obtruded
itself at the rail near my side. I glanced at her and spoke.
“I've been wanting to talk to you, Mr. Bartlett," she
said, shoving along until her dark face was close to my
shoulder.
"I hope I've not been neglecting you, Mrs. Gorell,”
I said. She eyed me a bit suspiciously as if I might be
guilty of flippancy. “I assure you I would not intention-
ally do that.”
She ignored my remark, and took out her handker-
chief, then removed her glasses and proceeded to clean
the salt mist from the lenses. "I hate the sea,” she said.
“One must always be cleaning one's glasses.” I did not
say anything. She finished cleaning the lenses, then put
her glasses back on her nose, wiped her lips and stowed
the handkerchief away in a pocket of her coat. “So you're
one of the San Marino Bartletts," she began.
“Unfortunately, yes," I replied. Again she looked at
me as if I might be spoofing her.
“Why unfortunately?" she demanded.
“We're such an irresponsible family. We children al-
ways have been a great trial to our parents."
“You're not being serious with me, Mr. Bartlett," she
accused.
“I'm sorry."


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 83
voice, opening her lips twice and closing them again be-
fore she found voice.
“Tell me, Mr. Bartlett,” she said confidentially, “what
they think about the death of Mr. Quigley. You seem to
be in the know more than some of us others. Do they
think it was an accident or was it-foul play?” She hesi-
tated over the last two words before she pronounced
them.
I did not reply at once. There was something in her
dark eyes when I glanced at her that startled me into
temporary silence, something strange and fearful; I can
only liken her eyes to the eyes of an animal surprised in
its den by the hunter. I looked away from her and off to
sea for a moment before replying.
"If by 'they' you mean Captain Lanfrey, I don't know.
I don't know what he thinks. I've not discussed the mat-
ter with him. Personally, I think Jack Quigley's death
was an accident." That was on the side of orthodoxy; it
was what I preferred to believe.
My reply was what she wanted to hear. She breathed
more deeply. She was prepared to leave me, now that she
had asked the question, but she remained for a parting
word.
“Thank you, Mr. Bartlett. I was certain you would
know. The Doctor will be glad to know too. It will ease
his mind.”
With that she walked away. I watched her until her
dumpy figure disappeared at the entrance to the com-
panionway on the after deck, and I wondered at the
childlike faith with which she had accepted my opinion
as final; it indicated a mind extraordinarily wishful of


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
such an explanation. And so it would ease the mind of
her husband. Had those two old busybodies been worry-
ing over the thing, half fearful of the truth, as eager to
snatch the comforting assurance they hoped for as a
hungry fish is avid for the bait?
It gave me much to think about as I stood there at the
rail watching the strange light of the sinking sun on the
somber bronze area of the sea.


A QUICK footfall came along the deck and I turned to ob-
serve what manner of person could exhibit such energy
at the close of day. I saw Alice Wilmer. She waved her
hand at me and smiled, but did not alter her pace. How-
ever, she called over her shoulder as though I might
require an explanation of her behavior.
“Exercise!” she said and passed out of sight. In a few
minutes she reappeared, walking towards me again, hav-
ing completed the circuit of the deck. She was clad in a
brown skirt and a white pull-over sweater; her white-shod
feet seemed to twinkle as she walked. The fading light of
the sun glistened on her blond hair. Again she raised her
hand to wave, and this time she tossed the word “lazy" at
me, and smiled, but did not stop.
I joined her on the third round, and slowed her pace
a trifle.
"What's the matter? Are you crippled or something?”
she demanded.
"No. Just old age creeping upon me."
She laughed at this feeble sally, her eyes alight. It was
the first genuine laugh I had heard since the Quigley
tragedy. “I expected to find you down in the lounge with
the cocktail crowd,” she jibed at me.
"Is it that time of day?”
85


86
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
“Mrs. Lanfrey has taken charge of old Dr. Ardleigh."
“Is that old buzzard putting them away at his time of
life?"
"Why not? I had one-"
“Who's there?”
“Mrs. Lanfrey, Docs. Ardleigh and French, and the
Captain.”
"I didn't know French would stop working long
enough for that.”
“You don't know Dr. French,” she said. “He can be
the gayest dog in the kennel, when he wants to.”
“Are the Gorells there?”
"No. You wouldn't expect them, would you?”
“Probably not.”
We walked almost a complete round of the deck be-
fore we said anything else. Then she said: “Jack Quigley
was jammed into this.”
"What do you mean 'jammed into this?”
"He didn't know he was going until just the day be-
fore.”
“There's no dodging one's fate, is there?”
“Now, please, don't start that,” she said; her face lost
its smile. She waved a slim arm at the sea. "I'm trying to
forget that. There's something terrible about the sea. It
frightens me when I let myself think about it. Perhaps I
shouldn't have mentioned Jack to you at all. We're all
trying to forget it."
“Before we get off the subject, though-did he have any
family? Was he married?”
“Yes and no. He had a wife. They had been separated
a long time. She was bringing suit for divorce, but the


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
87
tov
case hadn't come up yet. Oh, but she was bitter towards
him. And her family was, too, I understand.”
“Who was she? Anybody we know?"
Alice shook her head. “I don't think so. I never heard
who she was before she married. I saw her once. A beau-
tiful girl. Jack came to live at the apartment where his
sister and I live, after his wife left him."
We dropped the subject. The more we said the more
it seemed we were picking a bit indecently over details
that little concerned us. Our exercise period ceased and
we stood at the rail watching the sun slip into a low fog
bank, where it turned a blood red then vanished alto-
gether from sight. The sea lost its bright color and be-
came dull and gray and darkness soon closed down.
“Will you walk with me again some time?" suddenly
asked the girl. She stood away from the rail, one slim arm
thrust out to it in support.
“I'd like to," I said.
Her eyes seemed to dance. “It's time I was dressing for
dinner,” she said. “Good-bye.”
“So long,” I said, and watched her hurry towards the
companionway. There was something very attractive
about her. And she was very beautiful, too. I wished she
had not gone.
The lounge door swung open before I had turned back
to the rail, and Dr. Gorell stepped out. He wore a white
cap and a dark suit that hung baggily about his pudgy
figure. Between his lips was clamped a black pipe. He
appeared to be in search of a few moments of solitude,
but when he saw me he came over to the rail.
“Good evening, Bartlett,” he began pleasantly, lifting


88
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
his elbows to rest them on the rail. “The sun's gone, I
see.”
“Good evening, Doctor," I returned.
He was content to smoke awhile in silence. Instead of
the irascible spirit he had manifested heretofore, he
seemed now calm and mellow of mood. Presently he re-
marked: “We're beginning to get pretty far south.”
“We can expect a landfall in a day or two now, I un-
derstand.”
“I should think so.” He puffed on his pipe. “You're
lucky, young man, to be on this expedition. Risner was
keen on it. He didn't talk anything else for days. Did you
find the lists he had drawn up of the specimens the Mu-
seum wants? He made them out and showed them to
me.”
“Yes. I'm going to be very busy collecting all of those."
"Well," and Dr. Gorell shot an appraising glance at
me, “you're young and strong. I envy you your physique
and your youth.”
“Are you planning an extensive collection of shells,
Doctor?"
“Yes," he hesitated, “that is, fairly extensive. Some of
the known types, and then the new ones wherever I find
them, of course, but particularly any land shells at the
higher altitudes.”
"That's going to mean a lot of climbing, Doctor, over
those old lava beds."
“Yes, I know,” he sighed. “I'm getting on, of course,
but I am not too old yet to do it."
"Of course you're not.”
"Perhaps you will be joining me on some of my hikes,”


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 89
he remarked. There was invitation in his tone, a hopeful
note that conveyed an earnest desire that I do so. It had
been only too apparent that Gorell and Ardleigh were
not overly friendly. That clash at the table the first night
out had made that clear. Since then they seemed to have
avoided each other; and I had imagined that the irrita-
ble old conchologist, except for his wife's companion-
ship, was in for a somewhat lonely time on the expedi-
tion.
“I'll be glad to join forces with you, Doctor, any time
I am going into the interior.”
"Thanks, Bartlett. I'm beginning to be eager for the
fray. We have shaken off the home land completely now,
and I'm sort of like an old fire horse who has heard the
alarm. Have you got good shoes with you?” he inquired
solicitously.
“Yes. Several pairs. I've been to Galapagos before, Doc-
tor; I know how that sharp lava cuts.”
"Well, that's good. I'm glad you have. I've never been
to the Galapagos. But Risner had, and he saw to it that
I got proper shoes. By the way, is there a physician in the
expedition-a medical man? I don't remember to have
met one. Illness or accident is quite likely on such a trip
as this.” He knocked out his pipe on the rail and drew a
leather case from his pocket and stowed it away.
“You've already met the physician,” I said.
"Who?-I don't remember,”
“Captain Lanfrey,” I said, repeating information I had
gathered from Huntoon Rogers. “He's a graduate, served
his internship and practiced for ten years, and keeps up
with the profession now, even though he has retired from


90
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
practice.”
“Astonishing, Bartlett, astonishing. I mean Lanfrey is
such an amazingly versatile chap. He talks conchology
with me almost like a veteran, and he captains this ship.
He's no courtesy captain, I've discovered, who has a sail-
ing master to do the actual work. He does it all himself.
I feel very humble with my one talent."
"You are right, Dr. Gorell; Carlos Lanfrey is a most
versatile man."
Starr with his dinner gong came along the deck, sum-
moning us to the evening meal.
"I'm hungry,” said Gorell. “Let's go in."
It was quite dark when I came on deck again; the
blackness of the open lonely sea was everywhere about. It
was in striking contrast to the scene which I had just left
behind me in the beautifully appointed dining saloon
where the members of the expedition had dined well,
and where something approaching almost to gaiety had
developed. Dr. French, the laconic, the silent one, had
thawed to the extent of telling an amusing story and en-
gaging in an exchange of persiflage with Mrs. Lanfrey,
whose now obvious and self-appointed mission on board
was to break down the stiffness of our varied collection of
scientific personalities. Even Dr. Gorell, in a moment of
sheer abandon, offered a light to Ardleigh, and the old
boy took it with a smile and said: “Thanks, old fellow.”
The dinner ended with the drinking of a toast to the ex-
pedition's success, proposed by Mrs. Lanfrey.
Thus officially, it seemed to me as I walked along the
deck in the darkness, was ended the period of depression
which had followed upon the loss overboard of Jack


92
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
board. Our collective spirits at meal time are now back
to the level they attained on the first dinner we had to-
gether. As a group we seem to be trying to forget some-
thing, willing and wanting to forget it.”
“You're referring to Quigley's death, of course,
French?”
“Yes. You know, Bartlett, there has to be a reason for
a thing like that. Any intelligent person realizes that fact,
and further, he knows that no sound reason has been
suggested to explain why Quigley was lost.”
“An accident, perhaps,"
“What kind of accident?” he pressed me.
"Something unavoidable-he tripped and fell—"
“Now, Bartlett, you have more intelligence than that.”
“What do you want me to say, French?”
He was silent a moment. "Shall we walk about for a
little exercise?” he suggested. I fell into step beside him.
Presently he said, his voice pitched only for my ear:
“There was gambling, as you know, in which Quigley
won considerable money. From members of the crew.
Isn't it possible that Quigley may have wandered up on
deck while we were all asleep and someone from whom
he had won money had made an effort to get it back?
And when it was refused there was a scuffle which ended
in Quigley being badly hurt, and the antagonist in a
moment of fright at what he had done and anticipating
the consequences of his act, threw Quigley overboard?”
We walked several yards before I replied. “It's possi-
ble," I admitted.
“But probable?-Don't you think some such explana-


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 93
tion as that is probable, Bartlett?"
We had circled the deck and were approaching the
forward turn again.
"French," I began, “I hesitate to say."
He halted me as a man will do who is pressing a point
of view. My eyes wandered away from his dark face
shadowed by his cap, under the visor of which only his
thin nose and the full lips were visible.
“I haven't got the running of this boat,” he began. “I'm
not Captain Lanfrey. But if I were, I think I should in-
vestigate along some such line as that. The law follows
a ship to sea, you know; no one can escape the conse-
quences of his felonious act,”
I halted French with an uplifted hand, moved nearer
to the rail and looked down upon the deck below, which
was open and uncovered forward to the bow. Something I
saw there in the dim light cast by a single electric bulb
had attracted my attention.
"If there has been foul play, Bartlett, I'd say,"
“Just a minute, French,” I said, shutting him off.
“There's something down there on the lower deck.”
"What?” He came to my side and looked down. Below
us on the deck lay sprawled a man. His attitude was not
that of a man lying at his ease; rather, the position of his
arms and legs suggested that he had been dumped there,
or had fallen.
I sprang for the companionway, and hastened down
it, followed by French. We reached the man's side and
dropped beside the still form.
"Hurt, are you?" demanded French, touching him


For several hours Jay Cranston lay unconscious in one
of the after cabins; then he regained his senses but con-
tinued for a day or so to be a very sick young man. There
was only conjecture as to what had happened. Captain
Lanfrey considered it unwise to question him while his
condition remained uncertain. Meanwhile the Cyrene
II moved steadily onward towards our destination in the
Galapagos, now become very close. We might expect
soon to come up with the “Enchanted Isles," as they were
known to their Spanish discoverers.
“Cranston is proving a source of embarrassment to
Carlos,” remarked Huntoon Rogers, coming out of the
tiny darkroom in the photographic studio. He carried a
strip of wet film about the size of motion picture negative.
“The boy must be all of that,” I commented. We had
been talking while Rogers worked at odd jobs in prep-
aration for the larger labor to come.
"I think if it were possible for Carlos to transship him
and send him home, he would do it; but we're too close
to the islands now to meet anything, unless it were a fish-
ing schooner, that could be counted on to take him back.”
“Any idea what happened to Cranston?”
"Nothing definite. No. But I think it was nothing more
than a fight in which Cranston got the worst of it. Some-
95


96
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
body in the crew knocked him over probably. Carlos
was telling me that he is bringing the boy back among
the passengers when he recovers; taking him out of the
crew altogether.”
"That means, I suppose, that you'll get him as helper
in your photographic work.”
“Yes.” Rogers looked at me for a moment through
his large lenses, then rubbed the side of his nose thought-
fully. "We'll get along. I told Carlos I'd be glad to do what
I could to influence the boy to less violent ways. Perhaps
that's extreme optimism on my part. But I think all that's
needed is to interest the boy in something he likes. Per-
haps that thing is photography."
"Let's hope so. How's he getting along today?"
“Better. Nothing serious with him. He's young and
sound.” Rogers whistled a short tune, examining the
drying strip of film against the light of an electric bulb.
“What are you up to now, Hunt?” I asked.
“Oh, this?" He indicated the film.
“Yes."
“You remember that little German camera we found
in Quigley's stuff?"
“Yes."
“This is the film that was in it. That's the camera
there."
"How come?"
"Some of you fellows are going to need a camera to
carry with you on your trips. I can't go with everybody,
nor can Granston, if he's up and around by then. I
thought this one would be a good one for you."
“That's an idea. I didn't bring one."


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 97
“Carlos gave me permission to take it from Quigley's
luggage. There was some film in it and I'm developing
it."
He held the strip up to the light bulb over the work
bench, gazing at the tiny pictures. He ran them through
hurriedly and then paused over the last one. After a
moment's inspection he took a large reading glass from
the drawer and held it upon the final picture and studied
it for some minutes.
"Humph!” he said, and laid down the glass and rubbed
his nose. “Quigley hadn't taken a picture with that
camera for more than a year."
"How do you know that?"
“Easy. The last one on his string is of a Japanese battle
ship in the harbor at San Pedro. I remember when that
ship was there. I took almost the identical picture myself.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” His voice rose in mild surprise at my question.
"It was a year ago last month.”
“Quigley wasn't what you'd call a camera enthusiast,
was he?".
“Maybe not,” Rogers replied, pinning the drying strip
to the edge of the overhead shelf so that it hung down
above the bench. “Most likely he picked it up in his room
when he was packing and put it in his bag, thinking he
might have use of it on this trip."
I got up from my chair and went over to the strip, held
the light bulb behind it and took up the reading glass.
The negatives were of the usual type that a camera-
minded person would take. There were several views
taken no doubt for their scenic beauty, or to commemo-


98
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
rate some incident associated with them. There were
several of various persons unknown to me, one or two
portrait studies, and one of a group of four persons which
I passed over at first, then came back to as one will by a
strange impulse. I pored over it so long that Rogers came
and stood at my shoulder.
"What have you found?”
“See what you make of it,” I said, handing him the
the glass. He took it and while I held the light bulb be-
hind the tiny negative, he examined it carefully.
"Humph!” he grunted. “Something familiar about
them, isn't there?"
"Quite. Do you make them out?"
“Two of them-the older couple. Yes, and the young
man. But I don't recognize the young woman."
"I don't either, but the other three I'm quite cer-
tain of.”
Rogers put down the glass and I let the bulb swing
free on its cord. Rogers looked at me, a curious expres-
sion on his face. He picked up the reading glass again and
once more went to the strip of negative. Finally he said:
“I'm going to enlarge that, Benny. It interests me.”
He proceeded to set up his apparatus.
“In what way does it interest you?”
“I don't know whether you noticed it or not, but I
didn't at any time see the Gorells speak to Quigley, or he
speak to them. They were ignoring each other.”
“I'll admit, Hunt,” I said, “I didn't notice that. But
I've got a suggestion.”
"What?”
"I want Alice Wilmer to see that enlargement." He


100 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
show you something."
“What?”
We quitted the rail and turned towards the companion-
way.
“Down in the photographic studio. Rogers is down
there."
“What is it?"
“Patience,” I said.
Rogers was in the darkroom when we entered. “Is
that you, Benny?" he called out.
“Yes. Alice is with me."
"I'll be out in just a minute.”
“What are you two up to?" Alice asked, sitting down.
"It's something Benny thought might interest you,
Miss Wilmer,” called Rogers. "I'm coming with it now.”
Rogers came out of the darkroom with a large photo-
graphic print. He laid it on the work-bench and beck-
oned us.
"Oh,” said Alice softly, her eyes intent upon the photo-
graph.
"It's an excellent picture,” said Rogers. “That camera
does beautiful work, Benny. Look how clear the detail
is in it."
“That's Jack Quigley,” Alice said. “Isn't it splendid
of him? And the Gorells-Doctor and Mrs. Gorell_"
“Do you know the young woman?”
“Wait!" She put out her hand to halt me. “It is! Why-"
“Who is she?" demanded Rogers.
"It's Jack's wife.”
For a moment we were silent. Rogers looked at me
across the top of Alice's blond head. There was a curious


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
101
expression upon his face.
“Are you sure, Miss Wilmer?” he asked. “I've known
the Gorells for some years now, but I've never met the
daughter."
“Yes, of course I'm sure,” she turned to face Rogers.
“I don't forget faces. I saw her down town in Los Angeles
one day a month ago when I was with Edith Quigley-
Jack's sister. Edith said: 'There's Betty now, Alice. Look
quick!'”
"Was that after Quigley and his wife had separated?”
I asked, “and he had come to live at the same apartment
where you and his sister live?"
"Oh, yes. They've been separated perhaps a year. But
why are you two so excited about it?” she asked, looking
from me to Rogers. I waited for Rogers to answer her;
at length he said slowly:
“We've found it very interesting,” he said casually.
“If you will notice there is a very marked family resem-
blance between the young woman and the two Gorells."
Alice seized the photograph and gazed at it intently.
“There is, isn't there?” she said. “But-that's funny."
Her face was a puzzle. “Why, that-it-why, Jack Quigley
was the Gorells' son-in-law, then, wasn't he?"
"It looks very much like it," I said.
“They were so bitter towards Jack. Why, Edith Quigley
told me that Jack's father-in-law was so enraged with him
one night he tried to shoot him. He would have if Jack
hadn't taken the gun away from him.”
"Humph!” The quiet exclamation was from Rogers.
He picked up the photograph and dropped it into the
drawer in the bench. The silence began to grow amongst


102 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
us. How much longer it would have lasted, what partic-
ular thoughts would have found expression in the next
few minutes, I do not know. For at that moment there
was a commotion on deck. We heard the clatter of run-
ning feet, and the sound of muffled voices shouting:
“Land! Land!”
The three of us dashed out of the studio and ran for
the companionway. We gained the deck to find the mem-
bers of the expedition and many of the crew on the star-
board side well forward. They were gazing almost dead
ahead. We joined them. French, observing us, pointed
with a freckled hand. “Land ahead!” he cried. “See it?"
"No, I don't, Doctor. Where? Show me," begged Alice.
I tapped her on the shoulder. “I told you you wouldn't
recognize it when you saw it," I reminded her. She
laughed.
“Do you see it?" she challenged me.
"Yes. I do. Fix your eyes on that cloud ahead. High up.
Then follow two faint spreading lines towards the sea.
The dark area there. See it! Like a blunt wedge thrust
up from the depths of hell. That's Indefatigable Island,
one of the largest of the Galapagos Archipelago."
"I see it now,” said Rogers.
“Oh, so do Il” exclaimed Alice.
Huntoon Rogers at my side muttered something in
my ear. I looked at him questioningly and he repeated it.
“As you said, Benny. From the depths of hell. It's like a
portent of doom.”


13
In the late afternoon we dropped anchor in the angle
made by the small Seymours with Indefatigable Island.
The engines stopped; the constant vibration of days on
end, the interminable swish of water along the ship's
sides, and the sound of the wind, ceased altogether. We
floated on a calm surface as smooth as a mirror and our
ears were made uncomfortable by the silence, our legs
unsteady by decks suddenly become firm.
We had reached the Galapagos Islands, that generally
little known and much neglected volcanic archipelago
under the equator and lying some 500 or more miles off
the coast of Ecuador. Here Robinson Crusoe had been
brought by the buccaneers who had rescued him from
his lonely exile on San Juan Fernandez. Pirates and
whalers and privateersmen had rendezvoused here in
decades long past. More than a century before we dropped
our hook that afternoon a young Englishman had visited
the Galapagos, studied its life and come away to write
a book that profoundly influenced the scientific thought
of the world.
The Cyrene Il floating so gracefully at her anchorage,
equipped with every luxury the shipbuilders could lavish
upon her, made in my thoughts, as I stood leaning over
the rail in the quiet of sunset, a vivid contrast to the dis-
103


104 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
comforts that Darwin must have endured aboard the
little sailing vessel H.M.S. Beagle. We were not Darwins,
any of us, we had come to collect specimens for a museum;
to make, if possible, any discoveries other scientists might
have overlooked; to study at first hand the problems pre-
sented by the odd assortment of wild life to be found
on the various islands and in the seas round about.
Our voyage down to the islands from San Pedro had
been more like a luxury cruise than a scientific expedi-
tion. It had been pleasant and without incident, except
of course for the loss overboard the second night out of
Jack Quigley, our photographer. The exception, how-
ever, constantly loomed larger in my mind; it had grown
to overshadow all else at times, as I am sure it did in the
minds of others among the members of the expedition.
Captain Carlos Lanfrey had conducted an inquiry that
had settled the manner in which Quigley must have gone
to his death, and the approximate time, but the very
nature of the circumstances had left doubts in the minds
of some of us. There was the question of why a vigorous
and healthy young man like Quigley could have met
with an accident that resulted in his being drowned;
how could it have happened?
“I've asked you to come in, Benny,” said Captain Lan-
frey, addressing me by my first name as I entered his
stateroom. “The four of us want to have a quiet talk-
about Quigley."
Dinner was over. It had been followed by a general
conference in which the various members of the expedi-
tion had indicated their plans for the following day, our
first on land. French was going to keep along shore in a


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 105
small boat. Ardleigh was planning to do little of a tangible
nature. Gorell would hunt for shells along the shore line
barrows. I expected to take a few birds I wanted near
the coast, and Rogers proposed to make some photographs
of a general nature.
It was Rogers who whispered to me at the break up of
the conference. “Carlos wants to see you in his stateroom
in about half an hour,” he advised, but did not indicate
what was afoot. It was no surprise, however, to hear as
I entered the Captain's stateroom that Quigley was the
subject of our talk. For, it seemed to me, Quigley was
just the subject we should have selected for a serious dis-
cussion.
I glanced about the beautifully furnished stateroom.
Mrs. Lanfrey's graceful figure was curled up on a deep
davenport. Huntoon Rogers was relaxed in a comfort-
able arm chair. Lanfrey occupied a seat near a small desk.
He waved me to a place between himself and Rogers. I
sat down and Lanfrey began at once to talk.
"Quigley, of course, is gone,” he said. “Nothing can
bring him back. I've proceeded as far as it seemed pos-
sible to go in the investigation and definitely determined
only the fact that Starr was the last man to see Quigley
alive-at eleven-forty-five-when he went to take him a
whisky and soda which Quigley had called for. That
Quigley must have gone overboard is only too apparent-
he's not on the ship. But why? Why did Quigley go over-
board? I keep asking myself that question.”
"You're not the only one, Carlos,” said Rogers, resting
his elbows on the arms of his chair and bringing the tips
of his fingers together before his face. “I've puzzled over


106 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
it a great deal.”
“And no doubt you have too, Benny,” said Lanfrey,
turning to me.
"Yes. I can't see it as an accident, Captain.”
“As suicide, then?” Lanfrey asked slowly.
“No, nor suicide.”
The four of us were silent. Mrs. Lanfrey reached for
a cigarette on the small table alongside the davenport,
and abstractedly tapped it endwise upon her left wrist.
Finally Lanfrey said:
“You narrow it down to a terrifying conclusion,
Benny.”
"Jack had a sweet, childlike disposition; he wasn't
quarrelsome even when he was drunk,” Mrs. Lanfrey
said, her brown eyes fixed on mine. She added: "I knew
him. We had played around together some in Hollywood
before I married Carlos."
"I'm not going to defend my conclusion, Captain,” I
said. “It's personal. For that matter, I don't believe I have
to defend it. It's there; it's just as bald as anything can be.
I've reached it by the same mental process that's available
to anybody else.”
“I agree with Benny, Carlos,” said Rogers. “You can't
escape it.”
"Well,” said Captain Lanfrey, a strange look in his
blue eyes, “I agree with you, but I don't want to. It's
a terrible thing; it's a blot on my expedition I'd give any-
thing to remove. However, I have a duty. I can't escape
the responsibilities of my place as leader of this expedi-
tion and as captain of this vessel. What I propose to do
now is to explore the possibilities in this situation, re-


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 107
garding it as a-murder.”
An extraordinary quiet settled down upon the four of
us. The word murder now had been used for the first
time since the realization broke on the ship's company
that Quigley had been lost overboard. Mrs. Lanfrey at
last stopped tapping the cigarette upon her wrist and
lighted it. Her action served to break our silence. Rogers,
his finger tips still held lightly together before his face,
remarked:
“The practical way to begin, Carlos, seems to me to
divide ourselves into the two natural divisions, the crew
and the members of the expedition.”
“That's right."
"And as for the crew I think it boils down to those
three who were gambling with Quigley the first night out.
Gambling, the loss of money, the charge of crooked dice
and the consequent hot blood which simmers until it
finally explodes, has been at the bottom of many a killing.
It's motive enough in certain natures."
“Yes, Hunt,” replied Lanfrey. “I'll grant it. But look
who those three are. Take Ernest. His father has been
my head gardener since the boy was born; I've known him
ever since he was a little chap; nothing so violent as
murder is in his makeup. I'd stake my life on it."
"I'm sure he's right about that, Professor,” said Mrs.
Lanfrey, knocking the ash from her cigarette. “Of course
I haven't known the boy any length of time. But it-
well-it just isn't possible.”
“All right, then,” said Rogers, continuing in his easy
conversational way. “We'll eliminate Ernest from the
picture. But how about Starr?"


108 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
I broke in at this point to say something that had been
frequently in my thoughts since Starr tossed $380 upon
Captain Lanfrey's desk that morning of the investigation.
"Starr,” I said, looking at Lanfrey, “struck me when he
was answering your questions as either a most ingenuous
chap, or else a very deep one-".
"You're referring now, are you, Benny,” interrupted
Rogers, “to the frank manner in which he admitted he
had taken the money from Quigley's room when he
realized the man was drowned?"
"Yes. What had been his was still his after Quigley
was dead. There might very easily have been a purpose
back of such seeming frankness. He can't prove the money
came back to him in that way—".
“Now, let me tell you boys something," Lanfrey in-
terrupted, vigorously. "Starr has been with me six years. I
picked him out of a bunch of pork-and-beaners hanging
around a fight camp back east where he was trying to get
on as a sparring partner. He'd had an education and
spoke well. And there was something about the fellow I
liked. But he was a servant type that didn't belong in the
prize ring; his training was all against it, even though he
did have the weight and the reach. And, anyway, he was
then an old man to the fight game.
"Since then Starr has had a thousand opportunities
to steal from me, from small sums to big. He's been with
me in places where he could have knocked me in the head
and got away with no suspicion ever coming home to him.
I talked cold turkey to him before I hired him; I told
him if ever I caught him in a dishonest thing or a lie we
were through. Starr has been square. When he handed


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
109
over the money it, to me, was only another instance of
his putting all his cards on the table.”
Captain Lanfrey's defense of Starr was a tribute to the
steward's honesty and loyalty, and for a moment it had
the effect of quieting any doubts of the man, and then
Rogers spoke up, weighing his words carefully.
“But it isn't the quality of either honesty or loyalty,
Carlos, that has particular bearing,"
"But, Hunt-"
“Wait a minute, Carlos,” and Rogers waved him off.
“Starr, by his own admission, was the last man to have
seen Quigley alive-at rather a late hour. We don't know
what may have happened between Quigley and Starr at
their little gambling session, or subsequent thereto, that
may have turned Starr, despite his honesty and loyalty,
into a murderer”
“French," I began, interrupting Rogers, “was theoriz-
ing to me the other night. The tragedy might have arisen
out of a quarrel over the repayment of the money;
Quigley might have been knocked down and badly hurt,
and his antagonist, not having meant to go so far, became
panic stricken and threw Quigley overboard.”
Rogers picked up my words immediately. “There very
well might have been more to the conversation between
Quigley and Starr when the latter brought him the whisky
and soda. A fight might have occurred in the cabin-"
"Oh-!” exclaimed Captain Lanfrey, with an exasper-
ated shake of his blond head—“you fellows-I'll admit
there always has to be a first time or there would never
be any murders. But I'll say this; right now, the way I feel,
I would be a character witness for Starr if he were being


110 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
tried for murder.”
“But will you grant us this point, Carlos: Starr is not
to be eliminated from consideration?”
"Yes. All right. But you know how I feel. Have a
cigarette, Benny,” he said to me, relaxing. “Help your-
self there.” He took a cigarette himself and lighted up.
“That leaves only one more of the crew," persisted
Rogers.
“You mean Jay Cranston," I began, without however
finishing what I had in mind to say. For Mrs. Lanfrey
suddenly stiffened in her corner of the davenport and be-
came very quiet. There was something belligerent in her
reaction. I noted that Rogers glanced with a curious ex-
pression at Lanfrey. An awkward silence was broken by
the latter.
“Yes, Jay Cranston,” he said, "the boy-".
Mrs. Lanfrey suddenly sat upright on the davenport,
putting her feet firmly to the floor; there was a trifle of
anger in her brown eyes but her voice was calm enough.
“Carlos,” she said with a determined tone, "you prom-
ised me you would not permit that fellow to come on
“I thought I was keeping my promise, my dear,” said
the Captain, quietly. “The boy forged my name to a note
and Thurston signed him on.”
“But he's not your nephew; he's Ada's, and you know
what our agreement was about the second Mrs. Lanfrey
and her relatives—her relatives, not yours.”
“I know, dear. I have explained to you how it happens
that Jay is on board. I had intended to tell you before
this, but I have had so many things on my mind. You


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
111
don't even know the boy by sight. I don't think he will
trouble you in any way. And the situation is such that
we've got to keep him until we return. I'm sorry."
"Well, I don't want anything to do with him. Tell him
to keep away from me," she snapped, and lay back among
the cushions on the davenport.
In the awkward pause that followed Rogers broke
silence. “The boy can be eliminated, I suppose, Carlos,
from consideration.” He spoke perfunctorily.
“Yes, he's out,” replied the Captain. We dropped the
ticklish subject of Jay Cranston, although the boy had
carried a black eye away from the crap game, admittedly
inflicted by Jack Quigley's fist. And even now he still was
confined to a cabin from a mysterious attack as yet un-
explained.
Indistinctly there came the sound of four bells struck
by the watch. Rogers glanced at the timepiece on his
wrist. An all engulfing quiet seemed to have settled upon
the ship. Mrs. Lanfrey appeared to have withdrawn com-
pletely from us, even though she remained on the daven-
port. Captain Lanfrey crushed the fire from his half-
smoked cigarette in an ash tray. Rogers had brought his
finger tips together again before his face. It seemed we
had reached an impasse in our exploration into the
strange and baffling circumstances surrounding Quigley's
death. Finally I spoke:
“Captain," I began, “there are the members of the ex-
pedition. I suppose present company is always excepted.
Mrs. Lanfrey, you, Rogers and I are out—"
“Are we? Am I?” inquired Lanfrey. There was a grim
sort of twist to his lips, which the small, stiff mustache


112 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
seemed to emphasize.
“Well,” I began, for the moment taken aback, “I pre-
fer to consider it so—"
“Go on, Benny; Carlos is only joking,” Mrs. Lanfrey
said.
"All the women, of course, are automatically elimi-
nated,” I said. “Quigley was a large, heavy man, 180
pounds at least. None of the women could have got so
much dead weight over the rail.”
“That leaves Ardleigh, French and Gorell,” said
Rogers.
"Why don't we come to Gorell at once, Hunt?” asked
Lanfrey. "From what you were telling me this afternoon
there is more reason to inquire into his connection with
Quigley than the other two."
“I agree with you, Carlos. Ardleigh and French both
can be dismissed almost as offhandedly as we have dis-
missed the women,"
“What about Gorell?” asked Mrs. Lanfrey, suddenly
coming back to the conversation. With a sweep of her
hand she brushed back the dark mass of her hair with its
single wisp of white over the temple. She looked at
Rogers.
“You tell her, Benny,” said Rogers. “We'll all start
from scratch.”
“The story is quite simple," I began. “Something came
to light this morning, shortly before we discovered land,
that connects Dr. Gorell with Quigley-".
“I think I know what you mean, but go on."
"Hunt developed a strip of film from Quigley's camera.
And in that strip was a picture of four persons which,


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 113
when it was enlarged, showed quite plainly Dr. and Mrs.
Gorell, Quigley, and a young woman whom Alice Wilmer
was able to identify as Quigley's estranged wife. The
consensus was that the young woman, because of strong
family resemblance, was the daughter of the Gorells. In
other words, Quigley was Dr. and Mrs. Gorell's son-in-
law. Alice was able to add this interesting bit of informa-
tion: Quigley had told her once that his father-in-law
had tried to shoot him, would have done so had he not
been disarmed. And Hunt, here, inclines to the belief
that Quigley and the Gorells obviously were avoiding
each other aboard ship. They were, according to Miss
Wilmer, very bitter towards Quigley,”
“Yes, I know that,” said Mrs. Lanfrey, casually.
“You know that, Reba?" asked Captain Lanfrey, in
some surprise.
“Yes,” she answered. “Jack told me,”
"Quigley told you all that himself? Since he came
aboard?"
"Why, yes, of course. You gentlemen should have come
to me if you wanted really to know. It would have saved
all the detective work—”
"But, Reba,”
“Listen, stupid,” began Mrs. Lanfrey, with faint
amusement in her voice at the sudden concern in the
Captain's tone. “I knew Jack Quigley. I told you that.
We'd been good friends a long time. Poor boy, he was so
worked up over everything. He realized he had got in bad
with you, Carlos, over the gambling incident. He wanted
me to do what I could to help him out with you; to in-
tercede, if necessary, to smooth things over."


114 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
“What did he say about the Gorells?” asked Lanfrey.
“Both he and they had got the surprise of their lives
when they discovered they were bound for the Galapagos
and would be cooped up together for several months.”
“Did he say anything else—?”.
"You are awfully eager, you men,” she said tantaliz-
ingly, moving into a more comfortable position on the
davenport. Her brown eyes regarded us with amusement.
“I knew Betty Gorell-Jack's wife. A perfect hell cat.
She made Jack miserable. I don't blame him for pulling
out and leaving her. But her parents were all for her and
against Jack. Natural, of course. Jack said to me the last
time I saw him that night: 'What am I going to do, Reba?
Old Gorell has threatened me,”
“Threatened him?" Both Lanfrey and Rogers uttered
the question.
“Yes. “Reba,' he said 'what am I to do? You see my posi-
tion. I don't want to be the cause of more trouble than
I've already made by shooting a little craps. But the old
man has told me in so many words that he'll get me before
this cruise is over.' Now, gentlemen, there it is; that's
all I know.”
"Thank you, dear,” said Captain Lanfrey, quietly.


The silence in the room lengthened as we thought over
what Mrs. Lanfrey had said. Here was something tangi-
ble. Here was a threat which, assuming that it had been
acted upon, explained the tragedy. Irascible and ill tem-
pered though he was, it was difficult, however, for me to
believe that Dr. Gorell had murdered his son-in-law.
And yet I could not help thinking of the startled manner
in which Dr. Gorell offered his story of his and his wife's
whereabouts at the formal inquiry in the lounge, follow-
ing the disappearance of Quigley.
“There's something," I began, breaking our silence,
“that only this moment has occurred to me. I've missed
its significance until now.”
"What's that, Benny?" demanded Rogers. Captain
Lanfrey and his wife both turned towards me inquiringly.
“Mrs. Gorell,” I said. “Something she said a few days
ago_”
"Has it any bearing on what Reba has just told us?”
the Captain asked.
"I'll leave you to judge of that. A few evenings ago Mrs.
Gorell came up to me at the rail. After some talk she got
around to what apparently was on her mind. She wanted
to know your opinion, Captain, as to whether or not
Quigley's death was an accident. I told her I hadn't dis-
115


116
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
cussed the matter with you. I told her that personally I
preferred to regard it as an accident. She seemed to grab
at it as official; hugged it to her bosom, so to speak, and
said this, I remember it exactly: 'The Doctor will be glad
to know, too; it will ease his mind.'”
"Humph!” said Rogers, quietly. “And on his own
admission Gorell was up and prowling around the deck
at three o'clock in the morning."
"Sounds like the old couple are guilty-she knows as
much about it as he does-isn't that so, Carlos?" Mrs.
Lanfrey asked.
"It's odd, that,” admitted Lanfrey. He looked at his
watch. “We seem to have got somewhere tonight," he
observed. “We've spoken our minds, at any rate. But I
don't know what to do about it. I'll swear I don't. Even
though he looks as guilty as hell, I'm not going to put the
old fellow in irons. After all, what we have aired here are
only suspicions; I don't believe it could be called even
circumstantial evidence. I'm not a detective; I don't
know how to put the third degree on him so as to make
him confess the crime, if he is guilty, and I don't know
that I would if I could; that's for the authorities when
we get back. I'm trying to conduct a scientific expedition
and I'll be damned if I'm going to let even a murder
interfere with its success. If Gorell is guilty, he is going
back home with us when we go. And I'll put what evi-
dence we may have by then up to the boys at the port.”
Rogers got up from his chair. “That'll be about all,
"I think so. And thanks to you two for coming in. I've
got to look in on my patient, and then I'm going to bed.”


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 117
The three of us went out of the stateroom together;
Rogers and I saying good night to Mrs. Lanfrey, who sat
lazily on the davenport. From Lanfrey's stateroom to the
cabin which had been made into a sick bay when Jay
Cranston was found unconscious on the deck by French
and me, was only a short distance. The Captain opened
the door and looked in. Rogers and I would have con-
tinued on to our own rooms but for the exclamation the
Captain made when he looked into the stateroom.
"Welll” he said. “Well! What's this?”
Rogers entered behind Lanfrey and I followed. The
stocky figure of Jay Cranston was sitting on the edge of
the bed. He was eating fruit which had been placed on
the nearby table. The young man looked up at us, a scowl
on his dark face.
"I'm hungry," he said, biting at the skin of an orange.
“That's fine," said Lanfrey. “Keep your appetite and
you can have real food for breakfast.”
“Why not now?" demanded the convalescent.
"You've been pretty sick.” Lanfrey sat down and
looked keenly at the young man. “How do you feel, Jay?"
“All right. Where are we? What have we stopped for?”
"We're at Galapagos.”
The young man finished the orange, then rolled back
into bed and pulled the covers about him. “I'm getting
up tomorrow," he announced. “I've been here long
enough.”
“Well, maybe you can.” Lanfrey was silent a moment,
then added: “Who socked you the other night, Jay?"
“Starr,” answered Cranston promptly.
"What for?"


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
118 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
“A little argument.”
"What about?"
“He's got Quigley's dice-"
“Quigley's dice?” Lanfrey's voice rose slightly in sur-
prise.
“Yes. Sure. And they're crooked. He was going to clean
out the crew with 'em. And I said, I'm in on it, Starr, or
else-'"
“Else what?" Lanfrey's voice hardened.
"What do you think else? He'd kick in or I'd tell you
he had 'em.”
“I see,” said Lanfrey. “Then what happened?"
"He landed and I went out.”
Captain Lanfrey got up from his chair, towering in
the stateroom. “All right. You go to sleep. We'll see about
your getting up tomorrow. I might as well tell you now,
I'm taking you out of the crew. You're to come back with
the members of the expedition. It isn't a reward, under-
stand. You'll cause less trouble there than you have in the
crew, I hope. And when you get on your feet again you're
to help Professor Rogers with the pictures.”
"Fine, Uncle Carlos, fine!” exclaimed Cranston, rising
on his elbow. “That's what I wanted all the time,”
"Good night,” and Lanfrey pushed Rogers and me
ahead of him out of the stateroom.
For a moment the three of us stood there in the pas-
sageway. I was thinking of what Jay Cranston had said
about Quigley's dice. Rogers, I believe, was on the point
of bidding Lanfrey and me good night when the latter
said to us in a low tone:
“Come on; let's go see Starr." There was a grim note


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 119
in his voice, a hardness in his manner easily felt in the
dim passageway.
He led the way forward and through the door in the
bulkhead to the galley. The reflection from the brightly
lighted room flooded the corridor; an electric fan quietly
stirred the warm air of the galley where the ranges now
simmered softly in their waning heat. At a table in the
corner of the room Starr sat with the cook, playing pi-
nochle. The cook, whose name was Webber, was a round
headed man with very black hair and mild watery eyes.
He saw us first and got to his feet, saying something under
his breath to Starr who immediately popped up, smiling
and showing his two gold teeth.
Lanfrey reached out and swept a chair to himself and
sat down. Rogers and I dropped down upon a serving
table, swinging our legs. Lanfrey said to Starr and Web-
ber severely: “Sit down!"
Starr even then did not lose his smile, his ingratiating
air of service, although the entrance of the three of us at
so late an hour was unusual. For a moment the silence
was unbroken. Starr continued to look expectantly at
his employer.
“Starr," began the Captain.
“Yes, sir.” The steward straightened slightly in his
seat.
“Several evenings ago Mr. Bartlett here, together with
Dr. French, discovered Jay Cranston in an unconscious
condition on the deck. They called me and Cranston was
put to bed in one of the staterooms. He has since been
very sick, but is now convalescent.”
"Yes, sir."


120 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
“I have just been talking with him. I asked him who
socked him. And he says that he had an argument with
you and that you knocked him out. Is that true?”
“Yes, sir," replied Starr without hesitation.
"Tell me about it.”
“It was like this, sir. We had words, and he called me
a name which I'll not take off of any man, sir. I swung
on him and connected, and he went down, striking his
head against the bulkhead, sir. I tried to revive him, but
he was slow to come around, so I took him up on deck in
the fresh air and laid him down, sir, then went off to find
you, sir. But I did not succeed, and when I came back
to where I had laid Cranston down, sir, you and the
other gentlemen were carrying him to the sick bay, and
you will recollect that I ran ahead of you and opened the
doors, sir, and made the bed ready."
"I remember you did. What else?"
“That's all, sir.”
“What was the argument about?"
“Cranston,” he began.
“Mr. Cranston,” corrected the Captain. “You're
aware, Starr, that Jay Cranston is the nephew of the
former Mrs. Lanfrey.”
“Yes, sir; but, you see, his being among the crew, we
had dropped the mister among ourselves, sir,"
"Jay is no longer among the crew. He is on the passen-
ger list for the remainder of the voyage. Don't forget it.
Now go on-"
“Yes, sir. I'll remember what you say.” He hesitated
a moment as if to collect his scattered thoughts, and then
smiled around at us and proceeded. “As I started to say,


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET
RAB
121
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 121
Mr. Cranston was aware that I had Mr. Quigley's dice,
sir. Here they are.” Starr at this moment suddenly
stretched out his right leg so that he could with greater
ease get his hand into his trousers pocket, and the next
moment a pair of ivory dice rolled upon the table among
the pinochle cards. Captain Lanfrey picked them up and
turned them about in his hands, but said nothing, wait-
ing for the steward to continue.
“Mr. Cranston, sir, has thought from the beginning
that they were crooked. I thought so myself once. But
they are not. I've tried them. However, Mr. Quigley it
seemed, sir, could make them do almost anything. But
I cannot. And Mr. Cranston, thinking that with the dice,
sir, we might win the money of the crew, suggested that
we try it, and when I said I had had enough of gambling,
he argued, and one thing led to another-”.
“I see. Why didn't you come tell me you were the one
who nearly killed Mr. Cranston?”
“I-sir-it was never asked. I felt quite certain that it
would come out when Mr. Cranston came around. Being
experienced in the boxing ring, I knew he was not fatally
hurt, sir.”
Lanfrey continued to toy with the dice. He rolled
them experimentally several times upon the table. A
last throw carried them off the table, and the cook in-
stantly dropped from his chair and brought them to the
table again, very red of face from his exertion.
“How did you get these dice, Starr?”
“From Mr. Quigley, sir. He gave them to me."
“Gave them?"
“Yes, sir."


122 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
“You didn't say anything about it the morning of the
investigation.”
“No, sir. You see, they had no bearing upon the tragedy,
sir, that I could see, so I said nothing about them; and
you didn't ask me if I had them, sir.”
“What do you mean, they didn't have any bearing on
the tragedy?"
"They did not, sir. Mr. Quigley gave them to me the
afternoon before he was lost overboard. I went to his
room, sir, with an order of fruit which he said he felt the
need of. And while I was in his room he said: 'Starr, see
these?' and took the dice from his pocket and held them
up. 'Yes, sir, Mr. Quigley, I do,' I said. “Take them, Starr.
I'm through with gambling. I've caused enough trouble
already on this ship.' 'Yes, sir, Mr. Quigley,' I answered,
'but I am through with gambling, too. I know it is against
the Captain's wishes.' He laughed and said: 'Well, take
them; and if you don't want them throw them overboard.'
So I took them, sir."
“And how did Mr. Cranston know you had them?”
“He saw them in my room, sir, where I put them on
my box. He recognized them for what they are, sir."
Captain Lanfrey got to his feet. He stood a moment as
though wondering if he had thought of all the questions
he had wanted to ask, then said:
“Good night, Starr."


ALICE WILMER, artist, was a different person from the
Alice Wilmer I had known as a passenger aboard the
Cyrene II in our run down to the Galapagos. In the early
morning sunlight, before anybody was ready to go ashore
that first day, I discovered her dressed in shorts and
sweater on the forward deck before an easel, and attended
by a sailor turned fisherman for the purposes of her
work. Her hand was rapid, her decisions of color swift
and baffling, the result on her canvas amazing.
She glanced up at me and smiled and turned back to
her work. The sun was making a strange kind of gold of
her hair. “You can stay if you don't ask too many ques-
tions, Benny,” she tossed to me. "Have you got another
one?” she asked the sailor, who nodded and flopped a fish
upon the deck. It was a gorgeously colored fish, its
torpedolike body flaming like a sun, unbearable almost
to the eyes. Another of its kind, its coloring dulled like
burned out fires, lay on deck.
“Biting good this morning?" I asked the sailor.
"I'll say they are, sir. Act like they never had had any-
thing to eat.”
"What is it?"
“I don't know, sir. This is my first time in these is-
lands."
123


124 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
I looked over Alice's shoulder as she worked. Presently
she glanced up and said:
"It's Yellowfin Tuna.”
“Gorgeous thing," I observed. She continued to work
rapidly.
“The colors fade so soon,” she said, almost with a wail
in her voice. I moved off a little and gazed at the distant
cloud-capped peaks of uninhabited Indefatigable. The
shore line was broken, inhospitable almost, although
here and there were white sandy beaches among the black
volcanic rocks, and clumps of mangroves.
"Got another one?” Alice asked the sailor. “This one
is fading so fast I can't use it."
"I haven't any now, ma'am; they've quit biting all of
a sudden.”
Alice hung her palette on the easel and stretched. I
walked over to her side.
“What's the great rush?" I inquired.
"Oh-just to please Dr. French-prove that little Alice
is worthy of being brought along,"
"That isn't necessary,” I said. “I've been delighted
with your mere presence among us. And as for pleasing
that red-headed scientist named French, well-"
"Oh, I don't know. All dressed up in your hiking out-
fit, aren't you?” she said, teasingly. “You look like a hand-
some forest ranger, or something."
"No kidding,” I warned her. "By the by," I dropped
my voice to a level below the hearing of the sailor, "your
information about Quigley's wife being the daughter of
the Gorells is correct. Mrs. Lanfrey knew her. She con-
firmed it last night.


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
125
Alice's expressive eyes widened a trifle, then she asked:
“Have you self-appointed detectives been doing some
more digging into this thing?"
"Oh-perhaps," I answered. “But there's nothing new.
I am afraid that as detectives we are nothing more or less
than amateurs."
"Still no bites, Mr. Sailor?” inquired Alice.
"No, ma'am; they have gone away from the ship."
Footsteps came along the deck and I turned to observe
French's tall figure. The ichthyologist was dressed in old
khaki togs and was smoking a cigarette. He had seen
Alice's layout as he came out of the dining room and now
walked forward to investigate.
“Good morning, Doctor,” called Alice, as French
came up.
“Good morning, Miss Wilmer; good morning, Bart-
lett. What's this you've got?" He came around to where
he could examine the work on the easel.
"I was out early,” Alice explained, “and I saw the sailor
fishing so I got my stuff and went to work just for prac-
tice.”
"It's good enough to keep, French,” I said. “That's not
just practice work.”
"Miss Wilmer is too modest in her accomplishments,"
said French, quietly. He examined the work carefully.
“It's excellent. Yellowfin. Quite common in these waters.
Unbelievable colors. It would be hard to photograph
successfully. This is the only way to get it," he indicated
the picture with a freckled hand.
"We were talking before you came up, Doctor, about
Jack Quigley,” began Alice.


126
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
“What about him?".
"Did you know he was Dr. Gorell's son-in-law?"
French appeared to study over his reply; the rays of
the sun on his red hair made it like something alive; he
frowned, then said: “It seems to me he was somebody's
son-in-law. Somebody around the University. I guess it
was old Gorell.” There was the merest suggestion of con-
tempt in his tone. “Why? Anything new about Quigley?"
"No," I answered. “Only his drowning keeps bobbing
up. I don't know how it got started this morning-
"You started it yourself,” accused Alice, “by saying
Mrs. Lanfrey knew that he was related by marriage to
Dr. Gorell.”
“Mrs. Lanfrey?" French's voice rose slightly. “She
knew him?"
"Yes.”
French didn't seem particularly interested; his
thoughts were more upon the fact of our arrival at the
scene of our labors, upon the morning, and upon the sea
and the islands round about us.
“I might say this,” he remarked; “I don't believe it has
been brought out. At least not at any discussion I've at-
tended. Quigley was a promising research student in the
invertebrate laboratory at the University. Could have
made a name for himself. I had him for a while under
me, then he threw it up to go with the pictures. But,"
he looked at his watch, "they'll be getting started shore-
ward before long,” he said. “You're going, aren't you,
Bartlett, in the first boat?"
“Yes.”
“About you, Miss Wilmer, I don't need you to come


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
127
with me this morning. I'm going by myself in a small
boat. If you want to stay and finish this job here it's all
right. It may take the rest of the morning, if the fish
aren't biting.”
“I'll stay here,” said Alice, "if somebody'll catch my
fish.”
"I'll be glad to go on fishing for you, ma'am," said the
sailor.
“All right, then,” said French turning away. “Coming,
Bartlett?”
French and I fell into step and walked aft. The launch
was being swung over the side. Huntoon Rogers, laden
down with camera and a pack, came out of the dining
room.
“Had breakfast, you fellows?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, stopping beside him. French went on
down to his stateroom.
"I guess we're all going ashore this morning. Ardleigh
has changed his mind and is going, too.”
“Good morning, Mr. Bartlett.”
I looked about at the sound of my name and saw Dr.
Gorell. The old man had donned a rough suit of clothing,
high laced boots and a pith helmet; his pudgy figure
looked trimmer, almost as though he were laced in. His
glasses sat firmly, almost defiantly astride his nose and he
gripped his pipe between his teeth.
“Good morning, Doctor," I replied.
"Do we join forces this morning, you and I? Mrs. Gorell
is coming.”
"If you care to," I answered. “Although I probably
shall not go very far from shore. I may take a few speci-


128 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
mens," and I patted the canvas bag I carried over my
shoulder.
"I think I'll work along the shore first. See what I can
find.” He seemed in excellent spirits. All trace of the
irritability he had displayed at other times had vanished.
“Ah, here's Mrs. Gorell,” said the old man, pulling me
by the sleeve. I turned to see the dumpy figure of his
wife in much the same kind of outfit her husband wore.
She smiled and said good morning, and of a sudden I felt
monopolized by the Gorells and wished that I had not so
readily agreed to join forces with them. I saw Rogers
watching me with amusement.
With no little excitement the party a few minutes later
went over the side and into the launch. Alice Wilmer,
Captain Lanfrey and his wife were the only ones remain-
ing on deck, except French who, as he had said, was taking
a skiff in a few minutes for some work in the shallow
waters near shore.
We were gay and in high spirits during the short
launch ride to shore. We had reached our goal at last;
the work for which we lived was before us. There was no
shadow of what was so soon to follow; we had no inkling
that we were not yet done with horror.


16
For upwards of an hour after landing we delayed assum-
ing our roles as scientists, each of us preferring to look at
this uninhabited desert island through the eyes of a Rob-
inson Crusoe. A mother seal and her pup were playing on
the beach. They had no fear of us; indeed they manifested
a mild interest in our arrival and came closer to watch
us land. An oyster-catcher with black and white plumage
and scarlet beak came trotting along the fine white sand
and stood about in curiosity within a few feet of us.
Almost the first thing to greet our eyes was a scarlet
shadow that moved across the black face of a lava rock
in the edge of the water. Hardly a shadow, either, for it
was too brilliant to be called that, yet it moved like one
as the scores of scarlet rock crabs of which it was made up
to give it its odd scientific name, was quite the most color-
ful thing we were to find in the archipelago.
We advanced over the barrow of shells pushed up on
the beach by the waves, shells so numerous, so beautifully
shaped and colored as to make of us all volunteer assist-
ants to the old conchologist who could only stand and
shake his head at such wealth. Several mocking birds
approached to inspect us, bright-eyed and pert. They
had no fear as have wild creatures elsewhere. A large yel-
129


130
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
low land iguana in the shadow of a cactus tree eyed us
sleepily and ran away only when Ardleigh walked up to it
too suddenly.
The launch returned to the ship for Captain and Mrs.
Lanfrey and any others who had planned to come ashore
later, and gradually we took up our several tasks. Dr.
Ardleigh was the first to strike away from the group; he
started alone towards the interior through the scrub of
cactus and Bursera, saying nothing of his intentions, and
was soon lost to view in the rough going. Huntoon Rog-
ers began his picture making, and I wandered away along
the beach upon ornithological pursuits, tagged by the
Gorells who kept me in sight.
Later I found a shady spot and sat down. Mocking
birds came to keep me company, hopping about my feet,
peering at me like near-sighted creatures from perches
three feet away in a wild cotton plant. A little fly catcher
joined them, its crest feathers rising and falling as it stared
at me. My retreat was close by the beach. Out on the shal-
low waters some hundreds of yards off shore Dr. French,
neath the surface.
"It's hot in the sun, Bartlett," said a voice behind me.
I turned to see the Gorells like a pair of dachshunds dog-
gedly making their way towards me, smelling out every
nook and cranny of rock and shrub for possible snails.
They came up and sat down, and the old man removed
his pith helmet and fanned his hot, red face. “I say, it's
hot! That's an equatorial sun overhead.”
"You'll find it cool in the shade," I remarked.


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 131
“Yes. I understand it's never really hot here in the
Galapagos. The Humbolt Current and the trades temper
the sun."
“I wasn't warm all the time I was here before, Doctor,
except when I was in the interior of some one of the is-
lands or out of the breeze and where the sun could get
at me.”
We talked idly. The launch put off from the ship and
brought a party ashore. They landed around a point of
rocks from us and we did not see who they were. French
in his skiff remained like a figure painted on canvas.
Presently Mrs. Gorell got to her feet.
“I'm going down to the beach, Doctor," she said. “The
shells in the sand are so beautiful; they fascinate me."
She held up a rare-colored cowry shell she carried for me
to admire.
“Be careful, Clara,” said Gorell to his wife as she made
her way over the uneven surface.
“Of course I'll be careful,” she tossed over her shoulder.
Gorell fished his pipe from his pocket and filled it from
his pouch. A thought occurred to him and he called after
his spouse.
“Clara, if they've brought the lunch, wave to us. It
will be time to eat before a great while.” Mrs. Gorell went
on without replying. “She heard all right," the old man
said. “She's got good ears yet.” He lighted his pipe and
tossed the dead match into the rough grass. A mocking
bird swooped upon it, picked it up and flew away. “I
never saw birds so tame," he remarked.
"Yes. One has to be a bit stony hearted to kill them


132 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
even for specimens when they are so friendly."
"You, Bartlett-you know, I like you,” Gorell said sud-
denly.
I glanced up at him; his keen dark eyes framed by the
large gold-rimmed spectacles were fixed upon me. There
was no probing what was behind this unexpected burst
of confidence. His lips were clamped upon the pipestem,
his facial muscles were fixed and masklike.
“Well, Doctor-" I began, “I'm glad to know that. I
think I can say it's mutual.” Politeness before blunt
opinion has been my weakness. I didn't exactly dislike
the man, but I was not drawn to him.
He cleared his throat. “I liked you from the first mo-
ment I saw you. You're a gentleman and a man of pene-
tration, and a man who can keep his own counsel, unless
I'm mistaken. And I don't think I am. I seldom go wrong
in judgment of a man's character."
“Doctor,” I said, “you overwhelm me. Remember I'm
a young man and such praise may go to my head."
He looked at me sharply as if uncertain whether I had
spoken flippantly, then concluding I hadn't returned his
pipe to his mouth and pulled strongly upon it. There
was something coming; it was apparent in his manner
now that he had said what he had to me.
“You know,” he began abruptly. “This Quigley af-
fair. It won't down. It keeps coming to the surface. I
don't mind saying to you, Bartlett, that it has been a
nightmare to me.”
"And to the rest of us, Doctor."
"Sooner or later I am going to be connected with it.
I don't like the prospect, but I see no way to avoid it.”


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 133
“But_”
“Oh, I know what you're going to say. But it was not an
accident. It was murder. Already among the members
of the expedition it is being whispered that it was mur-
der. Did you know that I was John Quigley's father-in-
law?"
“Yes, sir-”
"How did you know that?” A trace of irritation was in
his voice.
“Mrs. Lanfrey has said so. French has said so. Alice
Wilmer, Huntoon Rogers and I guessed it from a photo-
graph.” I went on to explain how Rogers had made the
discovery when he developed the film in Quigley's small
camera. I pulled the camera out of my pocket, but Gorell
merely glanced at it without curiosity.
“French?” he said, when I had done. "Yes. He would
know, of course. And Mrs. Lanfrey, how did she know it?"
“Through Quigley himself. She had known him prior
to the start of the expedition.”
“Hm!” he mused upon the information. “And she will
have told all the gossip about me that she knows.” He did
not elaborate, but it was not far to guess what it was he
had in mind, namely, the bit of gossip that he had threat-
ened Quigley's life. Our conversation lagged, ceased al-
together for a time, but I knew from the intent expression
on his face that he had not yet revealed what he had had
in mind to reveal when he began to talk. He cleared his
throat once more and drew upon his pipe.
"You know," he began, "you know–Bartlett-I'm in
a fix. The thing has put me in a very awkward position.
Had I known Quigley was coming I'd not have set foot on


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 135
“It's this: You will remember when Captain Lanfrey
was questioning us the morning it was discovered Quig-
ley had been murdered that I admitted to having gone
on deck for some twenty minutes or so about three o'clock
in the morning.”
“Yes.”
“I said I didn't see any one. That is not so. I felt con-
strained to evade the truth at that point because it in-
volved a woman more deeply than I imagined she would
want to be involved." He gave me a strange look.
“Miss Wilmer," I began, "testified-”.
"It was not Miss Wilmer. It was Mrs. Lanfrey. She and
Quigley were standing at the rail together, talking,”
“Mrs. Lanfrey?" I said. “At three o'clock-".
“Yes. They did not see me. I had on my bedroom slip-
pers and a dark bath robe. I made no noise as I stood on
the stairs looking out. They stood at the rail the whole
time, not once glancing around. A husband, Bartlett, is
within his rights, Captain Lanfrey may have, I don't
say_”
“Just what are you driving at, Doctor?"
"Don't I make myself clear, Bartlett? Very well, then,”
he continued. “I'll be more specific. I understand Captain
Lanfrey and his wife have very sumptuous quarters on
the ship; besides their private lounge they each have
separate bedrooms. Mrs. Lanfrey could quite easily go
up to meet her lover at three o'clock in the morning un-
known to the Captain.”
"I see what you are getting at-"I began.
“Of course you do. Mind you, Bartlett, I'm not accus-
ing Captain Lanfrey of slaying Quigley. But when a man


136 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
sees the web of circumstances closing around him as I
see it closing around me, he naturally strives to uncover
the truth. The real story hasn't been told yet.”
"Perhaps not,” I replied.
“Now, please, Bartlett, this has been in strictest confi-
dence. I have no intention of saying anything about it
unless the"
The sound of a footfall behind us in the grass closed
Gorell's lips like a trap. We both looked about at the in-
terruption, expecting to see some one of the ship's party
who had walked up on us unheralded. But at the sight
of the tall figure behind us we were both struck silent in
wonder. A man in ragged clothing, a black felt hat and
shoes that were in shreds stood there looking at us. His
face was tanned almost black by the sun; his hands were
thin, hard, almost like talons. And yet he had a pleasant
smile and white even teeth; his manner was friendly even
in that first moment of our surprise.
"Hello,” I said.
He shook his head, coming closer. “No sabe," he
answered.
"Try him in Spanish, Bartlett; I don't know the lan-
guage," urged Dr. Gorell.
The man knew a little Spanish. With what little he
had we learned enough of him to discover who and what
he was.
“Who is he?” demanded Gorell, when I had exchanged
a few words with the man.
“He's a Norwegian. Cast away three weeks ago on this
island.”
“Shipwreck?"


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 137
"He had a small sail boat. He comes from Chatham
Island. Currents and wind brought him here and wrecked
him.”
As we talked the man squatted on the ground before
us, trying to follow our conversation, looking first from
Gorell to me, with an air of confidence that his troubles
were over. He pointed out to the Cyrene II and asked me
if it was our ship.
"Yes,” I said. “Hungry?".
He grinned and rubbed his stomach. Iguanas and
birds' eggs, I discovered, were all he had had to eat after
the food he had carried gave out. As we talked Mrs. Gorell
walked around the point of rocks on the beach and waved
to us.
"What do you say we take him down to the launch,
Doctor?” I asked. “There's Mrs. Gorell waving. They've
got food and this fellow is hungry."
"Why, yes, certainly. Let's take him along by all
means.”


A MORE extensive story, such as it was, was forthcoming
from the castaway when it was discovered that Ernest
could talk with him in his native tongue. The man's
name was Knutsen and he had been a sailor on a tuna
clipper out of San Diego, and the year before had asked
for and gained his release to join several of his country-
men already on Chatham Island in the Galapagos. He
had left the island three weeks before on a short fishing
cruise, had encountered strong currents and winds that
swept him off his course and northwestward to Inde-
fatigable, where he had been wrecked. All he hoped for
was that Captain Lanfrey would set him back on Chat-
ham Island, which Lanfrey promised to do as soon as we
were in that vicinity.
Knutsen knew much of interest about the islands,
particularly of the fish and where we might find tortoises.
At odd times for the better part of two days he was ques-
tioned by various members of the expedition through
Ernest; particularly did French find him valuable.
French gave him some badly needed clothing, for the
two were almost of a size.
The scientific work had got off to a good start. I took
many specimens, for the list that Risner had made up
contemplated practically a complete collection of the
birds of Galapagos. What time I was not ashore I was
138


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 139
busy in the laboratory below decks, skinning and dissect-
ing birds and tagging and preparing the skins against the
time the Museum would receive them, and writing up
field notes. The others were equally busy. French, badly
sunburned, nevertheless was constantly engaged in the
shallow waters and tide pools along shore. He kept Alice
Wilmer supplied with work and also directed the activi-
ties of some of the crew who went on fishing excursions.
Ardleigh kept his own counsel and spent his days
ashore alone. He planned to climb the mountain on In-
defatigable across the parched broken lava fields until he
was told by Knutsen that an easier way was available
from the other side of the island.
The second day Mrs. Gorell walked a blister on her
heel and was forbidden active work ashore by her hus-
band. Gorell ranged farther and farther back from the
shore in his search for shells. Rogers was constantly busy
either ashore or in his studio. Lanfrey was engaged in
keeping the expedition running smoothly-gold braid
had given way to more serviceable whipcord-and what
time he had to spare he was ashore searching for cacti
and succulents, a private hobby of his. Mrs. Lanfrey came
ashore twice, complained of the heat and lack of excite-
ment, and then went back to the ship to read.
Thus we were all busily occupied when something
happened that even yet seems incredible. Because the
realization of the monstrous truth was so long in break-
ing over us, it was the more terrible. I look back on it
now with a shudder.
That third morning of our stay at Indefatigable be-
gan with the usual rush for breakfast, followed by the


140 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
trip to shore in the launch. Jay Cranston for the first time
was permitted to join the shore parties. He was under
the eye of Rogers and carried a camera, and he seemed
entirely recovered from his recent injuries at the hands
of Starr. The sullen, unlikeable disposition I had ob-
served previously had brightened with the prospect of
adventure; no doubt his inclusion among the members
of the expedition instead of with the crew had had its
effect too.
With the exception of Mrs. Gorell and Mrs. Lanfrey,
the entire party, including Knutsen, the castaway, and
several members of the crew, was on shore that morning.
French, as usual, was in his glass bottomed skiff in the
shallow water. On landing we struck away at once in va-
rious directions, not to meet again until lunch time on
the beach, that being the arrangement that suited most
of us. If anyone so desired, he could go to the ship for
lunch when the boat returned to it. But the lunch that
Starr brought to shore and which was served under the
shade of a tent erected for that purpose, was ample and
delicious.
I was hungry that noon when I came back to the beach
after a long tramp afield over rough lava. Alice Wilmer,
who had been laboring at her easel under a huge sun um-
brella not far from the landing point, came up as I did,
carrying a star fish in her hand.
"What is it?" I asked her.
“Isn't it beautiful!” she exclaimed, holding it up. “I've
been painting it.”
“I never saw one like it before,” I said. Its long cream-
colored brittle arms had a gold-colored band at every


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 141
sixth segment. Beneath the cream color were purple
spots.
“It's new to science,” said Alice. “It hasn't been known
long-if you're interested it's Ophioplocus hancocki. But
I'm hungry. Have you something good to eat, Ernest?”
she asked, addressing the youth who was getting the
lunch baskets ashore.
Ernest nodded.
"Where's Starr?” I asked.
“We were a little early, sir, and Starr thought nobody
would be coming so he went for a short walk. He'll be
back soon.”
Knutsen came along the beach carrying something. He
came straight up to us grinning, and halted.
"What's he got?" asked Alice, and then answered her
own question. "Oh, it's a scarlet crab.”
The crab was very much alive, its legs waving wildly.
Knutsen set it on the ground and we gathered around it.
Ernest came over and joined the circle. He spoke to
Knutsen in Norwegian.
“He says it's his friend,” Ernest translated.
Indeed the crab was unusual in one respect; it did not
scuttle away as did the rest of its kind at the approach of
human beings. It seemed to have some of the fearless
curiosity of the birds. It remained on the ground where
Knutsen had placed it, its spoon-shaped claws waving, its
comical eye stalks twisting about as if to inspect us indi-
vidually.
"Oh, look,” said Alice, "he's saluting. Look!"
Oddly enough the claws came down sharply at inter-
vals in something very like a snappy salute. Knutsen said


142 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
something and Ernest translated.
“He says the crab made friends with him the first day
he was shipwrecked. But he wants to make a present of it
to Miss Wilmer.”
“Me?” Alice looked at the castaway who nodded and
grinned. “Oh, thanks. I'll call him Jimmy-"
Rogers and Cranston were now coming up the beach.
They stopped to look at the crab. “They're usually
afraid of man,” said Rogers, tapping the crab on the back
with his fingers, at which the crab saluted violently, “but
if one makes friends I'd not be surprised. This is a strange
land.”.
I saw French rowing in our direction. He beached
his skiff and came up to the circle. Ernest went back to
the lunch baskets, and in a few minutes the tall, thin
figure of Dr. Ardleigh appeared almost as if by magic
among us, followed a little later by Captain Lanfrey.
Ernest was serving the lunch when Starr appeared, some-
what breathless, smiling, but warm. At Lanfrey's ques-
tioning look he explained.
“I meant to be gone only a few minutes, sir," he said,
“but I turned my ankle in that lava and had to sit and
rest a bit.”
“Better keep off of it for a while. Let Ernest do the
work,” said Lanfrey, looking sharply at Starr.
"Oh, I'm all right now, sir,” answered Starr, taking
over the coffee from Ernest.
“Everybody have a good morning?" asked Lanfrey.
“I have. Got two cacti I've never seen before. They may
be new, maybe not.”
“Where's Dr. Gorell?" asked Alice, setting her cup on


144 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
was so late”
"Say—" Rogers came into the room. There was an odd
expression upon his face. “Gorell hadn't come to the
landing place when we left shore.”
“Didn't show up for lunch at all?”
“No. Starr's still waiting there for him.”
“Bit odd, don't you think? It's the first meal the old
man's missed, to my knowledge."
"It is odd. I spoke to Carlos just now. He says if
Gorell doesn't show up in half an hour he's going to
start looking for him.”
Dr. Gorell had not appeared on the beach at five
o'clock. Before six o'clock we were not only deeply con-
cerned for his safety, but were organized into searching
parties and were setting out in quest of the missing man.
Sundown and darkness were not far away when we
separated. French, Ardleigh and Cranston moved off
to the left along the shore before going inland; Captain
Lanfrey with Starr and a sailor went to the right along
the beach. Chief Officer Getty with Knutsen and a sailor,
and Rogers with Ernest and me, struck straight inland,
spreading fanwise. We hoped to cover the territory over
which the expedition had worked before darkness closed
in, although with the rough going it was doubtful
whether we could do it.
"We should have started earlier,” said Rogers, with-
out, however, intending criticism of Captain Lanfrey.
"The only thing that can have happened,” I observed,
“is that Gorell has fallen and hurt himself. He isn't so
young and active as some of us others.”
“Yes. But he could have shouted. Somebody surely


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 145
would have heard.”
Ernest plodded along to our right, carrying a packet
of signal rockets. “Perhaps it's something worse, sir,"
he called out to us.
After a moment's hesitation Rogers answered: “Well,
maybe so. I hope not." We worked our way slowly over
an ever widening terrain full of sharp lava rocks and
overgrown with cactus, Bursera and treelike Cordia,
crisscrossing back and forth as we spread wider apart so
as to leave no spot unexplored.
The sun dropped below the horizon. High overhead
in the last rays of the upper sunlight a pair of flamingoes
flew over, beating their blood-red wings in homeward
flight. We watched them go down the empty sky, and
as they vanished we heard well around to our left a
voice raised in a shout. We listened and made out French
calling Gorell's name. Rogers walked a few feet and then
halted.
“Not a bad idea now that the sun's down,” he said.
Immediately he lifted a powerful voice in a shout for the
missing man. We heard it taken up to our right. And
again still farther away. The eerie cries came faintly to
us over the wild and rugged ground.
"If he's got just a broken leg and can't walk, he could
answer us,” called Ernest, his voice sounding queerly
in the fading light.
“In a few minutes we'll have to quit this,” I said to
Rogers. “See how dark it's getting.”
"We'll keep on as long as we can,” called Rogers. The
next moment he had snapped on his flashlight and its
rays slashed the gathering gloom, shining on strange


146 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
things on this desert island. I switched on my own light
and its ray struck full upon the yellow dragon-shaped
form of an iguana. For a moment the shining eyes of the
creature glittered like jewels of fire as with upraised
head it gazed at us, then with a startling rush it sought
refuge in its burrow.
We were along the edge of a lava ridge, its sides broken
down like giant's stairsteps; lizards scuttled confusedly
away through the rocks when our flashlight rays touched
them; birds, disturbed in their roosting, scolded us
sleepily from the branches of shrubs. Rogers, finding an
easy ascent, climbed the top of the ridge, and I followed
him up. Ernest continued to explore a few minutes and
then made his way towards us.
"It's little use we can be now," Rogers said. As he
spoke his foot slipped and a lava plate large as a platter
scaled off and went clattering with the ring of iron down
below.
"Yes, and if we're not careful,” I said, "something
like that may happen and somebody else will get hurt.”
“Are you stopping the search now, Mr. Rogers?” Ernest
called up.
"Yes, Ernest. Better stay down there. We'll be starting
back to the ship presently. I just want to take a look
around now that it's dark and see if there are any
signals.”
"Yes, sir."
"What were the signals?" I asked. “I heard Lanfrey
giving you some instructions about signals in case we
found Gorell,”
“One rocket if he's found injured and in need of help.


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 147
Repeat at five-minute intervals," he said quietly.
“And-?"
“Two if he's-dead."
We stood there on the lava ridge looking about on
the surrounding scene. Out at her anchorage the Cyrene
Il now twinkled with lights. She looked invitingly com-
fortable and safe, but we were not insensible to the
weary journey back over the rough ground to the beach.
A single point of light on the beach marked the launch.
Elsewhere there was only gloomy darkness. There was
no moon in the sky; the stars were not yet bright. The
intermittent shouting of the searchers had ceased and
the deathlike quiet of nature seemed to shut down; a
silence almost like the tomb enshrouded us. In the
intense quiet Ernest down below us struck a match and
lighted a cigarette. The sound and the flash were star-
tling. Rogers started to say something; I heard him catch
his breath.
"1-” he began. His hand struck me heavily in the side.
But I had seen the thing that had occasioned the sud-
den blow. West of us a long, greenish, wavering line of
fire climbed slowly upward into the dark sky. It seemed
that it would never stop; up and up it labored while we
held our breath.
“One!” said Rogers softly as it topped its long climb
and silently faded away into nothingness. "Now wait
five minutes. It will be repeated—” His voice stopped
abruptly, for from that same spot the long, greenish,
wavering line started once more on its long climb.
"Two!" I counted.
"Then-Gorell's dead!"


18
HUNTOON ROGERS and I made our way carefully down
from the lava ridge, our flashlights picking out a safe
footing in the darkness. Bits of lava rolled like hard
metal under our feet; sharp surfaces bruised our hands
as we clung to them for support.
Dr. Gorell was dead, and night had closed down upon
us. I could shut my eyes and see those two rockets climb-
ing one after the other into the murky sky, bringing us
the dread news that one of our number had met his death
on this lonely desert island.
“It must have been a fall,” Rogers said, as we started
away towards the beach with Ernest at our heels.
"He was an old man," I remarked. “Perhaps it was the
heat, or a stroke of some kind; perhaps his heart,"
“Yes," Rogers answered slowly, “I suppose it could
have been any one of those things.”
We continued on for a while silently, our darting
flashlights searching out the rough way. Thorns pricked
us, shrubs and cactus and huge rocks blocked our way
and had to be got around. We came out upon smoother
going.
“This is another blow to the expedition," Rogers
observed.
"I was just thinking of that. Gorell was top in his field
148


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 151
on ahead of us towards the campfire which now burned
closer.
Some hundreds of yards before we came up to it we
saw the figures of several men about the fire, their
shadows big in the night. A voice called to us from the
darkness on our left.
“Yes,” I answered.
"It's me, sir; Morton.” We waited for the man to come
up to our lights; the name he had given was that of one
of the seamen, and he came struggling with a long white
object over his shoulder. "I have the stretcher, sir," he
said, coming up.
“I thought you were already at the scene of the acci-
dent, Morton,” said Rogers.
"I would have been, sir, but I lost my way. I broke
my flashlight. Dropped it on the rocks when the stretcher
caught in some bushes. This is sure terrible country
under foot.”
“Let's help with that,” I said.
We took hold of the stretcher and went on towards
the fire, and came at last upon the scene of the tragedy.
Captain Lanfrey met us at the edge of a lava ridge,
such as we had climbed for a view earlier in the night.
At the sight of Rogers and me he shook his head sadly,
and for a moment did not trust himself to speak. Rogers
took hold of his arm gently and said:
“It's tough, Carlos. There's no question he's dead?"
"None.”
“That's too bad, surely,” said Rogers, and in the light
of the campfire he rubbed the side of his large nose. “I'd
hoped maybe we had misunderstood the signals."


152 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
"You didn't. Starr found him just as it was getting
dark.” Lanfrey jerked his head in the direction of the
lava ridge at his back.
“How did it happen?"
“Instantaneous; no question of it-"
"Heart attack? Or stroke?"
“Neither,” answered Lanfrey. Others of the group
had joined us as we talked, mute listeners to words of
tragedy. French and Ardleigh and Cranston came in
almost on our heels, having followed us closely down
the beach and through the scrub.
"And you think the fall killed him, then?" asked
French. The firelight shining upon his sunburned face
crowned by his disheveled red hair made him a startling
apparition in our midst. He seemed shaken by the news
of Gorell's death as he looked from one to the other of
us, the firelight glittering in his eyes.
"I haven't said that he fell, French," Lanfrey remarked
oddly. “Apparently he climbed upon the lava ridge
there, and slipped off.”
"Is his neck broken?” asked Ardleigh, the hard turtle
lips and the hooked nose thrust from the darkness over
French's shoulder.
"No. Come over here.” Lanfrey started away from the
circle. "His body hasn't been touched.”
We followed Captain Lanfrey's broad back away from
the fire into the dense darkness. His flashlight snapped
on; others followed suit and the gloom retreated slightly.
The figure of a man lay stretched at the base of the ridge
among the rocks that in times past had broken away
and fallen in disorder on the ground. I recognized the


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 153
high laced boots, the rough and faded suit of clothing,
the short pudgy figure that lay so tragically silent on
the cruel ground. The gold-rimmed spectacles were still
astride the nose, the chin thrust out as I frequently had
seen it in life.
"I'll show you what killed him," said Lanfrey quietly.
"See here," and he turned his light upon the body of
the dead man. “That place on his head just beside his
ear. The skull is fractured. He probably struck on a
sharp point of rock as he rolled down.”
Several of us, after a brief look, drew away from the
dreadful sight towards the warmth and cheerful glow
of the fire. I heard Rogers ask a question: "When do you
think it happened, Carlos?”
"It must have happened sometime before noon. The
condition of the body indicates it."
French spoke up quietly: “You remember, fellows, we
spoke of the old man's appetite at lunch time. Kind of
kidding. He hadn't missed a meal.”
“Well,” Rogers rejoined, “the two things taken to-
gether-the fact that he was always present at meal time,
and the condition of the body-indicate that he must
have died sometime before noon."
We gathered at the fire again, glad to have the grue-
some sight shut from our eyes, even though we knew
that the body rested in the darkness at our backs. Some-
one threw more wood upon the fire and it blazed up
brightly, throwing great black shadows about the fan-
tastic scene. The world we knew back home now seemed
vague and far away, like something we had dreamed.
The firelight illuminated the dark face of the castaway


154 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
across from me; there was a strange wild light in his eyes,
and something of bewilderment. He was unable to fol-
low our conservation; he could only guess at our words,
but it must have been all too apparent what it was that
kept us huddling about the fire. Suddenly Jay Cranston
spoke up. The young man had kept silent since he joined
us, but he now looked at Starr across the fire.
"You were over in here somewhere, Starr, just before
lunch time this morning,” he said. “I saw you.” There
was a nasty tone in his voice.
His words came as a blow that left us dazed. There
seemed no sense to it. For a moment there was no com-
ment from anyone. I noted Starr's lips part slightly as if
he were utterly taken aback. Captain Lanfrey, with a
slow, deadly motion turned upon the young man at his
side.
"Just what do you mean by that?" he demanded
harshly.
"Let Starr say,” retorted Cranston.
"I have nothing to say,” replied Starr, smilingly. “I
took a walk as I told you. I was down this way some-
where. Maybe I was on this spot; maybe not, too. The
ground looks so much alike everywhere. I turned my
ankle and sat down awhile”
"Never mind, now, Starr," Lanfrey spoke up sharply.
He turned upon Cranston angrily, his face darkening.
He reached suddenly and grabbed the young man by
the front of his sweater and drew him closer. “Another
word like that from you," he said, shaking a hard fist
in Cranston's swarthy face, “and I'll drive this right
straight through and out the back of your skull. Dr.


I WOKE early next morning with the realization that the
ship was moving. For a moment I suffered a sense of be-
wilderment. And then I leaped out of bed and went to
a porthole. We were well away from our anchorage in
the angle formed by the small Seymour Islands and In-
defatigable; the cloud-capped peaks of the latter seemed
remote and far-away, as if they belonged in another
world.
As I dressed I wondered what had happened and why
we were pulling out. We had come aboard with the body
of Dr. Gorell about ten o'clock the night before. Captain
Lanfrey had preceded us up the ladder to carry the sad
news to the widow, and to make sure she did not witness
the scene when her husband's body was brought on
board. He was standing at the rail when Rogers and I
climbed the ladder from the launch.
"Mrs. Lanfrey is with her now," he had said softly.
“It was a shock of course, but she's taking it rather philo-
sophically.”
There had been a little conversation among us after
the body was taken below, but nothing had been said
of plans for the morrow.
I shaved and dressed to the rhythm of the moving ship,
feeling that something had come to an end. Was the
156


158
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
this morning."
"Where do you suppose we're going?"
“I could only guess. None of us, I believe, has finished
all he wanted to do on Indefatigable.”
“That's what Dr. French said.”
"Didn't he know where we're going?"
"No."
But the mystery was explained shortly when Rogers
came in and sat down at the table. “Tell us where we're
going and why, Professor Rogers,” ordered Alice, when
we had exchanged greetings.
"I've just been talking to Carlos on the bridge," he
said, rubbing the side of his large nose. He took off his
glasses and squinted at the lenses. “We're going to Chat-
ham Island,"
“What for?” demanded the girl.
“We're going for several reasons. The principal one
is to report the death of Dr. Gorell to the Governor of
the islands and avoid any complications that might arise
from neglect to do so. Secondly," and he dropped into
a class room manner as he gave us the Captain's reasons,
"the castaway, Knutsen, can be returned to his home at
the same time. He comes, I believe, from that island,
which is one of the few inhabited ones in the archipel-
ago. And, thirdly, Carlos feels that it would be best for
the members of the expedition to have this interlude of
inactivity until the question of what to do about Mrs.
Gorell has been settled."
We were silent for a few moments after Rogers finished
speaking. I realized that the exchange of conversation
between Alice Wilmer and me before Rogers came in


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 159
had had for its purpose the avoidance of the tragedy;
we had tried for a brief respite. But now the subject had
laid hold again.
“I suppose the expedition is sort of up in the air,”
said Alice thoughtfully, “until they know what to do
about Mrs. Gorell. What do you think will happen,
Professor Rogers?"
“I don't know. Carlos is going to have a talk with her
after he sees the Governor.”
“Do you think it means the end of the expedition,
then?”
“Noo,” said Rogers slowly, “I'd hardly say that. It's
likely to interrupt our work for a time, because I don't
believe Mrs. Gorell will consent to remain on board
with the body of her husband for the next two months;
and so—” he abruptly ended with a gesture of his hand
palm upward.
Jay Cranston came in and sat down with us. He looked
defiantly around the table and said, "Good morning,"
with an air approaching insolence. We returned his
greeting and he demanded to know where the ship was
bound.
“To Chatham Island,” replied Rogers.
"Why?”
Rogers explained to him the reason for our going,
but the young man seemed little interested therein. He
ordered a hearty breakfast and was eating it when the
rest of us finished and left the room.
"Walking?" asked Alice, as we stepped out on the
deck.
"Why, yes.” I fell into step with her.


160 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
"That fellow Cranston," she said. “Ugh! Is he some
relation to the Captain?”
“Only through a former wife, the second Mrs. Lan-
frey, I believe. You don't care for him?"
"No. I don't trust him. He tried to talk to me yester-
day about Mrs. Lanfrey—the present Mrs. Lanfrey, I
mean. Just hints. Dirty little hints. I said: 'Look here,
what are you driving at?' and he grinned that horrid
grin of his and walked away. And then another time
before that, he came up to me and said: 'You're a nice
looking dame, but you've been high-hatting me, and
that don't go-'I said: 'I'll pick my own associates, Mr.
Cranston,' and I walked away and left him. A man like
that is only a pain in the neck,” she said, with amusing
earnestness.
"He's more than that,” I countered; "he's a real prob-
lem to the Captain.” But I forebore to tell her of the
incident that occurred at the campfire when Cranston
had all but accused Starr of the murder of Dr. Gorell.
We continued to walk about the deck, stopping at
times to watch the changing scene as the ship steamed
along the coast of Indefatigable. Frigate-birds and petrels
flew about us; solemn pelicans eyed us judicially as they
flapped past. Boobies swooped over and around us, while
sharks swam alongside.
“How did Dr. Gorell meet his death?" Alice suddenly
inquired.
"By accident," I answered, and told her briefly of the
search and the discovery of the old conchologist's body.
She breathed a sigh.
“If it had to be, I'm glad it was an accident. I couldn't


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
161
stand the thought of another murder."
Mrs. Lanfrey, wearing a blue knitted skirt, a white
sweater and berét, came along the deck towards us.
“Good morning,” she said, smiling. We were close to
the rail and she pulled us over to it. “We're on our way
again,” she said. “But just a short trip this time, to Chat-
ham Island.”
"So Mr. Rogers was telling us,” said Alice. "You look
awfully sweet this morning, Mrs. Lanfrey,” added this
diplomat.
“Thanks, dear. But you far outshine me. If I had your
lovely complexion,”
“Ladies, ladies,” I protested.
"You two have been walking?” Mrs. Lanfrey asked.
“Yes.”
“I've got to do that, too. My figure—" and she indi-
cated with slim white hands the perfect figure that was
hers. “Mrs. Gorell,” she said abruptly and shook her
head. “Poor old soul, I feel sorry for her. I wanted to
bring her up just now for a breath of air and she
wouldn't come. She just sits there in her room_"
“Grief is so terrible," began Alice.
“I've been wondering if it is so much grief as it is just
thinking,"
“Thinking?" I asked. “How do you mean?”
"I don't know,” Mrs. Lanfrey replied. "She just sits
and seems to think. There hasn't been a tear in her eye;
not while I was with her last night or this morning. At
times I think she's afraid.”
"Afraid—?” echoed Alice.
"Yes. Afraid.”


162 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
“Don't you think,” I suggested, “that the lonely re-
gion we're in the terrible isolation in which her hus-
band died-has released emotions other than grief, per-
haps even a sort of fear?”
Mrs. Lanfrey considered a moment. “Perhaps," she
said. “I don't know about such things. I only know that
her reactions don't seem normal to me."
"Has she said anything about what she wants to do
now-about her husband?"
"No," Mrs. Lanfrey drew her jeweled cigarette case
from a pocket in her sweater; the sunlight flashed on the
diamonds that encrusted its edges. “She hasn't said any.
thing to me. And I haven't asked her. I'm leaving that to
Carlos.” She offered each of us a cigarette and selected
one herself. “It's his job. I've done all I intend to do. I've
sat with the sorrowing and I'll look in on her once in a
while. But Carlos can do the dirty work from now on.
He's Captain of this tub. Well, be good, you dears," she
said. She accepted a light from me, and with a smile
swung away along the deck, a thin trail of blue smoke
about her shoulders.


We dropped anchor in Wreck Bay at Chatham Island
in the early afternoon. The launch was hoisted over the
side and Captain Lanfrey, Rogers and I went down the
ladder and were taken ashore. We said little until we
landed. As we neared the beach we discovered that our
arrival had been anticipated. Several men were awaiting
us, among whom was a dark little man of middle age and
a sad countenance. Captain Lanfrey, who was known to
him from previous visits, called him Governor, and they
shook hands warmly. The Governor spoke English halt-
ingly, but with a dogged persistence which brought him
eventually to adequate if belated expression. The Cap-
tain introduced us and we talked a few moments before
Lanfrey said:
"I want to report the death, Governor, of one of the
members of my party, Dr. Gorell, on Indefatigable, yes-
terday about noon.” He went on, giving a minute ac-
count of the accident while the Governor listened closely
and with a look of sympathy on his expressive face. He
shook his head mournfully when Lanfrey had finished,
offering condolence.
“It is very sad, my fran',” he said. “Very sad. You will,
of course, wish to take the dead man home with you to
your country?”
163


164 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
“I'ri quite sure, Governor, of that."
“The widow, of course, would not wish it otherwise?"
"No."
"There will be no difficulty, my fran'. You will come
to my house, Captain? And you, gentlemen?”
"Thank you, Governor," replied Lanfrey. “There is
one other matter. We found a man on Indefatigable who
says his name is Knutsen-”
"Ah! So? Chris Knutsen? We had thought he was dead.
And you have brought him back?"
"Yes,” and Lanfrey added what little more there was
to tell of the man. “I'll set him ashore, then, Governor.”
He stepped over to the launch and instructed the bos'n
to go get Knutsen and bring him ashore.
In an ancient, rusty flivver, we drove the five miles of
very bad trail to the village of Progreso, where more than
half the population of the archipelago lives in thatched
houses with walls of split sticks of bamboo. Arrived at
the Governor's house, the Governor set out an excellent
wine for us. He busied himself at his desk a few mo-
ments and then said to Lanfrey:
"It is arrange' now, my fran'. There is no difficulty
for you. I express my appreciation that you have come
to me instead of sailing away. Too many captains would
not do so. They would forget I am here on Chatham
Island—”
"I was coming anyway, Governor," interrupted Lan-
frey. "I wanted you to know we were in the islands and
what we were doing. We dropped anchor at Indefati-
gable, however, for a few days before coming on down to
see you.” The Captain looked at his watch, for the sun


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 165
was getting low. “Now that this sad business is out of
the way, Governor, will you come aboard and have din-
ner with us tonight?”
“I would be mos' happy," responded the Governor,
brightly. “I can be ready in a few minutes.” He rose
briskly and vanished into the interior of the house. We
heard his muffled voice briefly and in few moments
he came out again and we climbed into the flivver and
drove back to the bay. On our way down we met the tall,
plodding figure of Knutsen, wearing the clothes that
French had given him. When he saw us coming he held
up his hand for us to stop, and in a few words of Spanish
again expressed his thanks for his rescue and the clothing
he wore. We wished him good luck, and waved him
good-bye, little knowing under what circumstances we
would meet him again.
The dinner aboard the yacht that night was excellent,
as it usually was; the wine was special, and our spirits
struggled for release from the weight of tragedy. On
coming aboard, the Governor had gone with Captain
Lanfrey to Mrs. Gorell's cabin to offer his sympathy. At
dinner his Spanish nature responded to good food and
wine; his English improved somewhat with use as Mrs.
Lanfrey and Alice Wilmer plied him with questions,
and we sat longer than usual at table. He told us many
things about the islands, their history, about the inhab-
itants, their bleak lives, the stark desolation of the unin-
habited volcanic islands, of which we had had a taste at
Indefatigable.
Accordingly, it was getting on towards ten o'clock
when we saw the Governor over the side and wished him


166 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
good night. We turned away from the rail as the lights
of the launch drew away from the ship. Ardleigh, French,
Alice, Mrs. Lanfrey and Cranston disappeared. Rogers
and Lanfrey and I stood a moment. There was yet a
question to be decided; it was on all our minds, but the
responsibility was the Captain's. As we stood there a
short, dumpy figure came along the deck from the after
companionway and entered the lounge. The Captain
muttered something under his breath.
“Mrs. Gorell,” said Rogers. “Wonder what she wants
in the lounge?"
Lanfrey moved in that direction. Both Rogers and I
stood still, and Lanfrey seeing us hesitate, turned and
said:
“Come on, fellows, I need support; I'm going to have
it out with her now.”
Mrs. Gorell was standing by the shelves of books at
the end of the lounge when we entered. She did not look
up until Lanfrey spoke.
“Oh,” she said, as if her presence required explana-
tion. “I have been wishing for something to read, Cap-
tain. Something,”
“Yes, I know, Mrs. Gorell,” said Lanfrey softly. “Won't
you sit down a few minutes? We should have a little
talk."
Mrs. Gorell, with apparent reluctance, turned away
from the book shelves. She hesitated, when she saw Rog-
ers and me.
“We'd better go, Carlos,” said Rogers, gently pushing
me in the direction of the door. But Mrs. Gorell a mo-
ment later remarked:


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 167
“If the Captain wants you, gentlemen, it's all right
with me. We haven't anything to say, I'm sure, that you
can't hear too.”
Lanfrey pulled an easy chair towards the woman and
helped her to be seated. “No, Mrs. Gorell,” he said,
“there's nothing we can say that the whole ship’s com-
pany can't hear. Our hearts have gone out to you in your
bereavement. I merely wanted to report our activities
ashore-and talk to you a little bit-".
“Yes, Captain Lanfrey, I'm ready."
"My purpose ashore was to acquaint the Governor of
the islands with your husband's death. Not that it would
have made any particular difference, perhaps, if we had
sailed away without saying anything to him. But I al-
ways believe in observing the amenities in a situation
like this, even to the point of flattery. I'm sorry if the day
may have seemed wasted"
“Wasted?” echoed Mrs. Gorell bluntly. “Why, not at
all. I know these things have to be done.”
“And now, Mrs. Gorell, I want to know your wishes
in the matter of your husband's death.”
Mrs. Gorell, clasping a book in her lap, thought a
moment.
“My wishes, Captain,” she said at length, “may-I sup-
pose they may have to be subordinated to-to—".
“Now, Mrs. Gorell, we'll not talk of subordinating
your wishes. What I'd like very much to know is what
you desire me to do. If you will be so kind as to tell me,
then I will point out other things that must be taken
into consideration."
“Of course, Captain Lanfrey, at a time like this, nat-


168 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
urally, I want to be home. But Galapagos,"
"Galapagos is a long way from home, isn't it?"
“A very long way, Captain. And the scientific work has
hardly got started.”
“That's very true, Mrs. Gorell. But we'll leave that
aside for the moment. It's your problem we want to talk
over."
"The Doctor,” she said, “was so keen on coming. It was
one of the high points of his life to realize that he actually
was going collecting on the Galapagos. And I know it
must mean a great deal to the other members too-Dr.
Ardleigh, Dr. French and Mr. Bartlett here. I shouldn't
want my personal affairs to interfere-"
“Now, Mrs. Gorell,” Lanfrey interrupted sternly,
“that is not the kind of talk for you. You have suffered a
great personal loss. That takes precedence over all else
with the expedition. Until the problem arising out of it
is settled to your satisfaction, this expedition is going to
mark time.”
"But, Captain-it is so far to San Pedro. I could not
ask you to take the ship back,"
"I couldn't offer to do that, Mrs. Gorell; it is fortunate
that you realize that fact. There is no direct way for you
to go from here to San Pedro. The occasional fishing
boats in these waters from Southern California ports
could take you back, but their movements are uncertain,
and the accommodations for a woman probably not com-
fortable. But I'll tell you what I will do. Gladly. It's not
so very far from here to Panama-northeast about two
and a half or three days' run for the yacht. I'll take you
there and transship you and the body of your husband


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 169
to one of the coastwise passenger lines. There is frequent
service. You would not be delayed there more than a
day or two."
Something of a wave of relief seemed to pass over Mrs.
Gorell's fat countenance; she settled deeper into her
chair with a sort of sigh. “Captain Lanfrey,” she said,
“that's all I could ask. It's so generous of you. It will be
entirely satisfactory. If we can't go directly home”
"I can't think of returning to San Pedro. It is too
much, and you have not asked it. But this other way-to
Panama-will do very well, I'm sure.”
"Thank you, Captain. You are most kind. I feel that
all this has been a dreadful handicap to the expedi—"
"Now, Mrs. Gorell-” interrupted Lanfrey, rising.
Rogers and I both got up-“We'll not talk of that. The
round trip to Panama will not set the expedition back
very far in point of time. The expedition's loss, which is
of course irrevocable, is the lack of your husband in it;
his work was invaluable. There is no one among us to
replace him. And now, if you'll excuse me, I'll get things
under way,”
"You mean tonight, Captain? We're starting for Pan-
ama?”
“No, not tonight. These are dangerous waters in the
darkness. We sail at dawn.”
"Oh,” she said slowly. Then she shut her lips tightly,
and opened them only to say, “Well, I'm ready, Cap-
tain.'
"Good night, then, Mrs. Gorell," and Lanfrey bowed
to her and left the lounge. We heard his rapid footsteps
going forward on the deck outside.


As I started to follow Huntoon Rogers from the lounge,
Mrs. Gorell called to me. She had risen from her chair,
still clasping the book she had selected from the library.
“Mr. Bartlett,” she said, “Mr. Bartlett.” There was a
hint of command in her blunt tone, a bit of a plea for
help. Rogers looked at me, a faint smile lurking in the
corners of his mouth.
"Pleasant dreams, Benny,” he said and vanished.
"Mr. Bartlett," repeated Mrs. Gorell.
“Yes, Mrs. Gorell.” I waited for her to come up to
me, for she was making for the door where I stood.
"Would you humor an old lady,” she asked, “and see
her safely to her stateroom?"
“Why, certainly. Anything I can do,"
"I'll feel safer," she confided, and her fingers closed on
my arm in an old-man-of-the-sea grip I dared not shake.
She puffed as she walked along by my side, and made
only one remark on the way to her stateroom. “Captain
Lanfrey is a man of action, isn't he?" she said.
“Yes.”
We reached her door and she took a key from her
purse and unlocked it. The room was brightly lighted;
every bulb having been left burning during her absence.
I opened my lips to say good night to her.
“Come in,” she said, puffing slightly, “I have to make
170


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 171
sure I'm alone.” I was dragged into the room against my
will, although I refrained from betraying the fact to
her. “I have to be sure.” She released my arm to stoop
down and look under the bed. She went next to the
bathroom and satisfied herself it was unoccupied, then
looked into the clothes closet.
"Do you feel safe now?" I ventured to ask. She turned
abruptly upon me, almost hostilely, from where she
stood in the center of the room.
“No. I do not,” she said. For a long moment her small
dark eyes held mine. “Mr. Bartlett, sit down."
I looked about for a chair, but made one more effort
at freedom before I sat. “But, there's really nothing to
be afraid of, Mrs. Gorell, I can assure you of that.”
"Can you?" she said, a mingling of wistful hope and
sarcasm in her tone. “Sit down."
I sat down. There was something about this woman
I could not fathom. An old busybody I had catalogued
her when first she came aboard. Now her actions were
strange. The death of a life-long companion, I reasoned,
results in unexpected reactions, strange impulses in the
remaining spouse. The death of her husband in these
lonely desert islands must have come as a terrific shock
to this elderly woman; a shock from which she still suf-
fered. That she was frightened of it all, that something
like mortal terror clutched at her vitals, I was dimly
aware.
She sat down on the edge of a chair and looked at me
for a long moment. Then she said:
"The Doctor liked you, Mr. Bartlett. And I like you
too_”


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 173
woman. “I'm not going to stay here and talk nonsense.
Your husband was mistaken. I don't know who killed
Quigley, but I'd say Captain Lanfrey is the last man to
be suspected of that.”
“Somebody killed him,” she insisted stubbornly.
“Yes,” I agreed, rising.
"And somebody killed my husband.”
"You couldn't possibly know that, Mrs. Gorell,” I
said.
"I do know it,” she said solemnly. "I know it just as
well as I know that I am talking to you,"
“But proof-"
"I don't have to have proof. At a time like this one
knows things intuitively-'
I stood there in the middle of the room looking down
upon the dumpy woman who breathed so vengeful a
spirit that it made my scalp creep. I realized the bitter
hatred, the fear that held her in its grip, and it affected
me strangely. I felt a vague alarm for her; I was almost
persuaded that her intuition was correct.
“I must be getting some sleep," I said. “If you'll ex-
cuse me now, Mrs. Gorell-"
“No, no, don't go,” she begged.
"You have no cause for fear,” I attempted to reassure
her. “None whatever.”
She did not reply; she merely sat and looked at me,
and again I saw in her eyes the fearful light of a trapped
animal. I withdrew to the door and opened it quickly,
lest she suddenly restrain me. Instantly I had closed the
door behind me, I heard the key turned hard. The old
lady must have leaped across the room on my heels to


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 177
For his was the detached viewpoint; he hadn't been way-
laid as I had been by the widow and plied with strange,
unjust suspicions. "Perhaps you're right, French-"
"I feel very sure, Bartlett, about it. You'd surely have
to discount what she says now.” We were silent for a
while, then I said:
“But aside from that, French, there's something else;
there's a feeling of tragedy on this ship. I can't explain
it. It's like the soft suffocating weight of a horrid monster
in one's dreams, pressing down. There's a feeling that
still other things may happen to us, horrible things. I
don't like it. I wish we were out of it,"
French laughed softly. “Forget it, Bartlett,” he urged,
dropping his hand upon my arm. “You're letting your
emotions run away with you. Why don't you go and get
some sleep? I'm going now.”
“I will presently."
"I'm going now. Good night, old man. You'll feel dif-
ferently tomorrow.”
"Good night,” I answered.
I heard his footsteps recede in the darkness and a few
moments later, so still was it, the sound of his key in the
lock.


I TOSSED restlessly. The first faint clank of the engines in
the depths of the ship roused me from a doze and al-
though the porthole was black, I realized that dawn was
close and the Cyrene II was about to get under way for
Panama. Several hours later when I came on deck,
Chatham Island was only a dim blue line on the horizon
behind us, and the ship was rising and falling steadily
to the rollers of the open sea.
I breakfasted with Mrs. Lanfrey. All of the others
seemed to have eaten and scattered for the morning, or
else were not coming at all. Starr waited on us, a bit
anxious over the eggs but otherwise sunk into the back-
ground of service.
"Panama is at least something,” said Mrs. Lanfrey,
hopefully. “There are cafés and life and people. Here in
these Godforsaken islands we're leaving behind is noth-
ing. Isn't it insane of me to be married to a man like
Carlos Lanfrey?"
"Probably," I answered. “Now that you mention it.”
“Murders and accidents-death at sea-death on desert
islands, Ugh! I want to see something of life. I want to
be in Paris now. There's one thing, Carlos is not going to
get me away from Panama until I've had my fling,"
“Science to the contrary notwithstanding?" I asked.
178


182 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
stood there I saw the stocky figure of Cranston come
around the deck forward, espy Mrs. Lanfrey and pause
uncertainly a moment. Then he walked boldly over to
her and leaned on the rail at her side. Mrs. Lanfrey
glanced up at him lazily and went on smoking. They
were too far away for us to hear what was said between
them.
Alice Wilmer observed Cranston's arrival. She went
on painting in the scarlet coat for a few moments and
then said casually:
“Don't go away and leave me, Benny. I don't want that
fellow coming and bothering me.”
“Nobody loves him," I said. “Mrs. Lanfrey feels the
same as you do towards him."
“She's talking to him, though,” Alice remarked quietly
some moments later, glancing up from her easel.
Huntoon Rogers came along the deck, a book in his
hand. He found a deck chair to his liking and sat down
in it, calling a greeting to us. “I'm getting behind in
my reading,” he said. “This is as good an opportunity as
I'll have to catch up. I suppose I could develop pictures,
but they can wait. French and Miss Wilmer are the only
ambitious persons on board this morning.” He seemed
in good humor. He rubbed the side of his nose, settled his
glasses firmly and opened his book.
Ardleigh went round the deck again, passing us with-
out so much as a glance, speaking to Rogers only when
Rogers looked up from his book and remarked upon
the day. Mrs. Lanfrey and Cranston continued in their
conversation. In these scenes, now that we were well out
at sea and the blackness of the night in Wreck Bay at


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 183
Chatham Island was behind me, the vague feeling of
impending tragedy I had confessed to French seemed but
a dimly remembered dream. The bright sun danced on
the blue sea and gilded the polished brass work of the
yacht so that it shone like gold. Far from being the
funeral ship she was, the trim vessel was like a painted
ship on a painted ocean, bound to gay adventure.
"Poor Mrs. Gorell; I wonder how she is this morning,”
said Alice looking up from her work. Her words dispelled
my brightening thoughts.
“I've heard nothing of her," I said.
"When I finish Jimmy's portrait I'm going down and
sit with her awhile.”
“That would be sweet of you. But don't let her bore
you. Don't let her fill your mind with suspicions."
Alice looked at me a long moment with level, lovely
eyes of blue.
"Just what do you mean by that?" she asked.
I hesitated, considering my answer. Mrs. Gorell's sus-
picion of murder in her husband's death had gone far
enough, and I was wondering how to avoid its reaching
Alice's ears when we were interrupted by the sharp sound
of a slap.
“Oh, look-!" Alice exclaimed. “Did you see that?
Look!” I saw in an instant what it was; my eyes were
upon Mrs. Lanfrey when her arm went back and then
lashed forward to strike Jay Cranston full in the face a
second time with the flat of her hand.
Rogers put down his book and stirred slightly in his
chair. Some instinct in me propelled me to my feet, but
I continued to stand in my place. Mrs. Lanfrey after that


184 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
second slap drew slightly away from Cranston, her figure
at its full indignant height, her whole body vibrant with
anger. She seemed undecided whether to strike a third
time, then the next moment she abruptly left Cranston
standing alone at the rail and started walking away from
him. She broke into a run and passed from sight around
to the other side of the deck, and I heard her feet upon
the ladder to the bridge. A moment later came the sharp
slam of a door, and I reasoned that it was the door to
Captain Lanfrey's cabin.
Jay Cranston slunk away, leaving those of us who re-
mained on deck and who had witnessed the incident,
staring slightly at each other in mute inquiry at this un-
usual scene.
“That must have hurt,” said Rogers, calling to us.
"I don't blame her,” said Alice, the color rising in her
cheeks. “I've wanted to do the same thing to that little
beast."
"She must have had unusual provocation to do that,”
said Rogers. “She meant every ounce she put into that
swing." He laughed softly. “There'll be fireworks now.
She's gone straight to Carlos about it.”
Rogers was correct in his prediction; it was not long
until Captain Lanfrey came around the deck towards us.
Every fiber in his huge body was tense; his face was livid.
When he saw us he came directly, his feet treading the
deck as though he were bent on having blood.
"Where's Jay Cranston?” he demanded of us.
For a moment no one spoke, then Rogers put aside his
book and got up from his chair. "He was here a few
moments ago, Carlos. I didn't see where he went after


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 185
Mrs. Lanfrey slapped him,"
"You saw it, did you? Saw Reba slap him?”
“Yes. She slapped him twice-"
“She should have killed him. Come on, Hunt, help me
find him.”
The Captain turned away, and Rogers followed in his
wake. They disappeared somewhere forward.
Alice dipped her brush in the scarlet blob on her
palette and fiddled about with it instead of transferring
it to the portrait of Jimmy. “Something's up for sure,”
she said. “I'm glad I'm not Jay Cranston.”
“He's a little cad," I said.
“Do you suppose the Captain will kill him?"
“Don't be absurd,” I said, then I saw the faint smile at
the corners of her mouth. “But he probably needs it-
Look! Here they come now!”
Rogers, Cranston and the Captain were coming
towards us. Lanfrey's huge hand gripped Cranston's arm.
The young man walked jerkily, propelled against his
will. None of the three spoke as they came along. There
was a grim expression upon the Captain's bronzed face;
something of a look of sullen concern and anger on
Cranston's.
They reached the door leading to the forward com-
panionway; Rogers leaped ahead and opened it. Cranston
and Lanfrey passed through. Rogers lingered a moment
as if undecided, suddenly walked towards us, his eyes full
of eager interest. In a voice scarcely more than a stage
whisper he said:
"Carlos is locking him up in one of the staterooms.”


23
That evening after dinner, which had seemed a hurried,
uneasy meal, Huntoon Rogers and I stood aft at the rail
looking at the remnants of a blood-red sunset now turn-
ing gray and cold. In reply to a question Rogers said:
"It's bread and water and confinement in the cabin
for Cranston until we reach Panama. Then Carlos washes
his hands of the chap. Puts him on a boat homeward
bound. He's had enough. He's through. And I don't
blame him.”
“Cranston's impossible in decent company."
“Do you know what the trouble was between him and
Mrs. Lanfrey?"
“No. I haven't heard.”
“Cranston tried to blackmail her_"
"Blackmail?” I echoed in astonishment.
“Yes. The incredible cad tried to extort money from
her."
"On what ground?”
“Carlos told me this afternoon when I was talking to
him. I'm repeating no confidence; he didn't say I was to
keep it to myself and I have no hesitation in telling you.
It will go no farther, of course—"
“Of course not.”
“Cranston claimed in his talk with Mrs. Lanfrey this
186


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
187
morning that while he was acting as lookout the night
Quigley was lost overboard, he saw Quigley and Mrs.
Lanfrey together talking on deck. This, he said, was
about three o'clock in the morning. Cranston evidently
had discovered that we had found no one who admitted
seeing Quigley alive after Starr took him the whisky and
soda at eleven-forty-five that night, and he accused Mrs.
Lanfrey of concealing that bit of information from her
husband and the rest of us. He wanted a hundred dollars
from Mrs. Lanfrey as the price of his silence. Otherwise
he was going to Carlos about it,"
"And that's when Mrs. Lanfrey socked him?"
"Precisely. You know she doesn't care for him. Now,
whether Cranston actually saw Mrs. Lanfrey and Quig-
ley on deck together at that time, or whether he was
making that up out of whole cloth, I have no way of
knowing,"
"It's quite probable Cranston saw them,” I said.
“Do you know something about it?” demanded
Rogers.'
“Yes.” My thoughts reverted to the conversation I had
had on Indefatigable with Dr. Gorell. “They were seen
together by someone else.”
"Who?”
“Gorell.” I went on to tell him how the old con-
chologist had said that he could not sleep that night and
that, clad in slippers and bathrobe, he had stood in the
shadow of the companionway and seen the pair of them
talking together.
Rogers said nothing for a long moment. He rubbed
the side of his large nose thoughtfully and stared at the


188
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
cold gray sky. At last he said: “Mrs. Lanfrey has been
indiscreet. I guess there's no question of that. But even
so, I feel sure that she hasn't kept the fact from Carlos.
Carlos had previously intimated to me that he was cer-
tain that Quigley was alive much later than eleven-forty-
five that night. Mrs. Lanfrey probably has told him of
this late rendezvous, and they have suppressed mention
of the fact, since it apparently had no particular bearing
on who killed Quigley."
“It's quite natural; quite understandable," I agreed.
"I'm not fronting for either of them, Benny. I'm just
reasoning it out. I suppose this would account in a way
for this summary action with Cranston. Of course, Cran-
ston's a liar and a scoundrel. You remember he told
Carlos the morning after Quigley was lost that he had
seen nobody but the watch on deck that night. Imagine
his holding out like that just to blackmail Mrs. Lanfrey!"
"He's no good," I said.
Swift darkness settled down upon the sea; save for
the stars, the few lights of the ship, and a faint phos-
phorescence in the water, the world was black. It was a
time for confidences; it was the hour when doubts and
suspicions rise and clamor for a friendly ear.
“Gorell is gone,” I said at length. “And for him there's
no returning. The old fellow wasn't a fool, Hunt. Sit-
ting there in the shade with me the other day he voiced
a suspicion that I scoffed at. But I can't get it out of my
mind. He quite frankly brought up Quigley's murder;
said that many things seemed to point to himself as the
guilty man; but denied emphatically that he'd killed
him,"


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 189
"That's interesting. Just a bit amazing first hand like
that,” said Rogers.
“Yes. The old man took a fancy to me. Said he wanted
me to know just in case.”
“What did he mean by that?”
"I don't know. Maybe he had a presentiment of his
own death; maybe not. He didn't accuse anybody but
he did name a possible slayer of Quigley.”
The silence lengthened between us as Rogers waited
for me to say who it was, and when he saw that I hes-
itated he asked:
"Who was it?"
“Captain Lanfrey."
“Lanfrey? Carlos?"
“Yes.”
“That's impossible, Benny."
"That's what I told Gorell.”
"No," Rogers remarked slowly, "that's impossible. On
what grounds?"
“Gorell intimated perhaps Quigley had come between
Lanfrey and his wife. Natural reaction in a situation like
that, he said. Gorell advanced it, he said, as a man will
who is innocent and yet who sees the web of circum-
stance slowly closing in on him. He felt that the real
story had not been told yet.”
"It hasn't, Benny. There's no question of that.”
“And Mrs. Gorell—” I began.
"What about her?"
“Gorell shared his suspicions with her, and last night
the old lady voiced her belief that Lanfrey was guilty
of Quigley's death. And not only that, she says her hus-


190 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
band was murdered; she feels she knows it by some
intuitive sense. She intimated that there was a suspicious
circumstance in the fact that Lanfrey was the one to dis-
cover Gorell's body.”
“Oh, come now, Benny—that's all poppycock-the
sheerest nonsense! Gorell's death was an accident."
“What if it wasn't, now? What if Gorell's skull was
broken by a stone in the hands of someone, instead of
by a fall? What if Gorell's death is linked to Quigley's?”
“I can't believe it."
"Neither can I. But there must be some answer to the
question of who killed Quigley."
“There must be, of course. Notwithstanding what
you've just said about Gorell's denying he killed Quig-
ley, the chances are Gorell killed him. And now that he
has met death by accident, some sort of poetic justice
has been achieved. But granting for the moment that
Gorell's death was not an accident and that he was in-
nocent of Quigley's death, it would be even more diffi-
cult to find the answer. Everybody was on shore that
morning, and at some time or other any one of us could
have run across Gorell alone there in the bush.”
"Everybody except French," I reminded him.
“Yes, except him. He didn't come to shore, except for
lunch. He was always in that glass bottom boat. You
couldn't look out and not see him in it.”
“Even Starr on shore managed to get out of sight for
a while where he might have run into Gorell and killed
him.”
Rogers suddenly was silent. Finally he said slowly in
the darkness at my side: “Let's drop this thing, Benny.


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 191
I've had enough. We're not detectives. We might not
only do a distinct disservice to the expedition by our
speculation, but actually harm some innocent individual
by unjust suspicions if they should get about. Quigley's
death will be solved; Gorell's was an accident, no ques-
tion. Carlos can get a detective when we return home;
the federal authorities will have a chance at it too, since
Quigley's death occurred on the high seas. The thing
can be solved without bothering our heads about it."
"Perhaps you're right, Hunt,” I agreed. “But you
know how it is. A fellow gets this sort of thing on his
chest and has to get it off.”
"I know.”
I lighted a cigarette and tossed the match from me,
and we continued to stand at the rail. Far to port light-
ning flickered below the horizon. A footstep, or rather
a presence, passed us and continued around the deck,
reappearing again shortly.
“Good evening,” Rogers called and Ardleigh's drawl-
ing voice came back:
“Good evening, gentlemen.” The geologist paused for
a moment. “There's quite a storm off there; below the
horizon,” he said. "We'll probably catch it.” Having
spoken he waved a long arm in the dim light, and then
set out again on his noiseless tramping.
We talked idly of home; there were long intervals of
silence. Ardleigh vanished. At length Rogers straight-
ened up from the rail, stretched lazily and yawned. “I'm
getting sleepy. Benny,” he said. “I'm turning in.”
“Good night, Hunt," I said. “I'm not going in yet.”
“Good night, Benny.” He walked quickly away from


192 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
me. I finished my cigarette and tossed it overboard. I
was not sleepy, but of a sudden I wanted to be alone
in the comfort of my stateroom. So I went below and
locked my door and sat down to read.
It was midnight when I put aside my book and went
to bed. No sound of human stirrings disturbed the quiet
of the ship. Only the faint clank of the engines in the
depths below came to my ears from the inside. Outside
the wind seemed to have strengthened. Ardleigh had
said there was to be a storm. I remember thinking of
that and then no more until dreams came to trouble me;
vague dreams weighted with an intolerable sense of un-
easiness that finally roused me completely from sleep.
I rose on my elbow and switched on the light and looked
at my watch. It was two o'clock. The wind was howling,
a light dash of rain was coming in at the portholes and
I got out of bed and screwed them shut. The yacht was
rolling heavily and now and then came sharp squeakings
in the strongly built ship. There were occasional deafen-
ing crashes of thunder.
Some unfathomed reason impelled me to go to my
door, unlock it and peer out. The dim passageway was
empty. I stood a moment, then stepped out into it and
walked the length of it to the after companionway and
came back to my room again. I saw nothing, heard noth-
ing, but I was beset by an anxious feeling that some-
thing was wrong. I came back into my room and locked
the door, slipped into bed once more and turned out
the light.
For the remainder of the night I slept little, tossing
frequently in my effort to find sleep. Outside the storm


In that moment of terror which gripped us there in the
passageway, Dr. Ardleigh continued to stand, holding
with hopeless calm that knife still red with the blood of
Mrs. Gorell. No one spoke; there was only the sound of
hurrying footsteps converging upon the group we made.
I saw French's red hair surmounting a startled face pop
out of his stateroom; Starr's footsteps pounded along
from the dining room; Ernest was at his heels. Thunder-
ing in their wake came Captain Lanfrey, his face clouded
in stormy inquiry.
“Mrs. Gorell has been murdered,” said Rogers, his
voice breaking strangely on the word.
“What's that?” demanded Lanfrey, his voice crackling
in our ears. But before he could be told again what had
happened, he caught sight of his wife's form on the floor.
His tall figure instantly dropped beside her. “Rebal”
he said. “Reba! What is it? Speak-!” Then suddenly it
occurred to his distraught mind that Mrs. Lanfrey had
fainted. He picked her up, turned sharply about and
carried her away to his quarters, leaving us huddled to-
gether, uncertain what to do, unwilling and unable to
stir from the spot.
At that moment at our backs across the passageway
from Mrs. Gorell's stateroom there broke out a thunder-
195


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 197
us again. He called to Ernest as he came along the pas-
sageway:
“Yes, sir!" responded the youth at the sound of his
name.
“Go find Miss Wilmer. Tell her that Mrs. Lanfrey has
fainted, and that I want her to go sit with her in my
quarters. Tell Miss Wilmer that Mrs. Lanfrey will come
around all right shortly, and not to be alarmed. I just
want her there with Mrs. Lanfrey.”
“Yes, sir,” and Ernest hurried away.
"We'll keep the women away from this,” Lanfrey mut-
tered, then raising his voice: “Now, what is this? What's
happened? What are you holding that bloody knife for,
Ardleigh?” he demanded severely.
Ardleigh made an ineffectual gesture as though he
would drop the thing, but continued to hold on to it.
“I found it,” he said, speaking jerkily. “On the bed. In
there." He motioned at the half-open door which swung
slightly to the roll of the ship.
"How did you happen to go in there?” snapped Lan-
frey.
"To s-say good morning." Ardleigh's teeth were actu-
ally chattering. His face was now white. “I–I came by
on the way to breakfast. The door was open, Captain.
Like this," and he motioned again towards the door. “I
called out 'Good morning, Mrs. Gorell.' I thought she
answered—”
“Did she?”
“She couldn't have, Captain. I say I thought she an-
swered. I poked my head in slightly to make sure. And


200 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
to talk of that later."
We came out into the passageway and Lanfrey locked
the door behind us. Without another word he strode
away. Those of us who remained stood for a moment un-
certainly. Starr, catching my eye, of a sudden said:
"I'll swear, Mr. Bartlett, even though my jacket was
in there that I don't know a thing about it,” he ges-
tured feebly towards the locked door.
“Better stow it, Starr, as the Captain said," I counseled.
“There'll be plenty of time for that later."
"Well-maybe so—"he forced a faint smile that showed
his two gold teeth—“I can clear myself, I know." He
made as if to go, seemed to think of something, halted,
thought better of it and walked away towards the dining
room door where he paused and called back to us:
"Breakfast any time, gentlemen,”
The thought was nauseating. Ardleigh swore violently,
shook his fist at the steward's vanishing form and walked
away towards his door, unlocked it and disappeared
within his room.
“Let's get away from this place, Benny. It's getting on
my nerves,” said Rogers quietly to me. He led the way
towards the lounge. I followed in his wake with a feeling
of relief to be away from the horror of that room, glad
even for the sight of the gray rain outside the lounge
windows.
The ship had her nose in an angry sea. There was
no horizon; there was only grayness and driving rain,
and huge waves with great manes of spray, and spindrift
driving like fine shot. The lounge felt stuffy and smelled
of stale smoke, its temperature was oppressive. Rogers


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 201
moved across to a switch and started the ceiling fans, and
the room became more comfortable. Then he stood and
looked at me, rubbing his large nose thoughtfully. He
settled his glasses and at last spoke.
"Well, Benny,” he said.
“Go on and say it,” I barked.
“Quigley. Gorell. Mrs. Gorell,”
“That's three of them now," I observed, irritably.
“We're a jinx ship,”
“There's no question now that it's murder,”
“There's no question about Mrs. Gorell's death,"
“Nor is there any about Quigley—if there were any
doubts remaining-and Gorell's death was no accident-
it can't be now-".
"I guess maybe you're right, Benny."


THE Cyrene II came around in a great circle until her
sharp bow was splitting the wind and sea, and her speed
dropped until she had only seaway enough on her to
keep her steady in the storm. Ardleigh had joined us in
the lounge; then came Dr. French, followed by Alice
Wilmer, looking white and anxious. I went over to her.
“How's your patient?” I asked.
“Oh, Mrs. Lanfrey's much better. She revived quickly.
But why are we meeting here in the lounge?"
"The Captain asked us; he gave no reason.” As she
stood beside me I took her hand in mine. It was cold as
ice. She looked up at me searchingly.
“Don't leave me alone, Benny; I'm frightened," she
said.
"Don't worry," I advised. “Things will come out all
right.”
“But-Mrs. Gorell—"
“Hush! There's no good talking about it."
Mr. Getty, the Chief Officer, came in then, his face a
mask. He looked about the room and nodded, but did
not open his lips. Ernest came in with a carton of ciga-
rettes and replenished the boxes on the smoking stands.
He was still in the lounge when Captain Lanfrey entered.
Lanfrey paused just inside the doorway and looked
202


204 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
“There really isn't any need now for that, Carlos,"
said Rogers, breaking the silence of the Captain's au-
ditors.
"You're right, Hunt; there is no need now for that.
Mrs. Gorell's body can be cared for as was her hus-
band's; there's an undertaker among the crew-a sailor
who used to follow the business. But what are we going
to do? We can call the expedition off, go back to San
Pedro now, and the authorities there can clamp the
screws upon the entire ship's company and twist the
secret of these crimes out of the guilty person. That's
one course. The other is to return to Galapagos and re-
sume our work, crippled as we are with the loss of Dr.
Gorell, and get some of the things done that we hoped
to do when we started out-returning, of course, to San
Pedro and the inevitable when we have finished our
scientific work. I want an expression of opinion; I want
you to help decide what we shall do. Dr. Ardleigh, what
do you think about it?”
Dr. Ardleigh tensed suddenly in his chair, and wet his
hard turtle lips with the tip of his tongue. He cleared his
throat and spoke in rather an anxious voice.
"If we went back to the Galapagos, Captain, would we
have any assurance that our lives would be safe?"
“No more than we would have on the run from here
back to San Pedro."
Ardleigh was silent a moment. “There are many
things I had planned to look into, Captain, in the is-
lands. I haven't made even a good beginning at it in the
few days we were there, and if we return home now it
is not likely that at my age I'll ever come again."


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 205
"You're sort of on the fence, then, Doctor?”
"Well, yes; the matter of personal safety is all that
stands in the way of voting to go back to Galapagos."
“What do you think, French?" Lanfrey turned ab-
ruptly to the ichthyologist. French slowly tapped a ciga-
rette upon the arm of his chair and lighted it before
replying
"I'm something of a fatalist, Captain,” he said at last.
“If my number is up, it's up, whether I'm in the Gala-
pagos Islands or on the way home to San Pedro. Per-
sonally, I prefer returning to Galapagos and going to
work again. There's a lot to do there; it's paradise for
an ichthyologist. But couldn't something be done in the
meantime? About these killings? Couldn't we grill every-
body on board until we discover the criminal? It doesn't
seem to me we would have to wait till we get back to the
United States to do that.”
"That will be done, French; we'll not be idle. There's
no Sherlock Holmes on board, but we can at least do
something,” the Captain said grimly. “And of one thing
you may be sure, if we return to Galapagos, there's no
escaping ship for the murderer there. It's death by thirst
on any one of the uninhabited islands; he would be
quickly taken elsewhere. What do you say, Bartlett?"
There was a grimness about this meeting in the
lounge; the ambitions of scientists were being balanced
against the possibilities of a violent death at the hands
of an unknown assailant, with the weight tipping in
favor of ambition. The danger of a violent death at the
hands of an unidentified homicidal maniac who already
had struck three times at us was real, so real as to hang


206 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
like the executioner's axe over our heads. One could
wish himself well out of such a situation. Captain Lan-
frey, whose burly figure was silhouetted against the
forward windows through which gray driving rain and
a leaping angry sea could be seen, waited for my reply.
“Captain Lanfrey," I said after a moment's thought,
"you know as well as I, that I joined the expedition at
an hour's notice. I had no great enthusiasm for going to
the Galapagos; I had been there before. My ambitions
as a collector are those of an amateur, almost those of a
dilettante; it wouldn't break my heart if I never saw
the islands again, interesting though they are. But, even
so, I joined the expedition and when I did I joined with
the expectation of seeing the thing through; and I'll be
damned if I am going to be frightened out even by a
homicidal maniac. As you all know, when I am in the
field I carry a shotgun for specimens; I know how to
lock my door against the fears of night; I've been in
tough spots before this and I learned long ago how to
take care of myself. If I could be assured of one thing,
I'd say go back-"
“Thanks, Benny,” said Lanfrey with warmth in his
voice, “and what is the one thing?”
"I'd like to feel that the two remaining women on
board are safe from attack.”
"Well," the Captain paused a moment thoughtfully,
"I see no reason why we can't take sufficient precaution
to prevent that. After all, there are enough of us beyond.
suspicion to see to it.”
“Then I am for going back, Captain."


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 207
“I like your spirit, Benny,” he said. “And now, Miss
Wilmer, you are an important member of this expedi-
tion, and you are one of the two women on board; will
you be quite frank and tell us what you would have
us do?”
Alice Wilmer, who sat beside me on the davenport,
grew quiet; I sensed the muscles of her body tighten; the
color in her face deepened slightly and she spoke in a
steady voice:
“Let's go back to Galapagos, Captain Lanfrey."
For a moment there was silence among us. Even the
Captain seemed at a loss at this unequivocal reply.
“But-Miss Wilmer-aren't you frightened?” he asked.
“Yes, I am frightened-a little. But I want to go
back.”
Dr. French suddenly lifted his hands and applauded
her courage; Rogers picked it up and in a moment we
all had joined in the applause, while Alice sat blushing
at my side. She opened her lips.
“But-but,” she began, “what have I said?"
"You've said what some of us have not had the courage
to say, Miss Wilmer,” remarked Lanfrey. Dr. Ardleigh's
tall figure unwound from his chair and he stood up.
“Captain," he began, “I feel very humble in the pres-
ence of such bravery as Miss Wilmer has shown. I am
no longer on the fence. I join her, a little frightened, but
voting to return to the islands.”
“Thank you, Doctor. And now is there anyone here
who is not satisfied and who thinks it advisable to start
home? The opinion should be unanimous.”


208 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
He waited for some one to speak, but for a moment
there was silence. Then Rogers said: “It's unanimous,
Carlos.”
“Yes, I think it is.” The Captain turned to his Chief
Officer who had sat throughout without speaking. “Mr.
Getty,” he said, “will you be good enough to get under
way and set our course for Indefatigable Island once
more?"
The Chief Officer got up from his chair and withdrew,
while Captain Lanfrey continued to stand against the
forward windows; the grimness seemed to have vanished
from his face, but there was no relenting of the hardness
in his manner.
"I want to express my deep appreciation to you all,"
he said. “As you know, this expedition has been very
close to my heart. I should regret exceedingly to see it
abandoned short of doing everything we can do to make
it a success. And in fairness to you and towards the pro-
motion of our common safety, I pledge you my word
that I will do all that is in my power to discover the
murderer's identity and put him in irons against our
return home and the fate that he deserves. Now to that
end I'll need your help. As I have already said, there
are no Sherlock Holmeses on board. We will do the best
we can. Hunt Rogers and Benny Bartlett both already
have given valuable time and aid to me, unfortunately
without success, in the matter of Mr. Quigley's death.
The death of Dr. Gorell until now has been regarded as
an accident. I propose to look upon it henceforth as
murder. It would seem that there is some mysterious
connection between these three persons and the manner


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 209
in which they have died.”
“Why not get started now, Carlos?" asked Rogers.
"Is there any objection to proceeding at once with an
inquiry?” Lanfrey asked, looking about the lounge.
There was none voiced and Captain Lanfrey walked
over to a smoking stand, selected a cigarette, lighted it
and turned about in search of a comfortable chair. There
was a general relaxation among us, a shifting about, a
lighting of cigarettes and a murmur of conversation. In
this moment I felt the bite of the propellors, and the
ship began to move forward, and the sharp prow began
to swing in a wide circle through the heavy sea. We were
under way again for the Galapagos Islands.


“DR. ARDLEIGH," began the Captain, “can you throw any
light on the death of Mrs. Gorell? Anything that is not
already known?" His quiet voice, his casual manner sug-
gested that formality had been swept aside and that as
a group we had gathered for a chat upon inconsequential
things.
"I am afraid I cannot, Captain,” replied Ardleigh,
drawling slightly. “The last time I saw Mrs. Gorell alive
was yesterday afternoon. I knocked on her door and she
asked me in, and I sat with her awhile”
“Now, Doctor, did you see her alive after that? Or did
she say anything when you were talking to her that fore-
shadowed what happened?"
Ardleigh considered a moment, folding his long arms
across his chest, his hard lips growing harder and thinner
before he opened them to speak.
“No, to the first question, Captain. I did not see her
alive again after I left her stateroom. As to your second
question,” he paused for a long moment, “I hardly
know how to answer you. She did not say in so many
words that she expected to be murdered last night. As
far as that's concerned there was no hint even that she
ever expected any such thing to happen. The death of
her husband was a severe shock to Mrs. Gorell; she didn't
210


212
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
when he departed, so that it was swinging when Dr.
Ardleigh found her dead, the fact that it was closed at
two o'clock would indicate that she was still alive at
that time.”
“That's so,” said Lanfrey slowly. “Thanks. I would
say if her door was closed that she was still alive, cer-
tainly. That brings it, then, down to two o'clock. Any-
body else who knows any short cuts to these questions
we're interested in?" No one answered as he glanced
around the circle of faces. “How about you, French?
You're something of a night owl. You didn't kill the old
lady, did you?” The Captain's manner made an exaggera-
tion of the question, grimly touched with humor.
French drew a long breath on his cigarette, tilted his
red head back and slowly exhaled a cloud of smoke. A
light smile flickered about his full lips; he knocked the
ash from his cigarette and then replied in the manner
Lanfrey had asked the question.
“Not unless I did it in my sleep, Captain; somnam-
bulism, however, to my knowledge is not one of my
accomplishments.”
"When did you go to bed?”
“About eleven o'clock.”
"You work too hard, French.”
"No, just hard enough. I knocked off at ten-thirty and
wrote a letter with the expectation of posting it in
Panama.”
Rogers interrupted. He rubbed the side of his nose
thoughtfully a moment and spoke up:
“Carlos, I wonder if we're not wasting time—?"
"How so, Hunt?”


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 213
"There isn't anybody here who could possibly be
guilty of these crimes. And there were certain things in
Mrs. Gorell's room early this morning which might very
well be called clues. We know close enough to the time
she must have died-the time doesn't seem to be impor-
tant; the manner of her death is certainly obvious.
Wouldn't it be just as well to see where those clues
lead?”
“And by clues you mean what, Hunt?”
“The knife, which apparently belonged in the galley;
the white jacket on the bed, which Starr admitted was
his; and the scarlet crab dead on the floor_”
“Oh, Jimmy?” the exclamation came from Alice. “Is
Jimmy dead?”
The sound of her voice drew the general attention to
her. For a moment no one spoke, then Rogers said
solemnly:
“Yes, he was a casualty too; he got stepped on.”
Captain Lanfrey was silent while we waited for him
to speak. Outside the rain was driving against the win-
dows of the lounge, and the wind was howling; the
yacht slid down a mountainous wave and slowed ab-
ruptly when her nose struck the bottom of the trough.
“I don't know about the crab,” said Lanfrey looking
up at us quickly. “I'm not sure about the knife. But the
jacket which Starr admits is his seems too obvious. Every-
thing points to Starr as guilty of the murder. All of you
have been thinking so ever since the crime was discov-
ered this morning. But it's too much, I tell you. Would
Starr, bent on murder, go there, kill the woman, leave
the knife behind instead of throwing it overboard, take


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 215
she was afraid of anything-of what might happen to
her?"
“Yes. She was afraid. She said there was somebody on
the ship who was her enemy. She hoped we would get
to Panama before anything happened. She said that was
why she preferred going to Panama, rather than insist-
ing that you take her straight home to San Pedro. Pan-
ama is closer.”
“Now, we're getting somewhere,” said Lanfrey, strik-
ing a match.
"In spite of my trying to keep her mind on other
things, though, she kept wanting to tell me that Dr.
Gorell was murdered. I asked her how she knew it, and
she said there was no proof, but that she knew it any-
way. I argued with her that everybody believed it was
an accident, and that she ought to take your word, Cap-
tain, because you had been there and investigated.”
"What did she say to that?”
“She just insisted she was right, and I said: 'Mrs.
Gorell, if you are going to talk like this I'll have to be
going.' And soon after that I left her and went to my
room and I didn't hear anything except the storm-until
Mrs. Lanfrey screamed."
Captain Lanfrey pursed his full red lips, his face was
thoughtful. He drew on his cigarette, his eyes fixed on
the rain-lashed windows across the lounge.
“Now, Miss Wilmer,” he said, "let's go back a bit. You
say Mrs. Gorell was afraid of someone on the ship. Did
she say so in so many words?”
“Yes. And as Dr. Ardleigh said a while ago it was easy
to see that something had frightened her. Her voice


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 217
tongue then said in a voice almost inaudible:
“She accused you, Captain Lanfrey!”
For a moment the silence was broken only by the rain
and the wind outside. Lanfrey sat staring at the girl, his
cigarette burning slowly in his thick fingers.
“Me?” he echoed at last.


98 Wilmer.” sin got up and le
preciate your
ALICE WILMER nodded her head. Suddenly she spoke.
“She said you had killed her husband, that you had
killed Jack Quigley, that she was afraid of you. I told
her she was crazy, Captain; I told her I would not listen
to any more silly accusations. And I got up and left."
“Thank you, Miss Wilmer,” said Lanfrey simply, “I
appreciate your defending me like that,”
Rogers leaped suddenly out of his chair. “I want to
say something,” he barked, glaring at us. “I want to say
that I think Mrs. Gorell's mind was unbalanced. It's the
kindest thing that can be said of her now that she is
gone. There was something about Mrs. Gorell and her
husband, too-Benny Bartlett can tell you that Gorell
himself had some such curious notion about your being
the guilty person, Carlos-I mean in Quigley's death,
they were not all there, those Gorells,” and he tapped
his forehead.
“Thanks, Hunt, but,"
“Now, wait a minute, Carlos, I'm not done yet. If
there is anybody here who thinks you are guilty of any
one of these three deaths, I'll say he's crazy-" He
doubled his fist ludicrously in the heat of his defiance.
“There isn't anybody here who thinks it, Rogers,"
said French, his voice breaking in sharply. “There's no
218


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 219
use of that. I say let's forget it and look some place else
for the killer, rather than to Captain Lanfrey. It's ridic-
ulous.”
"Thank you, French," said Lanfrey. He tossed his
cigarette away. “And thanks, Hunt. I'm sure I appreciate
your attitude. I realize that I should not be above sus-
picion. If I am suspected I'll submit to any third degree
you can devise, if you think I'm not telling the truth.
But I give you my word now that I neither am the slayer
nor do I know anything of his identity, although I wish
to God I did.”
For a moment we sat silent, then Rogers asked, “Is
there anything else now, Carlos, that you want to talk
over?"
“No, thank you.” The Captain got to his feet. “Thank
you all for giving me your time. I hope I may call on any
of you as the need arises for assistance in unraveling this
thing.”
With a slight bow he left us.
Long after the others had departed Rogers and I sat
in the lounge talking; it appeared to us as a problem that
defied solution.
"We didn't get anywhere in Quigley's death,” I re-
marked.
“No,” said Rogers, rubbing the side of his nose
thoughtfully. “I've read as many as a half-dozen detective
stories in my time. That's my only qualification as a
detective-and yet, Benny, there's some solution to this
thing." He paused and looked up. Ernest was standing
in the doorway. “What is it, Ernest?” he asked.
"Captain Lanfrey wants to see you on the bridge.”


2 22
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
Lanfrey relaxed momentarily in his chair. “All right,
Webber. That's all. Tell Starr to come up at once.”
“Yes, sir,” puffed the cook, heaving out of his chair
and making his way carefully out of the cabin.
Captain Lanfrey tossed the cigarettes across to us,
then put the knife away in his desk. He lifted his voice
and addressed the Chief Officer on the bridge. “She's
riding a little easier now, don't you think, Mr. Getty?"
“Yes, Captain Lanfrey. The storm is blowing by, sir.”
Starr appeared suddenly in the doorway and stood
waiting the invitation to enter. Lanfrey waved him
towards the chair Webber had vacated.
"You wanted to question me, sir, about the murder
of Mrs. Gorell,” the steward said, matter-of-factly.
"Right, Starr. We do,”
"I can explain everything,”
“Now, wait a minute,” Lanfrey caught him up ab-
ruptly. “I'll do the talking. You answer the questions."
“Yes, sir."
The steward's sober face took on lines of anxiety; he
brushed a nervous hand across his lips and sat waiting.
“Starr," began Lanfrey, his voice growing hard,
"things look bad for you. You came in for considerable
suspicion in the death of Quigley; there's even more
directed towards you in the death of Mrs. Gorell. There
are some things that will take a lot of explaining." He
dipped into the open drawer and fished out a white
jacket with brass buttons and dropped it upon the desk.
"That's yours," he said.
“Yes, sir.”
“'It was found in the stateroom with Mrs. Gorell's


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 223
body. On the bed, in fact. Now what damn fool idea you
had in leaving it there—"
“I didn't leave it there, sir,” said Starr, his voice rising.
“How did it get there?”
“I don't know, sir. I missed it when I dressed for duty
this morning. At night I keep my jacket in the galley on
a hook. It was gone when I went to put it on this,”
"Did you kill Mrs. Gorell?”
For a moment the steward stared at Lanfrey as though
doubting his own ears, then he spoke. “No, sir; I'll swear
I didn't, sir,” his voice rose almost to a shriek, his face
blanched. “I couldn't do a thing like that.”
He sat looking helplessly from one to the other of us,
a fine perspiration appearing on his upper lip.
“Where did you go that noon on shore, Starr—the day
Dr. Gorell was murdered?"
"Murdered?” the steward repeated aghast. “I thought
it was an accident, sir.”
“Never mind what you think. Where did you go?”
"I just went down the beach a little way, sir, and into
the bushes. I had had very little time ashore, sir, and I
couldn't resist the temptation to see something of a
desert island, since I was early with the lunch and there
was a little time I could use. I turned my ankle, sir, and
had to sit awhile until the pain stopped and I could
walk.”
"Did you see anybody?”
"Only Mr. Cranston some distance off. He waved to
me and I waved back.”
"Did you see Dr. Gorell?”
"No, sir.”


224 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
“Did you kill him?"
“Kill him?" An expression of pain shot across the
steward's face. "You don't mean, sir, you think I'm
guilty?-I didn't-I'll swear I'm not guilty of anything
like that, sir."
“All right, Starr. Now, how about this knife?" and
Lanfrey drew the knife from his desk and laid it along-
side the white jacket.
“It's cook's knife, sir.”
"Where did he keep it?”
“In the galley beside the meat block.”
"Have you a key to the galley?"
"Yes, sir.”
"You can go and come whether cook's there or not?"
“Yes, sir.”
“What about the second cook? Has he a key?"
“No, sir; he lost his key and Webber won't give him
another.”
"Was the galley locked this morning when you went
to get your jacket?” Starr was silent a moment, his har-
ried brain puzzling for the recollection.
"I believe not, sir. I remember,”
“Who locks the galley at night?"
“I'm supposed to, sir. I'm usually the last—"
"Did you lock it last night?"
For a moment Starr did not answer, then he looked up
slowly. "I don't think I did, sir. I intended to. I remem-
ber now I didn't. I'm sorry.”
Lanfrey was silent; he picked up his cigarette which
had lain on the edge of his desk and inhaled deeply be-


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 225
fore speaking again.
"Tell me about that crab,” he said, looking at the
steward.
“The scarlet crab, sir?" he began. “Well-you see. I
was going to ask Miss Wilmer this morning if she
wouldn't take it back. If she didn't want it I was going
to throw it overboard. It was a nuisance, sir.”
“In what way?"
“Always under foot. Or, at least, I thought I was go-
ing to step on it any minute, even though it would dart
away just in time. It would follow me about like a dog,
sir."
“Followed you into Mrs. Gorell's room, you mean?"
"No, sir,” he answered, a pleading look in his eyes.
“It would start following me from the galley and I would
shoo it back, sir.”
"Where did you keep it?"
"It stayed in the galley under the ice box, sir, except
when Miss Wilmer asked if I would bring it to her so
she could paint it.”
"Was it locked in the galley at night?”
“Yes, sir. It really was becoming a nuisance. Crabs are
all right on desert islands, but they have no place, sir, on
a yacht like the Cyrene II when Ernest and I are serv-
ing; at least not in the galley and trying to follow you
into the dining room.”
“You're probably right about that, Starr. Would that
crab follow anybody else besides you?”
“Yes, sir. He would follow Ernest or cook the same as
me, sir. Cook threatened to make a cocktail of him, sir,


ROGERS closed the stateroom door behind us, and we
advanced into the room which earlier that day had held
the ghastly body of Mrs. Gorell. All evidence of the
murder had been removed, the bed was stripped to the
springs; otherwise nothing had been touched. Neither
of us spoke in the first few minutes after we had shut
the rest of the ship away from us and our task; our eyes
roved about the large, beautifully furnished room which,
next to Captain Lanfrey's quarters, was the most de-
sirable aboard ship.
"Why does one human being kill another human be-
ing, Benny?” asked Rogers earnestly. "What are the mo-
tives, aside from the hot blood of a quarrel or the
homicidal mania of an insane person?”
I sat down in a chair while Rogers continued to stand
in the center of the room. “I've read them somewhere,”
I answered. “I don't know now that I can remember
the list. Revenge is one."
"Yes, revenge is probably the most elemental of all-
it's hot blood turned cold and premeditative and nursed
upon a deep sense of injury.”
"And I remember both money and women were given
-and jealousy. Hatred, I suppose too."
“Any of the baser passions, Benny, might result in
227


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 229
to know too much, he would have to be removed; and
further, because Mrs. Gorell so persistently stated her
husband had been murdered and seemed to want to
fasten the blame on Carlos, her death was inevitable.
However else we may speculate about Quigley and
Gorell, there's no question in my mind that Mrs. Gorell
was killed because the slayer was afraid of her. A killer-
a repeating killer-probably is motivated by more than
one reason. He may kill for one reason and kill again
and again for still other reasons. Since he can die but
once, he becomes coldly calculating after his first crime,
for subsequent crimes cannot increase the penalty.”
"You're probably right, Hunt, and yet—"
“I'm sure I am. But-what were you going to say?"
"You can reason the same way by substituting Starr
or Cranston in the place of Lanfrey, except that the
original crime would have a different motive. In either
of the two others it would be money-passions aroused
by the crap game that hadn't quite cooled. Cranston was
the lookout that night. It's not unlikely he saw Gorell
wandering about at three o'clock in the morning and
feared he had been seen committing the crime; or the
same with Starr-"
“Of course,” interrupted Rogers, “Cranston's being
locked up last night rather takes him out of the picture
so far as Mrs. Gorell is concerned—”.
“It does. But, Let's clean this job up that Lanfrey has
asked us to do and get out of here. I can think of more
cheerful places to be.” Rogers rose quickly.
“All right,” he said. “Let's pack everything up and
list it, just as we did with Quigley's things, saving out


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 231
the crab were alive it could not tell the identity of the
murderer; presumably it followed the killer in here and
got stepped on accidentally. And of what use is it dead?”
“None whatever.”
"They've taken the thing out, haven't they?"
“I suppose so. I don't see it around anywhere.”
We worked on for half an hour longer before we
reached a stopping place. The clothing all had been
listed and packed away. There remained some personal
letters addressed to Mrs. Gorell, a note book in which the
old conchologist had taken his field notes, some type-
written sheets which were an elaboration of his notes,
considerable blank typewriter paper, a small account
book in which were listed his personal expenses, four
books of reference, a pocket dictionary, and a line-a-day
diary, which presumably was Mrs. Gorell's. Rogers
turned rapidly through the leaves.
“Kept it right down to last night,” he said, looking
up. “Listen to this: 'Ship heading for Panama and safety.
It cannot be too soon. I fear the Captain more and more.
Dr. Ardleigh called in afternoon. Dinner in my state-
room. Miss Wilmer came in during the evening.'”
“Might be something of a clue in that, Hunt,” I said.
“Yes. It will have to be gone through. We'll turn it
over to Carlos. Is there anything else among this stuff,
do you think, Benny, that's worth saving out?”
“I doubt it. There's nothing I'd be interested in, ex-
cept the diary."
“How do you suppose the murderer got in here last
night, anyway, Benny?” Rogers suddenly asked. He
tossed the diary down upon the desk and walked over to


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 233
That might be the explanation in this case—".
"And again it might not,” I objected. “If Dr. and Mrs.
Gorell had not been man and wife, and if Quigley had
not been their son-in-law, although about to be removed
from such status by his wife's pending divorce suit, I'd
say homicidal mania might be the answer. But there is
that relationship among them which suggests a common
reason for the death of all three. For a homicidal maniac
to kill those particular persons, impelled as he would be
by only an insane desire to slay, lies outside the laws of
chance. Or largely so.”
“I imagine you're right, Benny,” said Rogers thought-
fully. “Well, do you think the rest of us are safe, then?”
“Yes. Until such time as the murderer discovers that
somebody else knows his secret. Then he'll attempt mur-
der again.”
"That's possible, Benny-and uncomfortable to think
about,” he said, with a shake of his head. He opened the
door and waited for me to pass through, and then closed
it behind us, locked it and stuck the key in his pocket.
As we emerged the tall, thin figure of Dr. Ardleigh was
moving down the passageway towards his stateroom. He
made no sound as he walked along, and did not turn
about to see who had come out of Mrs. Gorell's room.
Somehow I could not escape the thought that he might
have been standing outside the door listening. Perhaps
I was unjust, but the thought had intruded upon my con-
sciousness whether or no.
We started to turn away in the direction of the Cap-
tain's office when Rogers' eyes fell upon the door of the
stateroom opposite, and I observed him pause for a mo-


234
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
ment, as if struck by a sudden thought. For a moment he
hesitated, then crossed the width of the passageway and
rapped smartly upon the panel of the door. There was
no response. He waited a moment then rapped again
sharply. This time there was a stir in the room, then
Cranston's voice demanded:
"What do you want?”
Rogers laid hold of the key still in the lock, twisted it
quickly and opened the door. Across the room Cranston,
fully dressed, was lying on the bed, propped up on one
elbow, as though but aroused from sleep.
“Come on in,” Rogers said to me, and I followed him
inside.
Cranston observed us sullenly until we had closed the
door behind us, then he repeated, “What do you want?”
"We want to talk to you, Jay,” said Rogers, sitting
down in a chair near the bed.
Cranston flopped down on his back and stared at the
ceiling.
“When do I get out of here?” he asked.
"Captain Lanfrey is your jailer, Jay. When he says
out, you'll come out.”
"What do you want, then?"
“You knew that somebody murdered Mrs. Gorell last
night-just across the passageway from you, didn't you?”
"I found that out this morning."
“What do you know about it?"
“What do you expect me to know, locked up in here?"
“Did you hear anything in the night; any unusual
sounds, screams, keys being turned in locks, anybody
walking suspiciously along the passageway?”


By late afternoon the rain had ceased and the wind was
lessening, although the sea remained high. The trim,
white Cyrene II, her sharp nose slicing the crests of
huge waves in a smother of spray, plowed onward
towards our goal in the Galapagos Islands.
"Perhaps we are foolish, perhaps not,” said Captain
Lanfrey, rubbing a thick hand across his bronzed face
and yawning prodigiously. On his desk in the tiny cabin
just off the bridge lay the diary that Rogers and I had
brought him from the personal effects of Mrs. Gorell.
That poor old soul's body now lay deep in the ship be-
side that of her husband, awaiting the time when we
should return home. “But the die has been cast,” con-
tinued the Captain. “We'll take our chances. Mean-
time,” he suddenly snapped into a more vigorous man-
ner, "we're going to find out who this murderer is." He
thumped the desk with a heavy fist at each of his con-
cluding words. He got to his feet. “Let's put this diary
aside for the present. I'm more interested in what you
tell me about Jay Cranston. He admitted it, did he?"
“Yes,” replied Rogers rising. “He admitted that he
was out of his room last night, and, moreover, wanted
to know what I was going to do about it.”
“I'll show him what we're going to do about it,” said
236


238 · THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
frey, coldly. “What do you know about it?"
“I don't know anything about it. I didn't know it had
happened until this morning when you all began to raise
hell outside my door."
"What time were you out of this room?"
“How do I know?" Cranston snarled.
Lanfrey leaped out of his chair and slapped the young
man smartly across the face with the flat of his hand.
Cranston instantly was raging; he lashed out at the Cap-
tain with his fists, which Lanfrey seized in his powerful
hands, forcing him back upon the bed. Again he slapped
him and Cranston's antagonism melted, although his
dark eyes continued to hold points of venomous fire.
"Now I want the truth out of you,” Lanfrey gritted.
"What time were you out of this room?"
“Three o'clock,” Cranston answered, sullenly.
“How long did you stay out?"
“Half an hour.”
"What did you do?”
“Nothing. Loafed around. Got something to eat in
the galley. You're not going to starve me on bread and
water."
“Now, what about Mrs. Gorell?” Lanfrey pursued.
"I didn't have anything to do with that, I tell you."
Cranston's voice was high-pitched in alarm.
"Was her door open or closed?"
“Open. No, closed. I don't know which it was."
Lanfrey leaned forward menacingly. “Which was it?"
“Open,” said the young man, obviously frightened.
“What did you go in there for?”
“I didn't, I tell you. Why should I go in there? What


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 239
did I care if her door was open? She was just an old
woman,”
Rogers suddenly got from his chair, leaped towards
Cranston, stooped and seized him by the right angle, and
straightened up so quickly that Cranston was thrown
back on the bed. Cranston's left foot swung viciously in
an effort to kick Rogers off; I leaped and seized him by
the other ankle and held it, although Cranston's power-
ful legs threw us about smartly.
“What do you want?” he demanded, lying on his back
on the bed as he struggled to right himself. “What are
you trying to do?"
"See that, Carlos?” said Rogers through his teeth as
he held the sole of Cranston's shoe up for the Captain's
inspection. “You see it, don't you?"
“Yes.”
Cranston kicked violently.
“See what?” he demanded. “There ain't anything
there to see.”
Rogers signaled to drop Cranston's feet and we let
go together and leaped back while the young man's legs
flailed vainly at us. He righted himself.
“There's nothing to see,” he began.
“No?” said Lanfrey, renewing his menacing manner.
"I'll tell you what's on the bottom of your shoe, Jay.
There's a piece of crab shell, a bit from a scarlet crab
that's dried on under the arch. You stepped on that
crab, didn't you?"
Jay Cranston did not answer. He lifted his right foot
and rested it on the edge of the bed, turning it over so
that he could see the telltale bit of evidence. With his


240 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
thumb nail he scraped it off and the scarlet bit that had
been part of the carapace of Jimmy, the scarlet crab,
dropped to the floor.
"I'm talking to you, Jay,” persisted the Captain
harshly. "You stepped on that crab, didn't you, in Mrs.
Gorell's room?"
Jay Cranston's face blanched and he swallowed; a
wild look was in his dark eyes; he glanced about as
though in panic to escape his tormentors. Then he faced
Lanfrey and said hoarsely:
“I'll talk. But I didn't kill her. I'll swear to God I
didn't do it,"
“Go on and talk, then,” snapped Lanfrey.
"Well, I was hungry, see? You were trying to starve me
on bread and water, and I had to have something to eat.
That's why I took the door off its hinges. I had to have
something to eat. And I went to the galley,"
"Was the galley unlocked or did you break into it?"
"It was unlocked,” answered Cranston, on the defen-
sive.
“Go on.”
"Well, I found something to eat in the ice box, and
I ate a square meal. And I sat there and smoked a couple
of cigarettes."
“Then what did you do?"
"I started back to my room, and as I came through into
the passageway outside here,” he jerked his head towards
the stateroom door, “that damned crab went by me and
down the passage. It followed me from the galley. It went
on down and ran into Mrs. Gorell's room."
“Mrs. Gorell's door was open?”


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 241
“I said it was, didn't I?” Cranston retorted irritably.
"Was it open when you first got out of this room?"
"Yes.”
“And you didn't look in then?"
“No.”
“Go on,” prodded Lanfrey.
"Well, I stopped in front of the door and tried to see
where the crab went. The lights were all on. Thought
maybe the old lady had heard me break out of my room,
and I wanted to square her so she wouldn't tell on me.
I looked in and saw her all bloody,” he winced as he
recalled the gruesome sight.
"What did you do then?”
“I thought I'd get back in my room and keep still
about what I'd seen. Then I got to thinking how Starr
had given me the dirty end of things. I owed him some-
thing, so I went back to the galley and got his jacket
which was hanging there, and cook's butcher knife and
brought it along too, and I went in and put the jacket
on the bed and smeared the knife in the blood and when
I stepped back to come away I stepped on the damned
crab which was still in the room. Then I came on back
into my room and put the door on the hinges again.
And that's the God's truth, Uncle Carlos. I know I
shouldn't have tried to mix Starr in it that way, but you
know how it is when you get to hating a guy."
Jay Cranston stopped talking, and for a long moment
there was no sound in the stateroom.
“Will you swear to that in court, Jay?"
“Yes, sir, I will.” As he had talked, Jay Cranston's
manner had softened; from a sullen, vicious-seeming


242
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
young man, he became more open and frank, the honest
hope that he would be believed was stamped upon his
dark countenance. He verged upon the penitent. Cap-
tain Lanfrey observed the change in him and was af-
fected by it; his voice was less harsh when he replied, the
gruffness almost gone, although he left no doubt that he
dominated the situation.
“Now, go back a minute there, Jay,” he said.
"Yes, sir.”
“Mrs. Gorell was dead when you went into her room,
you say? And you say that you went back to the galley
and got cook's butcher knife?".
"Yes, sir.”
"Was that knife clean, then-did it have any blood on
it when you took it out of the rack?”.
"It was clean. I had used it to cut me a piece of ham,
then wiped it and put it back in the rack. Handling it
that way is why I happened to think to bring it along
with the jacket.”
Here was a puzzling thing. Mrs. Gorell had died from
knife wounds. The knife that had been thought to be
the instrument used by the murderer was no longer to
be considered as the death weapon.
"Well-Jay-Mrs. Gorell's throat was cut, wasn't it
when you saw her about three o'clock this morning?"
"Sure," answered Cranston, with a grimace.
"I don't see- The murderer must have carried away
the knife he used then. Probably threw it overboard."
"No, he didn't,” said Cranston.
“He didn't?" echoed the Captain.
"No, sir. It was there on the bed,"


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 243
"Where is that knife now?" demanded Lanfrey.
"I've got it,” said Cranston, getting up from the bed
and going towards the chiffonier. “I was going to throw
it out of one of the portholes when the waves quit wash-
ing over them.”
“Oh, no!” Lanfrey objected emphatically. “We want
that knife as evidence.”
Cranston came back carrying a small black-handled
scalpel.
“Here it is,” he said, handing it to Captain Lanfrey.
The Captain took the bloodstained knife gingerly in
his fingers. With a cold, creeping sensation along my
scalp I realized what Lanfrey held in his hands.
“Whose is it?” he asked, turning it about. I opened my
lips to speak. “The initial 'B' is scratched on it.”
"That's my knife, Captain,” I said, my voice sounding
far away in my own ears. “I used it to skin and dissect
birds—in the laboratory."


30
CAPTAIN LANFREY's blue eyes were fixed upon mine.
For a moment his lids narrowed slightly, then widened;
he opened his lips, saying with grim humor:
"Well, Benny, you've joined me as one of the sus-
pects.”
"But-" I began, and he silenced me with a wave of
his hand.
"Forget it. I was joking. That laboratory down there
isn't locked. Anybody on ship has access to it. Anybody
planning to kill Mrs. Gorell naturally would prefer to
use somebody else's knife”.
“Thank you, Captain, but I want to say this-I want
to say in the presence of you three as witness—that Cran-
ston's producing that knife just now was a complete sur-
prise to me. I didn't kill Mrs. Gorell—”
“Of course not," Rogers snorted.
"As a matter of fact I had not missed the knife. Since
we left Indefatigable I have not had any occasion to use
it. I'd thrown it in a drawer after I worked up the last
specimens I took on the island.”
"Well," and Captain Lanfrey got to his feet. “As I
say, Benny, just forget it. You don't have to explain any-
thing."
Rogers and I likewise got up from our chairs. Jay
244


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 247
investigation. Don't care for the Captain. John's death
will solve Betty's problem without going through di-
vorce court. Doctor worked on his Ms. in evening.'”
"Who's Betty?" asked Lanfrey.
“According to Miss Wilmer," I answered, “she is Mrs.
Gorell's daughter; separated from Quigley at the time
of his death.”
“I remember now,” said Lanfrey. “Go on, Hunt.”
"Well, Next day; quoting: 'At sea. Doctor is worrying
over something. He won't tell me. I think he believes
John Quigley's death was murder and not an accident.
I am a little frightened. Doctor worked on his precious
Ms. most of day. Double solitaire in evening.'”
"Nothing there that we don't already know,” I re-
marked. Lanfrey and Rogers refrained from comment.
“The next day is blank,” said Rogers, “except for the
notation ‘at sea.' The day following; quoting: ‘At sea.
Doctor worked hard all day on his masterpiece, trying to
keep his mind off his worry. He still won't tell me what
it is. I'm really uneasy that something is wrong on the
ship. Talked with Mr. Bartlett. He seems a sensible
young man. Told me John's death was an accident. I
don't believe it. There must be a murderer on board.'”
Captain Lanfrey jarred the ash from his cigarette and
said with a faint smile: "You're one up on me, Benny.
Mrs. Gorell didn't care for me, while you're a sensible
young man. You must have charmed the old lady."
“Benny has a way about him, Carlos,” jibed Rogers,
his eyes twinkling. He returned to the diary again, glanc-
ing through the entries. “Just a repetition of what has
gone before,” he said after a few moments. "Dr. Gorell


248 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
continued to labor over his manuscript, worrying on the
side about something, while she confesses to being
frightened. Here's something-a bit dramatic-quoting:
‘At Indefatigable Island. Doctor is killed.'”.
Rogers glanced up. “Nothing recorded for next day,"
he said. “Then here's the final entry, quoting: 'At sea.
Ship heading for Panama and safety. It cannot be too
soon. I fear the Captain more and more. Dr. Ardleigh
called in afternoon. Dinner in my stateroom. Miss
Wilmer came in the evening.'
“I read that to you down in her stateroom, Benny,”
Rogers ended.
“I remember," I said.
Lanfrey crushed out the fire in his cigarette and
dropped it into the ash tray.
"And that's all there is to it?” he asked.
“Yes. I didn't read you every word. Some days I
skipped. But they were like the others, repetitions of
similar facts, as I remarked.”
“Let me see it.” Lanfrey reached across for the diary
which Rogers gave him. He took it and turned through
the pages for some minutes, his thick forefinger follow-
ing the closely written lines, his brows knitted. Finally
he shoved it back and reached for a fresh cigarette.
"Well," he said when it was alight, “I don't see that that
helps any at all. What do you think?"
"Not much in it,” I said. Rogers did not reply at once.
At length he opened his lips.
"I'm not sure that I agree with you two,” he said. “All
through those entries Mrs. Gorell refers to the Doctor
as laboring over a manuscript. In one place she refers to


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 249
it as his masterpiece. The word is a bit archaic for these
days, but it seems to me to indicate pretty clearly the
manner in which the two Gorells regarded it. It must
have been something important to them, at any rate-
Possibly to somebody else.”
“What about it, Hunt?" asked the Captain.
"We didn't find any such manuscript, did we, Benny?"
“No-o, we didn't," I answered, trying to recollect.
Lanfrey took the list we had made of the Gorells' be-
longings and ran his heavy finger down it.
“Not listed here,” he said.
“I'm quite sure there wasn't anything of the kind~"
"And once more what of it?" asked Lanfrey.
"I think we ought to try to find it. It might be im-
portant. In fact, I wonder," he paused, his eyes open-
ing wider. “By George!-it must be_".
"Must be what?" demanded Lanfrey.
“There's been a rumor around the University for
quite a while that Gorell was working on something
big,”
“What?”
“Nobody knows. He never let it out. But it must be
that he brought it with him on this voyage. It's just the
thing we require to throw considerable light on what has
happened on this ship,” He halted, looking first to Lan-
frey, then to me. No one spoke for a considerable time,
then Lanfrey broke silence.
"Go ahead then,” he said at last, "you and Benny take
what steps you think best to try and find it.”
We went down the ladder to the deck. A low flying
scud was blowing across the sky, with here and there


250 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
patches of blue. The sea, as we plowed onward towards
our destination, was dropping. The decks already were
dry and we walked easily along to the stern for a bit
of air before tackling the job ahead of us.
"What is the plan, Hunt?" I asked.
“The first thing I want to do is to make sure we didn't
overlook that manuscript Gorell was working on. If it
is to have any meaning at all we must prove that it is
missing from the place where it is most likely to be,
which is the stateroom. If it is there, then it loses its
significance entirely."
“I don't think we overlooked anything."
“No. Not in the usual places in which we looked. We
didn't examine any of the luggage for false bottoms.
We picked up folded articles like shirts and put them in
the trunks without unfolding. They might have had
folded with them the thing we want to find.”
"I get you," I said,
We entered the stateroom, closed the door and locked
ourselves in. We started the fan, for it was close inside.
“And you still think the thing's important, Hunt?" I
said, taking off my coat.
“Yes. Not only of itself, but for the purpose of solving
these crimes.”
We set to work. First we went over the room and ad-
joining bath minutely. The pictures on the walls were
taken down and their backs removed to make sure they
did not conceal the mythical manuscript. We went over
the carpet, ripping it up in one corner where we thought
our suspicions warranted. We moved the furniture
about, took all the drawers from the chiffonier and


252 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
Benny, we're on the track of something important. For
the first time"
“There's a motive there, Hunt-a new one."
“Yes, that's right. The manuscript had meaning and
importance for somebody else besides the Gorells-that
somebody was prepared to commit murder to get it.”
We stood in the center of the room looking at each
other. Finally I spoke.
"What do we do next, Hunt?"
He looked at his watch. “It's almost past the dinner
hour. Let's go get something to eat, then talk to Carlos
again."


3)
DINNER over we climbed the narrow inside companion-
way to the bridge. The Captain was busy writing, but
glancing up he called out to us.
“Come in,” he said, "what have you found?”
"Exactly nothing, Carlos,” said Rogers. “We didn't
discover anything of the manuscript Mrs. Gorell referred
to in her diary. Not in the stateroom anyhow.”
"Did you expect to?"
“No. Frankly I didn't. And the fact that it is missing
begins, I think, to assume importance. At least it needs
to be investigated. It may not explain anything, and
again it may unravel the whole bloody business.”
"I hope so," Lanfrey said, rubbing his forehead as if
wearied of it all. “I'll order a search for the thing,"
"No! Don't do that!” Rogers' voice rose in excitement.
“No, Carlos, that will never do. The minute that's
ordered,” he said in quieter, more confidential tones,
“what's easier than for the thief-perhaps murderer is
the word to use-to throw the thing overboard? And
then where are we? We're sunk.”
“I guess you're right at that, Hunt,” said Lanfrey
slowly. “That's out, then. We'll keep it quiet. We can do
this, though, can't we? When we get back to Indefati-
gable, say, we can get everybody ashore and search their
253


254 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
rooms while they are gone. For all we know Jay Cranston
might have picked the thing up when he was in there
foxing things up for Starr. He's got sense enough to
recognize values—that is, his kind of values, something
he can bleed somebody for on the promise of restoration.
That's only a thought.”
For some minutes we continued speculating upon
possibilities, realizing the dynamite in the situation,
sensitive to the manner in which it might blast the life
of an innocent victim. A thought occurred to me.
“Not meaning to change the subject too much, Cap-
tain," I began, "there's something that we ought to look
into, I think.”
“What's that, Benny?"
"Alice Wilmer.”
"What's she done?"
“It's what she said. This morning at the inquiry when
you were asking her about her conversation last night
with Mrs. Gorell.”
“What did she say? I missed it.”
“By George, Benny,” Rogers interrupted. “I remem-
ber thinking there was something that needed amplifica-
tion. But when Miss Wilmer said that Carlos was Mrs.
head. Something about the trouble between Dr. Gorell
and Quigley, wasn't it?"
“Yes."
Captain Lanfrey glanced at the watch on his wrist.
"It's not so very late. I don't suppose Miss Wilmer has
gone to bed yet. Let's have her up here and ask her some
questions."


258 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
thought Jack would do wonders in science, but they just
didn't get along together at all. The daughter and Jack,
I mean; and when they began to have trouble, Dr. Gorell
interfered and things couldn't be patched up. But be-
fore that finally came to a head, Jack had quit the Uni-
versity where he had a fellowship, or was an instructor,
or something, and had gone over to Hollywood."
"I see,” said Lanfrey. I felt disappointed there was so
little in what Alice had to relate.
“Mrs. Gorell,” Alice went on, "said that Jack Quigley
would have these brilliant ideas, but he didn't have the
patience it took to work them out scientifically. He had
one, she said, that Dr. Gorell was much interested in;
and they started to work it out together, and then they'd
hardly got started on it when Betty and Jack began to
squabble, and the family row started and Jack walked
out on Dr. Gorell_”
"I see,” said Lanfrey, his eyes narrowing. "What was
this idea they started to work out together?"
“I don't know. Mrs. Gorell wouldn't say. I asked her
what it was, but she evaded. She said it was too technical
for her to explain, and that it was dry as dust.”
“Then you don't know what it was?” Rogers pressed.
“No, I don't. I remember she said Dr. Gorell had very
high hopes of it. She said that he had told her once that
it would make him more famous than Charles Darwin
with his Origin of Species.”
“Mrs. Gorell said that, did she?” Rogers asked, leaning
forward.
“Yes."
We sat back a little in our chairs. Alice Wilmer's


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 259
twinkling blue eyes sought us each in turn as if inquir-
ing the significance of her words. Finally Captain Lan-
frey said:
“Thank you very much, Miss Wilmer, for coming up
here tonight.”
“I'm only too happy, Captain, if I can help."
“Thank you. And was there anything else Mrs. Gorell
told you?"
Alice thought a moment, slowly shaking her head.
“No, I think not, Captain."
“Miss Wilmer,” interrupted Rogers, “I think it ad-
visable that you say nothing about what Mrs. Gorell told
you, and which you have just repeated to us, to anybody
else. And please be very careful not to say anything
about having been up to the bridge tonight.”
"I'll not, Professor, if you think best."
“It is best."


ALICE WILMER and I walked along the deck towards the
stern. After the bright lights of the Captain's cabin, the
night seemed very dark. Neither of us spoke of where
we had been or of what had been said. We continued on
around the after deck and kept on walking.
“Shall we take a little exercise?” I asked.
“Yes, let's.”
Her hand slipped into mine, warm and soft and full
of life. Three times we circled the deck before we
brought up in a sheltered spot against the rail.
"Would you have come on this expedition if you had
known so many terrible things were going to happen?"
she asked.
“Certainly not. Nobody would have come. There
would have been no expedition. But why talk of it? I
hope the time will come when we can look back-or,
better still, shut it out of our minds altogether as a night-
mare best forgotten. I'll not even remind you of it when
I come some day and knock on your door in Hollywood
and ask if I may enter.”
“Will you come to see me when we get back?" she
asked eagerly.
“Do you want me to come?"
“Oh, very much. Benny-”
260


262 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
"It must be quite late,” she said, as if in protest at this
intrusion upon us.
"It is,” I answered. “And you are going to your state-
room now.”
“Can't we stay just a little longer, Benny?" she asked.
"No. Come,” I answered, taking her firmly by the
hand and leading her towards the after companionway.
I left her at her door. “Pleasant dreams,” I said.
“They will be wonderfully sweet dreams,” she replied,
and held up her lips for a parting kiss. “Good night,
dearest,” she said.
“Good night, Alice.”
I walked away intending to go to my own room, but
my feet kept on going and I climbed again to the deck.
I wasn't sleepy; I was suddenly plunged into the depths
of love. It was overwhelming; I, Benny Bartlett, whom
my sister Marjory had energetically sought to marry off
for several years, had fallen in love. After the first be-
wildering rush of emotion had subsided there was oc-
casion for long, long thoughts. Time meant nothing;
there was no such thing as time. And sleep did not exist.
For how long a while I stood leaning on the rail in
shadow I don't know. I was conscious that Ardleigh still
drifted like a ghost about the deck, tirelessly, doggedly,
as though burdened with some weighty problem which
would yield only to constant movement. I was perhaps
twenty feet removed from his orbit; my post was no
longer that which Alice and I had occupied earlier. I
am confident that Ardleigh was unaware of my presence
on deck; I believe he thought that I had gone below
and had not come back up again.


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 263
On a round which must be numberless he stopped at
the rail perhaps thirty feet forward of where I stood. For
a long time he seemed to be looking out over the black-
ness of the sea; he stood so still as almost to be invisible
in the uncertain light of a distant single electric bulb.
His long continued walking about the deck had aroused
my curiosity; his standing there now made me alert to
his presence. I thought once of calling out to him, but
some inner sense of caution refused to unlock my lips.
At length I made out that he was toying with some-
thing in his hands. Some object of fair bulk he had taken
from his pocket. For what seemed an age he held it. The
uncertain light was playing havoc with my eyes, for
straining as I did to see what he was up to, his figure
disappeared before my tortured sight, and reappeared
again. I looked away and rubbed my eyes and by so do-
ing almost missed the significant action that followed.
Suddenly I realized that he no longer held the object
in his hands; that he had leaned slightly forward as if
gazing down over the rail. Instinctively I leaned forward
trying to see what Ardleigh's eyes must be following.
There was only blackness below. For what seemed a long
moment I stood looking down, then of a sudden a white,
oblong object of fair bulk cut the rays of light shining
from a porthole below. For an instant it was plainly
visible, rotating slowly as it fell through the light from
the porthole; then it was gone. The immense blackness
embraced it.
A moment later I heard the sound of it as it struck
the water. Then all was silent. I looked up and Ardleigh
was noiselessly drifting up the deck. The amazing sig.


264 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
nificance of this act did not strike with its full force for
a matter of moments. What was it he had thrown over-
board? Why had he thrown it overboard? What was the
reason he had deliberated so long before throwing the
envelope away?
Acting on an impulse I darted from my concealment
and made up the deck after him. I don't know why I
didn't call out. Some grim purpose of overhauling Ard-
leigh and requiring him to tell me what he had done pos-
sessed me. Almost before I was aware of it the sound of
my feet on the deck startled him, and I observed that he
was running as if in fear of his life. I increased my pace
and when I reached the turn of the deck forward, I real-
ized I had lost him. Where he had gone I didn't know. I
went back carefully over the deck thinking he might
have dodged into a nook of some sort while I plunged
on past him. There were places he might have hidden,
but they were empty now. I had lost him. I might have
gone thundering on his stateroom door below demand-
ing an explanation. But the uproar would have roused
the whole ship and gained nothing, for what Ardleigh
had thrown away was beyond recovery.
I walked forward and climbed the ladder to the
bridge. Mr. Davis, the second mate, was in charge, a
quartermaster stood at the wheel. He and Davis were
staring into the black nothingness ahead. They turned
in surprise at my entrance.
“Hello, Mr. Bartlett,” said Davis. “You're up late,” he
remarked.
“A little," I answered. “Couldn't sleep. Like some of


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 265
mur-
the rest of them in this ship.”
"Somebody else walking around?”
"Oh-Ardleigh.” I thought for a moment I would tell
him what I had seen, but concluded I'd better not. “He
just went below. When will we raise the islands again?"
"About three o'clock tomorrow afternoon."
"Indefatigable?"
“Captain's orders."
“You probably have a lot of time to think, Mr. Davis,"
I said. “What's your solution of this thing—these mur-
ders, to put it quite frankly?"
He whistled softly and walked over to the starboard
corner of the bridge and back. Finally he spoke.
“It isn't anybody in the crew, Mr. Bartlett,” he said.
“I've satisfied myself on that. I've helped go over the
men with the Captain and Mr. Getty. And we haven't
been gentle. I said once to Captain Lanfrey, 'For God's
sake, sir, let's go a little easier or we'll have a mutiny on
our hands.' No, it's somewhere among the passengers
you'll have to look.”
"And among them?"
He shook his head. “I'm a sailor, Mr. Bartlett, not a
detective. If I had what I knew was an air-tight solution
I'd offer it. But not having it I can't afford to say any-
thing."
“Yes, . Storn's over, isn't it?” I asked, changing
the subject.
“Oh, yes. It will be clear at daylight. That storm was
pretty far south. It was only the tail end of one con-
siderably to the north of us, really.”


270 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
"You say you want to talk to him; that settles it.”
There were stirrings again in the room. I made an
extra effort and the giant hammer inside my skull beat
terrifically. Nevertheless I said:
“Ardleigh."
There was an instant silence in the room, although
there was no lessening of the din inside my head.
“Who was that?” somebody asked. “Was that Bartlett
who spoke?”
"I thought it was.”
Somebody approached and laid gentle hands upon my
face.
“Ardleigh,” I said again.
“What about Ardleigh, Benny?"
I had to think a moment.
"Did he hit you last night?"
The question confused me, the hammer beat harder
inside my skull. “Ardleigh,” I repeated.
“What about Ardleigh, Benny?" somebody asked
slowly and distinctly.
“Threw a letter overboard,” I replied.
There was quiet again, then after a long while some-
body said: “He may be a trifle delirious, Hunt. It doesn't
matter; he's coming around. Hasn't any fever; pulse is
good. I'll run along and change our course to Chatham.
There'll probably be time to hunt that fellow Knutsen
before dark tonight.”
“All right, Carlos. I'll stay here with Benny.”
“Yes; do that. Don't go away without locking him in.
Whoever hit him last night might want to finish the
job,”


272 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
long time. When I woke there was a feeling of unfa-
miliarity about things. The ship no longer rolled to the
great swells of the Pacific; if we moved at all we moved
in quiet waters. The portholes were full of late after-
noon sunlight when I opened my eyes. Standing over
me was the familiar figure of Huntoon Rogers. He
rubbed the side of his nose thoughtfully.
“Feeling better, old man?” he inquired.
“Much better," I replied, and to my relief the ham-
mer inside my skull was silent.
"You had a close shave last night,” he remarked casu-
ally.
"I guess I did at that.”
“Any idea who attacked you?"
"No."
“Earlier today you talked a little, probably while you
were delirious,"
“I wasn't delirious," I protested. “I just couldn't seem
to talk. I was trying to tell you what happened last
night.”
“Listen, Benny. I'm not sure it's wise for you to talk
any now."
“I'm all right," I insisted. “I was trying to tell you
about Ardleigh.”
“What about Ardleigh?”
“He threw a bulky envelope overboard last night. I
saw it when it fell through the light from a porthole. I
heard it hit the sea. A sealed envelope, it was. It was
turning over slowly as it fell and I saw it. Ardleigh ran
away when I started after him. Up the deck. He didn't
know I had been standing there in the shadow near him.”


274 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
I asked Carlos to change our course from Indefatigable
to Chatham,”
"Crab or no crab, Hunt, we can't go on much longer
this way. I don't want another crack on the head,"
"Nor I, nor anybody else. But-I'm not an optimist.
About Knutsen. It's just a chance. If Gorell was mur-
dered we have nothing to prove it by. What chance is
of the killer? For that's probably how Gorell died. Knut-
sen knows nothing of the other two crimes; he wasn't
even on board when they were committed. So the chance
is pretty slim-"
"Do you think it could have been Ardleigh?” I asked.
"It might be. He's always told a straight story; never
seems to have been the likely one. And yet this envelope
business, Benny, is bad. Probably that was the manu-
script we were hunting. He might have felt we were get-
ting too hot on the trail and threw it overboard. If the
Captain would put the old man to the third degree it
might save us a long chase after Knutsen. I'll tell him.
Well,” the sound of the door interrupted him. “Here
she is—I've been waiting for Miss Wilmer. She promised
to sit with you while we are ashore. So long, Benny."
The door closed behind him. I was conscious of an-
other presence in the room.
“Benny?” said a soft voice. “Are you all right, dear?"
“Yes, dearest," I answered, and the next instant her
arms settled down about my neck and her lips touched
mine.


282 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
tinued to sit with long arms folded across his chest. In
the lengthening silence we came slowly to the realiza-
tion that Lanfrey's eyes were fixed upon Ardleigh.
"What was in that envelope, Dr. Ardleigh?" asked the
Captain at last.
“'I do not know,” the old geologist answered, drawling
slightly in his class room manner, returning the Cap-
tain's steady gaze.
“How did you come to throw it overboard?"
"I was requested to do so."
"Who asked you to do it?"
“Mrs. Gorell.”
For a long, silent moment we stared at Ardleigh, then
Captain Lanfrey spoke up rather sharply.
"Let's have more of it. Why did she give it to you?
What was it? Why did she want it destroyed?"
Ardleigh studied the multiple question the Captain
had shot at him. He wet his lips and suddenly was gal-
vanized into life.
"I'll tell you. The whole amazing thing. I came to
suspect what was in that envelope. I struggled with my-
self before I at length carried out Mrs. Gorell's wishes.
I told you at the inquiry yesterday morning that I had
stopped in to sit with Mrs. Gorell awhile the afternoon
before. Gorell and I weren't friendly, but I could do
no more than the decent thing and try to console his
widow. During the conversation she took a sealed en-
velope from her handbag and gave it to me. She said:
‘Dr. Ardleigh, I want you to do something for me. I
want you to care for this until we reach Panama. Tell
nobody that you have it. When we reach Panama give it


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 283
back to me. In case I never reach there alive you have
my strict orders to destroy it unopened. You must swear
to do it. You are the only man I can really trust on this
ship. Because you and my husband were not friendly no
one will suspect that I have entrusted you with this.'"
Ardleigh's voice halted for a moment. He unwound
the leg he had twisted about his chair, looked casually
around the room and went on.
"It was a tremendous struggle. That's why Bartlett
saw me pacing the deck last night. I could not decide.
Gorell was a genius. I'll give him his due. At heart he
was a scientist, although at times that ill temper of his
obscured the fact. What may have appeared to others
as desire for personal aggrandizement, was, I'm sure, only
an extraordinary precaution that he be right before he
published his findings. He was like a vicious dog guard-
ing what was his until he could give it to the world.
"I say, I want to be fair to Gorell. I realize I have done
him a great wrong. I'm certain now that his wife should
never have required me to destroy her husband's work.
I blame her primarily, and then myself. The ethics of
the scientific world never meant anything to Clara
Gorell, she lived in a selfish little universe of her own.
But one's oath, you know I give you my word that when
she swore me to destroy the envelope I did not suspect
the nature of its contents. I am confident, however, now
that Gorell's life work is lost, that in that envelope was
revealed the mechanism of adaptive changes. I am sure
that was what he was working on.
“As I say, the struggle was tremendous. I'd been fight-
ing the problem for hours. At last overcome by both


284 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
physical and mental fatigue, I weakened-” He ceased
abruptly and turned to me.
"You startled me, Bartlett,” he said matter-of-factly,
"last night when I heard your footsteps running after
me. I thought I was alone. I did not know who was fol-
lowing me. I dodged into the door of the lounge. That's
why you missed me.”
Ardleigh was through; he wet his hard lips and con-
tinued to gaze at Lanfrey.
"Thank you, Doctor," said the Captain at length,
"You didn't by any chance attack Bartlett, did you?"
“Mercy, no!” said Ardleigh, his gray-green eyes fixed
on Lanfrey. "I went to bed after that. I was worn out,
exhausted.”
Captain Lanfrey reached for a smoke. There was a
general shifting about, a striking of lights and igniting
of fresh cigarettes. When we had settled again, Lanfrey
crossed his legs and inhaled deeply.
“That sort of explains that,” he said casually, “but I
want to go back to the death of Dr. Gorell on Indefati-
gable. You were on shore that day, Ardleigh, weren't
you?”
"I don't deny it.”
"You were seen coming in at lunch time from the
general direction in which Dr. Gorell's body was found.”
"I may have done so," answered the geologist, his
voice taking on a tone of resentment, his eyes beginning
to smolder dangerously.
"Well, now," began Lanfrey.
“Now, don't you accuse me of Gorell's murder," Ard-
leigh burst out heatedly, leveling a long finger at the


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 285
Captain. "I've admitted I was not friendly with him, but
my unfriendliness didn't extend to murder-"
"Well-" Lanfrey looked about the circle as if he were
stumped.
At this moment there was a slight commotion at the
door of the lounge. The eyes of the group followed those
of Captain Lanfrey and we saw the melancholy counte-
nance of the Governor of the islands and behind him the
tall, sunburned figure of Knutsen, the castaway. Lanfrey
sprang from his chair and went to greet them.
"Thank you, Governor, thank you," he began.
"It is a pleasure, Captain Lanfrey,” replied the Gov-
ernor in his slow English. “I told you if Chris Knutsen
was on the island I would bring him to you.” He fin-
ished with a gesture as if offering the Norwegian to us
as some sort of sacrifice.
“Thank you. It is only a question or two we want to
ask him. We were sitting here," Lanfrey explained, “dis-
cussing some phases of our troubles, Governor; hoping
we might solve the mystery of the several crimes that
have cursed this ship. I don't know what Knutsen may
know. His answers when we come to question him may
mean much; on the other hand, they may be worthless.
But I am eternally grateful to you, Governor, for trou-
bling to bring him to us—”.
"It is a pleasure, Captain Lanfrey," the Governor
bowed.
“Sit down, won't you?” and Lanfrey pointed the two
of them to chairs.
In the ensuing moments of settling, Rogers came to
me, leaned down and whispered in my ear so faintly


286 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
that I could scarcely hear him. "What if Ardleigh is the
murderer?” he breathed. “That envelope he threw over-
board could have been a fake, and he could have kept
the real one."
Rogers went back to his chair and I nodded my head
to him. It was a startling thought he had shared with
me. Had Dr. Ardleigh been the dark character through
all this amazing story? I began to feel uncomfortable
thinking of the possibilities of it when suddenly Lan-
frey's voice cut across my speculations.
"Hunt,” he said casually, “I'd like you to sum things
up a bit, so that the Governor will know just where we
are."
"All right, Carlos,” replied Rogers, sinking into the
depths of his chair and putting his elbows on the arms
and bringing his finger tips, lightly touching, before his
eyes. “I'll do it as briefly as I can. First, we lost John
Quigley, our photographer, overboard,” he began. “It
looked for several days as if it were an accident, then
we reached the conclusion that it could have been noth-
ing less than murder. Dr. Gorell died on Indefatigable
Island. Again it looked like an accident, although we
are forced now to conclude that it was murder also.
Then Mrs. Gorell was killed most brutally in her cabin
in the night, while we were bound for Panama.
“Now, here is a peculiar thing," Rogers went on. “Dr.
and Mrs. Gorell were man and wife; John Quigley was
their son-in-law. Some little time ago John Quigley was
a research fellow at the University. He and Dr. Gorell
were working on a problem. They had a quarrel and
separated. Dr. Gorell went ahead with what he evidently
man
as


THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB 291
after it was disclosed that Quigley was on deck as late
as three o'clock in the morning, the opportunity remains
and the motive is just as strong.
"About the time Gorell died on Indefatigable, Starr
was walking alone on the island. Cranston accused Starr
of having been in the vicinity where Gorell's body was
found, and Starr was unable to deny it. Again the op-
portunity, but the motive is not the same. If Starr were
guilty of Gorell's death, the motive would have to be
that of the multiple slayer-murder to conceal murder-
the assumption being that Starr feared Gorell had seen
him throwing Quigley overboard and so was forced to
kill him. But here a weakness develops. Gorell would
have no reason to withhold information if he had wit-
nessed Quigley's death, although a suspicion that Gorell
had seen him kill Quigley might very well have tor-
mented Starr's mind until he murdered Gorell.
“But there's no reasonable motive whatever to link
Starr with Mrs. Gorell's murder. It doesn't make sense.
Starr's jacket on the bed was only a crude effort by some-
one else to connect him with the crime. And so Starr was
discarded as the possible slayer of Quigley and Gorell.”
"How about Gorell as the murderer of Quigley?"
Lanfrey asked.
"There was excellent reason to suspect him, Carlos,”
Rogers replied. “He had threatened his son-in-law. He
had ample opportunity, as for that matter did everybody
else on the yacht. Back home where police function, he
probably would have been held on suspicion of murder.
Even after his own death, if it were accident, he could
still be believed guilty of Quigley's murder. But when


294 THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
he admitted it. No one else even pretended to have one.
Besides that, I had had a hunch for some time that
Knutsen held the key to the solution. But French has
written the story all out. His account coincides in most
instances with my reasoning, if reasoning can be said to
occur in the brief time it took me to switch from Ard-
leigh to French; I saw the whole thing dovetailing. I
understood the reason for the long time French had
spent floating in the skiff, But I'll read you his con-
fession."
Rogers reached for the typed sheets on Lanfrey's desk,
settled his glasses upon his nose and began to read. It
was a strange document. Its terrible callousness chilled
my blood as Rogers' voice took up French's story.
“ 'I'm not a scientist,'" the confession began, “ 'The
progress of science has never meant anything to me.
What I could get personally in the way of fame and
money is all that I've worked for. To use a phrase Gorell
once applied to me, I am a "self-centered man run amok
in the principles of scientific detachment.”
“‘Gorell first suggested the problem to me, and to-
gether we projected the line of research. I started to
work, then one day when I had irritated him-always an
easy thing to do-Gorell took the whole thing away from
me as he said, in the interest of discipline. Gorell was
head of the department. He could do that. But he
couldn't discipline a sense of scientific detachment into
me. I never had it to begin with. He never let me in on
the problem again, although I asked him repeatedly.
Instead, he brought Quigley into the problem. Quigley
suggested a different approach, I learned, and the two


296
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB
"'Mrs. Gorell was easy, too. With a pair of thin, long-
nosed pliers, now at the bottom of the sea, I turned the
key in her lock while a clap of thunder was still rolling.
She was asleep. I killed her with Bartlett's scalpel I had
taken from the laboratory. After I had killed her, I
couldn't find Gorell's Ms. I already had made a brief
search of the stateroom several days before I killed
Gorell. I slipped away from the dinner table one night
to do that. I was over-anxious. I realized, of course, that
I was endangering my whole plan. I came up on deck,
carrying what I hoped was Gorell's Ms. But it proved
to be only some supplementary pages of bibliography
and not the completed paper I was after. I was eager to
see what I had got and stopped in the first lighted shelter
I found. Bartlett surprised me, but I am sure he did not
suspect anything then. I carried it off well. I reasoned
that in time, of course, he would realize what it was I
was reading. And so I marked him for death. That night
when the opportunity came, he jumped just as I struck
at him and spoiled my aim. The watch heard the sound,
and there was no time to finish him.
“'Lies are easy things to tell-necessary to murder. I
was in no danger of discovery. An assumption of inno-
cence on my part, a laudable interest in the apprehen-
sion of the slayer, a theory of how Quigley might have
met his death put forward one night and pressed upon
Bartlett who, I was sure, would take it to Lanfrey, and
again the insistence to Bartlett that I believed Gorell
died by accident, helped fortify the general belief that
I could not be guilty. I attempted to pre-allay suspicion
the day Gorell died, by joking about his appetite. I began



WARNING!
Do not cut these pages until you have finished
THE AFFAIR OF THE SCARLET CRAB. See foot-
note on first page.
Within is to be found an index of clues to the mur-
derer. There are twenty of them in all, some are
psychological-deductive, some are concrete-in-
ductive.
5 are given before page 100.
7 occur between pages 100 and 155.
7 more occur before page 225.
Before cutting the pages, list as many as you can
detect.
DICTIVE



INDEX OF CLUES
g French is described as "a sort of enigma and "a
man of extraordinary ambitions. Also French and
Gorell are identified as scientists in the same depart.
ment at the University. Gorell being head of the de.
partment
41 "Dr. Gorell is writing something."
41 "I knocked on French's door and he snarled at me."
gi French is seen reading "a sheal of thin paper" which
he folds up casually and put into his pockel
ge- French advances a theory to explain the death of
95 Quigley and presses it upon Bartlett, thereby identify
ing himsell with those trying to solve the mystery of
Quigley's disappearance.
126 French refers contemptuously to "old Gorell." and pre
tends a hary knowledge that Quigley was Gorell's son-
in-law. a fact he might be presumed to know well, since
he and Gorellate co-workers at the University. He
displays an interest when Mrs. Lanfrey is said to have
known Quigley was married to Gorell's daughter
138 French gave Knutsen some badly needed clothing, "lor
the two were almost of a size."
148 jokingly refers to Gorell's appetite when the old man
doesn't show up for lunch, a subtle ellort to allay sus
picion over what is to follow
145 French starts the shouting for the missing man.
149 Rogers says that French and Gorell "were working to
gether some years ago on shells, but they didn't get
along








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