The Man in the Brown Suit

Seventeen
(Extract from the diary of Sir Eustace Pedler)
Mount Nelson Hotel, Cape Town.
It is really the greatest relief to get off the Kilmorden. The whole time that I was onboard
I was conscious of being surrounded by a network of intrigue. To put the lid on
everything, Guy Pagett must needs engage in a drunken brawl the last night. It is all very
well to explain it away, but that is what it actually amounts to. What else would you think
if a man comes to you with a lump the size of an egg on the side of his head and an eye
coloured all the tints of the rainbow?
Of course Pagett would insist on trying to be mysterious about the whole thing.
According to him, you would think his black eye was the direct result of his devotion to
my interests. His story was extraordinarily vague and rambling and it was a long time
before I could make head or tail of it.
To begin with, it appears he caught sight of a man behaving suspiciously. Those are
Pagett’s words. He has taken them straight from the pages of a German spy story. What
he means by a man behaving suspiciously he doesn’t know himself. I said so to him.
“He was slinking along in a very furtive manner, and it was the middle of the night, Sir
Eustace.”
“Well, what were you doing yourself? Why weren’t you in bed and asleep like a good
Christian?” I demanded irritably.
“I had been coding those cables of yours, Sir Eustace, and typing the diary up to
date.”
Trust Pagett to be always in the right and a martyr over it!
“Well?”
“I just thought I would have a look round before turning in, Sir Eustace. The man was
coming down the passage from your cabin. I thought at once there was something wrong
by the way he looked about him. He slunk up the stairs by the saloon. I followed him.
“My dear Pagett,” I said, “why shouldn’t the poor chap go on deck without having his
footsteps dogged? Lots of people even sleep on deck—very uncomfortable, I’ve always
thought. The sailors wash you down with the rest of the deck at five in the morning.” I
shuddered at the idea.
“Anyway,” I continued, “if you went worrying some poor devil who was suffering from
insomnia, I don’t wonder he landed you one.”

---

Pagett looked patient.
“If you would hear me out, Sir Eustace. I was convinced the man had been prowling
about near your cabin where he had no business to be. The only two cabins down that
passage are yours and Colonel Race’s.”
“Race,” I said, lighting a cigar carefully, “can look after himself without your
assistance, Pagett.” I added as an afterthought: “So can I.”
Pagett came nearer and breathed heavily as he always does before imparting a secret.
“You see, Sir Eustace, I fancied—and now indeed I am sure—it was Rayburn.”
“Rayburn?”
“Yes, Sir Eustace.”
I shook my head.
“Rayburn has far too much sense to attempt to wake me up in the middle of the night.”
“Quite so, Sir Eustace. I think it was Colonel Race he went to see. A secret meeting—
for orders!”
“Don’t hiss at me, Pagett,” I said, drawing back a little, “and do control your
breathing. Your idea is absurd. Why should they want to have a secret meeting in the
middle of the night? If they’d anything to say to each other, they could hobnob over beef
tea in a perfectly casual and natural manner.”
I could see that Pagett was not in the least convinced.
“Something
 was going on last night, Sir Eustace,” he urged, “or why should Rayburn