Carlson walked down the Grand Staircase to C-Deck, having remembered his favor to do for Daisy. This time, however, Smethells was standing at the corner of the stairs. Carlson thought it odd, but he had a job to do. Carlson once more entered the Pursers office and knocked on the sliding door.
As before, it shot up to reveal the purser.
"Yes, can I help you?" asked the purser in his usual tone.
"I require assistance." said Carlson.
"As purser I arrange dinner reservations, rent deck chairs, the usual shipboard duties" the purser replied.
Carlson knew that already. "May I check the passenger list?" he asked.
"Have you a name?" asked the purser. "If you do I can tell you their cabin number."
"A passenger with the initials G. Q. C.?" Carlson queried.
"Let me check." the purser replied. He then proceeded to get out a large notebook and thumb through it. Finally he said "A-ha! Mr. George Quincy Clifford, Cabin A-27."
'Thanks for your help. Goodnight." said Carlson.
"That's all then is it? Goodnight." the purser responded as Carlson left the room.
Carlson wasted no time in getting to the B-Deck landing of the Aft Grand Staircase. He was surprised to see Daisy still waiting there.
"Did you get it? Get his name?" Daisy asked gleefully as Carlson approached her.
"Yes. It's George Quincy Clifford." Carlson responded.
"Clifford, Clifford..." Daisy replied, mulling the name over. "Never heard of him. You don't suppose he's rich, do you?" she asked excitedly.
"Could be fithy..." said Carlson, hoping to at least sound interested.
"You're an angel!" she exclaimed. "And I have news for you too. While you were gone, Andrew Conkling's been asking for you. Yes! Conkling! The steel baron. God knows what he's been doing in Europe, buying it probably. And... where was I? Oh, yes! Andrew Conkling asked me to pass along this."
Daisy held out a small note card which read: "A matter of extreme urgency requires your attention. Meet me in the Scotland Road. A.C."
Meanwhile, Daisy gushed "You know his wife Beatrix, the designer? Such an eye! Her clothes preserve the bust-line. Couldn't be more flattering. Keeps the eye moving. Much nicer than Worth's."
As Carlson handed the note card back to her, she continued on: "They're friends with Captain Smith. Smith! So handsome, so dashing! White star's best officer, or was. He's retiring after this voyage, couldn't be more tragic. My dear, you've blanched, bad news."
Carlson had once again had quite enough of Daisy's tangents. "Goodnight" he told her.
Daisy replied: "Certainly, certainly, I must... It's Mrs. Borebank! Consuelo!" And with that, she walked away.
All of a sudden, Carlson noticed Smethells standing next to him.
"Still wandering?" Smethells asked. "This ship holds a strange fascination for you. Most peculiar."
There was no way Smethells could understand what Carlson was going through that night. But, Carlson thought, he should be concerned for the passengers he served.
"I have a message from a young German gentleman." continued Smethells. "By the name of Haderlitz."
"Willi!" thought Carlson.
Smethells continued: "He would like to meet you in the Squash Court. They've opened it for him. Highly irregular I must say. Especially for fencing."
Carlson was curious. "The German gentleman, is he alone?" he asked.
"Surely he is." Smethells replied. "The percentage of passengers demanding the courts late on a Sunday night is small. Miniscule actually."
Carlson had no such time for fencing, he had someone to meet. However, he decided to ask one more question. "How do I get to the squash court from here?"
Smethells replied, "If memory serves me, there is an entrance to the squash courts on D-Deck."
"Thank you" said Carlson.
"Meanwhile, I shall inform the young German gentleman that you will meet him presently." With that, Smethells walked away, down the staircase.
Carlson wasted no time in making his way to the Second Class Staircase. He walked down several flights of stairs to E-Deck, where the entrance to the Scotland Road was located. He entered Scotland Road through the double doors and began walking down the hallway. He eventually saw a man in a rather expensive suit standing just down the hallway. He looked quite American. "That must be Conkling" thought Carlson to himself. He'd remembered that Sasha had mentioned Conkling earlier that evening. He had mentioned that Charles owed him thousands of pounds. Carlson wondered why.
"Hello. I'm Conkling" said the man as Carlson approached him.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Carlson." he said as they shook hands.
"Good of you to come." Conkling continued. "I trust you're finding the accommodations satisfactory?"
Carlson nodded. "Why do you want to meet here?" he asked. He thought it odd to meet in such a remote place of the ship.
"Sorry to seem mysterious" Conkling answered. "You must understand that someone in my position, an investor in this ship, needs discretion."
"Why's that?" Carlson asked.
'You're under no obligation of course." Conkling replied. "I have a slight problem. You may be able to help. A servant has stolen an important business document from me and I must recover it."
Conkling explained: "A few years ago, my wife, Beatrix, hired a young Irish girl as a maid in our London house. We treated her well. Two weeks ago, she up and left without notice, taking a certain letter with her. I'd given up all hope of recovering it, until my wife spotted her this morning on the Third Class Promenade! Needless to say I checked with the purser. She'd been scheduled to sail on the Philadelphia. But those passengers were transferred on board the Titanic because of a coal strike."
Carlson knew about that. That was why there were so many passengers in steerage. "Why ask me to do this?" he asked.
"Government officials, friends of mine, told me a bureau agent was on board. I found you through Miss Cashmore, a preposterous woman, but she does have an eye for accomplishment. "
"An eye for accomplishment. Pah!" thought Carlson to himself.
Conkling continued. "Look, will you help me? You will be rewarded handsomely."
Carlson didn't know if he could trust him, but Conkling sounded quite desperate. "I need more information." he he said.
"Her name is Shailagh Hacker." Conkling replied. "She's 20 or thereabouts. I was her benefactor, one might say."
"Just her benefactor?" Carlson inquired.
"Umm, yes." Conkling answered. "This puts me in a difficult situation. This young woman, she could cause considerable damage to me, to my reputation if she goes to the papers.
"What's in the letter?" Carlson asked.
"Confidential business matters." Conkling replied. "Conkling Steel provides steel for ships. This ship, for example. If the contents of the letter were publicized, our competitors would profit greatly."
"Where's the woman now?" Carlson asked.
"I've gotten word to meet her on the Poop Deck." answered Conkling. "Go in my place. Tell her there'll be no trouble if she returns the letter. Afterwards, report to me in our suite B-59. Her name is Shailagh Hacker. Goodnight." With that Conkling headed back down the corridor.
Fortunately for Carlson, the Poop Deck was only a few flights of stairs above him. As he made his way there, he couldn't help but think that there was more to the situation than he thought. Still, he had a favor to do.
After some walking, he eventually arrived at the Poop Deck. He saw a steerage couple standing at the back railing. He calmly approached them.
The man looked toward him and told the woman in a thick Irish accent: "What did I tell you Shai? I knew he'd not come in person."
"Hush Jack hush!" Shailagh told the man in an equally thick Irish accent. "Conkling, he did send you, didn't he?" she asked Carlson.
"Conkling told me to meet the lady" Carlson replied.
"I told you! It's a trick!" exclaimed Jack. "I knew Conkling wouldn't come. He sent one of his cronies instead."
Carlson felt very offended but decided to get to the point. "Are you Miss Hacker's friend?" he asked Jack.
"I'm her brother." he responded. "And Conkling! Because of him Shailagh's had to leave everything and everyone she knows."
"Jack don't!" Shailagh cried, like Jack was giving too much information.
"That son of a bitch." Jack continued. "She was his maid, all the time violating her."
"Hush Jack! I'll have no more of it!" Shailagh cried, seemingly having had enough. "Go on Jack, say it!"
"You tell Conkling we have his letter, and he'll not be seein' it until he coughs up a tidy sum too." Jack said emphatically.
"How much money for the letter?" Carlson asked.
"Five thousand do you hear? Dollars! Enough to get her started right in America." Jack answered. "And if he moves his hand against us I'll make sure the newspapers get it and print it. So tell Conkling. Five thousand. Measured against what he has it's a bloody bargain."
"I must go" said Carlson, looking to leave.
"Meet us hear again at one tonight." Shailagh implored.
"Five thousand dollars then he'll get his damn letter, agreed?" Jack asked.
"Agreed" replied Carlson.
"We'll be waiting for you" said Shailagh.
Carlson left the Poop Deck not sure who to believe, Conkling or Shailagh. It seemed to be a complex situation indeed. Eventually he found his way back to the B-Deck cabins. He looked for the cabin with the door marked B-59. He found it and knocked on the door.
"Come in!" exclaimed Conkling's voice from inside.
Carlson entered and found himself in a room much like Georgia's cabin, which he expected. Conkling walked up to him.
"I'd hoped to meet you earlier." Conkling began. "However, me and my wife were calling on the Astors. Madeline's pregnant. Beatrix was thrilled! We have no children."
It was then that Carlson recalled Jack saying that Conkling had repeatedly violated Shailagh. Could that be why? "Jack wants $5,000 for the letter" he told Conkling.
Conkling flinched. "I see, it's a ransom!"
At that moment Carlson heard the door to the cabin opening behind him.
"May I present Mrs. Conkling?" Conkling announced.
Mrs Conkling walked in, wearing a fur lined suit jacket and a wide hat decorated with feathers.
She took a smoke from her cigarette. "You should pitch the ungrateful girl overboard."
"Charmed..." replied Carlson not knowing what else to say.
"Your clothes, french cut. Quite fetching." she said, looking Carlson over. "Delighted to meet you."
"Beatrix is on her way to California." Conkling informed. "She's got a new project in... where is it dear?"
Mrs. Conkling took another smoke. "A cowtown, some place called Los Angeles." she answered. "I'm doing up a little resort there, its called the Beverly Hills Hotel." She then changed the subject. "So, where is the Irish tart? Dreaming of her new found riches?"
"We were just talking about that, darling" Conkling answered her.
"My husband and myself extended every courtesy" Beatrix told Carlson. "Showed every kindness to Shailagh. We've no children. Shailagh became quite dear to us. So her theft hurt us all the more for the trust we placed in her. Don't fail us!" She started for the bed. "Now excuse me" she said. "I must retire. I have a frightful headache."
"...maybe if you took off that hat." said Carlson, soon regretting having said that.
"It was a pleasure" replied Beatrix, seemingly having not heard him. "Good night. Andrew?"
Conkling turned to Carlson. "My wife felt strongly about Shailagh" he began. "As I've told you, we've no children of our own. Look, you must get that letter. Don't wait until tomorrow. See if you can speak to Shailagh directly, without her brother. She's in the Third Class Cabins Forward. On F-Deck, number 59." Conkling then led him to the door. "Goodnight. I'll speak to you tomorrow."
Carlson exited the cabin and made his way toward the Third Class cabins. All the while, two phrases kept playing in his head: "We've no children of our own" "All the time violating her". He felt sorry now not only for Georgia but also for Shailagh. Conkling had been having an affair with her!
Eventually he arrived at the Third Class Cabins. Shalaigh's cabin happened to be the one at the end of the hallway. He knocked on the door.
"Jack, is that you?" he heard Shailagh ask from inside. "I'll be right out!" she telled as Carlson heard footsteps walking toward the door. The door swung open and out came Shailagh. "I don't want to wake the baby." she said as closed the door.
"Baby?" thought Carlson.
Shailagh then noticed that it wasn't Jack, but Carlson who was at the door. "Oh!" she gasped.
"I need to speak with you" Carlson told her.
"But we were meeting later!" Shailagh responded. "Where's Jack?"
"I don't know where he is." Carlson replied. "But there's something more important that I need to know. I want to know about Conkling's letter."
"Please! I don't want no trouble!" she pleaded. "I didn't know the letter was so dear. I just wanted to take something, anything that looked valuable. For the baby! It was Jack who read it. Saw it was bad for Mr. Conkling. He said the bit about selling bad steel would ruin him if it was to get out in the papers."
Carlson now understood the situation, but he had another pressing matter to ask about. "Tell me about the baby." he requested.
"My baby, Eddy" replied Shailagh. "He's the only reason I stood the last month at the Conklings. I knew Mr. Conkling weren't gonna leave his missis. I was only a parlor maid, but I didn't care. I was happy to have his baby."
Carlson was inwardly shocked. Not only had Conkling violated her repeatedly, he was the father of her child! Conkling had had an affair with her!
Shailagh continued: "Him and Mrs. Conkling, I thought they were so kind. Until I found out."
"Find out about what?" asked Carlson.
"That Mrs. Conkling... Mrs. Conkling was going to steal my baby for her own!" Shailagh replied, almost losing composure. "Once I had it she would fire me, and take Eddy for herself! She can't have her own babies. So she... So they... they used me to get one! To get Eddy! When I found out that was her plan I left. I didn't know the letter was anything, I thought it might hold a pound or two."
At this point Carlson really did feel sorry for Shailagh. She had been through as much as Georgia had. He then asked her the next logical question. "Tell me about the steel."
"Anyway, Jack, he says Mr. Conkling got the letter from an engineer up at the mill." she replied.
"What did it say?" Carlson asked.
"Said the mill's been making bad steel!" Shailagh began. "High in sulfur's what he called it. The Steel's no good! And they put it in the Titanic! It'd be a scandal if it got out. That's why Mr. Conkling wants the letter back. But Jack, he says Conkling will have to pay us to get it. Five thousand dollars! Ha! Mrs. Conkling's probably behind it. All she cares about his a fine name and pots o'cash! And a baby. But she won't get Eddy, no she won't! And if she tries, I'll ruin her! Make her poor as me!"
Carlson felt he'd heard enough. "Good night" he told her.
A baby started crying inside the cabin. "Oh! That's Eddy! Bye! Don't forget about our meeting!" said Shailagh as she went back to her cabin.
Carlson could not believe it. How could the Conklings be so kind and yet so cruel? That only added to what he was already dealing with that night. He decided to try to talk with Charles to get some honest information from him. Carlson left the cabin area and headed for the Smoking Room.
TO BE CONTINUED
COMING NEXT: These... Will Surprise You