The Girl on the Boat - Penn State University

Into the glare of the headlights there stepped a strange
figure, strange, that is to say, in these tame modern
times. In the Middle Ages he would have excited no
comment at all. Passers by would simply have said to
themselves, “Ah, another of those knights off after the
dragons!” and would have gone on their way with a
civil greeting. But in the present age it is always somewhat
startling to see a helmeted head pop up in front
of your motor car. At any rate, it startled Bream. I will
go further. It gave Bream the shock of a lifetime. He
had had shocks already that night, but none to be compared
with this. Or perhaps it was that this shock, coming
on top of those shocks, affected him more disastrously
than it would have done if it had been the first
of the series instead of the last. One may express the
thing briefly by saying that, as far as Bream was concerned,
Sam’s unconventional appearance put the lid
on it. He did not hesitate. He did not pause to make
comments or ask questions. With a single cat-like
screech which took years off the lives of the abruptly
wakened birds roosting in the neighbouring trees, he
<strong>The</strong> <strong>Girl</strong> on the Boat
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dashed away towards the house and, reaching his room,
locked the door and pushed the bed, the chest of drawers,
two chairs, the towel stand, and three pairs of boots
against it.
Out on the drive Billie was staring at the man in
armour who had now, with a masterful wrench which
informed the car right away that he would stand no
nonsense, set the engine going again.
“Why—why,” she stammered, “why are you wearing
that thing on your head?”
“Because I can’t get it off.”
Hollow as the voice was, Billie recognised it.
“S—Mr. Marlowe!” she exclaimed.
“Get in,” said Sam. He had seated himself at the steering
wheel. “Where can I take you?”
“Go away!” said Billie.
“Get in!”
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
“I want to talk to you! Get in!”
“I won’t.”
Sam bent over the side of the car, put his hands un-