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the Dungannon estate, let him down at the last minute? Was he about to suffer the silence of failure?

Sixty seconds …

He began to whisper each number

“Fifty-nine, fifty-eight, fifty-seven, fifty-six…”

Had the drunkenfor him all the time? Were they now on the way to his cabin?

“Forty-nine, forty-eight, forty-seven, forty-six…”

Had the lilies been replaced, thrown out, taken away? Perhaps Mrs Clifton was allergic to pollen?

“Thirty-nine, thirty-eight, thirty-seven, thirty-six…”

Had they unlocked his lordship’s room and found the open trunk?

“Twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven, twenty-six…”

Were they already searching the ship for the e?

“Nineteen, eighteen, seventeen, sixteen…”

Had they … he clung to the edge of the bunk, closed his eyes, and began counting out loud

“Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one…”

He stopped counting and opened his eyes Nothing Just the eerie silence that always follows failure He bowed his head and prayed to a God he did not believe in, and immediately there followed an explosion of such ferocity that he was thrown against the cabin wall like a leaf in a storered to his feet and s He could only wonder how ers on the upper deck could possibly have survived