The steamer Mongolia, owned by the Peninsular and Oriental Company, was expected to arrive at Suez at eleven o’clock on Wednesday, October 9.
It was a large iron ship, weighing about 2,800 tons and powered by 500 horsepower. It regularly sailed between Brindisi and Bombay through the Suez Canal and was one of the company’s fastest ships.
At Suez, two men were walking up and down the busy quay.
One was the British consul. The other was a small, thin man with a nervous face and sharp, restless eyes. He kept twitching his eyebrows and could hardly stand still.
His name was Fix.
Fix was a detective from England. He had been sent to Suez to catch the bank robber who had stolen fifty-five thousand pounds from the Bank of England.
Two days earlier, Scotland Yard had sent him a detailed description of the suspect. His job was simple: watch every passenger arriving at Suez and arrest anyone who matched the description.
Fix was convinced that the robber would arrive on the Mongolia. He was also thinking about the large reward waiting for him if he caught the thief.
“So, Consul,” Fix asked for what seemed like the twentieth time, “you’re absolutely certain that the Mongolia is never late?”
“Quite certain, Mr. Fix,” the consul replied. “She was already ahead of schedule when she left Port Said yesterday. A ship like that will have no trouble making up the rest of the distance.”
“So she came directly from Brindisi?”
“Directly from Brindisi. She took on the Indian mail there and left Saturday at five in the afternoon. Be patient, Mr. Fix. She’ll be here soon.”
The consul looked at him with some amusement.
“But honestly, I don’t see how you’ll recognize your man from the description you have. Even if he is on board the Mongolia.”
“A detective doesn’t always recognize a criminal by his face,” Fix said confidently. “Sometimes you can almost feel that someone is a criminal. You develop a kind of sixth sense. It combines what you see, hear, and notice.”
He smiled.
“I’ve arrested plenty of criminals in my time. If my man is on that ship, I promise you, he won’t escape me.”
“I hope you’re right, Mr. Fix,” said the consul. “It was a very serious robbery.”
“Serious? It was magnificent!” Fix exclaimed. “Fifty-five thousand pounds! We don’t get opportunities like that every day.”
He shook his head.
“Criminals these days are getting pathetic. A man can be hanged for stealing a few shillings!”
The consul laughed.
“I like your confidence, Mr. Fix, and I hope you succeed. But I’m afraid it won’t be as easy as you think. The description you have could easily belong to an honest gentleman.”
“Consul,” Fix replied firmly, “the greatest criminals always look like respectable people.”
He leaned closer.
“If a man has an obviously criminal face, he has only one choice—he must remain honest. Otherwise, he’d be arrested immediately.”
Fix smiled proudly at his own theory.
“The real skill is seeing through an innocent-looking face. That takes experience. It’s an art.”
Clearly, Fix thought very highly of himself.
Meanwhile, the quay was becoming more crowded and noisy.
Sailors from different countries, merchants, ship agents, porters, and local workers hurried about. Everyone was preparing for the arrival of the Mongolia.
The weather was clear and slightly cool. The town’s minarets rose above the buildings in the pale morning sunlight. Farther out, a long pier stretched into the sea, while fishing boats and small coastal vessels moved across the Red Sea.
Fix continued walking through the crowd, carefully examining every face.
It was now half past ten.
“The ship still isn’t here!” he exclaimed when the harbor clock struck the half hour.
“She can’t be far away now,” the consul replied.
“How long will she stay at Suez?”
“Four hours. She needs to take on coal.”
The consul pointed toward the sea.
“It’s about 1,310 miles from Suez to Aden, at the other end of the Red Sea. She needs enough fuel for the journey.”
“Then she goes directly from Suez to Bombay?”
“Without stopping.”
“Excellent,” Fix said.
“If the robber is on board, he’ll probably leave the ship at Suez. From here, he could travel to one of the Dutch or French colonies in Asia by another route.”
He paused.
“He knows he wouldn’t be safe for long in India. It’s British territory.”
“Unless he’s exceptionally clever,” the consul replied.
“You know, Mr. Fix, an English criminal can sometimes hide more easily in London than anywhere else.”
The remark made Fix think.
A moment later, the consul returned to his office, leaving Fix alone on the quay.
The detective became even more restless.
He had a strong feeling that the bank robber was on the Mongolia.
If the thief had really left London and intended to reach the New World, Fix reasoned, he would probably travel through India. The Atlantic route would be watched much more closely, while this route was harder for the police to monitor.
Fix was still thinking when a series of sharp whistles suddenly sounded across the harbor.
“The Mongolia!”
The porters and local workers rushed toward the end of the quay.
A dozen small boats immediately pushed away from shore to meet the approaching steamer.
Soon the enormous ship appeared between the banks of the canal.
At exactly eleven o’clock, the Mongolia dropped anchor.
The ship had brought an unusually large number of passengers. Some remained on deck, enjoying the view of the town. Most, however, climbed into the waiting boats and headed for the quay.
Fix immediately took up a position where he could see everyone.
One by one, he examined every passenger who came ashore.
Then a man pushed his way through the crowd of impatient porters and approached Fix.
“Excuse me, sir,” the man said politely. “Could you tell me where the British consulate is?”
He produced a passport.
“I need to have this visaed.”
Fix took the passport automatically.
He glanced at the description.
Then he froze.
The description was exactly the same as the one Scotland Yard had given him for the bank robber.
Fix looked up sharply.
“Is this your passport?”
“No,” the man replied. “It belongs to my master.”
“And your master is…?”
“He stayed on board the ship.”
“But your master must go to the consulate himself. He needs to establish his identity.”
“Oh, really? Is that necessary?”
“Absolutely. It’s indispensable.”
The man looked slightly annoyed.
“And where is the consulate?”
“Over there,” Fix said, pointing toward a building about two hundred steps away on the corner of the square.
The man sighed.
“I’ll go and fetch my master. He won’t be very happy about being disturbed, though.”
He politely bowed to Fix and turned back toward the Mongolia.