But he was really more worried about the damage to his reputation than about any monetary loss that he was suffering from the thefts.
’There’ll be complaints, trade investigations. When most of Paris is buying and selling on the Black Market, they will not hesitate to think me guilty of dishonest dealing. My honour is at stake; I must advertise that I am prepared to replace every bottle of watered perfume that turns up.’
I pointed out that that might cost a fortune.
‘I must not think of that. I must think of Karen,* he replied with a certain dignity.
We were interrupted by a telephone call for Duval. He excused himself, and went to the study to take it.
When he was gone, Karen said: ‘Harry…I feel ashamed.’
I told her not to get sentimental.
Then she said decisively: ‘I’ve got to tell Edmund about Andre.’
‘If Andre talks, Duval will throw you out,’ I reminded her.
‘I’ll have to take that chance. I don’t know…maybe I ought to tell him everything, about us, and ask him to forgive.’
‘Don’t tell me you love the little runt.’ I smiled at the idea.
But she was serious. ‘Maybe not,’ she said after a few moments’ consideration. ’At any rate not the way I loved you. But I feel sorry for him. He was thinking of me. After all the killing and misery, it is good to know that someone has a sense of decency. I don’t want to be the one to kick the props out from under him.’
At that moment Duval came in. The police had made an important arrest. It was one of the workmen at the factory: and he wanted to see Duval before he made a statement.
On my way out, I managed to have a word with Andre. Half an hour later he was in my hotel room. He had a suitcase with him.
‘My friend hasn’t talked yet,’ he said, ’or I’d have been under arrest by now. But I’m taking no chances. I’m going to hide till this is over.’
I opened a bureau drawer, and gave him a pile of banknotes. It was his share. At that moment there was the sound of footsteps on the stairs.
‘Someone’s coming,’ he whispered. ‘What shall we do if it’s the police?’
There was not a moment to be lost. I opened the window. ‘Use the fire-escape…Goodbye and good luck, Andre.’
I had barely closed the window again when there was a knock at the door.
It was Duval. He looked ill.
‘Come in,’ I said. ‘What is it? You look ill. Let me get you some wine.’
He sat down heavily on the chair. ‘Karen has told me everything,’ he blurted out. ’At first I was going to kill you, but that would hurt her more than taking my own life.’
’Either act would be foolish/1 remarked.
He looked at me with hatred. ‘M. Lime.’ he said at length, ‘I love Karen. I knew she did not love me greatly when I offered marriage, but I felt that she was beginning to have some respect for me, and as time went on she would forget the man who left her waiting at the Savoy. My devotion was having some reward when you came into her life. M. Lime, I would like to make a bargain with you.’
Bargains have always interested me.
’There is reason to believe that you are connected in some way with spurious perfume sales. But we have no proof. Andre has disappeared. In exchange for 50,000 francs, I wish you to leave Paris/
I told him that that was already my intention.
But, he explained, I had to leave in such a way as to destroy Karen’s regard for me. I had to write a letter admitting that I was at the bottom of the perfume swindle.
‘I don’t intend to show it her.’ he concluded. ‘It will be in my safe, and will never be used unless I find you in Paris. Then I shall give it to the police…Will you sign?’
‘With pleasure.’ I replied, remembering the 50,000 francs.
I was on my way to the railway station, well pleased with the profits from my short stay in Paris, when the cab jerked to a halt.
The driver leaned back:, ’The street’s blocked.’ he explained. ’There’s been an explosion…you’ll have to get out. The officer is signalling for the cab.’
A gendarme put his head through the window. ‘Sorry, Monsieur, we must get a woman to hospital.
.…Help me with her, driver…there is a man back there…Would you, Monsieur, be good enough to see if you can help.’
I went over to the injured man, but he was past helping. His head had been completely crushed under a cornice. All I had time to do was to make a minor alteration in his belongings when the officer returned.
‘I’ll look for identification papers.’ he said. ‘Ah, here’s a wallet.’
‘Poor devil…who is he?’ I asked.
‘M. Harry Lime.’ was the answer.
It ended, as it began, on the Geneva Express. A pot-bellied man with a bald head came into the compartment and sat opposite to me.
I lowered my newspaper, and coughed.
‘M. Duval!’
He turned pale. ‘But I thought you were…’
I laughed at his amazement, and explained what had happened.
‘You have more than kept your bargain to make Karen forget you.’ he said at last. ‘I asked only that you should stay away from her. But you have done more. Karen grieved for a few weeks, but suddenly, she changed, and now she is quite devoted to me. We are most happy. I owe it all to you.’
For once I was embarrassed. ‘Rot! It was convenient to disappear, Especially after I signed that letter.’
‘Karen.’ he went on, ‘she is so wonderful and good. I thought that you were entirely bad, I admit, but on second thoughts I knew differently. I knew that if Karen had once cared for you, you could not be worthless.’
The topic of my goodness was beginning to bore me, so I changed the subject and asked what had happened to Andre.
He had repented of his thefts, and returned much of the money to Duval.
‘Where is he now?’ I asked.
‘He is instructor at the university.’
‘Philosophy?’
Wes, he has a course in moral ethics. They say it is the most popular in the university.
As the train came to the border, M. Duval looked startled as I got up to stretch. Our eyes met, and he seemed to be asking me if I were getting off. A look of relief came to him as he saw that I was only getting the cigarettes out of my coat on the rack. He settled back and smiled as the train sped on towards Geneva. There was something missing about him that I couldn’t quite make out.
Suddenly, as I finished a story, he roared with laughter. I realised what it was.
M. Duval had lost his silly giggle.
FIVE THOUSAND PENGOES AND A KISS
by
Carl Jampel
In my time and day, I’ve been called many things, most of which I’d rather not repeat here. But strangely enough, the one• thing I’ve never been called is the one thing I really am—a business man. Does that amuse you? Well, let me give you some idea of my philosophy of business.
All business pays in direct proportion to the amount of risk involved, the safest investment, therefore, paying the lowest return. So in a purely financial sense, people outside the law are actually only ambitious business men willing to take the highest risks for the highest returns. Which is why I am personally very fond of Law!
Let me give you an example. Recent political events in Hungary brought about new and strict laws regarding leaving the country. But people have always wanted to leave countries—even so charming a country as Hungary—and they will pay well for certain risky arrangements to be made for them. So inevitably I found myself in Budapest, where I had soon made certain necessary contacts; and then, like any business man, I went looking for customers, which, as in any business, are often found in the nicest places.
That is why, one evening not long ago, I happened to be in the exclusive Club Royale in Budapest. Now the Club Royale is a very lovely place, but not nearly as lovely as the young lady I soon noticed making her way to my
table.
I recognised her at once. In fact you would have been hard put to find anyone in Budapest who would not recognise the very famous and equally lovely Helene Bama, actress, singer, and dancer.
She asked me whether I was Harry Lime, and when I had acknowledged that that indeed was my own humble name, she sat down uninvited. After a moment or two, she blurted out: ‘Mr. Lime, I must get out of the country, and I understood that you could help—’
I interrupted her. ‘My dear Miss Bama, certainly I needn’t tell you that you can’t believe everything you hear—and you certainly can’t repeat it in public places!’
She realised that she had made a faux pas and was covered in confusion.
‘My guess is,’ I went on, ’that you have been working too hard. I think that nothing would do you so much good as a visit to the Zoological Gardens.’
‘Mr. Lime!’ she protested.
‘In fact, I’d be delighted to offer my services as your escort tomorrow afternoon and show you the monkey house…’
She was annoyed. ‘Mr. Lime, really, I’m not in the mood to look at animals.’
I was insistent ‘It is my opinion, Miss Barna, that nothing could be more important to you right now than a visit to the monkey house tomorrow afternoon.’
She still hadn’t caught on.
‘But what are you—’ she was asking before I interrupted.
’The monkey house, Miss Barna, at one o’clock tomorrow. Good night.’
And so it happened that the following afternoon I arrived at the monkey house adequately armed—with a bag of peanuts. I had been informed that monkeys are very fond of peanuts, and was testing the truth of this information on a rascally little fellow with a long tail when I noticed Helene Barna coming towards me and looking; every bit as lovely in daylight as she had the night before—a feat few women can accomplish.
I offered her some peanuts. She refused them, and said: ‘Couldn’t we talk some place quieter?’
‘It’s my guess, Miss Barna,’ I replied, ’that conversations such as ours are better held with noise.’ She smiled, and I concentrated on feeding peanuts to the monkeys.
Then she began, ‘I must leave the country as soon as possible and I was told you could arrange it for me.’
I remarked that she was flattering me.
‘I’ve tried to get a passport many times, but they’ve always refused,’ she went on.
’On what grounds?’
’On no grounds. My applications simply go unanswered.’
’For what reason?’
‘I—I don’t know,’ she hesitated. ’They simply ignore my requests.’
‘I looked at her; she avoided my glance, and then continued: ‘Very well, I’ll tell you the story. My husband—(he’s the reason for my being refused a passport)—is an enemy of the current regime. They would like nothing better than to get him back from Austria, where he is now, and I am being held as a lure. We’ve been apart for a long time now, and the last word I received from my husband is that he is ‘planning to attempt a visit. But if he should even try to enter the country, I hate to think of the fate that awaits him. So you understand that I must get to Austria before my husband does something rash. I understand you can make the necessary arrangements for me. So there are only two questions I have to ask. Will you do it, and how much will it cost?’
There was silence for a moment. Then I said, ‘You’re very lovely, my dear.’
‘Will you please pay attention.’
‘But I am paying attention! My price to anyone else would be ten thousand gold pengoes, but for someone as charming as yourself, my price is five thousand ‘pengoes and a kiss.’
She gasped. ’Five thousand…! But I couldn’t possibly pay that! ’
I turned my attention, towards the monkeys. ‘If someone were to open the gate of one of these cages,’ I remarked, ‘I wonder if they would stop to quibble about peanuts. Five thousand gold pengoes, Miss Barna, at the Schurplatz tomorrow midnight!’
The following evening at midnight I was at the Schurplatz. It was a bad night. A fine drizzle filled the air, and shone on the cobblestones. I watched the square from a dark doorway. Just as the clock had struck twelve I heard footsteps.
It was Helene Barna—wearing a trench-coat, collar turned up, a dark beret, her hair glistening in the mist. I remained in the doorway as she walked past me.
I allowed her to continue on to the far side of the square, turn, and look back in my direction. A little matter of making sure she was unescorted and unfollowed. As she approached the doorway in which I stood, for the second time, I stepped out into the light of the street lamp.
Before she had time to speak, I took hold of her arm and started to walk.
‘Nothing attracts a police officer as soon as a couple standing still on a deserted street-corner.’ I remarked. She relaxed a little, and I asked whether she had brought the money.
‘It’s in the right-hand pocket of my coat.’
I began to give her my instructions. She was to arrange an engagement as a singer at a Country Club in the little village of Magyarovar. In addition to being a beautiful place, it had the additional attract tion of being located near to the border.
She objected that she would never be granted a work permit. But I knew better.
‘In this case.’ I said, ‘I think it will be wise for you to apply for a work permit Who knows, there is always a chance that you will be granted one.’
‘All right, I will.’ But she was still uncertain.
‘And now with my apologies, I’m afraid I must leave you. Don’t try to get in touch with me. I’ll get in touch with you. Good night, Miss Bama.’
‘Wait.’ she called. ‘You have forgotten the money. I have it right here.’ She slipped her hand into her pocket, and gave a gasp. ‘It’s gone.’ she cried. ‘It’s gone. I had it in this pocket and now it’s disappeared !’
I smiled. ‘No, Miss Barna, not disappeared. Just in good hands now. Good night!’
Now a business such as mine can lead one in strange paths, and my path the next morning led me to the Budapest Police Department. Or more specifically to the office of a certain police lieutenant, now at work at his desk.
After the door had closed and the formalities were over, I took one of his cigarettes, leaned back in my chair and said to him: ‘I would like you to arrange a work permit for a lady of my acquaintance.’
He jumped up in anger. ‘Now see here, Lime, you’re going too far asking favours for your girt friends!’ He crossed to the window, and then continued with his back towards me: ‘I’m not at all satisfied with the way that our arrangement has been working out. Our understanding was quite plain and simple. I agreed to let you carry on your dirty little operation of sneaking frightened devils across the border, provided you notified me whenever anyone of importance tried to leave the country. You know this is the only way I could allow you to play your game with the small fry.’ He turned round and eyed me coldly. ‘It’s six months now since you delivered anyone of consequence to me and Pm beginning to wonder about the whole arrangement.’
I put my feet up on his polished mahogany desk.
It seemed to anger him. I smiled, and then casually remarked, ’The lady’s name happens to be Helene Barna.’
His attitude changed instantly. ‘Just what we need.! The inspector has been making my life miserable, and this should keep him quiet for a while.’ He thought for a moment, and then said, almost to himself, ‘So Helene Barna is trying to leave the country.’
‘I’ve made no arrangements,’ I said. ‘I assumed it wasn’t necessary. You’ve always spared me the trouble in cases such as this.’
He went back to his seat at the desk and sat there silently. Then he said: ‘No, this case is different. I want Helene Barna caught in the act of trying to cross the border. An example must be made.’
Now this wasn’t part of our agreement at all. I don’t mind doing what I must in order to stay in business, but e
ven I draw the line at leading the victim to the guillotine and holding her head—especially such a beautiful head—while the knife falls.
But he was adamant. If our arrangement was to continue, he must have a major public arrest.
‘I don’t like it,’ I said.
His tone was grim. ‘I didn’t ask you what you liked…We can arrange it so that you will be absolutely safe. You can leave the girl at the border just before my men close in on her.’
I sighed my assent. ‘And the work permit?’ I asked.
‘Miss Barna will be in Magyarovar by tomorrow night,’ was his reply.
Several nights later, I drove to Magyarovar to see Helene Barna. It would have been simpler, no doubt, to have gone by railway, but experience told me that the car would be valuable before the evening was out. I arrived at the Country Club shortly after nine o’clock. She was just concluding a number, but she saw me as soon as I entered, and hurried over to me.
I told her that all the arrangements had been made. We would drive to a certain place near the frontier where the wire of the barrier had been cut. The frontier itself lay a short distance beyond, at the beginning of the forest.
‘Go directly to the ladies’ room,’ I told her, ‘and, when you are alone in there, climb out through the back window—’
‘Climb through the…?’
‘I hate to sound melodramatic. It’s the only way through. If we walked through the front door the management would have the entire Police Department down on us before we got a hundred feet.’
‘What then?’ she asked.
‘I will be waiting behind the building with my car,’ I replied.
I watched her go. She was obviously afraid, but still she had courage. I waited until she had crossed the room and gone into the corridor that led to the ladies’ room, and then I turned and went out through the front door towards my car. A soft voice called my name in the darkness. It was the police lieutenant. His voice sounded worried.
’The girl has ruined everything.’
The Lives of Harry Lime v1.0 Page 7