by Clara Benson
‘It really won’t do, you know,’ she said.
‘I dare say you’re right,’ he said, ‘but it’s such a dreadful pity. We do seem to go rather well together, don’t you think?’
Angela had no intention of answering that question. She had now fully returned to her senses, and although her attempts at maintaining a cool distance had admittedly proved a resounding, nay, spectacular failure, she was determined to end it now, if necessary by leaving Stresa herself that very night. She was about to say something suitably brisk and off-putting, despite the fact that he was at that moment distracting her by twirling a lock of her hair gently around his finger and smiling into her eyes, when she suddenly heard the sound of someone approaching along the path. He heard it too and they instantly sprang apart.
Whoever it was paused for a second before coming into view, and Angela was just about to take the opportunity to escape when to her surprise La Duchessa entered the clearing. She was dressed in a magnificent evening-gown that shimmered in the dim light, and as always she looked much too exotic for the simple, pretty surroundings of Stresa. Instead of saluting them politely and moving on, La Duchessa glanced briefly at Angela and then turned her attention to Valencourt, who suddenly looked not a little apprehensive. She snapped something at him in a language Angela did not recognize, and he replied to her politely in the same tongue. His answer seemed to displease La Duchessa, for she shook her head rapidly several times and tapped her watch sharply. He replied with a shake of the head, and she drew herself up with a little ‘Ha!’ of indignation and began to fumble in her evening-bag.
‘I am sorry,’ she said in English to Angela, as she finally found what she was looking for. At first Angela had no idea what she was talking about, but then to her astonishment she saw that La Duchessa was holding a pistol and pointing it directly at Valencourt, who had set his jaw.
‘Get out of the way,’ he said grimly to Angela, and she had barely a second to register his command before two shots rang out loudly and he fell to the ground. La Duchessa calmly replaced the gun in her bag and, without even stopping to look behind her, strode away and out of sight, leaving Angela standing there, stunned, with Valencourt lying at her feet.
TWENTY-ONE
Instantly Angela was on her knees and bending over the prostrate body of Edgar Valencourt. His eyes were closed and he was quite immobile. She patted his face gently and felt for a pulse, but her fingers were trembling and she could find none.
‘Oh, goodness me,’ she said in the greatest dismay. ‘Edgar! Edgar! Are you all right? Speak to me! Oh, what shall I do?’ She sat up and looked about her. ‘A doctor,’ she said. ‘Where can I find a doctor?’
‘Are you quite mad?’ he said, opening his eyes, and she gave a little gasp of shock.
‘I thought she’d killed you,’ she said.
‘I’m not certain she hasn’t,’ he said weakly.
‘Don’t move,’ she said. ‘Let me have a look. Where did she hit you?’
‘In my side,’ he said. ‘She only hit me once, I think.’
She pulled open his jacket and examined him as best she could in the dim light.
‘It’s difficult to tell,’ she said. ‘It might be just a graze, but I can’t see well enough to be sure. We must get you to a doctor—and we must call the police and tell them to arrest La Duchessa immediately.’
‘We can’t call the police, you idiot,’ he said.
‘Oh, but—’ she said, and paused, aghast. Of course the police must not be called. La Duchessa was safe. ‘But surely you can see a doctor?’
‘How can I explain what happened? If I turn up with a bullet wound he’s bound to ask questions, don’t you think?’
‘But then what shall I do?’ said Angela. ‘I can’t leave you here, bleeding all over the place. You’ll frighten the guests.’
‘You must get me to my car,’ he said. ‘I shall go home and see what I can do for myself.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she said. ‘You can’t possibly drive in that state. I’ll take you. Do you think you can stand up?’
He tried to protest but she cut him short, and indeed he was not entirely reluctant for he was in some pain. With difficulty she raised him to a sitting position, where he remained for a minute or two to fetch his breath, and then helped him get to his feet.
‘Can you walk?’ she said.
‘Of course I can,’ he said. He took a few steps but then his legs buckled under him and she only just managed to prevent him from falling.
‘You’re most likely in shock,’ she said. ‘We’d better get you home and into bed. Where’s your car?’
‘On the road outside,’ he said. ‘It’s quite near.’
‘Good,’ she said. ‘Now, put your arm around my shoulders. If we meet anyone we’ll say you’re dead drunk.’
‘Splendid,’ he said dryly, but did as she said, and they walked slowly in the direction of the road.
They reached the car without incident, and although they met one or two people on the way nobody gave them more than a glance of curiosity. Angela helped him in carefully and got in herself.
‘Don’t fall asleep,’ she said, for he was beginning to look a little groggy. ‘I have no idea where you live.’
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘It’s up in the hills, just outside Stresa. Just follow this road and I’ll tell you when to turn.’
Outside the town it was pitch dark and Angela had to take great care not to drive off the road.
‘Can’t you go a little slower?’ said Valencourt, grimacing as she hurtled around a bend at breakneck speed.
‘Sorry,’ she said, glancing at him in concern. ‘How far is it now?’
‘Just here,’ he said, indicating a side-road that led up through the trees. It was bumpy, and Angela drove as slowly as she could to avoid causing him further pain, but still he looked rather pale when they finally drew up outside the little villa in which he lived.
‘Is this your house?’ she said.
‘It belongs to my family,’ he said. ‘We used it as a holiday home many years ago.’
‘Do they know you’re here?’ she said curiously.
‘I doubt it,’ he said. ‘They have more houses than they can possibly use, and they’ve probably forgotten about this one.’
He looked as though he were about to say more, but then changed his mind.
‘Let’s get you inside,’ she said.
Here in the hills and among the trees the air was cooler, which was something of a relief after the closeness of Stresa. She helped him into the house, then found a lamp and turned it on. They were in a little sitting-room which was sparsely furnished—so much so that it looked almost as though no-one lived there at all. He sat down in sudden exhaustion on the nearest chair.
‘Better have a look at you, I suppose,’ said Angela, and helped him remove his jacket. His shirt was torn to shreds at the left side and soaked with blood, and she grimaced. He saw it and attempted a smile.
‘How long do you suppose I have left?’ he said.
‘I’ll be able to tell better when we’ve got that shirt and tie off you,’ she said. She saw his look, and said tartly, ‘Let’s imagine for the purposes of this examination that I’m your mother.’
‘What a horrible thought,’ he said, but sat obediently as she briskly removed the articles in question. She knelt down and peered dispassionately at the wound.
‘Hmm,’ she said a minute or two later, frowning. She sat back on her heels. ‘Well, it doesn’t look as though you’re in any immediate danger, at least. I think it’s probably just a graze, as there’s no bullet in you as far as I can see, although you’ve bled rather a lot and I shouldn’t be at all surprised if it splintered a bit of rib as it passed. Have you any water? The wound ought to be cleaned immediately.’
‘In the kitchen,’ he said.
‘I’ll need some bandages too,’ she said. ‘Or sheets will do just as well, if you don’t happen to have any. And I think you coul
d probably do with a drink,’ she added.
She found some whisky and poured him a stiff measure, then busied herself about in the kitchen. When she returned carrying water and bandages she found that the whisky had revived him slightly, for some of the colour had returned to his face. She put down her burden and poured him some more.
‘Drink that,’ she said as she knelt down again. ‘This is probably going to hurt a bit.’
‘Try not to enjoy it too much,’ said Valencourt, and she glanced up at him.
‘I think the patient will do very well,’ was all she said, and set to work. He bore it stoically, with only the occasional wince, and it was all done sooner than might have been expected. Angela examined her handiwork and then straightened up.
‘There,’ she said. ‘That’s the best I can do in the circumstances, I’m afraid.’
‘I’d like to say it feels better,’ he said, ‘but it doesn’t, much. Still, I’m sure you’ve done a fine job. Thank you, nurse.’
‘I’m sorry about the sheets,’ she said, looking at the damp and bloodied rags that lay about the floor. ‘I think they were rather good ones, unfortunately, but I couldn’t find anything else. They do make excellent bandages, though.’
‘No matter,’ he said. ‘Sheets can be replaced. I say, you’re rather efficient at this sort of thing, aren’t you?’
‘“Efficient” is the word, yes,’ she said. ‘I can patch up a wound but I’m not very good at the sympathy bit. And think yourself lucky I didn’t have to give you any stitches. My competence with a needle is limited, to say the least. Now, it’s getting late and what you need is some sleep. You must be exhausted.’
‘I am, rather,’ he said, stifling a yawn.
He stood up and she helped him into his bedroom, which was furnished just as sparsely as the sitting-room. Angela glanced around. Since he spent so much of his time on the run presumably he had no opportunity to make the place comfortable.
‘Well, this has been a most interesting evening,’ he said as he lowered himself gingerly onto the bed.
‘You were very lucky she didn’t kill you,’ said Angela.
‘Should you have come to my funeral if she had?’ he said.
‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘I look dreadful in black.’
‘I’m quite sure you look delightful in any colour,’ he said, and winced. ‘Damn the woman! Why on earth did she have to shoot me?’
‘I’m sorry you got hurt, but I think she may have done me a good turn,’ said Angela.
‘That’s hardly kind, when we were getting along so well,’ he said.
‘A little too well, I think,’ she said. ‘Why did she shoot you, by the way? What did you do to upset her so much?’
‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘Assume immediately it was my fault, why don’t you?’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, trying not to laugh, ‘but it’s an easy assumption to make. I have found myself at the wrong end of a gun once or twice in my life too, and each time it’s because I have offended in some way, however unwittingly.’
‘I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow,’ he said. His eyes were growing heavy but suddenly they snapped open. ‘You’re not going, are you? Please say you’re not.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I’ll sleep in one of the other rooms.’
He fumbled for her hand and raised it to his lips.
‘Thank you,’ was all he said.
‘Try and get some sleep,’ she said, and went out.
TWENTY-TWO
When Angela went in the next morning, carrying a tray with a bowl of water and a pot of coffee, she found Edgar Valencourt, looking tired and drawn but slightly more like his usual self, sitting on the edge of the bed and flexing his left arm experimentally.
‘You ought to be lying down,’ she said.
‘I’m just testing to see how much my side hurts when I do this,’ he said. ‘The answer is quite a lot.’
‘Yes, it’s probably going to be pretty sore for a good while yet,’ she said, ‘and waving your arm about won’t help. Now, get back into bed. I’ve brought you some coffee, for which I apologize in advance.’
‘Why, what have you put in it?’ he said, sitting back reluctantly against the pillows. ‘Arsenic?’
‘For all I know it tastes like it,’ she said, regarding it doubtfully. ‘I haven’t made coffee for such a long time, you see. Normally I have Marthe to do it for me, and I’m afraid I’ve been quite spoilt. I’m sure I used to be very capable, but one forgets such a lot when one is constantly looked after.’
‘Ah, yes,’ he said. ‘I know all about you society women with your rich husbands and hordes of servants. Your hands grow soft and weak. A nice long spell of scrubbing dishes or picking blackberries would do you no end of good.’
‘I have precisely two servants, and I’ve never taken so much as a penny off my husband,’ she said haughtily. ‘Even supposing he had a penny, which I very much doubt.’
‘Don’t tell me you live on the proceeds of a life of crime,’ he said. ‘If that’s the case then we are clearly meant for one another.’
‘Of course not,’ she said, laughing. ‘My money is my own, and was honestly come by. If you must know, I am a business-woman, and a rather successful one at that.’
‘Good Lord,’ he said, entertained. ‘How very modern. What is it? A shop of some sort?’
‘Not exactly,’ she said. ‘More in the way of an office. Now, if you’ve finished that coffee and you’re quite sure I haven’t poisoned you, I’ll take a look at your wound and change the bandage, and you can tell me about La Duchessa. I confess I don’t like to think of her out there on the loose, since she’s evidently very dangerous.’
‘I don’t think there’s much to be done,’ he said. ‘She’ll be miles away by now. I’d like very much to know how she managed to follow me all the way here, though.’
‘Where did she follow you from?’
‘Antwerp,’ he said. ‘That’s where I know her from, at any rate.’
‘Were you—’ she began, and hesitated, embarrassed.
‘Goodness me, no,’ he said in surprise. ‘It’s nothing of that sort. No,’ he went on, ‘I’m afraid she holds me responsible for her husband’s presently being in gaol.’
‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘Who is her husband? And were you responsible?’
‘Of course not,’ he said indignantly. ‘He made a promise he couldn’t keep and he paid for it.’
‘This is all very mysterious,’ she said. ‘Perhaps I oughtn’t to have asked.’
‘No, I suppose it’s only fair to tell you,’ he said, ‘since you’re indirectly involved yourself.’
‘I?’ she said, glancing up from her work in astonishment.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I dare say you remember a little holiday you took in Cornwall last July?’
‘Of course I do,’ she said.
‘And no doubt you also remember that I happened to be there at the same time, and that we were both searching for a certain item.’
‘A diamond necklace, yes,’ she said. ‘And we found it and I handed it in to the police like the good girl I am, and everybody was happy except you—at least, I seem to recall that’s how it went.’
‘An admirably concise summary,’ he said. ‘The only thing was, I’d rather promised it to this fellow, er—’
‘Mr. La Duchessa,’ put in Angela helpfully.
‘—who lives in Antwerp and makes his money by helping people such as myself who need to get rid of things in a hurry.’
‘A fence, you mean,’ said Angela.
‘Exactly,’ he said. ‘Now, as it happens, Mr.—er—La Duchessa had in turn quite rashly promised the necklace to someone else, an immensely wealthy private collector of important paintings and works of art and jewellery, who is very well known in the less reputable circles as a buyer of dishonestly-obtained goods. I have no idea who he is—I don’t think anyone does, as a matter of fact—but I do know that he is prepared to pay q
uite enormous sums of money to get his hands on these things. To those who deliver the goods he is incredibly generous, but he can also be rather vengeful if his expectations are not met.’
‘I see,’ said Angela. ‘And Mr. La Duchessa couldn’t deliver the goods because he didn’t have them.’
‘Exactly.’
‘You might have had the necklace, you know,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t have stopped you from taking it from me if you’d wanted to.’
‘I know,’ he said, ‘but I won’t use violence against a woman. And besides, you rather shamed me into letting you have it.’
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ she said.
‘At any rate, this fence had to explain that the necklace would not be forthcoming. The news was not well received, threats were made and the next I heard the fellow had been clapped in irons.’
‘Dear me,’ said Angela. ‘Do you think this collector was responsible for giving him away to the police?’
‘I’ve no doubt of it,’ said Valencourt. ‘He’s done it before. He doesn’t take kindly to being crossed, you see.’
‘And now presumably La Duchessa blames you for it.’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘She turned up the other day, and said now that her husband was in prison she wanted money.’
‘Couldn’t you have given her some?’ said Angela. ‘Presumably even criminals’ wives have to eat.’
‘It’s hardly my job to support another man’s wife,’ he said. ‘And besides, it wasn’t money to feed herself she wanted—it was reparation. She wanted me to pay her the value her husband would have got for the necklace had he sold it on. I was hardly going to do that, since firstly I didn’t have that sort of sum and secondly it wasn’t my fault he’d made a rash promise to someone else, was it? At any rate, she gave me until last night to come up with the money, on pain of unspecified action on her part.’