The Malady in Maderia

by Ann Bridge

  14

  Julia Watched With interest as Porfirio took the tray from the maid, set it on a small table and then, after greeting, led her aside and began to talk to her in a low voice. The woman was middle-aged, with a square cheerful face over which a look of concern gradually spread as her uncle unfolded his wishes—or rather, what were, as presently became evident, his instructions; she looked doubtfully at Julia, who had started taking her soup, fingered her keys nervously, and talked rapidly, clearly uneasy at what she was being asked to do. Porfirio spoke more and more vigorously; the maid looked more and more unhappy—Julia began to wonder if he would succeed. Buttering a piece of Melba toast—“O Porfirio” she said, speaking in Portuguese, slowly and clearly, “does your niece understand that this so short visit to the room of the Senhores is being made at the wish of the Senhor Armitage, from the Shipping Office, who sends so many guests to the hotel?” In her hurried briefing of the old man she had not said that; it occurred to her that this information, though not strictly true, might conceivably reassure Speranza, if indeed she had ever heard of the Shipping Office. Evidently she had; her expression relaxed a little, and after some further exhortation on Porfirio’s part, she at last nodded, and asked when the Senhora wished to see the room.

  “Now” Julia said, still slowly and coolly; she took another spoonful of soup, and then got up and moved towards the door.

  Number 17 was on the same floor as Julia’s room, but at the opposite side of the building; looking rather anxiously about her to see if the corridor was empty, the maid unlocked the door and ushered Julia and Porfirio in, and slipped in herself, bolting the door after her. “But with all possible speed!” she muttered urgently.

  Julia lost no time. She glanced about first to see what luggage there was—several suitcases, but all were unlocked, and empty. Bother!—then perhaps the Spaniards had already disposed of what she was looking for, or were keeping it with them. However, quickly and methodically, she opened drawer after drawer, feeling among scarves and handkerchiefs with deft hands, but replacing everything exactly as she found it. Julia knew well enough what tapes looked like, and how they were packed, in very thin flat round boxes, but film she had never seen. Next the lower drawers, with the shirts and pyjamas; one held several of the gaudy Nazaré tartan shirts which had made it so easy to recognise that Spaniard at a distance—and here her hand came on something hard, folded into a shirt in the middle of a pile. With quickened breath she used both hands to draw it out. It was a flat round metal box, some six inches in diameter and an inch or more deep, sealed with insulating tape; it felt rather heavy, and when she lifted it she could hear and feel something solid move slightly inside. Quickly she put it in her hand-bag, rearranged that drawer, and went through all the others—she found nothing else.

  At this point Speranza came over to her, and rather to her surprise tapped the hand-bag—“Could it be opened?” she asked, still in that low voice. Julia opened it; the woman took out the round box, examined it, and put it back—then muttering “Mais tres!” she led Julia across the room to where an old-fashioned painted wicker clothes-basket stood by the bathroom door. Out of this, from under a heap of soiled socks and shirts, she drew out a round bundle tied up in a scarf, and undid it; it did indeed contain three more of the metal boxes.

  Julia sought no farther; she glanced round for the camera, but it was not there. She thanked the maid warmly, and gave Porfirio the boxes to carry—“in your pockets, por favor.” Speranza unbolted the door, and they returned to Number 11; the whole operation had taken less than ten minutes, and so far as Julia could see had passed entirely unobserved. Back in her room she first thanked the maid again, and dismissed her with a small tip; then she quickly finished her supper and her packing. She threw out her unused sandwiches, and managed to squeeze all four tins into her capacious haversack; then she went downstairs and settled her bill, leaving Porfirio to follow with the luggage.

  Back in the car—“Has the Senhora found what she required, to defeat our enemies?” the old man asked earnestly, as they drove off.

  “Thanks to Speranza, I am confident that I have,” Julia said —“And I am most obliged to you for your help.” When they reached old Mrs. Armitage’s Quinta she did not drive in, but pulled up in the road; she took two very large notes out of her purse and handed them to the old man. “One is for you, the other for Speranza—but do not give it to her till next week” she said. “Be sure to remember this—it is very important. Boa noite.” And drove quickly away.

  However, in a quiet street she pulled up and reflected for a little. Yes—though it was getting late, she had better unload her haul onto Sir Percy tonight; he would have to fit it into his luggage somehow. She drove back to the clinic, asked the doorman to keep an eye on her car and luggage, and went upstairs.

  Sir Percy and Colin were sitting on the balcony, drinking Madeira in the warm dark. Sir Percy, as it turned out, had proved to be what Terence called “a Madeira man,” and Mr. Armitage had found time to arrange by telephone for a bottle of something really good to be sent in—they got up in surprise when Julia appeared.

  “Goodness, haven’t you gone yet?” Colin asked.

  “I’m on my way. I just brought a little present for Sir Percy.”

  “I have already received a magnificent gift from good Mr. Armitage” the scientist said, beaming. “What can you have brought for me?”

  “Something I thought you might be glad of Julia said, “but I’d rather give it to you indoors, if you don’t mind.” She went back into Colin’s room and bolted the door; when the two men followed she emptied the contents of her haversack onto the bed.

  “Good God!” Colin exclaimed, as the four round tins rolled out onto the coverlet—he knew at once what they must be. “How on earth did you get those?”

  “From their bedroom. The Hidalgos, most tactfully, were out for the evening, so Porfirio and I went and had a look” Julia said, beginning to laugh a little.

  “Are you sure they’re the right ones?”

  “No, not dead sure, but I think at least three are, because they were so carefully hidden.”

  “Where?” Colin asked.

  “In the dirty-clothes-basket. I should never have found them but for Porfirio’s niece.”

  “What was she doing there?” Colin asked, looking slightly bewildered.

  “She’s the chambermaid; she let us in with her pass-key.” “Well, I’m damned!” For the second time that day Colin thumped his cousin on the back. “How marvellous!”

  “Well, mostly luck, really” Julia said.

  Sir Percy, during this interchange, had stood by the bed, rather doubtfully fingering the round boxes. “Could you explain to me what these—er—presents of yours contain?” he asked Julia.

  “I think they are rolls of film” Julia said—“and I hope they are of the sheep up on the Paúl da Serra. I told my cousin that with any luck you might see them before Polunsky did!” she added gaily.

  “As a matter of fact I fancy that these must be film and soundtrack combined” Colin put in. “The boxes are a bit thicker than for straight film.”

  “Could be—I remember when they were filming the waitress at the hotel that day they were trying to make her sing,” Julia said.

  Sir Percy looked from one cousin to the other, slightly incredulous.

  “And you actually took these things from the bedroom of these young criminals? Surely that was most imprudent?”

  “I don’t think so—the receptionist was positive that the boys were going to be out late tonight” Julia said. “Anyhow it’s all your fault, Sir Percy, that I did it!” she added laughing.

  “How so?” He looked almost indignant.

  “Because you insisted that I mustn’t go back and pack without an escort, so I took Porfirio; when he told me in the car on the way that his niece was a chambermaid at the Montefiore, it put the idea into my head!—and it all worked out. Now, you can stow these in your luggage, can’t you?—a
nd what with those, and the child’s little tin, you’ve got most of what you need, haven’t you?”

  “Indeed yes—and more than I ever expected! Two uncon-venanted boons—and both owed to you.”

  “Good—I’m so glad. See you in the morning. Now I must go.” While Colin unbolted and opened the door, to her immense surprise the scientist bent over her hand and kissed it as she went out.

  It was after ten when Julia got back to the Shergolds; Mrs. Hathaway had already gone up to bed. Gerald greeted her boisterously, as usual. “Glad to see you back, Julia! Does this mean that your espionage activities are over?”

  “Not quite, Gerald. It’s lovely to be back, though.”

  “I hope you haven’t got another early start tomorrow” Pauline said.

  “As a matter of fact I have—but I shan’t need any breakfast, or lunch, Pauline.”

  “Hungry work, espionage!” her host said.

  “Mine is really counter-espionage, you know, Gerald” Julia said cheerfully—“and I think it’s the hungrier of the two! Pauline, I think I’ll go up, and flop into bed; it is good of you to have me as well as Aglaia.”

  “Oh, you’re no trouble!” her hostess said, with her usual candour. “Goodnight, Julia.”

  Up in her room, where her luggage had been sent, Julia found Nannie Mack at work—her unpacking was almost done, her night-things laid neatly on the bed, her effects spread on the dressing-table.

  “Oh bless you, Nannie! How perfect.”

  “Shall you want a bath, Madam?”

  “No, not tonight, Nannie, thank you. How is Philip?”

  “Very well indeed. I wish I could say the same about that young lady” Nannie observed portentously. “I don’t like the look of her at all.”

  “Oh dear. Is she asleep?”

  “Nearer unconscious, to my mind” Nannie said. “I don’t know what was in that injection the doctor gave her, but it felled her like an ox!” Julia was startled by this verbal flight on Nannie Mack’s part. “Still, she needed something,” the Scotswoman went on. “She was verra hysterical when she got here. And I trust Dr. Urquhart; he was in practice in Edinburgh for years.” She put her hand in her open pocket and took out a small round white box. “I don’t know if you would recognise what these are, Madam? I’m to give her two if she starts creating again when she wakes up.”

  Julia looked at the small tablets which the box contained; they were pale yellow, with an E stamped on one side—she recognised them as a fairly usual tranquilliser.

  “Oh yes, Nannie; it’s one of those sedative things.”

  “Oh well. Now I’ll go and fill your bottle, Madam. Would you like a glass of hot milk?”

  “Love one. I think I’ll just go and say goodnight to Mrs. Hathaway. Goodnight, Nannie.”

  Madame Bonnecourt was still tidying up in Mrs. Hathaway’s sitting-room when she went across the passage; yes, Madame was awake, she said. Julia tapped on the bedroom door and went in.

  “Oh, there you are at last, dear child. I’m so glad you’re back.”

  “Yes—I’m sorry to be so late” Julia said. “There were some last-minute things to see to.”

  “Does that mean that your work with Colin is over?” the old lady asked.

  “Well, very nearly, Mrs. H. One more early start tomorrow, and after that it will be only mopping-up, which won’t involve me much, I don’t suppose.”

  “I’m glad—you’ll get some peace and quiet then. And I’m glad you’ve been able to help Colin, of course; this must have been a trying time for him.”

  “Oh, not much worse than usual, only rather important” Julia said. “Mrs. H., you said you only saw Aglaia for a few minutes— what did you think of her?”

  “Completely hysterical” the old lady said decidedly. “Pauline was quite right to get Dr. Urquhart.”

  “Nannie said he’d given her a terrific injection—she said it ’felled her like an ox’ ” Julia said.

  “Did she really? Nannie Mackenzie is full of surprises” the old lady said smiling. “But he is rather troubled about that poor child, and so am I.”

  “Oh, did you see him?”

  “Yes, as he was here he just came in to listen to my chest— which is in perfect order! But he is anxious to get to the bottom of what has caused her to get into such a state.”

  “Well, I hope he’ll keep her under sedation for a day or two, and then manage to put her right” Julia said, worriedly. She got up. “Goodnight, Mrs. H.—sleep well.”

  When Julia drove up to the clinic at a quarter past six the following morning, Sir Percy and Colin were already standing at the door. Colin quickly put the luggage into the car and got into the back, while Sir Percy got in beside her. “That’s right—on you go” Colin said, rather urgently.

  “Why? Surely we’re all right for time?” Julia said, glancing at her watch as she started the engine.

  “Sir Percy’s making the equivalent of a moonlight flit!” Colin said, giggling.

  “Gracious! You don’t mean to say the doctor doesn’t know you’re going?” Julia asked in surprise, as she turned out into the road. “Didn’t you say goodbye to him, or anything?” she said, in rather shocked tones.

  “Mrs. Jamieson, in these quite exceptional circumstances I thought it more prudent to omit the usual courtesies” the scientist said, looking a little guilty. “I have written Dr. de Carvalho a letter, thanking him for his great kindness and invaluable help, which I hope you will give him yourself, once I have left. And I deposited a week’s fees in the office.”

  “Good gracious!” Julia repeated.

  On this occasion they arrived before the plane—sky and sea were alike empty, in the cold pale light before sunrise, as they topped the hill and dropped down to Porto Novo; and there was still no sign of the little jet when Julia drew up at the airport building. Sir Percy got out, and consulted his watch with a worried expression; Julia got out too.

  “It’s not ten to seven yet” she said, glancing at the clock on the front of the building. “Sir Percy, can I have a word with you? Colin can see to the luggage.”

  Rather reluctantly, he followed her, glancing back doubtfully towards his suitcases. “Colin is in Intelligence, you know—he’s quite accustomed to security” she added, laughing.

  At that he laughed a little too. “Was there something you wished to say to me?” he asked.

  “Yes. Shall you be seeing Major Hartley and the people at the Office when you get home?”

  “Certainly.” He looked surprised.

  “Well, will you make it clear to them that they owe the successful outcome of this enterprise to my cousin?”

  “To Mr. Monro? You ask me to say this?”

  “Yes, I do. If he hadn’t come, none of this would have happened. I want you to rub it into them, hard, that this was his job, and his success. It’s true about everything that wasn’t pure luck, and it is more important than you can know.”

  He looked at her in silence for a moment. At last—“Anything you ask me to do, I will do” he said slowly.

  “Thank you. I rely on you” she said. “Oh, there is one other thing.”

  “What is that?”

  “When you’ve emptied that lead-lined tin, do you think you could have it sealed up again and sent back to me?”

  He looked doubtful. “This might be difficult” he said. “Of course my—er—people will deal with the contents, but I imagine Intelligence will want the container itself as—well, as Exhibit A in the documentation of this particular Russian performance. May I ask why you want it?”

  “Oh yes—for the little boy who picked it up; he’s longing for it, and I promised to get it for him. His mother will tell him she gave it to me, and I shall feel such a traitor! After all, Intelligence owes quite a bit to him.”

  “They do indeed!” he said, with a smile suddenly warm and charming. “Our youngest ally! Yes, I will certainly do what I can. Would a replica do?”

  “Perfectly—if it’s a fairly ex
act replica. It’s for a child, remember, and a peasant child at that; they notice everything.”

  “I will do my best” he said.

  As they walked back towards the building a hum suddenly filled the air, and grew into a roar as the small jet made a couple of turns over the sea, and then came in to land. “Oh, the letter for the doctor!” Julia said, as the machine taxied to a halt.

  “Ah yes!” He gave it to her. “And please make my profound apologies to the good doctor; I am truly grateful to him.”

  The pilot got out and chatted with the airport officials, while two small tank-wagons were moved out to re-fuel the machine. Sir Percy went over to him.

  “Oh, good morning, Captain. Can I go on board?”

  “Not till we’ve filled her up, sir. Have you had a good time?”

  “Yes, most agreeable, thank you. Can my luggage be put on board?”

  “When we’ve filled her up” the pilot said equably. Julia watched with amusement poor Sir Percy fretting and fussing for the next twenty minutes; but at last the bowsers were moved away, the luggage was put on board, the pilot and the co-pilot took their seats, Sir Percy got in and waved, and the plane rose, made two turns, and skimmed away.

  “Good!” Colin said. “Now for Hartley. Come along—it’s just about time.”

  “Time for what?” Julia asked, as she followed him into the building.

  “My call. I put in a fixed-time one last night.” He led her into an office, where he asked one of the airport officials for his call to London; in less than two minutes the man handed him the receiver—Julia, standing at his side, could actually hear the Major’s resonant “Colin?”

  “Yes. All airborne. So you can give them the green light at the place I spoke of at once. Has Henry got everything laid on?”

  “Yes, they’re all standing by at the airport; they’re sending some of their own people—top ones, I gather.”