The Malady in Maderia

by Ann Bridge

  “Good. Well, tell Henry I shall wait for them at the airport here—oh, and he’d better get them to ring up and have a police car sent out to take us where we want to go.”

  “What’s happened to your own transport?” Hartley asked.

  “I’m using it for another purpose” Colin said blandly. “It’s borrowed, anyhow, and not nearly big enough. Make Henry do that thing—we don’t want to waste any time.”

  “O.K.” Hartley said cheerfully. “ ’Bye.”

  “Now what?” Julia asked; she was feeling pleased at Colin’s firm words to the Major.

  “Come outside” he said; he thanked the official, paid for his call, and saying—“I return in two instants,” went out with Julia onto the tarmac. They sat in the car. Colin lit a cigarette for her, but refused one himself.

  “The next thing is de Carvalho” he said. “As you heard, I’m waiting here to meet the Lisbon people, but he must be put in the picture before these P.I.D.E. types arrive. Most tactless of Sir Percy, rushing off without even saying goodbye or thank you!— silly old puffin, I can’t think why he wanted to make such a cloak-and-dagger performance over leaving.”

  “Just being inexperienced, and therefore bad, about our sort of work” Julia said tolerantly. “But it was very rude and silly of him, I agree.”

  “Yes. Well, you’ll just have to do the best you can with the doctor,” Colin said gloomily. “I’m sorry to put this onto you, but it’s the only way, and he’ll probably take it better from you than from me, even if there was time.”

  “How much can I tell him?”

  “The lot!—he deserves it. And it will all have to come out now; he must know where he stands when he meets the crowd from Lisbon.”

  “Oh, is he to meet them? What do you actually do first? Pounce on the Spaniards?”

  “That’s up to Portuguese Security now—thank goodness Hartley arranged for them to come right away! But I imagine they’ll want to see the doctor.”

  “Will he want to see them? Isn’t that rather the point, when he’s done so much, and been so nice? I mean, he’s got nothing to contribute in the way of evidence except the report on the sheep’s blood, and about the boy’s condition; the actual witnesses to the crime are—”

  “Well, who are they?” Colin interrupted.

  “You and I, and of course Terence. I’d better let him know what goes on too, hadn’t I?”

  “Yes, you must. In fact you’d better get cracking, darling.” He kissed her, and got out of the car. “Breeze off! Good luck with the doctor. Oh, find out if he does want to see the P.I.D.E. people; I’ll look in, or ring up, and ask.”

  “Right.” She started the engine and drove off.

  Oh her way back to Funchal Julia wondered a little about getting hold of Dr. de Carvalho; if he was busy with his patients, how was she to extract him from his morning routine? She need not have worried. After parking the car, even as she entered the clinic she could hear his voice, raised in loud reproof to his wretched orderlies—“You allow one of my patients to leave, with his luggage, without informing me? Are those your orders? Is this in accordance with my rules?”

  She hurried in. De Carvalho was standing in the door of his office; the two orderlies stood by, cringing.

  “Dear Doctor, may I see you for a moment?” she said, going up to him. He rounded on her.

  “Indeed you may! I am told that it was you who drove Sir Paircy away. Is this the famous polidez Inglesa?” the doctor asked angrily.

  “No—it was an inexcusable rudeness” she said calmly, “on the part of a nervous old man. I bring you his apologies—and also some quite important news. But this I can only tell you when we are alone.”

  “Very well—come in.” He waved the orderlies off with a gesture, and shut the door. “Now, what is the explanation of this extraordinary behaviour?” he asked. “Pray be seated” he added.

  “Thank you.” Julia sat down. “Sir Percy has hurried back to England because he wanted to take a sample of the gas which he had received to Porton immediately” she said.

  “A sample of the gas! How came he by this?”

  “I brought it to him” Julia said, smiling. “The little boy picked it up on the plateau the day he was gassed, and took it home; when I went to see him yesterday he asked me to get it from his mother—he called it his cofrezinho.”

  “Ah, this famous cofrezinho!—yes, I have heard him asking the Sister for it. But how do you know that it contained a concentrate of the gas?”

  “I didn’t know—but when the child told me where he found it, and when, I guessed that it might. So I drove down and asked his mother for it. Of course when my cousin and Sir Percy saw the container they knew at once what it was.”

  “How?”

  “There was some Russian lettering on it; and it was so heavy for its size that they realised it must be lined with lead.”

  “Yes, naturally.” He seemed to reflect for a moment. “When did you give this to Sir Paircy?” he asked sharply.

  “Yesterday evening— after you had shown him the reports from Paris” Julia said carefully.

  “Nevertheless, I was available! He could have let me see it at any time last night. He concealed it from me!—deliberately” the Portuguese said, quite indignantly.

  “Doctor de Carvalho, my cousin at least thought that it might be embarrassing for you to know too much about this discovery, too soon” she said soothingly. “You have shown us so much consideration, and kindness, that he wished to avoid that.”

  “But why leave so early?—and without a word of farewell?”

  “That, as I have said, was inexcusable—and I had no idea that he meant to do so.”

  “Not that he was leaving? But you come to fetch him!”

  “To take him to his plane—yes. But I did not know till we were on the road that he had failed to bid you goodbye, and thank you, himself. This shocked me. By the way, he asked me to give you this letter, as well as his apologies and his warm thanks” —and she handed over Sir Percy’s missive.

  With an abrupt “Vous permettez?” the doctor opened it, and read it rapidly through. At the end—“Well, he writes a good letter; very persuasive, and very discreet!” he said, with a return to something of his old cheerful irony. “He hints that I might not have felt able to preserve what he calls ’my tactful silence’ in the face of such concrete evidence!” his white and gold teeth flashed at her in a grin—“though he is careful to give no indication of what this evidence was.”

  “No, he was terrified of possibly getting involved with the police, or any form of officialdom” Julia said, relieved. “And when you have heard the rest, you may feel that it would have been difficult for you not to inform the police.”

  “The rest? What more has he discovered?”

  Julia told him, then, about overhearing the two Spaniards at her hotel, their filming activities on the plateau, and Colin’s discovery of the radio transceiver in their car. De Carvalho became very excited.

  “For this, the police must be called in!” he exclaimed. “These recordings should be secured at all costs.”

  “Oh, I got those last night” Julia said.

  “You got them? How?”

  “I went with old Porfirio and searched their room while the Spanish boys were out.”

  “But how did you get into their room? Ah, the niece, of course!” He began to grin again. “The old Porfirio shall have enjoyed this expedition!” he said. “And where are the films now?”

  “On their way to London, with Sir Percy.”

  “Pena! I should have liked to see them.” He paused. “But these two Spaniards must be arrested too, before they have a chance to escape—I should alert the police!” He got up hastily.

  “The P.I.D.E. are on their way from Lisbon; they should be at Santa Cruz any minute now” Julia said, looking at her watch. “My cousin is waiting at the airport to meet them, and tell them what has been going on.”

  “But why do they come, if t
hey do not yet know?”

  “Oh, that was arranged through London. They’ve been told enough to bring them! By the way, would you like to see them when they come?”

  “Of course I should like to see them! And they should see the child.”

  “All right. Mr. Monro said he would ring you up and ask. They may go to the hotel first, to pounce on those Spaniards” Julia said, as the doctor showed signs of getting up again.

  “But how will they get here from the airport? They have no car.”

  “Lisbon was being told to send a police car out from Funchal to meet them.”

  De Carvalho sank back into his chair with a brief harsh laugh.

  “Your English organisation is very efficient! You leave nothing to chance” he said, rather wryly.

  “If one leaves nothing to chance, chance sometimes favours one” she said. “Look at the luck we have had here!—your knowing all about nerve gases, and then being so kind and putting up my cousin and Sir Percy; my happening to overhear what those Spanish accomplices were up to—to say nothing of the child bringing down a tin of gas!”

  “Yes—you have been greatly favoured by fortune. On the other hand you have made very prompt use of the favours she gave you! But it occurs to me that as regards our Security Police, you—or rather Sir Percy—may have been almost too prompt. Will they not wish to see Sir Percy, and hear his evidence?—and see the container of the gas concentrate? And also the film?”

  “If wishes were horses, beggars would ride!” Julia said, making a rapid translation of that homely, and so English, proverb into French—the doctor laughed.

  “No, but since all these things are now out of their reach,” De Carvalho pursued, “might it not be wiser to direct their attention principally to those matters with which they can concern themselves—the sheep, the child, the presence of the Spanish spies and the trawler, all of which are available?”

  “Do you mean suppress all mention of Sir Percy and the rest of it?” Julia looked startled.

  “Well, at least not bring him into the foreground. They can be a little—sensitive—about their prerogatives.”

  “Oh well, they’re your fellow-countrymen!” Julia said. “But in that case I’d better have a word with my cousin, if I can catch him in time, and tell him to keep Sir Percy and all that part dark. May I use the telephone?”

  “I have one in here” the doctor said; he opened a door in some bookshelves, and led her into a very small room with a telephone in it. He got the number for her, asked for the officer in charge, and handed her the receiver. Julia asked for the Senhor Monro, and gave her name—in a moment Colin answered.

  “Yes, what is it? They’re just coming in to land.”

  “Oh well, the doctor has had an idea—to pipe down about Sir P. and everything he’s taken with him, till he’s seen the people you’re expecting himself. . . . Yes, he would like to see them. . . . Well, he thinks it would be better that way; they might be froissés by the removal of Exhibits A and B. I should leave it till you come in here. . . . No, I haven’t spoken to him yet; I’m going to now. . . . Yes, all going fine. . . . No, no trouble with him. ’Bye.”

  After ringing off Julia put her head out of the door, but the doctor’s study was empty; she closed it again and rang up the Quinta. Penelope answered.

  “Oh, is Terence there?” Julia asked.

  “No, he’s gone to the office early—he wanted to make up for lost time!” Penelope said, but quite amiably.

  “I’m not surprised!” Julia said. “Oh well, never mind.”

  “How’s Ag?” Mrs. Armitage asked.

  “Under sedation—and in Nannie Mack’s care.”

  “I think she ought to see a doctor” Penelope said, decidedly.

  “Oh, she has. Pauline got him in last night.”

  “What, de Carvalho?”

  “No, the old Scotch one close by.”

  “Oh, old Urquhart! Well, he’s not very up-to-date, but I expect he’s better than nothing. What does he say?”

  “I haven’t seen him” Julia said. “But I know he gave her a strongish sedative. Goodbye, Penelope.” She rang off rather abruptly; she didn’t want to waste too much energy on parrying Mrs. Armitage’s rather cassant questions. She rang the Shipping Office and asked for the Senhor Armitage—he had not yet arrived. Julia decided to go down and try to see him; that would be better than guarded hints on the telephone. She went out and spoke to the elderly male secretary, asking him to tell the Senhor Doctor that she had gone out for a short time, but would return.

  The Shipping Office was so close that as before she left her car in the care of the doorman, and set off on foot, in the bright early sunshine, through quiet streets where flowering trees and creepers showed over the walls. But charming as Funchal’s streets are, they have their dangers; the small nut-sized cobbles of the steep pavements are exceedingly slippery, especially when walking downhill—the prudent wear rubber-soled shoes if they are going to walk any distance. Julia was not wearing rubber soles, and presently her feet went out from under her, and down she came, hitting her right elbow hard—the pain was so sharp and sickening that she had to sit on a step till it passed off; then she pushed on, hoping she had broken nothing. At the office Terence had arrived, and she was promptly shown up to his office.

  “Hullo, what’s the matter?” he asked as she came in. “You look awfully ill.”

  “Oh, it’s nothing—I fell and hit my elbow.”

  “Have you had anything to eat?” he asked, with concern.

  “Come to think of it, I haven’t yet” she said.

  “Julia, you are mad!” He telephoned and ordered coffee; then he sat down opposite her. “What on earth are you doing, out at this hour? and breakfastless?”

  “Well, first I was taking Sir Percy to the airport, and then I came back to soothe de Carvalho’s troubled breast” Julia said.

  “Goodness me, has Sir Percy cleared off? Why on earth?”

  “He’s got what he came for” Julia said.

  “What, those thermometer recordings?”

  “Plus a good bit more. The reports on the sheep’s blood came in yesterday, and the doctor gave him copies of those; and I managed to collect what I think are the films those boys were taking of the sheep—and best of all, he’s got a sample of the actual stuff they used to make the gas.”

  “It’s not possible!” Terence said, incredulously. Then, as she nodded—“Where on earth did he find that?”

  “It was in Carmen’s kitchen!” Julia said; she began to laugh at his astonished expression, and told him, then, of the little boy’s begging her to bring him his cofrezinho, and how she had collected it the previous afternoon.

  “So when I told you to produce a deus ex machina, you’d got it all the time!” Terence said.

  “Well, the machine part, yes. But that put Sir Percy into a fearful tizzy; he was determined to get it back to England at once, and rang for a plane, and left this morning, gas and films and all, just after seven.”

  At this point the coffee was brought; Terence poured her out a cup—“Yes, masses of sugar, please” Julia said; she took several sips, thankfully. “That’s marvellous” she said.

  “Go on, when you’re ready, and tell me why the doctor’s breast needed soothing” Terence said.

  “Oh well, that silly old puff was so petrified of getting held up in any way that he wouldn’t let de Carvalho know about any of this till he was airborne; he even slipped away this morning without saying goodbye,” Julia said.

  “Really? That was rather crass—I shouldn’t have expected it of him” Terence remarked thoughtfully. “But why did the doctor have to be told at once, before you got some breakfast?”

  “Because he’s been so frightfully decent and kind, for one thing” Julia said warmly—“putting them up, and keeping quiet to his local authorities while Sir Percy made all his recordings. Now he simply had to know what’s going on because of the Special Police coming.”

  “
The Special Police? D’you mean from Lisbon? When are they coming?”

  “They must be on their way in from Santa Cruz now. Colin told London to get our Lisbon people to lay them on last night, and they were standing by over there till they got word. He rang London from the airport as soon as Sir Percy and his precious specimens were airborne—he’d put in a fixed-time call overnight.”

  Terence began to laugh; and went on laughing for some time. “What’s so funny?” Julia asked, almost laughing herself. “Only the way you and your crowd go about things! I can’t think why spy-books are called ’cloak-and-dagger’ stuff—’plane and telephone’ would be much nearer the mark” Terence said. “But did you say Sir Percy had got the films the Spaniards had taken of the sheep? How in the world did he—or you—get hold of those?”

  “Oh, that was heaven Porfirio! Sir Percy and Colin said I mustn’t stay on at the Montefiore with them there, and then Sir Percy said I mustn’t even go back alone—so I fetched Porfirio as an escort. Of course it was no good either Sir Percy or Colin coming, because that might have roused the boys’ suspicions, as they know them both by sight. And then on the way Porfirio told me. . . .”

  “His niece!” Terence interrupted her. “Don’t tell me she let you go and raid their room?”

  “She didn’t want to—the old fellow made her. But when she saw what I’d found among their clothes she led me to the main haul, hidden in the clothes-basket.”

  “All this while the thugs were having dinner, of course.”

  “No—I’m not sure I’d have risked that. They’d gone out for the evening, luckily. So I just dropped the stuff on Sir Percy, and that was that.”

  “And where did you sleep” Terence asked merrily—he seemed to find all this a huge joke.

  “Up at the Serra.”

  “Oh.” The man’s expression changed. “Did you see Ag?” he asked.

  “No. Pauline got that old Dr. Urquhart in, and he gave her some terrific sedative injection, which knocked her out flat.” “Poor child” he said sombrely.

  “Yes. But that can wait” Julia said briskly. “The thing now is to do something about da Silva.” “What are we to do about him?”