‘No it isn’t, silly,’ he smiled. ‘It is only good-morning.’
As they kissed another knock came on the door, and ‘Madame’s’ voice called, ‘Breakfast will be ready in about five minutes, Monsieur.’
‘Merci, Madame,’ he called back, and they broke their embrace; but, seeing that her left hand had made the right side of his face soapy, Christina picked up a towel and began gently to wipe it. As she did so, she murmured: ‘What a good thing that I didn’t mess up the other side. Your poor eye still looks awfully tender.’
‘If it is not too repulsive a sight, a kiss on it might help to make it well,’ he suggested.
As soon as he had spoken he regretted his words. Christina went scarlet, exclaimed, ‘How horrid of you to make me remember!’ and throwing down the towel, ran limping from the room.
Down on the terrace he found his mother, C.B. and Malouet already assembled; but it was some time before Christina joined them, and when she did he saw that she had been crying. During the first part of the meal she was very silent; then gradually she seemed to forget the episode that had caused her such distress, and responded more readily to the questions Malouet put to her.
Although the previous afternoon now seemed days away to all of them, it was not yet twenty-four hours since C.B. had left London, and so far he had had no opportunity to hear Christina’s own version of her story; so when the meal was finished he asked her, for his own benefit as well as Malouet’s, to tell them all she could about her life from the beginning.
It took her the best part of an hour, and while there was nothing new to Molly and John in her account, when she had done both the old Frenchman and C.B. agreed with their view, that she was suffering from possession. As John had expected, none of the others would listen to her when she announced that she had decided to return to England; so he felt that he could leave it to their united firmness to dissuade her. They all pointed out in turn that the worst that was likely to happen to her while she remained in France was that the de Grasses might yet succeed in kidnapping her; whereas a far graver danger would threaten her once she had crossed the channel; so it would be absurd for her to go to meet it voluntarily, when they might be able to save her from it altogether.
As she proved very stubborn, a prolonged wrangle ensued, but eventually their various arguments based on the same theme took effect and she agreed to stay on, at least until after the 6th, which appeared to be the target date for whatever was being hatched against her.
However, out of her wish not to expose her friends to further trouble and danger, one new factor of considerable importance had arisen. Previously she had been adamant in her determination that her father should not be informed of what was happening to her, in case any communication by her should jeopardise his own plans; whereas now she had conceded that he was ultimately responsible for her safety as well as his own, and had proposed to go home and tell him what had happened herself. From this it followed that she no longer had any real grounds for objecting to anyone else doing so.
At first she protested, but both Malouet and C.B. pointed out that her father alone held the key to the mystery that surrounded her, and that it was not only unreasonable, but now also illogical, for her to insist on their fighting her battle for her in the dark. C.B. proposed that he should return to England that afternoon, and on his promising to use the utmost discretion in getting in touch with her father, she was persuaded to agree.
The next question was how best to protect her from further attempts by the de Grasses to get hold of her until C.B. returned and, having found out what they were really up against, some new plan could be made.
‘Couldn’t we stymie the de Grasses by bringing an action against them for kidnapping and assault?’ Molly asked.
Malouet shook his head. ‘I would not advise it, Madame. That is why, having made use of our good friend Sergeant Bouvet, I temporised with, and got rid of, him. Mademoiselle went on board the yacht willingly and your son clandestinely. Although they were both forcibly detained later, you may be sure that none of the crew would give evidence to that effect. There is the fact, too, that your son knocked out one of the officers who was quite rightly asking what business he had on board. That renders his position most precarious, and would certainly lead to a counter prosecution if we started anything. They are very averse to having the police enquire into their affairs; so I think it most unlikely they will bring an action against him. On the other hand, I am equally strongly of the opinion that he may get into serious trouble unless we let sleeping dogs lie.’
Thinking of the Marquis with a bullet in his shoulder, John remarked, ‘In view of the rough handling we managed to give them before we escaped from the château, I should have thought there was quite a good chance that they may feel they have had enough of this affair. After all, they are only acting as agents; so they may quite well decide that the game is no longer worth the candle, and throw their hand in.’
‘Perhaps.’ Malouet pulled thoughtfully at his long moustache. ‘The sum they were offered was a thousand pounds, was it not? That would not mean very much to M. le Marquis, and you will note that he has hardly appeared in this matter himself. That the sailing of the yacht was delayed for him last night suggests that his reason for going to the Ile de Port Cros had no connection with Mademoiselle. It seems probable that from the beginning he regarded the matter as small game, and so handed it over to Count Jules. M. le Comte may, as you suggest, now feel that it has become too troublesome a way of earning the amount concerned; but I think we should be most unwise to assume that.’
‘Besides,’ C.B. glanced at John, ‘No one likes being made a monkey of; and, the money apart, your having got the best of Jules may now have made him hopping-mad to get his own back on you. In any case it is up to us to take all the precautions we would if we were certain that he meant to have another crack.’
John admitted that his idea had been prompted by unreasoning optimism, and said that he did not mean to suggest for one moment that they should relax their vigilance in guarding Christina. They then reverted to their discussion about what to do with her.
It was obvious that her own villa and Molly’s were no longer safe; and Malouet thought that if they took her to any hotel upon the Riviera there was a strong probability that the de Grasses’s grapevine would soon locate her; so there would then be an immediate renewal of the risk that they would again succeed in luring her away. To form a more accurate estimate of that risk, he asked her to tell them again in more detail how Jules had managed to do so the previous night, and exactly what her feelings had been while she was with him.
Looking at Molly, she said, ‘You will remember that when John and I came in I spent only a few minutes downstairs being introduced to Colonel Verney; then I went up to my room to arrange my things. Darkness had fallen some time before I had finished and began to think of changing for dinner. It wasn’t until I had had my bath that the thought of the frock I was going to wear came into my mind. I had brought over rather a quiet little thing, and I decided that I should look much nicer in a red and silver affair that I bought just before I left Paris; so I slipped on my day dress again and went over to my villa to fetch it.
‘I put it with its etceteras into a small suitcase, and had just left the house when I met Jules coming up the garden path. He told me that he was on his way back from Cannes to St Tropez with a friend, and felt that he must just look in to see if I had quite recovered from my attack on the previous night. By then we had walked back to the sitting-room, and although I had only fruit-juices I felt that I ought to offer him a drink. Rather to my surprise, he accepted, and naturally I had one with him.
‘Perhaps he slipped something into mine when I was not looking. I couldn’t say for certain. All I know is that after I had finished my drink I felt a little muzzy; and I don’t remember anything more very clearly until I found myself sitting with him in the back of a big car. A chauffeur was driving it, and with him in front there was a grey-h
aired man wearing a yachting cap, whom I later heard them call Chopin.
‘By that time we were halfway to St Tropez; and, although no mention was actually made of it, I was subconsciously aware that I had already agreed to dine with Jules in the yacht. I had the sort of light-headed, irresponsible feeling that I get at such times, and was rather amused at the thought that you and John would wonder what had happened to me. In fact, far from having any sense of guilt at my rudeness in going off without a word, I felt that I had played quite a clever trick in slipping away; and when the car drew up alongside the yacht I went on board without any suspicion that I was running into danger.
‘Temporarily, the memory of my resistance to Jules’s previous attempts to get me on to the yacht was entirely obliterated. To dine on board was a novel experience for me, and I thoroughly enjoyed it—apart from one petty annoyance. That was the discomfort caused me by John’s ring. It was not only physical discomfort, owing to a strange heat that it seemed to be generating, but that tied up in some way with a growing mental uneasiness, vaguely suggesting that, although I was enjoying myself, I was playing with fire.
‘But it was not till John actually appeared on the scene that I was seriously disturbed. Then I suddenly found myself a prey to violently conflicting emotions. One half of me intensely resented his intrusion; the other demanded that I should do whatever he told me to. I felt like that all the time he was fighting Jules, but the moment he knocked Jules out the tension disappeared. I knew then without a shadow of doubt that John had come to save me from something terrible, and that at all costs I must get away with him.’
For a moment they were silent, then C.B. said, ‘That is interesting about the ring. Don’t take it off whatever you do.’
Malouet shrugged. ‘It is a strange phenomenon and one of which I have never previously heard; but clearly it is not sufficient to protect her. I wonder if M. le Comte did slip anything into the fruit drink? I think he must have, as how else can we account for her sudden muzziness followed by a lapse of memory lasting some twenty minutes?’
‘I don’t think the point is of much importance,’ C.B. rejoined, giving his big nose a quick rub. ‘In my view the crux of the matter lies in Christina’s sudden impulse to wear a more striking frock. It was that which got her out of the house, and it was followed by another—to ask Jules into her villa, instead of threatening to shout for help unless he cleared off. Those two mental processes taken in conjunction show that she was being influenced by some occult force to her own detriment before Jules even had a chance to open his mouth, let alone dope her drink.’
‘I am sure you are right,’ Molly agreed, ‘and it is that which sets us such a problem in devising means for her protection. All I can suggest is that we should go to some small hotel, and that she should share a room with me. I should be on hand then to counter these dangerous impulses, and at least that would make it much more difficult for anyone to get at her.’
‘It would certainly be a big help,’ C.B. conceded. ‘But I’m afraid even an arrangement of that kind would be far from watertight. You see, I consider it certain that the Satanists who are interested in Christina are having her overlooked from time to time by means of a crystal. That is how they know the right moment to send out a thought wave which gives her a certain impulse—such as that which led to her going across to her own villa last night just as Jules was due to come up the garden path. If you come into the picture they will try to work on you too.’
‘Then they won’t have much luck,’ declared Molly truculently.
‘Don’t you be too certain of that. They are much too clever to try to make you do anything abnormal, but they might get at you in ways you would never suspect. You have got to sleep sometime; so they would send waves of sleep at you in the hope that you would drop off and leave them a free field with her. Even if you managed to keep awake all night, I am sure you would find it difficult to remain with Christina for every moment between dusk and dawn; and if they could succeed in separating you from her for only a few minutes that might prove enough for them to get her away altogether. Then, occult forces apart, if Jules has his dander up he may try a kidnap. Remember, he came with a pal and a driver last night, which shows he was prepared to use violence if he did not find Christina open to suggestion.’
‘Well, can you think of any better plan?’
‘Not for the moment. I feel sure that it was Christina being overlooked that enabled the Canon to discover her first hiding-place so quickly. For that reason I don’t think it would help if you took her off to Lyons or Genoa. He would soon locate her and offer some local gang the thousand quid to do a snatch. Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t, and we do know the de Grasses; so I think it would be wiser to keep her down here. I was only pointing out the sort of thing you and John may find yourselves up against while acting as her guardians.’
‘How about pretending she has had a nervous breakdown and putting her temporarily into a private mental home?’ John suggested. ‘The nurses and porters in such places would never allow a patient to walk out in the middle of the night.’
C.B. shook his head. ‘You are wrong there, John. We could not tell them that we had put her there to prevent her being kidnapped; so it would be easy to distract their attention. Our unknown enemy would have her out of a place like that in no time.’
‘I could have solved the problem for you had the war still been on,’ smiled Malouet. ‘At times, when the pace was getting too hot for some key man in the Resistance, we used to pretend to mistake him for an habitual criminal, pick him up under the criminal’s name, fake a charge against him and pop him inside. The Boche never got wise to our using the prisons as hiding-places, and as soon as the hue and cry died down we let our friend escape. If only we could put Mademoiselle behind bars for a few days, neither the de Grasses nor a score of Satanists would be able to get her out. But unfortunately for our present business, it is no longer possible to commit a person on a false charge.’
John was sitting beside Christina. He gave her a swift glance, then took Upson’s pistol from his pocket and showed it to her under the table. She nodded; so he said to Malouet: ‘What would happen, Monsieur, if I had shot somebody through the shoulder last night, and now surrendered myself at a police station, confessing what I had done?’
‘They would take you into custody pending an enquiry.’
‘And then?’
‘Presumably the person you had shot would come forward and charge you with having caused him grievous bodily harm.’
‘Say that for his own reasons he preferred not to bring a charge and denied that anything of the kind had happened?’
‘Then you would be discharged as a harmless lunatic’
‘Say he did bring a charge? I take it that in spite of my confession I should still be entitled to plead that I shot my man in self-defence?’
‘Certainly; and if you could bring a reliable witness to swear to that, or even sound circumstantial evidence in support of your plea, the probability is that a verdict would be given in your favour. That, too, would be rendered all the more likely through your having surrendered yourself in the first place.’
Again John looked at Christina, and again she nodded. He laid the pistol on the table, and said, ‘Then Christina and I propose that she should give herself up for having shot the Marquis de Grasse with that soon after half-past three this morning.’
His announcement created quite a stir. At first the others would not believe that it was Christina who had used the weapon; but John gave them the true version of The Fight in The Château, and Christina filled in some of its more lurid details herself. Their account was so vivid that it carried conviction, and when they had done Molly exclaimed, with an envious glance at Christina: ‘Oh, you lucky girl! What wouldn’t I give to have had such an experience.’
‘Her luck is that she didn’t kill him,’ commented C.B. grimly. ‘If she had, she could not possibly escape being tried for murder; and as
she went on the yacht willingly, even a plea of self-defence might not have saved her from a nasty sentence for manslaughter.’
‘Nevertheless, I congratulate Mademoiselle on her courage.’ Old Malouet made her a courtly little bow. ‘And I am sure this will enable me to arrange matters. We will not, I think, make use of our friend Sergeant Bouvet at St Tropez. It will be better if I take you in to Nice, as I am more intimate with many of the officials there; so can make certain that you have every comfort that is allowed during your stay in prison.’
‘Thank you,’ said Christina. ‘You are very kind. Going to prison is a far from pleasant prospect, but it certainly seems the best idea for my protection, and I am sure you will do your utmost to make it as little disagreeable for me as possible. How long do you think they will keep me there?’
‘Today is Thursday, the 4th. Should M. le Marquis decide to charge you, the case could not come up for a first hearing before Monday. You would then be remanded while the lawyer we should find for you prepared your defence, and we could get you out on bail—if that was thought desirable—until you had to come up for trial. But, as I have already said, I think it very unlikely that the de Grasses will wish to have their affairs gone into in open court. Should M. le Marquis say that you shot him by accident and fled in panic afterwards, as he probably will, you will be released; but again, not before Monday, as once having been taken into custody you must be formally discharged by a magistrate. So in either case you will remain in prison over the weekend. And that is the important thing, for Saturday the 6th appears to be the critical date by which your enemies wish to get you to England.’
Christina gave a rueful smile. ‘My birthdays have never meant very much to me, but all the same it seems a bit hard that I should have to spend my twenty-first in prison.’
‘What’s that?’ exclaimed C.B. ‘D’you mean that you will be twenty-one on the 6th? If so, that may be very important. Why didn’t you tell us so before?’
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