The Numbered Account (30 page)

Julia did this after a couple of sips—she was boiling over with her information.

‘On the
Drei Pässe
tour!' Antrobus exclaimed. ‘How ingenious!'

‘Why?'

‘Because on that trip the bus makes five halts: on the top of the Grimsel, on the top of the Furka; a long stop at Andermatt for lunch, a pause again on the top of the Süsten-Pass, and finally all the more energetic passengers get out at the upper end of the Aares-Schlucht, to walk through it and be picked up again at the bottom—after having coffee and buying picture post-cards. So there's a vast choice of places for a brief-case to change hands in.'

‘What's the Aares-Schlucht? And why should one walk through it?'

‘Oh, it's a “sight”. In fact it is rather spectacular. The Aar runs through a very narrow gorge between vertical or even overhanging limestone cliffs three hundred feet high or more, and the water races along between them frighteningly fast—in fact everything about it is rather frightening, especially those unclimbable walls.'

‘How does one walk, then? Is there a beach?' Julia asked, with her usual practicality.

‘No, there's no beach. To exploit the place the ingenious Swiss have built a little sort of gallery-path all through it, fastened to the rock on steel brackets, thirty feet or so above the water; it's barely a yard wide—no place for people who easily get giddy.'

‘I think it sounds horrible. Let's hope the other side have bad heads for heights! Not that that would worry Colin—he was always one for peering over the edges of towers, and climbing cliffs.'

The waitress came to take their order; when she had gone Antrobus said—‘I must get hold of Colin and pass this on. Your little creature has done us quite a good turn this time.'

‘Did he find you all right this morning?'

‘Oh yes. But he was fairly sour.'

‘Why?'

‘That's what I was going to ask you. Is he in love with you?'

Julia laughed out so loudly that heads turned in their direction.

‘Don't make so much noise!' Antrobus said, with a hint of irritation. ‘What's the joke?'

‘Only that he's engaged to Aglaia Armitage! I'm sorry, John—but he really can't be “J.” about you and me.'

‘Was he never in love with you? That seems unlikely.'

‘Yes, I suppose a bit, when he was finishing with Eton and I was a pre-deb. But it was much more that we were tremendous muckers, and did everything together, as we had ever since we were small children. Anyhow all that is as dead as mutton,' the girl said airily. She paused, thinking. ‘Listen; June said another thing—that B. and W. always carry revolvers. Has Colin got one?'

‘I shouldn't think so—no. They're such a nuisance at the Customs; draw attention, and all that.'

‘Well when he goes along on this tour I think he ought to have one. Can you supply?'

‘Not myself—I don't carry one either. It isn't done, normally. But I can get him one from Berne, I expect.'

‘In time? Do you know when this bus starts?'

‘Yes. 7.30 a.m. from the Fluss, and then it wanders round the other hotels, picking up passengers. I shouldn't think it would bother with anything as small as the Bear; I expect B. and K. will board it at one of the big places like the Victoria.'

‘Then he ought to have it tonight,' Julia said anxiously. ‘He'll have to come down to sleep here anyhow, to be in time. Can you fix that?'

‘Yes. If you'll excuse me for a moment I'll go and telephone at once—then it should be here by tea-time.'

While he was doing this the Brienzerli arrived, and Julia began on them—no sense in letting them get cold. When Antrobus returned and started on his cold trout he said—‘You do fuss about Colin, don't you? Are you still in love with him?'

‘Oh don't be such a clot, John. That was practically in our infancy! And would anyone of my age stay in love with someone who wasn't in love with them?' She said this with complete sincerity, but even as she spoke a little pang of anxiety struck at her heart. If Antrobus wasn't in love with her, and she couldn't be sure, would she be able to stop falling more and more in love with him?

His answer was not altogether reassuring.

‘It's been known to happen,' he said, with his rather twisted smile. ‘Look at the wretched Baron de Charlus and Odette.' Julia nodded—she remembered that agonising infatuation. ‘Anyhow I don't know what your age is.'

‘Do you want to guess? No, I hate any rubbish about one's age. I'm 28.'

‘You're so
posée
, and have so much expertise that I should have given you 30. But clearly you'll be quite as beautiful at 45 as you are now; you have bones and eyes, which don't change, as well as your fantastic colouring.'

This was in a way more open than anything he had said yet, and Julia's colouring promptly showed one of those modifications which so exasperated her. She changed the subject abruptly.

‘Couldn't we go too?'

‘Where? On the bus-tour?'

‘Well not in the bus. In your car, I thought—just follow on and be there at all these halts. You might ring Berne up again and indent for two more revolvers—“One for me, one for Moses, and one for Elias”!' she said irreverently. ‘I'd adore to go over those passes—I've read about them in Baedeker, and they sound too lovely.'

‘They are—I want very much to take you over them some time. But I'm not sure that tomorrow is quite the moment—we couldn't concentrate on the view and the flowers if we are keeping lynx eyes on B. and W. all the time.'

‘Oh.' Her dove's eyes mourned at him. ‘Oh, John, couldn't we do some of it?'

‘You beguiler! Yes, I think we might do a short run, anyhow; but I shall have to check with Berne and make sure that they don't want me to be here.'

‘Oh do do that.' Then another idea struck her. ‘How do you think B. and W. will react to June's having flitted? I saw them coming back from the police-station, and they looked frightfully soured—but of course they didn't know about June then. Do you suppose it will make them alter their plans?'

‘They can hardly do that at this stage. In their place I should be only too thankful to be relieved of such a liability as that little nitwit! She's served their turn, and ever since she can only have been an embarrassment, even before she started turning King's Evidence to you. But I daresay it will bother Mr. Borovali quite a bit. Did the hotel know that it was you who took her away?'

‘But of course. I even offered to pay her bill, because I didn't want her to lose all those frocks that were the main bribe; but Frau Göttinger wouldn't hear of it. She said “Herr de Ritter” had booked the rooms, and he could foot the bill.'

Antrobus laughed.

‘Good for her! How do you come to know her name?'

‘Oh, der Chrigl, the Beatenberg bus-driver, is her nephew—he told me.'

‘There you go again! You really ought to be employed whole-time. Why don't you apply?'

‘I don't need money except abroad, and I get quite a good business allowance for my papers, when I remember to put in for it. I was in too much of a hurry this time, racing out to take Watkins to Mrs. H.'

‘Watkins being the lady's-maid you mentioned at Geneva?'

‘Yes.' Julia was pleased that he should remember this detail from the conversation at the Palais des Nations. ‘But here is something else, while I think of it.'

‘More information?'

‘No.' She paused, considering how to present what she had to say. ‘Did you tell Berne about the bus-tour?' she asked.

‘Yes.' He looked a little surprised.

‘Were they pleased?'

‘Delighted. I was congratulated warmly on my “local sources”!' he said, smiling at her.

‘Fine. However, as you very well know, your local source is not me, but June Phillips,' Julia said, in a rather
cassant
tone.

‘My dear, so what? What's biting you?' he said, leaning
across the table towards her, plainly upset by her sudden change of manner.

‘Money,' Julia said firmly. ‘I know your people pay their local sources for “hard” information, and often for information that isn't hard at all—soft as putty, half the time. What is this rather crucial information about the bus-tour worth to Berne? What would they have paid a genuine “local source” for it?'

He stared at her in surprise, his expression slowly stiffening.

‘I have no idea,' he said, rather coldly.

‘Oh nonsense! Of course it's your business to have a very good idea,' Julia replied brusquely. ‘You are such a bad liar, John! Anyhow I want three hundred francs for it. Probably miles below the real tariff, but I think that should be enough for my need.'

‘May I know what your need is?' he asked, a little less coldly. ‘If you are really short of cash of course we can help you out; you have done a great deal for us. Merligen, and the Bear, and now this.'

‘And the photograph the police used,' Julia reminded him. ‘Personally I think three thousand francs would be much nearer the mark!'

‘I don't disagree. In fact it is hardly possible to put a cash value on what you have done in the last few weeks. Only I didn't realise that you wished it to be on this basis.' His tone was very cold indeed.

‘I shall slap you on both sides of your face if you make any more remarks like that,' Julia told him, in her slowest tones. ‘I hadn't realised that being offensive was in your repertoire at all.'

He blushed.

‘I do apologise. Pray forgive me. If I was offensive— and I see that I must have sounded so—it was because I am so taken by surprise at your raising the question of money.'

‘That's simply because you never use your imagination. Look—June Phillips, to whom the unutterable British Secret Service owes most of the information on which they
have been, and tomorrow will be, acting, has injured her ankle, which is her livelihood. She has got to see doctors, and they will have to be paid. I've paid Hertz's bill here —quite small—myself. But now she's gone to the de Ritters, who are as poor as the traditional Church mice, and I want three hundred francs—damn it, it's only twenty-five pounds!—to cover her medical expenses while she's with them. Isn't what she's given you worth that?'

‘Fully. Only you see she may be involved later in criminal proceedings.'

‘Well if you must be hateful,
be
hateful,' Julia said calmly. ‘Goodness, what a creature you are! Anyhow I'm not asking you to give it to her, only to me—the so useful intermediary.'

His grin appeared, again oddly accompanied by his fair man's blush.

‘How savage you can be! We both seem to be getting revelations about one another today.' He took his wallet from his pocket, counted out five 100-franc notes, and handed them to her across the table. ‘Will that cover your little criminal's medical expenses, do you think?'

‘Should do. Thank you very much.' She stowed the notes away in her bag, without the smallest embarrassment. ‘Well-earned,' she said.

‘Oh, Julia, you are fantastic! You appear so sophisticated, and then suddenly you go and behave as naturally as a charwoman!'

‘Nature is much better than sophistication, I think,' Julia said, tackling her veal; she was glad to have got the money for June's foot, and even more glad to have triumphed over Antrobus.

Presently this gentleman returned to the subject of Mr. Borovali.

‘We have an informant at the Bear,' he said. ‘I expect he will let me know what the reaction there is to your little friend's departure.'

‘If you mean Heinrich, the valet, he's practically a mental deficient! However, I daresay he'll get his facts from the chambermaid, who's quite bright, and I'm sure
like all chambermaids peeps and listens through keyholes.'

Antrobus laughed, but went on considering things from his own angle.

‘On the whole I don't think you had better go up to Beatenberg on the bus,' he said presently, as they drank their coffee. ‘If this driver happens to have called on his aunt for a free beer while he was down in the town, and hears that you carried that girl off, it might conceivably lead to complications—given the suspicions the Swiss police already entertain of you! And one never knows who is in whose pay.'

‘Thank God June is now in yours,' Julia said cheerfully, patting her handbag.

‘Oh really! Anyhow, why not take a taxi?'

‘To Beatenberg? It would cost the earth! Best of reasons why not. And please don't expect me to start embezzling Miss Phillips's salary, because I won't.'

He laughed again.

‘You really are quite monstrous! I can't think why I should like it, but I do. Well, if you can wait fifteen or twenty minutes while I make some telephone calls, I can take you myself. If your cousin has gone up again—I'll ring him too—I could see him about coming down tonight at the same time, and kill two birds with one stone.'

‘Poor birds!—me and Colin. Very well.'

‘He is a ring-ousel, a mountain bird,' Antrobus said unexpectedly. ‘You are a thrush.'

‘I don't sing.'

‘No, but you are rather thrush-coloured, and your speaking voice is extremely musical.'

While Antrobus telephoned, Julia sat in the shade of the chestnut avenue along the edge of the Hohe Matte; the Porsche, large and low-hung, was parked by the restaurant, but he told her not to sit in it. Presently he came back and they drove off, spinning through the old wood-built town on the Beatenberg side of the Aar, where pear trees, white with blossom, were trained up against the dark timbers of the houses; then across flat open meadows into the forest,
where the road began to climb. The Porsche made nothing of the ascent, and took the hairpin bends at a speed that startled Julia. ‘Nice car,' she said.