The Silver Dragon (20 page)

“When will you go back to the villa?” she asked in spite of herself.

He looked as if he had scarcely considered his return to France.

“I’m not quite sure. I have some business to see to in London and I’m always expected to contact my publishers when I’m here. Then I suppose I shall return to Nice, via Paris.”

They sat in silence until the taxi drew up at her door.

“I ought to have done some shopping,” she said, “but I could offer you a cup of coffee, if you can drink it black.”

“I can drink it any way,” he said, opening the door for her. “Not for nothing do I go to sea!”

In the kitchen she found coffee beans and a tin of biscuits.

“Will you grind?” She thrust the coffee mill toward him because he was standing too near for her peace of mind. “I’ll see if I can find a tin of milk.”

“By the way, Jane,” he said when the pungent smell of the ground beans had given the kitchen a more homey air, “I gave Scotland Yard this address and your telephone number. I thought if they wanted to contact
e
ither of us it might be a good idea. I also left your number with my hotel.”

He had expected her to ask him back then? And all she had to offer him was some black coffee and some shortbread her grandmother had sent down from Edinburgh at New Year!

They had to eat it in the kitchen, too, because the central heating had been turned off and it was the only really warm place.

“Are you going to be all right here by yourself?” Dixon asked. “We could still phone around for a hotel room for you, if you like.”

“I think I’d rather stay where I am,” she decided. “I like being at home
...
”

She faltered over the word and suddenly, to her surprise and mortification, tears gathered in her eyes. She blinked them angrily away, hoping that he had not seen, but Dixon had an eagle eye.

“Jane,” he asked gently, “what happened? About the American trip, I mean?”

“Oh ... it was nothing!” She attempted to smile at him. “I’m really terribly foolish about disappointments. Like a child, sometimes. Dad and I had always gone to Switzerland at this time of year for as long as I can remember, and everything had been arranged. Then it had to be canceled at the last minute.” She fought loyally to keep bitterness out of her voice. “Edwina wanted to go to America instead. My father was to go to New York on business after we got back from Geneva, you see, and she decided it would be too expensive and too fatiguing for him to do both.”

“Edwina wasn’t going to Switzerland?” he asked, reaching for what must have been his fourth piece of shortbread.

“Oh, no!” Jane smiled at the suggestion. “She doesn’t like mountains in any shape or form. She doesn’t even like to look at them. She won’t go to Scotland to visit Granny Pettigrew who lives in Edinburgh!”

“Which is not exactly in the heart of the mountains!” Dixon mused.

The telephone bell broke in on their conversation. “Scotland Yard!” Jane laughed, rising to answer it.

“One never knows,” Dixon agreed. “It could, of course, be Dr. Ordley from Nice to check up on the amnesia!”

“It’s for you!” she called back from the hall. “And it
is
Scotland Yard!” she added in a conspiratorial whisper when he came to take the call.

She was clearing away the coffee cups when he followed her into the kitchen.

“Well, are they going to send around a plain van?” she asked.

The utter frivolity of her remark hung in the air long after the words had died on her lips. She turned to look at him.

“Dixon—what happened? What did they say?”

She crossed to his side, the tea towel still in her hand.

“They’ve found the bodies,” he answered briefly. “All three of them. There’s an underground river of some sort that apparently often gives up its dead.”

He sat down on the edge of the table, covering his face with his hands, and Jane stood where she was, unable to offer him any comfort.

“You’ll probably have to come to the Yard with me in the morning,” he said when he straightened to his full height again.

She felt curiously sick at heart, watching him without being able to offer him any words of sympathy.

“I
...
couldn’t you do without me?” she asked.

He turned, gathering her into his arms so swiftly and possessively that she could not have hoped to resist him even if she had tried.

“No, Jane,” he said, “I just couldn’t do without you!” His lips were on her hair, her eyes and finally her mouth, demanding her kisses in return. “I’ve wanted to tell you that for a very long time. All my life, perhaps! Anyway, I’ve known about it ever since that night in The Silver Dragon when I found you looking so lost and ill at ease and knew that you needed my help.”

“But you couldn’t tell me,” she said, smoothing the dark hair at the back of his head with a gentle hand. “I understand that now, Dixon. Yes, truly I understand.”

“I haven’t been able to tell you till now—when the phone rang,” he said, keeping her prisoner in his arms.

“There was always the doubt about Adele. We had no real proof that she was dead. I’m not going to tell you that I never really loved her, because that would be foolish. I was in love with what she
seemed
to be. That must be the answer.” He smiled, turning her face up to his. “Outwardly she was like you, Jane. You looked quite amazingly alike.” His smile deepened. “You’ve heard the saying, of course? Meet a man’s first wife and you’ve met ’em all!”

She drew his head down, pressing her lips to him. ‘There’s only going to be one other wife for you!” she said, laughter chasing the final shadow from her eyes. “You must admit I have some right to the title,” she added in a whisper. “I’ve been masquerading under it long enough.”

“It will be the easiest thing in the world,” he said, holding her close, “to put that right.” He fumbled in his pocket. “There’s always this for a start.”

She held out her hand and he put the blue diamond on her third finger, bending his head to seal their bargain with a kiss.