Complete works of peter.., p.339
Complete Works of Peter Cheyney. Illustrated, page 339
Valetta got up. She said: "Thank you. I was so very miserable. Now I'm so happy that nothing matters."
Fenton said: "I'm glad you're happy. There isn't too much of that commodity about these days." He held out his hand. "Good-bye, Miss Fallon," he said, "and thank you for what you've done.
"The detective-constable will show you out by the Embankment entrance," Fenton went on. "There'll be a cab waiting for you. I don't suppose anyone noticed you come here, but it's best to go out by a different way. Good-bye, and good luck."
When she had gone, Fenton went back to the desk. He took a pipe and a dilapidated tobacco pouch from his pocket. He began to fill the pipe.
Women, he thought, were a damned nuisance.
IX
Valetta sat on the silk-cushioned stool, her hands folded in her lap, and looked at herself in the reflecting mirrors of her dressing-table. She was not displeased with the picture. She qualified the compliment to herself with the thought that it was not for herself that she was glad that she was not plain, or ill-figured or ungraceful.
She wondered if Kane would come. If he would make an attempt to get into touch with her. Possibly, she thought, the tired-looking Mr. Fenton would have seen him, told him about her interview of the morning. She wanted to see Kane, to ask his forgiveness for her doubts—even if they had been the result of the carefully-planned scheme in which she had been merely a pawn, with Kane as the eventual prey.
She remembered what Fenton had said. There were many people in the pay of the enemy who would give much to liquidate Michael Kane. He was a thorn in their flesh. There was a price on his head. This quiet, often whimsical, man who had such joy in her company; this odd, tough person who found happiness with her and a means of escape.
And there must be much that he desired to escape from. Most of the time, thought Valetta, his nerves must be strung up, attuned to situations, schemes in which life—his own, his associates'—were at stake. When he had told her that she was important to him he had meant just that. She was important to him. She was a solitary link with peace and contentment.
The ivory clock on the mantelpiece struck nine. She smiled to herself when she remembered that this was the first night that she had ever been "off." But the theatre had no appeal to her to-night. She had wanted to keep away from it, to think, to try and think out some pattern for her life. A new pattern, and one which, for better or for worse, would please Kane.
She had sent a note to the theatre in good time, remembering Fenton's instructions not to use the telephone, and now, at this moment, her understudy, pleased for the chance, would be playing her part. She had thought that to-night Kane might want to talk to her. In any event the excuse was good enough for her to take the opportunity to think and to plan. Even if there was little to think about, and planning impossible.
There was a sudden click. She spun round on the stool. Behind her the french window opening out on to the balcony opened slightly. A hand appeared. The window continued to open. Valetta leaned back against the dressing-table. Her heart was pounding. Then she began to smile.
The cheerful countenance of Guelvada appeared round the edge of the window, followed by the rest of him. He slipped into the room, closed the window quickly behind him, rearranging the velvet blackout curtains.
He said: "Miss Fallon, I am desolated at being forced to make use of such an undignified entrance. Please don't be frightened. The name is Guelvada."
She got up. "I'm not frightened, Mr. Guelvada," she said. "And I'm very glad to meet you. If you will come into my sitting-room, I'll give you a drink. And you can leave your raincoat in the hall."
She led the way into the sitting-room. After a moment Guelvada appeared. He had shed his dilapidated raincoat and hat. The suit beneath was elegant, as always, and his air of smiling amiability was that of an old friend.
"Consider my difficulty, Miss Fallon," he said. "I must speak to you and I must do so without telephoning you, and without passing through the hallway downstairs in case my friend the night-porter—who is not really a friend—should recognise me. So there was nothing for it. I came by way of the roof next door and the balcony. And here I am—entirely and absolutely at your service."
Valetta smiled at him. There was something very pleasing about Mr. Guelvada, she thought, something very happy and infectious. And he was someone near to Michael and, therefore, must be a friend of hers.
She said: "I can give you a cocktail or a whisky and soda. Which will you have? And please sit down by the fire."
Guelvada said: "I will drink the whisky and soda, if you please." He sighed. "What a lucky man I am," he said.
Valetta laughed.
"Why?" she asked. "I think you're rather delightful, Mr. Guelvada. You enter my flat through the bedroom window, after climbing over all the roofs in the neighbourhood as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world, and as if you did it merely for the purpose of telling me that you are a lucky man. Or was there something else?"
"Oh yes," said Guelvada. "There was something else, but that will keep."
Valetta put the whisky and soda on the small table at his elbow, and a box of cigarettes. She took one herself. Guelvada lit it and his own. He looked at her quickly, smilingly, as she sat in the chair opposite.
"First of all I would like to tell you why I think I am lucky," he said. "You must realise that all my life I have been a worshipper of feminine beauty. From the earliest times I have been enchanted by the sight of beautiful women. Well... facts must be faced, and when I learned from Michael that you were a friend of his—an important friend—then I was greatly concerned. You will want to know why I was concerned, so I will satisfy your curiosity immediately."
Guelvada drank a little whisky and soda. He replaced the glass on the little table. But all the while he was looking at Valetta with the same delightful smile.
"You will realise," he went on, "that Michael is a close friend of mine. He and I have been in all sorts of things together. We understand each other very well. Imagine therefore how curious I was about this mysterious woman who was important to him, and who was so busy creating situations that were urgent and must be dealt with. I wondered what she would be like. I hoped she would be beautiful. And now I see her and discover that she is utterly enchanting."
Valetta said: "Mr. Guelvada, you are an experienced flatterer. You make it sound almost like the truth."
"It is the truth," retorted Guelvada. "You know, all one's life there is an idea in one's head. An idea of the perfect woman. To me there has often come such an idea. I have visualised such a one. A woman of delightful figure, dressed as you are dressed, wearing a black velvet housecoat, with a delightful frill at the throat and wrists, with little georgette shoes with diamond buckles, with the delightful low, soft voice—'like a husky flute'—that one reads about in books but never meets. And behold... I see this picture. I see it in the flesh. I am carried away with joy. I, Guelvada, am happy!"
He finished his drink with satisfaction.
Valetta laughed. "I see that you are a very clever person, Mr. Guelvada," she said. "Why are you tempting me into such an agreeable frame of mind? Is that part of some deep scheme? Or is it to prepare me for something serious?"
Guelvada shrugged. "Do not believe," he said, "that life is ever really serious. Sometimes it is a little dramatic. Sometimes merely boring. But seldom serious."
She said: "It's been serious for me during the last few days... dramatic and serious and horrible...." She shivered at the thought.
Guelvada shrugged and smiled.
"That was merely one act of the comedy," he said. "Now we may progress to the second and the third acts." He leaned forward in his chair. "You have a part—a most important part—to play in the second act. Important because, if you play it well, then I have no doubt that Michael will be able to finish off the third—and possibly last—act successfully and quickly."
Valetta said: "I will play any part to the best of my ability, Mr. Guelvada.'
He nodded.
"Excellent," he said. "I assure you that Michael is a very good stage-manager. You could not have a better one."
He stubbed out his cigarette, lit a fresh one.
"Now," he said, "it will be good for you to know what we think has happened, what we intend shall happen. Because what I shall tell you is important, you will please listen very carefully, because it is necessary that there should be no mistakes."
Valetta nodded her head. "I am listening," she said.
Guelvada drew on his cigarette.
"I have talked with Michael," he said, "and Mr. Fenton, who you saw this morning, has also talked with him, and so it seems that this is the position.... The Boches have been clever for them—as clever as they could be—but that is not clever enough. This is the way they wanted to play their scheme:
"Consider the situation: Standen arrived. He gets to know you. He gets to know you because he has been advised that you are a close friend of Michael's. He sets out to be attractive, and I have no doubt he was attractive. I imagine him to be a delightful and charming person. He would have been picked for those qualities. Very well... having secured your interest, he proposes marriage." Guelvada laughed. "He knows perfectly well that you will refuse, but the fact that he has done so gives him the right to ask why. He hopes you will say something about Michael. Very naturally you do. You also tell him that you know nothing about Michael, which is what he wants you to say. But before he leaves you he suggests that it might be to your advantage if he found out something about the mysterious Mr. Kane.
"So the ground is prepared—well prepared. And you are not surprised when the second actor appears on the scene—the pseudo Detective-Inspector Arthurs. He informs you that Michael is a spy. You are ready to believe this because he is able to tell you that they were put on Michael's track by Standen; because he produces evidence of who he is, and because he has arranged for you to telephone through to Scotland Yard in order that that evidence may be confirmed."
Guelvada drew on his cigarette again.
"All this was very good whilst we did not suspect," he said, "but when we did suspect, it was not good. It was not good for them because it showed us there was someone else in this building—someone who had been able to disconnect your telephone wire; someone who had pretended to be the official at Scotland Yard.
"Last night," Guelvada went on, "an attempt was made to follow Michael. He came here to see you in order to give them an opportunity. The attempt was unsuccessful. Therefore they will try it again. But next time we must arrange that the attempt is made in such a way that it reacts to our advantage."
Valetta nodded.
"How will you be able to do that?" she asked.
"This is what we shall do," said Guelvada. "First of all the hall-porter, Lang, is a German. He is working with someone else who is living in this block—a man named Thomson in No. 17 to the left of this flat. It is certain that your telephone line is tapped, so that the only use we can make of your telephone is to plant ideas into their heads. Now these two people inside this place must have help from outside. That help will probably consist of the pseudo Detective-Inspector Arthurs and Standen, but it is reasonable to suppose that Arthurs, having once appeared as a police-officer, will not appear again until the end of this little comedy is in sight. So," continued Guelvada with an amiable smile, "we propose to bring it to an end quickly—to ring down the curtain in the hope that, when it falls, these gentlemen may make their last bows."
He stubbed out his cigarette carefully.
"Now, Miss Fallon," he said, "listen carefully.... To-morrow you must not go to the theatre. You must be indisposed. Early in the evening Michael will telephone through here. He will suggest that he comes to see you. You will agree.
"Then he will say that he has an important appointment to keep later in the evening with his employer. He will ask your permission to leave a case containing some important documents in your care whilst he is away. You will agree to do this. He will impress on you the importance of these documents, and you, in your turn, will impress on him the fact that they will be quite safe in your keeping.
"Immediately he has rung off, you will ring downstairs to Lang, and, as you arranged with our friend 'Detective-Inspector Arthurs,' inform him that Kane is coming at seven-thirty. You will inform him that Kane has said that he will be leaving important documents in your care." Guelvada grinned. "This, I think, will delight our friend Lang, downstairs," he said.
"Very well then, Michael will arrive carrying a locked document-case. He will stay with you for a little while and leave just before eight. Our friend who followed him last time, will follow him again. But this time he will be successful. Michael will take good care that he is properly followed, and that his destination is noted." Guelvada grinned cynically. "Now," he said, "this is where you make your entrance....
"Let us consider the position. Michael has gone. He has been followed by Thomson, and you are left alone in your flat, with the case containing documents which they will think are important. What is the obvious thing for them to do? Surely Lang, the hall-porter, will get into touch with our friend 'Detective-Inspector Arthurs.' He will come round to the flat for the purpose of collecting those documents from you. It is also fairly obvious that before he does so, he will communicate with the fourth member of the party—Standen—and tell him what he proposes to do. If they consider the documents to be sufficiently important they will make their getaway there and then. At least they would hope to make their getaway...."
"I understand," she said. "It seems that my part is not a very difficult one."
"Nevertheless," said Guelvada with a smile, "being an actress, you will know that small parts are often quite important. So, with your permission, we will hold a rehearsal. First of all, we must rehearse your telephone conversation with Michael, and then we must rehearse the scene when, as we hope, our friend 'Detective-Inspector Arthurs' pays you a sudden visit to retrieve the documents. Shall we do that?"
"Please," said Valetta. "I should like to be word perfect."
The rehearsal began.
X
Lang, the hall-porter, sat in his glass-fronted office, on the right of the main-entrance doors. He was reading the Evening News. He was interested in the situation in Libya.
Lang, whose name was Adolf Hierchel—he was a Bavarian—had been in England continuously for eight years. He was a specialist in accents, and could speak English with a Scots, Irish, Welsh, or provincial inflection as he desired. He had been sent over originally by Herr Doctor Goebbels, who—even at that time—realised the importance of propaganda for the coming Nazi struggle in Germany, and had later been transferred to one of the Special Sections of the Intelligence Department. He had worked all over the country and in Ireland and Scotland. He was a first-class agent, calm, deliberate and intelligent, and had been working under Hildebrand for the last two years.
The telephone rang. Lang picked up the receiver, answered. It was Kane speaking:
"Hello," said Kane. "Is that the Vallance Apartments. Put me through to Miss Fallon, please. I've been ringing her on her own line but can't get through."
"Hold on, sir, and I'll put you through on this line," said Lang. "Miss Fallon's own line has been a bit troublesome for the last day or two...." He put the call through, keeping his own line connected. He listened carefully.
When Valetta answered, Kane said: "Hello, Valetta. This is the first chance I've had of speaking to you. I've been busy. How are you?"
"Very well," said Valetta. She had her "part" word perfect. Her voice, after a dozen "rehearsals" with Ernie Guelvada, was easy and confident. "When am I going to see you again, Michael?"
"Do you want to see me?" asked Kane.
"Of course," she answered. "You know I do. Can you manage it?"
"Well... yes..." said Kane hesitantly. He paused for a moment. "The fact is," he went on, "I've got a document-case full of most important papers which I want to park somewhere. The papers are so important that I don't like carrying the case around in this blackout. You see, I've an urgent engagement which will take me about an hour. I'd like to come straight to you now and leave the document-case with you—I know it'll be all right in your flat—and then go on and keep the appointment. Afterwards I could come back to you. How would that suit?"
Valetta said: "That's all right. But what a shame you've got that appointment. It's such a beastly night—so cold and snowy. Couldn't you possibly get out of it?"
"No," said Kane, "I couldn't. You see, the appointment is with my boss. And he's tough. I must keep it. But I shouldn't be with him for more than an hour and I'd come straight back."
"Very well," said Valetta brightly. "You come along here now and leave your papers or whatever it is with me, and then get your business done and come back afterwards. That'll be nice."
"Right, I'll be with you in ten minutes," said Kane.
Lang waited until they had both hung up. Then he plugged his line in to Nielek's apartment. Nielek answered the telephone quickly.
Lang said: "He's coming here in about ten minutes. He's going to leave some papers with her and then going to see someone he calls his 'boss.' You'd better go after him. I'll look after everything else."
"Right," said Nielek. "I'll get the car out and park on the other side of the road. I don't want to lose him this time."
"All right," said Lang. "But keep close to this place. It's dark outside and he won't see your car. If he does it's quite normal for people to park round here."
Nielek hung up. So did Lang. A minute afterwards his "house" buzzer sounded. He picked up the house telephone. It was Valetta.
"Is that Lang, the hall-porter? It is. Oh, Lang, Mr. Kane has just telephoned me. He's coming here in ten minutes' time. He's going to leave some papers here and go off and keep an appointment. That will take about an hour. Then he's returning here. I expect Inspector Arthurs would like to know that."
"Thank you, Miss," said Lang. "I'll telephone through and tell Mr. Arthurs." He hung up. He smiled a little. Hiltsch had played his part beautifully, thought Lang. She'd fallen for the story—hook, line, and sinker—was doing her best to help.
