Complete works of peter.., p.414
Complete Works of Peter Cheyney. Illustrated, page 414
She nodded. "Yes... but I'm not particularly interested in weather."
He drew up a deck-chair; sat down at her side. He said: "Something's worrying you, isn't it, Thelma?"
She nodded. "That's perfectly true. Let's face the fact. I'm worrying about this girl Steyning. Every day that she stops on that appalling island with no one to look after her scares me more and more."
"I see.... That means to say that you want me to do something about it?"
"I think you ought to, Julian. I'd like you to take the afternoon plane to-day. Do as we suggested. Go back to the Leonard Hotel. Tell them some story about your absence. They've probably got their own ideas in any event. Then go and see the Commissioner of Police. Tell him the story we arranged. Put yourself right with him."
He said: "That's easy enough. If, as you suggested, they're on some other scent they probably won't bother too much about me. And then what do I do?"
She said: "Something will turn up."
Isles smiled at her. "You know, things don't turn up unless you make them. Don't you think it would be a good idea if I went to see this girl? Don't you think it might be a good idea if I talked her into going back to England?"
She said slowly: "It might be. But I can't say at the moment and I don't want you to do anything like that. Perhaps I'll be able to get some sort of message to you. In any event, I'd like you not to see her until you've heard something more from me."
"Very well." He grinned. "I don't know why I'm being so awfully good about you; why I'm carrying out your instructions so implicitly. I wonder what Vallon would think I ought to do—if he were here, I mean."
She smiled at him. "I'm perfectly certain, Julian, that if he were here he would tell you to do as I ask. After all, I'm the client, you know. Chennault Investigations is supposed to be working for me."
He nodded. He was still smiling. "I like the process. But you're a strange person, aren't you, Thelma? During these last two or three days I've been with you quite a lot, but when I try to add up what I know about you it seems all very unsatisfactory."
She laughed. "So you consider I'm the mysterious woman who is always supposed to figure so much in the life of a private detective?"
He said: "I think you're damned mysterious—and very attractive."
"Thank you, sir. So I take it that you'll be on the afternoon plane?"
He nodded. "That means to say I should be on Dark Bahama by four-thirty. Maybe when you come to some decision about this girl you'll come over? You don't have to be afraid about coming over, because I shall be there."
She said: "I'm not afraid, Julian. If it's right for me to come over I'll come."
He got up. "Well, I'll be on my way. I think it's an interesting case—this case of the unruly Miss Steyning. I rather wish I knew what the end was going to be."
"I shouldn't worry if I were you," she said. "All we have to do is to remember that the means are always worthy of the end—or are they?"
They laughed. She got up.
She asked: "Do you want a drink before you go?"
He shook his head. "I think I'll get out of here as quickly as possible, or I might begin to make love to you. So I'll go at once."
She said: "I think that's a very good idea, Julian. I don't think I feel like being made love to at the moment. Good-bye. Good luck. I expect I'll see you soon."
He walked back through the french windows. As he went into the dining-room he turned and looked at her. He had a vague idea in his head that it might be the last look he would have. Then he walked into the cool interior of the room, out through the other door.
III
Guelvada stood at the far end of the lawn, listening to the music, admiring the moonlight glinting on the flowers and foliage. He thought that the scene was perfect; the music most appropriate. He shrugged his shoulders. He strolled slowly across the lawn; tried the outside handle of the french windows; found they were unlocked. He pushed them open; stepped into the room. He stood there, spick and span in his white tuxedo, looking across the room towards the grand piano.
It was a few seconds before she saw him; then she stopped playing; got up; came into the middle of the room. Guelvada's eyes moved appreciatively from her hair to her shoes. He thought she looked exquisite. She wore a chiffon dinner frock of pale primrose yellow. The bodice was tight fitting. The folds of the wide skirt billowed about her. Round her white shoulders was a draped scarf of the same colour as the frock. She wore one large diamond clip, and her high-heeled sandals of primrose yellow were covered with tiny rhinestones. With her colouring, and superbly-dressed hair, she made an entrancing picture.
He said: "I assure you, Mrs. Lyon, that when I look at you I realise what an extremely clever person our esteemed boss is. Boy... what a picker!... Never in my life have I seen a woman so utterly lovely as you, and I don't mean maybe, hey?"
She smiled. "Mr. Guelvada, I presume?"
He came into the room. "Very much at your service. Everything that Ernest Guelvada has is at your disposal, Madame."
"That's very nice," There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "What is it that Mr. Guelvada has?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "God forbid that I should talk about myself, but I am not without certain attributes. I have an unerring eye, a superb instinct and, I think I may say, one of the quickest brains on record. Apart from these things I have other qualities which I have no doubt you will discover in due course."
She laughed. "Including modesty, Mr. Guelvada?" she asked.
"But of course. It is quite impossible for a man to present such a heroic picture to the world as I do without being at the same time modest." He went on: "I feel I have known you for a considerable period. I should like to call you Thelma. My name is Ernest. Very often people call me Ernie because they like me so much."
She laughed again. "Very well, Ernie. In the meantime would you like a drink? Then are you going to talk or shall I? What do you know? Do you know anything about the work I am engaged in?"
"No...." Guelvada walked back to the french windows; closed them carefully. "I take it you have been living for some time in this place and you know that there are no microphones in the walls, or eavesdropping servants?"
She said: "You may be quite content about that. What would you like to drink?"
"I consider this to be a most important question, Thelma, because my first drink with you must be to toast your beauty, your intelligence, everything about you. I think you are unutterably charming. Therefore, it must be a long drink—a long, cold, rum drink. That would be delightful."
"Very well." She went to the sideboard; mixed a long Cuba Libre.
Guelvada stood watching, admiring the deftness of her movements. He thought the glitter of the rings on her fingers in the half-shadows on that side of the room was delightful.
After a while she brought him the drink. He held it up.
He said: "Your health, and to your success, Thelma. Now, shall we sit down."
She sat down in the large chair facing him. Guelvada seated himself; took some more of his drink. His eyes, almost gentle and benign, regarded her over the rim of the glass.
He said: "First of all I talk, and then you talk. Do you like that?"
"Yes," said Thelma. "But there is one thing I should like to say. I don't know whether you have talked to Mr. Quayle about me and my mission, but if he's dissatisfied——"
He interrupted. He put up his left hand. He made a clicking noise. "That is not so. It would be quite impossible for anybody to be dissatisfied with you, Thelma. Let me tell you I know nothing about your mission. Of course I had heard of you. You work for Quayle. For a long time you have been very successful. But maybe in a woman's life in our peculiar work the time comes when a little male influence is, shall we say, beneficial. Do you understand, my sweet?"
"Yes. I understand very well."
Guelvada finished his drink; got up. He said: "If you will permit me to make another of those delightful drinks I will begin to talk."
She said: "Of course."
Guelvada went to the sideboard; began to mix his new drink. He said: "Quayle sent me to Dark Bahama because some little time ago an agent by the name of Sandford who was working on the island died a little mysteriously. This Sandford was supposed to be a drunk. He'd been on the island for some time as a holiday-maker. Well, lots of agents put up a front of being drunken and dissolute. Often it is a very good part to play. People will often talk in front of a drunkard when they would be careful if he was sober. I don't think Sandford was sober when he died."
She nodded. "I understand."
"He went over the back of a fishing launch," Guelvada went on. "A shark pulled him over. And, remember, this Sandford was an experienced fisherman. There is a possibility that he was half-drugged at the time; that he was on the boat because he thought it would be a good thing to get off the island for a little while. Maybe—who knows"—he shrugged his shoulders—"someone was gunning for him. He wanted a few hours to think. I went to Dark Bahama to try and find out about this. I arrived there; got the atmosphere of the place; made one or two contacts. I contacted the mate on the fishing boat on which Sandford met his death—an individual by the name of Mellin—who has confirmed that the death was not accidental. Therefore, my suspicions were aroused. I was about to take some further steps when I was interrupted by a message from one of Quayle's runners—Mrs. Wellington—who has already been to see you. Is that not so?"
"That's perfectly right," said Thelma. "I found her a very charming person."
"She is," said Guelvada. "I think she's a sweet. We used to call her the globe-trotter because she is never in the same place for more than a week. Quayle keeps her busy, I can tell you. I went to see her and she told me the story which had got back to Quayle via Chennault Investigations, Scotland Yard and M.I. 5, who had passed it to him purely as a matter of routine. This is the story of your visit to Chennault Investigations, of your employing the man Isles to go out to Dark Bahama and by some means to remove from the island this charming"—he smiled—"if somewhat indiscreet—young woman, Miss Steyning. You know, my Thelma, I think it would have been very difficult for Isles to have removed her. I saw her not very long ago and she was very drunk.
"She has arrived at that stage," he went on, waving one hand in the air, "when nothing seems particularly to matter—not even the process of talking to Ernest Guelvada.
"The next thing that is brought to my notice is that the man Isles, having arrived on the island, was somehow implicated in the murder of a young man called Hubert Gelert. My instructions are to remove Isles from the implications of this murder. Now it occurs to me that you were using Chennault Investigations and the man Isles for your own ends; that you told them some sort of fairy story—one of those little fables we so often use in our peculiar profession in order to bring about some situation that we desire. Now, Thelma, talk to me."
Guelvada adjusted the crease in his black evening trousers; leaned back in his chair; put his glass down on the occasional table beside it; took a thin red and white gold cigarette case from his pocket; lighted a cigarette; relaxed.
He said: "Tell me, Thelma. I have an idea in my head that a great deal depends on this."
She asked: "Why do you think that?"
He spread his hands. "Consider to yourself, my sweet, I know quite a lot about you. You are considered to be a superb operative. Your record in the last war, I know, was very good. I don't think that on any previous occasion you have ever worked with a man. Therefore, when Quayle instructs me to see you and to take over the conduct of this affair, I take it that it is first of all very important and, secondly, that you are placed in some position of difficulty. Is my guess right?"
She nodded. "It's perfectly right, Ernest. Here, in a nutshell, is the story. The principal in the business in which I was concerned was not Viola Steyning, but her brother. Her brother John Steyning was a young scientist. He was working secretly under allied directions on one of the new nuclear fission processes. You know?"
"I know," he said. "Atom bombs, 'H ' bombs, 'A ' bombs—all those things which we have threatening our existence—and how terrible they are!" An expression of humorous dismay passed over his face. "Consider to yourself, even Guelvada cannot argue with an atom bomb! But continue."
She said: "John Steyning either made some discovery which he considered to be important or was in possession of papers which he considered important. Someone on the other side got wise to this. They began to work on him. You know their methods are sometimes very odd."
Guelvada nodded grimly. "I know some of the methods."
She went on: "Very well. Steyning was unshaken in his fidelity to the people he was working for and to his work. There was no doubt that he thought himself in some sort of danger. He disappeared and certain papers disappeared with him. That was when Quayle first came into this matter. One of Quayle's operatives who was working in conjunction with Sandford picked up Steyning's trail. He came out to one of the islands in the Bahamas. When Quayle's operative arrived Steyning was dead."
Guelvada said: "Most interesting. Tell me, Thelma, how did he die?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "Officially, suicide! He shot himself, but in rather peculiar circumstances."
Guelvada said: "You mean he may have been murdered?"
She nodded. "That was what was thought. Either his nerves were in such a state that he decided to kill himself or someone had done it for him. The point was that the documents which he was supposed to have in his possession were gone."
Guelvada said: "I see. So they had those? They got them from him?"
"I don't think so," she said. "The only available information there was, was that on the day that he died he wrote a letter to his sister Viola. It was more than a letter. It was a package. It was thought that, knowing the end—whatever it was—was close at hand, he sent those things to his sister."
Guelvada said: "Ah! Now I am beginning to understand. You were put on to the sister?"
"Precisely, I was put on to Viola Steyning."
Guelvada said: "Things are beginning to make sense. You are sent to Dark Bahama. Sandford was also operating in Dark Bahama. Now I understand. Quayle had sent Sandford there possibly to keep an eye on you—his usual habit. They discover this and get Sandford first. Tell me, my dear, how did you get on with Viola?"
She said: "I didn't. Viola had been having a very good time on the island, but she had been behaving herself more or less until she heard the news of her brother's death. You understand?"
"I understand. And after she had also received the letter he sent her?"
"Precisely," said Thelma. "Either because she was unnerved at hearing of her brother's death, or because of the importance of the letter which he had sent to her, she went to pieces. She began to drink heavily. She did all sorts of things. I thought the only thing that I could do would be to get her away from the island. I thought if I could get her back to England and look after her for a little while we might get some sense out of her."
"I see.... I see...!" Guelvada stubbed out his cigarette. He picked up his glass. "Already in my mind there begins to form a very clear picture. I think it is very interesting. I am glad to be part of it."
"I'm very pleased to hear that, Ernest. I hope you'll like the picture."
He shrugged his shoulders. "Life is made up, my sweet one, of things which are good and bad. If we appreciate the things which are good we must also not be too dissatisfied with those that are bad. But go on with your story. I find it entrancing."
She said: "I came back here to Miami. I have used this place as my headquarters for a long time. I knew it was impossible for me to try and get Viola Steyning back to England by force. It would also be a very bad thing for me to do to become too closely connected with her."
Guelvada. "You were right. Who knows, you also might have been devoured by a shark." He smiled pleasantly at her. "The idea almost makes me wish that I myself were a shark. But I think you were right. So you made a plan?"
She said: "I made a plan. I went back to England. I met Mrs. Steyning. I told her that I thought it would be a good thing for Viola to go back to England to her mother. I said I'd do my best to persuade her to do that. In other words, I was providing myself with a ready-made excuse. Then I went to Chennault Investigations. I had known John Vallon for some time. He's a good type. I evolved a story about Viola Steyning's behaviour. Vallon believed it, and I thought at first that Isles did. Now I think Isles doesn't believe it."
"I see," said Guelvada. "Most unfortunate. So what did you do about Isles?"
She smiled. "I gave him another story, Ernest—much more interesting. After he became involved in the Gelert murder he came back here to Miami. He's clever, this Isles. First of all I tried to get him out of the place. I realised he could no longer be of much use to me. I employed a private detective here—a strong-arm man named Jake Carno who had heard that Isles had landed here—to get him out of Miami and back to England."
Guelvada nodded.
She went on: "It was no good. Isles was too good for Carno. He's quite an intelligent type. He came here, so I gave him my story No. 2. I suggested he went back to Dark Bahama. I said that obviously the police did not suspect him because they'd made no attempt to get in touch with the American authorities here about him. I said that a man who had been my lover in the past had several letters of mine; that this man was making a play for Viola Steyning because he thought she had money; that I could do nothing because if I attempted to interfere he was in a position to blackmail me. Isles believed this story. He went back on the afternoon plane to Dark Bahama."
Guelvada said: "I see. And what does he propose to do when he gets there?"
"I hope nothing. I told him not to do anything until he hears from me."
"And you think he'll do as you want? "asked Guelvada.
"I'm fairly certain of it. I believe he thinks he's in love with me."
Guelvada said: "Very convenient. And why not? You said he was intelligent. Any man with any sort of brain would fall in love with you, my Thelma. I will tell you a secret. Believe it or not, I—Ernest Guelvada—find myself strangely attracted to you. And I don't mean maybe!"
