“Oh, Dougal, what am I going to do?” I cried in
despair.
I might have guessed what his advice would be.
“If I were you, Gail, I’d go back to England. Back home.”
“But how can I? How can I with that man still act
ing a part, and Alexis—dead? I can’t allow them to
win without fighting back.”
Dougal let out a long breath, as if regretting his own
weakness in pandering to me.
“If you like, if it will help reconcile you, Gail, I’ll
go and have another talk with Dr. Karel. I can pretend
there are one or two points I want clarified from my interview this afternoon. With any luck, I might even
get hold of him right now.”
“Oh, would you really, Dougal.” I was ready to
clutch at any straw. “If you could talk to him, knowing
what I’ve told you, you might catch him out. He might
easily slip up and give himself away.”
Dougal shook his head. “I shan’t be trying to catch him out, Gail, for the simple reason that I believe he really is the man he claims to be. But I’d hate you to
think I’m not willing to help when you’re in trouble.
If Brett were here, I could leave him to worry about
you. But God knows where he is at this moment. Quite
possibly he never even got away from that place you
were staying at. There’ve been reports of heavy snowfalls in the Basses Alpes. I reckon you must have been lucky and got out of the district just in time.”
If Brett was stuck at La Retraite, then I didn’t have
any cause to fear him. Not for the moment. At least
it gave me time to act—while he couldn’t interfere.
Dougal said, “Look, Gail, I don’t like leaving you
standing around here while I’m gone. Suppose I take
you along to the next hotel, and you can wait for me
in the bar.”
I shook my head. “No, I feel such a mess. I’ll sit in
the car. It’s parked outside the Cosmos.”
Dougal walked over the road with me to the Renault.
“I’ll try not to be too long,” he said. “You stay here,
promise.” He paused, looking at me intently. “You’ve done some foolish things this last day or two, Gail. But
the stupidest by far was running away from Brett. Now
don’t run away again.”
* * * *
I watched Dougal’s tall figure heading for the entrance of the Hotel Cosmos. Despite his quick strides,
he seemed to move reluctantly. I knew I ought to feel
grateful to him, he had tried to be kind. Yet I felt a
bitter hostility because he refused to accept my word.
But, I argued, he must have
some
doubt in his mind
to have agreed to go and see the man who claimed to
be Alexis. And Dougal was shrewd—I was certain of
that. Forewarned with what I’d told him, surely he
would find some chink in the impostor’s armor. It
would need only a few careful probing questions, and
Dougal would be convinced that I was right.
I settled to wait, trying to hold off the thousand
agonizing thoughts that bombarded my mind. At this
moment, my own personal danger seemed to be the
least of my worries. Most of all, I was concerned about
Madeleine. I knew now, I was quite
certain,
that Alexis
was dead—and it would be my dreadful task to break
it to my aunt. The news would shatter her.
Dougal was back in less than ten minutes, startling
me as he opened the car door. He slid into the seat
beside me, without speaking.
“What ... what happened?” I asked faintly, fear
fully.
Dougal hesitated. When he spoke his voice was
harsh.
“He wasn’t there, and he won’t be back. It’s getting
to be a habit with that man—he’s skipped again.
Checked out of the hotel with Belle Forsyth, and no
body’s got a clue where they’re heading.”
I was flying back home, defeated.
But what else could I do? I had lost my luggage way
back in Nice and had only the grubby, torn clothes I
had on. And very little money left.
In any case, what was the point of staying on in
Geneva? The man who pretended to be Alexis had vanished again, and this time—I knew it instinctively
—he had vanished for good. His job was done now. A painstakingly thorough job of character assassination.
The Communists would not risk another appearance,
when his genuineness might be challenged.
And what of the actual physical assassination, my
poor uncle’s murder? Who had done that job?
Was it Belle Forsyth, whom I had liked and trusted,
whose coming to Deer’s Leap had seemed to us all
such a blessing? She had been right there on the spot.
Or could it have been Brett? I shuddered violently,
trying to close my mind to the horrifying possibility.
When the plane landed at London Airport, it was
nearly midnight. A rainswept February night, cold and desolate. I had difficulty in getting a taxi to take me all
the way to Deer’s Leap and had to offer the driver a
handsome bonus as an inducement.
He was a fat, cheerful Cockney who expected to pass the journey in chitchatty conversation. But he
soon realized that I was a dead loss and lapsed into
offended silence.
I sat hunched in the rear seat, my brain battered to
a daze.
I owed a lot to Dougal Fraser. He had been very
kind, yet I knew he was relieved to put me on a plane,
to put me out of his mind. I’d not had enough money
left to pay my fare to London, and the return ticket
from Palma was useless. Dougal had seen to every
thing, using his credit card and saying we could sort
it all out later. And he’d promised to have the Renault
returned to the car-rental firm.
“Don’t worry about any of it, Gail. Just go home
and forget all this.”
Forget? I would never forget.
It was a living nightmare. Somehow—however long
it took me—I would force the truth out into the open.
Nothing could bring my uncle back to life, but the
name Alexis Karel must be restored in people’s minds
as a symbol of integrity and hope.
And yet I had no idea how I was going to do this.
The Communists had planned it all meticulously, leaving no weaknesses, no cracks for me to probe.
It seemed to me I would have to start at Deer’s
Leap. That was where it had all begun. Belle had been
installed there long in advance, cunningly working
herself into the household, ready for the ghastly plan to
be put into operation. So it was at Deer’s Leap I must
start searching for evidence.
At least I would be with Madeleine. My poor aunt. There was no getting out of it now, she would have to
be told
something.
But what I didn’t know.
At Deer’s Leap, too, I could share my dreadful
knowledge with Rudi. He would help me.
I couldn’t make up my mind how much I was going
to tell Sir Ralph. In some ways—terrible as the new
situation was—it must come as a relief to him. It
would give him back his lost faith in Alexis, and he
would become my ally in trying to expose the truth.
But, inevitably, telling Sir Ralph would mean reveal
ing the part Brett had played, and I dreaded having to
do that. Brett was his only son, the son he was so proud
of. To learn of Brett’s Involvement would break Sir
Ralph’s heart.
The time ahead was dark with uncertainty, as black
and impenetrable as the night that surrounded me. The
car sped on through lashing rain, the windshield wipers and the driver’s wheezy breathing a monotonous background to my tortured thoughts.
* * * *
Deer’s Leap was in darkness, not a light showing
anywhere. I hadn’t enough cash to pay off the driver
and had to ask him to wait while I woke Rudi.
I pulled the old-fashioned bell handle. Nothing hap
pened, and I pulled it again, forcefully, the jangle
echoing loudly in the night silence.
At last a light went on upstairs, sending a feeble
glow down into the hall. Then the hall lights them
selves came on. I heard the heavy bolts drawn back. The front door opened a few inches, on the chain, and
a pale face appeared at the slit.
“Who’s there?”
Freda Aiken. I could have done without her at the
moment.
“It’s Gail Fleming. I’m sorry to have got you up, Miss
Aiken, but I haven’t a key with me.”
“Oh.”
The door was shut again and the chain freed. Then
Freda opened up for me. She was wearing a blue
woolen dressing gown, and her hair was in curlers.
“Nobody told me you were coming back tonight,
Miss Fleming,” she said in an aggrieved tone.
“I didn’t know myself until a few hours ago. I’m
sorry to have disturbed you. I was hoping it would be
Mr. Bruckner, but I know he’s rather a heavy sleeper.
I’ll have to go up and wake him, because I haven’t
enough cash with me for the taxi. But there’s no need
for you to wait up, thank you, Miss Aiken. You should get straight back to bed.”
I invited the driver to come inside and wait. As I
hurried upstairs, Freda Aiken remained there with
him in the hall, as if she thought he couldn’t be trusted.
Rudi was right about being a heavy sleeper. I had to
go into his room and actually shake him before at last
he muttered drowsily and opened his eyes. He gave a
short, startled gasp and sat bolt upright.
“Gail. What are you doing here? What’s happened?”
“It’s a long story, Rudi. I’ll tell you in a minute, but
first will you please give me ten pounds so I can settle
up with the taxi driver. I’ve come straight from the airport.”
“Yes, of course. My wallet is over there on the chest
of drawers. Help yourself.” He threw back the blan
kets and slid out of bed, dragging a short paisley robe over his white pajamas. “I’ve been worried out of my
mind, Gail—not hearing from you for two days. Is
everything all right?”
“Oh, Rudi, far from it. Come downstairs, and I’ll
tell you.”
A ten pound note in my hand, I went on ahead of
him to pay off the driver. Freda Aiken was still there,
having a murmured conversation with the man, no
doubt pumping him. But there wasn’t anything he could tell her beyond the fact, possibly, that I had
come off the Geneva plane.
Rudi had come downstairs by the time I’d seen the driver out. He took hold of my arm, urging me toward
the Oak Room.
Once again, I apologized to Freda Aiken. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you, but I’m afraid I couldn’t help it.’
She nodded, her face quite blank. But she aston
ished me by saying suddenly, “I’ll make some tea.”
“Thanks, but there’s no need,” said Rudi hastily.
“But why not, Mr. Bruckner? I expect we could all
do with a cup. I know I could.”
I was in an agony to get rid of the woman. If she’d
felt an iota of genuine concern, I wouldn’t have mind
ed, but I was sure it was pure nosiness on her part. I
said rather shortly, “You go ahead and make tea for
yourself if you want to. But not for us, thanks. Good
night!”
With that I walked into the Oak Room. Rudi fol
lowed me in and firmly shut the door.
“Gail, for heaven’s sake, what’s happened?”
I shook my head warningly. “Keep your voice down.
I expect she’s trying to listen, and I don’t want her to
know about it—not for the present, anyhow.”
I sank into one of the leather armchairs while Rudi
stood over me, looking down at me anxiously.
“Oh, Rudi—it’s terrible. The man with Belle isn’t
Alexis at all. He’s an impostor.”
Rudi gave a startled, unbelieving gasp.
“I finally caught up with them at a hotel in Geneva.
Belle tried to keep me away from him, but I managed
to get to their suite. And when he looked at me, I
knew at once. Before I could speak to him, though,
he ran into another room, and then Belle appeared and
I was thrown out. The man’s a fake, Rudi. He’s been
made to look exactly like Alexis, but I know he’s a
fake.”