The Numbered Account (25 page)

‘How do you know about the black brief-case? Oh, the little girl, I suppose. You kissed her in the bus to some purpose—no wonder, of course.'

‘Don't!' Julia said sharply. Her relations with June were beginning to trouble her, they were so equivocal.

‘So sorry. But what put you on to Merligen in the first place?'

‘Well really, I don't know what the British Government think they pay you for!' Julia said. ‘You say you're functioning out here, and I presume you draw a tolerable salary, since you run a Porsche on it, and yet you never seem to put two and two together. Do you really not know that “Corsette-Air” have their Swiss Agency in Merligen? I told you and Nethersole how I met the little man who runs it in the train, just to make a story—and somehow I got the impression that you did know something about them.'

‘Can you tell me why you got that impression?' he asked, rather seriously.

‘Oh, you looked so dead-pan,' the girl said. ‘People like you and Hugh never seem to realise that that blank expression can be quite as much of a give-away as registering emotion of some sort. Nethersole laughed; you didn't —and that in itself made me begin to wonder. I hadn't given two thoughts to the little man before that.'

Antrobus regarded her across the little table. ‘You are slightly alarming,' he said—‘especially because your appearance gives so little indication of these gifts. Well, go on—my blank expression at the Palais des Nations focused your suspicions on “Corsette-Air”. So then?'

‘When B. and Co. left the Fluss, Colin asked me to try to find out where they'd gone, so I went to Merligen to call on Monsieur Kaufmann at his villa.'

‘And what did you find?'

Julia told him what she had found, and how she had reported to the local police. ‘I was afraid they'd simply take me for a harmless loony; I was absolutely delighted when the Pastor de Ritter rang up and said the police had been to him to check. But Colin was merely furious! Can you tell me one thing?—are they watching that chemist in Berne? Because I do think—' she broke off with a sudden exclamation. ‘Hullo! Here they are!'

Peering through the hedge she and Antrobus saw two figures crossing the little Platz towards the Golden Bear—one with a greying beard, the other the young, sinisterly handsome creature whom Antrobus had seen up at Beatenberg; he carried a black brief-case positively distended by its contents. Both men looked hot and out of temper.

‘Hooray!' Julia said under her breath. ‘They've not been able to unload them.'

‘No, it looks as though you'd stopped that earth. But I'd better find out.' He made to rise, as the two men entered the other hotel.

‘Oh wait a moment, for goodness' sake! There's something we must settle.'

‘What?' he asked rather impatiently.

‘We shall have to arrange something about June.'

‘June? Oh, is that the little creature? Why do we have
to settle anything about her? She's an accessory to a major fraud, and as such liable to quite a long sentence.'

‘Oh, accessory my elbow! She's a nice, harmless child whom these horrible crooks have roped in—well, bribed in—for their own ends, and they'd be absolutely merciless to her if she got in their way, or was a hindrance. They've been pretty merciless already'—she recounted their visit to the clinic and the state of June's foot.

‘Oh, that's where you took her?'

‘Yes, and then to Schuhs to gobble—and after we did some shopping. But look—when you pounce, as I suppose you will in a few hours, can't you do something about her? That ankle of hers needs regular attention—it's her livelihood. And those toads would just pitch her into the Aar as soon as look at you.'

‘What a nice person you are,' he said. ‘But my dear, I'm not the one to do the actual pouncing—that's up to your cousin and his show.'

‘Oh!' Julia was taken aback. ‘Why?'

‘I told you. I deal with the local people; Colin's lot work with Interpol and the Special Police, who handle international crime. We work in, of course, and that's why I really must go and telephone now.'

‘Who to?'

‘Well first to Merligen, to find out if B. and K.'—Julia grinned at the familiar phrase—‘succeeded in getting into the Villa Victoria or not. Then I shall report to Berne accordingly, telling them the new address, of course.'

‘And then will Colin and Co. pounce?'

‘I expect so.' He got up, and then sat down again. ‘Really, I think I'd better explain the whole set-up, as you seem to be playing these uncontrollable lone hands— and I'm sure no one can stop you! They'd be foolish to try, really, because “the Fatima touch” does seem to produce results.'

‘What is the set-up, then?'

‘Two-fold. That's what makes it rather complicated. Large sums of money and securities have been extracted by an elaborate fraud, from a Swiss bank, and naturally
the Swiss authorities wish to recover that, lay the thieves by the heels, and save the bank's good name. But we'— to her surprise he paused, and looked at her consideringly.

‘Well, “we” what?' July asked impatiently.

‘You do
know
what your cousin is after?' he asked. ‘I don't want to be the one to tell you.'

‘Oh really!' Julia exploded. ‘No, I know
nothing
! Except that Colin wrote that some vital papers were in the bank along with the cash; and the Pastor spoke of “the oil question”; and June has described seeing “blue papers with white drawings on them” put into that brief-case we saw just now. So I deduce blue-prints for a hidden pipeline, or an atomic-powered submarine oil-tanker, or something. But does it matter?'

‘Yes, it does matter,' Antrobus said, rather severely. ‘However, I am satisfied; you're so near the mark as makes no difference, anyhow. Well our people, unlike the Swiss, aren't worrying very much about the late Mr. Thalassides' fortune, or whether the real Miss Armitage recovers it or not; but they do want those blue-prints—and they don't want anyone else, not even the good neutral Swiss, to see them. That's why your cousin's outfit must do the pouncing themselves; the Swiss police can have the cash, but the important thing is that Colin and Co. should get what they want first.'

‘I see.' She summed it up aloud. ‘You find out all you can from your local contacts, and pass the proceeds on to Berne; but after that your main job is to hold off the locals while Berne pounces. Correct?'

‘Perfectly correct.' Again he got up.

‘No—sit down.' Grinning a little, he obediently sat down once more. ‘We still haven't settled about
June,'
the girl said. ‘You rode off onto all this stuff about your separate branches. But when Colin's lot do pounce, what will happen to June?'

‘My dear, how can I answer that one? I probably shan't be there. Can't you get your cousin to deal with that?'

‘No!' Julia said. ‘That's absurd, and you know it. As
you yourself said, Colin is very junior, and presumably cuts no ice at all. We've got to do something about June.'

He looked at his watch.

‘I am so sorry,' he said rather formally, ‘but I positively must go and telephone now, or I shall be falling down on my job. Where can I find you? Where shall you lunch?'

‘Nowhere!—here; I haven't thought.'

‘Well lunch here, or anyhow stay here for the next half-hour. I should be back by then; we might lunch together, and try to plan something for your little stand-in.' Julia agreed to this, and Antrobus went off.

Julia ordered a Cinzano—beer made one so sleepy—and sat on behind the hedge, thinking where June could be stowed, or parked, if it were possible to get her away from the Golden Bear. The Silberhorn was not much use: it was too close, for one thing, and June's presence wouldn't really help Mrs. Hathaway's convalescence, while Watkins would probably despise her to the point of hatefulness. Then where? Gersau? No—Herr Waechter was too old to have that sort of thing put on him. After a moment it came to her—La Cure would be the ideal place, if Jean-Pierre and Germaine would take the job on; and she believed they might. She went along to the little hotel, which was even humbler than the Bear; the telephone was in the hall, but she had the good fortune to get Jean-Pierre himself, so the conversation could be in English. Julia explained, with calculated vagueness and no names, what her idea was.

‘I see,' the Pastor said at the end. ‘You wish us to house for an indefinite time a very uneducated English girl, who is connected with criminals. Yes, of course we will; gladly.'

‘You're an angel!'

‘Not in the least. I am supposed to preach Christianity and what is Christianity about, but things like this? When do you want her to come?'

‘I don't know yet. It may be at rather short notice, I'm afraid.'

‘Ah well, Germaine always has rooms ready.' He paused, and then said, ‘Do not answer if I am being indiscreet,
but could this be
la jeune personne
who has recently purported to be my god-daughter?'

‘Yes—who else?'

‘Then
raison de plus
for my entertaining her!' the Pastor said, with his infectious laugh. ‘A god-child is probably still a god-child, even at one remove!
Alors très-bien;
I shall await your
coup de téléphone'.

Julia went out in to the garden again. This was marvellous. But as she sat looking up at the window on the extreme right of the Bear's front door, which she knew to be June's, she wondered how on earth she was to extract the girl from that innocent-looking little hotel, which was now her prison. Perhaps Antrobus could help—if he would. He wasn't very sympathetic about June.

Before she expected him he reappeared through the garden, and stood beside her.

‘Goodness, I never saw you come.'

‘No. Back entrance—no need to be seen too often. Now let's go and eat something; you must be starving.'

‘Did they leave the papers at Merligen?' Julia asked, as he led her out through another garden gate into a small alley.

‘No—you fixed them there. Most useful. The local police were lurking in the next-door garden, and they saw them and cleared off. That was rather inspired of you.'

‘Where do we eat?' Julia asked, turning the compliment off.

‘Oh, a nice little place, in the main street.'

They did not, however, walk to it along the main street. Antrobus shepherded her down to that delightful hidden feature of Interlaken, the narrow path leading almost from one end of the town to the other along the river-bank, flanked on one side by back-yards, gardens, walls, and orchards, and on the other by the broad viridian-green current of the Aar, twisted into swirling patterns by its own speed. Close above the surface of the great river swifts skimmed to and fro, the bronze of their slender bodies and back-curved wings vivid in the sun, in exquisite contrast with the colour of the water—Julia exclaimed with pleasure. A little farther on, where trees overhung a back-water
with a private landing-stage, a loud alarmed chittering of birds' voices brought her to a halt.

‘Oh do look! There's a whole family of young redstarts —see? Let's hurry on; Papa and Mamma are in such a fuss, poor sweets.'

‘Birds, too?' the man asked.

‘No, only the commonest.'

At that moment a train, which had crossed by the bridge across the river from the East-Station, crashed along the farther bank opposite them on its way to recross the Aar farther down to reach the West-Station.

‘So like the Swiss to have the intelligence to keep the railway outside the town,' Antrobus said. ‘Their sense for the amenities is quite extraordinary.'

‘I was thinking that in Schuhs this morning,' Julia replied. ‘God knows what they must have sacrificed in ground-rents to keep that lovely open space right in the heart of the town.'

‘The Hohe-Matte? Yes, simply inspired. Of course you may say it's an enlightened self-interest, because of the
turismo
—but how unenlightened our own self-interest is! Can you imagine the humblest Swiss municipality allowing Adelphi Terrace to be destroyed, simply to get inflated rents for office buildings? But London allowed it. People sometimes say the Swiss are dull, but at least they aren't idiotic, which in aesthetic matters we are. Up here.'

A small road led from the river to the main street, where Antrobus led Julia into the garden of a small restaurant, as usual with tables set on gravel in the shade of trees. A waitress brought the menu. ‘Have you eaten Brienzerli?' he asked.

‘No—what's that?'

‘A strange little fish from the Lake of Brienz—rather like smelts. They're delicious—care to try them? All right, we'll have those—and Wiener Schnitzel, do you think? They do them quite well here; the chef is a Czech refugee. What for an apéritif?'

Julia asked for White Cinzano.

‘How comes it that you know that? It suits this climate
so much better than anything else.' He gave the order, insisting in Berner-Deutsch that the Cinzano was to come instantly; the waitress giggled, but in fact brought it within sixty seconds. While they smoked and sipped the fragrant aromatic stuff—‘Now,' Antrobus said, ‘let us make plans for your little protégée.'

‘In fact I've made mine.'

‘Already? Oh very well. May I know what your scheme is?'

‘Of course. You'll have to help with the preliminaries, but she's to go to La Cure at Bellardon.'

‘Good Heavens! Will they have her there?'

‘Yes—as soon as I telephone.'

‘Do they know she's the fraud?'

‘But naturally. Jean-Pierre said a god-child was a godchild, even at one remove,' Julia said, with her slow laugh.

‘He must be a remarkable person,' Antrobus said slowly.

‘Oh he is. Such a charmer, and absolutely boiling with Kafka and Rilke and all that.'