They Never Say When E-Book

Peter Cheyney

• Herausgeber: Librorium Editions
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

Not many people knew of The Crescent & Star. Those who did were the more happy. For Mrs Melander, the hostess, was a lady of a certain charm, acumen and versatility. Sometimes the inn was full, but often, as just now, it was empty except for two guests. On such occasions Mrs Melander—who, as has been suggested, was a woman of discernment—and her two daughters Suzanne and Emilienne, provided adequate if not delightful company.
It was raining. It had rained for six hours unceasingly. Dark clouds turned the August evening prematurely into something like night. The rhododendron bushes dripped. An antiquated owl, denizen of one of the trees in the wood near the inn, hooted dolorously as if he had made up his mind to contribute something to the sombre atmosphere which enshrouded him. Rivulets of rain ran from the gutterspouts and splashed into the narrow stone courtyard at the side of the hotel in miniature cascades.

Leseprobe

They Never Say When

Peter Cheyney

© 2023 Librorium Editions

ISBN : 9782385743413

They Never Say When

I. -- RUSTIC INTERLUDE

II. -- LA BELLE DAME

III. -- THE CUSTOMER IS ALWAYS RIGHT

IV. -- SOME MORE BELLE DAME

V. -- THEY SELDOM SAY NO

VI. -- NIGHT PIECE

VII. -- THE CLOVEN HOOF

VIII. -- MONEY FROM HOME

IX. -- A MATTER OF TECHNIQUE

X. -- MIDNIGHT DIALOGUE

XI. -- ANYTHING BUT THE TRUTH

XII. -- BLUFF FOR THREE

XIII. -- UNLUCKY FOR NOBODY

I. -- RUSTIC INTERLUDE

THE Crescent & Star, set a quarter of a mile from the main highway, was reached by a winding leafy lane that promised adventure at each turn. The inn—an antique Manor House—small, compact; endowed with the peculiar atmospherics which some old houses possess—stood fifty yards off the lane at the end of a narrow carriage drive. At the back of the house, shrubs, bushes and gorse grew thickly. The gardens in front of it, untended through scarcity of labour, added a touch of mysterious wildness to a spot already amply endowed with beauty. Great untended rhododendron bushes flanked the driveway, many of them so overgrown that a car must push its way through their thick branches.

Not many people knew of The Crescent & Star. Those who did were the more happy. For Mrs Melander, the hostess, was a lady of a certain charm, acumen and versatility. Sometimes the inn was full, but often, as just now, it was empty except for two guests. On such occasions Mrs Melander—who, as has been suggested, was a woman of discernment—and her two daughters Suzanne and Emilienne, provided adequate if not delightful company.

It was raining. It had rained for six hours unceasingly. Dark clouds turned the August evening prematurely into something like night. The rhododendron bushes dripped. An antiquated owl, denizen of one of the trees in the wood near the inn, hooted dolorously as if he had made up his mind to contribute something to the sombre atmosphere which enshrouded him. Rivulets of rain ran from the gutterspouts and splashed into the narrow stone courtyard at the side of the hotel in miniature cascades.

Windemere Nikolls came unsteadily through the French windows at the side of the house on to the verandah. He stood swaying a little, looking with glassy eyes towards the wood. Nikolls was cockeyed. He was wondering whether he was really hearing the owl.

He was of middle height, broad-shouldered and big. He ran a little to stomach. He was one of those men whose trousers' waistband seems always a trifle too tight. He moved lightly but unsteadily along the verandah, round its continuation to the back, where at the centre it was bisected by ten wooden steps leading down to the lawn.

Suzanne Melander was sitting on the top step protected by the verandah awning, her shapely chin cupped in one hand. She looked at Nikolls sideways. She said:

'Well, how is he?'

Nikolls leaned against the wooden pillar that supported the verandah awning. He yawned ponderously. He said:

'Babe, I reckon you're in love with that guy.'

She looked towards the wood. She said coolly: 'Well, supposing I said I was! What then, Mr Nikolls?'

Nikolls said: 'I wouldn't say a thing. But it just gets me beat, that's all. Why everybody falls for him like they do I don't know.'

She smiled amiably. She said: 'You mean when there are fine specimens of manhood like you about?'

Nikolls hiccoughed a little. He said: 'Listen, what's the matter with me? I reckon I'm a right sorta guy.' He gazed reminiscently towards the damp woods. 'When I was a kid of sixteen,' he said, 'out in Monkton, Ontario, some old dame read my hand. She was a palmist or somethin'. She took one look an' she said: "You know what I can see in your hand?" I told her no—that's what I was payin' her for. She said: "You got women in your hand."'

He felt in his coat pocket; produced a packet of Lucky Strikes; extracted one; lit it. She threw him another look.

'And had you?' she said.

Nikolls went on: 'I don't like the sorta way you say that. Maybe you think I'm no Casanova, but believe me, baby, I've had my moments.'

'They must have been very nice for you,' she said.

'All right... all right...!' said Nikolls. 'I get it. You're sittin' there lookin' at the woods, restin' your chin on your hands an' thinkin' about the big boy upstairs. I know all about it. Just because he kissed you outside the buttery last night you're gettin' ideas, hey? Look, if that guy had a dollar for every woman he'd necked he could buy up Rockefeller about forty times over and not even notice the difference in his pass-book.'

Suzanne said: 'You're quite wrong, Mr Nikolls.' Her expression was demure. 'I was merely thinking that Mr Callaghan has rather a way with him. In spite of oneself one is attracted. He has definitely a technique.'

'Yeah,' said Nikolls. 'So you've discovered that too.'

She asked: 'Could I have one of your cigarettes?'

Nikolls produced the packet; gave her a cigarette; lit it. He sat down on the step beside her.

She said: 'You know the telephone's been ringing the whole evening, don't you? It stopped just before dinner; then it started again.'

Nikolls said: 'Well, why don't somebody answer it?'

She said: 'We've only two maids. One of them is off duty; the other one's in the village seeing her Ma who's ill. There are no guests here except Mr Callaghan and yourself at the moment, and anyhow you know who is ringing. I answered the phone three times this afternoon. It's Miss Thompson from Mr Callaghan's office. She says she wants him urgently and she's very annoyed.'

Nikolls grinned. 'I bet she is,' he said. 'I can just see her. I've got a picture of that baby.'

She drew on her cigarette. She said: 'I take it that Miss Thompson is Mr Callaghan's confidential secretary?'

Nikolls said: 'You take it right. You hit it right on the nose first time, Gorgeous.'

She said diffidently: 'I suppose she's one of the very efficient, prim, bespectacled type?'

Nikolls said: 'Come again, Suzanne. She ain't. I could write an ode to that baby. She's got one of them figures—you know, the sort of thing you think about for no reason at all. She's very easy on the eyes. She's got a graceful walk an' a nice voice. She's got red hair an' green eyes an' a whole lot of intelligence.'

Suzanne Melander sighed. There was a touch of annoyance in the sigh. She said:

'Quite a paragon. We girls in the country trying to run inns miss a lot of fun, I should think.'

Nikolls grinned. 'You ought to be confidential secretaries to private detectives like Slim.'

She said: 'It might have its points.'

Nikolls said: 'I'd like it. Maybe it'd be good if there was a little bit of competition in the office.'

She said: 'I see. It's like that! Is Miss Thompson an admirer of Mr Callaghan's—I mean outside the normal admiration which a secretary sometimes has for her employer?'

Nikolls said: 'If you mean is Effie struck on him, the answer is yes. She's nuts about that mug. That's what burns me up.'

She asked coolly: 'Why?'

Nikolls said: 'Look, I'm a big kind-hearted guy and I got brains. I'm one of those clever sorta detectives, see? I reason things out. I could tell you stories about that guy that'd make your hair curl.'

She said: 'I bet!'

She stubbed out her cigarette on the top step; threw it into a nearby rhododendron bush.

Nikolls said: 'What's on your mind, Gorgeous?'

She said: 'Nothing... much! I was wondering. I was wondering when Mr Callaghan is going to decide to stay sober for a little while.'

Nikolls said: 'Don't you worry about that. He gets that way. We just finished a big case, see? We pulled it off. We won one of the biggest cheques we've ever made in this business.'

She said: 'Of course he's very clever, isn't he?'

'Yeah,' said Nikolls. 'He's clever enough an' he's got me behind him.'

She said: 'Yes, I'd forgotten that.'

'Well, he's sorta lettin' down his hair,' said Nikolls. 'He's relaxin'. I don't mind tellin' you this was a helluva case. Anyway we cracked it. So he thinks it's indicated that we come down here, stick around and do a little drinkin'. He'll get tired of it in a minute.'

Somewhere in the house the telephone bell began to jangle. It went on and on.

Nikolls said: 'Don't that mug at the local exchange ever get tired of ringin' that telephone bell?'

She said: 'No, they just keep on. Sometimes we're on the other side of the house. They do it out of kindness.'

Nikolls said: 'Look, baby, somebody ought to answer that telephone, and it's a helluva long way away. Who's it goin' to be—me or you?'

She said: 'It's not going to be me. I'm off duty. It's going to be you.'

Nikolls sighed. He said: 'I'm sorry for that, and not for the reason you're thinkin' of either. I'll go take that call with pleasure, but I'm disappointed. I wanted you to go.'

She asked: 'Why?'

Nikolls said: 'Because I like to see you walk. You got something. You don't walk—you sorta float along, with that little graceful sway—you know what I mean—that some dames would give a million pounds for. I could just sit around all day an' watch you walkin' about. I like the way you put your feet on the ground. You wear nice shoes an' you got pretty ankles. Maybe I didn't tell you, but I go for ankles in a very, very big way. They're a sorta hobby of mine. I reckon when you walk you look like some sort of goddess. I think you're terrific.'

She sighed. She said: 'Oh, well, now I suppose I'll have to answer the telephone!'

Nikolls grinned. He lit another cigarette.

She got up; walked slowly along the balcony; turned the corner. She was a slim, graceful thing. The telephone bell stopped. She came back; sat down again. She said:

'It would seem that Miss Thompson's hung up. Or else the exchange have got tired of keeping the plug in.'

Nikolls said: 'What does it matter? There's a fate that looks after these things. Maybe if you'd answered that telephone call, all sorts of things woulda happened. But you didn't get there in time so we stay here and look at the rain.' He sighed heavily. 'It reminds me of a Russian Countess I used to know.'

She pretended to yawn. She asked: 'Was she beautiful?'

'Was she beautiful!' said Nikolls. 'That woman was indescribable.'

She said: 'She was mad about you, wasn't she?'

'How did you know?' said Nikolls.

She said: 'During the last four days I've heard that story about the Russian Countess at least six times, and you've told me that one about the strawberry blonde from Oklahoma eleven times. I'm beginning to feel quite familiar with your conquests, Mr Nikolls.'

He said: 'Look, why don't you call me Windy?'

She looked at him along her eyes. She said: 'That is a most sensible request. I will. The name suits you, Windy, dear.'

Nikolls scratched his head. He said nothing.

Effie Thompson opened the door of her sitting-room in Knightsbridge; slammed it behind her; threw her handbag into one corner, her hat on the table. She was white with rage. She stood in the centre of the floor, her hands were clasped behind her back.

She said: 'Damn... damn... damn... !'

She walked to the mantelpiece; took a cigarette out of a box, lit it petulantly; went to the kitchen; put the kettle on. She came back to the sitting-room.

She was of middle height—attractive figure. Her clothes hung on her in the way they should. She wore a neat black coat and skirt, a cream silk shirt. Her red hair was a superb foil for her milk-white complexion.

The telephone rang. She looked at it for a moment angrily. Then she walked across the room and jerked off the receiver. It was Wilkie, the night porter at the Berkeley Square block where Callaghan's offices and flat were housed.

He said: 'Sorry to bother you, Miss Thompson, but the phone's been going like blazes. It's your main line that you put through to my office before you left.'

She said: 'I see, Wilkie. It is still Mrs Denys?'

'Yes,' said Wilkie, 'it's still her. She's pretty worried about something too. She seems to want Mr Callaghan pretty badly.'

Effie said: 'I'll try to get him again from here in a few minutes. When she comes through next time tell her I'm trying to reach him from my flat. If I do I'll call her back.'

Wilkie said: 'All right, Miss Thompson. I'll tell her. Oh, there's another thing—a messenger came round from the bank just after you left. He ought to have been round earlier but something hung him up. He's got a note marked "Urgent."'

'I see,' she said. 'Look, Wilkie, would you mind tearing the note open and reading it over to me?'

He said: 'Righto, Miss Thompson, hang on.' She heard the sound of the envelope being torn. He came on again. He said: 'The note says this: "The Manager presents his compliments to Mr Callaghan, and regrets to inform him that the cheque for four thousand pounds paid into the account two days ago has been returned marked 'R.D.' Cheque enclosed."'

Effie said: 'I see.' She began to smile. It was a wicked little smile. She said: 'Well, perhaps I'll get an answer now. Good night, Wilkie.' She hung up.

She stood looking at the instrument for a moment; then she said: 'I ought to try to ring again but I'm not going to. I'm going to have two cups of tea, two cigarettes and a warm bath. And then perhaps one of you will be sober enough to answer that telephone.'

She flounced out of the room.

The rain had stopped. From behind a rift in the clouds over the hills the sun came through.

Nikolls said: 'Say, look at that rainbow. Now, that's what I call a beauty. You know, Suzanne, I got a developed sense of beauty.'

She said: 'What does that mean?'

He said: 'Well, it means when I see that rainbow I think of you.'

She said: 'Now, I'll tell one.' The telephone began to ring again. She said: 'Somebody ought to answer that telephone and somebody ought to do it quickly, so I'd better go. That'll give you another treat, won't it?'

Nikolls said: 'Go on, honey. The exercise will do you good.'

She got up; tripped quickly along the verandah round into the house. She went through the French windows into the dining-room, across it into the hallway; into the office on the other side of the hallway. She picked up the telephone. The girl at the exchange said:

'You've been a long time, haven't you, Miss Melander?'

'Yes, we've been busy.'

'Hold on,' said the exchange. 'London wants you.'

Effie Thompson's voice—prim and demure—came through. 'Is that The Crescent & Star? Is it possible now to speak to Mr Callaghan or Mr Nikolls? Or are they still indisposed?'

Suzanne said: 'This is Miss Melander, the proprietor's daughter. Would that be Miss Thompson?'

Effie said: 'Yes, it would.'

Suzanne said: 'I've been hearing so much about you, and you have such a delightful voice, I can almost visualize you.'

Effie said: 'That must be very nice for you. Should I be very curious if I asked why you're so interested? I suppose Mr Nikolls has been talking to you?'

Suzanne said: 'Yes, he's an interesting man, isn't he?'

'Very interesting. Of course you're not at all interested in Mr Callaghan are you? That wouldn't be the reason for your curiosity?'

Suzanne said: 'Well, Miss Thompson, I hope I haven't said anything to annoy you. We all think Mr Callaghan is most charming.'

Effie said: 'Well, it seems that you know. Do you think you can get either Mr Callaghan or Mr Nikolls to come to the telephone?'

Suzanne said: 'I think it might almost be impossible. They're having a holiday. They don't seem very keen on answering telephones, especially Mr Callaghan. Mr Callaghan is indisposed.'

Effie said: 'You mean Mr Callaghan is drunk?'

Suzanne said diffidently: 'Well, I think he is a trifle high.'

Effie said: 'How is Mr Nikolls?'

'Mr Nikolls is very well,' said Suzanne. 'We've been sitting on the back porch talking about the weather and Mr Callaghan.'

Effie said: 'All right. That must have been very delightful for you. In the meantime I've been ringing The Crescent & Star from the office and my home since five o'clock this afternoon; and nobody has taken the slightest notice. So would you please go and tell Mr Nikolls to tell Mr Callaghan, no matter what state he may be in, that the cheque for four thousand pounds that went into the bank two days ago has been returned marked "R.D."'

Suzanne said: 'Oh dear! I'll tell Mr Nikolls at once. That's terrible, isn't it?'

Effie said: 'I'll hold on. And it isn't so terrible, Miss Melander. You needn't worry about your bill anyway. In any event I expect Mr Callaghan would find some means of paying it.' Her voice was caustic.

Suzanne gurgled happily. She said: 'What a charming idea, Miss Thompson. I'm so sorry if you feel neglected. Will you hold on?'

Nikolls was at the bottom of the verandah steps throwing stones at a large frog in the lily pond. He said to her as she came down the steps:

'You know that frog is sorta like me—nothin' disturbs the fat slob. I got him a direct hit right on the snitch a minute ago, but he just sorta grinned at me.'

She said: 'That's Miss Thompson of your office on the telephone. She sounds awfully terse. I think she's annoyed about something. She asked me to tell you that the cheque for four thousand pounds which was paid into the bank two days ago has been returned marked "R.D."'

Nikolls threw his cigarette end into the water. He said: 'Jeez! Can you beat that one? Stick around, Suzanne, an' consider the weather till I get back. This is gonna be good.'

He went up the steps to the house.

Suzanne sat down on the bottom step and began to throw little stones at the frog. He had an odd lugubrious expression, she thought—not unlike Nikolls.

She began to think about Nikolls... and Callaghan. She thought they were fun. Especially Mr Callaghan. She liked Mr Callaghan, she thought Mr Callaghan had something. When he kissed you he did it in a remote and impersonal sort of manner—almost as if he were thinking of something else at the time. Perhaps he was! She felt mildly shocked. She made a mental note to ask him about this.

But it was fun having them at The Crescent & Star. It made the place feel sort of adventurous... and rather mysterious. Mr Nikolls... Windy... told the most impossible stories about his amazing adventures. And Mr Callaghan said very little. But a lot went on in his head. Definitely a great deal. Suzanne sighed a little. She wished that she were Miss Thompson and worked for Callaghan Investigations. She thought life might be amusing. She sighed a little more.

Inside the house Nikolls walked slowly to the deserted hotel office. He picked up the telephone.

He said: 'Hello, Delightful. What's cookin' around there?'

Effie Thompson said: 'Mr Nikolls? Thank you for coming to the telephone so quickly. It was kind of you.' Her voice was like ice.

Nikolls said, with a grin: 'I'd do anything for you, babe. It's just too bad about that cheque, hey?'

'Have you told Mr Callaghan?' she asked.

'Nope,' said Nikolls. 'The boy's what they call unapproachable right now. He's just comin' outa one of the finest hangovers on record. I reckon that when I tell him about that cheque bouncin' he's gonna blow up.'

She said: 'You might tell Mr Callaghan that I'm supposed to finish at six o'clock at the office. When you went away you were supposed to be back in four days. That was three weeks ago. Most evenings I've left at about nine...'

Nikolls said: 'Babe, you're wonderful. It's marvellous what a dame will do when she's struck on her boss, ain't it? I knew a sugar once in Arkansas—'

'I don't want to hear about her,' said Effie, 'I'm not stuck on my boss—as you call it. And I wish you wouldn't call me "babe". I don't like it.'

Nikolls sighed. He said: 'O.K.... babe.'

A strangled note came over the line. Nikolls grinned happily. She said:

'When Mr Callaghan is sufficiently sober to listen, you might tell him that a Mrs Denys has been trying to get him all the afternoon and evening. She wants to consult him. She says it's terribly important.'

'Yeah?' said Nikolls. He considered for a moment. 'Maybe we're gonna need some business after that rubber cheque.' he said. 'D'you know anything about this Denys baby?'

'I know nothing except that she wants to see Mr Callaghan and that she says money is no object. She says she's prepared to make any appointment to suit his convenience. I think she's a little scared about something.'

'You don't say,' said Nikolls. 'What does she sound like?'

'If you're talking about her voice, I would say it was a cultured voice. If her looks are as good as her voice even Mr Callaghan might be interested...'

Nikolls came to a conclusion. He said: 'Look, Effie, Slim's gonna be goddam difficult. He's in one of them moods, see? He's been tearin' this place open... kissin' all the daughters, an' generally makin' a lot of nonsense... you know...'

She said: 'I know...'

Nikolls went on: 'I got an idea. When this Denys dame comes through again you tell her to go around to the office. Go back there an' see her. Sorta size her up, see? If she looks O.K. send her down here. If she ain't got a car, ring Hyde an' tell him to drive her down...'

'She has a car,' said Effie. 'She said so.'

'O.K.,' said Nikolls. 'Well, you see her an' get the strength. See? If she looks O.K. you tell her to come down here, an' give me a tinkle when she's gonna make this dump.'

She said: 'Very well... but I think you've got a nerve.'

Nikolls said: 'Do your stuff, honey. Tell me somethin'. What're you wearin', Effie?'

She said: 'I'm wearing a black coat and skirt and a cream silk shirt if you must know. Why?'

Nikolls said in a dreamy voice: 'I was just tryin' to visualize you, Effie. You're my dream girl an' you got the finest hip-line an' ankles I ever met up with. Now I know just how you look I can sleep easy...'

She said: 'One of these fine days I'm going to throw something at you. Incidentally, my hip-line is none of your business...'

'You're tellin' me,' said Nikolls. 'Your hip-line is nobody's business. Listen, Effie... I remember some dame in San Louis Potosi...'

He heard her replace the receiver.

Nikolls hung up. He stood, for a moment, looking at the inanimate telephone; then, with a grin, he walked out of the office, across the oak-panelled hallway, and up the old-fashioned, curving staircase.

Callaghan was lying on the bed, his arms outstretched. He was wearing the legs of a pair of pale grey crepe-de-chine pyjamas, patterned with black fleur-de-lys. His head was turned sideways on the pillow. His breathing was almost stertorous.

His face was long, surmounted by an unruly mass of wavy black hair. The line from the ear to the apex of the jawbone would have inspired a portrait painter. The nostrils were sensitive. His shoulders were broad and tapered to a narrow hipline.

Nikolls stood by the side of the bed looking down at him; then he went to the window and drew the heavy velvet curtains. The evening sunlight came into the room. Callaghan stirred a little; muttered something under his breath. Nikolls went into the bathroom. He came back with a glass of seltzer water in one hand, an empty tooth glass in the other. He went to the dressing-table, on which stood a bottle of whisky; poured four fingers into the tooth glass. He went back to the bed. Placing one of the glasses on the flat top of the bottom bed-post, he pushed one of Callaghan's legs on to the floor. He picked up the glass.

He said: 'Hey, Slim! That Swayle cheque's bounced. What d'you know about that?'

Callaghan opened a baleful eye. He yawned. He opened the other eye and regarded Nikolls vindictively. Nikolls held out the two glasses.

'Which is it goin' to be?' he said. 'Seltzer or the hair of the dog?'

Callaghan took the whisky. He swallowed it; grimaced. He put his hands behind his head and lay looking at the ceiling with eyes that still blinked at the unaccustomed daylight.

He said: 'What did you say?'

Nikolls said: 'Effie's been tryin' to get one of us most of the afternoon. She's pretty steamed up—that one. Nobody took any notice of her.'

Callaghan said: 'Why not? What were you doing?'

Nikolls said: 'Oh, I was discussin' things generally with Suzanne around the back.'

Callaghan said: 'I see. So the Swayle cheque's come back.' He raised his head from the pillow; swung his other foot to the floor; sat on the edge of the bed running his fingers through his hair.

Nikolls grinned. He said: 'I thought maybe that'd please you.'

Callaghan muttered: 'I'm going to do something to Swayle for this.'

'Yeah,' said Nikolls. 'It's not so good. An' after what we did for him. Are you gonna do anything about it?'

Callaghan regarded him malevolently. He said: 'Do I look as if I'm going to do anything about it?' He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. 'Turn on a bath,' he said, 'and give me a little more whisky. And you might tell one of those Melander girls to bring some coffee up. After that get through to Grayson. Tell him to get in touch with Effie and get that stumer cheque from her and issue a writ against Swayle.'

'O.K.,' said Nikolls. He went into the bathroom.

Callaghan got up. He walked across the bedroom and stood looking out of the window towards the woods at the back of the house. After a moment he went to the dressing-table; picked up a cigarette, lit it, grimaced, threw it in the fireplace. He got the tooth glass; drank another three fingers of whisky. He began to feel a little better.

He put on a dressing-gown that matched the pyjamas and began to walk up and down the bedroom. He walked with the controlled anger of a caged tiger.

Nikolls came out of the bathroom. He said: 'I put a coupla pounds of soda in your bath. They tell me it's a very good thing.'

Callaghan asked: 'For what?'

'For whisky,' said Nikolls. 'I thought maybe you'd want to do a little thinkin'.'

Callaghan said: 'What do I want to think about?'

Nikolls said: 'I wouldn't know.' He went out of the room.

Callaghan was still walking up and down when Suzanne Melander knocked on the door. She came in with the coffee.

She said: 'Good evening, Mr Callaghan. I hope I find you well.'

Callaghan took the coffee. He said: 'I'm very well, thank you, Suzanne.'

She said: 'Please tell me something. Do you ever kiss anybody and while you're kissing them you find yourself thinking of something else?'

Callaghan sat on the bed and sipped coffee. He looked at her darkly. He said: 'When I'm kissing who?'

Suzanne pleated her skirt with two fingers. She said demurely: 'Well... me, for instance

Callaghan sipped some more coffee. He said: 'I wouldn't know. Did I ever kiss you at any time?' He smiled at her.

Suzanne swore mildly under her breath. She thought Well, my girl, you asked for it and you got it.

Callaghan looked at her sideways. He smiled pleasantly. He said: 'Suzanne, would you do something for me?'

She said: 'Of course, Mr Callaghan.'

Callaghan said: 'Just close the door very quietly... from the outside... there's a good girl...'

Suzanne gasped a little. She went away. Outside, in the corridor, she said one or two very trenchant things about Mr Callaghan. Then she went downstairs.

As she reached the bottom of the staircase, the telephone bell began to ring. She started to walk towards the office. Nikolls came from the dining-room; got there first. He said as he passed her in the hallway:

'It's all right, honey. This is for me.'

It was Effie Thompson. She said: 'Mr Nikolls, I'm speaking from the office. Mrs Denys has just gone. She seems an extremely responsible person. I should say she has money. She's prepared to pay Mr Callaghan a retainer of a thousand pounds if he'll look after the business she wants him to.'

'Nice work, Effie,' said Nikolls. 'What did you tell her?'

She said: 'I told her what you said. She's on her way down now. She ought to be with you in about an hour.'

Nikolls said: 'That ought to be fun. O.K., Effie.'

She asked: 'How did Mr Callaghan like hearing about the Swayle cheque?'

Nikolls said: 'It did the trick. He's up. He's taking an interest in life. First thing in the morning ring through to Grayson; send him that cheque round and tell him to issue a writ against Swayle. You got that?'

She said: 'Yes, I've got that.' She paused; then: 'By the way, does Mr Callaghan know Mrs Denys is coming down?'

Nikolls grinned. He said: 'No, I didn't tell him. I thought he might like a pleasant little surprise.'

She said: 'I hope you're right. Anyhow, as far as looks are concerned his surprise at seeing Mrs Denys should be pleasant enough.'

'You don't say!' said Nikolls. 'So it's like that! She's a looker, hey?'

'Yes, Mr Nikolls,' said Effie. 'She's what you'd call a looker. Well, is that all?'

Nikolls said: 'Yeah, I think you've done a swell job.'

She said: 'I'm glad you like it.' She hung up.

Nikolls went out into the hallway. Suzanne Melander said:

'Mr Nikolls, Mr Callaghan is going to have supper in an hour. What do you think he'd like to eat?'

'I wouldn't know,' said Nikolls. 'If he eats at all I'll be surprised. But I'm glad you mentioned it. We'll have that nice table by the French windows, and you'd better lay it for three. We got company.'

He began to walk up the stairs towards Callaghan's room.

II. -- LA BELLE DAME

IT was eleven-thirty. Callaghan stood before the fireplace in the small office parlour. He was wearing a blue pinhead suit, a light blue silk shirt and collar, navy blue tie. He had a glass of brandy in one hand; a cigarette hung from the corner of his mouth. He was not so tired as bad-tempered.

Nikolls, stretched in one of the big leather armchairs that flanked the fireplace, blew a ruminative smoke ring.

He said: 'She oughta be here by now—that dame. If she left at ten o'clock she oughta been here just after eleven. Maybe she didn't like it because the roads are wet. Maybe she's a bad driver. Maybe she's just indifferent.'

Callaghan said: 'Perhaps she put the car in a ditch. I don't think I'd mind a bit.'

'Yeah?' said Nikolls. 'That's the way you're feelin'. You'll be all right in the morning. Me—I been thinkin' about your stomach. I been talkin' about it with Mrs Melander. She reckons she only knew one guy who drank more than you do. She's got an idea that you got yourself so goddam pickled inside that you're practically waterproof. You musta drunk two bottles of whisky this afternoon besides the Bacardi you had this mornin'. You must be built like a battleship.'

Callaghan said: 'Maybe, but that doesn't help. How do I know I want to see this Mrs Denys? This is supposed to be a holiday.'

'I know,' said Nikolls, 'but I reckon it's been goin' on too long—this holiday. I reckon if something don't get you back to work you'll turn into a rustic with hay in your hair. Besides, Effie thinks this Denys dame is a proposition.'

Suzanne Melander came in. She carried a coffee service on a silver tray in her hands. She put it down on the table near Callaghan. She said:

'Believe it or not, Mr Callaghan, but a most beautiful person has just arrived in a very large car. A unique creature. She wants to see you.'

Nikolls sighed. 'The customer's arrived,' he said. 'Say, Suzanne, what does she look like?'

She said: 'Too amazing for words. She's a brunette with the most marvellous skin and a very attractive nose. I liked the shape of her face and she has a delightful mouth—also a charmingly mischievous look in her eyes.'

Callaghan yawned. He said: 'Wonderful! I can hardly wait.'

Nikolls said: 'Sounds sorta interestin'. What was she wearin'? Did her clothes look good?'

Suzanne sighed. 'They looked very good to me. I'm burning with envy. Would you like an exact description, Mr Nikolls? Well... she's wearing a very well-cut grey flannel coat and skirt and a pale grey organdie blouse with red pin-spots. A grey felt pull-on hat with silk corded ribbon in red and grey, very attractive court shoes and brown pigskin driving gauntlets. Definitely a sight for tired eyes.'

Callaghan asked: 'Where is this wondrous being?'

Suzanne said: 'She's powdering her nose. She should be here in a minute. She stopped for supper on the way.'

Nikolls heaved himself out of the chair. He followed Suzanne Melander out of the room. He stood in the hallway looking down the passage; then he turned quickly and came back into the room. He said:

'Boy, is she wonderful! Now I've seen everything.'

The woman came out of the shadows of the hallway across the threshold. She looked from Nikolls to Callaghan with a smile—an attractive friendly smile. She was entirely poised, absolutely at ease. She said:

'I'm Paula Denys. I expect you're Mr Callaghan.'

Callaghan said: 'Correct. At your service, I hope.'

She said: 'I hope so too.'

Nikolls pushed up one of the big armchairs. He said: 'I reckon you're tired. Take your weight off your feet, Mrs Denys. Relax. You're with friends.'

She smiled at him. 'I'm glad of that,' she said. 'I've an idea I'm going to need them.' She looked at Callaghan. She said demurely: 'Are you going to help me, Mr Callaghan?'

Callaghan said: 'I'm not sure. I came down here for a holiday, but it seems that the holiday's been getting the better of me.'

'Too bad,' she said. 'Too much rain?'

Nikolls said: 'No—too much whisky. For the last three or four days this place has been like Chicago under prohibition.'

'Dear... dear...' said Mrs Denys. 'It seems as if I've come at the right time.'

Callaghan said: 'I wonder. Would you like to pour out the coffee?'

She said: 'I'd love to. And I see there's a cup for me.'

'You bet,' said Nikolls. 'Callaghan Investigations thinks of everything. We give our clients coffee—'

'And what do they give you?' she asked.

Nikolls sighed. 'Practically everything they've got,' he said. 'We're an expensive firm.'

Callaghan said: 'Mrs Denys, this is Windemere Nikolls, my assistant. He's a Canadian. His bark is very much worse than his bite.'

Nikolls said: 'Don't you take any notice of him, lady. I never bite the customers.'

She said: 'You know I think I'm going to like you both very much. I've only been here a few seconds and I feel I'm with friends.'

She poured out the coffee. Most of the time her eyes were on Callaghan. Without making any pretence, she took in every detail of his face and clothes. She gave the impression of submitting him to the closest scrutiny.

Callaghan yawned again. He lit a fresh cigarette and stood looking straight in front of him. He said:

'All this is very nice, but I think my secretary may have been a little premature in sending you down here, Mrs Denys. I think I ought to tell you that I haven't made up my mind as to whether I'll handle your business.'

She said: 'Mr Callaghan, I hope you will. And just to show that I mean business may I produce to you one excellent reason for your handling it?'

Callaghan said: 'I'd like to hear it.'

She said: 'It would be much better for you to see it.' She opened her handbag; brought out a wad of banknotes. She handed them to Callaghan. 'There is a thousand pounds there, Mr Callaghan,' she said. 'That is your retainer if you consent to help me. Naturally, I expect you to put a further bill in if the matter is completed successfully. You'll find that I seldom argue about money.'