The Numbered Account (10 page)

The waiting-room was as rich as all the rest—a big desk, heavy leather armchairs, a deep pile carpet, some quite tolerable modern paintings on the walls. But the sun struck full into the room, and it was hot and stuffy; Julia went over and threw open a glass door onto a balcony. This was surrounded by window-boxes full of petunias and godetias—she was thinking how early it was for these
to be in bloom when the door opened, and a man came in, holding de Ritter's card in his hand.

‘I am Monsieur Chambertin,' he said. ‘What can I do for you?'

Julia took against Chambertin from the start. He was a short man; younger than she had expected, but somehow with an elderly expression, suspicious and slightly sour. As he seated himself behind the desk she decided that this was going to be a sticky interview; and sticky indeed it proved.

She began confidently enough, however.

‘You are doubtless aware that Monsieur le Pasteur de Ritter is the
parrain
and also the guardian of Mademoiselle Aglaia Armitage?'

‘Certainement,'
he said very coldly—indeed he seemed to stiffen a little at the girl's name.

‘I come on her behalf—with Monsieur de Ritter's authority, as you see.'

‘Mademoiselle, I do
not
see. This card refers only to
“des affaires bancaires”
, not to Mademoiselle Armitage at all.'

Julia apologised and handed over the Pastor's letter. ‘I have other authorities also—pray have the goodness to regard them.' She opened her large lizard bag and drew out the documents from England, which she laid before him on the desk: the copy of Thalassides' will, attested by his lawyers; the authorisations from Aglaia's bank and lawyers to hand over any or all of the property to Miss Julia Probyn, if so requested; finally the photostat of the death certificate, so liberally covered with official stamps. M. Chambertin, adjusting a pair of pince-nez, began to look at them, at first with a rather contemptuous air; but as he read through paper after paper his expression changed from contempt to one of bewildered consternation.
‘Mais c'est impossible, cela!'
he muttered to himself; then he rounded quickly on Julia.

‘Might I see your passport, Mademoiselle?' he asked. For the first time there was nothing disagreeable in his manner, only what she recognised as genuine concern.
She handed over her passport—he studied it, looked at the photograph, looked at Julia, and then raised his hands in a helpless gesture of despair.

‘This is all completely incomprehensible!' he said.

‘Why?' Julia asked. ‘Surely these papers are incontestably in order? What is the difficulty?'

‘Simply that Mademoiselle Armitage called here in person last week, and took reception of the money in the account.'

‘And took the'—Julia checked herself in time. ‘Took
everything
that you held in Monsieur Thalassides' numbered Konto?'

‘Yes—all.'

Julia stood up. She was tall; at that moment she was menacing.

‘Monsieur Chambertin, you have been duped! Miss Armitage sailed for the Argentine to visit her mother on the 14th of May, the day before I left for Switzerland myself.'

‘How do you know this?'

‘It was in all the English papers. As Monsieur Thalassides' heiress, whatever she does is news.'

‘
La presse
can make mistakes,' Chambertin said, with the air of a man clutching at a straw.

‘Hardly, in such a case. But in any event her fiancé would not; and he is my cousin.' She paused, thinking with intensity of the girl Watkins had noticed at Victoria, and of her two companions. ‘Did Mademoiselle Armitage come alone?' she asked, sitting down again.

‘But naturally not—she is not of age. Her guardian was with her, and gave the authorisation.'

Julia was a little shaken by this.

‘Do you mean Monsieur le Pasteur de Ritter?' she asked incredulously. ‘Did you see him? He says he knows you.'

‘No—I myself did not,' Chambertin replied, a little unhappily.

‘Then who did? I can't believe it was Monsieur Dutour; he is a personal friend of the Pastor's too.'

M. Chambertin looked more unhappy than ever.

‘No. It was Monsieur de Kessler, another of our directors, who conducted this interview.'

‘Does he know Monsieur Jean-Pierre de Ritter personally?' Julia asked sharply.

‘No, he does not.' M. Chambertin's unhappiness was now marked.

‘Ah. I expect these people carefully asked to see
him
, instead of you or Monsieur Dutour,' Julia said. ‘They are probably very well-informed.' Her confidence mounted with her anger. ‘Monsieur Chambertin, I think we had better see Monsieur de Kessler.'

‘So do I,' he agreed uncomfortably, and spoke into the desk telephone. He turned back to Julia. ‘I can assure you that Mademoiselle Armitage and her party produced correct documents. We are extremely particular in these matters.'

‘Oh, I am sure you are.' But she pounced on the word ‘party'. ‘There was a third?'

‘I understood that the fiancé of Mademoiselle Armitage was also present.'

‘Nonsense! Her fiancé is in London. I have been speaking to him there on the telephone. And you should perhaps know that I came to Geneva yesterday from La Cure at Bellardon, where I have been staying for the last week; therefore
I
know perfectly well that
Monsieur de Ritter
knows perfectly well that Mademoiselle Aglaia Armitage, for the past fortnight, has been on a steamer on her way to the Argentine. Certainly her guardian never came here last week. Would he have given me this letter of authorisation if he had?'

Before Chambertin could answer the door opened and a white-haired man with a pleasant pink face walked in; he was really old, without any doubt.

‘Ah,
mon cher de Kessler
, how good of you to come up,' Chambertin said respectfully, rising as he spoke—it was evident that de Kessler was very senior among the directors. ‘May I present you to Mademoiselle Probyn?'

De Kessler beamed on Julia as he bowed to her, and then asked Chambertin, rather bluntly, what he wanted?

‘A little more information about Mademoiselle Armitage's fortune. Mademoiselle Probyn has been spending the past week at La Cure at Bellardon, and brings me now a letter from Monsieur le Pasteur de Ritter, in a handwriting which I recognise well, giving the number of the late Monsieur Thalassides' Konto and requesting me to hand everything over to her, Miss Probyn. But I understand that you have already dealt with this matter yourself.'

‘Certainly—the account has been closed. Mademoiselle Armitage came in person—a charming young lady.' He still only looked a little puzzled, and definitely repressive to his junior colleague.

‘You saw her passport?' Chambertin asked.

‘But naturally.'

‘And made a note of the number?'

‘Certainly.'

‘She provided you with
des pièces justificatives
which satisfied you?'

‘My good Chambertin, for what do you take me? I work in this bank for forty-five years! What is all this? Why these questions?'

‘I too come on behalf of Mademoiselle Armitage,' Julia put in, ‘and I fear very much that something may have gone wrong—some confusion have occurred. As you know, Mademoiselle Armitage is not of age, and cannot yet take control of her fortune.'

‘Bien entendu
, Mademoiselle. But there was no confusion; she was accompanied by her guardian, who signed all the receipts.' He looked more puzzled, now, and turned to Chambertin. ‘You know Monsieur le Pasteur de Ritter? A man of a very old and respected Bernois family.'

Again Julia spoke before Chambertin could reply.

‘But you, yourself, are not personally acquainted with Monsieur de Ritter?'

‘Till last week, no—only by reputation.'

Chambertin made to speak; Julia gestured him to silence.

‘Monsieur de Kessler, this guardian who signed the
receipts—was he tallish, rather stout, and with an iron-grey beard slightly parted in the middle?'

‘Exactement
, Mademoiselle,' de Kessler said, looking relieved. Julia quickly put a term to his relief.

‘Monsieur Chambertin, would you be so good as to describe your old friend Monsieur de Ritter to your colleague? He is more likely to believe you than me.'

In pitiable embarrassment, but firmly, Chambertin said—
‘Mon cher
, the Pasteur de Ritter, whom I have known for thirty years, is a short man, and noticeably slender.'

‘Clean-shaven, also,
n'est-ce-pas?
' Julia added.

‘Yes—certainly.' While de Kessler gaped Chambertin turned to Julia and asked—‘How comes it that you know so well the appearance of—of the man who came and signed the receipts?'

‘The impostor, you mean? Oh, I happened to see him, and the girl who was impersonating Miss Armitage, on my way here; they travelled to Calais on the same train.'

De Kessler, now quite bewildered, said irritably—‘Mademoiselle, what is all this talk of impostors and impersonators?'

Instead of answering him, Julia turned to his colleague.

‘Monsieur Chambertin, wouldn't it be as well to let Monsieur de Kessler see the documents
I
have brought?' ‘Certainly.
Les voici, mon cher.'

De Kessler went round behind the desk, put on his glasses, and studied Julia's papers, muttering to himself as he did so:—‘The bankers, yes, and the lawyers; the executors, yes; and the British Consul-General in Istanbul has
gestempelt
the death certificate.' Last of all he read de Ritter's letter; then turned back and read the date aloud
—‘C'est hier!'
Now thoroughly upset, he turned to Chambertin. ‘But this is impossible!'

‘Oh no, Monsieur de Kessler—unfortunately it's all too possible,' Julia said. ‘You have been tricked by a gang of crooks.'

The old man drew himself up (to Julia it was the most pitiable thing of all) and said:

‘Mademoiselle, this does not happen with la Banque Républicaine!'

‘Well, it has happened this time,' Julia said crisply; she was sorry for the old man, but more important things than his feelings were at stake. She turned to Chambertin. ‘Do ring up Monsieur de Ritter now, and ask him if he really came in last week and signed Miss Armitage's fortune away? That will settle it. I know he didn't; but it may satisfy Monsieur de Kessler.'

‘Mademoiselle, I accept
no
statements made over the telephone,' de Kessler said angrily.

‘Oh very well—then we must drag the wretched man down here.'

Chambertin was fluttering the telephone book. ‘Fri-bourg is 037,' Julia told him, ‘and La Cure is 1101.' When the call came through she firmly took the receiver.
‘Allo? Ah, c'est toi, Germaine. Ici Julia. Est-ce que Jean-Pierre est là? Ah, très-bien—j'attends.'
She noted the effect of all these Christian names on the two bankers while she waited, receiver in hand. When Jean-Pierre came to the telephone she spoke rapidly in English. ‘Listen, I am at the bank. There has been a complete disaster, which I would rather not discuss on the telephone. Is there the least possibility that you could come down—this afternoon?'

‘Only with great difficulty? Why?—what is happening?'

‘We have been too slow. Those I spoke of have been ahead of us, and have gone off with everything. Someone else signed for them in your name.'

‘But this could not happen! Both the men whose names I gave you know me perfectly well.'

‘Of course they do. But unfortunately these persons must have known this too, and were sharp enough to ask for another director—
un charmant vieux monsieur qui ignorait les faits essentiels, et s'est laissé duper.'
Julia said the last words in French, deliberately—she saw that cheerful pink face become crimson.

‘Le vieux de Kessler?'
came down the line.

‘Exactement
. And he now refuses to accept any statement
on the telephone—that is why I must put you to this trouble. I do apologise; it is not my fault.'

There was a pause. At last—‘Yes, very well,' the Pastor said. ‘Who received you?'

‘Monsieur Chambertin.'

‘Then please tell him I will be with him at half past four o'clock,
à peu près'

‘I would rather you told him yourself'—and she handed the receiver over.

The Pastor had a very resonant voice, and Julia could just hear his words.
‘Mon cher Alcide
, what are your co-directors up to? This is frightful, what has taken place. I shall be with you between four and half past, and please arrange for your colleague to be present, and see that we are given admittance. Tell Mademoiselle that I will call for her at her hotel on the way.'

Chambertin transmitted both these messages, adding afterwards to de Kessler—‘
C'est bien Jean-Pierre
—I cannot mistake his voice.'

Julia had been thinking as well as overhearing.

‘Monsieur Chambertin, surely these people ought to be traced, if possible. Did they give Monsieur de Kessler any address?'

De Kessler said only La Cure at Bellardon, and for the
demoiselle
an address in London. ‘
Chez une certaine Madame Conway, à Kensington.'

‘That's Aglaia's aunt, of course—that's no help. They gave no indication of their movements?' she asked de Kessler.

‘La demoiselle
spoke of visiting Interlaken, to see the Jungfrau; nothing more. The
fiancé
spoke of making some ascensions.'

‘Ah yes, the
fiancé
. Was he tall, dark, with a markedly olive complexion, and the figure of an athlete?' Julia enquired.

‘C'est exacte
, Mademoiselle,' the old man said. Chambertin had a question to put.