The Numbered Account (29 page)

The old woman drew herself up, a most dignified figure in her shabby black and her curious apron.

‘The Herr de Ritter booked the rooms; therefore he shall pay the bill,' she pronounced firmly.

‘Sehr gut
—as you wish,' Julia said, smiling her slow smile. ‘But can one fetch a taxi while the
Gepäck
is being brought down? We are a little in haste.'

Frau Göttinger bent on Julia then a glance suddenly full of meaning—comprehension? complicity?—the girl could not be sure. But Heinrich was summoned by an imperative shout to bring down June's luggage, and a girl in an apron stained by cooking was bidden to go and fetch a taxi.
‘Aber die Schürze zuerst abnehmen!'
Frau Göttinger said, brusquely pulling off the soiled apron. ‘
Schnell, Luise.'
And five minutes later Julia, June, and all June's luggage drove away from the Golden Bear, that very ungilded cage; to Julia's surprise the old woman gave the girl a kiss, saying
‘Gott geh mit Dir, mein Kind.'

‘What did that mean, what she said?' June enquired, as they turned out of the square.

‘God go with you, my child.'

‘Oh. Oh how funny.' A pause. ‘Rather nice, wasn't it?' June said thoughtfully.

‘Very nice indeed. Now June, we haven't much time; will you tell me what it was you overheard, that you thought I should like to know?'

‘Oh, I heard the two of them, Mr. B. and Wright, talking about those papers we got from the bank, that I was telling you about. It seems they want to give them to some people coming from outside, from Germany, I think; and they were discussing where to do it—on the quiet, not here in Interlarken.'

‘And did they settle where they would do it?' Julia asked casually, though she was burning with interest.

‘Yes. On a bus tour!' June brought out, with her usual giggle. ‘Mr. B. said there was a bus that ‘does all three passes'—whatever passes are. Not passes at a girl, I don't suppose; not in a bus! Anyhow that's what they said—“the three passes tour”. And when these Jerries come—today or tomorrow, so I understood—Mr. B. and Wright will go on the same bus, and give them the papers somewhere on the way.'

‘Thank you very much, June.'

‘Does that help you? I want to help you.'

‘Yes, it helps me a lot.' The taxi, Julia observed, was now approaching the street in which Dr. Hertz's Clinic stood—hastily, she rode at her next fence.

‘Listen, June. You know that Mr. Borovali isn't really Monsieur de Ritter, don't you?'

‘Yes, of course.'

‘Well to get you away from him—Borovali—I had to arrange for you to stay somewhere, and the only nice place I knew of out here was the house of the real Mr. de Ritter, who's Aglaia Armitage's guardian. So I've fixed that up, and we're meeting him now, in a minute, and he will drive you home, and he and his wife will look after you till I can come and take you back to England.'

June was absolutely horrified—her reaction startled Julia by its violence.

‘Oh, Miss Probyn, I
can't!
Not go and stay with that man. Oh, this is awful! Let's stop'—she started to hammer on the glass of the taxi; Julia pulled the small hands away and held them.

‘June, don't be foolish. He knows all about it.'

‘Knows about me? Pretending to be that heiress, and all?'

‘Yes, everything. I told him on the telephone when I settled it.'

‘And just the same he'll have me in his house? But that other girl that I'm so like, whose money Mr. B. has taken, is his god-child!'

‘Of course, but when I told him the trouble you were in, and asked if they could put you up, do you know what he said? He called you his “god-daughter at one remove”. Don't worry, June—it will be all right.'

‘Well! He must be someone!' June exclaimed. ‘I never heard anything like it; really I never did. But are you sure—'

At this point the taxi stopped outside Dr. Hertz's Clinic; across the street she saw with satisfaction the Frégate drawn in to the kerb, and Jean-Pierre himself standing smoking a cigarette in the sun beside his car. She jumped out and went over to him.

‘There you are! This is so very good of you. But look, the little creature is in a panic; I had to tell her your name, and that you were the reality which her horrible Middle-Eastern slave-driver has been impersonating, and it has upset her terribly. So can you be tremendously reassuring?'

The Pastor wrung her hand, laughing heartily.

‘How nice to see you! I only wish you were coming with us. Of course I will do my best—it is really a main part of my profession to administer reassurance! Is that her, in the taxi?' He started to cross the empty street, but checked mid-way. ‘Good heavens, what an extraordinary resemblance! For a moment I thought it was Aglaia herself.'

‘That's what those beastly people engaged the poor little wretch
for,'
Julia said, moving on towards the taxi. Jean-Pierre caught her arm and halted her.

‘But how could they find her? This is so strange.'

‘Oh, she's a model-girl, or whatever they call it; she sits to be photographed for advertisements—in her case
mostly her feet and ankles, to display shoes. All they had to do was to ruffle through the files in all the advertising agencies till they came on someone reasonably like Aglaia. In fact this girl, June Phillips, really has brown hair; they had it bleached for this job.'

‘This is horrible,' Jean-Pierre said, slowly walking forward again.

‘Of course. The modern world is horrible, beyond belief; personally, I regard the atom bomb as one of its more respectable features.'

Jean-Pierre's loud laughter at this observation was still filling the small quiet street as he approached the taxi, and this produced a slightly reassuring effect on June when he went up and opened the door.

‘Good-morning, Miss Phillips,' he said, shaking her hand. ‘I am so glad that you are coming to pay us a visit, and so is my wife. All our daughters are married, and we miss them; we shall enjoy having a young girl about the house again.' He told the taxi-man to cross over and pull up behind the Frégate to simplify moving the luggage from one car to the other; the man did so. June had made no reply to his welcoming words; when Julia went to help her out she saw that tears were pouring down the pretty foolish little face.

‘June, dear, what is the matter? Do stop crying, and come into the other car. You've got to drive quite a long way, you know.'

‘He's too good and too kind!' June sobbed out. ‘I can't understand it. I don't deserve it.'

‘Which of us deserves all the kindness we get? I know I don't,' Julia said. ‘The only thing we can do is to give as little trouble as possible to the people who are being kind to us. Come on—hop out.'

During this interchange the Pastor and the taxi-driver had been switching June's luggage from the cab to the car; when the girl got out and hobbled along to the Frégate Jean-Pierre looked at her with concern.

‘But she is lame!' he said to Julia, when June had been bestowed in the front seat.

‘Yes, she sprained her ankle the other day, up on the Niederhorn. I wanted to tell you about that—Dr. Hertz has been treating her here, but a good doctor ought to see it from time to time, and say what she may and mayn't do. Her feet and ankles are her bread and butter. Hertz said she was to use it a little every day, and she can get up and down stairs all right; but I'm afraid she won't be mobile enough to be much help to Germaine. I am sorry—I ought to have told you about this before, but I was concentrating on getting her away.'

‘That aspect is quite unimportant,' he said, brushing aside any possible inconvenience from having a female criminal who was also lame foisted on his household. ‘As to her foot, it can easily be seen to; I often have to go to Lausanne, where the doctors are
hors concours'.
He paused.

‘I'll get all that paid, of course,' Julia said, thinking that in view of June's information about the bus tour the Secret Service, in the shape of Colin or Antrobus, might well pay for the child's medical expenses.

‘Another aspect of no importance,' Jean-Pierre said, quickly though smilingly. ‘Many of our doctors do half their work for love, as I believe yours do also.'

‘I daresay they did before the Welfare State came in,' Julia replied rather acidly. ‘Now I think the National Health Service has spoiled the old easy comfortable family-doctor business, and the all-for-free treatment of the poor. For one thing there are no poor now.'

‘So? That is very sad. But I am thinking—should not Dr. Hertz perhaps see her before she leaves? Here we are precisely at his Clinic.'

Julia looked at her watch; it was exactly half past twelve.

‘No. There's not time enough to be safe; without an appointment one may have to wait ages. Anyhow he saw her yesterday. No,' she said again—‘I'd rather you cleared off at once. Goodbye. I can't thank you enough for doing this. My love to Germaine.' She went and leant in at the door of the Frégate.

‘Goodbye, June dear. I shall be coming to pick you up
very soon, and meantime the Pastor will get a doctor to keep an eye on your ankle.'

‘The what?' June asked—the word ‘Pastor' had caught her ear. ‘Is the gentleman a minister? Dad was Presbyterian.'

‘Really? Yes, I think it's all more or less the same,' Julia said, trying vainly to remember how much Calvin and John Knox had had in common. ‘You can ask him. Goodbye. Thank you very much for what you told me just now; that may be quite a help.'

Once again the little Londoner startled Julia.

‘You
won't go after them on this bus trip, will you? Oh don't,
please!
They both carry revolvers!—and Mr. B., he'd stick at nothing.'

‘No, I'm sure I shan't. Don't worry, June dear—bless you.' She gave the girl a quick kiss, and turned and bade Jean-Pierre goodbye. With the utmost satisfaction she watched him manœuvre his car round at the end of the street and drive back past her, waving as he went. Anyhow June was sorted—one job cleared up, and a main one.

The taxi-man was patiently waiting. ‘
Das Fräulein
desires to return to the Bear?' he asked.

‘No, not to the Bear.' Where should she go to try to put a call through to Antrobus? She had his number. ‘To Schuhs' she said, getting in. Surely a big place like Schuhs would have a telephone-box?—and please God with a door that shut! Like all English visitors to Switzerland she glanced anxiously at the meter as they drove off; to her surprise it registered only the minimum price. Julia spoke through the front window.

‘You have been paid to the Clinic?'

‘Ja. Der Herr
paid me, while
das Fräulein
was consoling
das Mädchen'.

Julia laughed rather wryly to herself. Switzerland might be the oldest democracy in the world, but even among its taxi-drivers social
nuances
were recognised: she was ‘The Small Lady,' poor June only ‘the Girl'. As the taxi passed along the main street towards Schuhs she caught sight of two men, one tall and graceful, the other rather stocky
and bearded, turning down the little side street that led towards the Cantonal-Platz—Wright and Borovali, both looking as sour as vinegar. What would they say when they found their wretched captive gone? Poor Frau Göttinger! But she was well able to defend herself. At the sight of the two discomfited crooks Julia laughed again, this time with full-hearted pleasure.

Chapter 12
The Passes

There was a telephone-box at Schuhs, and Julia got Antrobus at once. ‘I have a little news-item,' she told him.

‘Where are you speaking from?'

‘Schuhs.'

‘Have you had lunch?'

‘Goodness no!—I've only just finished off-loading the little party.'

‘Then why not come and eat something with me? Where we lunched yesterday? Was that all right?'

‘Yes, lovely. I shall have Brienzerli again. When?'

‘Now. It's not two minutes from where you are.'

‘All right. Only oughtn't I to have an ice or something for the good of the house, after telephoning? No, I know— I'll buy some cakes for Mrs. H.'

She bought her cakes, and then wandered along the walk beside the Hohe Matte, lingering to smell the newlymown hay and to gaze up the valley at the Jungfrau; when she turned into the garden she saw, with a small throb of delight, Antrobus already seated at a table, two misty glasses of iced Cinzano before him. He got up.

‘Darling, you've taken rather a time. What have you been doing?'

‘Looking at the Jungfrau,' Julia said, sitting down and putting the parcel of cakes under her chair.

‘Quite a good excuse, as they go. Now take your drink —has it got hot? No? Well half-way through it I hope you will feel strong enough to pass on your news.'