The Portuguese Escape (30 page)

‘They
did
come here!' Luzia said to him excitedly as he came up. ‘Did I not tell you they would? And they went into this house to drink wine, and ate an omelette, and bought some bread and cheese, and made enquiries about the roads to Lucenza and Baltar.
She
was with them! While they were within—they got here just before seven o'clock—Francisco put a knife in all their tyres! Martinez has sprained his ankle, that is why he sent Francisco; if he had come himself he would not have let them go.'

‘Oh, they've gone, have they? Where to, and how?'

‘Back to Chaves. There is a sort of taxi in the town, and when they found their tyres flat, they took it; Senhor Antonio here'—she indicated the tubby figure of the innkeeper—‘got it for them.'

‘That must be that ghastly old rattle-trap we met on the road,' said Julia, who with Mr. Waller had now joined the group. ‘How maddening!—I wish we'd ditched it! Then we should have got her by now.' She turned to the inn-keeper. ‘
Que pena
that you ordered the
carro
for these people. They are Communistas!'

Minha Senhora
, I did not know! How could I know? And they offered poor Pedro such a magnificent price to drive them to Chaves—he with all those children, and for weeks now not a single person requiring his machine! I thought I did well.' The little man was pitiably distressed —Luzia cheered him up.

‘Do not fret, Senhor Antonio—as you truly say, you
could not know. But tell me the
numero
of Pedro's machine.'

Twenty voices gave her the number of Montalegre's one hire-car—‘In any event, everyone in Chaves knows it by sight,' said an enormous man, the local butcher. ‘
Sim, sim
, said Luzia, ‘naturally.' She turned to the others. ‘We should follow them back to Chaves, should we not?'

The Montalegre policeman now spoke.

‘My Countess, what shall be done about the strange
carro?
Does it remain?'

‘Of course it remains—since its tyres are flat, it cannot move,' Luzia said, laughing.

‘An outrage was committed upon it,' the policeman said rather anxiously, casting a baleful eye upon young Francisco, who still leaned, now visibly wilting, across his bicycle.

‘This was done by the orders of the
Chefe
of the
Policia
in Lisbon,' Luzia said majestically, ‘
I
transmitted them. But if you are in doubt, telephone to Lisbon yourself.' The policeman subsided; Julia spoke up.

‘Hadn't we better search the car?'

They did—but their hasty examination revealed nothing. ‘You'd better tell the bobby man to seal it up, and leave it where it is,' Torrens said to Luzia. ‘The Colonel can send someone to search it properly.' Luzia passed on these instructions to the policeman, who was clearly inflated by this idea—‘Certainly the priest will have sealing-wax,' he observed hopefully.

‘Oh, how is Dom Gil's rheumatism? No better? Ah,
penal
—please give him my love.' She went on with local enquiries, as about the inn-keeper's wife's new baby, and replied to similar questions concerning the health of the Senhor Duque and the Senhora Condessa. All this drove poor Townsend Waller nearly distracted; he stood in a fever of anxiety.

‘Look, Miss Luzia,' he broke in at last in desperation— ‘Shouldn't we get going? You say they left here at 7.15; well it's nine now, so they have nearly two hours start.'

‘All right—yes.'

It was just after 9.30 when they drove across the splendid Roman bridge of sixteen arches which in the 20th century still carries all traffic from the South into Chaves. They
had arranged on the way that Julia and Torrens should be dropped at the
Policia
to ring up Colonel Marques, while Luzia and Townsend were to rout round the few garages and try to ascertain the number of the car which Hetta's captors had taken—assuming, reasonably, that no one would try to go very far in the Montalegre taxi.

When Torrens reported to the Colonel he gave the number of the car which they had found, and left, at Montalegre.

‘But this is not the one!' the Colonel exclaimed.

‘No. We found that out at the frontier; that was why they didn't hold it.'

‘These
fools
of mine!' Colonel Marques said angrily. ‘They must needs have a puncture just before Coimbra, and of course lost sight of the car! It will be in Coimbra that these others changed to a different one, no doubt.' His voice ceased for a moment—‘Hullo?' Torrens said.

‘Do you know the number of the car they have taken in Chaves?' the Colonel asked then.

‘We're trying to find out. I'll let you know if we get it.'

‘
Très-bien
. In any case I will now ensure that
no
car passes the frontier anywhere for the next twenty-four hours —this is troublesome, but it cannot be helped. They may of course try to take the girl away by sea or by air; I will have the ports and airfields watched.'

There was no sign of Luzia and the American when Julia and Torrens emerged from the police-station, so they walked by moonlight to the hotel where they had all agreed to meet for dinner. Chaves is now a thriving spa; in past centuries, owing to its proximity to the frontier, it was a favourite meeting-place for diplomatic missions between Spain and Portugal, and even the scene of dynastic intermarriages—probably its hot springs, which are alleged to cure everything from rheumatism to syphilis, pay better. Anyhow it has two really rather good hotels with excellent food; Julia and Torrens sat down in the one recommended by Luzia and ordered dinner for four with a certain enthusiasm—it was now just on ten o'clock, and they had eaten nothing since lunch at 1.30. The waiter produced gin and French Vermouth; after a deep preliminary gulp the Major sank back in his chair, relaxed and thankful.

‘Feeling better?' Julia asked.

‘Yes, much. But this is a ghastly show—I've never touched anything so hopeless.'

‘Hugh,
why?
It seems to me that you've been getting no end of help—thanks to Luzia of course.'

‘Oh yes—she's a wonder-child! But where are we now? At a dead end, as far as I can see—and that poor little creature in the hands of those bastards at this moment.'

Julia, woman-like, poured him out another drink.

‘Sup that—I'm going to ring up Gralheira,' she said, and went out.

The Duke answered himself.

‘From where do you speak, Miss Probyn?'

‘From Chaves.
La petite Hongroise
has been abducted— that's why we came here. It was Luzia's idea, and it was a good one, but we just missed them.'

The Duke sounded grave.

‘This is a terrible thing! How could it happen?'

‘Oh, her poor Yank boy-friend left her alone in a church, and they pinched her,' Julia said, deliberately using these slangy expressions in case of line-tapping. ‘It was our fault; he didn't know. I'm sorry we shall be so late; do please apologise for me to Dona Maria Francisca. We're just going to dine now; I suppose we shall get back about one. Don't keep any food.'

‘You abandon the pursuit?'

‘We've lost the trail—there's nothing more we can do tonight. And Luzia ought to get to bed. Oh, can we bring the American with us? I don't like leaving him alone, he's in a terrible state.'

‘Of course.'

‘You
are
kind.'

‘By the way, the British Embassy constantly telephones, asking for you—three times, so far.'

‘Oh, let them wait!—say I'm dead!' Who
could
have told Atherley what was going on, Julia speculated—it could only be he who was ringing up. She said Good night and rang off.

When she returned to the hall where she had left Torrens she found Luzia and Townsend Waller; the latter was drinking gin too.

‘Miss Probyn, could I have a
porto branco?
I
feel
like one!' the girl said.

‘She'd much better have a brandy,' Torrens interposed —Luzia's pearl-pale face was now white with fatigue. ‘Yes—order one, will you?'

While Luzia sipped brandy-and-water, Townsend recounted their fruitless endeavours to trace the car to which Hetta had been transferred from the Montalegre taxi. ‘They were seen at at least three garages, but the people just weren't talking.'

‘Not even
to me!
' Luzia added, with a naive indignation which amused Torrens. ‘They must have given
huge
bribes!'

‘We'd better let the Colonel know about this—he can have the heat turned on them,' the Major said, rather reluctantly—he wanted his dinner. ‘Back to the police-station, I suppose.'

‘Oh nonsense! Let's do it from here; the whole town will be buzzing with it by now,' said Julia, and put the call through for him.

Over their much-needed dinner they discussed what further moves they could make.

‘My own bet is that they'll go back to Lisbon and think again,' Torrens said. ‘It's clear that they have quite an organisation there.'

‘I agree,' said Julia.

‘I don't see how you can talk about it so calmly,' Townsend burst out. ‘What will they do to her in the meantime?' He was in a pitiable state, only playing with the good food in front of him.

‘As to that, for the present you can only pray,' Luzia told him, rather severely. ‘That is why I took you into the Igreja Matriz; but I think you did not pray—you only looked at those lovely carved angels which stand on top of the organ, and the two golden deformities of dwarfs that hold it up!'

Julia and Torrens burst out laughing.

‘Well, that organ
is
extraordinary,' the Bostonian said defensively. ‘It's so beautiful, although it's so queer.'

They did not linger over the meal; they climbed into the Land-Rover just before eleven, and set off on the
two-and-a-half hours of pounding and shaking back to Gralheira. Luzia fell asleep, and toppled off onto the floor—Torrens picked her up and took her in his arms, arranging her long thorough-bred legs across Julia's knees.

‘It's all right, sweetie—-just you go to sleep,' he said when she opened her eyes—‘You've done a splendid job.' Luzia closed her eyes again and relaxed like a baby, her head on his shoulder; Julia slid one arm out of her suède jacket and spread part of it over those long legs. Then she too closed her eyes, in silent endurance of the prolonged battering. But several times during the next two hours she opened them to glance at the Major, holding her pupil so tenderly in his arms, with an indefinable expression.

Julia was surprised and touched, when they reached Gralheira a little after one, to find the Duke still up and waiting for them in his study, with a blazing wood fire and a tray with whisky. Nanny was hovering in the background; she pounced on the sleepy Luzia and bore her off to bed—over her shoulder she threw Julia an indignant ‘Well, Miss Probyn!' Julia apologised to their host—‘I really am so very sorry. It seemed the only thing to do, to go on and try to get hold of her.'

‘Of course you could do nothing else. But now you must all drink something.'

Julia was touched afresh by the degree of the Duke's concern for Hetta, when over their drinks they told him their adventures. ‘This
poor
young girl! What happens to her at this moment?'

‘I daresay they won't dare to do anything very much— they just want to hold her to ransom, and worry us,' she said as convincingly as she could, for Townsend's benefit. At that moment a telephone bell rang sharply.

‘This is doubtless your friend at the Embassy!' the Duke said, selecting one of the eight machines, and lifting the receiver. ‘Yes,' he said in English—and handed it to Julia with a smile.

It was Atherley—and Julia handled him rather roughly. ‘My good friend, do you realise that it's going on for
two?
You really can't ring people up at this time of night! And I gather you've been pestering this house the whole evening. What is it?'

‘Have you got her back?' Julia hardly recognised his voice, it was so strained and toneless.

‘No, we haven't, I'm sorry to say. But how did you know she was missing?'

‘From Hugh's Colonel. After I'd spoken to Hugh this morning I thought I might as well let him know where she'd gone, by way of no harm; so when you told him
what was going on this afternoon, he told me. But what happened? Weren't they stopped? He said he had their car number.'

Guardedly, Julia told him why that car-number had been of no use, and of their fruitless pursuit right up into the North-West.

‘So you have absolutely no means of tracing her?'

‘No—except that we've alerted you-know-who, so they can't leave the country by road. But otherwise, we're completely at a dead end.' Between fatigue and distress Julia's own voice fell away on the last words. She was tired out, she was tormented about Hetta; but she was also irritated by Richard's ringing up at such an hour. She felt—more rightly than she knew—that it was really all his fault for not bringing his girl-friend up to Beira Alta himself. ‘Well, good night,' she said.

‘No, wait! This is too frightful! We
must
do something. I'll come up.'

Julia managed not to utter the words that came into her head—What good do you think
that
will do? Too exhausted to protest, really at the end of her tether, she merely said resignedly—‘Oh very well. Come early, come all, and vote for Eisenhower!' and banged down the receiver.

‘Duke, I fear we may anticipate a visit some time tomorrow from the First Secretary at the British Embassy,' she said, as she returned to the fire.

‘This is your friend who telephones so persistently? Atherley? An agreeable young man,' the Duke said, very courteously, in view of the hour at which the call had been made.