The Sword of Fate (30 page)

If there was anything in the case to connect Daphnis with the Fascist Secret Service, her name would be on that list. She would be roused from her sleep and questioned before she had any chance to collect her wits and her room would be searched by the police in the hope of finding incriminating documents before she had any opportunity to remove or destroy them.

I saw now that by having stolen the letters I had won only half the battle. I must go straight to Daphnis, have a showdown with her, and warn her that the police might be arriving with a warrant at any moment.

On the steps of the block Cozelli told me that, although technically I had committed a criminal act by breaking into Mondragora’s flat, I need not worry myself on that account, as it had resulted in throwing a really big spanner into the works of such an exceptionally dangerous gang.

I said perfunctorily that I was glad to know that, and impatiently watched him and his men get into their car. It was now close on two in the morning and too late for any taxicabs to be about in this section of the town, which was some way from the principal night-clubs, so immediately the police car had disappeared I began to run. Ten minutes later I was dashing up the broad marble steps of the Diamopholi mansion. My breath was coming in painful gasps, but I knew that every moment might be of the utmost importance as Cozelli must by now have arrived at Police Headquarters.

Jamming my finger upon the electric bell, I kept it there. The bell pealed shrilly through the house, but at least five minutes went by before a faint line of light appeared under the great frosted-glass double doorway which was protected by a decorative iron grille. The door swung open and I saw young Tweifik, one of the Arab footmen, staring sleepily at me.

As I thrust my way inside and slammed the door to the portly figure of old Mohammed Abu, the Diamopholi’s head manservant, appeared upon the scene. Half-clad, and with his scant hair fluffed up at the back of his bald head, the old boy was far from his usual dignified self, and he asked with ill-concealed annoyance what had happened to cause me to rouse the house at this unusual hour.

I told him that I did not wish to see Monsieur or Madame Diamopholus, but he was to go straight upstairs and bring Mademoiselle Daphnis down to me.

As he waddled off I was immensely tempted to kick his vast stern in order to stir him into greater activity, but I knew that I must restrain myself, and I stood champing in the hall while he slowly heaved his great bulk up the broad shallow stairs.

He was actually away for over a quarter of an hour by my watch, although it seemed very much longer to me. Eventually I grew so frantic with impatience that I had just decided upon the extraordinarily drastic measure in such a household of invading Daphnis’ bedroom myself, when Mohammed Abu reappeared. But with him, instead of Daphnis, was her mother.

“My dear boy!” she exclaimed in Greek, as she hurried down the stairs in front of him. “What is it? Are you ill? Have you been ordered back to the Front? Why do you look so pale and worried?”

“Forgive me,” I said. “I must see Daphnis at once.”

“But, at this hour!” she protested.

“Yes,” I insisted. “It’s most important. I’m sorry that I can’t tell you why; the affair is purely personal.”

“But—but …” She spread, out her hands and I noticed that, even to come downstairs in the middle of the night, she had put on her magnificent rings as well as dressing almost entirely. “I know that you are engaged, yes, but even for engaged couples it is not done for them to have private interviews at such an hour.”

“I’m sorry,” I reiterated, “but I’ve simply got to see Daphnis—and, if you must know … this is a police matter.”

“The police!” she exclaimed, her eyes going round. “It is not
true! How can my little Daphnis have done anything which would cause her to become mixed up in the affairs of the police?”

“For the moment it doesn’t matter what she’s done. The point is that I must see her before they get here.”

“What! The police come to this house!” My future mother-in-law threw her hands up in alarm and distress. “Oh! But this is awful! How I wish that Nicholas was not away!”

It was only then I remembered that old Diamopholus was spending that night in Port Said on some urgent shipping business—which was unfortunate because I felt that he would have been easier to deal with than Daphnis’ mother.

Time was flying. Well over half an hour had gone since I left Mondragora’s flat.

“Listen!” I said in desperation. “I’m terribly sorry about all this, but you know that I love Daphnis. I’m trying to save her from what might turn out to be very serious trouble. Either you must go up and bring her down to me without any more delay or, sorry as I should be to offend your susceptibilities, I’m going upstairs and I’ll rout her out of bed myself.”

“Dear God, dear God! All right, then, wait here.” Puzzled, anxious, but evidently feeling herself no longer capable of thwarting me, the portly lady shrugged her shoulders with an eloquent gesture which suggested that I, like all other Englishmen, was mad. Then gathering her ample skirts in front of her, she went as quickly as she could upstairs.

Another ten minutes dragged by, and either Daphnis was beautifying herself quite unnecessarily for my edification or else her mamma was anxiously cross-questioning her in an effort to find out what she had done to attract the attention of the police.

At last they appeared. Daphnis, dewy-eyed and flushed, in a flowing dressing-gown of heavy silk, looked like something straight out of a dream.

“Julian, whatever is the matter?” she cried, as she ran downstairs. “Something awful must have happened for you to get us all out of bed like this.”

Even at that anxious moment I could not bring myself to be abrupt with her. Going forward I took her hand and kissed it, as I said: “I must see you alone for a few minutes. I’ve already told your mother that, so I’m sure she won’t object. Let’s go into the library.”

Without further reference to Madame I took Daphnis by the arm and led her into the room at the back of the house, where
months before Paolo had shamed me in front of her. Closing the door, I said quickly:

“Daphnis, for your own sake as well as mine I want you to answer my questions truthfully. If I know the full facts it may enable me to save you from being sent to prison.”

The colour drained from her face as she stammered, “What—whatever do you mean, darling?”

“I mean that the police may be here at any moment, and once they come on the scene I’ll no longer be able to advise you about the best line to take with them. If we’re going to talk we’ve got to talk fast and there’ll be no time to spare with half-answers and evasions. Are you an Italian agent?”

“No,” she replied without hesitation.

I pulled the bundle of letters from my pocket and held them up for her to see. “That’s your writing, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Those letters were found tonight in the apartment of a certain Count Emilo de Mondragora. Do you know the Count?”

“Yes.”

“Did you know that he was an Italian agent?”

“Yes, I knew that.”

“Yet you deny that you are one yourself?”

“I do.”

“Daphnis, these letters were hidden with other obviously confidential papers behind a secret panel in an old bureau in the Count’s sitting-room. I take it that you did write them to him and that you remember what’s in them?”

“Yes.”

“I haven’t read them, but if you can assure me that they contain no information which might have been detrimental to the interests of my country you’ll be taking an enormous load off my mind.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Julian, I can’t tell you that. They contain particulars about shipping, things I learnt from my stepfather and passed on to Count Mondragora.”

“Yet you maintain that you are not working in secret for Italy against Britain?”

“I do, but I never said that I had not done so in the past. Those are old letters, written last summer and autumn.”

“When did you stop giving information to the Italians?” I asked, and my voice had gone a little husky.

“I thought I ought to stop when they went into Greece. As I’m half-Greek it seemed to me that, much as I love Italy, I
ought to become neutral. I was still undecided when you came on leave early in November, but our getting engaged settled the matter without my having to think about it any further. How could I possibly even think of working against the country of the man to whom I had plighted my troth?”

A great wave of relief surged through me. Whatever Daphnis might have done in the past, she had acted with complete honesty towards me. I needed no proof of that. Her voice was calm, her clear eyes steady and untroubled.

“Bless you, darling,” I murmured. “From the beginning I had an idea that you might be mixed up with Italian espionage, but I felt certain that you would never continue to do such work once it was settled that we two were to marry. The devil of it is, though, that the Anglo-Egyptian authorities here won’t recognise that dividing line of the day that we became engaged. It was the police who found these letters tonight and they might still bring a charge against you for something that you did last summer.”

“What’s happened to the Count?” she asked quickly.

“I don’t know. He got away before the police raided his apartment.”

“What were you doing there with the police, Julian? Are you—are you really in the Secret Service?”

I shook my head. “No. I’m nothing to do with the police. I only happened to be there by chance.”

“You just said that it was the police who found the letters. If you’re not connected with the police, how did you get hold of them?”

I smiled a little ruefully. “To tell you the truth, darling, I stole them. They were packed into a suit-case with a whole lot of other confidential documents which came out of the bureau, and as they were put into it I recognised your writing. When the police chief wasn’t looking I opened the case and got them out again.”

“Wasn’t that running an awful risk?” she whispered.

“It might have been a bit awkward if I’d been caught,” I agreed. “But I felt that if only I could get hold of the evidence and destroy it, they would never be able to bring a charge against you.”

She smiled up into my eyes and laid a hand on my shoulder. “Darling, how wonderful of you! And you did that, knowing all the time that I might have been working against your country.”

“I felt pretty certain that the letters were old ones. But even if I had seen that they were dated last week, I should have done what I did just the same.”

“I’m glad this has happened,” she said suddenly. “It’s proved us to each other—proved our love. I put you before my country when I agreed to marry you and now you’ve put me before your country by stealing those letters without knowing what they contained.”

I nodded. “Yes, I’m glad it’s happened, too, because now we have no more secrets from each other and nothing can possibly ever come between us again. But we must get things sorted out as far as the police are concerned; otherwise you may find yourself in serious trouble yet.”

“How do you mean?” she asked.

“As I told you: the police have got all Mondragora’s papers. Among them there may be a list of the people who have worked for him. If your name appears on that or is mentioned in any of the other documents the police will certainly come and question you.”

She shrugged. “Let them come. Since you have retrieved my letters what can they do? The only times that I ever saw Count Emilo were when he used to come secretly by night to the bottom of the garden to tell me what he particularly wished me to find out. If I say that I have never met him they cannot possibly prove that I have.”

“Is he the only Italian agent that you ever had any dealings with?”

“Yes.”

Again I sighed with relief. “That’s all right, then. You’d better say that you’ve never even heard of him and stick to that through thick and thin. There’s only one other thing and it’s the reason why I insisted on seeing you tonight. If the police do come across your name among Mondragora’s papers they’ll not only come here to question you but they’ll search your rooms to see if they can find anything which will incriminate you there. Have you anything of that kind—a diary, with notes about what you put in the letters—an address-book, with his name in it—or a list of the things that he asked you to find out? If so it’s vitally important that you should destroy it at once.”

She shook her head. “No, I’ve nothing—nothing at all which could connect me with him as an Italian agent. I’m absolutely certain of that.”

“Thank goodness!” I said, more cheerfully. “Then if there’s nothing at all which can be used as evidence against you except those letters it only remains to destroy them, and you’re safe.”

I still had the letters in my hand and I held them out, but
she gently pushed them away. “No, you take them, darling. Read them if you like, then destroy them.”

“All right,” I agreed, thrusting the packet back into my pocket. “Now everything’s settled we’d better face your mother; but what we’re going to tell her Lord in heaven knows!”

Daphnis stood silent for a moment, then she said: “Mother’s always known about my love for Italy, so she wouldn’t be at all surprised if I confessed now that I was rather indiscreet last summer about the family shipping business to a friend of Paolo’s. I can say that the friend has just been arrested as a spy and that when you got back to your hotel tonight you became involved in a late party, where you were tipped off by someone that this spy had mentioned my name and that the police intended to question me about him. Naturally you felt that you must find out at once what I had been up to and let me know that the police might be coming to see me. Does that sound all right?”

“It’s a marvellous explanation,” I smiled; “and you’re an absolute wonder to have thought it out so quickly.” Upon which I gathered her warm, soft little body to me and pressed my mouth on hers.

We were in the middle of a second long kiss when, in the silence of the night, both of us distinctly heard an electric bell ring.