The Numbered Account Page 26

‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Madam. I’ve got some spare glasses here. There, Miss,’ the maid said, bustling over from the other table.

  ‘Thank you, Watkins.’ Julia took a good gulp of the Cinzano, gratefully, and then turned again to the two Swiss, with an expectant face.

  She saw them glance at one another doubtfully—it was Chambertin who spoke.

  ‘Mademoiselle Probyn, when this—this episode—took place in the Aares-Schlucht this afternoon, I understand—from several witnesses—that you picked up a black leather case full of papers, and carried it away.’

  ‘Certainly I did. Didn’t you see it lying on the seat of the car, when you and Herr von Allmen came and asked me where I was going?’ Julia asked coolly.

  ‘Yes, I did see it,’ Chambertin said, irritated by her tone; ‘and if you had not driven off in such haste I should have spoken of it at once. But the papers in that case, Mademoiselle, are the property of the Banque Républicaine, which I represent, and I wish them to be returned to me.’

  ‘They’re really the property of Miss Armitage’s trustees, aren’t they, which your poor old Monsieur de Kessler let a lot of impostors steal from him?’ Julia replied—eliciting a glance of startled delight from Mrs. Hathaway. ‘What have you done with the impostors, by the way? Have you laid the old one, Borovali, by the heels?—and did you fish the young one out of the Aar? I told you he’d been thrown in.’

  Von Allmen’s face, at this point, would have repaid observation.

  ‘For the moment Herr Borovali is in our hands,’ he replied cautiously. ‘But it would interest me to know, Fräulein Probyn, how it comes that you are so familiar with the name of this individual?’

  Julia took her time over replying to this. If she mentioned June it might lead to more questions, and then trouble at La Cure, and possibly June arrested too.

  ‘Really, I think you’d better ask Monsieur Chambertin about that,’ she said. ‘He will tell you that it was I who supplied him with the photograph that was circulated all over Switzerland, and enabled you to trace Borovali to the Fluss. And when you lost him there, I found him again at the Golden Bear.’

  ‘Dear Julia, did you really? How entertaining,’ Mrs. Hathaway interposed. Julia turned to Chambertin.

  ‘What have you done with the two Boches?’ She realised that the local chief of police was still rather at sea where she was concerned, and that she was likely to get more out of the banker.

  ‘Unfortunately, Mademoiselle, technically we have nothing against them; they claim that they were simply tourists, quite unwillingly involved in this affair.’

  ‘Oh I see,’ Julia said, thinking of the tiny revolver that had dropped out of the tartan bag, and what its inner pocket still contained, in a churn half-way up the Niederhorn. ‘So back to Dortmund on tonight’s sleepers, I suppose.’

  Once again von Allmen’s face would have repaid observation—and got it, from Mrs. Hathaway. But he was a senior police official, and as such kept to his point.

  ‘In any case, Fräulein Probyn, you admit to having obtained possession of these papers. Where are they now?’

  ‘Hanging up in the hall here, with my jacket. I’ll show you in a second, but first, do tell me where Mr. Monro is?’

  ‘In the hospital at Meiringen. He has a concussion.’

  ‘Colin? Good heavens! How on earth did that happen?’

  ‘Fräulein, when a person is thrown into the Aares-Schlucht, bones are liable to be broken,’ the police chief said repressively. Chambertin looked embarrassed; Julia laughed rather hysterically. Why did von Allmen know Borovali’s real name, and not Wright’s? Or had he forgotten? Or had someone thrown Colin into the river too? Before she could work out the answers to these questions the Interlaken bus rolled past, and drew up beyond the cow-stable across the road—a moment later Colin himself walked in from the farther end of the garden. The girl got up, and flew to him.

  ‘Have you seen John?’

  ‘Antrobus, do you mean? Yes—I’ve just come from there. He’s perfectly O.K. in that Clinic; he says the nurses are charmers. The doctor’s operating this evening.’

  ‘Operating? What for?’ Julia was horrified.

  ‘To take out the bullet. It won’t be much, that man Hertz says, but they can’t leave it in. I say, have you got those papers all right?’

  The urgency in his voice caused Julia to look at her cousin more attentively than she had done so far, concentrated as she was on Antrobus; Colin looked battered, almost bruised, by the day’s events, and his anxiety about the job.

  ‘Yes rather—both lots. They weren’t in the black briefcase, though.’

  ‘Then where?’

  ‘In that tartan bag I snatched from the German Frau.’

  ‘But she emptied that out; all that fruit and stuff!’

  ‘Ah yes, but there was an inner pocket, and all the doings were zipped into that. There was nothing in the brief-case but old newspapers. I expect the eats were just camouflage.’

  ‘Where on earth can they have done the switch?’ Colin speculated. ‘I never let them out of my sight for a moment.’

  ‘Even in the loos? That’s where I’d expect. In lots of these Swiss pubs the Herren and Damen Toiletten are side by side.’

  ‘So they were, in Andermatt!’ he exclaimed. ‘And they all went there in a bunch together. The man from Berne went into the Gents, and I was hovering outside, but I didn’t see anything—there was a huge crowd, as there always is when a bus-tour makes a halt.’

  ‘Well, I bet the greedy Frau took the brief-case from Wright in the corridor, did the switch inside, and handed it back to him as she came out. They must have had the old newspapers on them somewhere—no, I expect they were in the black case all the time; the real papers aren’t all that bulky.’

  ‘You’ve actually looked at them?’ the young man enquired anxiously. ‘Is what we want there?’

  ‘Well a great big envelope of those drawing things.’

  ‘Where are they now?’ Colin asked, almost trembling with excitement.

  ‘In two places. What you and John want is where no one would ever think of looking; we must fetch them as soon as we can. What the Swiss police and old Chambertin want—Aglaia’s good money—is hanging up here in the hotel.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Goodness, we haven’t a minute to lose! Come and get a drink from Watkins, while I satisfy these types and push them off.’ She moved across the garden.

  ‘Good God! Are they here?’ Colin said nervously—he now saw who was sitting with Mrs. Hathaway.

  ‘Oh yes—I was tailed all the way from the Schlucht,’ Julia said cheerfully. ‘And I did my triage in a loo, too. What goings-on the Swiss lavatories have seen today!’ She spoke to the maid as she passed. ‘Watkins, I know Mrs. Hathaway has some whisky—could you get some for Mr. Colin?’

  ‘Of course, Miss. I’ll fetch it. It’s not a known brand, but Madam says it’s quite all right.’ She bustled away.

  Von Allmen was looking distinctly restive as Julia returned to Mrs. Hathaway’s table after this colloquy, Colin beside her.

  ‘Monsieur Chambertin, I don’t think you’ve properly met my cousin Colin, have you?’ She turned to von Allmen. ‘And Herr von Allmen, this is really Mr. Monro; the young man in the hospital at Meiringen is a Mr. Wright, though he has a forged passport in the name of Monro.’

  The police chief had risen for the introduction and bowed politely to Colin; but he looked thoroughly disconcerted at Julia’s last remark, and threw an angry glance in Chambertin’s direction. Julia flowed on. ‘And now, shall we go and get those papers you want, Monsieur Chambertin?’

  They went through the Kleine Saal to the lobby, where Julia reached down the black brief-case from under her nylon wind-jacket and handed it to Chambertin.

  ‘You’d better look at the papers, and see that everything is there, hadn’t you?’ she said.

  ‘Most certainly. But where can we do this?’

  The lobby at the Silberhorn leads into a sort of coffee-room
adjoining the bar, with French windows opening onto a broad terrace or balcony which commands the view; since dinner was already going on in the restaurant both these places were empty. But a few people were still in the bar; Chambertin went through onto the terrace, followed by von Allmen, and sat down at one of the small tables, on which he placed the brief-case. ‘Where is the key?’ he asked.

  ‘It isn’t locked—I never saw a key.’

  ‘Incroyable!’ the Swiss exclaimed. He opened the case, drew out the papers, and then from his pocket-book took a sheet of paper covered with spider-fine hand-writing and figures; this he spread out on the coloured table-cloth and then, taking the papers one by one he began to go through them, ticking off items on the sheet of paper as he did so.

  ‘Oh good—you’ve got a list,’ Julia said. ‘Well while you’re checking it, will you excuse me? I must take Mrs. Hathaway to get some dinner; she’s stayed out far too late as it is.’

  ‘Fräulein, I shall require to get your account of what took place in the Aares-Schlucht, and of other matters,’ von Allmen said as she made to leave.

  ‘Yes, of course. But can’t that wait till the morning? I shan’t run away, and my friend is still a convalescent; I must take care of her.’

  ‘Very good. Will half-past nine tomorrow morning be too early?’

  ‘No, perfect. See you then.’ She hastened back to the garden, where Colin was drinking the un-branded whisky—‘Wait here,’ she told him, and led Mrs. Hathaway through the whole length of the hotel to the restaurant, where the heels of the waitresses were clacking on the parquet as they served the rather sparse guests.

  ‘Dear Julia, what are those men doing? Have they gone?’ Mrs. Hathaway asked.

  ‘Not yet—they’re checking,’ Julia said laughing. ‘And the policeman is coming back to interview me tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Well now do sit down and have something to eat, dear child, and Colin too,’ Mrs. Hathaway said comfortably, unfolding her napkin and buttering a roll while she waited for the soup.

  ‘No, I can’t eat yet; Colin and I have got to go out again,’ Julia said, casting a horrified glance at the restaurant clock, which said five minutes to eight. ‘Ask Fräulein Hanna to keep something hot for us. I’ll come up to see you last thing.’

  On her way through the coffee-room she encountered Colin. ‘Where do we go?’ he asked eagerly.

  ‘Half a moment.’ Through the huge windows Julia could see Chambertin and von Allmen talking; neither the list nor the envelope were visible on the table. She went out to them.

  ‘Are the papers in order, Monsieur Chambertin?’

  ‘Grâce à Dieu, Mademoiselle, yes,’ the Swiss said, deep relief in his voice. ‘On the part of the Banque Républicaine I wish to thank you for what you have done to recover them.

  ‘De rien! —it was a pleasure,’ Julia said. ‘Au revoir. Till tomorrow morning, Herr von Allmen.’ She almost ran out to the car, followed by Colin, and shot down the pretty winding road to the foot of the Sessel-Bahn, where she again swung the Porsche into the lay-by.

  ‘Can’t help it if they see the car—we must get up there at once,’ she said, and darted up the zigzag path to the little station.

  Chapter 14

  Beatenberg

  ‘We are about to close, Fräulein,’ said the man at the entrance who sold tickets, making no move to produce any.

  ‘We only want to go as far as the midway halt,’ Julia said pleadingly, making dove’s eyes at him. ‘And you must send some of the chairs up there to take the water on to the hotel, mustn’t you? They’ve been busy today, am Week-end.’ (This word has practically become part of most European languages.)

  ‘The Fräulein seems to know a great deal!’ the man said with a smile, as he gave her the tickets. ‘Is she einheimisch?’ (native-born).

  ‘No, foreign. But so much I know!’ Julia said, smiling too. ‘Schönsten Dank.’ The man drew round one of the twin seats, clamped the metal bars across their stomachs, pulled a lever, and launched them on their airborne career up the mountain-side.

  ‘What on earth is all this?’ Colin asked as they swung through the pine-trees, whose branches were still set with small upright tufts of a brilliant carmine; these are the cones, which later bend over on the branch to droop downwards, turning brown in the process. ‘Are the papers up here? If so, why on earth?’

  ‘Simply to have them somewhere where that infernal von Allmen would never think of looking,’ Julia said. ‘I don’t know if Chambertin knows that they were in the same pigeon-hole as all Aglaia’s stocks and shares—if he doesn’t, he ought to, and I didn’t trust him not to put von Allmen onto the fact. John was furious that he’d told him about the bus-tour.’

  ‘But why up here?’ Colin persisted.

  ‘You’ll see in a moment, if we aren’t too late. Oh goodness, I hope I can find the right one again! Anyhow it’s no good fussing—we are in time or we aren’t, I can or I can’t. Tell me, is it true that there was a hospital nurse as well as a bobby in that lot of tourists? Chambertin said there was, and that she put a tourniquet on John’s leg.’

  ‘Yes—she was a splendid person. She took off Antrobus’s trousers to get at the place; he was furious! But she simply ignored him. It really was a damn peculiar scene,’ Colin said, grinning at the recollection; ‘I wish you’d been there. That nurse kneeling on the planks, completely professional in her rather dim civvy clothes, doing the necessary and ordering me about; the policeman—who came from Wolverhampton, just to add to it—booming on about “culpable homicide in the presence of witnesses”; and the German woman bellowing that her bag had been stolen. Why did you take her bag, by the way?’

  ‘I don’t really know. I just felt angry with her. Anyhow it’s lucky I did, since that’s where everything was. Go on.’

  ‘Oh well, just when I’d gone and cut a bough off a bush to twist the tourniquet with, and another female tourist had contributed her scarf to fasten it, that old Bank Manager comes processing through the tunnel, complete with the Swiss police—who took depositions from everybody on the spot.’

  ‘How? I mean in what language?’

  ‘English. That von Something man speaks it perfectly, and that bus-load of tourists have had the day of their lives—especially the constable from Wolverhampton!’ He paused. ‘Then the ambulance men arrived with a stretcher and lugged Antrobus out, and the rest of them all came back to Interlaken on the bus, I suppose.’

  ‘And you?’ Julia asked.

  ‘I waited to see the ambulance go off, and then got a lift in a car, and somehow persuaded the people in it to tail the ambulance—they were quite amused when I said there’d been an attempt at murder,’ Colin said, giggling.

  ‘Ought you to have said that?’

  ‘Oh don’t be silly! The whole place was buzzing with it. Do you suppose anything or anyone on earth could keep those tourists’ mouths shut? Anyhow they took me to that Clinic place, and I went in and saw Antrobus, and then came on up here.’

  At that point they reached the midway halt. The man in dungarees stared in surprise at seeing passengers arriving so late, but grinned amicably at Julia when she called to him to let them out—he was busy shifting churns, but did as she asked. So many churns had been moved to be filled with water—and were even now being loaded by another man onto the seats, by day occupied by tourists, for their trip up to the summit hotel—that Julia rather lost her bearings; she went from one of the tall white-metal vessels to another, lifting off the lids and peering in, while Colin looked on, an expression of delighted comprehension beginning to dawn in his face.

  ‘Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves,’ he muttered, just as Julia, with an exclamation of satisfaction, bent down and from at least the twelfth churn pulled out the tartan bag.

  ‘Oh, you clever darling! No—they’d never have thought of looking here,’ he said, and dealt her a shattering blow on the back.

  ‘The Fräulein is removing something?’ said the man in dungarees, comi
ng over.

  ‘Only something I put in when I was up here earlier this evening,’ Julia said, making more dove’s eyes at him. ‘Now, can we go down?’

  ‘Ah, Fräulein, it is after the hour—I ought not to allow this.’

  ‘Oh, but do allow it! I’m so tired, and we shall lose our way in the forest in the dusk, if we have to walk,’ Julia beguiled.

  The man lifted a wall-telephone, spoke, and then beckoned them into a seat. ‘For the Fräulein,’ he said, clamping them in—Julia said, ‘Schönsten Dank’ again as they swung out of the shed.

  In the air—safest of places—Julia showed Colin the shiny envelope and its contents; he examined them carefully, and replaced the blue sheets.

  ‘That’s IT!’ he said triumphantly. ‘Do you know, I think I’d better take this on to Berne at once.’

  ‘How?’ Julia asked. ‘There are no more steamers to Spiez tonight I don’t think, even if the funicular is still running. I should leave it till tomorrow.’

  ‘I could drive there in Antrobus’s car.’

  ‘Have you got a map?’

  ‘Not a road-map—no.’

  ‘I think you’d better come and have something to eat, and take these things on in the morning,’ Julia said. ‘If Chambertin has put von Allmen on to suspecting something, there’ll probably be road-blocks all the way to Berne.’

  Colin laughed, but he was overruled—and when they drove up to the hotel the sight of one of the local policemen, lurking near the front door, reinforced Julia’s arguments. ‘Let’s have supper, and then take them up to Mrs. H.—she’ll look after them. Trust her!’ she said.

  Late as it was, Fräulein Hanna had kept them some soup and cold chicken and salad; in the bright lights of the restaurant Colin’s youthful face, always white, showed the marks of fatigue and strain. The restaurant was of course empty, and Fräulein Hanna did her watchful hovering from the servery door at the far end; they could talk freely, and did. Colin spoke of his panic when he found his retreat blocked by the tourists in the gorge, and of the worrying day-long watch on Wright and Borovali. ‘I spotted the German couple fairly soon, because they were practically the only other non-English people in the bus; but those Post-Autos are so huge, and so crowded, it was hard to be sure that nothing passed from one hand to another. Goodness, I’m thankful we got them in the end! Where’s that bag now?’ he asked, with a sudden recurrence of nerves.