An Ace up my Sleeve

CHAPTER SIX

For some moments, Helga stood thinking. There must be no loose strings, she told herself. Had Archer checked out of the Eden hotel? It would be awkward if the hotel began an inquiry. Then she remembered he had booked an air taxi to take him back to Lausanne.

She knew Toni Hoffman, the secretary of the Flying Club at Agno. Quickly she looked up the telephone number and in minutes, was speaking to Hoffman.

As soon as she introduced herself, he became friendly and attentive.

“A wonderful surprise, Madame Rolfe! Are you needing a plane?”

“No, but my husband will be arriving next week. Mr. Hoffman, I believe Mr. Archer has chartered an air taxi?”

“Mr. Archer? Yes… that’s right He’s due to take off in an hour.”

“Would you please cancel the flight? Mr. Archer has been detained. He will, of course, cover the cost. When he is ready to leave, he will make another reservation.”

“Certainly, Madame Rolfe. I’ll tell the pilot. How is Mr. Rolfe?”

They chatted for a few minutes, then Helga hung up.

Should she call the Eden hotel? She thought for a moment. If there was a suitcase in Archer’s car she would know he had checked out. Slipping on her coat, she left the villa and went to the garage. She found a suitcase lying on the back seat of the Fiat. So he had checked out, she thought as she closed the garage door.

Then she remembered it was possible that Herman might send her a Telex. He had a mania about sending messages by Telex. She had to be sure the Eden didn’t Telex back that she had checked out.

She returned to the villa and called the Eden. As soon as she was put through to the Reception Manager, she asked if there had been a Telex from her husband.

“No, Madame Rolfe. Are you expecting one?”

“It is possible. If one comes would you be kind enough to telephone me? I am at my villa.”

“Certainly, madame… a pleasure.”

Again she stood thinking. Knowing how busy Archer always was it was certain his secretary had set up appointments for him the following day. She must stop her making inquiries. She hesitated, then dialled Archer’s office number.

While she waited for a reply, she calculated how long Archer would have to remain under lock and key. When Larry returned, she would drive to Lugano’s Central Post Office and post the letter to catch the first mail out. The letter wouldn’t reach the Bank until the following morning. The Bank would post the envelope to the villa the same day and it would arrive the following morning. Say three days. Today was Tuesday. To be on the safe side, she would say Archer wouldn’t be back in Lausanne until Sunday evening.

A moment later he was speaking to Betty Brownlow who had worked under her when she had been Archer’s personal assistant and who had taken over from her when she had married Herman.

“Hello Betty, this is Helga.”

“Why, Helga, how nice to hear your voice again. How are you?”

They chatted for a few moments, then Betty said, “Have you seen Jack? He is in Lugano.”

“Yes… that’s why I’m phoning. Something important has come up. My husband has sent a Telex. He has asked Jack to go to Rome to fix a deal. Jack asked me to call you to cancel all his appointments. He won’t be back until Sunday night.”

“He’s gone to Rome? But he can’t have!”

Helga stiffened and her heart missed a beat.

“He has. What do you mean?”

“He hasn’t his passport with him!”

Helga flinched. Fool! Not to have thought of that. Why hadn’t she said Archer had gone to Zurich?

“Are you sure?” She forced her voice to sound casual.

“Yes. His passport is in my drawer. I asked him if he wanted it and he said he didn’t.”

Helga forced her mind to work.

“It’ll be all right. The last time I went to Milan I forgot my passport. There was a bit of a fuss, but they accepted my driving licence. Jack will manage.”

“Do you think so?” A pause, then Betty went on, her voice worried, “He usually stops at the Grand. I could post the passport to him express. He might get it tomorrow. It would save a fuss when he leaves.”

God! Helga thought, couldn’t this woman stop being so damned efficient?

“Not the Grand,” she said. “He phoned… they’re full. He is taking pot luck. Don’t send the passport, Betty. He would be furious if it got lost. I’d forget it… I know he will manage.”

“Well… if you think so. Anyway he will be telephoning me. He always does when he’s away and I can ask him what to do.”

Helga closed her eyes, then opened them. She should have thought of that too.

“I don’t think you will hear from him, Betty. He’s going to be very busy. In fact he told me to tell you not to worry if you don’t hear from him.”

“Not hear from him?” Betty’s voice became alarmed. “But I have a mass of queries I have to ask him about!”

Helga had had enough of this.

“That’s what he said, darling. You’ll manage… I always did. ‘bye now,” and she hung up.

Her hands were moist and she sat for some moments trying to convince herself that she had convinced Betty. She decided there was nothing Betty could do. At least she wouldn’t be alarmed and start making inquiries.

What else had she to do? Then she remembered that the cleaning woman would be arriving the following morning. Still another telephone call. She found the number, called the cleaning agency and told them to stop the woman from coming. She said she would telephone again when she wanted the woman.

She lit a cigarette and looked at her watch. The time was now 15.50. She thought of the long hours ahead of her. She thought of Larry speeding towards Basle. She hoped he wouldn’t have an accident. The road to the Bernadino tunnel was narrow, twisting and dangerous. She told herself firmly she mustn’t worry about him. He was an expert driver and he knew the risks.

Then she thought of Archer locked in the small cellar. At least there was a light and a radiator. He wouldn’t freeze. She wondered what he was thinking. Had he guessed she would try to forge his signature? It had been his own suggestion. Was he in pain? She thought of the brutal kick Larry had given him and she flinched. Had he really a bad heart? So many fat men had bad hearts these days, but it could have been a clever bluff just to stop Larry hitting him again. Archer had always been quick thinking and an expert bluffer. It was probably bluff. She hoped it was.

She looked around the big room rather helplessly, wondering how she could occupy herself for the next twelve hours. There was some intricate tapestry work she had brought with her, but she knew she couldn’t settle to that. She switched on the television set. A long-haired youth, howling into a microphone, swam into view and she hurriedly turned the knob to catch the German station. A fat man was talking about future plans for education and impatiently, she tried the Italian station: only the test chart greeted her and she turned the set off.

She wandered around the room. The light was fading and the sun, setting behind the mountain, made an impressive splash of red in the sky. It had stopped snowing. For something to do, she lowered the shutters and pulled the drapes. She then went into her bedroom and did the same thing there.

She looked around the elegant room, then remembered that Larry would be hungry when he returned. She must get something out of the freezer for him.

She went into the kitchen, opened the freezer and looked at the neatly packaged assortment of food it contained. She finally decided on a fillet of pork. That, with a packet of peas and a packet of chip potatoes should satisfy his hunger. She put the food on the kitchen table to defrost.

Then as she was leaving the kitchen, she paused, her heart suddenly racing.

A heavy pounding sound was coming from the cellars!

For a moment she stood rooted, her heart hammering so violently she had trouble in breathing.

Archer!

God! If he breaks out! she thought.

In panic, she ran to the head of the stairs leading to the cellar. The noise he was making now terrified her. He was kicking steadily against the door. He could break out!

She paused, then steeling herself, clutching hold of the banister rail, she went down, stopping at the foot of the stairs to look along the passage.

She remembered the cellar door opened outwards. From where she stood, she could see the door shaking under the steady, pounding thuds. She sped along the passage, past the quivering door and locked the steel door, leading to the garage. She took out the key. She stood staring at the cellar door and her panic increased as she saw there was a split in one of the panels.

“Jack!” she screamed. 129

The thudding ceased.

“Let me out of here!” Archer’s voice sounded breathless and vicious. “Do you hear? Let me out!”

She forced down her panic.

“Stop it! You’re not getting out!” Her voice sounded to her unnaturally shrill. “If you wake Larry, he’ll come down and I won’t be responsible!”

“Is he in your bed, you bitch?”

“I warn you! If you go on making that noise, he’ll come down!”

Through the cracked panel she could hear his heavy breathing.

“Let him! He daren’t touch me and you know it! You wouldn’t dare let him touch me!”

“I would! I know you’re lying about your heart! If you don’t stop this, he’ll come down!”

“By God! I’ll make you pay for this!”

“Shut up! If you make any more noise, I’ll wake Larry and send him down to you!”

“Damn you to hell!”

Shaking, she walked along the passage and up the stairs. She locked the door leading to the cellars and took the key. She went into the living-room and put the two keys on the overmantel.

She waited, listening, but now she could hear only the muffled roar of the central heating motor. She drew in a deep breath of relief. Her threat… her bluff… had worked! Then she thought of that split panel. If she hadn’t gone down and stopped him, he would have broken out. Well, now, if he did get out of the cellar he would have to batter down the door to the hall. He would never hope to open the steel door leading to the garage. While there was time, should she do something about the door leading to the hall?

She went into the hall and looked at the door. It didn’t seem to her to appear very strong: one powerful kick might easily smashed it open.

There was a heavy iron bound Medici chest standing under the window: yet another of her husband’s collector’s pieces. She dragged this across the door. It would be better than nothing, she told herself. She now felt so shaky, she went into the sitting-room and poured herself a large brandy.

She sat down. She was sipping the brandy when the telephone bell rang. The sound so startled her she slopped some of her drink. Hastily putting down the glass, she crossed to the telephone and picked up the receiver.

It was the Reception Manager of the Eden hotel.

“Madame Rolfe… a telex has just come in for you. Would you like me to send someone up to you with it?”

Now what? she wondered, flinching.

“No… no… please read it to me.”

“It’s from Mr. Rolfe. It says: “Have instructed expert to fix central heating. He promises action this night. No wish to cancel my flight. Telephone me when fixed”.”

Helga turned cold.

“Would you like me to repeat that, madame?”

“No, thank you. I have it. Thank you for calling,” and she hung up.

The grandfather clock that had cost Herman Rolfe more than six thousand dollars began to chime.

Helga glanced at her watch. The time was 21.25. The Grandfather clock was a collector’s piece and wasn’t expected to keep faithful time.

Since Herman’s telex, Helga had sat with a blank mind, waiting for the central heating engineer. She was now beginning to think he wasn’t coming. Inhere had been no sound from Archer. Her threat seemed to have cowed him. She had smoked innumerable cigarettes and she had drunk another brandy. She was feeling slightly light-headed, but in spite of the heat from the radiators, she felt cold.

She had pulled up the shutter covering the smaller of the three windows and had pulled back the drapes. The distant lights of Lugano and the two red warning lights on the TV and radio masts on top of the mountain helped against the growing feeling of claustrophobia.

Then she heard the noisy engine of an approaching car. She went to the window. She saw a Volkswagen, snow on its roof, pull up by the front door and a man get out. He leaned into the car and took from it a heavy tool case which he slung over his shoulder.

She braced herself and went to the front door just as he rang. As she opened the door, an icy blast greeted her, making her shiver. She had had no idea it had turned so cold and her mind flew to Larry.

“Schroder… heating engineers,” the man said in Italian. She could see the puzzled expression in his eyes as he felt the warmth coming from the hall. “You have trouble here, madame?”

“Come in.” She couldn’t bear the cold for a moment longer. The freezing air cut into her like a knife.

He stepped into the hall and she closed the door.

“I’m sorry Mr. Rolfe called you,” she said. “When I arrived, I couldn’t get the heating to work. I was being stupid. It’s working perfectly now. I’m so sorry.”

The Engineer, a middle-aged, heavy-faced Swiss, smiled cheerfully.

“That’s all right, madame. The great thing is it’s working. My boss was worried. He didn’t want you to freeze up. Mr. Rolfe was threatening to sue us.”

Helga forced a smile.

“Mr. Rolfe is always threatening to sue someone… he never does.”

“While I’m here, madame, I’ll check the motor. My boss wants to send a telex back to Mr. Rolfe.”

“No… don’t bother.” It would be far too dangerous to let him down to the cellars. She spoke hurried. “It’s working perfectly. I - I was just being stupid. I forgot to press the right button. I can’t think why I forgot’

The Engineer shifted the sling of his bag.

“It’s no bother… it’s my job.” Then she saw a puzzled look come into his eyes. He was looking at the chest pulled across the door to the cellars. She knew he had been here before and knew the geography of the villa.

“I’m sorry,” she said firmly. “It is not convenient. I am very tired and I was just going to bed when you arrived. Wait a moment.” She went quickly to her bedroom and with shaking hands, she opened her purse and took out a fifty franc note. Then as she was leaving the room, she heard the heavy thudding sounds from the cellars.

Archer, she thought, panic seizing her, must have heard the front door bell ring and with new courage, was attacking the door again.

When she regained the hall, she found the Engineer was examining the chest. The thudding sound from below created such a din that it set Helga’s teeth on edge. Somehow she kept her face expressionless.

Please take this. Thank you for coming. I’m telephoning my husband. There is no need for you to go to the expense of sending him a telex. I’ll explain everything… it is entirely my mistake.”

His eyes opened wide when he saw the fifty franc note.

“Thank you, madame… thank you very much.” His eyes went to the cellar door. The thudding sound was now alarmingly loud.

“A friend of mine… he’s making something,” Helga said huskily and opened the front door.

“Well, madame, if you’re sure…”

“Yes. It’s working perfectly!”

He moved out into the cold.

“Good night, madame, and thank you.”

As she closed the front door, she heard a sudden sound of splintering wood and then a crash as the cellar door slammed open and banged against the wall.

She clenched her fists.

He was out!

Her breath rasping in her throat, she looked at the heavy chest against the door. Would that be enough to stop him forcing the door open? Then as she heard Archer come pounding up the stairs she also heard the engine of the Volkswagen whirr into life and the car drive away.

She leaned against the wall, staring at the door. She could hear Archer’s laboured breathing, then she saw the door handle turn.

“Jack! Get away from that door!” she cried. “This is your last chance! Get away from that door or I’ll call Larry!”

“He’s not here,” Archer panted. “I know! You can’t bluff me! I heard the car and I know where he’s gone… he’s gone to Basle! Open up or I’ll break the door down! Do you hear? Open the door!”

She stared at the door. How could she make it safe? Then she remembered a scaffolding pole the builder had forgotten that was in the garage.

She ran to the front door, opened it and stumbled down the steps to the garage. The cold bit into her, but she ignored it. She opened the garage doors, found the pole and caught hold if it. It was heavy and clumsy to handle but she carried it back up the steps and into the hall.

She paused to stare at the door. The lock was now broken and the door was open an inch, but the chest was holding it. She could hear Archer’s heavy breathing as he paused for his final effort. Would the pole be too long? Her own breathing was laboured. She wedged one end of the pole against the skirting of the opposite wall, then lowered the other end against the door. She gave a little sob of relief as she saw it was a fit. She jammed the pole down, forcing the door shut.

Archer made his effort and she heard his body thud against the door. The pole held the door solid and she heard his gasp of pain as his shoulder crashed against the door which didn’t yield.

She heard him curse. The step at the door wasn’t wide enough to give him much purchase. He wouldn’t be able to use his foot, she thought. He would soon get tired of bruising his shoulder.

“You bitch!” Archer snarled. “Open the door!”

She went into the kitchen to where the tool chest was kept. Herman was a great believer in having tools in all his homes. He never used them himself but expected Hinkle to cope with any small emergency. She found a heavy, wooden mallet and with that, standing on a chair, she hammered the pole more securely into place.

While she was working, Archer called her every obscene name that came to his mind.

Dropping the mallet, now sure the door was safe, she went unsteadily into the sitting-room. Again she looked at her watch. She had still three - possibly four - hours before Larry returned.

Now she had to persuade Herman to cancel his flight. It wouldn’t do to telephone him. He would only argue. If she couldn’t persuade him to cancel his flight he would be arriving at Geneva the following evening and at Agno airport the morning of the next day. This was too dangerous. She had to keep him away from the villa for at least another three days.

She listened, but heard no sound from the cellars, then she went to her desk and sat down. After thinking, she decided to ask the Eden to send a telex. Herman had a secretary at his New York apartment who would accept the message if Herman was out.

She wrote the message out on a sheet of paper. 135

Central heating now working, but villa still like ice box. Will take at least a day to warm up. Cleaners have been unable to work, due to cold. They arrive Thursday morning. Suggest you fly to Geneva Friday. I will meet you at Agno Saturday usual time. Think all will be ready by then. Snowing heavily here, Helga.

She re-read the message, decided Hinkle would be consulted and would veto flying tomorrow, then she rang the Eden and dictated the message to the clerk in charge of the telex. He promised to send the message immediately.

As she replaced the receiver, she suddenly felt utterly drained and exhausted. She realized she hadn’t had any food since lunch time, but the thought of preparing something was too much of an effort. She hesitated about having more brandy and decided against it. Getting to her feet, she walked slowly into the kitchen and put on the coffee percolator. She sat on a kitchen chair, her head in her hands, her eyes closed and remained like that until the coffee was ready. She sipped the strong black coffee which revived her a little, then as she was putting down the empty cup, she heard a sound that brought her alert.

She sprang to her feet and went to the kitchen door and looked across the hall to the cellar door. As she stood listening, her heart beginning to thump, the sound came again: a low moaning sigh. It was such an uncanny sound that it turned her cold.

Shakily, she crossed the hall and stood close to the cellar door, holding her breath, so tense, her muscles began to ache. The sound came again.

Was Archer having an attack? He had been behaving like an infuriated bull and if he did have a bad heart as he said he had he might have brought on an attack. She cringed at the thought. Suppose he died?

Then very faintly through the door panel as if he were crouched against the other side of the door, she heard him murmur, “Helga? Helga?”

“What is it?” Her voice quavering and husky.

“It’s my heart’ He made a low whimpering sound. “There are tablets in my overcoat pocket. Get them… quickly.”

She looked at the black overcoat lying on the hall chair. With shaking hands she searched the pocket and her fingers closed around a glass phial. She took it out and stared at it. It contained about eight oval shaped tablets. There was no label attached to the phial.

The moan came again.

Without thinking, now in a blind panic, she caught hold of the pole to jerk it free, but it was jammed so tight, she couldn’t move it.

“For God’s sake, Helga… I’m dying,” Archer called. “Give me those tablets!”

The harsh note in his voice tinged with angry impatience her pause. Was he bluffing? She looked at the phial. These could be anything: digestive tablets, sleeping pills… anything.

“Helga? Are you there?” His voice was stronger as if he was afraid she might have moved away and wouldn’t hear him.

If he was bluffing and she opened the door, she would be at his mercy, she thought. But suppose he wasn’t? Suppose he really was having a heart attack?

She moved to the door.

“They’re not there. Would they be in the car?”

“They’re there!” There was now a snarl in his voice. “You haven’t looked! A phial with white tablets in it. Look again! Open the door… I can’t breathe! For God’s sake, Helga, don’t let me die!”

The snarl in his voice stiffened her resolve not to open the door. Moving unsteadily, she went into the sitting-room and closed the door. She crossed to the bar and poured brandy into a glass and swallowed it in one shuddering gulp. Then she dropped on to the settee.

If he died… he died! She dare not risk opening the cellar door. He had shown no mercy to her. Why should she show mercy to him? A blackmailer is the dirtiest thing on earth. Let him die! She would be free of him then forever! But she knew she was desperately trying to justify her action. She knew that it was only because she was exerting tremendous control over herself she wasn’t rushing to his aid.

He’s bluffing, she tried to assure herself. He’s unscrupulous, ruthless and an expert bluffer. She held her head in her hands. But was he bluffing?

Suppose, when Larry returned, they found Archer dead? The thought sickened her. What would they do? How would Larry react? She touched her dry lips with her tongue. If he died she would have to call a doctor. Would the news of his death travel fast? Would the Bank hear of it before they posted the letter? In the event of my death! They certainly wouldn’t post the letter to a dead man. They would act on his instructions and get a messenger to hand the envelope to Herman when he arrived at Geneva.

She struck her clenched fists together in an agony of indecision and despair. Getting to her feet, she opened the sitting-room door to listen.

Faintly, she could hear a sound on the lower panel of the cellar door. Irregular sounds, as if feeble fingernails were tapping on the panel.

“Helga… the tablets…” Archer’s voice was now so faint she could scarcely hear it. “The tablets.”

With her hands pressed to her ears, Helga blundered into her bedroom and threw herself face down on the bed.

The sound of the garage doors slamming shut startled her out of a sleep of exhaustion. Dazed, she scrambled off the bed. She was so unsteady she had to sit down abruptly on the bed or she would have fallen. She looked at her watch. The time was 03.10.

Had Larry returned?

She forced herself to her feet and stumbled out of the bedroom and into the hall. She looked fearfully at the cellar door, and then she went to the front door and opened it

By the porch light, she saw it was snowing heavily and the cold struck at her. She saw Larry coming towards her, holding the envelope she had given him.

It was only the steel in her that prevented her from bursting into tears of relief.

He came up the steps, chewing hard and smiling his warm smile.

“I got it, ma’am! Get inside and… you’ll catch cold.”

She stepped back, her knees trembling and she had to clutch hold of the door to prevent herself falling. He gave her a searching stare and then caught hold of her, pushing the front door shut.

“Are you all right, ma’am?”

“I’m so glad you’re back.” Her voice broke and then the tears came and she leaned against him, shaking and sobbing.

“Hey, ma’am! What’s the matter? Did you…” He stopped as he saw the pole jamming the cellar door. “Did you have trouble?”

“Oh, God… yes!”

He lifted her off her feet and carried her into the sitting-room. Gently, he put her on the settee.

“What happened, ma’am? He didn’t get away?”

She fought to control herself and succeeded. As she dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief, she said, “No… but, Larry… I - I think he’s dead.”

Larry took a step back. His look of concern changed to wide-eyed fright.

“Dead?”

She nodded.

“I nearly went out of my mind!” She beat her fists together. “He said he was having a heart attack.” She had to stop speaking to fight back her tears, then after a moment, she went on, “It was awful! He was moaning and calling to me! He wanted some tablets. I was too frightened to open the door to give them to him. Then he started knocking… and now… there’s no sound… nothing.” She shuddered, her face working. “I’m so frightened. I didn’t know if he was bluffing. I couldn’t let him out… could I?”

Larry stared at her. His face had turned chalk white and his eyes turned remote. After a long silence, he said huskily. “But you don’t know he is really dead?”

“No. Please go and see.”

He flinched and retreated further away from her.

“What will you do if he is dead?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I haven’t thought. For God’s sake, Larry, go and see!”

He retreated further away from her.

“I - I don’t like anything to do with dead people. No… I don’t want to do that.”

She understood and didn’t blame him. After all, she told herself was only an immature boy.

“We must know! I’ll go, but come with me, Larry. He may be bluffing and he might attack me. Will you come with me?”

Larry hesitated, then nodded.

“Sure, ma’am. I’ll come with you.”

Shaking, Helga went into the hall.

“I can’t move that.” She indicated the pole. “Will you try?”

Larry took hold of the pole in his huge hands, twisted and gave it a jerk. It came free. He laid it down along the wall, then catching hold of the chest, he dragged it away from the door which swung open.

Helga saw the lights were on in the corridor below. She moved to the head of the stairs and stood listening. She could only hear the steady roar of the motor, driving the central heating. Gathering her courage, she began to descend the stairs. Halfway down, she paused and looked back. Larry was standing at the top of the stairs, his face shiny with sweat. They looked at each other.

“Come with me,” she whispered.

He nodded and came down the stairs, then stopped. She went on and paused when she was in the corridor.

“Jack?” Her voice was so husky it was almost soundless. “Jack! Are you there?”

The silence that greeted her gripped her with a paralysing terror. She couldn’t bring herself to move forward. She remained motionless, staring down the long corridor at the shattered cellar door at the far end of the corridor and opposite, the games room: the door stood ajar. The other doors leading to the boiler room and to two more cellars were closed.

He must be dead, she thought hopelessly. He must be lying in the cellar. He must have crawled there. She fought off the terror that gripped her and the steel in her that never failed her stiffened her courage.

“Come with me!” she said, her voice hardening. “Larry! You’re in this as much as I am!”

Hesitating, Larry came down three more of the stairs and then stopped.

She went along the corridor, paused, then forced herself to look into the cellar. Except for the splinters of wood on the concrete floor, the cellar was empty. She turned and looked at the door, standing ajar, leading to the games room. She could see the room was in darkness. She saw Larry hadn’t moved. He was standing halfway down the stairs, sweat trickling down his face. She felt a sudden contempt for him. His fear increased her courage. She walked to the games room, threw the door open, groped for the light switch and turned it on.

With her heart hammering, she looked around the big room. There was no sign of Archer.

He couldn’t have escaped! 141

To convince herself she looked at the steel door at the far end of the corridor, leading to the garage. She could see from where she stood that the bolt of the lock was home.

There was another cellar and the boiler room in which Archer could be hiding or lying dead. She went to the boiler room and threw the door open. The door was near the bottom of the stairs, and as she turned on the light, Larry retreated up two stairs. She looked around. Again there was no sign of Archer. She was shaking again, and she turned to look at Larry.

Pointing to the second cellar door, she mouthed without speaking, “He’s in there… the other is locked.”

Looking scared, Larry stared blankly at her. Her silent mouthing conveyed nothing to him. She motioned him to come down into the corridor and reluctantly he did so. The unlocked cellar door opened outwards. She put a shaking hand on the door handle, turned it and flung the door open.

Archer came out like a charging bull. Helga was standing back, but Larry was directly in his path. Archer’s fist, thrust forward like a battering ram, thudded into Larry’s chest, with all Archer’s heavy weight behind it, sending him reeling. Larry tried to regain his balance as Archer rushed by him, but he went sprawling.

“Larry!” Helga screamed.

Archer stumbled on the stairs and fell on his knees. He was so heavy and cumbersome he took a long moment to get to his feet. By then Larry was up and he grabbed hold of Archer’s left ankle. Archer kicked back wildly with his right foot which whistled by Larry’s face. Larry hauled him back down the stairs.

Cursing, Archer broke free and rolled over. Lying on his back, panting, he glared helplessly up at Larry.

As Larry got set to kick him, Helga screamed, “Don’t touch him!”

Scowling, Larry stepped back and wiped his sweating face with the back of his hand.

Lying still, Archer looked up at Helga, his face a blotchy white.

“So you’ve got your pimp back,” he said huskily. “All right… you win. Just leave me alone.”

She felt a moment of pity. The bruise on the side of face had extended and was now blue and yellow. His lips swollen and dried blood caked on his chin. He looked old, frightened and defeated.

I warned you, Jack,” she said shakily. “I’m sorry.”

“I imagine.” His voice was bitter. Slowly he crawled to his feet and leaned against the wall. “Sorry? You wouldn’t know the meaning of the word.”

She pointed to the panics room.

“You’ll be comfortable in there. I’ll get you a drink.”

He lurched by Larry who was tense, his huge hands on his hips, his jaw moving as he chewed. Then Archer passed Helga and went into the games room.

Helga went unsteadily up the stairs to the sitting-room. She mixed a double whisky and soda, added ice and carried the drink down to the games room.

Archer was sitting in one of the lounging chairs, his head in his hands. She put the drink on the covered billiard table.

“Do you want something to eat?”

“Oh, go to hell!” He said wearily and without viciousness. “Leave me alone.”

She went out and closed the door. Motioning Larry to follow her, she climbed the stairs.

“Put the pole back, Larry,” she said and went into the sitting-room. With shaking hands she opened the envelope Larry had brought back and took out the three sheets of paper, stripped off two and looked at the letter. The signature was a replica of Archer’s scrawl. She found one of Archer’s letters and compared the two signatures, then she drew in a shaky breath of relief.

She was sure the Bank would accept the forgery.

“Is it okay, ma’am?” Larry asked as he came into the room.

“Yes, I think so. Did he ask questions?”

Larry shook his head.

“He wanted five thousand but I beat him down to three five. I spent money on gas, but I have some change for you.”

“Don’t bother me with that!” she said impatiently. She went to her desk and typed an envelope. “I’m going down to Lugano to mail this. If you’re hungry there’s food on the table in the kitchen. It should be defrosted by now.”

“I’ll mail it, ma’am. The roads are bad and it’s snowing hard.”

“No! I won’t stay here alone. I’m going.”

“Be careful, ma’am. The roads are real mean.”

She went into the hall and put on her coat. He followed her and stood lolling against the wall, chewing, and watching her.

“Don’t go to sleep until I get back,” she said. “Eat something.” She looked at the pole jammed against the cellar door. “He can’t get out, can he?”

Larry grinned.

“With me around, ma’am, he won’t try.”

She put on her hat and looked at herself in the hall mirror. God! she thought, how old I look!

She put the letter in her bag. She found a pair of fur-lined boots in the recess and put them on.

“I won’t be long.”

“Okay, ma’am… if you’re sure you want to go.”

She opened the front door and shivered as the cold bit at her. She cautiously made her way down the snow-covered steps. On the fourth step she nearly slipped but recovered.

“Watch it, ma’am!” Larry said from the opened doorway. She kept on and reached the garage. Once inside the warm car she relaxed a little. She knew the road down to Lugano well. She knew the three danger points. She set the in motion. The snow tyres bit into the snow and she drove cautiously.

She met no other car nor any other person. Three times the car went into a skid, but she was an experienced driver and although she hated skids, she controlled the car.

Eventually, after some fifteen minutes of difficult driving, she reached the Central Post Office. She parked the car, got out and dropped the letter into the box.

With the snow falling heavily, making her coat into a white mantle, she stood for a moment, relaxing.

The first step in the operation was completed. Now it remained to be seen if the Bank would send the envelope. Shaking the snow off her coat, she went back to the car and got in. She lit a cigarette, staring through the windshield while she thought. The time by the lighted clock on the dashboard was 03.55. She realized how deadly tired she was. She thought with dread of the thirty odd hours ahead of her before she could expect a reply from the bank. If this snow continued, there would be no question of Herman surprising her. He took too good care of himself to fly when the weather was bad.

She shifted the lever to Drive and drove back towards Castagnola. Driving around the steep climbing bend into the village, the Mercedes got out of control. The back wheels skidded and the car turned broadside on across the road and then began to slide sideways down the hill. She spun the driving wheel, touched the gas pedal and got the bonnet of the car pointing up hill again, but the hill was too steep for a take-off and the wheels merely spun, moving the rear of the car until the wheels thudded against the kerb. She sat motionless for some moments wondering what to do. Finally she decided she must make a new attack on the hill. She went into reverse and backed slowly down the hill until she reached the entrance to Cassarate which was on the level. She paused, fighting her tiredness, then drawing on her reserve stamina, she again started up the hill. This time she kept her foot very lightly on the gas pedal, but just enough to keep the engine going. In this way, with the snow biting, the car crawled up the hill.

She realized there was no question of her getting the car up the private road to the villa. When the entrance was in sight, she pulled the car to the side of the road and got out.

Leaving the parking lights on, she slipped and slid up the drive, until she finally reached the front door of the villa. She was cold, stunned and exhausted as she pressed the door bell.

After a brief delay, Larry opened the door.

“You made it, ma’am.”

Wearily, she took off her coat and thrust it into his hands.

“Shake it. Don’t bring all that snow into the house.”

She sank on to the chest, closing her eyes. The warmth that seeped through her was comforting.

“It’s mean out there, isn’t it?” he said as he shut the door.

“Yes… I had to leave the car in the road.”

She took off her hat and let it drop on the floor.

“Food’s ready, ma’am. Come on and eat.”

She shook her head.

“No. I couldn’t. I’m going to bed. I must sleep.” Her voice broke. “I’m so tired.” She pressed her palms to her eyes. “Your room is at the end of the corridor, Larry.” She could smell the fillet of pork and the onions cooking. The smell made her cringe.

She got wearily to her feet and walked towards her bedroom, then she paused and looked back.

“Is he all right?” She pressed the back of her hand against her forehead. “Shouldn’t you give him something to eat?”

“You go to bed, ma’am. There’s nothing for you to worry about,” Larry said gently. “I’ll take care of him.”

She was too tired to care.

“Good night, Larry… and thank you.”

His warm smile gave her renewed confidence.

“You sleep, ma’am… you’ll be fine tomorrow.”

She nodded.

“It’s going to be all right, Larry.”

“Sure.”

She went along to her bedroom and closed the door. Slowly, she undressed. Her movements were listless. She put on her pyjamas, then too tired even to brush her teeth, she got into bed. She reached up and turned off the light.

Then for the first time in many years, she began to pray, but she was asleep before the prayer was finished.