Microbes of Power (Wallace of the Secret Service Series) (15 page)

‘By Jove! That is great,’ exulted Shannon. ‘How did you find that out?’

‘By my well-known and infallible methods of question and deduction,’ grinned Hill. ‘I also discovered that Bikelas and his wife occupy a flat opposite Bruno’s on the floor below. I rather wondered why they didn’t take mine but dare not be too nosey about them. There’s a ladies drawing room on that floor, and I presume that’s the reason.’

‘Did you see any of them?’

‘Only the fellow you call Kyprianos. He poked his head out of a door, and watched. His Christian name, if he has one, must be Suspicion, I think. His long, pointed nose indicates it.’

‘You don’t think he followed you because he had any grounds on which to base his suspicion?’

‘Not on your life. He’s just naturally curious. He’d probably follow the Pope, if he saw him inspecting a flat near one he occupied.’

‘Beware of him, Ray,’ warned Shannon. ‘I am inclined to believe he constitutes our greatest danger.’

‘He is ticketed, numbered, and ear-marked,’ declared Hill. ‘I had already sensed that he was not nice to know. I do hope he is enjoying himself at the Grand. Now for my surprise.’

‘Yes; get it off your chest, or you’ll burst.’

‘How did you know there was anything else?’

‘I’m not blind. What is it?’

‘I’ve seen
her
– my girl of the stairs. She was walking near the block when I left. I couldn’t stop, because I knew Kyprianos was
in a taxi behind. She was attired in a neat, tailor-made suit that seemed part of her, and a little hat, nevertheless I recognised her, even though last night she wore an ermine coat and no hat.’

‘What’s that?’ suddenly boomed Shannon, raising his voice much louder than he intended. ‘Did you say she wore an ermine coat last night?’

‘Yes,’ nodded the surprised Hill. ‘Why? Do you know her?’

‘Describe her,’ snapped his companion.

‘I did last night.’

‘I wasn’t taking much notice then. Do it again!’ Hill obliged, and, despite the numerous superlatives, gave the other a very good and unmistakable description of Thalia.

‘And so that is the girl with whom you have fallen in love!’ commented Shannon, laughing in a manner Hill thought distinctly queer.

‘Do you know her by any chance?’ he asked.

‘I certainly do,’ came the grave response. ‘She, my dear Tubby, is Thalia Ictinos!’

Hill’s head went back with a jerk, and he blinked rather like a man who had received a blow in the face.

‘You’re joking,’ he gasped

‘I certainly am not. Your description was rather flowery, and perhaps a little exaggerated, but it fits Thalia perfectly. The fact that she was here last night, wore a magnificent ermine coat, and would have been descending the stairs at about the time you met the lady, removes any doubt that may otherwise have lingered in my mind. I was a fool not to have guessed it before, but, as I remarked, I did not pay any particular attention to your previous description of her.’

Hill tugged at his ear.

‘The situation requires a good deal of thought,’ he murmured.

‘It does. The question we have to consider is: how will she react to your arrival in a flat above the one in which she is living?’

‘Goodness knows. She’ll probably think I followed her, found out where she resided, and took a flat in the same building to be near her.’

‘I hope that is all she does think. On the other hand, she may gather that you are in some way connected with me, and that I have sent you there to watch her and her companions. If her game is treachery; then, in that case, you are going to be in danger, and your chances of making any discoveries absolutely nullified. She is bound to know you are there. When you apologised to each other last night, what language did you speak?’

‘Italian.’

‘Well, that’s one blessing. She, therefore, has no reason to suspect you of being English, and your pretence of Austrian nationality might stand. She’s very clever, however, and is quite likely to connect you with the man who knocked at my door and who I told her was a friend. I can’t say I like the position, Ray. More than ever seems to depend now upon whether she is playing straight with me or not. If she is not—’ he stopped, and shrugged his huge shoulders significantly. ‘When are you taking up your residence in the flat?’ he asked.

‘This afternoon,’ returned Hill. ‘Oh, Lord!’ he groaned, ‘I can hardly believe that lovely girl can be the devil you fellows have painted Thalia Ictinos.’

‘Perhaps our painting was a bit lurid,’ remarked Shannon in soothing tones. ‘I am inclined to believe, from my impressions of her now and her apparent honesty to me, that it was. At the same time, you and I cannot afford to lose sight of the fact that she is Stanislas Ictinos’ daughter, and that she was concerned with him in his operations.’

Hill drained his glass; rose to his feet.

‘Go up to your room,’ he bade the other abruptly. ‘I will be along there in a few minutes to dress your wounds.’

He walked away, Shannon watching him go with sympathy shining from his eyes. He had not taken seriously before his
colleague’s assertion that he had fallen in love with the girl he had met on the stairs. Now he felt he could no longer doubt it. The expression on Hill’s face, his demeanour, was that of a man who had been badly hit. He had gone away as much to be alone for a few minutes and attempt to adjust himself to this new situation as to obtain the instruments and dressings necessary to enable him to attend to Shannon. The latter followed him presently, a thoughtful frown on his broad forehead, his jaw appearing perhaps a little more aggressive than usual. Hill did not make his appearance in his companion’s room for nearly half an hour. He removed the stitches, and put fresh bandages on the wounds in silence, not uttering a word until he had finished.

‘There, that will do,’ he grunted. ‘They’re healing beautifully, but don’t attempt to throw people about for a few days or you’ll open them again.’ He packed up his neat case of instruments. ‘Now, Hugh,’ he demanded, ‘what about it?’

‘What about what?’ asked Shannon.

‘You know what I mean,’ he said impatiently. ‘Am I to carry on as per your previous instructions, or have you thought out a fresh scheme?’

‘I did consider taking your place in the flat,’ admitted the other, ‘but I don’t think it would be wise. Thalia may, and will, I hope, consider that your personal interest in her has led you to engage a flat in the same building. She may even regard it as coincidence, but that is rather too much to expect. My advice to you is to cultivate her society as a man does cultivate the society of a girl who attracts him. It might even be wise to confess to her, when you get to know her a little better, that you followed her on account of the interest roused in you at your first meeting, discovered that there were some vacant flats adjacent to hers, and took one to be near her.
An appearance of frankness is more disarming than any amount of subterfuge.’

An expression of distaste crossed Hill’s face.

‘But telling her I had followed her and all the rest of it is subterfuge,’ he protested. ‘Damn it all, man! Can’t you see what being in daily contact with her will mean to me? I am not the type of man that falls in love easily. It sounds darn ridiculous to you, I suppose, that I can possibly be in love with a girl whom I only saw for about a minute. It seems absurd to me, but there it is. I hadn’t a notion before that love could grip with such an intensity of longing. I’d give my soul to marry her, and that’s no jest. The fact that she is proved to be Thalia Ictinos makes no difference to me at all. It has given me a nasty jar, but it hasn’t altered my feelings for her. If I am in constant contact with her, the longing for her will become intensified. What then?’

‘You and I cannot put personal feelings before our job, Tubby,’ replied Shannon quietly. ‘It is part of the price we have to pay for playing the great game that we are compelled to make sacrifices. I know exactly how you feel, at least I think I do. But, if in the interests of the service and the country you are compelled to sacrifice Thalia and your newborn love for her, you will do it. That goes without saying.’

Hill nodded. His face was very pale; in his eyes an expression of pain.

‘You’re right, of course,’ he murmured. ‘It seems that I am to be brought up hard and grimly against one of the realities of our profession. It is a pity in a sense I was not called upon to make a sacrifice before. I am not well prepared.’

‘You sacrificed a brilliant and promising career as a doctor, didn’t you?’

‘Was it a sacrifice? Not a bit of it. The chance came. It was an opportunity I grasped eagerly with both hands. No, old chap; there was no sacrifice in taking up the greater work and dropping the lesser. Now things are different. The possibility of seeing Thalia crushed into ruin with others through my handiwork is not nice to – to contemplate.’

Shannon’s hearty laugh boomed through the room.

‘Hang it all!’ he exclaimed. ‘What a couple of dismal jimmies we are becoming! What about the other side of the picture, Ray? If Thalia is now what she has represented herself to be, what then? You and I will be working with, not against her. You will not be attempting to bring the girl you love to destruction; you will be assisting her to achieve a great triumph. After that – well, if she reciprocates your love, what more natural than that you and she should marry?’ His eyes shone. ‘Jove, old lad! The thought even thrills me. To be loved by a girl like Thalia would be marvellous I think.’

‘Marvellous indeed,’ agreed Hill, ‘but as though Thalia Ictinos would fall in love with me! The idea is ridiculous.’

‘Why on earth is it?’

‘What is there in me to appeal to her? I can’t think of a single thing. I’m nothing to look at – I’m rather inclined to embonpoint, and—’

Shannon interrupted him with another laugh. ‘You told me last night you were not tubby, Tubby,’ he reminded him. ‘What’s the matter? Has love had the effect on you that it is usually supposed to have on most men. Has your red blood turned to water in your veins?’

He slapped the other on the back with such heartiness that he almost sent him headlong to the floor. ‘Go in and win, old man.’

‘And if she proves to be still the Thalia Ictinos of London?’ questioned Hill soberly.

‘We won’t think of that. At least we’ll keep the thought in the background until we can bury it for ever.’ He held out his hand, which Hill gripped firmly. ‘Good luck, Tubby,’ he murmured quietly. ‘May she prove true blue for all our sakes, but particularly for yours.’

‘Thanks, Hugh.’

The ex-doctor left the room, and Shannon descended to lunch.

No finer view of Rome can be obtained than that from the Pincio. It is a favourite rendezvous at sunset and, as Shannon strolled towards the terrace over the Piazza del Popolo, he found himself in the midst of a gay and happy crowd of people of all ages and callings. Bands of seminarists, with varied splashes of colour on their soutanes, according to their nationalities, passed and repassed. Elegant young Romans stood or sat in groups discussing the events of the day. Nurses chatted, whilst their olive-skinned charges played merrily round them, and foster mothers lovingly tended their babies. Here and there lovers met happily, wandering away arm in arm to find sequestered spots where they could tell that age-old story, which can never die, to each other in comparative privacy. A band was playing beneath the trees, an appreciative throng surrounding it and applauding enthusiastically its tuneful melodies. As a promenade and park, the Pincio can surely have few superiors in Europe. There is no place more perfect for repose and rest in hot weather, no place more ideal in which to walk in the cold weather.

Shannon gazed appreciately at the ilexes above and the pomegranates under the wall below, as he sauntered along; stood for some minutes regarding the skilfully tended gardens stretching
away beyond the pomegranates. He came at length to the terrace, and an involuntary gasp of admiration broke from his lips, even though he had often viewed the same scene before. Sunsets in Rome can be very wonderful; this one was particularly gorgeous. Shannon looked, and understood now why someone had said that sunset in Rome was ‘stained with the blood of martyrs.’ The city from that viewpoint was sublime, impressive, serene. St Peter’s towered over all in its immensity, with half a dozen, at least, smaller imitations of it showing in various districts. The dome of the Pantheon, the Courts of Justice, the great Vittorio Emmanuele II monument stood as striking landmarks, and the Englishman noticed how the horizon seemed to cut in two the Archangel Michael on his Castello. He amused himself in idle pleasure by picking out the Colosseum, the Forum, the Palatine and other famous buildings, of which he was able to catch a glimpse. He was thus engaged when a hand lightly touched his arm. He swung round to confront Thalia, looking delicious in a well-cut suit of a crushed-strawberry colour with a close fitting little hat to match. Her lips opened in a smile, her great grey-blue eyes sparkled merrily.

‘Am I to believe,’ she questioned, ‘that this giant of a man, who I hope is going to be my friend, has a soul which appreciates the beauty he sees around him?’

‘You are,’ asserted Shannon. ‘I may not look it, but I am a great admirer of the beautiful.’

Her creamy skin flushed slightly at the obviously implied compliment. She looked frankly pleased. Turning towards the city she gave a deep sigh; spread out her hands in rapturous enjoyment.

‘Is it not wonderful?’ she murmured. ‘Were there ever sunsets to be compared with these of Rome? I have watched the sun sinking to his rest from the Olympieion in Athens, behind the pyramids
in Egypt – oh! In many places – but never, I think, is the sunset more impressive than here in Rome. Does it not even make you feel insignificant, my friend, to look on this age-old city, and reflect on the glory that has dwelt here? I! I always feel myself to be a mortal of the puniest.’

He eyed her thoughtfully as well as with a great sense of appreciation. Here was no lovely shell – a woman without a soul. Her half-open lips, her glowing eyes, the joy in her face spoke eloquently of the deep love that was in her for the beautiful. She continued to speak almost in rapt tones of the wonders of Rome. Shannon discovered that she had an intimate knowledge which he could never hope to acquire. Of Michael Angelo, Bernini and, above all, Raphael, she spoke in the voice of one worshipping at a hallowed shrine, and in the few minutes they spent together on the terrace of the Pincio she did more to eradicate the distrust in his mind than any protestations and avowals she could ever have uttered. No woman with her sensibilities could be really wicked, he decided; there was bound to be good of the most intrinsic worth in a soul with such appreciative and delicate sentience. She could not be cold, or cruel, or hard at heart. Through her veins flowed warm, red, pure blood, and fortunate indeed would be the man who could rouse in her the powerful, ardent devotion which Shannon now instinctively knew lay latent in her. She was a woman who, once her heart had been touched, would bestow a priceless love on the man of her choice. ‘God!’ reflected the big Englishman involuntarily, ‘how she would love!’ His thoughts went immediately to Raymond Hill, and with them went a devout hope that his friend might find with Thalia Ictinos a great, imperishable happiness. She turned impulsively to him, a little spot of colour in each alabaster-like cheek testifying to
the fervour and enthusiasm which had been roused within her.

‘Your pardon, mon ami,’ she begged. ‘I fear I have let my feelings run away with me. Things that are beautiful have always that effect on me. I think, perhaps, you are bored; yes?’

‘Good Lord, no,’ he assured her earnestly. ‘It has been a delight to listen to you. Probably, as a result, I shall feel a greater appreciation of the art that is in Rome in the future. And, of all the artists who built up her imperishable glory, you consider Raphael the greatest?’

‘Who does not?’ she returned. ‘Is not the couplet on his tomb, which was composed by the Cardinal Bembo, truly appropriate and descriptive? You know it?’

‘I have read it,’ he confessed, ‘but cannot call it to mind at the moment.’

‘I can never forget it. Listen! In English it goes:

Is it not beautiful?’