Dennis Wheatley - They Found Atlantis

The Prince hesitated only a second. He did not consider that he had anything to fear from Nicky. It was inconceivable to him that his so beautiful Duchess could seriously contemplate marrying the crooner; whereas he regarded the clever, polished. Count Axel, whose age he exaggerated, as a really dangerous competitor. If the Count was willing to tie himself to the card table for the evening why should he not do likewise and enjoy his favourite recreation. Immediately he learned that Sally and the McKay were willing to make up a four, he agreed at once.

Slinger, as usual when his presence was not required, tactfully disappeared upon his own concerns so Nicky, quite unaware that Count Axel had arranged matters for his especial benefit, shepherded Camilla out on to the starlit forward deck.

'Sing something for me Nicky,' she said as soon as they were settled.

'No,' he shook his smooth fair head, 'let's talk. I've got aheap of things I want to say to you.'

'Presently. Sing something for me first. They'll be cooped up in there over their bridge for hours—so we've got lots of time.' Her voice held a gently intimate note which flattered him. One of Camilla's many great attractions as a woman was her ability to make anyone whom she wished to please at the moment think that she really wanted to be with them all the time.

'All right,' Nicky agreed and sitting on the deck at her feet, his hands clasped round his knees, he threw back his head and began to sing.

Some people like listening to crooners. Obviously many people must, for the records of the theme songs from Nicky's pictures sold in their millions all over the world. Camilla certainly did, and lay back with half closed eyes savouring to the full the primitive emotionalism of 'Dear Baby God Gave Me I'm holding your hands', and 'In all the world Mother—there's no one like you'. Not so the McKay, who fifty feet away in the deck lounge, trumped his partner's trick, apologised and muttered fiercely: 'God! how I'd like to tan that youngster's hide.' Prince Vladimir only smiled darkly, recognising that it is impossible to sing and make love at the same time. He felt that he had less reason than ever to fear Nicky as a rival and that he had been wise to settle to his beloved cards while Camilla amused herself with her pet clown.

Ordinarily Nicky was extremely averse to giving free performances either in private or public. For one thing he very wisely took the greatest care of his voice, and for another he quite seriously thought of himself as the successor to Caruso who had developed his talents in a slightly different field. Having once got going however he did not stint his numbers. The soft night air, the illusion of being alone with Camilla on the face of the great waters, the ceaseless hissing of the wavelets as they rushed past the ship's bows, the faint starlight, all worked upon his artistic temperament and as time slipped by he sobbed out song after song with ever increasing pain and emotion. Suddenly he ceased and buried his face in his hands.

'What is it Nicky?' Camilla enquired gently.

'I love you,' he muttered, 'I'm miserable because I love you so.'

'Are you?' Camilla smiled. 'But I like you Nicky— awfully.'

'Then why don't you marry me?' he shot out suddenly.

'But my dear—I said I'd think it over.'

'Words! words!' he exclaimed tragically, now visualising himself in the role of betrayed lover. 'Camilla, you're driving me to despair. I love you! I want you! We were made for each other. What is it that has come between us? You were so sweet to me only two nights ago—and now—' he paused dramatically as though choking on a sob.

'Nicky dear, I haven't changed I-'

'Don't lie to me! Not that! I couldn't bear it!' he interrupted, passing a hand across his eyes as all the old cliches from a hundred parts he had played in the past came tumbling from his tongue. 'Tell me the truth. I'm brave and I can bear that although life will never be the same again. I'm not a Prince. I'm not even a Count. I'm only a man who has worked his way up from nothing—I know that—but I love you Camilla. I love you more than words can say.'

'Dear Nicky,' cooed Camilla happily, allowing her hand to rest lightly on his bowed head. She was very gentle about it though knowing that he hated to have his fair, slightly wavy hair disturbed or ruffled.

He turned and caught her hand, bringing it quickly to his lips as he instinctively changed his role to that of the Other Man who has just come into the life of the woman with the drunken husband. 'Camilla—dearest—you must leave all this! Let's go away together! I'll take care of you—I swear it! We'll start life anew. Just you and I in some place where no one knows us. It will be heaven to have you with me always. Poor little girl you've had a rotten deal—but I'll make up to you for everything.'

Nicky had got himself so wrought up by this time that he made the unfortunate mistake of unconsciously dropping into the lines of his last big part which Camilla recognised. Angrily she jerked her hand away, and cried: 'I haven't had a rotten deal and I don't want to be taken anywhere.'

'Ah!' Nicky stared at her with a pained look as she hurried on: 'In another moment you would have broken

into your theme song and I don't care about being made

fun of that way.'

Just as though a bucket of ice cold water had been slung over him Nicky came out of his highly emotional state. The hard practical side of his nature reasserted itself instantly and he saw that he had slipped up badly. Without the flicker of an eyelid he passed from unconscious to conscious acting and gave a sad little laugh.

'Camilla how can you be so unfair to me just because I happened to use the same words to you that I had in that fool part. In this case 1 meant them. You have had a rotten deal and I would like to take you away from all this.'

'I don't quite see what you mean,' Camilla confessed intrigued despite herself.

'Why all this money you inherited. Money's not everything you know.'

'Oh that.'

'Yes. It prevents you knowing who your true friends are. Surely you don't think this Roumanian Prince and Count Axel would be running after you if you hadn't got a cent— do you? And I'm sorry for you Camilla. Sorry to see you deceived by all this flattery and hypocrisy just because of your wealth. That's why I'd like to take you away, because I know that we could be happy together even if we were poor.'

'I don't think I'd care much about being poor,' said Camilla doubtfully.

'Well not poor exactly. My expenses are mighty heavy. Advertising costs a lot and my business manager takes a pretty useful cut but I'd have enough to keep you with all you'd need outside a yacht. That's what I'd like to do, and I'd be a sight happier if you hadn't got this great pile of cash.'

'Would you really, Nicky?'

'Sure 1 would. Besides I hate to see you wasting your life among this crowd of spongers—doing nothing. You're worth better things than that. I'd like to see you doing something, making a big name for yourself you know.'

Camilla's blue eyes brightened. 'D'you think I could Nicky? How would I do that?'

'Why in the film game of course. There's not a girl in Hollywood that's got half your looks.'

That's the one thing I've always longed for—to be a film

star,' she said dreamily. 'But it's no good—you see I can't act.'

He shrugged disdainfully. 'You don't have to. Film stars are not born but made these days. It's just a matter of alittle preparation and a first class director does the rest.'

'Is that true—really? Do you think then that someone would take me on and make me a star?'