Dennis Wheatley - They Found Atlantis

'Of which you are a master Count—I suspect.'

'And you Madame an apt pupil—as you have proved.'

'But travel is not the only thing in life.'

'By no means. I am a poor man and so have little choice but to wander as economically as I can from one pleasant spot to another. If I were rich I should spend at least half the year in London, Paris, and New York. In each—if I were very rich of course—I should keep a fine house in the old tradition. It would be no more expensive than occupying luxury suites at the big hotels and infinitely more comfortable. I should stock my cellars with great wines and appoint three Cordon Bleus to be my chefs; for the lure of a superlatively fine table rarely fails to attract the great brains of the world. Artists, scientists, men of letters, diplomats, statesmen, great beauties, prima donnas and all the men and women who are moulding the world that we shall know tomorrow would be my guests in carefully selected parties where each would be invited to meet some other that they wished to know.

'As I am blessed with a tolerant disposition I should doubtless make many real friends among them and learn much of their hopes and fears, also perhaps something of those fascinating hidden motives, of which the great public never know, but which actuate the policies of men of power and often change the whole lives of many million people. Especially too I would seek for struggling talent among young people and by my introductions bring it to the light. That is a selfish thought perhaps but few pleasures can be so harmless or bring such satisfaction as being the means of helping people of ability to recognition. Then, when I tired of all their chatter I should be more selfish still and, leaving them for a period, sail away to refresh myself by visiting the marvels of India, Egypt, China or Peru.'

Camilla knew that he was really speaking of the life he would make for her if she would marry him. It would be wonderful, she thought, to be a real Grande Dame, and a personality among the people who mattered in the world instead of just a rich girl throwing costly parties for hordes of nonentities whom she hardly knew. She saw herself receiving at the head of a great staircase in some old ducal mansion, accepting the homage of the writers and painters who, by her patronage, she had brought from poverty to fame, or listening in her salon to inventors and explorers as they told her of their latest discoveries before disclosing their secrets to the common world.

Axel was not boasting about his genius for friendship, she felt sure of that. His personality and breeding would secure him a place on equal terms with people of any rank, his brain and learning enable him to converse with the most intelligent, and his sure taste gave him a ready sympathy towards all creators of real beauty in any form. Given the money to pay for the right setting Camilla was certain that he was capable of carrying his wife to almost any height of influence and importance. It would be fun to travel too with a man who possessed such a wide knowledge of the world yet never laboured his learning and, in addition, was such an even tempered and amusing companion. But there was one thing he had not mentioned so Camilla asked with a sly smile:

'Is that everything you want in life Count?'

'No Camilla,' he answered softly. 'As a connoisseur of all things beautiful I want you for my wife.'

Truly Count Axel was an artist in other things besides travel. The very syllables of her christian name coming so firmly but unexpectedly from him, was more effective than a score of platitudes.

There was a slight jolt as the bathysphere landed on its runners and next moment pandemonium reigned as the sailors on the platform attacked the bolts of the steel door with their heavy hammers.

Five minutes later Camilla was on deck again surrounded by her anxious friends.

'It was marvellous,' she exclaimed breathlessly. 'Absolutely wonderful—you've no idea.'

'Tell us,' they cried, 'did you see any fish!'

She threw back her golden head and gave way to peals of laughter, then still gurgling she turned to Axel. 'Listen to them 1 Did we see any fish 1 Scores my dear, hundreds, and every colour of the rainbow.'

'Do tell us about it,' pleaded Sally.

'I can't darling. It's utterly impossible. It's another world, fairyland, heaven, I don't know. And the light—the brilliance of it—that amazing blue.'

'Light!—down there?' expostulated Nicky.

'Yes, yes, I can't explain it but it almost makes the sun-78

shine look pale by comparison, and it's not the tiniest bit frightening. I know one thing. Every time the bathysphere goes down again I'm going too. But I'm ravenous. It's getting on for three—have you all had lunch?'

They confessed that they had not, but had been hanging about on deck for . the last hour and a half wondering if they would ever see her alive again.

Even the taciturn little Doctor was cheerful over the belated meal that followed. It was his second descent in the sphere and, as on the first occasion off the Scillies, his apparatus had worked splendidly. Only a pint and a half of water had been found in the bathysphere's concave bottom after the dive and he saw no reason that he should not descend in it to much greater depths with equal safety.

After lunch Nicky cornered Sally. 'Look here,' he said, 'I want to talk to you.'

'All right,' Sally smiled. 'It's a free country—ship I mean. Come on deck and don't look so serious about it.*

'But I am serious,' he announced as soon as they had settled down. 'It's about Camilla.'

'How disappointing, I thought you were going to make love to me.'

'You didn't!'

'Of course I didn't. You are a fool Nicky. But quite apart from any question of making love you'd be far wiser at least to pretend a friendly interest in people for their own sakes when you want something out of them.'

'I didn't say that I wanted anything out of you.'

'But you do.

'Well yes—in a way—but I've been thinking a lot lately and what I want to talk to you about will benefit you too.'

Sally glanced suspiciously at his fine regular features and rather weak mouth. In a way she was sorry for Nicky, most women were when they did not fall desperately for his rather feminine good looks. She knew that his vanity and egoism were not entirely his own fault. Success had come to him when he was still too young to keep any sense of proportion. The flattery of the insincere but anxious to please artists who wanted minor parts in his pictures, and the adulation expressed in his feminine fan mail had gone to his head. Like others among the more sensible of her sex she remained quite untouched by what he believed to be his irresistible fascination for women, but had an instinct to mother him, and make allowances for his shortcomings which men, who mostly loathed him on sight, were quite unprepared to do.

'All right,' she said, 'fire away.'

'Well you don't have much of a life—do you?'

'How exactly do you mean?'

'You're entirely dependent on Camilla—and at her beck and call all the time.'

'Yes—I suppose I am. Anyhow for the moment.'

'Why for the moment only?'

'Well I might marry you know.'

'Yes,' he said slowly, 'you might but not before Camilla.'

'Thank you Nicky.'

'Oh no offence, but the odds are all on her—aren't they?'

'Yes, I suppose they are.'

'I'd hate to see her marry this rotten dago Prince,' he exclaimed with sudden venom.

'Now Nicky don't be naughty. Vladimir is just a nice large healthy animal. He's a gay and affectionate person too but if you will persist in sticking pins in him and making fun of his quaint English you can't expect him to be nice to you.'

'I don't give a dime if he's nice or not. Do you think Camilla is likely to fall for him?'