Dennis Wheatley - They Found Atlantis

'You think so? Well you've provided me with ample reasons for its cancellation and taken special care to point out how dull it's going to be for me. I haven't lived with Camilla all this time without learning how to handle her, so you might as well resign yourself to the fact that she'll cut it out.'

'Thanks,' replied McKay stiffly, 'I'll believe that when I hear it from Camilla—not before.'

'All right—wait and see!'

At that moment the Bullo-carro halted before the door of the hotel. Sally jumped out and, to avoid displaying her flaming cheeks and angry eyes, she flung a curt 'Good night' over her shoulder then, while McKay was still paying off the man, dashed straight up to her room.

As he walked thoughtfully upstairs behind her the McKay was a little worried by this apparently senseless quarrel. Certainly he admired Camilla. She was good to look at like any other well executed work of art and, having a simple old-fashioned belief in God, he had always considered really beautiful women to be the high watermark of the Great Master's efforts in the creative field. She was probably quite a nice girl too, he felt, if one happened to care for her type of outlook and conversation but personally she bored him stiff. Whereas he liked Sally. There was no nonsense about her in the ordinary way and she gave a fellow a comfortable companionable sort of feeling which it was nice to have. He had been looking forward to this cruise with her even more than he had realised up to that moment and he knew that he was going to be distinctly disappointed if she blew it up.

By the time he climbed into bed he had assured himself that she couldn't be such a young ass as seriously to resent his chipping and that anyhow she hadn't sufficient influence with Camilla to outweigh the interest of all the others who were so obviously keen to go. In the morning therefore he was somewhat disconcerted to receive, on his breakfast tray, a neatly typed note—which read:

'Camilla, Duchess da Solento-Ragina presents her compliments to Captain N. A. McKay, R.N., and regrets that, owing to unforeseen circumstances, she has been compelled to cancel the party which she had arranged to cruise in search of the lost continent of Atlantis on Doktor Herman Tisch's yacht.'

The Island of the Blessed

Rene P. Slinger was not a handsome man. His bald polished skull and beaky nose were vaguely reminiscent cf a vulture. But he had an easy mariner and a shrewd, witty way of summing up events and people that made him an acceptable companion in the most diverse company. Moreover, his tact was only equalled by his efficiency and he had a genuine flair for getting things done with rapidity and ease.

It was this latter quality in him which had appealed to Camilla when, three months before, her previous man of business had gone down with a duodenal ulcer. Slinger had been an international lawyer practising in quite a small way in Paris. The slump had robbed him of his only two really important clients and the fall in the dollar had driven two thirds of the expatriate Americans, who gave him their casual business, back to their own country. To save himself from bankruptcy he had been angling for some share of the work which Camilla had to give, when her manager was taken ill, and had taken over her arrangements, to begin with, apparently in a purely friendly way. She had been surprised, not knowing the state of his finances, but pleased when he had proposed himself as a permanency. A cable to her lawyers in the States had revealed nothing questionable in his past history and so she had taken him on.

His task of dealing with her accounts and charities, arranging her accommodation as she moved from place to place and organising her parties might appear an easy one in view of the almost limitless funds behind hiin but, as Camilla had a habit of altering her mind every second moment, the job required real ability and the utmost diplomacy. However, Rene P. Slinger was not the man to be content with such a dependent position despite the very handsome salary which she paid him, and would never have considered it, except as a makeshift during temporary difficulties, had not a certain very powerful person in New York urged him to take on the job with a view to arranging a highly secret enterprise which would prove far more remunerative.

Rene was completely unscrupulous and saw in this person's suggestion a reasonably safe way to permanent affluence. He had agreed at once, seized upon Doctor Tisch's misfortune as offering the very thing he needed to further his plan and, with his usual skilful handling of people and situations juggled the Doctor into acquiescence and Camilla into financing the expedition to rediscover Atlantis without appearing to be in any way responsible for her decision himself.

Now, the whole thing had blown up on him at the last moment and it was a very angry Rene P. Slinger who lured the miserable little Doctor out into a secluded portion of the hotel garden immediately after breakfast.

His thin beaky nose was rather red but that was indigestion. He did not display any signs of the intense irritation and annoyance that he felt but inside he was cold, hard, venomous and determined, as he faced the fat bristly-haired German scientist beneath a great bougainvillea bush covered with purple blossoms.

'See here,' he opened up, 'that darned British ex-Naval Captain doesn't believe in your lost Continent. He told his tale to Sally last night and ..he got at the Duchess after, so the whole party has been called off. Maybe the fool's right but whether he is or not I don't give a dime. What matters is that this show's got to go on.'

The Doctor's sandy eyebrows shot up into two arches, his fat red face showed surprise and dismay. 'But I thought it was all sealed,' he protested. '1 brought my ship to Madeira —I promised to close my eyes to what may happen when the Duchess is on board. ... I need the wages for my crew. I shall be sent to prison if I cannot pay.'

'You've said it,' agreed Slinger laconically, suppressing for his own purposes the handsome offer of financial compensation which Camilla had charged him to make the little man when he broke the news.

'But this is terrible!' exclaimed the Doctor. 'And what case have I, for nothing is signed yet.'

'No, nothing's signed yet,' Slinger repeated with an unhelpful stare.

'The Captain is a liar and a fool,' burst out the Doctor suddenly. 'The continent is there—sunk beneath the ocean— also the gold. I will talk with the Duchess and give her proof.'

'Can you?' asked Slinger with apparent scepticism.

'Proof and again proof! I can convince anyone who will listen.'

'Well you'll be in a fine mess if you fail. But you know I'm out to help you and I've been counting on it that you'd be able to put up a show so I've fixed a meeting for eleven-thirty in Camilla's private sitting-room upstairs. Are you prepared to come and say your piece?'

'Ja! I will come and she will be convinced.'

'That's the idea. Don't make it too long though or too mighty scientific. Just think up a few really telling facts.'

'Leave it to me. I haf argued with damn fools before.'

Slinger at last permitted himself the shadow of a smile. He felt that he had manoeuvred the little Doctor into fighting trim and could trust him to do his utmost to persuade Camilla. He nodded encouragement.

'That's the stuff—but remember if you fail to put it over the expedition is definitely off.'

'That must not be. To save my exploration I have already agreed to things which my conscience hates.'

'Sure,' Slinger agreed and they turned to stroll back to the hotel.

In the lounge at that moment four disappointed men were holding an unofficial conference. The McKay and Camilla's 'circus'. He found that all three of them had received similar notes to his own cancelling their invitation for the trip and, although Count Axel was the only one among them who understood the scientific possibilities of the venture and had been looking forward to it on that account, Nicky Costello, and Prince Vladimir were equally dismayed that the expedition appeared to have fallen through.