Dennis Wheatley - Contraband

For a moment she was silent then, with a little sigh, she sat down on the arm of a low chair. 'I am so tired,' she murmured, passing her hand across her eyes. 'Perhaps you are right, Monsieur, but it is ungallant that you should take advantage of my situation.'

Gregory reassessed his chances. Her regal self-assurance of a few moments before had suddenly disappeared. It was as though a spring inside her had given away; she sat now hunched and dejected, a rather pitiful little figure, acute anxiety in her dark eyes as to the outcome of this difficult position in which her evening's adventure had landed her.

His experience of women made him certain that she was not shamming. She was an adventuress, of course, but not a poule, otherwise she would never have broken down like this. He was glad of that since it made the affair so much more interesting. Like a good diplomat he prepared himself to make concessions. The gods gave only in their own good time. They had been kind to place so rare a gift within his compass. Now he must wait upon their pleasure.

He smiled, one of those rare warm smiles which could at times make his grim face so attractive, and laid a hand on her shoulder.

'Don't worry please,' he said softly. 'I hope we are going to see quite a lot of each other in the future, so the last thing I want is to make you think me a bore. I only want to help you. I'm sure it's best for you to stay here the night. You can have my bed and I'll shake down with some cushions and the eiderdown in the bathroom. We'll talk things over in the morning.'

She nodded slowly, not doubting for an instant that he meant exactly what he said.

'I think I might have guessed that I need have no fear of you. How wise you are, too, if you really wish to gain my fren'ship.'

'May our friendship ripen quickly,' he replied, and they smiled into each other's eyes like two expert swordsmen about to enjoy a test of skill with buttoned foils.

'Pyjamas!' Gregory drew a clean pair, of peach coloured silk, from a drawer and threw them on the bed. 'You'll have to use your fur coat as a dressing gown I'm afraid I'll need mine if I'm to sleep hard. They key's in the door, so you can lock it if you wish but you needn't bother. Your virtue is as safe as the crown jewels for, shall we say, the next eight hours or until you leave this suite but after that, gardez vous ma belle Sabine. Je deviendrai le loup dans le bois.'

She arched her splendid eyebrows. 'Is that a challenge?'

'It is. I know nothing of your dealings with your elderly friend but I mean to take you from him even if I have to, swing for it.'

As he spoke Gregory had been gathering up his things together with the cushions and the coverlet from the bed. He had no intention of losing the maximum effect of his withdrawal by prolonging the conversation. In the doorway he turned. 'Good night, little Red Riding hood.'

Sabine inclined her head. 'Dormez bien, my Big Bad Wolf.'

She was now a little uncertain if she was altogether glad to see him leave her so quickly.

Outside he locked the door on to the corridor, made up a couch for himself on the bathroom floor, undressed and, putting out the light, lay down to think.

His unusual resting place did not trouble him at all. Gregory Sallust could sleep anywhere but his brain was busy with the events of the evening.

His tour through Normandy, spying out the land for the organisation which had engaged him in London, had proved completely abortive until this, the very last evening of his visit. Even now he had no certain knowledge that this strange adventure, into which he had been led by following Sabine had any bearing upon the operations which he had been asked to investigate, yet he had a strong feeling that this might be so. The officer from Scotland Yard, who'd been attacked, might have been in Deauville for half a hundred different reasons, but it was Sabine's connection with that strange little man, with whom he had first seen her in the Casino, which intrigued him. That almost dwarf like figure with the powerful head, pale stone cold eyes, and shock of white hair above the broad forehead, was known to Gregory as one who had been engaged for years in great, and always sinister, undertakings. It might well be that he was at the bottom of the whole business. Even if that were not so, Gregory had found Sabine, a woman in a million; one of those rare beings who possessed all the attributes which appealed to his fastidious nature. Gregory Sallust felt that his evening had not been wasted. For a time he amused himself by conjuring up her face again in the darkness; then he turned over and slept peacefully.

Gregory made a practice of never being called and usually slept late in the morning, so he would probably not have woken until nine o'clock, but at half past eight the bathroom door creaked and Sabine put her dark head round the corner.

As his eyes opened he stared at her in bewilderment; then the events of the few hours before flooded back to him and he sat up.

'I am so sorry if I disturb you,' she said, 'but I have been awake a long time and I am hungry; also, I would like a bath.'

'Right oh! Give me ten minutes, will you, and I'll see what we can do about some breakfast. Feeling better this morning?'

'A lot, t'ank you.' She smiled and shut the door.

He shaved his lean face with quick sure strokes, brushed his tumbled hair, slipped on his dressing gown, and then joined her in the bedroom.

Her evening dress and stockings were still lying over a chair and she sat perched on the edge of the bed muffled up in her big fur coat.

'I've turned on the bath,' he told her, 'so in you go, and don't come out before I call you. In the meantime I'll order breakfast. What would you like? Just coffee and rolls, or something more sustaining?'

'May I have some canteloupe, also an omelette fines herbe I think.'

'You little glutton,' he laughed, 'of course you may, but we'll have to eat it off one set of plates, or else they'll tumble to it that I've got a visitor. Run along now and when you hear the waiter come in mind you stop splashing.'

As she left him, carrying away her clothes, he gave the order by telephone, and a quarter of an hour later the floor waiter appeared with the dishes and coffee upon a tray. He was accompanied by an under porter carrying a cabin trunk, which he set down carefully as he said: 'This has just arrived, Monsieur. I was ordered to bring it up to you at once.'

When the men had gone Gregory examined the trunk. It was addressed to him and he found it to be unlocked. On opening it, he saw a note inside; it read

Dear Mr. Sallust,

I trust that you have taken care of my little friend, Sabine. Some people in my position might find grounds for serious; annoyance in her desertion of me, but at my age I can afford to be tolerant towards the escapades of young people. I only hope she was not disappointed in you.

Now that this little frolic is over, however, she will naturally wish to return to my care at the earliest possible moment. To facilitate that end I send under your name a complete outfit of her day clothes. Should she fail to rejoin me by midday I shall consider you lacking in appreciation of the courtesy I have extended to you and proceed to teach you a sharp lesson in good manners.

I do not sign this as Sabine will know from whom it comes.

P.S. My analogies to Sabine, please, that my servants are unable to find her Bassana powder. Also, although she is fond of it, I should be obliged if you will exercise your influence to restrain her from eating any fish for breakfast, since I am always a little doubtful of it in the summer months abroad.

Gregory grinned. He did not need to ask Sabine from whom the letter had come and, knowing something of the sender, he felt that the veiled threat was by no means an empty one; yet he had no intention of truckling to it. Sabine was far too beautiful a prisoner to be released because some risk might be incurred by a continuance of her company. Gregory was already planning in his mind the manner in which they might most pleasantly spend the day together. He slipped the note in his pocket and, knocking on the bathroom door, reported the arrival both of the trunk and breakfast.