Dennis Wheatley - Contraband

Sabine joined him a few moments later clad in her evening dress and looking beautiful but slightly incongruous in the bright morning sunshine which was now streaming through the window.

Breakfast proved a gay and pleasant meal. They had to drink from the single cup and shared the melon and omelette with the happy laughter that springs from quick mutual attraction. All the distrust she had shown of him the previous night had disappeared.

When the meal was over he waved a hand towards the trunk. 'You had better change now, I think, into day clothes, while I have a bath and get dressed myself. But what shall we do afterwards? How would you like to spend the day?'

She became grave at once. 'I must get back and rejoin my friend. Otherwise he will be angry and when he is angry it is not good.'

Gregory raised one eyebrow, the left, until it met the white scar running down from his forehead, which gave him at times such a Mephistophelean appearance. 'You're not out of the wood with the police yet, you know,' he said, 'and if you go off on your own they may pinch you for that affair last night.'

'If that is so, they may do so if I am with you, n’est ce pas?'

He shook his head. 'I don't think you need worry as long as you remain with me because, you know, that Scotland Yard man owes me something. By turning up when I did I probably saved his life. He's bound to take that into account so the chances are that if you're caught with me they'll prove much more reasonable about you than if they catch you on your own. Besides, the wolf knows the forest and you're much more likely to escape altogether if you let him be your guide.'

'That may be so but my friend? He will make trouble if I do not return.'

'Listen.' Gregory leaned forward eagerly and took her hands. 'I'll put it to you another way. If you wish to do so you are perfectly free to walk out of this room now. From the beginning I've never had the least intention of turning you over to the police, I'm sure you know that, but if you go now I may never see you again. All I'm asking is for another hour or two with you. This is the last day of my holiday. I'm returning to England this evening by the five o'clock boat. You said last night you might give me your friendship for sheltering you here and asking nothing of you in return. Now is the time then. Won't you be very sweet and kind, risk a spot of trouble with the old man, and spare me a few hours today? Just long enough to drive somewhere and lunch together in the sunshine. I'll have you back in Deauville and safe at home by four o'clock. I promise.'

'You have been kind and generous.' She hesitated a second. 'But this may be most dangerous for you.'

'Danger has never stopped me doing anything I wanted to yet, nor you my dear. We're two of a kind and thrive on it be honest now aren't we?'

'C'est vrai,' she said softly. 'All right then, I will do as you wish, but the consequences they must be upon your own head.'

'Splendid!' With a quick gesture Gregory pulled her to her feet and kissed her on the cheek. 'Quick now and change while I get my clothes on.' With a happy laugh he swung away from her and two minutes later he was singing lustily in his bath.

When he returned he found her dressed in an airy primrose summer frock and large picture hat, which suited her dark beauty to perfection. She had repacked the cabin trunk with her evening clothes and, but for the tumbled bed, the room now showed no traces of her occupation.

'Now to make our getaway,' he exclaimed and, picking up the telephone, he gave swift orders in French that his car should be driven round from the garage and left outside Van Cleffe et Appel, the jewellers, at the side of the hotel.

'We'll give them ten minutes,' he said, turning back to her, 'then slip down the service staircase, just in case there's a large blue policeman waiting to wish you good morning in the lounge, although they can hardly know you went to earth here last night.'

Only a good-natured chambermaid hid a smile of understanding as she passed them hand in hand on the service stairs.

They slipped through a side door into the restaurant then, under cover of the cider apple trees, out through the courtyard. The car was waiting at the spot to which Gregory had ordered it. His plan had worked without a hitch yet those few minutes of suspense made a bond between them; for both felt a little like naughty children who were slipping away to play some forbidden game in spite of the prohibition of stern elders

Gregory turned the car to the left, along the front, then left again on to the fine main road, and so out of the town between the rows of big Edwardian villas. He had already settled it in his mind that they should lunch at the famous Guillaume Conquerant Restaurant at Dives, but it was still only ten o'clock, so he drove straight through to Cabourg and then turned inland along the road to Caen.

When he discovered that Sabine had never visited the old Norman capital, except to dine at that resort of gourmets, the Champs d'Hiver, he parked the car in the square and they got out.

They spent an hour laughing and talking as they walked round the market and inspected the Cathedral then, after, an early cocktail, they picked up the car again and drove back to Dives, that little village at the mouth of the river, from which William the Conqueror set out so many centuries ago with his Norman knights to invade England.

Neither Gregory nor Sabine were strangers to the celebrated hostelry, which is the principal centre of interest at Dives today, and they were soon seated at one of the small tables in its ancient flower decked courtyard, receiving the ministrations of the mctre d'hotel.

The August day was one of torrid heat so they decided on a cold luncheon: Consomme en gele, Canard Montmorency, and Praises de bois.

Sabine had lost all trace of the anxiety which she had previously shown in playing truant to that powerful and sinister figure whom she termed her friend. She was protesting gaily that she could not possibly manage a third helping of the excellent cold duck, dressed with foie gras and cherries, when Gregory saw her face go suddenly blank.

'What is it?' he inquired anxiously.

She leaned across the table, laying her hand swiftly on his; her smooth forehead creased into a frown. 'That man,' she whispered. 'Quick, he is just going through the gate. Oh, but you must be careful.'

Gregory glanced over his shoulder and was in time to catch one glimpse of a tall broad shouldered well dressed fellow, who dragged one leg slightly as he walked.

'Who is it?’ he asked.

'The Limper; that is the name by which they call him,' she murmured. 'Is it by chance, I wonder, that he is here, or has my friend sent him? Be careful of yourself, please. It would make me miserable now if any misfortune were to happen to you.'

'Is he so dangerous then?'

'Very, I t'ink. At least, many people are afraid of him.'

'Well, I'm not,' Gregory laughed, 'but thanks for the warning, and thank you far more for your concern for me. But tell me this: why do you mix with such people? Have you got to or is it from choice?'

She shrugged. 'It is my life.'

'I wish you'd tell me more of yourself, and more of your, er-friend.' As he spoke he was speculating again as to whether Sabine could possibly be the old man's mistress. The thought that it might be so filled him momentarily with one of those gusts of cold fierce rage which made him capable, at times, of sacrificing his egoism to become a killer; not from jealousy, but because some queer streak in him leapt to the defence of the beautiful, the precious, and the rare, utterly regardless of all manmade laws, conventions, shibboleths. He had been born five hundred years after his time, knew it and, even in his more sober moments, was inclined to glory in the fact.