Dennis Wheatley - To The Devil A Daughter

For a long moment she lay passive in his embrace, then he withdrew his lips, smiled down at her and said, `You are not doing your best, darling. That's not a patch on the kisses you gave me the other night.'

Instantly she pulled away from him. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she cried, `How horrid of you to remind me of that!'

`Why?' he asked, momentarily at a loss. `You are the same girl, and there is nothing to be ashamed of in what you did.'

`I was not myself then, and you know it.'

He gave a little shrug. `If you take my advice, then, should a chap ever make love to you seriously and you want him for a husband, you will let him kiss you only when you are, as you put it, not yourself.'

Christina's cheeks were scarlet as she murmured unhappily, `But it isn't normal. It's not decent. No girl could do that sort of thing and not be ashamed of it afterwards at least not until she was married.'

Smiling slightly, John shook his head. `My dear, I'm sure you really believe that, but you are talking the most utter rot. I give you my word of honour that grown up people who are going places together nearly always kiss that way even when they haven't the faintest intention of getting married. There is no harm in it, and it's part of the fun of life. You might just as well say that, because as children we have no urge to smoke or drink, it is wicked of us to take to it when we get older. Learning to kiss properly, and enjoying it, is just one of the normal processes of becoming a man or a woman. You did enjoy being kissed by me the other night, didn't you?'

`Yes,' Christina whispered. `I'... I ... of course I did.'

`Then stop being a baby, and let me kiss you again.' As he spoke, he drew her gently into his arms and this time kissed her parted lips.

From the distance came the faint clink of metal against small stones as a peasant hoed one of his terrace plots, and once a seagull circled overhead; but no one came to disturb them. John sat with his back against the bole of the tree, his right arm round Christina, and her head lay on his shoulder. Few, places could have been nearer the ideal for a first lesson in kissing, and once Christina let herself go she proved an apt pupil; but John was careful to keep matters on the level of a game not to be taken seriously. He had set out to take the girl's mind off the grim anxieties which he knew must lie at the back of it. That he had succeeded was clear, and he was thoroughly enjoying the process, but he said nothing which she could take as an indication that he was falling in love with her, as he feared that being so inexperienced she might think him in earnest and later, perhaps, suffer from disappointment.

As the sunny afternoon wore on they became drowsy and, still embraced, fell asleep. John was the first to wake and, glancing at his wrist watch, saw that it was after five o'clock. With a gentle kiss he aroused Christina, and said

`Wake up, my pretty. It's time for us to be going. We ought to have started before, really.'

As she disentangled herself and began to tidy her hair she shivered and replied, `Yes, I suppose we ought. Although the sun is still shining, it has turned quite cold.'

`At this time of the year it always does at this hour. The sun loses its power and the wind changes, bringing the icy currents down from the snow on top of the mountains. More elderly people die of pneumonia on this coast than anywhere else in the world. They only have to once forget to take an overcoat with them if they are going to be out after five o'clock, and they've had it. I don't wonder you're chilly in that light frock. Come on now! We'll step out and get your circulation going.'

She stood up and brushed down her skirt, while he crammed the empty bottle and glasses back into the basket. Two minutes later they were on their way down the hill, but its steepness prevented their pace from being much faster than that at which they had come up; so it was well past six when they arrived back at Christina's villa to collect the things she had packed that morning.

John carried the suitcase across, and in Molly's sitting room they found her with Colonel Verney. He was a tall, rather thin, man, and, as he stood up to be introduced to Christina, would have appeared to be even taller but for a slight stoop that was habitual to him. His hair was going grey, parted in the centre, and brushed smoothly back. His face was longish, with a firm mouth and determined chin; but the other features were dominated by the big aggressive nose that had earned him the nickname of Conky Bill or, as most of his friends called him for short, C. B. His eyebrows were thick and prawn like. Below them his grey eyes had the curious quality of seeming to look right through one. He usually spoke very quietly, in an almost confidential tone, and gave the pleasing impression that there were very few things out of which he did not derive a certain amount of amusement.

To Christina he said, `Well, young lady, I hear you are being pursued by bad men, but I usually eat a couple for breakfast; so you must lead me to them. Perhaps we can have a little talk after dinner, then I'll have a better idea how to set my traps.'

Christina smiled in reply. `I don't think there is much I can tell you that I haven't already told Mrs. Fountain, but I'll answer any questions you like.'

Taking her by the arm, Molly said, `Come along, my dear. Last night we had to pop you into bed just anyhow; so I'll come up with you to your room and see that you have everything you want.'

C. B. and John had already smiled a greeting at one another; so the latter followed the two women out of the room with Christina's bag. When he returned two minutes later, the tall Colonel said

`Well, young feller! How's the world been treating you?' `I've no complaints, sir, thanks,' John replied cheerfully. `And it's very nice to have you with us again.'

`To tell you the truth, I was delighted when your mother rang up. I was due to spend the next few days getting out a lot of tiresome statistics, and it gave me just the excuse I needed to unload the job on to one of my stooges.'

`I'm very glad you could come, sir. This seems a most extraordinary business, and I can't make head or tail of it.'

`You mean the Black Magic slant to it, eh? Well, I don't suppose you would. Those boys are experts at keeping their lights under bushels; so the general public rarely hears anything about them except from an occasional article appearing in the press, and they generally write that off as nonsense.'

`May I give you another drink, sir? Then perhaps you would tell me something about it.'

`Do, John.' C. B. began to refill a very clean, long stemmed pipe. `Mine's a gin and French. But why so much of the “sir” all of a sudden? I know I'm an old fogey, but you've known me long enough to call me C. B. You always used to when you were a little chap.'

John grinned. 'Ah! But I've done my military service since then, and we were taught that we should always call the Colonel “sir” at least three times before slapping him on the back.'

`Not a bad precept either. Come and sit down, and tell me what you make of this girl Christina, and the set up next door.'

`I don't think there is much to tell about her villa.' John handed the Colonel his drink, then perched himself on the sofa. `The old gardener who looks after the place and caretaker when it is empty has been there for years. Maria, the Catalan borne, is a rather surly type, but as she was engaged by Christina's father there doesn't seem any reason to suppose that there is anything fishy about her. We know definitely now that the de Grasses are simply acting as the Canon's agents, but. ..'

`How do you know?' put in C. B. quietly.

`Because Jules de Grasse told me so himself,' John replied, and went on to give an account of the visit he had received that morning.