night. This one was as trimmed and tidied as if it had just been delivered, cellophane-wrapped, the lawns shaved to a perfect symmetry, the roses scented by Chanel. In the shadow of a cypress tree, Craig examined the house. It seemed to be deserted. Together, he and Ashford worked their way toward it, seeking an open window. They found one at last and went into the lounge, stole a bottle of brandy and went upstairs, looking for a bathroom. From the yacht in the bay, an outboard motor spluttered, caught, then died.
They found a bathroom, and Ashford groaned aloud when he saw his face. Then it was Craig's turn to feel the gentle sting of soap, and Ashford's fingers peeling Band-Aid on to the open cuts on his cheek and back. He looked at his finger. That would have to be seen to soon, but Ashford was shaking too much to try it. Suddenly the bathroom door handle turned. Craig ran the tap harder, and listened for the soft sound of footsteps on the carpet, then slipped out of the bathroom. The corridor was lit now, and he turned off the switch. Light streamed from beneath a bedroom door. Craig took out the Woodsman and made no more noise than a shadow as he reached the door and turned the handle. It swung open without a sound. A girl was lying on the bed reading. She looked up to see him in the doorway, and was very still.
'Quiet now,' said Craig. 'Just stay quiet and you won't get hurt.'
'Hey,' said Maria. 'You've got a gun.'
'Hey,' said Craig. 'That's right, I have.'
He lowered his arm and she ran toward him, looking up at his face.
'Jesus,' she said. 'You've taken a beating.'
Craig nodded. 'Where's Sophie?' he asked.
'In the bath. She practically lives there.'
'That was me,' said Craig.
'She's next door then. Shall I call her?'. Craig nodded again. His head seemed piled with lead weights. He went to the door and waved Ashford in before Sophie came back with Maria. Sophie wore a baby-doll nightdress and a great deal of perfume, and she embraced Craig with enthusiasm, then leaned back to look at his face.
'My poor John,' she said. 'You should have stayed with us.'
Craig put his arm around her; she felt strong, clean, and very feminine.
'This is a colleague of mine-Richard Ashford,' he said. Sophie looked at him, said 'My God' twice, ran back to her bedroom, and came back wearing a dressing gown.
'A colleague?' she said.
Craig said wearily, 'We've been doing business together.'
'Where's sexy Grierson?' asked Maria. 'Taking a sea trip,' said Craig. 'He'll be back.' From very far off, there came the sound of a shot, then another.
'Backfire?' Maria asked.
Craig ran to the veranda. The boat with the outboard now roaring again was zigzagging toward the yacht, and on the headland three men were firing into it. He went back to the bedroom.
'Trouble,' he said. 'Who owns this place?'
'Dan Turner,' Sophie answered. 'You remember. You met him in St. Trop.'
'Where is he now?'
'He's gone to a poker game in Beaulieu. He's bringing a party back later. Darling, what's wrong? What is happening?'
'Just give me a minute,' Craig said. 'Where are all the servants? A place this size should be swarming with them.'
'Jerks,' said Maria. 'They quit.' 'Maria, that's not fair,' said Sophie. 'Dan is a very amusing person, but he does get a littie drunk sometimes.
And he likes to fire his revolver. Even then I don't think they would have minded, but he's such a bad shot. So they left. All he's got now is a cook and a chauffeur.' 'Where are they?'
'With him,' said Maria. 'They play poker too. Better than he does.'
'I'd like to stay here for a bit-' said Craig.
'Sure,' Maria said. 'There's scads of room, and Dan would love it. I mean it.'
'Only it might not be too safe for you. The men I had a fight with are still following me. They may come here. If they do, they'll want to kill me. Just because you're here won't make any difference.'
'That wasn't a backfire, was it?' asked Maria.
Ashford said, 'We'd really better go.'
'Ricky,' Craig said, 'you're marvelous, do you know that? And I'm very grateful to you. Let's go.'
'No,' said Sophie. 'Wait!' She came to stand very close to Craig. 'Have you held up a bank?'
'No,' answered Craig. 'Nothing like that. I'm sorry, but I can't tell you anything about it.'
Ashford said, 'He did something that had to be done. Something very brave.'
Sophie touched Craig's upper arm, feeling the hard muscle in her own strong hand.
'Brave,' she said. 'Of course, brave. That is what he is made for-all muscles and guns and a good brain he doesn't use. My poor bloody fool. You can't go away yet. You can hardly walk. Let me have a look at your hand.'
Carefully she set and bandaged the broken finger, and Craig's other hand squeezed on the arm of his chair as he willed himself not to cry out. When it was done, Sophie kissed him.
'You should have yelled,' she said. 'You should have called me a clumsy bitch.'
A doorbell chimed the opening bars of 'Sur le pont a' Avignon.'
'That Turner,' Maria said. 'He's a nut.'
'It'll be the people I told you about,' Craig said.
Maria opened a drawer by tine bedside and took out a pistol, a police Positive.
'Guns all over the house,' she said. 'It's crazy.'
Before Craig could say anything, she went downstairs, and he followed her. Ashford was right. They should have gone. He had no business to let a woman hide him, and yet he was doing it, for the second time in a few weeks.
'Who is it?' Maria yelled.
'Police,' somebody yelled back. 'Open the door.' 'If you're police, you'd better prove it,' Maria said. 'I'm not letting you in unless you are.'
'There are criminals loose. Their car is at your gate.' 'They're not here,' said Maria. 'They're murderers.'
Maria hesitated then, and it was Sophie who yelled, 'They're still not here.'
Maria said, 'Shove your badge through the mail slot or I'll shoot. Police, huh? You think I'm crazy?'
Heavy shoulders pounded at the door. Then Maria lifted the gun in both hands and fired high up into the woodwork. The pounding ceased.
'Next time I'll aim lower,' Maria said.
There was silence, then a leather wallet came through the mail slot.
'That is my warrant, mademoiselle,' someone shouted.
'Jesus,' said Maria. 'They really are police.'
Sophie raced upstairs with Craig and Ashford, and led them on to a loggia with a great trellis of vines. Craig and Ashford crouched down behind it as Sophie sped out again to help Maria open the doors. Maria stood at last in front of two policemen. She still held the police Positive.
'I'm terribly sorry,' she said. 'Honestly, I'd no idea. I mean, Sophie and I were all alone here and when you came pounding on the door like that, well-I mean, if I'd known-'
'Yes, of course,' said the older policeman. 'Now if you would just give me the gun-'
'Well, sure,' said Maria. 'I mean, I'm not very fond of them really.'
'Who is?' said the policeman, and held out his hand. Reluctantiy Maria put the gun into it.
'Mr. Turner,' she said, 'he owns this place, and he just loves guns.'
'Yes,' said the inspector. 'I've heard he does. We would like to look around the house, mademoiselle.'
'But there's nobody here but us. Honestly,' said Maria.
'It is a very big house,' said the policeman. 'There may be men here you know nothing about.'
'My God, we could use them,' said Maria, and looked at Sophie.
'Perhaps you'd better look around then,' Sophie said.
'I think so. I am Inspector Segur. This is Sergeant Martini. We are worried about you two ladies. I told you
