He left then, and Joanna snorted with laughter. This time Craig didn't join in.
'Darling,' she said. 'Wasn't he funny?' 'Hilarious,' said Craig. 'But he had to break his heart to do it.'
Next morning, Craig went through what he intended to be a ritual for the rest of his life. After bathing, shaving, and ordering breakfast, he looked first at his bank statement, then at the letter Loomis had signed. The bank statement was fine; the letter was a blank page. Craig held it to the light, ran a finger over its surface. It was a blank paper and nothing more. He went into the bedroom and woke Joanna, held the paper out in front of her.
'You knew, didn't you?' he asked.
She shrugged. There was no sense in denial.
'Yes, darling. That's why we made you wait a day. Loomis didn't need authority. He needed the ink. It had to be flown out from London.'
'The bastard,' said Craig. 'The great, fat, cunning bastard.'
'You've still got two hundred and thirty-nine thousand dollars,' she said, then. 'He gave me a message for you.' 'Well?'
'We can travel back together if we want to. Economy. If we go back first we pay the difference.'
Craig took off his coat, began to loosen his tie.
'What on earth are you doing?' she asked.
'I've got two days of freedom,' said Craig. 'I'm going to enjoy them.'
'But you said you'd show me New York.'
'You can begin with this ceiling,' said Craig.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
James Munro was born in 1926 in the north of England. Since his graduation from Oxford, he has worked in a shipyard, in the Civil Service, as a travel courier and as a teacher. He is the author of
