breath with a little hiss of decision and she spoke so softly that he
barely caught the words.
I want you back. That's the other reason, Nicholas. And he stared at
her while she went on. It was all part of the madness. I didn't
realize what I was doing. But the madness is over now. Sweet merciful
God, you'll never know how much I've missed you. You'll never know how
I've suffered. She stopped and fluttered one small hand.
I'll make it up to you, Nicholas, I swear it to you. But Peter and I
need you, we both need you desperately. He could not answer for a
moment, she had taken him if by surprise and he felt his whole life
shaken again and the separate parts of it tumbled like dice from the cup
of chance.
There is no road back, Chantelle. We can only go forward. I always get
what I want, Nicholas, you know that/ she warned him.
Not this time, Chantelle. He shook his head, but he knew her words
would wear away at him.
Duncan Alexander slumped on the luxurious calf-hide seat of the Rolls,
and he spoke into the telephone extension that connected him directly
with his office in Leadenhall Street.
Were you able to reach Kurt Streicher? he asked.
I'm sorry, Mr. Alexander. His office was unable to contact him. He is
in Africa on a hunting safari. They did not know when to expect him
back in Geneva., Thank you, Myrtle. Duncan's smile was completely
lacking in humour. Streicher was suddenly one of the world's most
industrious sportsmen - last week he had been skiing and was out of
contact, this week he was in Africa slaughtering elephant, perhaps next
week he would be chasing polar bears in the Arctic. And by then, it
would be too late, of course.
Streicher was not alone. Since the salvage award on Golden Adventurer,
so many of his financial contacts had become elusive, veritable
will-o'-the-wisps skipping ahead of him with their cheque books firmly
buttoned into their pockets.
I shall not be back at the office again today, he told his secretary.
Please have my pending tray sent round to Eaton Square. I will work on
it tonight, and do you think you could get in an hour earlier tomorrow
morning? Of course, Mr. Alexander. He replaced the handset and glanced
out of the window.
The Rolls was passing Regent's Park, heading in the direction of St
John's Wood; three times in the last six months he had taken this route,
and suddenly Duncan felt that hot scalding lump deep under his ribs, He
straightened up in his seat but the pain persisted, and he sighed and
opened the rosewood liquor cabinet, spilled a spoonful of the powder
into a glass and topped it with soda-water.
He considered the turbid draught with distaste, then drank it at a gulp.
It left an after-taste of peppermint on his tongue, but the relief was
almost immediate. He felt the acid burn subside, and he belched softly.
He did not need a doctor to tell him that it was a duodenal ulcer,
probably a whole bunch of them - or was that the correct collective
noun, a tribe of ulcers, a convocation? He smiled again, and carefully
