back of the house and double doors had opened near a flight of steps.
A tall well-padded man with greying hair appeared. He was holding a huge dog on a leash, some kind of ferocious-looking wolfhound which tugged at the leash and then stood for a moment, sniffing the air.
'Damn!' Newman muttered. 'The wind's behind me and that nasty-looking beast may pick up our scent.'
'Horrible brute,' replied Philip, who had returned and dropped to the ground next to Newman. 'Imposing sort of chap. Oh, Lord, he's coming this way.'
The figure with the dog had descended the steps and was beginning to walk with brisk strides down the track where earlier Newman had driven towards the cliff edge.
As he drew closer Newman let his binoculars drop so they were looped round his neck and stared in disbelief.
'It can't be.' he said. 'We might as well stand up. He's going to see us.'
Despite the raw wind, the low temperature, the man coming towards them wore an expensive-looking midnight-blue suit, a white shirt, and a pale grey tie. His large head was held erect, his complexion was ruddy, his features were strong with a Roman nose and a wide mouth above a firm jaw. He walked with an air of complete self-assurance and had a commanding presence. He was very close when he left the track and stood on a large flat rock, the dog straining at the leash.
'Heel, Igor,' the tall man ordered.
The dog immediately sat beside its master, its mouth open, teeth showing, gazing at Newman as though it hoped it was suppertime.
'Mr Robert Newman, I presume,' the tall man remarked. 'I think as Stanley said to Livingstone, or was it the other way round?'
'One or the other.' Newman replied calmly. 'And you are right. Robert Newman.'
'Welcome to Grenville Grange. I am Leopold Brazil.'
8
Newman studied the large man before reacting: an aura of power seemed to emanate from him as he stood calmly, steady as the rock beneath him, with the full blast of the wind battering him. He had startlingly blue eyes and Newman realized he was in the presence of a most unusual and forceful personality.
'I once tried to interview you.' Newman recalled.
'Indeed you did.' The ghost of a smile crossed Brazil's face. 'I rarely give interviews but now that I have met you I almost wish I had granted your request. Have you seen a minion of mine, a certain Carson Craig?'
'Yes. He's tied up behind the wall. He made a mistake. He threatened me with a shotgun.'
'Oh 7 Lord.' Brazil sighed. 'Actually he is one of my most able deputies. A brilliant administrator, but he has an evil temper. I am constantly telling him that he must control it. Could your friend beside you kindly release him and I will send him back to the house.'
'Do it.' Newman said quietly to Philip.
'I also observe you have two cars with you, one with a woman behind the wheel…'
Newman then realized that from his vantage point on the rock Brazil could see the vehicles over the top of the wall. He glanced at the Porsche. Eve, seated behind her wheel, had wrapped a scarf round her head and was now wearing tinted glasses.
'I trust you were not thinking of driving back down the track along Lyman's Tout.' Brazil continued in his amiable tone. 'I see they are pointed that way. It is a dangerous route. I urge you to return the way you used to come here – along my drive. The gates are shut but I will order Craig to open them for you.'
'I'm not sure that route might not be more dangerous.' Newman told him bluntly.
'Ah, a man of my own heart. Cautious, taking no chances unless compelled to.' Brazil chuckled. 'Mr Newman, I will sit with you in the front passenger seat and escort you to the road. We have to give Craig time to reach the house and operate the automatic gates.'
Inwardly, Newman was again taken aback, although nothing in his expression showed his surprise. Philip, who had earlier been given the key by Marler before hiding in the back of the Merc, had removed the blindfold and the gag and then unlocked the handcuffs.
Craig staggered to his feet, blinking, saw Newman, began stumbling towards him.
'You…'
'Craig!' Brazil's tone was like a man addressing a child. 'Don't make bad worse. Kindly keep your mouth closed. Go back to the house and open the gates. Mr Newman and his companions are leaving. I shall be sitting with Mr Newman before I bid him a safe journey and return to the house. Move, man!' he suddenly thundered.
Bewildered, Craig stumbled past the end of the stone wall, paused when he saw his shotgun lying on the ground.
'I… said… move… Craig.' Brazil ordered in a soft tone which seemed to scare his deputy.
As Craig was passing him Brazil handed over the leash holding the wolfhound, said nothing while Craig took charge of the dog and tried to hurry back to the house.
'We won't want this,' Brazil said briskly.
Leaping very athletically off the rock, he picked up the shotgun, checked it, took hold of it by the stock, and hurled it towards the sea. It vanished over the edge of the cliff. Newman was impressed by Brazil's physical strength , it had been a long way to hurl a heavy object.
'I'll travel in the Porsche,' Philip suggested, to Newman's relief.
He was thinking quickly in this bizarre situation, Newman noted. He had realized he couldn't travel in the rear of the Merc with Marler still curled up under the travelling rug.
'I'm riding with you,' Philip called out as he approached Eve. 'Newman leads and we follow. We're going out the way we came in.'
'What the hell is going on?'
'Just get ready to turn the car round and follow Bob.'
'You are bossy.'
'When it's necessary.' Philip rapped back.
Newman opened the front passenger door of his car and Brazil slipped into the seat, fastening his seat belt. He laughed.
'That's a precaution in case you get it wrong and take us over the cliff.'
'I'll try and avoid doing that.' Newman responded jocularly. 'How did you know there was someone behind the wall – that I was there?' he asked as he eased his way back into the grounds.
'Elementary, my dear Watson. I like neatness. When I was last here I gave orders for the pebble track we are about to drive onto to be raked over. When I came out on to the terrace I noticed wheel marks. A simple deduction.'
The wheels were crunching over the pebbles now with the Porsche close behind them. Brazil clasped his large hands, very relaxed.
'You see, the gates are open.' he remarked as they drove slowly round the corner of the house. 'Mr Newman, would you mind if I asked you an important favour?'
'Ask away. It depends on whether I can help you.'
'I am very anxious to meet Mr Tweed during the next week.'
For the third time Brazil had thrown Newman off balance. It only took him seconds to phrase a reply.
'I think Tweed will want to know why you wish to see him.'
'Naturally. He is a most formidable man. I would like to discuss with him the present state of the world. To get his views on what should be done to correct a chaotic situation. I am talking globally, you can tell him.'
'If he's willing, how does he contact you?'
'If it does not seem impolite I will contact him. Then I will suggest a mutually convenient rendezvous.'
'I'll certainly pass the message on when I next see him.'
'Thank you. I am grateful.'
In his rear-view mirror Newman was checking for signs of activity outside the house. There were none. Again
