Thurston doesn’t think so, but he’s going to the embassy tomorrow morning, first thing, to find out. He’s being very kind. Especially since it’s obvious he thinks I’m a damned fool. No doubt you do, too.” She looked up at him with a defiant scowl that was familiar and took off her hat, and tossed her hair. “What had you told him about Briny, anyway? And about me? He seemed to know quite a bit.”
“Oh, we had too much wine one night and I cried on his shoulder about my tragic love life. I was very nice about Byron, I assure you, considering.”
She said with a trace of malice, “Yes, I’ll bet. Say, this is quite a layout at that. It’ll bankrupt you.”
“Not in the few days I’ll be here.”
“Me, I’ve dropped my bags in a flea trap back in town, sharing a room with a poor old Jewish lady from Rotterdam, whose husband got pulled off the train in Paris. I haven’t had a shower since Sunday.”
“Look, why not move in here? There’s an extra room for a maid. I’ll sleep in there. Look at that bed. A football field. It’s yours.”
“Nothing doing. Listen, Slote, if I can get to Gibraltar I’ll marry Byron. That’s what he wants.” Slote, combing his hair at a mirror framed by trumpeting gilded cherubs, stopped and gave her a pained skeptical look. She went on nervously, “I know it sounds harum-scarum and wild.” Her eyes suddenly shone, and she laughed. “But in point of fact, I want to do it myself.”
“Well, I suppose I should congratulate you, Natalie. God knows I wish you well.”
“Oh, I know you do, Slote. Don’t bother telling me how bizarre all this is. Some things are just inevitable. I love Byron.”
“Well, the place is at your disposal, anyway. They eat dinner late here. Take a shower.”
“And climb into the same old underwear?” Natalie shook her head, looking thoughtful. “I noticed a shop downstairs. Let me see what Lisbon can offer a big heifer like me.”
She came back shortly, carrying a box and looking sly. “Did you mean that invitation? I bought a pile of stuff. They had all these things from Seville, cheap and just yummy. Byron’s eyes will pop out of his head, if he ever shows up.”
“Are you low on money now?”
“My dear, I’m still rolling in it. That’s one thing about sitting on that Siena hill, with nothing to spend it on! Aaron pays me like clockwork and it just accumulates. Really, may I stay? I hate the idea of going back to town tonight. That poor old woman gives me the horrors.”
“I said the place is yours.”
“I can’t register.”
“Don’t worry.”
“All right.” She paused at the bedroom door and turned, holding the box in both arms. Her intense dark glance shook the diplomat. “People wouldn’t understand about us, would they, Slote?”
“There’s nothing to understand about me. You’re the puzzle.”
“You didn’t used to think I was puzzling.”
“I thought I had you figured out. I’m paying a steep price for oversimplifying.”
“You were an egotistical fool. I am very fond of you.”
“Thanks, Jastrow. Go take your goddamned shower.”
Next morning a buzzing at the suite door woke Slote. Tying on a robe, he came yawning out of the tiny maid’s room, and blinked. There in a blaze of sunshine sat Natalie in a dazzling white wool dress with a broad red gold-buckled belt, watching a waiter fuss over a breakfast on a wheeled table. “Oh, hi,” she said, smiling brightly and touching her carefully coiffed hair. “I didn’t know whether you wanted to get up. I ordered eggs for you, just in case. Everything’s so cheap and plentiful here!”
“I’ll brush my teeth and join you. You’re all spiffed up! How long have you been awake?”
“Hours and hours. I’m supposed to wait for Byron in the bar here at eleven o’clock today. That was the plan.”
Slote rubbed his eyes and peered at her. “What’s the matter with you? His sub’s en route to Gibraltar.”
“That’s what that man Bathurst said. Suppose he’s mistaken?”
“Natalie, he’s the naval attache.”
“I know that.”
Shaking his head, Slote signed for the breakfast and the room. Soon he returned in a shirt, slacks, and sandals and found her eating with appetite. She grinned at him. “Forgive me for being a pig, dear. What a difference sunlight makes, and coffee! I feel marvellous.”
He sat down and cut into a ripe Spanish melon. “Sweetie, do you honestly expect Byron Henry to materialize in the bar of this hotel at eleven o’clock? Just on your sheer willpower?”
“Well, Navy signals get crossed up like any others, don’t they?
“It’s just irrational, but suit yourself.”
“Do you like my dress? I bought it yesterday, right out of the window of that shop.”
“Very becoming.”
She kept glancing at her watch. “Well, wish me luck,” she said at last dropping her napkin on the table. “I’m off.”
“Do you intend to sit in the bar all day, like patience on a monument?”
“Don’t be cross with me, Leslie.”
“I’m not. I’d just like to plan the time.”
“Well, obviously, if he hasn’t showed by noon or thereabouts, the next thing is to find out how I get to Gibraltar.”
“I’ll call Bunky on that, and I’ll come down at noon.”
“Will you, please? Thanks, Leslie, thanks for everything. That bed’s wonderful; I haven’t slept so well in months.”
She could not quite keep the mischief out of her face as she said this and left with a nonchalant wave. Clearly, thought Slote, she was relishing his discomfiture. The tables were turned, and he had to endure it until he could turn them again.
He judged his chance was now at hand. Leslie Slote intended to take every possible advantage of this encounter. He could not understand Natalie’s resolve to squander herself on Byron Henry. He had made a fearful mistake in his early treatment of this magnificent girl, and now he wanted to retrieve it. Slote knew how a divorced man must feel, finding himself thrown together with an ex-wife he still loved. Between them stood a barrier of old quarrels and new proprieties — it had effectively kept him out of the big bed last night — but beneath all that lay a deep bond. If it had not been for Natalie’s fortuitous passion for the strange skinny Henry kid, he believed, they would by now be back together, very likely married. And he honestly thought he was more worthy of her and better suited to her.
Natalie might thrash about here in Lisbon for a while, he calculated; her willpower was formidable; but Gibraltar was probably impossible to get to. She would have to go back to Italy. He would accompany her to Siena, pry Aaron Jastrow loose, and send them both home. If necessary, he would wire Washington for a travel time extension. If he could not win Natalie back during all this, he sadly overestimated himself and the tie between them. He had been her first lover, after all. Slote believed that no woman ever really forgot the first man who had had her, ever got him quite out of her system.
He finished his breakfast at leisure, then telephoned Thurston. “Morning, Bunky. What did you find out about Natalie’s going to Gibraltar?”
“Forget it, Les. That submarine’s here.”
Slote had seldom heard worse news, but he suppressed any emotion in his voice. “It is? How come?”
“I don’t know. It came in at dawn. It’s tied up down at the river, near the customhouse.”
“Then what on earth was Bathurst talking about?”
“He’s mighty puzzled, and he’s going down there later to talk to the skipper. That submarine had orders to go to Gibraltar.”
“How long will it be here?”
“The original schedule called for three days.” Thurston’s voice turned puckish. “Tough luck, Les. Fantastic
