As I was registering I glanced at the key rack and saw that the key of number two hundred and ten was hanging there. Vagas was out. I went up to my room, deposited my hat, unpacked the sponge bag and the pyjamas and then descended to the lounge. There I selected a table from which I could see across the foyer to the main entrance, ordered a drink and sat down to wait.
He would, I thought, be returning to the hotel to change his clothes for the evening, and I was right. I had just finished my second drink when I saw him come through the revolving doors, collect his key and walk towards the lift. I put my drink down quickly and dashed for the stairs. I just had time to reach the lift entrance on the second floor and press the button as if to summon the lift, when the doors opened.
Vagas stepped out and we met face to face.
His eyebrows went up; but as evident as his surprise was his suspicion. I affected amazement and delight. Before he could say a word I seized his hand and wrung it heartily.
“General Vagas! the very man I’ve been looking for!”
“Mr. Marlow! this is most unexpected.”
“Very unexpected,” I said warmly. “I’ve been wondering all the afternoon where I could find you. I looked up your address in the directory, but your place was shut up. I’d given it up as hopeless. And all the time, we were on the same floor in the same hotel!”
He smiled faintly. “Well, now that you have found me, Mr. Marlow, perhaps you will join me in a drink.”
“I should be delighted. This is remarkable,” I babbled enthusiastically as we walked along the corridor. “When I found your place empty, I naturally thought that you must be away.”
His lips still smiling, he listened. I could almost feel his suspicion of me. Inside the room, he went to a cupboard and got out some glasses and two bottles.
“When did you arrive, Mr. Marlow? Brandy and Evian?”
“Thank you. This afternoon after lunch.”
“From Italy.”
But Zaleshoff had coached me carefully. “No, from Vienna.” I laughed. “That little business transaction of ours did not end very happily, did it, General? You know, I was in Naples at the time, and if my assistant had not telephoned me when I was in Rome and warned me, I really believe they would have arrested me when I got back. Naturally, my Consul would have put that right quick enough, but I thought that I had better play for safety. I managed to get a boat for Villefranche. I tried to telephone you in Milan, but your manservant told me that you had left.” I delivered a long tirade against the interference of the Italian police in private business matters.
He listened politely. “I understand that the Commendatore was arrested. Most unfortunate. It was reported in the papers. By the way, have you seen the Italian papers lately, Mr. Marlow?”
“No. Why?”
“I thought you might have seen the reports of the case. Most interesting.”
I wondered if he knew that the Italian papers had been quite silent on the subject of the Commendatore. I found out soon that he did know it.
He handed me a glass and bent down to fill his own.
“Mr. Marlow,” he said over his shoulder, “I am most curious to know just why you came to Belgrade instead of returning to England and why you were so anxious to see me.”
I registered astonishment. “You don’t mean to say that you’ve forgotten about those questions you asked me in your letter? I took quite a lot of trouble over them, and then I did not have time to write to you before I left for Naples. After that, as I told you, I found that you’d left Milan. I…”
His hand with the bottle of Evian in it had been moving towards his glass. Suddenly it stopped. He straightened his back.
“One moment, Mr. Marlow. Am I to understand that you had actually secured that information before you left Italy?”
“You are, General.” I grinned. “With a five thousand lire bonus at the end of it, can you blame me for taking a little holiday trip to Belgrade. I don’t suppose that Spartacus will be very pleased with me over this bribery business. It’s not my fault, of course. But the Italians may rat on that contract. I shall probably be glad of fifty pounds.”
For a moment or two he looked at me in silence. Then:
“You have the information with you, Mr. Marlow?”
I smiled and tapped my forehead. “In here, General.” I had, I hoped, the air of a cunning, stupid man who knows that he has the whip-hand and is determined to use it.
He contemplated me thoughtfully. His eyes were very dangerous, and I could feel my assumed confidence oozing away, leaving only a wooden empty smile behind it. Then he put his hand in his breast pocket and drew out a wallet. Slowly he counted out five mille notes and tossed them on to the table in front of me.
“Well, Mr. Marlow?”
I repeated the second part of Zaleshoff’s lesson and had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes gleam with interest. He went to a bureau, drew out a piece of paper and told me to repeat what I had said. I did so. He jotted down a note or two. At last he stood up again.
“I am glad to state, Mr. Marlow, that this information has the appearance of accuracy and may be of use to us. I think I should remind you, however, that this transaction must be our last. I should be quite unable to persuade my superiors that there is any reason for continuing to pay your salary now that you are no longer persona grata in Italy. You understand that?”
“Oh yes, General.” I hesitated and looked at him rather furtively. “With regard to the matter we discussed in the car that night, I should like some assurance that the information concerning my employers’ business will not be used in any way… er… prejudicial.”
A glint of amusement appeared for an instant in his eyes; but he assured me gravely enough that I need have no fears.
“Can I persuade you to have dinner with me, Mr. Marlow?” he added.
“I should like to, General, but I am leaving for London in the morning and I have some letters to write. I feel sure you will excuse me.”
It was feeble enough as an excuse, but he nodded. Clearly, he had not expected me to accept.
“A pity. However”-he held out his hand-“ bon voyage, Mr. Marlow, and thank you. My wife will be sorry that she missed you.”
I almost jumped. Was it possible that the man did not know of his wife’s death? Then I realised that the statement was a trap. I had said that I had not seen the Italian papers. I ought not to know that his wife was dead, that she had killed herself. He was grasping my hand, and I was afraid for a moment that he might have felt the involuntary contraction of my muscles. That was, of course, why he had taken my hand before he had mentioned his wife.
I managed to keep my voice level. “Please convey my respects to Madame Vagas.”
Then a curious thing happened. Before this, I had not seen him in the daylight. His maquillage was not as heavy as that which he wore at night. Now, as his cheeks creased momentarily into the first genuine smile I had seen on his face, I saw that beneath the paint his face was pock-marked.
The smile was gone; but when he spoke his voice held laughter, the laughter of a man who is enjoying a good joke.
“I shall do my best to convey your respects to my wife, Mr. Marlow,” he said deliberately; “I shall make a point of doing so next time I see her. A rivederci.”
I fumbled with the door-knob. I was feeling slightly sick.
“Good night, General.”
As the door shut behind me I heard him laugh.
I got my hat from my room and went downstairs on my way to report to Zaleshoff. I was not sure that I had not been made a fool of. Then, as I stopped by the desk to leave my key, I heard something which made me change my mind. The telephone stood adjacent to the clerk’s desk and I heard the operator repeat the word “Berlin” twice and then “ danke.” Someone in the hotel was putting a call through to Berlin.
I turned to the clerk.
“I wonder if that Berlin call would be for me,” I said in Italian.
“What name, Signore?”
“Marlow.”
