Guido, Harry and I can more than take care of any crackpot. What do you say?'
Julia's face brightened.
'Of course. I know the whole thing is silly, but I would feel so much better if you did come. There's only Dixon and Ethel in the house. Perhaps you are right and nothing will happen, but if you were there...'
Don got to his feet.
'That's a bet. I'll be along soon after eight. Now don't worry any more. Have a nice lunch and put this out of your mind,' he said as they walked into the hall. 'I'll see you tonight.'
Cherry appeared, pink and benign.
'I have ordered a taxi for Mrs Ferenci,' he announced. 'It is arriving now.'
Julia gave him a bright smile. Watching her, Don was relieved to see how much better she looked.
'Thank you, Cherry,' she said, and turning to Don, went on, 'You don't know what a relief this is to me to know you will be with us tonight.'
'You worry too much,' Don said. 'Put it out of your mind.'
When the taxi had driven her away, Don went back to the lounge. He finished his drink and stood frowning out of the window.
The Tortoise.
Was there anything in this or was it a hoax? Were there any of Guido's friends capable of going to such lengths just to pull his leg? Don doubted it. A crackpot then?
After a moment's hesitation, he went over to the telephone and dialled Whitehall 22. It would do no harm, he told himself, to ask Chief Superintendent Dicks of the Special Branch if he had ever heard of anyone calling himself the Tortoise. When he finally got through to Dicks' office, he was told the Superintendent had just gone to lunch and was not expected back until six o'clock.
'Never mind,' Don said. 'No, there's no message.'
Marian Rigby, Don's dark, attractive secretary, came hurrying into the lounge.
'There you are,' she said. 'You haven't forgotten you are lunching with Sir Robert at one?'
'I'm just off. Am I doing anything tonight, Marian?' 'There's the film premiere. You promised to go.' 'Oh, that. Would you call them and tell them I can't make it?' He smiled. 'I have a date with a gentleman who calls himself the Tortoise.
That sounds more exciting than a premiere, doesn't it?'
Guido Ferenci, tall and fair, his handsome face still deeply tanned from the sun of Portofino where Julia and he had been holidaying a few weeks previously, poured an 85 brandy into balloon glasses with a loving hand.
'Don't think for a moment you are hoodwinking me,' he said as he gave Don one of the glasses. 'This rot about passing and looking in for a drink is so much eyewash. Julia brougt you here to act as my bodyguard, didn't she?'
Don grinned.
'For a foreigner, he speaks beautiful English, doesn't he?' he said looking over at Julia. 'I only wish I could speak Italian half as well.'
'You speak Italian like a native,' Julia said.
Guido looked affectionately at her.
'And that won't wash either. Never mind how well Don speaks Italian,' he said, sinking into a big lounging chair opposite the one in which Don was sitting. 'Now admit it: Julia persuaded you to come down to guard me, didn't she?
Well, it's nice of you to come, but don't tell me you take this joker seriously. How can anyone take him seriously? Ten thousand pounds! Where does Mr Tortoise imagine I can raise that a kind of money?'
Don lit a cigarette.
'I don't take it seriously, but on the other hand, there are a few dangerous crackpots around. This fellow seems to be carrying the joke rather far. What happened to the tortoise and the note on its back that arrived this morning? I'd like to have a look-see.'
'So you shall. Dixon's looking after the tortoise,' Guido said, getting up to ring the bell. 'I have the note in my desk.'
As he opened a drawer in the desk, Dixon, Guido's manservant, came in. Powerfully built, with a hard, strong face, he looked what he had been during the war: a quarter-master of a destroyer.
'Bring the tortoise in, will you?' Guido said. 'Mr Micklem would like to inspect it.'
'Very good, sir,' Dixon said and gave Don a respectful nod.
'Now where's that note?' Guido said as Dixon left the room. 'I put it in this drawer, but it's gone. Have you moved it, Julia?'
'No,' Julia said, getting to her feet, 'Let me look. You know you can never find anything.'
'When you get married, Don, acquire the reputation of never finding anything,' Guido said, sitting down and smiling.
'It saves endless hours of dreary searching. Julia always finds my things for me now.'
'I'm not being very successful at the moment,' Julia said. 'It's not in the desk. Are you sure you didn't throw it away as you did the first note?'
