depressing black eyes and the dark overshadowed face.
Natalie had control of herself now. The whisky had given her false confidence.
'Sit down, please, Mr. Burnett. I won't be wasting your time. I have information regarding Mr. Kahlenberg that you will wish to hear.'
Burnett lowered his bulk into an armchair. His expression showed mild interest, but his shrewd mind was thinking: So it has paid off. One drops a seed here and there, and sometimes it germinates.
As Chairman of the National Bank of Natal which was owned by Max Kahlenberg, Burnett was under instructions from his Chief to collect every scrap of information circulating in London that could effect Kahlenberg's kingdom in Natal.
Some twelve days ago, Kahlenberg had sent him a brief cable:
Burnett knew all about Armo Shalik, but nothing of his business activities. The cable dismayed him. To get information about Shalik . . . the kind of information that would interest Kahlenberg . . . would be as difficult as getting information from the Sphinx. However, Burnett knew he had to do something about this request. When Kahlenberg asked for information, he expected to get it no matter the difficulties or the cost.
It so happened that two days later, Shalik threw a cocktail party in his suite to which Burnett was invited. Here, he met Natalie Norman.
Burnett believed in being pleasant to the underlings. Didn't George Bernard Shaw say once: you may kick an old man: you know what he is, but never kick a young man: you don't know what he will become?
Seeing Natalie supervising the drinks and being ignored by the chattering guests, he had detached himself from his tiresome wife and cornered her. He had charm, and was an easy con versationalist and he quickly learned that this pale-faced, plain- looking woman was Shalik's personal assistant, and he could see that she was sexually starved.
He easily won her confidence and chatted with her for some minutes while his mind worked swiftly. She could be vitally important to him and he knew he couldn't remain with her for long as Shalik was already glancing in their direction with lifted eyebrows.
'Miss Norman,' he said quietly, 'I am in the position to help people like yourself should you need help. Please remember my name; Charles Burnett, the National Bank of Natal. Should you ever get dissatisfied with your job here, should you wish to earn more money, do please contact me.'
As her expression became bewildered, he smiled and left her.
After returning home, he sat in his study and considered his next move. He hoped he hadn't rushed his fences with this pale- faced woman. She could be the spy he needed. Obviously, she needed physical contact with a virile man. Burnett knew all the signs: her thinness, her dark ringed eyes, her depressed expression. What she needed was a lusty bedmate: he decided this must be the first move to ensnare her.
Burnett had many useful contacts and among them was ex- Inspector Tom Parkins of the C.I.D. He telephoned him.
'Parkins . . . I am looking for a young rogue who could do a special job for me. He must be completely unscrupulous and good looking with personality and around twenty-five, not older. Do you know of anyone like that?'
The cop voice said, 'Shouldn't be too difficult, sir. Would the pay be interesting?'
'Very.'
'I'll turn it over in my mind, sir. Suppose I call you after lunch?'
'Do that,' Burnett said, satisfied that he would get what he wanted.
Around 15.00 hrs., Parkins telephoned.
'I've got your man, sir,' he said. 'Daz Jackson: twenty-four years of age, excellent appearance, plays a guitar in a fifth rate Soho club and needs money. He served two years for petty larceny three years ago.'
Burnett hesitated.
'This might be a little tricky, Parkins. I'm not letting myself in for blackmail?'
'Oh no, sir. Anything like that . . . and it won't happen, I assure you . . . I could handle for you. I have quite a lot on this young tearaway. You don't have to worry about that angle.'
'Very well. Send him here at 17.00 hrs. I'll arrange to have ten pounds credited to your account with us,
