At 19.30 hrs. he heard a door open and he became alert. Leaning forward, he peered through the crack to see Rosnold come out of his room, insert a key in the lock and turn it. Girland shoved the armchair away and moved out into the corridor. He too locked his door and turned to make for the elevator.
Rosnold recognised him and smiled.
'So we meet again,' he said and offered his hand.
Girland shook hands.
'I didn't know you were staying here,' he said. 'No further trouble with your car?'
'No... thanks to you. If you're not in a hurry, give me the pleasure of buying you a drink,' Rosnold said. 'I am most grateful to you.'
'Not at all.' Girland fell into step beside Rosnold. 'I'm here for a short vacation. I've been cooped up in Paris too long and I felt the need to stretch my legs. Would you know of a good restaurant around here? I get bored with hotel meals all the time.'
They reached the elevator and went down to the ground floor as Rosnold said, 'You mean you are on your own? Come and dine with us. I would take it as a favour.'
'But your wife...' Girland let this hang.
Rosnold laughed.
'She's not my wife. We go around together. She'll be delighted. She's already told me she thinks you are dreamy.'
Girland laughed.
'You certainly know how to pick them.'
They went into the tiny bar and got the only, corner table. Both ordered double Scotch on the rocks.
'I'm in the photographic racket,' Rosnold volunteered as they waited for their drinks. 'What's your racket?'
I can't say I have one single racket,' Girland said and grinned. 'I work a number: agent for this and that. I work when I feel like it which isn't often. I guess I'm lucky. My old man left me some heavy money which I take care of.'
Rosnold looked impressed. He eyed Girland's clothes which had been bought with Dorey's money from a top tailor in London.
' Some people have all the luck. I have to work for my living.'
'You don't look as if you have to grumble.'
'Oh, I get by.'
As the drinks arrived, Gillian Sherman came into the bar. She was wearing a scarlet trousered cocktail suit of light nylon and wool with a gold link-chain around her slim waist. Girland thought she looked sensational. The two men got to their feet.
'This is Gilly... Gillian Sherman.' Rosnold blinked, then turned to Girland. 'I'm sorry . . . damn it! I haven't introduced myself. Pierre Rosnold.'
Girland was looking at Gilly.
'Mark Girland,' he said and took the hand she offered. Her grip was cool and firm. Mischief and sex danced in her eyes and she surveyed him. 'Miss Sherman, this brief encounter has made my vacation.'
'What makes you think it is going to be brief?' Gilly asked as she sat down. 'Pierre, a Cinzano bitter, please.'
As Rosnold went to the bar, Girland said, 'Two's company ...'
She regarded him.
'Can't you do better than that?'
'I could.'
They stared at each other. Girland gave her his intense look he had cultivated for just such an occasion. It was completely insincere, but it usually had a devasting effect on most women. Gilly reacted to it as he hoped she would.
She leaned forward and smiled at him.
'Yes ... I think you could,' she murmured.
Rosnold joined them with the drink and set it before her. They talked. When Girland wished, he could be witty, amusing and often bawdy. Smoothly, he went into his act, and after a few minutes, he was holding the stage with Rosnold grinning appreciatively and Gilly doubled up with laughter.
It was while he was being his most entertaining that a tall, lean man came into the bar. He was about forty years of age with thick, flaxen hair taken straight back off a narrow forehead. His deeply-tanned face was long and narrow and his alert eyes a washed-out blue. He wore a bottle-green velvet smoking jacket, a frilled white shirt, a green string tie and black trousers. Around his thick muscular left wrist was a heavy platinum chain. On his right wrist a platinum Omega watch. He had that confident, slightly arrogant air reserved for the immensely rich. He merely glanced at the three sitting at the corner table, then sat on a stool up at the bar.
'Good evening, Count von Goltz,' the barman said, bowing. 'What is your pleasure?'
'A glass of champagne ... my usual,' the man said, and taking a heavy gold Cigarette case from his pocket, he selected an oval-shaped cigarette which the barman moved forward to light.
'Phew!' Gilly breathed. 'Some doll!'
Girland found her concentration in him had snapped. She was now studying the back of the blond man, her eyes calculating.
Rosnold touched her arm.
'Do you mind getting your eyes back on me, cherie?' he said, a slight rasp in his voice.
'Buy him for me, Pierre . . . he's simply gorgeous.' Gilly had deliberately raised her voice.
The blond man turned and regarded her. He smiled, an easy, pleasant smile.
'Your French tells me you are an American, mademoiselle, and I adore uninhibited Americans.' He slid off his stool and gave a stiff little bow. Then looking at Rosnold, he said, 'But I may be intruding, sir. If I am, I will take my drink into the lounge.'
Both Rosnold and Girland got to their feet.
'Intruding? Of course not,' Rosnold said. 'Perhaps you would care to join us?'
'For a few minutes... I would be delighted.' Von Goltz pulled up a chair. 'Count Hans von Goltz,' and he bowed.
Rosnold made the introductions while Gilly continued to stare at von Goltz.
'You mean you are a real count?' she asked breathlessly. 'I've never met a real count before!'
Von Goltz laughed.
'I am delighted to be the first.' His eyes shifted to Girland. 'And you? Are you also American?'
'That's right,' Girland said. 'I'm here just for a short vacation.'
Von Goltz nodded.
'This is ideal country for a vacation.' Sitting down, he began to talk about Garmisch and the surrounding district. Soon the conversation became general. When von Goltz had finished his glass of champagne, Rosnold asked him to have another, but von Goltz shook his head.
'Thank you, but I am afraid I must leave you. Please excuse me. I have a dinner date.' He regarded Gilly. 'If you have nothing better to do, perhaps you and your friends would care to visit my modest Schloss* not far from here? It could interest you. I can offer you all kinds of amusements. There is a heated swimming-pool, a lovely forest, twelve hundred acres of bridle paths and shooting - although
Gilly clapped her hands, her eyes opening wide.
'That's marvellous! We would love to come!'
'My place is large and often lonely,' von Goltz said and lifted his shoulders. T live alone. I would welcome you all if you would care to stay for five or six days. I assure you you won't be bored. Would you all give me the honour of being your host?'
Gilly turned to Rosnold.
'Oh, do let's! It sounds absolutely dreamy!'
'It is very kind of you,'Rosnold said. 'If you are sure we won't be a burden, then we would happily accept your invitation.'
