down there with food, but surely that was unlikely at this hour.
She went silently to the head of the stairs leading down to cellars and listened, but she could hear nothing. The light in the passage below was on.
She hesitated, then called, “Larry? Are you down there?”
A sound behind her made her spin around.
Archer was standing in the sitting-room doorway, a whisky and soda in his hand. The bruise on his face had deepened to an ugly purple-black.
“Larry’s in here, Helga,” he said. “Take off your coat and come on in. We’ve been waiting for you. Did you have a pleasant day?”
She kept control of herself as she took off her coat and hat. She paused to fluff up her hair with fingers that trembled.
Archer turned and went back into the room, leaving the door open.
Helga felt fury grip her: fury against herself. Her disgust, contempt and frustration had made staying with this hulking queer impossible. She should have controlled those feelings. Now she was going to pay for them.
She entered the sitting-room. Archer was standing by a lounging chair, waiting for her. Across the room, Larry was sitting on an upright chair, his hands hanging between his knees, his head down so she couldn’t see his face.
“Sit down, Helga,” Archer said.
She was glad to sit down. Once again her legs felt weak and once again she was struggling to absorb a shock.
“Excuse me.” He walked up to her and took her handbag from her before she realized what he was doing.
“How dare you!” she exclaimed but without conviction.
“Come off your high horse, Helga. You’re not in a position to get snooty.” Archer backed away, opened the bag and took from it one of the air tickets and the leather folder containing the Travellers’ Cheques. He carried them across the room and put them on an occasional table by Larry.
“There you are, my boy,” he said. “Your ticket and your money… now you get off.”
Helga watched.
Larry didn’t look up. He just sat slumped in his chair, his head down.
“Come along, Larry,” Archer said in his soothing, professional voice. “There’s no point in you hanging around here any longer. Take Helga’s car and leave it at the Lugano station. I’m sure she won’t mind and she can pick it up later. There’s a train to Milan you could catch if you hurry.”
Slowly, Larry got to his feet. He picked up the ticket and the leather folder and stuffed them into his hip pocket. Then he looked directly at Archer.
“I don’t want her car… I don’t want anything from you.”
His voice was a mumble and Helga could scarcely make out what he was saying.
“All right, Larry… you handle it,” Archer said. “Good luck… have a good trip.”
Walking heavily, Larry made for the door. As he opened the door, Helga said huskily, “Haven’t you anything to say to me?”
He didn’t appear to hear her. He went out and through the open door. She watched him open the front door and go out into the darkness. The front door shut behind him.
She closed her eyes.
There was a long pause, then Archer said, “Well, he’s gone. I’m sure you are puzzled, Helga. He lowered his bulk into an armchair. Taking his cigar case from his pocket, he selected a cigar and bit off the end. “Let me explain. Up to this morning, I have always regarded you as a clever and astute woman. You have disappointed me. To be successful in dealing with people, one needs to have a certain amount of psychological insight. This I thought you had, but obviously you haven’t. You were so besotted by Larry’s bulk and his apparent virility that you failed to realize he was a homo. That was a mistake and a bad one. I spotted it, not immediately, but soon enough to understand that he would need different handling from the way you were handling him. The one thing a homo dislikes more than anything else is contempt. He will put up with the jokes and giggles: these are things he has come to live with, but he hates contempt. So long as you thought you could drag him into your bed, you gave him kindness which he was thirsting for: all homos do. In actual fact, Helga, Larry is rather a nice boy. He’s stupid, of course, immature, doesn’t know his own strength, but basically he is simple and nice and there is no real viciousness in him. He is handicapped by his size. He would be a lot happier if he had been a pretty boy, but as he looks like an athlete, he has tried to give people who don’t spot what he really is a false image of himself drawn, no doubt, from the toughs he has seen on television. The scowl and the hard voice are marks to encourage those who think he is just another hard guy in a leather jacket and jeans. All rather pathetic really because his own breed recognize him instantly.” Archer paused to light his cigar. “You couldn’t have played a better card for me and a worse card for yourself when you reacted the way you did after Larry had told you the truth about himself. I realize you were frustrated and bitter that you weren’t going to drag him into your bed, but where was your psychological insight? Instead of being understanding and sympathetic, you were stupid enough to show him your true feelings: disgust and contempt. From the moment you knew, you treated him like, something unclean… like a leper, you might say, and you hurt him, Helga. You hurt him deeply, and you are so insensitive you didn’t even care that you had hurt him. He admired and respected you and even loved you in an odd way because up moment he told you what he was, you had whelmed him with kindness. This morning, you behaved even more stupidly if you were hoping to keep him as an ally. Without saying it in so many words, you told him you couldn’t bear to stay a minute longer in his company and your contempt was like a branding iron on his very sensitive skin. You walked out on him. I was at the cellar door, listening. The contempt in your voice when you told him to amuse himself with television and you wouldn’t be back until late, leaving him alone, told me, because of your complete lack of understanding that you had once again handed me the four aces.”
Helga listened. Her mind was beginning to function again. Larry was gone. Now only Archer and she were left in the villa. Tomorrow morning the photos would arrive. She thought of the gun. It was she who held the four aces. With the gun, she would get and destroy the photos even if she had to shoot this thief, forger and blackmailer.
She looked at Archer, her face expressionless.
“Yes, I was stupid,” she said and lifted her shoulders. “Well, one has to pay for being stupid.”
He regarded her watchfully.
“You are a fantastic woman, Helga.” There was a note of admiration in his voice. “Your dangerous, sharp brain is already working to find a way out, but I assure you, this time, there is no way out. We are back to square A.”
“Are we?” Again she lifted her shoulders. “But tell me more about Larry. How did you and he get buddies? I know you are supposed to be able to charm a bird off a tree, but I never imagined you could charm a pansy to confide in you.”
Archer blew cigar smoke towards the ceiling.
“Have a brandy?” He picked up his glass and stood up. Helga noted that he walked a little unsteadily. He had probably been drinking most of the evening while waiting for her and her eyes narrowed.
“No, thank you.”
He went to the bar and refilled his glass.
“I consider myself an amateur psychologist. When you had gone I went back to the games room and I prepared for a long wait. I heard Larry roaming around the villa: ceaselessly pacing up and down and I knew he was suffering. He didn’t know what to do with himself. Obviously, he was lonely. Around two o’clock, he came down with my lunch. I was lying on the settee, waiting for him, knowing this was my chance. I made out I was much more feeble than I was to lull his alertness. After all, he had beaten me up, so I moaned a little. I could see he was unhappy and uneasy. He had cooked me a couple of lamb chops; they looked most tempting. I said I would try to eat them and I thanked him as only I know how to thank people for taking so much trouble. He was thirsting for kindness.” Archer gave a snorting laugh. “It was rather pathetic to see his confusion at being so praised. I asked where you were and he told me you had gone out for the day. I saw his expression of resentment and how hurt he was. I said it couldn’t be much fun for him to be on his own in this big villa and should we talk while I ate my lunch? It was easy after that, Helga. I talked about you, I told him that you had married an enormously wealthy cripple for his money and how you’ve never stopped cheating him. I told him about the men you have had. Perhaps I
