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Page 80
"Can you contrive to have Johann out of the house between 10 and 12:30
to-morrow morning?"
"Yes, I can send him to Cleves with a note."
"The maids too?"
"Yes, the maids too."
"Good. Now will you do one thing more--the hardest of all? I want you
to send a message to Desmond. Can you arrange it?"
"Tell me what your message is, and I may be able to answer you."
"I want you to tell him that he must at all costs contrive to keep
Grundt from going to that shoot to-morrow ... at any rate between ten
and twelve. He must manage to let Grundt believe that he is going to
tell him where Grundt may find what he is after ... but he must keep him
in suspense during those hours."
"And after?"
"There will be no after," I said.
"I will see that Des gets your message," Monica replied, "for I will
take it myself."
"No, Monica," I said, "I don't want..."
"Francis," ...she spoke almost in a whisper ... "my life in this country
is over," ... and she touched her widow's weeds.... "Karl was killed at
Predeal three weeks ago.... You know as well as I do that I am involved
in this affair as much as you and Des ... and I will share the risk if
only you will take me away with you ... that is if you ..." She
faltered.
I heard the chairs scrape in the corner of the hall where the
dinner-party was breaking up.
"The Frau Gr�fin has only to command," I said. "The Frau Gr�fin knows I
have been waiting for years...."
Clubfoot was crossing towards the open door.
"... I never expected to find the Frau Gr�fin so gracious.... I had
never hoped that the Frau Gr�fin would be willing to do so much for
me ... the Frau Gr�fin has made me very happy."
Clubfoot stood on the threshold and listened to my halting speech.
"You can bring your things in when you come to-morrow ..." Monica said.
"The keeper will tell you what time you must be here."
Then she dismissed me, but as I went I heard her say:
"Herr Doktor! Can I have a word with you?"
CHAPTER XVIII
I GO ON WITH THE STORY
I was in the billiard-room of the Castle, a dusty place, obviously
little used, for it smelt of damp. A fire was burning in the grate,
however, and on a table in the corner, which was littered with papers,
stood a dispatch box.
Clubfoot wore a dinner-coat and, as he laughed, his white expanse of
shirt-front heaved to the shaking of his deep chest. For a moment,
however, I had little thought of him or the ugly-looking Browning he
held in his fist. My ears were strained for any sound that might betray
Francis' presence in the garden. But all remained silent as the grave.
Clubfoot, still chuckling audibly, walked over to me. I thought he was
going to shoot me, he came so straight and so fast, but it was only to
get behind me and shut the door, driving me, as he did so, farther into
the room.
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