He opened the razor and stared down at the glittering blade.
“I don’t think it is necessary to threaten you, because you are clever,” he said. “After all, if you did give me away, I would have to involve you as an accessory. You wouldn’t want to go to prison, would you?”
She was suddenly so angry that she threw caution to the wind.
“Listen to me, you mad little fool!” she said furiously. “You don’t imagine you are going to get away with this horrible thing, do you?”
“I think I have told you before,” he said, his face set, “I am not mad. I am going to get away with it. Of course you have thought what you imagine is best to be done. No doubt you plan to tell father when we are out of France and persuade him to put me in a home, but I warn you, I’m not going to a home. Rather than that I will give myself up to the police and give you up too.”
“You don’t think you can be allowed to go free after what you have done?” Sophia said. “You are a mental case. You will have to have special treatment. Why, you could do this horrible thing again.”
Then suddenly his inner voice began to whisper to him.
“It would be better if she died,” the voice told him. “It would be safer. With her out of the way, no one would ever know. You can’t trust her. Sooner or later, she will tell your father. You are alone with her. It would be quite easy to arrange. All you would have to do is to stun her, take off her clothes and put her in the bath. They would think she slipped in the bath, hit her head on the taps and drowned. An accident like that so often happens. Do it now. You have time. Your father won’t be up for another half hour.”
As Jay listened to the voice, he glanced at his wrist-watch. The time was twenty minutes to one. He had the time.
“I wouldn’t ever do it again, Sophia,” he said, his voice suddenly mild. “I have got it out or my system now. But if it would satisfy you, I would be willing to go to some doctor and let him talk to me. I can understand you wouldn’t want me living with you and father any longer. I would be prepared to live alone if you would persuade father to let me have my own apartment.”
He saw her hesitate, then she said: “If you are willing to submit to a thorough examination and if you are willing to abide by the doctor’s decision, then I won’t say anything more about this.” She made a little movement with her hand. “But you must have some kind of help and treatment to get you straightened out.”
“You see?” whispered the voice. “She thinks you are mad. You can never have any safety until she is out of the way.”
Behind the shield of his dark glasses, he looked around the room for a weapon with which to stun her.
He had now no compunction about killing her. She had brought it on herself. All she thought about was herself. She hadn’t helped him because she was afraid of what would happen to him. She had helped him because she had been afraid of what would happen to her own social position and to his father’s reputation.
He must first reassure her and then, when she was off her guard...
“Well, all right, Sophia,” he said as his eyes found the weapon he was looking for. It was a heavy paperweight in silver his father carried around with him that stood on the desk. It was an ideal weapon. He would have to be careful not to hit her too hard, he told himself, but he would have to hit her hard enough to make her unconscious. “I suppose I do want straightening out, as you put it. In fact, it would be a relief to have someone to talk confidentially to and I would welcome living away from father. Do you think you could persuade him to let me have a place of my own?”
“I think so.”
He wished she was a little more relaxed. It was disconcerting to see how closely she was watching him. She was, of course, extremely sensitive to atmosphere. Surely she didn’t guess what was going on in his mind?
It mustn’t be bungled, he thought. He could hear footsteps and voices as people passed the door of the suite, going to their rooms. She mustn’t have a chance to scream.
“So if I agree to those conditions, Sophia,” he said, “then you won’t give me away?”
She got to her feet and put the scarcely touched brandy on the table.
“I’m tired now, Jay. We’ll talk about this to-morrow. I’m going to bed.”
He got up casually and strolled over to the desk.
“You haven’t finished your drink,” he said, his fingers closing over the paperweight.
“I don’t want it. Good night, Jay.”
He glanced at her.
She had reached her bedroom door.
She must be nervous, he thought. She hasn’t once turned her back on me.
“I’m sorry about all this, Sophia,” he said. He began to move slowly across the room towards her, the paperweight held down by his side, out of sight. “I wish I hadn’t done it now. At the time it seemed important. I’ll get straightened out. I’m relying on you to help me.”
He felt his anger rising against her as she didn’t react in any way to this.
She stood in the doorway of her bedroom, watching him, her expression alert.
“Good night, Jay,” she said and before he could reach her, she stepped into the room and abruptly closed the door in his face. He heard the key turn in the lock.
For a second or two he remained motionless, then he moved silently to the door leading to the outside corridor and turned the key. Would she forget to lock the door between her room and his father’s room?
Moving softly, he crossed the lounge and opened the door into his father’s room. Leaving the door open so he could see where he was going, he crossed the room to the door that led into Sophia’s room. He listened, his head against the door panel. He could hear Sophia moving about in the inner room. He looked at his watch: the time was now ten minutes to one. His margin of safety was running out.
He put his hand on the door-handle and began to turn it very slowly. It seemed to take a long time before the handle fully turned.
Had she locked this door?
He pulled gently and as he felt the door move towards him, he stopped pulling and his lips curled into a triumphant grin.
Again he listened.
He heard Sophia clear her throat and then put something down on the dressing table.
He eased the door open a crack, his right hand gripping the paperweight so tightly his knuckles turned white.
He could see into the room now.
Sophia had taken off her evening dress and was peeling off her stockings.
Jay measured the distance between them. It was too great. She would have time to start to her feet and scream before he could reach her.
He watched her slip on a wrap, then undo her suspender belt and toss it on a chair, then she walked into the bathroom.
He heard the bath water running.
Better wait for her to get into the bath, he thought. He remembered she would be sitting with her back to the door once she was in the bath.
All he would have to do then was to move in silently and hit her before she even knew he was in there.
He waited, his breathing fast and hard, his heart thumping. He glanced at his watch. It was now three minutes to one. The margin of safety was narrowing.
He stiffened when he heard the bath water stop running and then he heard the unmistakable sound of splashing.
She must be in the bath!
His lips moved into his meaningless smile as he opened the door and moved silently across the bedroom to the bathroom door.
He reached for the handle, turned it and pushed gently.
The door swung silently open.
III
Never before in the sordid history of the Beau Rivage hotel had the hotel been so quiet and dark as when Inspector Devereaux drove up in his car.
A small crowd stood outside the entrance, held back by three sweating gendarmes.
Guidet stood just inside the dark entrance and came across the pavement to meet Devereaux.