He glanced up as the door opened and Sture moved forward, bending the least amount at the waist professionally. The count came to his feet at once as Ruth entered. He felt a small flush of pleasure; she was even more beautiful than he remembered. He started forward, both hands outstretched; and then paused, his smile tightening a bit. A man had entered behind her, obviously accompanying her, a rather handsome man in a somewhat coarse fashion, the count thought, but somehow slightly familiar. But Count Lindgren had not been a diplomat for nothing. His slight frown was instantly arrested, replaced by a brilliant smile. He took Ruth’s hand, and bending over it, kissed it. Then, straightening up, he looked at the intruder.
“Ruth, it’s a very great pleasure. Who is your friend?”
“Hello, Axel. It’s good to see you again. I want you to meet Dr. Gregor Kovpak. He’ll lunch with us.” She turned to Gregor. “Darling, this is Count Lindgren I’ve been telling you about.”
The two men shook hands, eyeing each other a bit warily. Darling, eh? Lindgren thought, and then dismissed it. Today everyone called everyone else darling; it meant little. Why did she feel it necessary to call me darling in front of this stranger? Gregor thought. Was she advising him that any relationship they had had in the past was no longer operative?
“A pleasure you could join us, Dr. Kovpak,” Lindgren said heartily, and turned to Sture, who was watching with a graven face although the count suspected there was a derisive smile hidden somewhere behind the emotionless eyes. “You will set another place, please, Sture.”
He led the way to the table, waited until Ruth had taken her place in the booth and Gregor had sat down beside her, and then seated himself across from them. He smiled brightly at the two of them; Axel Lindgren was a consummate actor. “Well, this is a real pleasure! I’ve heard much of you and all you’ve done at the Hermitage, Dr. Kovpak, and I’m quite impressed. On your way home to Leningrad after London, I imagine?”
“In a way,” Kovpak said noncommittally, and wondered just how close this handsome but slightly forbidding man had been to Ruth McVeigh.
“It’s an honor to have you as my guest for lunch. And Ruth, of course, is an old friend. A very old, dear, and close friend.”
Ruth McVeigh smiled slightly. She knew Axel Lindgren very well.
“My dear Axel,” she said gently, resolved to put this issue to rest at once. “You and I are old friends and I hope we always will be, but that is all we ever were. Gregor and I are lovers. We are in love.”
“Ah, the honesty of young people these days! May I congratulate you both.” The count’s beaming expression remained, but he suddenly determined that if possible neither the Hermitage nor the Metropolitan would ever see the Schliemann collection if only for the insult to his pride. And then the count mentally chided himself. He was being stupid and he hated stupidity, especially in himself. Nobody had insulted him. And as for Ruth McVeigh, with the money he would soon have, possibly even from one of the two facing him, he could surround himself with women as beautiful, as well as more appreciative. It was foolish to allow emotion to interfere with business. Instead of angling to get Ruth McVeigh in bed, the luncheon should be used for the purpose of eliciting information. After all, he had never had the opportunity to talk the matter over with one, if not two, of the museums who would actually be bidding in the auction, and it should be most interesting. He waited while Sture placed the glistening flowers on the table and withdrew, and then went on. “I’m very glad you called me and that I have this chance to talk with you both,” he said earnestly. “I’ve read about the London conference, of course, but the Danish newspapers were rather vague as to the exact details as to what happened. Possibly one of you could—?”
Ruth smiled, but it was a sad smile. “The less said about the London conference, Axel, the better. About all that really came out of it that was even faintly useful, was that the question of legal ownership of the treasure was certainly put in doubt.”
Lindgren frowned. “But do you believe that would make any difference as far as this so-called ‘Auction of the Century’ is concerned?”
“Without a doubt,” Ruth said positively. “One result is that there undoubtedly will be more bidders than the ones who were originally asked to participate in the auction. And that will mean that the price will undoubtedly go very high.”
Count Lindgren looked properly sympathetic. “That’s too bad! Understandably this cannot have been very welcome news to the Metropolitan.” He glanced at Kovpak. “Or the Hermitage, if they should bid. Or to anyone else.”
“It isn’t. If we could have gotten some co-operation from those... those... people in London—!” Ruth seemed to realize she was flogging a dead horse. “Axel—”
“Yes?” Count Lindgren looked up as Sture appeared with menus. “If you will permit me to order for us all?” There was general acceptance of this; Count Lindgren gave the orders and turned back to his table companions. “You were saying?”
Ruth leaned a bit closer to him, unconsciously dropping her voice. “Axel, suppose I were to tell you I have a very good idea of where the treasure — the Schliemann gold — might very well be.”
“What!” Count Lindgren recovered instantly, frowning in a slightly skeptical manner, although his heart was beating much faster. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I have a theory as to what happened to it. It never reached Russia in 1945. I think that can be proven. Just how is unimportant at the moment. But I think it ended up in Denmark, and with your help I think I can prove it.”
“With my help?” Lindgren’s mind was racing. Had Nordberg told him a bunch of lies as to how he had come upon the treasure? It was very possible. Nordberg certainly didn’t look the sort to put up any great sum of money for anything. He didn’t look as if he had ever had any great sum of money. And why should anyone stealing the treasure from the Hermitage and then defecting, turn to an obscure professor in Copenhagen to rid himself of the collection? He looked at Ruth, his face indicating nothing but polite curiosity. “How with my help?”
Ruth was prevented from answering by the arrival of their food. They gave the excellent cuisine the homage it deserved by refraining from any serious conversation, although Count Lindgren’s brain was churning. It was not possible! Ruth had always been known for quick decisions and for outlandish conjectures, and this “theory” of hers had to be another similar case. Certainly Kovpak would know if she was only imagining things, and equally certainly Kovpak would have every reason to go along with any crazy idea of hers, since it permitted him to stay with her and make love with her and enjoy her in all the ways the count was sure the Russian was enjoying her.
But — on the other hand — what if she was on to something, something that could prove dangerous to him? What if Nordberg had been lying as to how he had gotten his hands on the treasure? Suppose he had gotten it in a manner that left a trail that could be picked up, and that now it had been picked up? And if that were the case the trail might not stop at Nordberg but could lead to him. Although the trail could be cut at Nordberg. Unless, of course, Nordberg had left some indication of where the treasure was. In that case, much as he admired dear Ruth and respected the good Doctor Kovpak, something would have to be done about them, and Count Axel Lindgren was not a man to have the slightest compunction in handling the situation.