“Yes, but not where it is hidden.” She gave him a sideways look. “I shan’t even tell you that.”
“How am I supposed to get it for you then? Just play Hunt the Necklace all over Schloss Este and hope I’ll come across it?”
“No,” she replied calmly. “You are taking me with you.”
The Saint shook his head.
“So you’ve said before. But I’m not, you know. I always travel light. I never take any excess baggage if I can help it.”
Her eyes laughed back at him. “Touché, but we’ll see who wins, you or me. I might try by myself. Then, if I fail, I can always fall back on you.”
“You can fall back on me anytime, darling.” replied the Saint gallantly. “But what has Max done for you so far?”
“He has put his organisation at my disposal, and found out things about the surroundings of Schloss Este that even I did not know. Even now, he is getting us false papers, which I would never know how to get. And he has men who would commit any crime that is necessary, at his orders — or for his money.”
“What does he think he will get out of it, or shouldn’t one ask?”
“When the Monarchy is restored he will be made a real baron. I shall see to it.”
The Saint shrugged.
“I suppose that makes it all worth while.”
“Of course. His grandchildren will even be accepted into the aristocracy.”
“If he ever gets around to having any. But you mean he himself wouldn’t be accepted?”
“Certainly not. He is a tradesman by birth.”
“I see. When is a baron not a baron? When he isn’t two generations removed from vulgar trade. And how did Leopold get in on the act?”
“Because he is my second cousin, and I have known him since childhood and can trust him completely. That is something worthwhile.”
“Yes, definitely. He belongs all right. But whether or not that fact makes him a good Necklace-getter-backer is something else.”
“He is young and foolish sometimes, but he is not a fool. He is also a noted shot.”
“That might certainly come in handy,” said the Saint. “Actually, he seems a nice enough lad, even though I don’t think he’s crazy about me. Of course, he’s in love with you, as you well know.”
Frankie sighed dramatically.
“Ach, it is such a nuisance. But men can get so silly!”
“Sometimes it’s fun to be silly,” said the Saint.
She looked at him provocatively from beneath her long lashes. “Are you ever silly, Simon?”
This was the edge of the thin ice that he still hoped to skate around.
He shook his head.
“Never. I often lose my heart, but never my head.”
He blew her a kiss with the tips of his fingers. She caught it, pressed it to her lips and blew him one back. The Saint pretended to catch it and put it in his pocket.
“I’ll keep it for bedtime,” he said. “It’ll go well with my Ovaltine.”
It was a happy excursion, and they were as far removed from the realities of Nazi-occupied Austria as was Johann Strauss — and indeed most of the Austrians at that time.
When they got back to Schloss Duppelstein late in the afternoon, they were met by Leopold who informed them stiffly that Max was waiting to show them the stables.
“Furchtbar!” exclaimed Frankie. “I quite forgot to tell you, Simon. He wants to show us his prize stallion. It is called Neville Chamberlain because it’s by Aeroplane out of Munich. You see it is a joke.”
“It might have been more suitable to call him Lloyd George,” Simon remarked.
“Lloyd George? What did he have to do with Munich?”
“Nothing at all,” said the Saint, “but he was much more the stallion type.”
She shook her head in puzzlement.
“I do not understand. You too are making a joke, yes?”
“You’re too young to explain it to,” Simon told her. “But come along.” He pointed to where Leopold was already striding in the direction of the stables. “He’ll be your second cousin once removed if he has a stroke.”
Max Annellatt was watching the stallion being led around a tanbark ring by a stable-boy.
“I shall have the papers after lunch tomorrow,” he said. “Also the clothes you wanted — it was easy to buy them but now they are being made to look not so clean and new. My horse is beautiful isn’t he?”
“He is indeed,” Simon said unreservedly.
“Tomorrow morning you must take him for a ride.”
“If Frankie will go with me.”
“I will kill you if you try to leave me behind,” she said.
Leopold scowled, but for once made no protest, and Simon wondered if Max had been giving him some avuncular advice about how not to cope with a young woman’s provocation to the rivalries of courtship.
In spite of the boy’s sulkiness and juvenile jealousies, he liked Leopold and felt considerable sympathy for him. After all, the young man was up against the ruthlessness of womankind and in particular the ruthlessness of Frankie, who, Simon judged, combined the self-centredness of aristocracy with a singleness of purpose which in itself did not allow much room for the consideration of others. Whatever Frankie wanted to do, she did; whatever she wanted to get, she got. It was not that she lacked feeling, but she used people for her own purposes and indeed considered that most people had been created to be used by her.
She was certainly, by her own admission, using Max; but Simon suspected that the reverse was also true. Certainly Annellatt was no fool, and in his way he was certainly as ruthless as Frankie. If it came to a clash of wills and ambitions, Simon wondered which one would win. It might be amusing to find out.
The following afternoon, to Simon’s surprise, Leopold asked him if he would like to do a little Auerhahn shooting. The invitation was gruffly tendered, but Simon understood that he was making an effort to be pleasant. After all, except for his unfounded jealousy, there was no reason for him to dislike Simon. The Saint accepted because he wanted to find out more about Leopold’s character, not because he wanted to shoot Auerhahn, a sport he particularly disapproved of because of the peculiar and particular way it was done. The birds could only be shot when they were singing their love songs, at which time the males perched in the branches of trees and sang with their eyes closed. Simon had always thought it was really not quite cricket to sneak up on a lover thus engaged and do him in. After all, he would be seriously annoyed himself if someone tried such a dirty trick on him. Not that he ever sang with his eyes closed, or even open for that matter, while he was making love.
They didn’t get any Auerhahn. Simon had guessed that they wouldn’t, and that the invitation had merely been a friendly overture, because the birds mate in the spring and not in the autumn. Nevertheless, they had a pleasant walk in the woods and Leopold turned out to be a surprisingly amusing companion when he was not being tormented by his love for Frankie. At one point he even entertained Simon with a hilarious imitation of Max talking to Thai.
It was dusk when they returned to the Schloss. They found Annellatt and Anton in the State Drawing-room. It was immediately apparent that something was wrong from the expressions on their faces.
“Thank God you are back,” groaned Max. “The worst has happened!”
“Hitler and Stalin have been jointly awarded the Nobel Peace Prize,” suggested the Saint; but his flippancy was brittle and unsmiling.
Annellatt waved his hands wildly.
“This is serious, Simon. Frankie has gone!”
3
Leopold stopped as if he had been struck. His face was deathly pale.