Her cousin’s eyes widened and his jaw hung open.
“You don’t mean—?”
“Precisely.” She rippled the Necklace with her hand so that it burned even more scintillatingly, and then hid its glories once more with her kerchief. “In the dungeon.”
“So,” Simon prompted, “by walking into a trap you were sure of getting the cheese.”
“Except that I am not a mouse.” She flashed him a smile.
“Yes, I knew that my father had hidden it in the dungeon. On his deathbed he told my mother exactly where. It was under a small flagstone in one corner. He put it there because he thought that the dungeon would be the one part of the Castle where no one would ever go, because most people think of dungeons as being totally outmoded and useless.” She made a wry face. “That is, most civilized people do. But nowadays the Germans have some rather oldfashioned ideas.”
“Tyranny is the oldest form of government,” Simon observed. “That it happens to be one of the newest as well, merely brings it up to date and sets us all back a few centuries.”
“But,” argued Leopold, “how did you think you were going to get out again?”
“Oh, I would have got out even if you had not come after me,” she stated airily.
“Really? And how did your clever little mind tell you you were going to accomplish that?”
She shrugged.
“I am a woman. The Kommandant there was a man.” Her sophistication had a touch of malice. “He had already made that fact quite clear to me. What is more, he was not only a man but a snob. Oh yes, I should have got out all right.”
“You would have degraded yourself and our family?” Leopold’s face was a study.
“In England they call it ‘letting down the side,’ ” Simon drawled. “That’s because everything is a sport there. But you know, you really were being a bit scatterbrained.”
Her look was defiant.
“Why? I tell you, I should have got out.”
“Yes, dear old Countess and femme fatale,” responded the Saint affably. “And Leopold and I might have got in — and stayed in. There’d be no point in our trying to seduce the Kommandant... although I must admit you never know with Prussian military types. It’s probably all that leather and boots that gets them.”
Frankie was suddenly subdued.
“I’m sorry. I never thought of that,” she said in a small voice.
“That’s what I mean,” grumbled Leopold. “You never do. think of anyone else.”
Her eyes were moist and her lips trembled. All at once she had ceased being a poised young woman and was a girl.
“You know that’s not true. Everything I did was for the sake of our family and our country.”
“In that case,” Simon put in, “it’s about time you took a day off from being the keeper of the Hapsburg Necklace.”
“What do you mean? Are you just being rude?”
“Not at all,” said the Saint. “I’m being very polite — even complimentary. You’d make a terrific woman.”
Frankie blushed warmly and was momentarily silenced. Leopold, on the other hand, was anything but at a loss for words.
“You are just making things worse,” he snapped at the Saint.
Simon’s brows lifted.
“By encouraging her to be a woman instead of a Guardian Angel? Isn’t that what you would like?”
The other was becoming irascible again.
“That is none of your business. Frankie has been incredibly foolish, but what she does in her private life is her affair, or at least only the concern of our family. We do not permit strangers to intrude into our business.”
The Saint was amused by Leopold’s turnabout.
“Perhaps, dear old chap, that’s what’s been your trouble. With a good manager, you and Frankie might make the big leagues, but on your own you’ll never sell yourselves. Puppet shows are out these days.”
Although he was smiling, there was a hint of steel in his blue eyes.
This time it was Frankie who was the peacemaker.
“Come on, you two,” she said soothingly, suddenly becoming very adult in her manner. “There’s no point in our quarrelling. We have been through too much together.” She turned to the Saint. “What do you think we are supposed to do now?”
“I’ll go and ask Anton,” he said. “Max must have given him instructions for us. Anyway, we need a good night’s sleep. I for one won’t mind bunking down here, then...”
He was interrupted by the sound of a motor. The headlights of a car raked the cabin as it came up the rutted path through the woods.
“This must be Max now,” Frankie said with relief.
The Saint looked thoughtful.
“I wonder how he knew we were back? There’s no telephone here, I presume, and smoke signals don’t work at night.”
“But naturally, he has simply come to see if we are back yet.” Leopold sounded slightly impatient.
“Hold it,” said the Saint sharply. “I don’t think it’s—”
Before he could finish his sentence the door was flung open from outside and two figures stepped into the room.
They were an incongruous pair, almost like a music hall turn: one large, one small, and both in ballooning raincoats.
“Achtung!” the small one said, and his gun lent authority to his words.
“Kommt Zeit, kommt Rat,” murmured the Saint, making a bilingual pun which he could only hope some bilingual reader would appreciate.
4
“Raise your hands, all of you,” ordered the Rat in a flat business-like voice.
They did as they were told. The Saint was definitely annoyed. Even when it is a matter of life or death, standing with one’s arms above one’s head makes a man feel undignified. The Saint did not like the feeling. On the other hand, he was sure he wouldn’t like the feeling of being dead, and just at the moment there was no other choice open to him.
Leopold’s mouth was twitching as he gazed at the two men, hatred in his eyes. Frankie was calm, but her strained white face betrayed how desperate she was.
“Which of you has the Necklace?” inquired the Rat. He looked at Frankie. “Is it you, Frau Gräfin?”
She shook her head.
“We did not get it.” Her lips were stiff.
“Well, we need not waste any more time,” said the Rat. “There is one certain way of finding out. Strip, all of you!”
Leopold’s eyes blazed as he took a step forward in spite of the gun trained unwaveringly at him.
“I will kill you for this,” he said furiously.
“You will be lucky to stay alive very much longer, Herr Graf, if you go on behaving this way.” The Rat’s tone was infinitely sinister. “But perhaps we can save us all some trouble.” He turned his gun on Frankie. Behind him the Gorilla stood with his pistol at the ready. “Come here please, Frau Gräfin.”
Frankie stepped forward haltingly. She cast her eyes around desperately, as if looking for some escape from a hopeless situation.
Suddenly the Rat reached out and tore the shawl from her shoulders, pulling the top part of her blouse with it. Frankie’s flesh gleamed like satin, and the Necklace rested on the soft cushion of her breast. For some reason, perhaps because of his heightened sensibilities, the Saint thought it looked more alive than ever.
“Ah,” approved the Rat, “that is better.” He turned to the Gorilla. “Keep them covered.”
He stepped around Frankie and unfastened the Necklace, his fingers caressing her bare shoulders as he did so. She shivered and her face expressed her repugnance. The Rat held the Necklace up so it splintered the light into a myriad different colours.