`Thanks,' Christopher gasped, `thanks,' and running up the steps he slipped noiselessly over the top of the wall into the garden.
Lovelace turned and scrambled up the hill. He found Valerie leaning against the car.
`Why did you come?' he panted. 'Why the devil couldn't you keep out of this?'
'How how could I leave him to come alone?' she whispered. Then he realised that she had given way at last and was weeping unrestrainedly.
He put his arm round her shoulders, muttering little phrases of comfort and encouragement as he fought to regain his breath. Her sobbing became a little less passionate. It faded to a whisper of quick drawn gasps. All his anger with her for adding to his responsibilities by appearing on the scene had evaporated. She was in love with Christopher, that insane or was he terribly sane? idealist who was now struggling through the bushes towards the house. Lovelace's heart ached for her, but he could do nothing; only hold her closer and watch the section of the moonlit garden that he could see across the wall.
`Anthony, I'm frightened,' she gasped suddenly. `I wish I wish I hadn't come.'
She had never before called him by his first name. `I wish to God I'd succeeded in persuading you not to,' he said huskily.
`You're all against this, really, aren't you? It may be justice in the sight of God as Christopher says but actually its horrible to think about.'
`Yes,' he said slowly, `and whatever misery Zirrif may be plotting to bring on the world, he seems a decent sort. He was darned decent to me when I shammed illness so that I could fix that rope for Christopher to get into the house. I've never hated anything quite so much as giving him this chance tonight.'
`Oh, Anthony, Anthony, I feel just the same but what else could we do?' She suddenly pressed against him and he held her tighter yet while her shoulders shook with a fresh burst of sobs.
`I ought to have gone in with him, although I never promised that,' he muttered. `He's such a boy. I had half a mind to, but well, as you turned up I felt I couldn't leave you in case things go wrong.'
`I'm glad I came, then after all. This isn't your show. He must see it through himself . . .' She broke off suddenly. `Look! There he is, going up the rope. He's nearly reached the window.'
Christopher was swarming up the double rope hand over hand. Another moment and he gripped the window sill. Cautiously he raised his head. The moon gave sufficient light for him to see that the room was empty. Heaving himself up, he wormed his way over.
Once inside the house he paused only long enough to get his pistol out of his pocket. He gripped the butt firmly in his right hand and advanced on tiptoe his left hand outstretched to grasp the shadowy protuberance of the door knob. It turned noiselessly under his touch; the door swung open and he stepped cautiously through it. From the plan of the house he knew that he was now in the small hallway. The valet's room must be opposite him, a few paces away, and Zarrif’s bedroom to his left. The moonlight which silvered the bathroom behind him hardly penetrated sufficiently to lessen the close, heavy darkness. The gloom was only broken by a thin pale ribbon of light on the floor to the right; indicating the door of the room in which Lovelace had faced the grey, elderly Armenian less than a quarter of an hour before. Christopher passed his tongue over his dry lips and tried to still his breathing. It sounded like a rushing wind, which must alarm the household if he could not control it, as he stood there with the sweat streaming down his forehead. Nerving himself for the final effort, he ran his finger tips lightly down the door until he found the handle, gave it a sudden twist, and flung it open.
Zirrif was seated quietly writing at his desk. As Christopher entered he swung round; his hand shot out towards his desk bell; but Christopher was quicker, and Zirrif withdrew his arm at the whispered caution when he saw the big black pistol, with its thick attachment like a silencer, pointed at his head.
`What do you want?' he challenged huskily, coming to his feet. `What do you want?'
`Your life!' whispered Christopher, his black eyes blazing in his thin, dead white face. He stepped forward and thrust his weapon to within a yard of Zirrif 's mouth. `You've forfeited it by your proved attempts to promote mass murder. I am a Miller of God, sent to execute justice upon you.'
For a second Paxito Zarrif’s green eyes flickered towards his bell again; but now it was beyond his reach. He drew himself up and his voice held a contemptuous ring as he answered: `I have had a long life and an interesting one. Shoot, then, if you wish assassin!'
8
Love and loyalties
The car sped at a furious pace back down the hill towards Athens.
`I couldn't do it,' Christopher sobbed, his head on Valerie's breast. 'I couldn't do it! He was an old man and quite defenseless. He stood there waiting for me to kill him and my courage failed me.'
'Darling ! She sought to comfort him as they rocked together in the back of the car over the bumpy road. 'I understand. Please, please, don't give way so. I think I'm glad.'
`Glad? But you don't understand!' he exclaimed angrily. `Paxito Zirrif deserved death. The Millers of God appointed me to be his executioner, and Lovelace took a big risk to give me a perfect opportunity. Then, just because I found Zirrif to be frail and old, and he stood up to me, I chucked my hand in and ran away.'
Lovelace, in the driver's seat, threw a quick glance over his shoulder. The alarm gongs were still ringing in his ears and he expected to see a car crammed with Zarrif’s gunmen hot on their trail; but only the empty silver road showed bright in the moonlight behind them. 'Didn't you even take the precaution of knocking him out?' he asked curtly.
'No,' Christopher admitted shamefacedly, 'as I hadn't the heart to kill him I just bolted and skedaddled down the rope from the window. Directly I turned my back he must have roused the house. I was lucky to get over the wall and reach you so quickly.'
'Have you got the rope, or did you leave it dangling?' Lovelace shot out as he jammed down the accelerator.
Christopher sat up. `I remembered what you told me about pulling one end of it instinctively, I think, and it came running dawn all over me. It's here in the car. I left the short one over the wall, though.'
`That doesn't matter. I don't know that anything does now; but at all events they won't know how you got into the house. You might have been hiding in his bedroom for hours.'
As they swerved round the corner into the main road Lovelace looked back again. No car was following. Evidently Paxito Zirrif was satisfied to have got rid of his murderous visitor without ordering his henchmen to give chase. Those tense moments when the alarm bells had shrilled out their warning and Christopher was scrambling breathlessly up the hill towards the car were still fresh in his memory, but he eased the car down as they came into the suburban traffic.
When they reached the heart of the city he pulled up on a corner two hundred yards from their hotel.
`You'd better get out here, Christopher,' he said. `I know you don't care about drink in the ordinary way, but if you could manage a nightcap, make it a stiff one and get to bed. I'll be back later when I've returned this hired car but first I'll take Valerie out to the airport in it.'
`Good night, darling.' Valerie kissed her fiancé again before he scrambled out.
Christopher came round to the front of the car. His dark eyes looked larger than ever and his face paler as he said hesitantly: `Good night, Lovelace. I'm so sorry I let you down.'