Easing the position of his head from time to time, but still half comatose, Gregory let matters take their course. For what seemed to him an endless time, the machine continued to plough through knee deep water, then it was thrust for some way up a slope on to a pavement, into a glare of light and brought to a halt. As the giant lifted Gregory from it, he saw that they were at the entrance to the Copacabana Palace.
Now, for the first time, he could see his rescuer clearly. He was a splendid specimen of manhood. Young, good looking, with copper coloured skin, but features more European than native; and from his head, which had appeared so huge in the semi darkness, rose a four inch deep halo of black hair.
`Then I wasn't dreaming,' Gregory muttered. `You ready are a giant.'
The other grinned, showing two perfect rows of strong white teeth. `I am six foot five. But that is nothing exceptional in my country. I have a cousin who is six foot seven. It was quite a struggle to get you home, but here we are.'
'I owe you my life,' Gregory said gravely. `I can never thank you enough. Let's get inside… We could both do with a drink.'
As he spoke, his companion let go his arm to prop the motor cycle alongside the hotel entrance. No longer supported, Gregory lurched, came down on his injured foot, lost his balance and fell forward, striking his head heavily against the door. Stars and circles flashed before his eyes and he again passed out.
When he regained consciousness he was up in his room, being undressed by one of the night porters and an under manager. As they got him into bed, he enquired for his rescuer. The under manger shook his head
"E left without giving 'is name. 'E said only that 'e was sorry about your fall, but 'e did not realise you were so weak. What a fine young man. A South Sea Islander. We do not often see such in Rio. Lie still now, sir, please, for a few minutes. I 'ave telephone the 'otel doctor but the flood makes it impossible for him to come; so I appeal to doctor who is a guest here. An American. 'E is dressing and will be 'ere soon.'
Five minutes later, a tall, lean American arrived and took charge. Having examined Gregory's ankle, he said that it was not broken but very badly sprained and it would be some days before he was able to get about again. By the time he had finished dressing it, the under manager brought Gregory a double rum on the rocks that he had ordered and with many expressions of sympathy, they left him.
As soon as they had gone, he put a call through to Manon. On hearing his voice, she gave vent, in her relief at knowing him to be safely back, to a spate of French, interlarded with many endearments. Then he told her of his hairsbreadth escape and how it had come about that the Macumba priest had seen him in his vision as `dead in a ditch'. She wanted to come to him at once; but he said that he badly needed sleep,., and it was agreed that she should pay him a visit at ten o'clock the following morning.
When he awoke, apart from some soreness in the lungs, he had fully recovered from his night's ordeal; but his ankle proved a severe handicap in getting to the bathroom and he managed it only with the aid of a chair, which he alternately leant on and pushed in front of him. Back in bed, he telephoned the Wellesleys. Hugo had already set off on an attempt to get to his office in the Avenida Presidente Vargas, so it was to Patricia that Gregory related his adventure. She wanted to bring him books to read while he was laid up, but a glance out of the window had shown him that the rain was still descending in a solid curtain, so the floods must be as bad as ever; and he persuaded her to put off her visit, anyhow until the following day.
Manon had had the same thought about reading matter; for she arrived with an armful of magazines and three French novels, perched herself on the edge of his bed, embraced him with Gallic warmth, then made him tell her every detail of his near drowning and rescue.
After a while she told him that she was due to fly up to Mexico, and thence home, on the following day; but many landslides had been reported and she was wondering if she would be able to get out to the airport.
Gregory said that, even if the road out to the international airport was blocked, she should be able to get a plane to it from the local airport on the waterfront near the city centre. Then he went on to say how distressed he was to think that their romance must end so soon, and he asked whether she could not possibly postpone her departure.
Screwing her full lips into a grimace, she replied, `Cheri, I have fallen for you completely, so I would like nothing better. But, alas, it is a question of money. I brought with me only as much as I thought I would need, and to get a further grant of currency from Fiji would take a week at least.'
Patting her hand, Gregory smiled and said, `Then, my sweet, don't give it another thought. You must stay on as my guest.'
Manon made a pretence of demurring; but she needed no great pressing, then accepted with becoming grace. Meanwhile, she had been thinking: `How right I was to try it on. Now I won't have to sell one of my rings. And the danger to him is past, thank God. His ankle is a nuisance: but no, perhaps it is all for the best. While he is cooped up here I'll be able to find out all his likes and dislikes, and he'll have no chance to become interested in another woman. Oh, if only I can hook him.'
Her belief that she would have Gregory to herself for several days proved correct. When the American doctor paid him a visit he said that his patient would do far better to remain in bed, or at least in his room, with his foot up, rather than try to hobble about on crutches even if a pair could have been procured and that would have been far from easy, as few shops other than those supplying food had opened for business that morning.
For his part, Gregory was happy to accept Manon's administrations. It was much more fun to have a pretty woman support him while he shaved and help him have a bath, than to call on the services of a valet. Apart from the siesta hours and at night, when. Manon returned to her own room, she never left him. They had their meals sent up, swopped stories, laughed and made love, hardly noticing the rain which continued mercilessly as though it meant never to stop.
He had noticed that she wore several rings and that one, on the index finger of her left hand, was an enormous aquamarine, in an old fashioned setting of gold filigree work. On the second morning of the deluge she was sitting on the edge of his bed, enjoying a pre lunch glass of champagne with him, when he asked her where she had found the ring.
`Ah ' she laughed. `That is my Borgia ring and if you cease to love me I shall make use of it; then you will die in a fit.'
For a moment he thought she was joking about the ring's containing poison; but, taking it between the first finger and thumb of her right hand, she pressed a secret spring in the filigree work. The stone slid back, revealing a hollow cavity. In it there lay a small, round pill.
Closing the ring again, she smiled at him. 'Georges, my late husband, gave it to me at the time when the troubles in Algeria became really serious…As I told you the other day, we lived for many months on his estate far up country. Several times the house was attacked and if those devils of Arabs had overcome our people things would have gone ill with me. It is all very well for cynical people to say that if a woman cannot escape being raped she should “lie back and enjoy it”, but after the first two or three times in quick succession there can be no more pleasure in it. Soon afterwards, I am told, it becomes agonising and after about twenty men have had a woman one after the other, she dies from it. As I was the only white woman there, you can be certain that every one of those brutes would have demanded his turn with me, and some more than once. That is why Georges bought the ring for me and made me promise to swallow the pill in it if I was captured. The pill is cyanide of potassium and would have killed me instantly.'