"About fifteen feet. Why would I have to jump too?" In desperation, she slipped her heel out of the shoe, kicked again, and heard a clatter. "The devil!" exclaimed Van Loon. In a moment he was beside her, with her shoe in his hand. "Is something the matter with you, Miss Clitter-house?" he asked.
"No, I'm all right. Thank you, Hendrik. " She felt Stone's grip loosen as she leaned to put the shoe on. "We were talking about dance steps, and I suppose I got carried away."
She turned with Van Loon, and Stone followed them back to the table.
The next morning after breakfast, Zwingli said, "Miss Clitterhouse tells me that you threatened to throw her out of the window. In your opinion, was that a violation of your parole?"
"No, because I didn't do it."
Zwingli looked at him. "But you might have?"
"No, it was just a bluff."
"Mr. Stone, I believe you, but don't you think you harmed Miss Clitterhouse when you frightened her?"
"I don't think she was that frightened."
Zwingli sighed. "You are making this very difficult, Mr. Stone."
"Why do you expect it to be easy?"
Zwingli looked at him curiously. "Mr. Stone, I don't know if you realize how serious a matter this is. You have not violated the terms of your parole in a strict sense, but you are doing your best to make things uncomfortable for everybody here. I must tell you, that if this continues, I may have no choice but to confine you to your stateroom."
Stone said, "And you wouldn't like that, huh?"
"No, it would be a nuisance, and I would miss your company."
"All right, here's another idea. Play me ten games of piquet. If I win, you give me back my ring and set me down wherever I want. If you win, I stay here and behave myself as long as you say."
Zwingli sat back and folded his hands. "An interesting idea. Do you think your game is good enough?"
"It will be."
"I see." Zwingli rose. ''I'll have to think about it, Mr. Stone. I'll give you my answer tomorrow."
In the afternoon Clitterhouse was doing laps in the pool while Stone sat and watched her. She swam over, clung to the edge, and looked at him through the plastic. "Aren't you coming in?" she called.
"No, thanks."
"Anyone can learn to swim. I'll teach you. Go on, get your trunks."
After a moment he rose. "Okay. "
When he came back, she swam to the shallow end and led him down the steps. "Now just lie down here on your back, where you can feel the bottom with your hands. All right?"
"Yeah."
"And now close your eyes and let yourself relax. Spread your arms and legs. You're floating, aren't you?"
"I guess, a little bit."
"That shows your body is buoyant. You float naturally; some people don't, they sink. Now keep your eyes closed, stay relaxed." She put her hand under his chin and gently pulled him toward deeper water. "Stay relaxed, don't tense up. That's good." When she could no longer touch the bottom, she let go, scooped up water in her hand and dumped it on his face.
His whole body convulsed; he coughed, strangled, and sank. She watched him as he came up thrashing and went under once more; then she swam around him, got him under the chin again, and tugged him back to shallow water.
When he felt the end of the stair rail under his hand, he grasped it as if he were still drowning. He rolled over, got one hand under him, and stayed there on his knees, coughing and retching. She waited until he had got his breath, then leaned over and said, "That was for the business in the window, Mr. Stone. Next time I'll do something you really won't like."
She went back through the flap, dried herself, and sat down in the deck chair. Stone came out looking rather sick. He managed to grin at her. "Okay, we're even."
"Yes, we are. And I'll really teach you to swim if you like."
"No, thanks." He walked past her with dignity and went into his room.
In the middle of the night she went into the pool area and opened the flap. Stone was there, lying on his back in the shallow water. She went down and put her hand on his face under the water, to see if he was alive. One eye opened cold and swelling, and kissed her palm.
She leaped back and sat up trembling. She was in her own room, it was three o'clock in the morning, there was nothing wrong. But she put on a robe, turned all the lights on, went down to the galley and made a pot of coffee, and sat up until five.
In the morning Stone said to Zwingli, "Well, have you thought about my proposition?"
"Yes, I have, Mr. Stone. For my peace of mind, I am willing to take a little risk. Not ten games-that is too short. But twenty thousand points, winner take all. Do you agree?"
"Twenty thousand! That'll take six months!"
"No, not so long. I will play one game every afternoon if I can, but sometimes business may prevent, or I may become ill. That is my best offer, Mr. Stone."
After a moment he said, "Okay, you're on. Can we start this afternoon?"
"Certainly."
During most of the winter the Bayern cruised the Mediterranean coast, from Spain to Sardinia and Sicily, then Greece, Turkey, Egypt, Libya, Algeria and Morocco. Once they spent the day crossing the northern edge of the Sahara, where they could see nothing but serried dunes from one horizon to the other, like the lines in a fingertip under a magnifying glass.
In early March Zwingli said, "Mr. Stone, I now have nineteen thousand nine hundred and ten points, and you have nineteen thousand five hundred and eleven. Shall we declare the tournament over?"
"No, let's play it out."
Stone looked glum as Zwingli added up the score again. "Yours is nineteen thousand five hundred and eleven, and mine is twenty thousand and ten. Do you confirm the score?"
"Yeah. Congratulations."
"Mr. Stone," Zwingli said, putting his stylus away, "I have enjoyed our tournament. Shall we have another?"
Stone looked incredulous. "On the same terms?"
"Yes, exactly the same."
Stone impulsively put out his hand, then drew it back. "Sorry. Yeah, that would be swell. Thanks, Mr. Zwingli."
"My pleasure, Mr. Stone."
During the spring and summer, the Bayern cruised the northern parts of Europe: first France and the Netherlands, then Denmark, Norway, and Sweden. When the second tournament drew to a close, they were over the Gulf of Bothnia.
The result of the second tournament was the same as that of the first. On the tenth of July, Zwingli added up the scores and said, "Well, Mr. Stone, will you keep your bargain?"
Stone's face was unreadable. After a moment he said, "Yeah."
"Mr. Stone, in that case I release you from it. You are free to go."
He looked dumbfounded. "Do you mean it?"
"Yes. So much time has passed that I don't think you can do very much harm now. Where would you like to be set down?"
"Do we have to go back to Beijing?"
"No, the ring is here. You will have it when you leave."
"Well, then, I guess Helsinki would be the nearest."
"Helsinki it shall be. May I hope that there are no hard feelings?"
Stone looked at him soberly. "I guess you did what you thought you had to."
"And you did also."
"But if you're wrong, a lot of people are going to wind up dead."
"And if you are wrong, the same. So we shall have to wait and see."
The passenger came down the ramp at Holkeri, walked clear of the zeppelin and stood looking up. The rotors on the belly of the airship began to spin; the nose clamp opened, and the ship rose gently into the air. When it was about two hundred feet up, one of the ground crew thought he saw a pale glow inside the gasbag. He turned to his neighbor and pointed, but all he had time to say was, "Look there!"