aJust a tap on your head, Mr. Grenville,a Bernie said, smiling evilly. aYou wonat feel much. Jacques is an expert. Maybe a little sore later, but it is worth a try.a Grenville backed away, while Archer, shocked, hid his face in his hands.

Then Grenville said hoa.r.s.ely, aWait! Listen to me! I can tell you how you can get fifteen million dollars from her! I know her - you donat! Fifteen million, and it is certain money!a Bernie lifted his hand, stopping Segetti as he moved towards Grenville.

aShe hates violence,a Grenville said, sweat running down his face. aOur mistake was sending Archer to talk to her. You should have gone. You would have convinced her, but it is now too late to use me as a lever, but I have thought of another lever, but you will have to talk to her.a Bernie nodded.

aOkay. I will talk to heraabout what?a Archer was staring at Grenville. Belmont, fingering his knife, and Segetti, tapping the palm of his hand with his cosh, were also staring at Grenville.

aWe should have thought of this before,a Grenville said. aWe wouldnat have had all this trouble. Itas so easyaso simple.a Bernie walked up to him and dug his forefinger into Grenvilleas chest.

aWhat is so easyaso simple?a he demanded, a snarl in his voice.

Grenville told him.

Just after 08.15, Helga came awake from a drugged sleep. She stretched, and then looked around the luxurious bedroom. She had no regrets, leaving this room for good. The villa now held too many unhappy memories. She thought of Chris, and was thankful she could think of him without heartache. In a few weeks, she a.s.sured herself, she would have forgotten him. He would become yet another shadowy man in her past.

How careful, she thought, one had to be when one thinks one is in love. What is love? She had to admit that she had never known the real meaning of love. It was something, she now suspected, she would never know. Love was illusive. So many men and women believed they were in love, and then found, one day, that love meant nothing, and that they had become strangers. And yet, she knew, there were as many men and women who had discovered that love meant a solid background to their lives. To her, love meant s.e.xual excitement. s.e.x! This was the curse that influenced her life. She had really believed she had been in love with Chris, but when Hinkle had told her that this handsome, suave man was not only a bigamist, but a calculating cheat, her love for him had abruptly ceased, like the switching off of a light.

In a few hours, she would be at the Geneva airport, leaving Hinkle to supervise the sale of the villa and the furniture. She would fly to Paradise City and take up her dreary, lonely life, commuting to New York for equally dreary board meetings, working with Loman and Winborn. This seemed now to be the pattern of her future life. Next June, she would be forty-five!

She looked at the bedside clock. The time was 08.40. Hinkle was late! Well, never mind, she wasnat desperate for coffee. He had had a hard day packing and clearing her personal things from her closets.

He had probably overslept.

She closed her eyes and let herself drift into a doze, then came awake later with a little start, to see it was 09.10.

No Hinkle?

She got out of bed, went into the bathroom and took a shower. Putting on a wrap, she went into the living-room. The french windows were closed. Puzzled, she threw them open, and then went to the front door which she found unlocked. She opened the door and looked down the short drive to the main road.

It occurred to her that Hinkle had gone down to Castagnola village for fresh milk, and she shrugged.

This had never happened before, but then for all she knew, the milk had never turned sour before, but she had an uneasy feeling, so she went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. She saw there were three cartons of milk on the shelf.

She experienced a sudden clutch of fear. Was Hinkle ill? Had he had a heart attack after his exertions the previous day? She went quickly to her bedroom and dressed, putting on a red trouser suit. She was dressed in less than three minutes, then she ran down the long corridor that led to Hinkleas room. She rapped loudly on the door, waited, her heart thudding, then rapped again. Silence greeted her. Bracing herself, she turned the door handle and opened the door.

Peering into the room, she saw the bed had been made, the room was in immaculate order, but no Hinkle.

Panic now nibbling at her, she ran back along the corridor and opening the front door, she went to the garage. Hinkleas VW stood beside the Carmague Rolls. So he hadnat gone down to the village! Then where was he?

Had he gone into the garden, and there had a heart attack? She ran down the steep steps, looking to right and left, until she reached the gate, leading to the main road. The gate was locked. Satisfied that Hinkle was not in the garden, she took the chair lift back to the villa.

Where was Hinkle?

It was during the short run up to villa in the chair lift that Helga realized what this loyal servant really meant to her. She knew him to be her only true friend. Now, his absence frightened her. Had he decided to leave her? No! He would never do such a thing without telling her first! Then what had happened?

Where was he?

The little cabin of the chair lift came to rest, and she got out and walked across the terrace into the living-room, wondering if she should call the police, then she came to an abrupt stop.

Sitting in a lounging chair, a cigarette hanging from his lips was a short, squat man with a heavy black beard, flat features and small glittering black eyes. He was wearing a dirty blue polo neck sweater and grey trousers on which were several oil stains. He held in his lap an electric hand drill which he had plugged into a nearby socket.

The sight of this evil-looking man sent shock through Helga, turning her cold. She realized that she was alone with him. There was no Hinkle to protect her, but the steel in her made an effort to a.s.sert itself, and she said, her voice steady, aWhat are you doing here?a Bernie grinned at her. He switched on the drill and leaning forward, bored a hole in the antique coffee table by him. Having made the hole, he levered out the drill and then bored another hole. Then he switched off the drill.

aHandy tool, isnat it, lady?a he said.

Helga drew in a shuddering breath.

aWhat do you want?a she asked, not moving.

aI thought it was time, lady, to talk to you,a Bernie said. aThat fink Archer didnat seem able to convince you that we mean business. From what he tells me, your lover boy now doesnat mean a thing to you. I was going to cut off his ears, but he sold me another idea.a He leaned forward and bored another hole in the table.

So Archer hadnat been bluffing! This terrifying creature must be a Mafioso, Helga thought. Looking at him, she realized he was far too vicious and ruthless for her to attempt to handle.

aWhat do you want?a This time her voice was unsteady.

He levered the drill bit free.

aFifteen million dollars, lady, in bearer bonds.a Then he leaned forward, and with a snarl in his voice, he went on, aI have your servant, Hinkle. Grenville said Hinkle was important to you. Is he?a Helga felt faint. Moving unsteadily, she dropped into a chair.

aWhere is he?a aYouall see. You and I are going to him now.a Bernie bored yet another hole in the table. aYou will see how useful this tool is, lady. Unless you pay up, Iall give you a little exhibition that will make you change your mind.a He got to his feet. aLetas go.a aIam not going with you!a Bernie regarded her evilly.

aI said letas go, and listen, lady, have you ever thought what happens when a fink gets a drill bit like this through both his kneecaps? You play along with me, lady, or your fink servant wonat walk again.a Helga felt the blood drain from her face. She had always had a horror of violence, and this obscene threat nearly turned her sickaand to Hinkle!

aIall pay.a She got unsteadily to her feet. aIall call my bank now.a Bernie studied her, nodded and grinned.

aThatas being sensible, but no tricks. Go ahead and fix it. I want the bonds here by tomorrow morning or else this drill goes into action.a Shaking, Helga went to the telephone and picked up the receiver.

aThat will be quite unnecessary, madame,a Hinkle said in his fruity, bishopas voice.

Helga spun around.

Standing in the french windows, flanked on either side by two tall, heavily-built men, both with automatic pistols in their hands, was Hinkle: admittedly an unshaven, crumpled-looking Hinkle, but still, Hinkle.

Bernie started to his feet, dropping the drill, as one of the big men moved over to him.

ah.e.l.lo, Bernie,a the man said. aYou have had a long run, now itas our turn. Come on.a Bernie eyed the gun, then shrugged.

aYou canat pin anything on me, Bazzi,a he snarled, aand you know it.a The big man smiled.

aWe can always try, Bernie. Letas go.a Bernie glared at Hinkle, then moved across the living-room. The two police officers followed. The front door slammed. A car started up and drove away.

Hinkle said, aI must ask you to excuse me, madame. I am looking dishevelled. If you would be kind enough to give me a few moments, I will get you some coffee.a Tears began to run down Helgaas face. She went to him, and putting her arms around him, she hugged him.

aOh, Hinkle! I was so frightened! If they had done anything dreadful to youaa aMadame!a Hinkleas voice was sharp. aYou must excuse me for a few minutes,a and giving her a fatherly pat on her shoulder, he disengaged himself and walked fast to his quarters.

Helga dropped into a chair and continued to cry.

She had stopped crying, and was in control of herself, when Hinkle, immaculate, pushed in the coffee trolley.

aI suggest a little cognac mixed with the coffee, madame,a he said. aIt is good for the nerves.a Her lips trembling, she forced a smile.

aYou think of everything, Hinkle, but I donat drink a thing unless you join me, and please sit down.a Hinkle raised his eyebrows.

aI mean it!a Helga said sharply.

aVery well, madame. I will get a second cup.a There was a pause, then Hinkle returned, carrying a cup and saucer. He poured coffee into the two cups, added the cognac, then sat down, opposite Helga.

aMadame, I have to apologize,a he said. aI have exposed you to a terrible experience, but I a.s.sure you, the police insisted it was the only way to trap these ruffians.a Helga sipped her coffee. Hinkleas quiet presence had a soothing effect on her.

aTell me, Hinkle. I want to know what happened.a aOf course, madame. As you are aware, I telephoned my nephew-in-law, Jean Faucon, about Mr. Grenville. What you didnat know is that I told Faucon about the whole situation, and that Mr. Grenville had been supposedly kidnapped and that Mr. Archer was demanding a two million dollar ransom. Faucon alerted the Swiss police. Inspector Bazzi had had this villa watched now for the past two days. He wanted to find out where Mr. Grenville and Mr. Archer were hiding. When I got rid of Mr. Archer, a police officer followed him to a rented villa in Paradiso, and this man Bernie appeared. Apparently, Bernie is well-known to the police, but he has been astute enough not to give them any evidence to arrest him. The police followed Mr. Archer and Bernie to a small shop in Lugano and a watch was kept. The Swiss police are patient. They waited. Apparently, Bernie decided, as you appeared to have lost interest in Mr. Grenville, to kidnap me. This move was unforeseen by the police, but as our villa was under guard, there was no reason for alarm.

aThis morning, I opened the front door, as is my custom, and was seized by two ruffians who forced me into a car, and drove me to this shop which has a barn at the back. There, I found Mr. Grenville and Mr. Archer, and this evil man, Bernie. Still the police waited. Bernie left and came here to threaten you. As soon as he had gone, the police, under the direction of Inspector Bazzi, arrested Mr. Grenville and Mr. Archer and the two ruffians. Inspector Bazzi and I then drove here and were in time to hear Bernie threatening you.a Hinkle paused, then went on, aThat is the story, madame. I regret that you have been subjected to such an alarming experience, and that this evil man should have ruined such a nice table.a aI donat give a d.a.m.n about the table,a Helga said. aIam only so thankful I have you back.a aThank you, madame.a Hinkle finished his coffee. aThe whole affair will be handled with the utmost discretion. Inspector Bazzi tells me that Mr. Grenville will be sent back to Germany to face bigamy charges. Bernie, and his two ruffians will be charged with receiving stolen property. The police searched Bernieas apartment, and it contains a considerable amount of stolen property. Inspector Bazzi understands that it would be better to drop the kidnapping charge, so you will not be involved.a aAnd Archer?a Helga asked.

aMr. Archer, of course, presents a problem. I found Inspector Bazzi most understanding. I felt sure you would not wish to prosecute Mr. Archer as Mr. Rolfe refrained from prosecuting him. If he were prosecuted, he could make difficulties.a Hinkleas voice went down a tone to show his disapproval. aIt has been arranged that Mr. Archer should be deported from Switzerland, and not allowed to return. In the circ.u.mstances, and to avoid charging him, it seems the best course.a Helga looked at him. She told herself this kindly man must have known for some time that at one time she had been Archeras mistress. Probably, her husband had told him. How wise Hinkle was! She was sure that if Archer were charged, he would try, and probably succeed, in telling the world, through the press, that in the past, the fabulous, wealthy Mrs. Rolfe use to lie on his office floor, while he serviced her.

aYes,a she said, and looked away. aSo it is over.a aYes, madame. Now, there are things to do. You will be catching the three oaclock flight to New York.a He got to his feet. aI have to complete the packing.a As he picked up the tray, he paused, then said, aMay I suggest, madame, in the future, you should get your values right. I am certainly not worth fifteen million dollars.a His kindly, fat face lit up with a warm smile. aBut I thank you.a Leaving her, he walked into the kitchen.

To Archeras surprise, Inspector Bazzi of the Ticino police turned out to be genial and talkative, in spite of his heavy features, his thin mouth and his small copas eyes.

Smiling affably, he told Archer he was going to escort him personally to the Geneva airport, and to see him safely on the London flight. While driving Archer to the airport, he talked of his wife and son, and the holiday he was taking in Nice at the end of the month. Unless one had known, Archer thought, one would never guess this ma.s.sively-built man at his side, was a police officer.

Utterly relieved that he wasnat to be arrested, but merely deported, Archer regained some of his bounce. He gave Bazzi the names of several cheap, but good restaurants in the Nice neighbourhood, and also recommended two modest, but good hotels. Bazzi thanked him, and said he would remember Archeras suggestions.

Together, they walked into the airport lobby, and Archer parted with his shabby suitcase and had his flight ticket checked. The formalities over, the two men pa.s.sed through the customs. The two customs officers eyed Archer, shook hands with Bazzi and waved them through. Bazzi then went with Archer into the flight take-off lounge.

aThere will be a delay,a Bazzi said. aThe London flight will be late.a aEverything to do with England is late these days,a Archer said sourly.

The two men settled themselves on one of the benches that overlooked the tarmac where several aircraft were lined up.

aJust an official word, Mr. Archer,a Bazzi said with his genial smile. aPlease donat attempt to return to Switzerland. That is understood, isnat it?a aYes.a aGood.a Bazzi regarded him. aI must say, Mr. Archer, you are a very fortunate man. Had Madame Rolfe brought charges against you, you would have spent many disagreeable years in one of our jails.a Archer nodded.

aShe had her reasons,a he said.

aThe very rich always have reasons.a Bazzi shrugged. aSo, you are going to London. Would it be inquisitive to ask what you will do there, Mr. Archer?a The question was put in a most friendly way, and Archer wished he could answer truthfully.

aWhat shall I do?a he repeated, thinking, aWhat shall I do? How I wish I knew!a He had several contacts in London, but they were all, more or less, in the same depressing boat as himself: fringe people, feverishly hunting for quick money. Perhaps, if he were lucky, one of them could use his services and his brains for a small fee: if he were lucky, but he wasnat going to tell Bazzi this. aYou have no idea, Inspector, of the opportunities there are in England. There are interesting loans to be floated, Arab money anxious to be invested, property developers looking for new outlets. many, many opportunities for a man of my experience.a Bazzi eyed him thoughtfully, then smiled.

aI was under the impression, Mr. Archer, that England, at this moment, is suffering from some kind of depression.a Archer waved his hand airily.

aThat is mere newspaper talk. You should never believe what you read in the papers. You would be surprised how much hidden wealth still remains in England.a aIs that so?a aQuite right. Oh, I know there is a lot of talk about Englandas troubles. What country doesnat have troubles, and strikes?a Archer wagged his head. aBut I a.s.sure you, I shall have no difficulty.a There was a slight commotion which caused both men to look up. Two press photographers were hovering, then Helga, looking radiant, carrying a small bag and her coat, swept through the lounge and into the V.I.P. room.

aAh, Mrs. Rolfe herself!a Bazzi said. aA fine-looking woman.a Archer became deflated. So, Helga had already forgotten Grenville, he thought. She couldnat look so radiant, so happy if she were grieving. What a b.i.t.c.h!

If his kidnap plan had succeeded, he too would have been able to walk into the V.I.P. lounge, and be fawned over by stewards. Now, here he was, under police escort, flying tourist-cla.s.s to London, not knowing how long his money would last before he found some shady promoter with a proposition.

aA fine-looking woman,a Bazzi repeated. aAt one time, I understand, Mr. Archer, you had the privilege of working with her.a Archer wasnat listening. He was regarding a tall, well-built man in his early fifties who had just entered the lounge. This man was immaculately dressed, and exuded money and power. His lean, strong face with a cleft chin, china blue eyes, and a grey clipped moustache gave him an impressive, eye-catching appearance.

Bazzi, following Archeras glance, said, aAh! That is Monsieur Henri de Villiers: one of the richest and most important industrialists of France. There are rumours that he will be the next French Amba.s.sador to the United States.a Already, the two photographers were letting off their flashbulbs. De Villiers paused, gave a charming smile, before an air hostess ushered him into the V.I.P. lounge.

Archer heaved a sigh.

With a million dollars, he too could have been as impressive as this man, he thought.

The New York flight was announced.

aThere they go,a Bazzi said, turning to look down on the tarmac.

Archer saw Helga moving towards the aircraft. Behind her was de Villiers, followed by two other people. Archer watched Helgaas easy stride; then half-way to the aircraft, she dropped something white which could have been a handkerchief, but Archer was too far away to be sure. De Villiers picked it up, and lengthening his stride, gave it to Helga. Archer watched her pause and look up at this imposing man, and then give him a flashing smile. They exchanged words, then de Villiers took her small bag, and together, they walked to the aircraft.

Bazzi chuckled.

aThat, I think, was fast work,a he said.

aShe has always worked fast, and always will,a Archer said sourly, then hearing his London flight called, he got to his feet.

aGood-bye, Mr. Archer.a Bazzi shook hands. aGood luck.a Knowing he would need all the luck in the world, Archer thanked him.