Alleyn said: “The Commissaire at the Préfecture sent you to meet us, I think?”

“That is so, M’sieur.”

“Did he give you my name?”

“Yes, M’sieur l’Inspector-en-Chef. It is Ahrr-lin. But he said that M’sieur l’Inspecteur would prefer, perhaps, that I did not use his rank.”

“I would greatly prefer it, Raoul.”

“It is already forgotten, M’sieur.”

“Again, good.”

They passed the cave-like room, where the woman sat among her figurines. Raoul hailed her in a cheerful manner and she returned his greeting. “You must bring your gentleman in to see my statues,” she shouted. He called back over his shoulder “All in good time, Marie,” and added, “She is an artist, that one. Her saints are pretty and of assistance in one’s devotions; but then she overcharges ridiculously, which is not so amusing.”

He sang a stylish little cadence and tilted up his head. They were walking beneath a part of the Château de la Chèvre d’Argent that straddled the passage-way. “It goes everywhere, this house,” he remarked. “One would need a map to find one’s way from the kitchen to the best bedroom. Anything might happen.”

When they reached the entrance he stood aside and took off his chauffeur’s cap. They found Dr. Baradi in the hall. Alleyn told him that Raoul had been a medical orderly and Baradi at once described the duties he would be expected to perform. His manner was cold and uncompromising. Raoul gave him his full attention. He stood easily, his thumbs crooked in his belt. He retained at once his courtesy, his natural grace of posture, and his air of independence.

“Well,” Baradi said sharply when he had finished: “Are you capable of this work?”

“I believe so, M’sieur le Docteur.”

“If you prove to be satisfactory, you will be given 500 francs. That is extremely generous payment for unskilled work.”

“As to payment, M’sieur le Docteur,” Raoul said, “I am already employed by this gentleman and consider myself entirely at his disposal. It is at his request that I engage myself in this task.”

Baradi raised his eyebrows and looked at Alleyn. “Evidently an original,” he said in English. “He seems tolerably intelligent but one never knows. Let us hope that he is at least not too stupid. My man will give him suitable clothes and see that he is clean.”

He went to the fireplace and pulled a tapestry bell-rope. “Mrs. Allen,” he said, “is most kindly preparing our patient. There is a room at your disposal and I venture to lend you one of my gowns. It will, I’m afraid, be terribly voluminous but perhaps some adjustment can be made. We are involved in compromise, isn’t it?”

A man wearing the dress of an Egyptian house-servant came in. Baradi spoke to him in his own language, and then to Raoul in French: “Go with Mahomet and prepare yourself in accordance with his instructions. He speaks French.” Raoul acknowledged this direction with something between a bow and a nod. He said to Alleyn: “Monsieur will perhaps excuse me?” and followed the servant, looking about the room with interest as he left it.

Baradi said: “Italian blood there, I think. One comes across these hybrids along the coast. May I show you to my room?”

It was in the same passage as Miss Truebody’s, but a little further along it. In Alleyn the trick of quick observation was a professional habit. He saw not only the general sumptuousness of the room but the details also: the Chinese wallpaper, a Wu Tao-tzu scroll, a Ming vase.

“This,” Dr. Baradi needlessly explained, “is known as the Chinese room but, as you will observe, Mr. Oberon does not hesitate to introduce modulation. The bureau is by Vernis-Martin.”

“A modulation, as you say, but an enchanting one. The cabinet there is a bolder departure. It looks like a Mussonier.”

“One of his pupils, I understand. You have a discerning eye. Mr. Oberon will be delighted.”

A gown was laid out on the bed. Baradi took it up. “Will you try this? There is an unoccupied room next door with access to a bathroom. You have time for a bath and will, no doubt, be glad to take one. Since morphine has been given there is no immediate urgency, but I should prefer all the same to operate as soon as possible. When you are ready, my own preparations will be complete and we can discuss final arrangements.”

Alleyn said: “Dr. Baradi, we haven’t said anything about your fee for the operation: indeed, it is neither my business nor my wife’s, but I do feel some concern about it. I imagine Miss Truebody will at least be able…”

Baradi held up his hand. “Let us not discuss it,” he said. “Let us assume that it is of no great moment.”

“If you prefer to do so.” Alleyn hesitated and then added: “This is an extraordinary situation. You will, I’m sure, realize that we are reluctant to take such a grave responsibility. Miss Truebody is a complete stranger to us. You yourself must feel it would be much more satisfactory if there was a relation or friend from whom we could get some kind of authority. Especially as her illness is so serious.”

“I agree. However, she would undoubtedly die if the operation was not performed and, in my opinion, would be in the gravest danger if it was unduly postponed. As it is, I’m afraid there is a risk, a great risk, that she will not recover. We can,” Baradi added, with what Alleyn felt was a genuine, if controlled, anxiety, “only do our best and hope that all may be well.”

And on this note Alleyn turned to go. As he was in the doorway Baradi, with a complete change of manner, said: “Your enchanting wife is with her. Third door on the left. Quite enchanting. Delicious, if you will permit me.”

Alleyn looked at him and found what he saw offensive.

“Under these unfortunate circumstances,” he said politely, “I can’t do anything else.”

Evidently Dr. Baradi chose to regard this observation as a pleasantry. He laughed richly. “Delicious!” he repeated, but whether in reference to Alleyn’s comment or as a reiterated observation upon Troy it was impossible to determine. Alleyn, who had every reason and no inclination for keeping his temper, walked into the next room.

iii

Troy had carried out her instructions and Miss Truebody had slipped again into sleep. The sound of her breathing cut the silence into irregular intervals. Her eyes were not quite closed. Segments of the eyeballs appeared under the pathetic insufficiency of her lashes. Troy was at once unwilling to leave her and anxious to return to Ricky. She heard Alleyn and Dr. Baradi in the passage. Their voices were broken off by a door slam and again there was only Miss Truebody’s breathing. Troy waited, hoping that Alleyn knew where she was and would come to her. After what seemed an interminable interval there was a tap at the door. She opened it and he was there in a white gown looking tall, elegant and angry. Troy shut the door behind her and they whispered together in the passage.

“Rum go,” he said, “isn’t it?”

“Not ’alf. When do you begin?”

“Soon. He’s trying to make himself aseptic. A losing battle, I should think.”

“Frightful, isn’t he?”

“The bottom. I’m sorry, darling, you have to suffer his atrocious gallantries.”

“Well, I daresay they’re just elaborate Oriental courtesy, or something.”

“Elaborate bloody impertinence.”

“Never mind, Rory. I’ll skip out of his way.”

“I shouldn’t have brought you to this damn place.”

“Fiddle! In any case he’s going to be too busy.”

“Is she asleep?”

“Sort of. I don’t like to leave her, but suppose Ricky should wake?”

“Go up to him. I’ll stay with her. Baradi’s going to give her an injection before I get going with the ether. And, Troy—”

“Yes?”

“It’s important these people don’t get a line on who I am.”

“I know.”

“I haven’t told you anything about them, but I think I’ll have to come moderately clean when there’s a chance. It’s a rum setup. I’ll get you out of it as soon as possible.”