«Fourmyle,» Olivia said wearily, «I'll concede that you're amusing, original, witty, fascinating . . . anything, if you will only go away.»
He stumbled off the dais. «Bitch. Bitch. Bitch. No. She's the dream just as I dreamed her. The icy pinnacle to be stormed and taken. To lay siege…invade…ravish…force to her knees…» He came face to face with Saul Dagenham.
He stood paralyzed, coercing blood and bowels.
«Ah, Fourmyle,» Presteign said. «This is Saul Dagenham. He can only give us thirty minutes and he insists on spending one of them with you.»
«Does he know? Did he send for Dagenham to make sure? Attack. Toujours de l'audace. What happened to your face, Dagenham?» Fourmyle asked with detached curiosity.
The death's head smiled. «And I thought I was famous. Radiation poisoning. I'm hot. Time was when they said 'Hotter than an pistol.' Now they say 'Hotter than Dagenham.'» The deadly eyes raked Foyle. «What's behind that circus of yours?»
«A passion for notoriety.»
«I'm an old hand at camouflage myself. I recognize the signs. What's your larceny?»
«Did Dillinger tell Capone?» Foyle smiled back, beginning to relax, restraining his triumph. «I've outfaced them both. You look happier, Dagenham.» Instantly he realized the slip.
Dagenham picked it up in a flash. «Happier than when? Where did we meet before?»
«Not happier than when; happier than me.» Foyle turned to Presteign. «I've fallen desperately in love with Lady Olivia.»
«Saul, your half hour's up.»
Dagenham and Presteign, on either side of Foyle, turned. A tall woman approached, stately in an emerald evening gown, her red hair gleaming. It was Jisbella McQueen. Their glances met. Before the shock could seethe into his face, Foyle turned, ran six steps to the first door he saw, opened it and darted through.
The door slammed behind him. He was in a short blind corridor. There was a click, a pause, and then a canned voice spoke courteously: «You have invaded a private portion of this residence. Please retire.»
Foyle gasped and struggled with himself.
«You have invaded a private portion of this residence. Please retire.»
«I never knew. . . Thought she was killed out there. . . She recognized me…»
«You have invaded a private portion of this residence. Please retire.»
«I'm finished . . . She'll never forgive me . . . Must be telling Dagenham and Presteign now.»
The door from the reception hall opened, and for a moment Foyle thought he saw his flaming image. Then he realized he was looking at Jisbella's flaming hair. She made no move, just stood and smiled at him in furious triumph. He straightened.
«By Cod, I won't go down whining.»
Without haste, Foyle sauntered out of the corridor, took Jisbella's arm and led her back to the reception hall. He never bothered to look around for Dagenham or Presteign. They would present themselves, with force and arms, in due time. He smiled at Jisbella; she smiled back, still in triumph.
«Thanks for running away, Gully. I never dreamed it could be so satisfying.»
«Running away? My dear Jiz!»
«Well?»
«I can't tell you how lovely you're looking tonight. We've come a long way from Couffre Martel, haven't we?» Foyle motioned to the ballroom. «Dance?»
Her eyes widened in surprise at his composure. She permitted him to escort her to the ballroom and take her in his arms.
«By the way, Jiz, how did you manage to keep out of Couffre Martel?»
«Dagenham arranged it. So you dance now, Gully?»
«I dance, speak four languages miserably, study science and philosophy, write pitiful poetry, blow myself up with idiotic experiments, fence like a fool, box like a buffoon . . . In short, I'm the notorious Fourmyle of Ceres.»
«No longer Gully Foyle.»
«Only to you, dear, and whoever you've told.»
«Just Dagenham. Are you sorry I blew your secret?»
«You couldn't help yourself any more than I could.»
«No, I couldn't. Your name just popped out of me. What would you have paid me to keep my mouth shut?»
«Don't be a fool, Jiz. This accident's going to earn you about 17,980,000.»
«What d'you mean?»
«I told you I'd give you whatever was left over after I finished 'Vorga'.»
«You've finished 'Vorga'?» she said in surprise.
«No, dear, you've finished me. But I'll keep my promise.»
She laughed. «Generous Gully Foyle. Be real generous, Gully. Make a run for it. Entertain me a little.»
«Squealing like a rat? I don't know how, Jiz. I'm trained for hunting, nothing else.»
«And I killed the tiger. Give me one satisfaction, Gully. Say you were close to 'Vorga.' I ruined you when you were half a step from the finish. Yes?»
«I wish I could, Jiz, but I can't. I'm nowhere. I was trying to pick up another lead here tonight.»
«Poor Gully. Maybe I can help you out of this jam. I can say . . . oh… that I made a mistake . . . or a joke . . . that you really aren't Gully Foyle. I know how to confuse Saul. I can do it, Gully . . . if you still love me.»
He looked down at her and shook his head. «It's never been love between us, Jiz. You know that. I'm too one-track to be anything but a hunter.»
«Too one-track to be anything but a fool!»
«What did you mean, Jiz . . . Dagenham arranged to keep you out of Couffre Martel. . . You know how to confuse Saul Dagenham? What have you got to do with him?»
«I work for him. I'm one of his couriers.»
«You mean he's blackmailing you? Threatening to send you back if you don't . . .»
«No. We hit it off the minute we met. He started off capturing me; I ended up capturing him.»
«How do you mean?»
«Can't you guess?»
He stared at her. Her eyes were veiled, but he understood. «Jiz! With him?»
«But how? He…”
«There are precautions. It's . . . I don't want to talk about it, Gully.»
«Sorry. He's a long time returning.»
«Returning?»
«Dagenham. With his army.»
«Oh. Yes, of course.» Jisabella laughed again, then spoke in a low, furious tone. «You don't know what a tightrope you've been walking, Gully. If you'd begged or bribed or tried to romance me. . . By God, I'd have ruined you. I'd have told the world who you were . . . Screamed it from the housetops . . .
«What are you talking about?»
«Saul isn't returning. He doesn't know. You can go to hell on your own.»
«I don't believe you.»
«D'you think it would take him this long to get you? Saul Dagenham?»
«But why didn't you tell him? After the way I ran out on you . . .»
«Because I don't want him going to hell with you. I'm not talking about 'Vorga.' I mean something else. PyrE. That's why they hunted you. That's what they're after. Twenty pounds of PyrE.»
«What's that?»
«When you got the safe open was there a small box in it? Made of ILl Inert Lead Isomer?»
«Yes.»
«What was inside the ILl box?»
«Twenty slugs that looked like compressed iodine crystals.»
«What did you do with the slugs?»
«Sent two out for analysis. No one could find out what they are. I'm trying to run an analysis on a third in my lab . . . when I'm not clowning for the public.»
«Oh, you are, are you? Why?»
«I'm growing up, Jiz,» Foyle said gently. «It didn't take much to figure out that was what Presteign and Dagenham were after.»
«Where have you got the rest of the slugs?»
«In a safe place.»
«They're not safe. They can't ever be safe. I don't know what PyrE is, but I know it's the road to hell, and I don't want Saul walking it.»
«You love him that much?»
«I respect him that much. He's the first man that ever showed me an excuse for the double standard.»
«Jiz, what is PyrE? You know.»
«I've guessed. I've pieced together the hints I've heard. I've got an idea. And I could tell you, Gully, but I won't.» The fury in her face was luminous. «I'm running out on you, this time. I'm leaving you to hang helpless in the dark. See what it feels like, boy! Enjoy!»