Read Online Siege at the Villa Lipp by Eric Ambler - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Eric Ambler
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other persons to play should perform so dismally when called upon to act a little herself.
She was in the middle of an anecdote about Coco Chanel which she had picked up from a women’s magazine. Krom’s eyes were glassy with boredom. Dr Connell was glowering at her. Dr Henson was holding an empty tumbler in cupped hands and staring into it as if it were a crystal ball.
In the doorway I paused and clicked my heels slightly.
Melanie stopped talking instantly and stood up.
Krom rose more deliberately and pointed at me. ‘This,’ he said to his witnesses, ‘is Mr Paul Firman.’
I waited one more moment, until they were all on their feet, then I went forward with my most charming smile to greet them.
Connell made an instinctive movement as if to shake hands, but I ignored it and let one formal little bow serve them all. The sooner they were reminded that they were uninvited as well as unwelcome guests the better.
‘Welcome,’ I said. ‘So glad you had a safe journey. This, as you have no doubt gathered, is my secretary, Miss Melanie Wicky-Frey, but - ‘ I broke off and threw a reproachful glance at Melanie - ‘I see that your glasses are empty.’
Krom was the first off the mark. ‘Thank you, Mr Firman, but we are travel-weary. What I think we would all like at the moment, if you will be so kind, is to be permitted to go to’ our rooms.’
‘That is,’ said Connell tartly and in pretty fair French, ‘if his Algerian truffle-hound has finished snuffling through our bags.’ He went on quickly as I opened my mouth to reply. ‘And if, Monsieur Firman, you could spare us the protestations of injured innocence, we’d appreciate it. We are, as the Professor says, tired.’
I gave him the thinnest of smiles. ‘Oh, I wasn’t going to protest, my dear sir, though Mr Yves Boularis might do so if he heard himself described as an Algerian. He is Tunisian. Of course your luggage has been searched, and most thoroughly. I must remind you that, even though you seem to speak French quite well, the language agreed upon for this conference was English. Am I not right, Professor?’
Krom cleared his throat. ‘Yes, quite right, Mr Firman, though I think Dr Connell has a point. We all submitted with good grace to a body search, but is it really necessary that we should be treated with such deep suspicion, almost as if we were policemen in disguise?’
‘Yes, Professor, I am afraid it is necessary.’
He gave an exasperated sigh as I went to the sideboard and poured myself a drink. Then Connell started again. My not shaking hands had rattled him.
‘I suppose you’re referring to that little tape machine of mine,’ he began, and drew breath to continue.
I shut him up by turning to Dr Henson.
‘What do you say?’ I asked her. ‘Am I being unreasonable, or are you forgetting that you signed a paper agreeing to abide by a set of rules while attending this conference?’
On closer inspection, she was an attractive woman with delicately structured facial bones, fine eyes and a mouth which suggested all sorts of possibilities. Not all of them would be agreeable, however; that brief marriage of hers must have been a harrowing affair. At that moment she was wondering how she might convincingly convert her embarrassment into anger and failing to find an answer. Finally, she just shrugged.
‘You are not being unreasonable, Mr Firman. I haven’t forgotten the paper I signed.’
‘Thank you, Dr Henson. Now, do you mind telling me and your friends here whether it was your own idea to photograph and fingerprint the persons you were to meet in this house, or someone else’s?’
Krom let out a kind of yelp.
Connell started a protest. ‘Now wait a minute! Are you accusing Dr Henson of ... ‘
But Dr Henson preferred to take care of herself. ‘No,’ she broke in crisply, ‘he is not making an accusation. He is asking an awkward question about the special cameras and other equipment found concealed in my handbag.’
She was in the middle of an anecdote about Coco Chanel which she had picked up from a women’s magazine. Krom’s eyes were glassy with boredom. Dr Connell was glowering at her. Dr Henson was holding an empty tumbler in cupped hands and staring into it as if it were a crystal ball.
In the doorway I paused and clicked my heels slightly.
Melanie stopped talking instantly and stood up.
Krom rose more deliberately and pointed at me. ‘This,’ he said to his witnesses, ‘is Mr Paul Firman.’
I waited one more moment, until they were all on their feet, then I went forward with my most charming smile to greet them.
Connell made an instinctive movement as if to shake hands, but I ignored it and let one formal little bow serve them all. The sooner they were reminded that they were uninvited as well as unwelcome guests the better.
‘Welcome,’ I said. ‘So glad you had a safe journey. This, as you have no doubt gathered, is my secretary, Miss Melanie Wicky-Frey, but - ‘ I broke off and threw a reproachful glance at Melanie - ‘I see that your glasses are empty.’
Krom was the first off the mark. ‘Thank you, Mr Firman, but we are travel-weary. What I think we would all like at the moment, if you will be so kind, is to be permitted to go to’ our rooms.’
‘That is,’ said Connell tartly and in pretty fair French, ‘if his Algerian truffle-hound has finished snuffling through our bags.’ He went on quickly as I opened my mouth to reply. ‘And if, Monsieur Firman, you could spare us the protestations of injured innocence, we’d appreciate it. We are, as the Professor says, tired.’
I gave him the thinnest of smiles. ‘Oh, I wasn’t going to protest, my dear sir, though Mr Yves Boularis might do so if he heard himself described as an Algerian. He is Tunisian. Of course your luggage has been searched, and most thoroughly. I must remind you that, even though you seem to speak French quite well, the language agreed upon for this conference was English. Am I not right, Professor?’
Krom cleared his throat. ‘Yes, quite right, Mr Firman, though I think Dr Connell has a point. We all submitted with good grace to a body search, but is it really necessary that we should be treated with such deep suspicion, almost as if we were policemen in disguise?’
‘Yes, Professor, I am afraid it is necessary.’
He gave an exasperated sigh as I went to the sideboard and poured myself a drink. Then Connell started again. My not shaking hands had rattled him.
‘I suppose you’re referring to that little tape machine of mine,’ he began, and drew breath to continue.
I shut him up by turning to Dr Henson.
‘What do you say?’ I asked her. ‘Am I being unreasonable, or are you forgetting that you signed a paper agreeing to abide by a set of rules while attending this conference?’
On closer inspection, she was an attractive woman with delicately structured facial bones, fine eyes and a mouth which suggested all sorts of possibilities. Not all of them would be agreeable, however; that brief marriage of hers must have been a harrowing affair. At that moment she was wondering how she might convincingly convert her embarrassment into anger and failing to find an answer. Finally, she just shrugged.
‘You are not being unreasonable, Mr Firman. I haven’t forgotten the paper I signed.’
‘Thank you, Dr Henson. Now, do you mind telling me and your friends here whether it was your own idea to photograph and fingerprint the persons you were to meet in this house, or someone else’s?’
Krom let out a kind of yelp.
Connell started a protest. ‘Now wait a minute! Are you accusing Dr Henson of ... ‘
But Dr Henson preferred to take care of herself. ‘No,’ she broke in crisply, ‘he is not making an accusation. He is asking an awkward question about the special cameras and other equipment found concealed in my handbag.’
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