The Portuguese Escape

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Authors: Ann Bridge
Tags: detective, thriller, Historical, Crime, Mystery, British, women sleuth
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had found it—and his conscious mind told him that it was merely to gain time—he added —‘Shall you be asking Countess Hetta Páloczy? You know she’s arrived?’
    â€˜Oh yes, so she has. How interesting—I expect Helen would like to meet her. Must the mother come too? Yes, I suppose she must. Very well—I’ll ask Miss Cuthbertson to send cards to them both.
What
is the girl called?’
    â€˜Countess Hetta’—he spelt it out.
    â€˜Yes. The surname is the trouble; but I expect Miss Cuthbertson knows how to spell it. I never can be certain whether Polish or Hungarian names are the worst! Well, we shall count on you on Friday.’
    â€˜I shall look forward to it, Sir. And I’ll see that Miss Cuthbertson gets the name right! Countess Hetta is an interesting girl—unusual,’ Richard added; and then wondered why he had said that.
    â€˜I imagine that she has led a rather unusual life, by our standards,’ said the Ambassador a little drily, and rang off.
    After a moment or two Richard lifted his receiver again and asked the bi-lingual telephone operator—the Portuguese wife of one of the English-born Chancery messengers —to ring up the Duke of Ericeira’s house and get Miss Probyn for him. He then replaced the receiver, opened the drawer in his desk, and resumed his study of the life of the domesticated but so informative Magalhães family. Whenthat discreet buzz came again he once more took up the instrument as before, saying ‘Atherley.’
    â€˜Really, Richard,’ Julia’s voice said indignantly—‘what a way to speak! Atherley indeed! Have you become a Duke, or something?’
    â€˜No, it’s simply common form—it avoids confusion,’ Richard said. ‘Can you come round to my house for a drink this evening?’
    â€˜Party?’
    â€˜No, you and me. Yes—No?’
    â€˜Yes’—rather hesitantly. ‘Yes, I think probably. Could I call you back presently and let you know? What time?’
    â€˜By all means. Sevenish—or whatever suits you.’ As he put back the receiver he added aloud—‘According to what time your dinner with Major Torrens is, dear Julia!’ The Major, he decided, had been uncommonly quick off the mark after learning that Miss Probyn was in Lisbon; indeed, unless he had telephoned from the Embassy he could hardly have done it in the time—he had left Atherley’s room under half an hour earlier. Curiosity prompted Richard to find out about this.
    â€˜Mrs. Tomlinson, did a Major Torrens put a call through from the Chancery this morning?’ he asked the operator.
    â€˜Yes, Mr. Atherley, he did—about twenty minutes ago, from Mr. Melplash’s room. Mr. Melplash spoke to me first.’
    â€˜Quite all right, Mrs. Tomlinson. It was to the Duke of Ericeira’s, wasn’t it?’
    â€˜Yes, Mr. Atherley. To the same young lady that you spoke to just now.’ There was a certain smugness, Richard thought, about the operator’s voice. ‘Thank you,’ he said.
    Julia rang back later to say that she would be with Richard at 6.45—‘I’ve a dinner engagement.’
    â€˜Do you want fetching?’ the young man asked.
    â€˜No no—I have my own car; got it yesterday.’
    â€˜I’m glad the firm’s so rich,’ he mocked.
    Julia was looking very lovely when she came into his drawing-room that evening, in a short full-skirted sub-evening dress of very rich dark-green brocaded silk.
    â€˜Goodness, Julia, what a frock!’
    â€˜It’s my wedding dress. Do you really like it?’
    â€˜It’s
quite
beautiful,’ Richard said. ‘But I am afraid you have probably put it on more for Major Torrens than for me.’
    The detested blush dyed Julia’s cheeks to the tone of a fully-ripened apricot set against a sunny wall.
    â€˜What do
you
know of Major Torrens,

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