Street Of The Five Moons Part 18

It was like trying to cross rotten ice; a false move, a single wrong word could break through the flimsy rapport that lay between us. He was thinking, too. He wasn't stupid, that boy, even if he was crazy.

"What was it you said to her just now?" he demanded. "About letting you go away from here? You have laid a trap. What is it?"

I hesitated. His eyes narrowed and his finger tightened on the trigger of the gun.

"I didn't understand," I said quickly. "I didn't realize you were involved, Luigi - not like this. I don't want to get you in trouble."

"Wait," he said, as if to himself. "Let me think a moment. You have some scheme.... Ah! The telephone calls you made. My father told me, it was to some man in Munich. That is your plan, is it not? If you don't telephone this person, he will send the police. You see, I am more clever than you thought!"

His young face beamed with pleasure. My brain knew this handsome, charming boy was a killer, but my emotions just wouldn't take it in.

"You are clever," I said. "Yes; that was my idea. But I won't-"

"Make your call." The gun dipped toward a low table that held a telephone. "Go on, make it. You will be very careful. You will say all is well. And to be sure you are careful-" He turned. "Bruno! Bring him here."

I looked at the principessa. She raised slim shoulders in that ineffable Italian shrug.

"Fat lot of help you are," I said bitterly.

The door through which Luigi had come was still open, the draperies flung back. I heard footsteps, very slow and dragging. Then John appeared, supported by Bruno. His face was bruised, and he had the makings of a magnificent black eye.

"I was questioning him," Luigi explained simply. "I wanted to know where you were hiding, with the information he had given you."

John and I contemplated one another across the length of the room. He was leaning heavily on his captor. I couldn't read his expression, his face was too battered, but his first words left me in no doubt as to his state of mind.

"You've really mucked it up this time, haven't you?"

"You might have warned me," I said, stung to the quick. "You knew - d.a.m.n it, that's why you looked so funny, in the apartment, when I said-"

"Warned you! I didn't have time to take a deep breath with those gorillas battering at the door. I have heard of stupid heroines in my time, but you are the prize. I risk my life and limb to save you from violent death, and you turn right around and walk back into-"

Luigi, who had been listening with a disapproving frown, put an end to John's tirade - which I had to admit had some justice behind it - by pointing the gun at him.

"Enough," he snapped. "That is no way to talk to a lady, especially when she has risked herself to save you. You should be ashamed."

I thought for a minute John was going to laugh, and I made a horrible grimace at him. Luigi seemed to be very sensitive about being ridiculed.

"You are right," John said, after a moment of struggle. "I apologize. Maybe we ought to try something more in keeping with this hideous farce we seem to be involved in. How about this? Oh, darling, how brave and how foolish of you! Don't you know I would rather die a thousand deaths than see a single hair of your silly little head in jeopardy?"

"But, sweetheart," I said. "I couldn't go on living if your unfortunate habit of reticence had cost you your life. I had to come, if only to die with you."

John had that effect on me anyway, but there was some method in our madness - at least, there was in mine. Maybe if we stalled long enough, Luigi would forget about the telephone call. It was an awfully dim chance. Even if Schmidt called the police promptly at five, it would take them a long time to get rolling, and even longer to extract an admission from Pietro that the principessa was one of the conspirators. In fact, the chance was so dim as to be nonexistent. If I could have thought of any sensible alternative, I would have tried it.

John had launched into another speech. I turned my wandering wits back to him in time to catch the last part of it.

".... the memory of your courage and unthinking devotion. Fear not, my dearest, we will not die in vain. The minions of the law will avenge us, and as my last request I would like to compose a suitable epitaph, which I feel sure our gallant adversaries will have carved on our tombstone. 'They were lovely and beautiful in their lives, and in their deaths - '"

I might have known he would get carried away and go too far. Luigi finally caught on that he was being kidded. His face darkened ominously.

"You mock me!" he exclaimed.

"Impossible," said John. "I mean, I wouldn't dream of it, Luigi."

"The telephone," said Luigi. "Call. Bruno-"

Bruno let go of John, who promptly collapsed onto the floor. Luigi snapped out an order; Bruno picked John up and dumped him into a chair. Luigi pressed the gun to John's forehead.

"Do watch your words, love," said John.

There was nothing for it but to place the call. With the perversity of things in general, this one went through as smoothly as silk. I didn't even have to penetrate the impenetrable wall of Gerda's chitchat. Schmidt answered the phone himself.

"Ah," he squeaked, as soon as I had identified myself. "There you are, Vicky. Gerda told me you had called. I am sorry I was not here. What is the emergency?"

"Oh, it's still here," I said heartily, wis.h.i.+ng Schmidt's voice wasn't quite so shrill and penetrating. I wondered whether Luigi knew any German. The principessa probably spoke it quite well.

"You don't understand me," Schmidt said. "I hear you quite well; can you not hear me?"

"Oh, yes," I said, laughing hysterically. "I can hear you just fine. But I'm afraid you can't understand me."

"But it is an excellent connection."

"Oh, no, it isn't," I said.

"How is the case proceeding?"

"Not too well. You might even say disastrously. At the moment, that is."

"I am so sorry," Schmidt exclaimed. "But I have great faith in you, Vicky. You will solve it; I know you will."

I felt like biting the telephone. I had been as direct as I dared. I thought of referring obliquely to Herr Feder of the Munich police, but I was afraid to risk it; the principessa might know who he was, and Luigi was already uneasy; he was mouthing suggestions at me from across the room, and the muzzle of the gun was pressed so hard against John's head that it dented the skin. John didn't dare move, not even his lips, but his eyes were eloquent.

"It's all right," I said feebly. "I - good-bye, p.o.o.psie. Auf Wiedersehen. I hope."

The phone clattered as I put it back onto the stand. My hands were shaking.

"p.o.o.psie?" Luigi repeated incredulously.

The principessa stirred.

"It is the name given him by his intimates," she said.

It took me a minute to realize what she had said, and what it meant. She met my surprised stare with a slight shake of her head. Her back was to Luigi. Her lips silently shaped a word.

I put a hand to my forehead.

"Oh," I said weakly. "I feel so strange. I think I'm going to faint."

It wasn't all an act. My knees were getting very shaky. I couldn't see what good this was going to do, but at least Bianca was on our side. Maybe she had something in mind. Mine was an absolute blank.

I fluttered lithesomely onto the sofa, and Bianca bent over me.

"She is ill," she exclaimed. "My smelling salts, Luigi - in my bathroom cabinet. And fetch a blanket from the closet, she is in shock, I think."

"Bruno-" Luigi began uncertainly.

"No, I will not have that ape touching my things! Give him your gun, if you don't trust me."

I didn't dare open my eyes, but my ears were tuned to their highest pitch. After a suspenseful moment Luigi trotted out of the room; his light, athletic footsteps could not be mistaken for anyone else's. As soon as he was gone, the principessa began to speak soothingly, as if she were trying to bring me out of my faint. But she spoke German.

"There is only one hope. We must fetch the count here. He is at the palazzo, in Rome. Think."

I groaned artistically, and muttered in the same language, "The boy hates his father. What good-"

"These thugs - there is another man, in the hall - they will obey their master. All this happened last night after I had drugged Pietro. It was a mistake, I admit it; but they were willing to take orders from me until the boy defied me. It is a feudal feeling, you understand. He is the heir. If we can reach Pietro, he will not-"

In her distress she slipped, and mentioned a name. "Pietro" sounds the same in any language. Bruno cleared his throat.

"Why do you speak of the master? Do not speak. I do not trust you."

"She is delirious," Bianca said. "She asked for the count; she could not believe he would let this happen. You know, Bruno-"

"I obey the young master," Bruno said sullenly.

"But he has not told you to injure the signorina," John said suddenly. "He has gone to get medicine to help her. Hark - I think she calls me!"

"John," I moaned obediently. "Oh, John-"

"There, you see? Don't shoot, Bruno, old chap, I'm just going to hold her hand." He dropped to one knee beside the couch. At close range his face looked even worse. "The Fernsprecher Fernsprecher, you b.l.o.o.d.y idiot," he said tenderly. "Mio tesoro, mein Liebchen..."

He broke off abruptly as Luigi came trotting back.

"What is going on?" he demanded. "Bruno, you let them speak, you let them-"

"You did not tell me they could not speak together," Bruno exclaimed.

"Never mind. You, Smythe, back to your chair. Here are the smelling salts. Is she-"

"I'm better now," I murmured. The incredible young creature was bending over me, looking genuinely worried. I smiled at him. "Thank you, Luigi. You are kind."

He helped me to sit up and hovered anxiously while Bianca waved the smelling salts under my nose. I sneezed.

"You are very good," I said, blinking at Luigi. "I know you don't want to hurt me, Luigi. I can't lie to you. I respect you too much. That call to Munich... it wasn't the important call. There is someone else I must reach. If I don't call him, he will open the envelope I left with him."

"Who? A lawyer?" Luigi asked. "The police?"

"A lawyer," I said.

"Then call him. Now. Quickly."

I dragged myself up off the couch and went with faltering steps toward the phone. Then a thought hit me, and I really did falter. I didn't know the number of the palazzo.

I turned a horrified face toward John, who had returned to his chair and was watching me intently.

It might not have been ESP, just plain common sense. But ever since that moment I've had a sneaking, half-shamed belief in thought transference. John folded his arms and began holding up fingers.

Thank G.o.d we're on the decimal system. I don't know how we would have managed with a system of twelves, like the Babylonians used. All eyes were on me, so n.o.body noticed John's contortions, which were done with considerable skill. The only number that gave him any trouble was nine.

The system worked fine, but I dialed slowly, because I needed time to think. There were so many obstacles to be overcome. The first one was the fact that Pietro probably wouldn't answer the phone himself.

He didn't. The voice was that of his butler, very smooth and impersonal. Obviously I couldn't ask for Pietro.

"This is Signorina Bliss speaking," I said slowly. "I am calling for Sir John."

Luigi, who had recovered his gun from Bruno, looked at me suspiciously. I smiled and nodded at him. After all, he couldn't know what arrangements I had made with the fict.i.tious lawyer. It was not surprising that I should mention John's name.

The butler might or might not be in on the plot, but he certainly knew about John.

"Sir John?" he repeated, forgetting his dignity. "Is it Sir John Smythe that you speak of, signorina?"

"That's right."

"But then you will wish to speak to his Excellency."

"That's right too."

"I will call him. Please to wait, signorina."

"Thank you," I said, trying not to gasp with relief. I turned to Luigi. "The secretary is calling him to the phone."

"Be very quick," said Luigi suspiciously. "No tricks."

He pointed the gun at John, who folded his arms and tried to look inconspicuous.

Then the familiar high-pitched voice came on.

"Vicky? Vicky, is that you?"

"Yes, that's right; Signorina Bliss. I am with Sir John." Pietro started to splutter. I raised my voice and went on talking. This was the dangerous moment. There was a chance Luigi might recognize the familiar paternal shout. "No, everything is fine; we're having a drink with Bianca and some people she knows, having a nice time.... You must meet her some time, she's anxious to meet you. I can't talk now; my friends won't let me."

I hung up and smiled brightly at Luigi.

Perhaps he had half recognized Pietro's voice, or perhaps he was affected by the tension that gripped the rest of us. He scowled.

"That did not sound right," he said. "If you have tricked me, signorina..."

"I wouldn't do that," I said. "I admire you too much. Luigi, I wish you would tell me how you learned to do goldworking. You are such an all-around genius; just like Cellini, only better."

This time the flattery didn't work.