There are no large hotels in Corinth and, when they drove up to the one they had selected from the guide-book, they found no one in its small entrance hall. But there was a bell-push on the desk and, after Robbie had pressed it three times, a middle-aged woman, who said she was the manageress, appeared from the back premises. Robbie told her they might be staying several nights, and asked for the best rooms available. She summoned a waiter to carry their bags and led the way upstairs to the first floor.
Evidently Robbie's Greek had let him down on this occasion, for the manageress ushered them both into a pleasant room with a fine view over the bay, but only one large double bed in it.
Robbie turned scarlet, and for a long moment was entirely bereft of words. Turning, he saw that Stephanie had put a hand up that only half concealed a smile of amusement at his embarrassment. Hastily, he stammered to the manageress that she had misunderstood him; they were not married and wanted separate rooms. Leaving Stephanie there, he swiftly retreated to the corridor and was duly taken to a smaller chamber on the upper floor.
Ten minutes later, they were refreshing themselves under a vine-covered pergola with large tumblers of iced orange juice. After a short stroll along the waterfront, they returned there for lunch and, just as they were finishing the meal, Robbie said:
'Presently, I shall be going out on the job again; but I don't expect to be away long.'
Stephanie raised her eyebrows. 'You might have told me that you meant to go looking for more trouble here.'
T hope I won't get into any,' he smiled. 'But this happens to be one of a dozen places at which the Czech firm is going to try to muscle in on us; so I ought not to miss the opportunity of making a few enquiries.'
'All right then,' she smiled back. Til resign myself to spending a lonely afternoon on that lovely double bed. I'll be thinking of you.'
When she had left him, Robbie sat staring into his empty coffee cup. Could she possibly have meant . . . ? But no, she was not that kind of girl. He positively must not allow himself to imagine such things.
15
The Villa Dione
At a little before four o'clock Robbie hunted out the manageress and asked her about the estate agents in the town. She said there were three or four, but that one of them handled nearly all the most important business, and gave him the firm's address. He then walked round to their office, presented one of the cards of the United Kingdom Petroleum Company, and asked to see the senior partner.
He was shown in at once to their Mr. Vassilios, a dapper little man who bowed him to a chair, offered him a cigarette and smilingly asked his business.
Now accustomed to 'telling lies in the service of his country', Robbie said that his firm was contemplating setting up an oil installation in the neighbourhood of Corinth, and that he would like to have particulars of any suitable properties that were available.
Scenting big business, Mr. Vassilios was instantly galvanized into enthusiastic activity. He produced a list of building sites and estates that were for sale, and offered there and then to take Robbie in his car to see any that appealed to him.
Having looked through them, Robbie remarked that only two of the properties had access to the shore, and that was essential in order that a wharf could be built off which the Company's tankers could lie. He then added casually: 1 take it that if my Company decided to buy either of these the mineral rights would go with them?'
Mr. Vassilios's dark eyes gave a sudden flicker. 'You spoke, Mr. Grenn, of an installation. I naturally assumed you had in mind a refinery with storage tanks. Do you mean that your Company intends to bore for oil?'
'We might,' Robbie admitted guardedly.
'Then it is true!' exclaimed Vassilios excitedly. 'I thought another client of ours quite mad some weeks ago when he bought a property here to prospect for oil. But if your Company also believes that there is oil in the neighbourhood of Corinth, it must be so. This is most wonderful news, both for all of us in this city and for Greece.'
Robbie smiled a little dubiously. 'I wouldn't count on that, Mr. Vassilios; not until those other people or my firm have struck a gusher.'
The little man sighed. 'Alas, Mr. Grenn, I regret to disappoint you. It will not be your firm. These first-comers—they are a Czech company—have already spiked your guns. They have secured a concession from the Greek Government for the sole right to prospect for oil. If you acquire one of these properties you could build anything you wish on it, but you would not be permitted to drill.'
Making an appropriately glum face, Robbie said: 'Then I fear I have had my journey from Athens for nothing, and I'll have a very unwelcome report to take back. Without prospecting rights, my Company would not buy; so I am afraid there is no point in my going with you to see either of these properties.'
'I am indeed sorry.' Mr. Vassilios sighed again at this abrupt end to his prospects of handling a very profitable deal.
As Robbie stood up to go, he said: 'If you've no objection, I'd like to know the site these other people have chosen for their operations.'
'None at all.' A large map hung on the wall behind Mr. Vassilios' desk. He pointed to a tiny black square near the shore, just to the west of the town. 'That is it; the Villa Dione. It is a property of about four hectares, mostly orchard and vineyards.'
Having thanked him, Robbie was politely bowed out, very pleased with himself at having hit first go on the agent who had acted for the Czechs, and secured the information he required.
As Corinth is quite a small town and the villa was only just outside it, he decided to walk there right away. Twenty minutes later he halted on the coast road to have a good look at it. The building was large, square and looked to be about a hundred years old. Evidently it had long remained unoccupied, for the short drive, seen through rusty iron gates, was overgrown with Weeds, and the yellow paint was peeling from the outside walls,
The house and about an acre of ground behind it were enclosed by six-foot walls. Along that nearest to Robbie ran a cart-track, so he walked a little way up it to get a look at the back of the house. When he had gone about sixty yards he came upon a postern gate in the wall and, on his trying it, he found that it opened.
Slipping inside, he took a quick look round. The garden, which was mainly an orchard of orange, lemon and apricot trees, and the back of the house appeared to be deserted. As he turned to close the door behind him, he noticed that there was a key in the lock. On trying it, he found that it worked easily, which implied that it was locked at night. Taking out the key, he slipped it into his pocket.
He had hardly done so when an unshaven man, dressed like a peasant, emerged from a nearby outbuilding, stared at him for a moment, touched his cap and said:
'Good evening, sir. I suppose you are one of these Czech gentlemen who have taken the villa. But I wasn't expecting any of you till tomorrow.'
Obviously the man was the caretaker, and for a moment Robbie was at a loss for a reply. Then an excuse came to him and he said with a smile: 'I didn't know the villa had been let. I am looking for a place to rent for the summer months. Seeing the house was empty, I just looked in. Sorry to have bothered you.'
That's all right, sir,' the man replied amiably. 'Have a look round if you like.'
Robbie thanked him, accepted his offer and spent the next twenty minutes making a tour of the house. It was furnished, but only very sparsely. There were damp stains on the walls and, no attempt having yet been made to clean it up, a layer of dust over everything. From his inspection he learned nothing of the Czechs' intentions but, in the circumstances, he had not expected that he would.
Afterwards, knowing how sensitive Greek peasants are about accepting money, and wanting to give the caretaker a tip, he asked if he might buy a few of the big, ripe oranges. To that the man readily consented, and found him a paper bag in which to carry the fruit back to the hotel.