Suddenly he seemed to go cold all over and his big hands began to tremble. He had seen the writing a score of times. It was that of Marak Krajcir, the manager of the Czech Travel Agency.
20
No Holds Barred
For a full minute Robbie sat stunned, holding the letter in his hand and staring at it. During the whole of the time they had been together, Stephanie had made no reference to any Czech except when they had been talking of his own investigation. She had never mentioned Czechoslovakia or any wish to travel. Then what possible explanation could there be for her receiving a letter from Krajcir?
Having asked himself that question, Robbie's brain temporarily stuck. Then the awful thought that had come to him when he had first recognized the writing on the envelope returned with renewed force. Could it be . . . No, that was utterly unthinkable. And yet . . . how else could one possibly account for her being in communication with his enemies?
His heart seemed to turn over inside him, and he suddenly felt sick. It simply could not be true that Stephanie was betraying him. Why should she? What had she to gain? She was not a Czech, but was half Greek and half English. Money apparently meant little to her for, on several occasions when he had tried to press a generous wage upon her, she had refused to accept more than one or two hundred-drachma notes. She always said that the holiday she was having amply repaid her for driving him and that it would be time enough to give her more money when she had done some work on his book. Besides, while he did not regard it as remotely possible that she had, in secret, the same feelings for him as he had for her, she had shown great concern for him when he had gone into danger, and had treated him with a warmth of friendship that could almost be said to be affection.
And yet ... ?
After another long minute of soul-shaking agitation, he decided that he must find out for certain. He had never spied on other people, let alone opened a letter addressed to someone else. But unless he resolved this horrible doubt once and for ail, how could they possibly go on together? Their lovely companionship, their carefree laughter, those long talks about his beloved Immortals in whom she seemed to share his interest, their planning of things to do that would fill other happy days, those delightful dinners during which he could gaze his fill at her every night across the table—how could they be resumed as long as suspicion of her motives never ceased to nag at his mind?
Had he been a professional secret agent, he would have gone to the kitchen and given the chef a handsome tip to let him steam open the letter over the spout of a kettle. Then, if his worst suspicions had been realized, he would have re-sealed the letter, given it to her and beaten her at her own game by acting a part while she remained ignorant that he knew the truth about her. But by nature he was far too straight-forward to adopt such finesse, even had he thought himself capable of carrying it off. As it was, the idea never occurred to him, or how he should try to excuse himself if he opened Stephanie's letter, found some innocent explanation for it, and had to give it to her afterwards. Unable to bear remaining in ignorance of its contents another moment, he ripped it open.
The letter it contained had neither opening nor signature. It was typed on a single sheet of thin paper and was in Czech. At the sight of the language, Robbie shut his eyes. Sickly, warm saliva ran in his mouth. With an effort he swallowed it, opened his eyes and read:
N. is pleased with you. Since there was no way in which you could prevent him from taking the photographs, it was an excellent idea to render the film useless by opening the back of the camera. Had you stolen and destroyed the film, that would have revealed that we have him under observation, and he might even have suspected you. As he remains in ignorance of the fact that his visit to Pirgos is known to us, it seems likely that he will make a second attempt to get photographs of our plant there. Now that he is showing a greater inclination to confide in you, it should be easier for you to find out his plans in advance, and it is of the utmost importance that we should be informed if and when he decides to go to Pirgos again, so that we may be ready for him. N. says that as he shows such persistence, we now have no alternative to putting him out of the way for good, and another visit by him to Pirgos would provide an excellent opportunity. As soon as you have anything to report, ring Pirgos 8721. A day and night service has been installed, so at any hour there will be someone there to receive your call.
Robbie's eyes misted over. It was really true then. She was working for the Czechs. She might even be one herself. As the letter was in Czech, she must know that language; so the odds were that she was. If so, that would explain a lot of things: for one, her ignorance about Greek mythology; for another, her blue eyes and the fact that her colouring was much lighter than that of the great majority of Greek women—although he had put that down to her story that her mother was English. Then there was the curious accent with which she spoke Greek. He had attributed that, too, to her associations with England, although it was sufficiently marked for him, a foreigner, to have noticed, and it should not have been if she had spent all but her early childhood in Greece. He thought it probable now that her accent was much more noticeable to the Greeks than to himself, and that it was unlikely that she had ever been in England. To tell him that she had been brought to Greece when still a child had been a clever precaution, enabling her to say, should he attempt to check up on her, that her memories of England were only very vague ones.
But how cleverly she had deceived him from the very beginning. He closed his eyes again and winced as he thought of the way in which he had taken as gospel truth her story that she, a woman of twenty-four, was being forced into a repugnant marriage and that, if he did not take pity on her, she could see no alternative to becoming a hostess in a Piraeus night club. In this day and age, it was so highly improbable that only a simpleton like himself would have believed it.
As he opened his eyes again, he caught sight of her passing some remark to the page boy, who was holding the door of the lounge open for her. Stuffing the letter into the pocket of his jacket, Robbie stood up. Next moment she was coming towards him, smiling her usual morning greeting.
Somehow he found his voice and, to his surprise, it sounded quite normal as he automatically made his usual response— hoping that she had had a good night and was looking forward to their swim.
As he picked up his swimsuit and towel, she remarked how lucky they were that the weather still remained so lovely; then, side by side, they left the lounge and walked down the broad staircase out into the sunshine.
Robbie's brain was still racing. He knew now why it was that the Czechs had been waiting for him in Corinth and why, after he had escaped from them, he found her about to drive off with Barak. He knew, too, why she had constantly pressed him to confide in her. Should he blurt out his discovery here and now, and charge her with her perfidy? No; there were other guests from the hotel about, making their way down to the ruins. It would not do to start a blood-row within their hearing. Better to wait until they reached the river. They passed the little museum and descended the slope to a bridge that spanned one of the tributaries of the river. As they walked along she chatted away lightly, first about a group of Germans who were a little way ahead of them, then about the Jacksons. She said that on the previous night, before going to bed, she had returned to the lounge to get a magazine, and had run into Ursula Jackson, who had asked her how long she had known Robbie, and several other vaguely leading questions. She added with a laugh that she was sure that charming lady had not accepted Robbie's statement that he was a business man and herself his chauffeuse-secretary, but believed them to be lovers enjoying an unofficial honeymoon.