“Yes — with much regret. It’s been great fun, kids, but I must get back to real life. It’s a bit hard to find it here in Austria.”
“You cannot believe that,” Frankie said.
Her eyes were big and full of meaning. Her perfume smelled expensive and expensively exciting, which just about summed up Frankie. It struck Simon that it might have been very pleasant to linger awhile in this opera bouffe country where dreams and reality were hard to distinguish and often were the same thing.
“Oh, I know we’ve seen some real death,” he said. “But that isn’t exactly what I meant.”
“You really did risk your life,” said the girl softly, “and I want to thank you for saving mine.”
“Think nothing of it,” Simon replied with careful lightness. “I’m always rescuing beautiful damsels in distress. I’m only sorry I’m not so good at saving necklaces.”
“But you are!”
The Saint frowned.
“I must be a bit dense,” he said. “But you’ll have to explain that.”
“You did save the Hapsburg Necklace. The real one.”
Simon felt that if Frankie hadn’t lost her mind, he must be losing his. And Leopold’s face testified that he was in the same condition.
“When was that?” Simon asked, with the kind of patience one employs to humour a maniac.
“Ever since you got me out of Schloss Este.”
“And where is it now?”
“In a vault at Schöllers Bank. I put it there today.”
“Do you mind telling us how, when and where you got it?” asked the Saint, with superhuman restraint.
“In Schloss Este, where I told you it was.”
“But how?” demanded Leopold, almost frothing at the mouth.
“Very simple. It was in the dungeon where it was supposed to be.”
“And the fake necklace?” asked the Saint. “Was that there too?”
She made a moue.
“Don’t be silly. I took that with me, to be stolen, as I knew it might be.”
The Saint inhaled long and deeply.
“Where did you hide the real one?”
“Attached to a cord around my waist, under my last petticoat”
At last he could only laugh.
“Well, we almost got down to it, didn’t we?”
Leopold was shaking and his face had gone from red to white.
“You made a fool of me. That is one thing we Denksdorffs never permit.”
Frankie’s smile was wicked.
“Perhaps your family motto should be ‘We only make fools of ourselves.’ ”
The Saint felt sorry for the young man. Frankie was being unnecessarily cruel.
The arrival of their first course, and the opening and tasting of a bottle of Willm Gewurztraminer, made a sorely needed interlude.
Frankie herself must have realised that she risked going too far. As soon as the waiters had dispersed again, she said: “Darling Leopold! You are behaving like a hero in a romantic novel.”
He gave her a look which was filled with both love and hate.
“And you are behaving like a spoiled child!”
“I do think it’s time you stopped tormenting us,” Simon intervened peaceably. “So you were smart enough not to trust anybody. I can’t say I blame you. But I’m sure it wasn’t Leopold you were afraid of.”
“I knew all along that Max was out to get the Necklace,” she said.
“But it was you who introduced him to me,” Leopold said.
She shrugged.
“Everyone in Austria knows he’s a crook. Everyone but you, mein Liebchen. You are the original pure knight on a white charger. You do no evil and see no evil. But Max is a showpiece. That is why he is so popular in Austria. We like amusing rogues.”
“But why did you allow him to become our partner then?”
“He was just the man I wanted. ‘Set a thief to catch a thief’ is an old proverb. But that works in another way too. You could say ‘Set a thief to steal something!’ Max had all the skills, crookedness, money and organisation that I needed. He lent us all of them — nicht wahr?”
The Saint could not help admiring this girl. She had caused him a lot of trouble but she certainly had what it took. It might indeed be pleasant to find out what it did take with her, just so long as he gave away nothing himself.
“You could have told me,” Leopold said angrily.
“Yes, and I was afraid that if I did, my dear cousin, you might let the cat out of the bag. You are so impetuous.”
“But what made you so sure that in the end you would be more clever than Max?”
“I was not altogether sure at first.” Frankie’s smile was shamelessly gamine. “But after I had the Saint on my side, I was sure.”
Simon’s admiration for this girl deepened. She was confirming much of what he had guessed, but he did not know many women who would have had the nerve and the gambler’s instinct to act in the almost Saint-like way that she had all along.
He raised his glass to her again.
“I’m glad I was around,” he murmured. “Well, so we go our various ways. And what’s yours?”
“I’m going to the Semmering for a bit of skiing,” she replied. “Wouldn’t you like to come?” she added, batting her eyelashes at him provocatively.
“I’d love to, but with Schicklgruber in the saddle there may be more serious things to think about.” He turned to Leopold. “And what are your plans?”
The young man’s eyes were wide and almost desperate.
“I am going to marry Frankie,” he announced thunderously, as if he were an archduke declaring a bazaar open. “She needs to be settled down.”
“I hope you can do it for her,” said the Saint. “I can’t imagine a better match. The fact that she is twenty years older than you shouldn’t be any handicap at all.”
Leopold looked at him in amazement.
“What do you mean? We are practically the same age.”
“All women are twenty years older than any man.”
Frankie blew Simon a kiss.
“Except you.” Her eyes met the Saint’s steadily. “I wonder if you will meet Max Annellatt again one day. He would certainly be disguised.”
“I’ll still recognise him,” said the Saint, “if he’s wearing his old school Thai.”