`If you're a woman you can act,' he retorted. And that is what she did during the luncheon to which they soon sat down. On her right was her host, and she carried on with him a laughing flirtation, which amused and flattered him; and with her neighbour on the other side, who was an expert on Italian art, she talked of the Sienese painters. Society in Florence is not very large and several of the people were there who had been at the dinner the night before. Princess San Ferdinando, who had been her hostess, was on Atkinson's right This occasioned an incident which nearly robbed Mary of her composure. The old lady leant across the table to address Mary.
`I was just telling the Count about last night' She turned to Atkinson.
`I'd asked them to come and dine at Peppino's to hear a man who's got a marvellous voice and, would you believe it, he wasn't there!’
`
`I've heard him,' said Atkinson.
`Mrs. Atkinson wants me to pay for his training. She thinks he ought to sing in opera.
`Instead they had the most awful fiddler. I talked to Peppino. He says he's a German refugee and he only gave him a chance out of charity. He said he wouldn't have him again. You remember him, Mary, don't you? He was quite impossible.’
`He didn't play very well.’
She wondered if her voice sounded as unnatural to the others as it did to herself.
`That's putting it mildly,' said the Princess.
`If I played the fiddle like that I'd shoot myself. Mary felt she must say something. She gave her shoulders a little shrug.
`It must be very difficult for people like that to find anything to do.’
`It's a bad business,' said Atkinson.
`Young chap, was he?”
‘Yes, hardly more than a boy,' returned the Princess.
`He had quite an interesting head, hadn't he, Mary?’
`I didn't pay very much attention to him,' she replied.
`I suppose they have to dress them up in those absurd clothes.’
`I didn't know he was a refugee. You know, now I feel rather badly about it. I suppose it's because I made such a fuss that Peppino said he'd fire him. I wonder if I could get hold of him, I might give him two or three hundred lire to carry on with till he finds another job.’
They went on talking about him interminably. Mary shot a distressed glance at Rowley, but he was at the other end of the table and did not see her. She had to cope with the situation , alone. At last, mercifully, the conversation changed. Mary felt exhausted. She continued to talk of one thing and another, to laugh at her neighbour's jokes, to feign interest, to seem to enjoy herself; and all the time at the back of her mind, so vividly that it was like seeing a play on the stage, all the events of the previous night, from beginning to end, unfolded themselves before her tortured memory. She was thankful when she was at last able to get away.
`Thank you so much; it's been a lovely party. I don't know when I've enjoyed myself more.’
Mrs. Atkinson, white-haired, kind, shrewd and with a dry humour, held her hand.
`Thank you my dear. You're so beautiful, you make any party a success; and Harold's had a grand time. He's a terrible old flirt.’
`He was very nice to me.’
`And so he should be. Is it true that we're going to lose you soon?' Mrs. Atkinson's tone showed Mary that she was referring to Edgar. Perhaps the Princess had told her something.
`Who can tell?' she smiled.
`Well, I hope what I hear is true. You know, I look upon myself as a great judge of character. And you're not only beautiful, you're good and sweet and natural; I should like you to be very happy.’
Mary could not help the tears filling her eyes. She gave the kind lady a wan smile and quickly left.
7
W H EN she got home a telegram, just arrived, was waiting for her: Flying back tomorrow. Edgar. The garden was terraced and there was one place in it for which Mary had a great affection. It was a little strip of lawn, like a bowling alley, surrounded by clipped cypresses, and on one side they had been cut into an arcade in order to give a view, not of Florence, but of an olive-clad hill on the top of which was a village with old red roofs and the campanile of a church. The spot was cool and sequestered and here, Mary, lying on a long chair, sought peace. It was a relief to be alone and .not to have to pretend. She could surrender herself now to her anxious thoughts. After some time Nina brought her a cup of tea. Mary told her she was expecting Rowley.
`When he comes, bring some whisky and a syphon and the ice’
`Very good, Signora.’
Nina was a young woman who liked to gossip, and she had now a piece of news that she wanted to impart. Agata, the cook, had brought it up from the near-by village where she had her own cottage. Some of her relations there had let a room to one of those refugees who swarmed in Italy, and now he had run off, without paying for his board and lodging, and they were poor people and could not afford to lose the money. He'd never had anything but the clothes he stood up in, and the things he had left behind him wouldn't fetch five lire. They'd let him owe money for three weeks because he was so simpatico, and they were sorry for him, but it was a dirty trick to bolt like that; it was a lesson and it just showed that you were never repaid for the kindnesses you did people.
`Where did he go?' asked Mary.
`He went out yesterday evening to go and play the violin at Peppino's - why, that was where the Signora dined last night; he said that when he came back he'd give Assunta money. But he never came back. She went down to Peppino's and they told her they knew nothing about him. He didn't give satisfaction and they said he needn't come again. But he had some money. You see, he got his share of the plate; one lady put in a hundred lire, and . . Mary interrupted. She didn't want to hear any more.
`Find out from Agata how much he owed Assunta. I - I don't like the idea of her suffering because she did someone a kindness. I will pay.’
`Oh, Signora, that would be such a help to them. You see, with both their sons doing their military service and earning nothing, it's a job they have to keep going. They fed him, and food's expensive these days. It's us, the poor people, who have to suffer for making Italy into a great nation.’
`That'll do. You can go now.’
That was the second time that day that she had had to listen to someone speaking of Karl. Mary was seized with terror. It looked as though that unhappy man, whom no one bothered about while he was alive, now that he was dead was in some uncanny way calling attention to himself. A remark of the Princess's recalled itself. She had said that because she had been the cause of his losing his job she wanted to do something for him. She was a woman of her word and would seek him out; and she was an obstinate woman; if she could not find him she would move heaven and earth to discover what had become of him.
`I must get away from here. I'm frightened.’
If only Rowley would come! At the moment he seemed her only refuge. She had brought Edgar's wire in her bag; she took it out and read it once more. That was a way of escape. She began to think intently. At last she heard her name called.
`Mary.’
It was Rowley. He appeared at the end of the grass plot and slouched towards her with his hands in his pockets; there was no elegance in his gait, but a lounging ease which in such a disreputable fellow would to some have seemed out of place, but which just then was strangely reassuring to Mary. He was entirely unruffled.
`Nina said I'd find you here. She's bringing along a drink that I badly want. Jove, it's hot walking up that hill of yours.’
He gave her a scrutinizing glance.
`What's the matter? You don't look any too good.’
`Wait till Nina has brought the drinks.’
He sat down and lit a cigarette. When Nina came he chaffed her gaily.
`Now, Nina, what about all these babies that the Duce says every Italian woman should provide the State with? It doesn't look to me as though you were doing your duty.’
`Mamma mia, it's hard enough to feed onesel
f these days. How am I going to feed half a dozen brats?' But when she was gone he turned to Mary.
`What is it?' She told him of the incident at luncheon when the Princess had spoken of Karl and what Nina had just told her. He listened attentively.
`But, my dear, there's nothing in all that to get the wind up about. Jittery, that's what's the matter with you. He thought he'd got a permanent job and got fired; he owed his landlady money. He'd promised to pay her and hadn't got enough. Supposing he's found? He shot himself and he had plenty of motives.’
What Rowley said certainly sounded reasonable. Mary smiled and sighed.
`I suppose you're right. I've got the jitters. What should I do without you, Rowley?’
`I can't think,' he chuckled.
`If we'd been caught last night - what would have happened to us?’
`We should have got it in the neck, dear heart.’
Mary lisped.
`You don't mean that we should have-gone to prison?' He looked at her with smiling ironical eyes.
`It would have wanted a hell of a lot of explanation, you know. Two English people careering round the country with a corpse. I don't quite see how we could have proved he shot himself. Either you or I might have shot him.’
`Why should you?'
'A dozen reasons would occur to the fertile imagination of a cop. We went off together last night from Peppino's. People tell me that I haven't got the best reputation possible where women are concerned. You're an almost perfect specimen of the genus peach. How could we have proved that there wasn't something between us? I might have found him in your room and killed him out of jealousy; he might have caught us in compromising circumstances, and I might have killed him to save your reputation. People do these damn-fool things.’
`You were taking a most awful risk.’
`Don't mention it.’
`I was so upset last night I didn't even thank you. It was frightful of me. But I am grateful, Rowley. I owe everything to you. Except for you I think I should have killed myself. I don't know what I've done to deserve that you should do so much for me.’
He looked at her steadily for a moment and then gave a good-natured, casual smile.
`My dear, I'd have done it for any pal. I'm not quite sure if I wouldn't even have done it for a total stranger. You know, I like risk. I'm not really a law-abiding person and I got a grand thrill out of it. Once at Monte I had a thousand pounds on the turn of a card, that was a thrill too; but nothing to this. By the way, where's the gun?’
`I have it in my bag. I dared not leave it in the house when I went out to lunch. I was afraid Nina would find lt.’
He stretched out his hand.
`Let me have your bag.’
She did not know why he asked for it, but passed it over to him. He opened it, took out the revolver and put it in his pocket.
`Why are you doing that?' He leaned back lazily in his chair.
`I take it that sooner or later the body will be found. I've been thinking it over and I believe that the gun should be found with it.’
Mary smothered a cry of fright.
`You're not going back to that place?’
`Why not? It's a lovely afternoon and I want exercise badly. I rented a bike. There's no reason why I shouldn't ride along the high road and then have an impulse to take a side one with the idea of having a look at that picturesque village on the top of the hill.’
`Someone might see you go into the wood.’
`I shall certainly take the elementary precaution of looking about to see that no one is around.’
He got up.
`You're not going now?’
`I think so. As a matter of fact it's not much of a wood; I didn't tell you last night, because I thought you'd get more scared than ever, and there was no time to look further. I don't think you can expect that he won't be found pretty soon.’
`I shall live agonies till I know you're safely back again.
`Will you?' He smiled.
`I'll look in on my way home. I dare say I shall be ready for another drink.’
`Oh, Rowley!’
`Don't be afraid. The devil's a sportsman and looks after his own.’
He went off. To wait for him now was a torture such that beside it all she had gone through before seemed trifling. It was no good telling herself that compared with the risk which they had taken last night this was nothing; that, at the moment at all events, had seemed inevitable, but this was needless; he was putting his head in the lion's mouth for the fun of the thing, because he was getting pleasure out A exposing himself to danger. She grew on a sudden angry with him. He had no right to do such stupid things; she should have prevented him. But the fact was that when he was there taking it all in that breezy, humorous way, it was almost impossible to see things in their proper light. She had a feeling moreover, that when he had made up his mind to do a thing it would need a great deal to dissuade him. A strange man. Who would have guessed that his flippant manner concealed so much determination? `Of course he's been hopelessly spoilt,' she said irritably. At last he returned. She heaved a great sigh of relief. You had only to look at him, strolling jauntily towards her, a mocking smile on his lips, to know that everything had gone well. He threw himself in a chair and helped himself to a whisky and soda.
`That's a good job jobbed. There wasn't a soul in sight. You know, it looks as though chance went out of its way sometimes to give the criminal a helping hand. There was a little bit of a trickle of water just at the right place. I suppose there's a spring there and that's why there's all that undergrowth. I dropped the gun in it. In a few days it ought to be in a nice state' She wanted to ask him about the body, but could not bring herself to speak the words. They sat for a while in silence while he indolently smoked and with enjoyment sipped his cold drink.
`I should like to tell you exactly what happened last night,' she said at last.
`You need not. I can guess the essentials and the rest doesn't much matter, does it?’
`But I want to. I want you to know the worst of me. I don't really know why that poor boy killed himself. I'm tortured with remorse.’
He listened without a word, his eyes, cool and shrewd, fixed on her, while she told him word for word all that had passed between her first sight of Karl, when he had stepped out of the shadow of the cypress, till the dreadful moment when the sound of the shot had startled her out of bed. Some of it was very difficult to tell, but with those steady grey eyes upon her she had an inkling that he would at once know if she concealed any part of the truth; it relieved her also to tell the story in all its shame. When she finished he leaned back in his chair and seemed intent on the smoke rings he was making with his cigarette.
`I think I can tell you why he killed himself,' he said at last.
`He was homeless, outcast, penniless and half-starved. He hadn't got much to live for, had he? And then you came. I don't suppose he'd ever seen such a beautiful woman in his life. You gave him something that in his wildest dream he could never have dreamt of. Suddenly the whole world was changed because you loved him. How could you expect him to guess that it wasn't love that had made you give yourself to him? You told him it was only pity. Mary, my dear, men are vain, especially very young men: did you never know that? It was an intolerable humiliation. No wonder he nearly killed you. You'd raised him to the stars and then you flung him back to the gutter. He was like a prisoner whose jailers lead him to the door of his prison and just as he is about to step out to freedom, slam it in his face. Wasn't that enough to decide him that life wasn't worth living?’
`If that's true I can never forgive myself.’
`I think it's true, but I don't think it's the whole truth. You see, he was unbalanced by all he'd gone through before, perhaps he wasn't quite sane, it may be that there was something else: it may be that you had given him a few moments of such ecstasy that he thought life after that could have nothing better to offer and so was willing to call it a day. You know, most of us have had mo
ments in our lives when our happiness was so complete that we've said to ourselves: "O God, if I could only die novel " Well, he'd had that moment and that feeling, and he died.’
Mary looked at Rowley with amazement. Was it really he, the mocking, happy-go-lucky, reckless tough, who said such things! This was a Rowley that she had never known existed.
`Why do you say that to me?’
`Well, partly because I want you not to take it all too much to heart. There's nothing you can do about it now. The only thing is to forget, and perhaps what I've just told you will enable you to forget without misgiving.’
He gave her the derisive smile which she knew so well.
`And partly because I've had several drinks and perhaps I'm a little She did not answer. She handed him the telegram she had received from Edgar. He read it.
`Are you going to marry him?’
`I want to get away from here. I hate this house now. When I go into my room it's all I can do not to scream with horror.’
`And India's a long way off.’
`He has strength and character. He loves me. You see, Rowley, I've been taken down a peg or two. I want someone to take care of me. I want someone I can look up to.
`Well, that settles that, doesn't it?' She was not quite sure what he meant. She gave him a glance, but he was looking at her with smiling eyes which betrayed nothing. She gave a faint sigh.
`But of course he may not want to marry me.’
`What the devil are you talking about now? He's crazy about you.’
`I must tell him, Rowley.’
`Why?' he cried, aghast.
`I couldn't marry him with this thing hanging over me. It would be on my conscience. I should never have a minute's peace.’
`Your peace? What about his peace? D'you think he'll thank you for telling him? I tell you everything's all right. Nothing can ever connect you now with the death of that wretched fellow.’
`I must be honest' He frowned.
`You're making a terrible mistake. I know these Empire-builders. The soul of integrity and all that. What do they know of indulgence? They've never had need of it themselves. It's madness to destroy his trust in you. He dotes on you. He thinks you perfect.’
Up at the Villa Page 7
