by Helen Wells
“I think so.” Cherry adjusted the binoculars. His too-small head came into focus. “Yes, it’s Marco.” Cherry handed Val the binoculars.
“Look what they’re doing!” Val said in an astonished voice. The two far below were swapping poles. “Marco looks much taller than Toni. He can’t use Toni’s poles. And Toni can’t use Marco’s.”
“You’re right. How very strange that they should exchange their ski poles….”
“Quick! Look!” Val thrust the binoculars into her hand. “What’s Toni handing Marco now?”
Through the binoculars Cherry saw a flash of something small and green, and the tall man and Toni studying it. Then she saw Marco carefully put it inside his jacket. Cherry said:
“I think it’s the notebook with the Milan addresses. So that’s it! Val, how far is Rosalia from Milan?”
“About thirty or forty miles by car.” Val took the binoculars from her again. “Even round trip, it’s not far. Why?”
“Because if there is a secret chain of people reaching to Milan, Marco is the relay man. But where does the chain start?”
Val snapped to attention. “Look, Toni and Marco are leaving! We had better keep them in sight.”
Even without binoculars, Cherry could make out Marco and Toni, the tall and the short, walking across the uneven field. At the southern edge of the field they shook hands. Then Toni, still carrying his skis and the swapped pair of poles, hiked off on the trail in the direction of the funicular railway.
“He’s not going to ski back,” Val murmured. “He’s going to return to Eagle’s Peak the fastest way he can.”
The trolleylike funicular railway would take Toni nearly into Rosalia. From there, Toni could ride buses and cog railway as Cherry had on Friday.
They watched Marco lay down his skis and Toni’s poles on the ground with care. For fifteen minutes he waited, looking through the notebook part of the time, kicking idly at the earth, consulting his wrist-watch. Evidently Marco and Toni did not want to be seen together; he was giving Toni time to descend into Rosalia and there catch a bus. Then Marco picked up his skis and poles and lumbered off in the direction of the funicular railway.
“We’ll take a completely different route home ourselves,” Val said. “We don’t want to meet Toni at any of the stations. Sometimes there’s a rather long wait and we might meet. Our route will be rather roundabout, I’m afraid.”
Cherry nodded. They turned their backs on Rosalia. As they started to ski cross-country, pushing along with their poles, Cherry faintly heard church bells pealing down in the village.
On the way back, Cherry asked Val about Le Solitaire Mountain. That was where he and Joe Wardi had spotted Toni, injured after a spill last Sunday.
“That’s on the far side, the east rim of mountains across our home valley,” Val said.
“Where had Toni been going, on—or via—Le Solitaire Mountain?” Cherry asked. “He couldn’t have been to Rosalia that day.”
“That’s true. I have no idea where he was going.”
The stars were coming out when Cherry and Val returned to the cold brilliance of Eagle’s Peak and trudged into the Chateau Nicholas.
Mama Nicholas greeted them in the downstairs hall. “How was the snow today? Powdery?”
“Yes, beautiful ski snow, Mama.” Val set down his skis and poles just inside the supply room, and relieved Cherry of hers. Val turned his head sharply, raising his voice so Toni would hear. “There’s nothing like spending a fine Sunday on the slopes, eh, Toni?”
Toni was coming out of his room and locking his door farther down the hall. For an instant he looked startled, then jauntily joined them.
“I just did an errand for your mother at the pharmacy at Morten,” Toni said.
Val threw him a black look. “What, no skiing today?”
“Oh, sure!” Toni said. “I was up on Mont d’Argent this morning. I really enjoyed myself.”
On Val’s face Cherry saw anger and disappointment with Toni. Mama Nicholas’s eyes dilated as she sensed their tension, and she excused herself. Toni immediately scampered off.
Cherry and Val stood looking at each other. Finally she said, “It’s been a long day, hasn’t it?”
“I suppose it’s better to know the truth,” Val said. He pretended to examine a thread in his sweater. “But I’d like to know the whole truth.”
Cherry glanced around the supply room, even though she knew Toni jealously kept his skis and poles in his own room. She was greatly puzzled about those swapped ski poles.
“We’ll dig out the whole truth,” she promised Val.
CHAPTER VIII
The Mysterious Prisoner
AT DAYBREAK THE NEXT MORNING CHERRY HEARD someone pounding on the front door of the chateau.
“Open the door! Val! Nurse Cherry!”
Cherry sleepily thought she recognized the voice as Joe Wardi’s. She jumped out of bed, put on some warm clothes and slippers, and ran out of her room into the upstairs hall. Mama and Papa Nicholas, in their nightclothes, already stood at the stair landing. They were watching Val, below, unlock and open the big door.
The mountaineer spoke to Val, who turned and called:
“Cherry! Can you come? It’s an emergency—”
Cherry joined them in the empty, silent dining room. None of the staff or guests were up yet. Mama bustled into the kitchen to make coffee for Joe Wardi. Strong though he was, he looked tired to the bone. Papa, after one glance at the mountaineer, brought him a glass of brandy.
“What happened to you, my friend?” Papa Nicholas asked.
Joe Wardi sank down on a chair and drank the brandy. “Thanks. I am all right. Only tired. The men in our climbing party are all right, too.” He handed back the drained glass and looked questioningly at Cherry. “I came to you first, miss, because I do not want to bother the doctor unless you say it is necessary. Well! We found a man being held prisoner—I think he is a sick man—”
“Prisoner!” Val said. “Where?”
“Possibly you exaggerate?” Papa suggested.
The mountaineer shook his grizzled head. “A prisoner, and no mistake.” Between sips of coffee, he told them how he, another mountaineer, and three men visitors had climbed Le Solitaire Mountain on Friday. “It was a good ascent, the familiar route”—Val and Papa both nodded—“only one ice field to cross this time. We reached Spirit Mountain the next day, Saturday, and—well, you know, climbing that mountain wall is not so easy.”
Cherry was fixing in her mind’s eye the location of Le Solitaire Mountain. It stood directly east of this village and opposite Mont d’Argent where everyone skied. She was not sure, though, of the location of Spirit Mountain and had to ask.
“Spirit Mountain is south and a little east of Le Solitaire,” Val said. “Spirit Mountain almost touches the Swiss-Italian border.”
“Near what town, near the border?” Cherry asked.
“Ah!” Mama Nicholas sighed. “Near where Papa and I spent our honeymoon! Near Lugano.”
Lugano…. In Cherry’s memory there rose up the blue lake of the Italian-Swiss resort, ringed by green mountains that soared into the great, icy Alps.
“About the prisoner,” Joe Wardi said impatiently.
“Excuse me.” Cherry blushed with embarrassment. She hadn’t meant to let her attention get sidetracked. “You say the man may be sick?”
Papa Nicholas interrupted. “First let Joe tell us where—and how—”
“We climbed up to the Blue Castle,” Joe Wardi said. “It is very cold, very lonely in those ruins. A place for eagles, or herds of cows and goats. Not fit for men, not in winter. Two of our visitors, photographers, wished to explore around the castle ruins. That is how we came to notice smoke and then to find the hut.”
“A herdsman’s hut?” Val asked.
“Well, I should better say, not a hut, but a small farmhouse. In the summer,” the mountaineer explained to Cherry, “a few dairy farmers live up there with their flocks. This fa
rmer and his wife, they stayed on. Who knows why? No one would stay unless forced to! Or unless someone paid him very well to stay.” Joe Wardi thoughtfully rubbed his chapped hands. “The farmer and his wife are there now, with the prisoner.”
“But why do you believe the man is a prisoner?” Val asked.
“Because this man has no coat, no shoes, no skis—so he whispered to me,” Joe answered. “And he does not know where he is! You know Spirit Mountain has almost no tracked trails,” Joe said. “This is why he does not dare try to escape. He would get lost. He would die of exposure. Being a Swiss, he realizes this.”
“How were you able to get into the farmhouse and talk with the poor man?” Mama Nicholas asked.
Joe said that he and the other guide had gained entry only for a very few minutes, and only because they bought their way in.
“We were astonished, and very curious, to find anyone living on Spirit Mountain! We bribed the man with money; we gave the woman food and tea from our rucksack. I think they are short on provisions.”
“Short of food, with a sick man there?” Cherry said.
“You can’t expect to get adequate food supplies late in the fall on a seldom-traveled mountain,” Val said. “Joe, what else did the man—the prisoner—tell you?”
“The farmer heard him whispering to me, and stopped him. The farmer said—” Joe Wardi frowned, remembering. “‘Your friend said you need to rest!’ And the man answered, ‘He is not my friend!’ But then the man is so tired and weak, so helpless there, that he said, ‘Let it go.’”
“Is he sick in bed?” Cherry asked.
“In a chair. But so weak, maybe he should be in bed. He seemed very thirsty, too.” Joe Wardi looked over Cherry’s head to the dining-room doorway. “Hello, Toni. I did not see you come in.”
“I’ve just been standing here one or two minutes,” Toni said and his voice trembled. His eyes were like dark holes in his pale face.
“Why, Toni, what’s the matter?” Papa Nicholas asked. “Have you seen a ghost? Or do you just need a good, hot breakfast? Come, everybody! You, too, Joe! A quick breakfast, then we will—”
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Nicholas,” Cherry said respectfully. “It might be best if we consult Dr. Portman right away. Acute thirst, along with weakness, could be symptoms of some serious illness. Val and Joe, please? May we telephone the doctor now?”
They followed her out into the lobby to the desk telephone. As they left the dining room, Papa Nicholas was saying to Toni, “—on Spirit Mountain. Can you imagine it!”
Toni’s bitter answer jarred Cherry. “I don’t want to hear about Spirit Mountain or talk about it! Excuse me, Mr. Nicholas, but that’s a cruel mountain. I hate Spirit Mountain.”
Why? Cherry wondered. Why so vehement, almost in tears? Toni seemed to be almost at a breaking point. Val had not heard; he was busy trying to reach Dr. Portman on the telephone. She remembered that Toni had been found injured and alone on Le Solitaire Mountain. Le Solitaire was flanked by Spirit Mountain. Where had Toni been that Sunday?
Well, she’d have to think through this point later. Val said Dr. Portman was on the phone.
Dr. Portman was puzzled and troubled by the report Joe Wardi gave on the phone. The mountaineer went to the clinic with Cherry and Val, and described the details of the man’s condition for the doctor. But Joe’s information was scanty.
“That man could be sick with any of several diseases,” Dr. Portman said. “If he is being inadequately fed besides, he’s in trouble. Joe, about that farmer and his wife—are they taking care of the man?”
Joe shrugged. “They give him something to eat and keep him indoors, Doctor. They are simple, ignorant people. If you mean medicine, or nursing, I saw no medicine. But I do not know for certain.”
Dr. Portman was worried. So was Cherry. They discussed whether to relay Joe Wardi’s report at once to the police—sketchy though it was. All that seemed certain was that the farm couple were paid employees, not principals, in some evil scheme.
Finally the doctor said, “Let’s notify the police after we take care of our patients this morning. Two in particular need care, and making this report with Wardi could cause a serious delay. I think that man Joe found can safely wait another day.”
Cherry and Val walked back to the chateau to have a quick breakfast. In an hour Val’s classes, individual students, and his two instructors would be waiting for him. When Val and Cherry re-entered the dining room, Toni stood at the big sideboard coaxing and arguing with Papa Nicholas.
“I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t important, Mr. Nicholas! Terribly important! Just give me tomorrow off, just this one time,” Toni pleaded.
“Is it truly such an emergency?” Papa Nicholas was softening.
“Yes! Urgent!” Toni insisted. “Just tomorrow off, and I won’t ever ask again!”
Val said coolly to Toni, “You didn’t mention that you’d make up the time, did you?”
“I will! I will! Except not Sunday,” Toni said. Val and Cherry exchanged a flicker of a glance. “I’ll work every evening until midnight, to make up the time!”
Toni fretted, standing first on one foot, then the other, waiting for permission.
Papa Nicholas gave in. “Very good, my boy, yes. Take tomorrow if you need to. Who has the Paris morning newspaper? Madame Sully likes to be the first to read it.”
Toni said, “I’ll find it and take it to her. Thank you, Mr. Nicholas!” Toni rushed away.
A little later Cherry went upstairs to go to her room. As she walked along the dark upstairs hall, she heard angry, low voices, coming from Madame’s room. Her door stood ajar. Cherry saw Madame Sully brandishing a tightly rolled newspaper, trying to whack Toni with it. He defiantly jumped out of her reach.
“You will do as you are told!” Madame whispered furiously. “If you don’t follow orders, we’ll both be in trouble!” Her rolled newspaper caught Toni in the face.
Cherry sprang back as the door suddenly swung wide open. Toni burst into the hall, glaring back into the room, and said:
“All right! All right! I’ll follow orders, you fat old has-been!”
Cherry heard Madame’s muffled cry of rage. Toni hurried off down the hall muttering to himself, too embroiled to notice Cherry flattened against the shadowy wall.
What a relief to enter her own room! Cherry changed from her woolen dress into a white uniform, and then walked in the crisp morning air to the hospital.
“It’s like waking from a nightmare,” Cherry thought.
She paid careful attention to Dr. Portman planning their morning’s work.
“I have to visit our new patient, Mrs. Jean Davies, at her hotel. She had a severe nosebleed during the night and called me to stanch it. Then I’ll go see how Billy’s hepatitis is today.”
Cherry would accompany and assist the doctor. He telephoned Mrs. Barth, asking her to stay at the clinic during the hour or so they would be out. Elderly Mrs. Barth was not highly skilled at nursing, but she was kind and dependable. In case an emergency arose, she would telephone the doctor at his patients’ residences.
Midway through the call at Mrs. Davies’ house, her nosebleed started again. Dr. Portman needed more sterile gauze. Cherry offered to go back to their hospital, pick up gauze, and bring it to him.
Mrs. Barth was talking reassuringly and loudly on the telephone to a rather deaf patient when Cherry entered the small hospital. She and Cherry smiled at each other, and Cherry went into the supply room. She stopped, shocked.
Toni was searching furtively among the shelves in the refrigerator. He hadn’t heard her coming in because of her rubber-soled shoes.
“You have no right to be in here, Toni Peter!” Cherry exclaimed. She was alarmed and angry. “Medicines are dangerous in a layman’s hands. Why are you in here? What are you looking for?”
Toni’s skinny body shook as if he had a chill. His hands twitched so badly that he nearly dropped a vial of liquid. Cherry snatched it away and looked
at it.
“Insulin! What do you want with insulin, Toni?”
He pressed his lips tight shut.
“I wish you’d tell me,” Cherry said quietly. “If someone takes too much or too little insulin, it can make him terribly sick—even kill him.”
Tears glittered in Toni’s hard eyes. “I only want to—to help someone.”
“All right, Toni, we’ll help whoever it is.”
“It’s that man—” The boy turned away to the wall. He could not face her. “It’s that prisoner Joe Wardi found. I know him. I mean, I don’t know his name, but I’ve been bringing him insulin.”
So the prisoner had diabetes! Cherry knew how serious that disease could be. Insulin and carefully prescribed diet are crucially necessary to keep the patient well and able to lead a useful life.
Cherry asked anxiously, “Toni, has that man enough insulin to last until you—or someone—can bring him more?”
“I think he has enough to last a week or two. Unless he took more. Next Sunday I’m supposed to bring him another supply. Please tell me something.” Toni turned to face Cherry. “You’re a nurse. You know about these things. Tell me—will he die if he doesn’t get insulin?”
“He might.” Cherry sighed. She forbore to say that being “short on provisions,” as Joe Wardi had reported, meant wrong diet. If long continued, that could soon lead to infections, even coma and perhaps death. Emotional stress could be very dangerous, too.
Toni sat down, dazed, on a stool. Cherry put the vial of insulin back into the refrigerator, saying:
“Dr. Portman and all of us won’t let him die. We’ll do our best to save him.” Now she understood why Toni, when found injured, had been located on Le Solitaire Mountain. He had been delivering insulin to the hut on adjacent Spirit Mountain.
“Tell me, Toni, did you bring that man insulin from our hospital supply?”
She did not recall that any insulin was missing but she could be in error, and there were other diabetic patients to provide for.
“No,” Toni said, “when I went on errands, I bought insulin from the pharmacy in Morten. Not with my own money—I don’t earn much. But now I can’t buy insulin there any more.”
