Count Axel Fersan, who was employing his very considerable brain to counter the physical attractions of his younger rivals, had decided to allow them to expend their powder and shot, since he was reasonably certain that Camilla enjoyed playing with all three of her suitors so much that she would not get engaged to any of them before the voyage was nearly at an end.
Little as he had in common with Nicky therefore, he buttonholed him after lunch in order to give the Roumanian his chance. Prince Vladimir took it and rushed Camilla off to have another look at the bathysphere since that was at the secluded end of the ship.
No sooner had they reached the stern than he shot one contemptuous glance at the big ball and said: “So we do divings in that round iron house eh? Wait here and we will talk of pleasant things far more.”
Then he disappeared among the masses of machinery, to return a few moments later, red faced and breathless from his haste and the fear that one of the others might find Camilla on her own, with a pile of cushions and rugs. These he spread carefully on a few feet of open deck and with a smiling bow invited her to be seated.
Camilla was an artist at reclining gracefully and now she disposed her delicious limbs to their utmost advantage on the couch he had prepared; but her charming pose was rudely disturbed a second later for, with amazing speed and dexterity, he suddenly snatched at both her shoes and pulled them from her feet.
“Vladimir!” she exclaimed sharply.
He only laughed and his great deep healthy booming merriment drowned the hissing of the waters as they foamed from the screws, beneath the bathysphere, out into the white wake of the ship.
“You escape me not at all—now or hereafter,” he declared. “Prisoner most precious I have you mine.”
“Vladimir don’t be stupid,” she smiled. “Give me back my shoes.”
He shook his dark curly head. “Not so, while I have you are compelled here to repose. Also your feet so small are godlike to behold. I could eat them for pleasure,” then suiting the action to the idea he took one in his great fist, and carrying it up to his mouth, bit her big toe.
“Vladimir!—you idiot! Stop I say!” Camilla insisted, but she felt a sudden thrill run through her as, releasing her foot, his white teeth flashed in a quick smile, and he declared:
“This voyage I shall persuade you of myself and we will make happiness together. When we are so put, I will bite you all over.”
“We are not going to be ‘so put’. You’d better understand that Prince,” she said a little nervously. “I don’t approve of that sort of thing unless people are married.”
“But you have me misunderstood,” he protested, and his black velvet eyes stared into her with sudden seriousness. “As my wife I will bite you all over—not before. Think upon it—all the happiness we will make morning, noon and by night.”
“Is that another proposal of marriage?”
“Why yes. I am to you loving with desperateness. Take then my homage heartfelt so deep. The rank which should be by right with your so marvellous beauty I delight to give. Think of it. Prince Vladimir Renescu and his Princess. No couple so handsome would be in Europe. Young marrieds, as you say, very rich, very chic—everywhere most welcome. Also any man who speaks that you are not the most beautiful woman in the world—I strangle with these two fists.” He held out his leg of mutton paws.
Camilla smiled and shook her head. “I can’t decide just yet. Nicky and Count Axel both want me to marry them too.”
He shrugged his vast shoulders. “Count Axel is a man of rank but not enough—also he is old. He must be fifty at the smallest, and he could not make happiness as I, who have no fatigues—ever. As for Nicky—no. You could not. He is one indivisible cad. Presently I kick him in his so colourful pants.”
“You will do no such thing. You’d find Nicky a dear if you tried to understand him.”
“For me that can never be. I am a Prince and he is a cad,” declared the Roumanian with simple logic.
“You are a snob,” smiled Camilla lazily, “but nevertheless I like you Vladimir—awfully.”
“You like me eh!” His black eyes sparkled as he bent above her. “In that case—by crikey—we will kiss.” And they spent the remainder of the afternoon that way.
After tea Vladimir tried to follow up his advantage but Camilla refused to be drawn away from the forward deck. Slinger had organised a deck-tennis tournament and, in the intervals between sets, those who were not playing either watched the others or the waves peacefully dissolving one into another on the limitless expanse of ocean.
Despite the sea’s apparent emptiness there was always something of interest to observe. A school of round-backed porpoises leaping and diving as they ploughed their way to the south-eastward across the bows of the ship; a huge solitary sea turtle, floating idly in the waves, far from his home upon the Moroccan shore; the fate of a bucket of refuse that one of the cooks shot without warning from the galley below, and the graceful swoop of the screaming gulls from the mast-head as they dived to secure the floating crusts. Cocktail time came and went, then the party dispersed to change for dinner. The lazy hours of the day had drifted pleasantly by as they are apt to do in fair weather upon a ship at sea.
Dinner was cheerful but uneventful and after the meal Count Axel, pursuing his subtle policy of letting his rivals do their worst, suggested bridge. He knew that neither Camilla nor Nicky cared for the game whereas Vladimir not only prided himself upon playing a fine hand but being a born gambler in addition could not resist the lure of a pack of cards.
The Prince hesitated only a second. He did not consider that he had anything to fear from Nicky. It was inconceivable to him that his so beautiful Duchess could seriously contemplate marrying the crooner; whereas he regarded the clever, polished, Count Axel, whose age he exaggerated, as a really dangerous competitor. If the Count was willing to tie himself to the card table for the evening why should he not do likewise and enjoy his favourite recreation. Immediately he learned that Sally and the McKay were willing to make up a four, he agreed at once.
Slinger, as usual when his presence was not required, tactfully disappeared upon his own concerns so Nicky, quite unaware that Count Axel had arranged matters for his especial benefit, shepherded Camilla out on to the starlit forward deck.
“Sing something for me Nicky,” she said as soon as they were settled.
“No,” he shook his smooth fair head, “let’s talk. I’ve got a heap of things I want to say to you.”
“Presently. Sing something for me first. They’ll be cooped up in there over their bridge for hours—so we’ve got lots of time.” Her voice held a gently intimate note which flattered him. One of Camilla’s many great attractions as a woman was her ability to make anyone whom she wished to please at the moment think that she really wanted to be with them all the time.
“All right,” Nicky agreed and sitting on the deck at her feet, his hands clasped round his knees, he threw back his head and began to sing.
Some people like listening to crooners. Obviously many people must, for the records of the theme songs from Nicky’s pictures sold in their millions all over the world. Camilla certainly did, and lay back with half closed eyes savouring to the full the primitive emotionalism of “Dear Baby God Gave Me I’m holding your hands”, and “In all the world Mother—there’s no one like you”. Not so the McKay, who fifty feet away in the deck lounge, trumped his partner’s trick, apologised and muttered fiercely: “God! how I’d like to tan that youngster’s hide.” Prince Vladimir only smiled darkly, recognising that it is impossible to sing and make love at the same time. He felt that he had less reason than ever to fear Nicky as a rival and that he had been wise to settle to his beloved cards while Camilla amused herself with her pet clown.
Ordinarily Nicky was extremely averse to giving free performances either in private or public. For one thing he very wisely took the greatest care of his voice, and for another he quite seriously thought of himself as the successor to Caruso who had developed
his talents in a slightly different field. Having once got going however he did not stint his numbers. The soft night air, the illusion of being alone with Camilla on the face of the great waters, the ceaseless hissing of the wavelets as they rustled past the ship’s bows, the faint starlight, all worked upon his artistic temperament and as time slipped by he sobbed out song after song with ever increasing pain and emotion. Suddenly he ceased and buried his face in his hands.
“What is it Nicky?” Camilla enquired gently.
“I love you,” he muttered, “I’m miserable because I love you so.”
“Are you?” Camilla smiled. “But I like you Nicky—awfully.”
“Then why won’t you marry me,” he shot out sullenly.
“But my dear—I said I’d think it over.”
“Words! words!” he exclaimed tragically, now visualising himself in the role of betrayed lover. “Camilla, you’re driving me to despair. I love you! I want you! We were made for each other. What is it that has come between us? You were so sweet to me only two nights ago—and now—” he paused dramatically as though choking on a sob.
“Nicky dear, I haven’t changed I—”
“Don’t lie to me! Not that! I couldn’t bear it!” he interrupted, passing a hand across his eyes as all the old clichés from a hundred parts he had played in the past came tumbling from his tongue. “Tell me the truth. I’m brave and I can bear that although life will never be the same again. I’m not a Prince. I’m not even a Count. I’m only a man who has worked his way up from nothing—I know that—but I love you Camilla. I love you more than words can say.”
“Dear Nicky,” cooed Camilla happily, allowing her hand to rest lightly on his bowed head. She was very gentle about it though knowing that he hated to have his fair, slightly wavy hair disturbed or ruffled.
He turned and caught her hand, bringing it quickly to his lips as he instinctively changed his role to that of the Other Man who has just come into the life of the woman with the drunken husband. “Camilla—dearest—you must leave all this! Let’s go away together! I’ll take care of you—I swear it! We’ll start life anew. Just you and I in some place where no one knows us. It will be heaven to have you with me always. Poor little girl you’ve had a rotten deal—but I’ll make up to you for everything.”
Nicky had got himself so wrought up by this time that he made the unfortunate mistake of unconsciously dropping into the lines of his last big part which Camilla recognised. Angrily she jerked her hand away, and cried: “I haven’t had a rotten deal and I don’t want to be taken anywhere.”
“Ah!” Nicky stared at her with a pained look as she hurried on: “In another moment you would have broken into your theme song and I don’t care about being made fun of that way.”
Just as though a bucket of ice cold water had been slung over him Nicky came out of his highly emotional state. The hard practical side of his nature reasserted itself instantly and he saw that he had slipped up badly. Without the flicker of an eyelid he passed from unconscious to conscious acting and gave a sad little laugh.
“Camilla how can you be so unfair to me just because I happened to use the same words to you that I had in that fool part. In this case I meant them. You have had a rotten deal and I would like to take you away from all this.”
“I don’t quite see what you mean,” Camilla confessed intrigued despite herself.
“Why all this money you inherited. Money’s not everything you know.”
“Oh that.”
“Yes. It prevents you knowing who your true friends are. Surely you don’t think this Roumanian Prince and Count Axel would be running after you if you hadn’t got a cent—do you? And I’m sorry for you Camilla. Sorry to see you deceived by all this flattery and hypocrisy just because of your wealth. That’s why I’d like to take you away because I know that we could be happy together even if we were poor.”
“I don’t think I’d care much about being poor,” said Camilla doubtfully.
“Well not poor exactly. My expenses are mighty heavy. Advertising costs a lot and my business manager takes a pretty useful cut but I’d have enough to keep you with all you’d need outside a yacht. That’s what I’d like to do, and I’d be a sight happier if you hadn’t got this great pile of cash.”
“Would you really, Nicky?”
“Sure I would. Besides I hate to see you wasting your life among this crowd of spongers—doing nothing. You’re worth better things than that. I’d like to see you doing something, making a big name for yourself you know.”
Camilla’s blue eyes brightened. “D’you think I could Nicky. How would I do that?”
“Why in the film game of course. There’s not a girl in Hollywood that’s got half your looks.”
“That’s the one thing I’ve always longed for—to be a film star,” she said dreamily. “But it’s no good—you see I can’t act.”
He shrugged disdainfully. “You don’t have to. Film stars are not born but made these days. It’s just a matter of a little preparation and a first class director does the rest.”
“Is that true—really? Do you think then that someone would take me on and make me a star?”
He shrugged again. “They might, but the competition’s something frightful and most of the big men have their own axe to grind when they’re out picking stars. However—” He paused feeling that now was the time to bring up his heavy artillery and produce the scheme he had hatched for his own benefit while holding out the bait of fame to dazzle her.
“However—what,” she prompted leaning forward.
“Well. There’s no denying that big money has its uses now and then. In this case for instance—say you set your mind on becoming a star. What’s to prevent you forming a company. I’ve made a useful packet and I’d put in all I’ve got. If we were married we could go some quiet place for a six months honeymoon where it would be fun instead of work for me to teach you all I know—and I know plenty. Then we’d get Markowitz to tune you up before directing you in a real big picture where we’d play opposite each other. Camilla if you were really game to do your bit by this time next year you could make Garbo come off her silent stunt and scream with jealousy.”
For a moment Camilla sat spellbound, fascinated by the supreme crown to a lovely talentless woman’s ambition that Nicky was offering her. Then a gay voice broke in behind them.
“Have you any more so marvellous stories, Nicky, for the cocks and bulls?”
The bridge party having just broken up, Prince Vladimir had come silently across the deck and caught the drift of Nicky’s last sentences.
Furious with indignation Nicky stumbled to his feet and confronted the Roumanian.
“You damned eavesdropper! Get to hell out of here!” he cried, his face dead white his hands clenched but trembling.
Vladimir’s teeth flashed in a contemptuous grin. “Hold your peace whippersnap,” he sneered, “or with one fist I will lift you overboard.”
“You lousy wop!” screamed Nicky temporarily blinded to fear by his almost maniacal anger at having had his attempt to get control of Camilla’s fortune exposed and ridiculed.
The Prince’s eyes suddenly went blacker than the night, his smile became fixed and terrifying. He lifted one huge fist.
“Stop!” Camilla threw herself between them as the McKay seized Vladimir’s arm from behind.
“How dare you,” she stormed at the Prince. “How dare you start quarrelling in front of me.” Then she swung on Nicky. “You’ve been abominably rude—you’d better apologise I think—both of you to each other.”
“All right, I’m sorry,” muttered Nicky sullenly.
The Prince shrugged. “In deference to my hostess I express regret.”
Camilla turned to Count Axel, who was standing by, and almost instinctively took his arm. “Why is it,” she asked sadly as he led her back to the lounge, “that those two cannot remain civil to each other for five minutes?”
“Alas Madame,” Count Axel’s tone was fil
led with pained regret, “the Prince is still very young and unfortunately possesses a most unreliable temper coupled with very few brains; while Nicky has the misfortune to have been deprived during his youth of those social advantages which are, after all, the most important part of a gentleman’s education.” Thus, in one sentence, Count Axel disposed of any headway which his rivals might have made during the day.
The following morning the weather was again bright and clear. The sea, if anything, was even smoother, and the rise and fall of the water in the canvas swimming pool barely reflected the slight pitch of the ship as she held steadily on her course.
Camilla had not quite forgiven Vladimir. She did not resent his interruption of her tête-à-tête the night before so much as his tactless assumption that the possibility of her outgarboing Garbo, if she put her mind to it, was a story for cocks and bulls. Nicky did not put in an appearance when the rest of the party assembled round the swimming pool at ten o’clock. He was still under the impression that the Prince had shown him up for the fortune hunter that he was and unaware that Camilla’s vanity had been so tickled by his proposals that she had failed to see his obvious self interest at the bottom of the scheme. As he remained, like Achilles, sulking in his tent, Camilla selected Count Axel for the target of her smiles.
Feeling that he had many days before him the Count did not seek to press his advantage in the least but slim, supple and enchanting in her sunbathing suit she came to sit beside him after they had had their swim.
“You are neglecting me shamefully Count,” she declared. “I hardly saw you yesterday.”
“Madame that was my loss,” he inclined his scholarly head in a little bow, “but we have all to-day before us. Let me see if I cannot win your good graces by suggesting a new entertainment for you.”
She liked the way he called her Madame. It lent her the dignity that she was never quite sure that she possessed. Smiling at him as she dangled her long legs over the side of the pool she said: “Now’s your chance then Count. I’m all for new amusements.”
“You will give me your promise then to play this game with me?”
They Found Atlantis Page 7
