‘Right as rain. Not much looking forward to seeing you again. But she’s gone off into the night – armed.’
‘You know Alice, Jackie?’ George was unbelieving.
‘Yes. ’Fraid I do! Oh, my Lord, I knew all this would catch up with me! Never thought it would be you, old man, who brought the blade down on me, though. I say – is there any way of keeping this under our hats?’ He looked anxiously at the door again. ‘I wouldn’t like His Excellency to find out his aide is a bit of a bounder.’ He grinned sheepishly. ‘I’d have to kiss goodbye to my evenings at the opera and the ballet and the gallery openings. And I enjoy all that sort of thing enormously. I’m sure he’d understand if I explained it all in my own words and in my own time . . . I mean – we’re not Puritans here – we’re men of the world, don’t you know! The gossip would soon burn itself out . . . in fact, my image might even be burnished in some people’s eyes . . .’
Bonnefoye could keep silent no longer. ‘Bloody English! Is this the understatement you are so proud of, Sandilands? Six deaths in three days, your own life in danger, Sir George a candidate for the guillotine and the perpetrator confesses he’s a bit of a bounder! Well – rap him over the knuckles and let’s be off, shall we?’
He got to his feet in disgust.
Joe joined him, shoulder to shoulder.
‘No joke, Pollock,’ he said stiffly. ‘Alice has told us how you took over her business and turned it sour. Used it as a base for a very hideous assassination bureau. I don’t think you were involved in any way in the Louvre murder – except as a man casually caught up by circumstances – but I do believe that you learned from that episode . . . were inspired by it . . . recognized there a service that was not supplied by anyone else. You could name your fee. No client could complain about the outcome without condemning himself. Absolute security. You became Set.’
Pollock slumped in his seat, lost in thought. Finally he waved them back to their chairs. ‘I think you’d better hear this,’ he said, heavily.
‘I fetched up here in . . . what was it, George? . . . 1923. I liked my employment. I’m good at what I do. Round peg in round hole. Ask anyone. Only two things I missed, really.’ He looked shiftily at Joe. ‘Yes, you’ve guessed – the cricket. But apart from that – female companionship. I had a mistress . . . or two . . . in Egypt, my last posting, and I was lonely here in Paris. Yes – lonely. They do things differently here.’ He smiled. ‘Oh, lots of commercial opportunities, street girls, chorus girls available. Not my style. I like women, Sandilands. I mean, I really like them. I like to talk with them, laugh, swap opinions, have a nice hug as well as the more obvious things.
‘I met Alice at the theatre one night. She spilled her drink on my shoes in the bar. Scrambled about on the carpet with her handkerchief, trying to make all well. One of her tricks, I was to discover later. Who can resist the sight of a beautiful, penitent woman at his feet? She took my address, saying she wanted to write a note of apology. She was swept off at that moment by a large and protective gentleman. You can imagine my astonishment when, next day, a box arrived for me. Containing a wonderful pair of shoes. My size – she’d established that much while she was down there. And much more expensive than any I could have afforded. I was flattered, intrigued, drawn in . . .’
Bonnefoye stirred impatiently.
‘Upshot was – I met her for tea. She told me about herself . . . quite openly . . . and the way she made a living. I was interested. I went along and approved. And then I realized what she really wanted me for.’
‘Go on.’
‘Contacts! I was to be her opening into the diplomatic world.’ He paused, reflecting, and then smiled his boyish smile again. ‘Not quite the teeming pool of skirt-chasers she had anticipated, varied lot that we are here! But I liked what she had to offer. I liked Alice! I became a regular customer. And, I had thought, until you burst in here with your hair-raising and ludicrous stories, a friend. I trusted her. I had thought we were very close. How could she? I don’t understand . . .How could . . .?’
To Joe’s horror, he saw the blue eyes begin to fill with tears and looked tactfully away.
‘My poor chap!’ said Sir George. ‘Many suffered similarly in India. Ask Joe! We all learn that the woman keeps no friends. She is totally self-interested. Unscrupulous.’ He turned angrily on Joe and Bonnefoye. ‘Now do you see what we’ve done? Jack is not one of your criminal insen-sitives, you know.’