‘That’s all very fine, Joe, but your next sentence is going to start with the word “but”. Am I right?’

‘Yes,’ said Joe reluctantly, ‘you’re right. But there is something there I can’t get hold of. I’m absolutely convinced that there is some connection between her and Korsovsky. I believe there is some connection between her and Reggie Sharpe and Edgar Troop. I’m increasingly of the opinion that Troop knows a very great deal more about these killings than he is saying.’

Joe explained his suspicions concerning the .303 rifle.

As he spoke a procession entered the room. A tray bearing a bowl of soup, a chapatti, a cold roast grouse and, on the side, a green salad.

‘I guessed,’ said Sir George, ‘in the light of your busy evening that you hadn’t had anything to eat. Will this do you? There’s a good Stilton out there – shall I send for it?’

‘No. This’ll do me fine,’ said Joe. ‘Absolutely fine.’ And he continued his account.

‘I have a very strong feeling that some part of the secrets arise and are connected with the Beaune railway crash,’ he said, telling Sir George about the newspaper he’d found in Korsovsky’s luggage. ‘Alice remembers practically nothing about it. She was knocked cold by the first impact apparently but remembers coming round in hospital in Beaune. It’s always been said that she was the sole survivor and so she believes but we’ve discovered that that’s not true. According to Le Matin, there was a British officer on the train, name of Simpson, very badly wounded in the war and badly damaged in the crash. We’re trying to run him to earth to see what he has to tell us. Probably nothing to the point.’

‘Well, well,’ said Sir George. “That’s something, in spite of my impeccable information service, that I didn’t know! One more survivor, eh?’

‘And I have one other possible source: she’s not exactly a survivor, nor yet is she a witness, but there is someone who may have some information that is of value to us… I’m referring to Marie-Jeanne Pitiot. She’s right here in Simla.’

‘I know who you mean. Frenchwoman – another one. Runs a dress shop. Very successful, I believe. Why might she know anything about it?’

‘She’s probably the person who knows Alice better than anyone, I’m told, and she was with her right after the crash that seems to have had such significance for Korsovsky. I’m planning to call on her. Not quite sure how I can question her without seeming to breach Alice’s confidence, but there it is.’

I’m confident that you will handle the interview with aplomb,‘ said George. ‘You’ll find La Belle Epoque couldn’t be more different from the other French-run place in town! Height of elegance. Everything above board. Best clientele. Marie-Jeanne Pitiot has always seemed a bit mysterious to me, though,’ he added.

‘The ex-nurse?’

‘Yes. Seems a well-bred sort of woman. Good Catholic family, I understand. Parents wanted her to be a nun. That wasn’t Marie-Jeanne’s intention at all and they compromised on nursing. Rather a plain girl – gawky, that’s the word. I gather that marriage was not seen as much of an option.’

‘Has she kept up her friendship with Alice since they arrived here?’

‘Oh yes, I’d say they were very thick. She seems always to be on hand to support Alice in her more tense moments. She was with Alice at the shooting competition last year the day young Conyers was killed and it was Marie-Jeanne, I couldn’t help noticing, not Reggie to whom Alice turned for comfort when they broke the news of Lionel’s death. Now finish that up and have a glass of port. I’ll join you. We might go into the library – it’s rather more comfortable in there. Koi hai!’

They carried their glasses into the other room.

‘I like this room,’ said George. ‘More friendly. The rooms on the floor above, of course, are supposed to be for entertaining but you can’t really relax with a fifteen-foot ceiling, at least I can’t. Take the big chair by the window, have another glass and tell me, if you can, what possible motive do you ascribe to Edgar Troop? Why would he want to shoot Conyers and why Korsovsky? What gain could there possibly be for him unless you’re going to suggest that somebody employed him to do the dirty deed. (That’s not impossible, by the way.)’

‘I hadn’t told you that I suspected Edgar Troop but I won’t deny it – I do! It may simply be because I think he’s a nasty piece of work and I know that oughtn’t to influence me but it does. He’s just the sort of man I don’t like though I have to admit that he answered all Charlie Carter’s questions with manly frankness.’

‘Don’t kid yourself that you saw the whole of Flora’s establishment,’ said George. ‘I understand it goes for miles. It’s one of the oldest houses in Simla. It climbs the hill, it goes into the hill, they tell me – “caverns measureless to man” you might say. I think there are about six exits; there may be as many as thirty rooms. Impossible to raid even if you wanted to. I haven’t been worried about the place. You might say it serves a useful social function and gives no cause for concern – at least until recently.’

‘Recently?’ Joe asked.

‘There’s a very faint suspicion,’ said George. ‘We’re not far from the frontier here and, of course, smuggling is a way of life, smuggling anything – gold, firearms, women. It’s as old as the frontier itself but just lately it has seemed as if it’s been not only more widespread but better organized. There are an awful lot of rifles washing about in the world – British Army surplus, French Army surplus, German rifles (much in demand) – the demand has always been there and now you might say the supply has caught up with it. And the collapse of the Turkish Empire has had its effect and the Arab states – not so meticulous, not above a little slavery, it would appear.’

‘And if you had to pinpoint the marketplace for all this trade in Simla you’d say – Flora’s?’

‘It’s a possibility.’

Joe frowned. ‘Everywhere I turn in this investigation I confront – at the end of the passage as it were – an elegant, cooperative and even talkative woman. Eager to tell me all. And each with a faithful if mysterious gentleman friend in the background. Note this – we have Alice so eager to help, with the faithful Rheza Khan waiting in the wings to do her bidding. There is likewise the friendly but notably shady Flora, supported as far as we can tell by the no less shady Edgar Troop. And let’s not forget Claudio who will, we are assured, be prepared to fetch and carry. And linking the two we have the determination on the part of both of them, it would seem, to push Troop off the back of the sledge into the jaws of the pursuing wolves – that’s you, me and Carter!’

Chapter Eleven

«^»

It was early on Wednesday morning and Carter looked as though he’d been at his desk for hours. He was bubbling with information. ‘Lots to report! Sit down, Joe, and hear this! Koi hai! We’ll have some tea, please. And bring us some of those little Greek pastries.’

Carter’s welcome washed around Joe and he wondered whether the time would ever come when he would not feel the need to question it. His fast rise to his present high position in the force had engendered suspicion and jealousy on the part of his colleagues in England and he had learned to ride the waves of mistrust and misunderstanding using only the strength of his ability to support him. His record spoke for itself. But here was a provincial policeman with no knowledge of Joe’s past successes, his outstanding war record, his good family connections, accepting him for what he was – a fellow professional working to the same ends as himself with no suggestion of backbiting or rivalry.

Joe settled down for a happy exchange of information.

‘Worst things first, I always say. So here’s the bad news.’ Carter handed a telegram to Joe. ‘Korsovsky’s agent – G.M. He’s out of the country. We sent our telegram to his Paris office but they say he’s on his way to Prague. They’re sending it on. Do they have telegram facilities in Prague, do you suppose? Where is it anyway?’