As he poured whisky into a glass, Preston Kile noticed his hand was unsteady, and he frowned. He shouldn’t be drinking this, he told himself. He was drinking too much these days. But what else could he do? A man must keep himself going somehow. He wasn’t sleeping well. There was a woolliness in his brain that alarmed him. He had felt it coming on slowly like a deadly, creeping paralysis over the past year. It was blunting his mind. It made thought an effort. At one time he had been able to make lightning decisions, and the right decisions at that. He had also been willing to take any risk, no matter how dangerous it had seemed. He had had a shrewd recklessness, if you could put it that way, that had carried him from a poorly paid desk job in a bank to a position that had made him the most feared man on the Stock Market. But that was two years ago. He had gone to pieces. He wasn’t the same man. His confidence had gone. He had lost his guts for a fight. Risks frightened him now. He found himself putting off making a decision until it was too late. And now, to worry him still more, there was this fantastic Rajah business.
He drank the whisky greedily, drained the glass and immediately refilled it. His heavy, bloodshot eyes moved to the mirror over the dressing-table, and he stared at himself.
Well, at least he looked as strong, handsome and ruthless as he had ten years ago when he was at the height of his career. Of course his hair was grey at the temples now, and he was getting a little thick around the middle, but his figure wasn’t bad for a man of his age. What was he thinking of? Age? Why, damn it, he wasn’t fifty-six yet! But at this moment he felt like an old, feeble man instead of a man in his prime. There was this dull ache under his heart. That worried him. He was afraid to consult a doctor: no news was good news. If his heart was bad, he didn’t want to know it. Probably indigestion, he told himself, his hand touching the smooth face of his evening dress shirt.
He took out a cigar-case from his inside pocket, hesitated, then put it back. Perhaps not just now. He was smoking too much. He would wait until Eve came out of the bathroom. What an interminable time she spent in the bath!
He sat down amid the confusion of her clothes. She had thrown them off, leaving them scattered on the bed and floor, saying she wanted to think, and she thought best in a bath. A beautiful woman like her had no right to think!
He picked up the sheer silk stockings and pulled them slowly through his fingers, thinking of Eve.
He had known her for two months. At first, he had thought of her merely as a woman to amuse him in his leisure moments. He had got rid of that dark girl — he had to think a moment to remember her name
– Cora Hennessey.
Eve had moved into the apartment five days later. He was glad to be rid of Cora. She had demanded so much of him. He supposed she was too young for him, and he frowned uneasily at finding himself admitting such a thing. But how she had tired him! A week of her, and his nights became something to dread. There had been no satisfying her.
She hadn’t been easy to get rid of, and it cost him much more than he could afford. She had gone eventually, taking his gold and diamond cuff-links, his cigar cutter, and the little jade statue of a naked boy he had bought in a San Francisco brothel, an amusingly obscene bit of carving, and which he valued. He wanted these things back, but it would mean going to the police, and just now he was particularly anxious not to attract the attention of the police.
His mind shied away from this unpleasant channel, and he began to worry about Eve. What an extraordinary girl! How completely mistaken he had been about her! He had imagined she was an empty-headed little beauty whose only asset was her body. For the first six weeks he had no reason to believe otherwise. Then suddenly he realised she had been lulling him into a position of false security while she had been digging into his private affairs. Her apparently innocent questions about his past and present mode of life hadn’t been, as he had thought, the idle chatter of an empty-headed blonde. She had been building up a picture of him until she knew him almost as well as he knew himself. She had managed to find out about his financial position. How she had got the information he couldn’t imagine.
He supposed a girl with her looks could find out anything if she made the effort. Someone must have talked: someone possibly at his bank.
She had surprised him horribly one night by saying in her quiet, cool voice, ‘What’s the matter with you, Preston? Why are you drifting like this? You could be making piles of money instead of loafing here with me. Have you lost your ambition, or what is it?’
Startled, he had told her abruptly he had no need to work.
‘I have all the money I want,’ he had said sharply. ‘I’ve retired from business. Besides, so long as I give you what you want, I really can’t see it’s any business of yours what I do.’
But that hadn’t touched her. She had gone right on confounding him.
‘Why do you lie to me?’ she had asked; her big blue eyes seemed able to see right inside his mind.
‘You don’t have to pretend with me. I want to help you.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said irritably. ‘I don’t need anyone’s help.’
‘You’re broke,’ she said calmly, and put her hand on his. ‘Already the tradesmen are talking about you. You owe thousands. Whatever money you did have, you’ve spent. Isn’t it time you did something about it?’
He had been so shocked that he had said nothing for some moments. True, he had immediately begun to bluster, but the expression in her eyes told him she was sure of her ground, and the bluster died sourly in his mouth. Instead, he tried to defend himself, though why he should make excuses to her he couldn’t imagine. After all, it was no business of hers. He could have told her to pack up and get out if she didn’t like him as she found him. But deep down, tucked away in his innermost being, Kile was afraid. He knew he was slipping. He knew unless a miracle happened, the slip would turn into a slide, and he would go down and down to the final crash where a revolver bullet would be his only way out.
There was something about this girl — not yet twenty-five, very beautiful to look at, detached and quietly determined — that gave him a sudden feeling of hope: something he hadn’t had for the past two years: not since they had told him to get out of the Stock Market or they’d prosecute.
He told her he hadn’t been feeling wel .
‘It’s not that I’m a young man,’ he said lamely. ‘Perhaps I’ve lived too hard. I’m burned out, Eve. Not for long, but right now, I’m tired and disillusioned. In a little while I’l begin again. I just want to rest.’
He could see at once she didn’t believe him, although she gave him a sympathetic smile.
‘I think I can help you,’ she said. ‘Something I happened to overhear…’
That was how he had been committed to this Rajah business. At first he had thought she was joking.
‘My dear girl,’ he had said, pat ing her long, sleek leg as she lay across his lap, her head against his shoulder, ‘I’ve never heard of such a thing. It’s fantastic, and there’s nothing I could possibly do about it. Even if I could, I don’t think I’d care to dabble in such a venture. It’s quite out of the question.
Besides, this Rajah wouldn’t want me to interfere.’
‘He might,’ she had said thoughtful y. ‘I think I’l ask him.’
Kile didn’t believe for a moment she would approach the Rajah. He had dismissed the whole thing from his mind, and he was startled when she told him a few days later that the Rajah would see them at his hotel that evening.
Immediately he had refused to go, but she had persuaded him.
‘At least let’s hear what he has to say,’ she had said, her face against his, holding his hand over her breast. ‘He may not agree. He may not offer enough. Even if he does agree and offers something reasonable, we don’t have to go through with it if we don’t want to. We can always say it wasn’t possible.’
Reassured by this argument, and a little flattered to be received by a Rajah, Preston allowed himself to be persuaded. The meeting had turned out far easier than he had expected.
It was pretty obvious that Eve had already laid a solid foundation for the interview. The Rajah said he would be delighted if they could help him recover the jewels. They were, he said, heirlooms of the utmost value. If they found them and returned them to him he would pay the sum of half a million dollars and their expenses; the only condition being the deal must be secret.
Kile realised the Rajah was out to gyp the insurance companies, but that didn’t worry him unduly. If he had the chance he wouldn’t hesitate to gyp any insurance company himself. He considered them fair game. But five hundred thousand! Why, with such a sum he could make a new start; he could even get back on to the Stock Market.
Those were the immediate thoughts that had chased through his mind when the Rajah had casually mentioned the sum, but as the Rajah went on talking, Kile’s latent shrewdness and caution asserted themselves. The undertaking was impossible. The Rajah was only offering this sum because he knew he would never be called upon to pay it. The whole thing was an absurd pipe-dream that no one in his right mind could or would take seriously.
Eve had apparently convinced the Rajah that if anyone could get the jewels, Kile could. How she had done it, what arguments she had used, Kile couldn’t think, but it was obvious the Rajah was impressed by him, even before they met.
‘I don’t expect miracles,’ the Rajah had said, holding Eve’s hand and looking at Kile as they stood at the door at the end of the interview. I’m afraid you are setting yourself a very difficult task. But I believe in supporting the long chance. I will pay up to five thousand to cover the expenses of — shall we say — an examination of the prospects. Naturally you will require help, and you will have to pay well. I think five thousand should be enough to start with. The amount will be paid into your bank tomorrow.’
Kile had recoiled, like a man seeing the ground suddenly open before his feet. If once he accepted the money, he would be seriously committed to this fantastic plan. He wasn’t fool enough to imagine the Rajah would give him such a sum without extracting full value for his money.
But Eve hadn’t given him a chance to refuse. She had told the Rajah the name of Kile’s bank, prevented Kile from breaking into the conversation, and got him out of the Rajah’s suite before he could gather his startled wits together.
On his way down to the hotel lobby, he had protested, but again she had reassured him.
‘We needn’t spend it,’ she had said. ‘If we can’t think of a plan we can return it to him. It won’t do any harm, Preston, for your bank to get that money; even if it is only a loan.’
When they had got back to Eve’s apartment, Kile had patiently pointed out the impossibility of such a task.
‘The jewels have been missing for fifteen years,’ he had said. ‘The trail’s cold. Every detective in the country has been searching for them, and as far as I know, is still searching for them. What chance have we got?’
‘That’s something we have to think about,’ she had said briskly. ‘I’m going to take a bath. I think better lying in hot water. Sit down and think, too, Preston. It’s worth five hundred thousand, and that’s a lot of money.’
He hadn’t thought. The whole thing was absurd and fantastic. Admittedly the money would be a life saver, but he couldn’t search the whole country like a damned detective. He hadn’t the faintest idea where the jewels might be.
He had finished his second whisky and was pouring a third when Eve came out of the bathroom. She was wearing a lilac-coloured silk wrap that suited her and emphasised the gold in her hair and the blue in her eyes. She went over to the dressing-table and sat down.
‘Is that your third or fourth?’ she asked, beginning to brush her hair.
He was immediately furious with her. What right had she to say such a thing to him?
‘Oh, be quiet!’ he shouted, banging his fist on the table. ‘God damn it! I won’t be questioned like this! I’l drink as much as I like!’
She went on brushing her hair, her face thoughtful, her eyes serious.
‘We’re going to talk to Rico tonight,’ she said. ‘It’s important that you shouldn’t be drunk, Preston.’
Kile set down his glass, took hold of Eve by her arms and pulled her to her feet. He gave her a hard, little shake. His face was red and congested, and his bloodshot eyes gleamed furiously.
‘I won’t be spoken to like this!’ he said in a loud bul ying voice. ‘I’m master here, and you’d better remember it! I’m not seeing Rico tonight. And if I want to get drunk, I’l get drunk!’
‘You’re hurting me, Preston,’ she said, and her steady, quiet look was like a douche of cold water in his face.
He released her with an impatient exclamation, turned and walked heavily across the room to stand with his back to her, his hands thrust deep in his trouser pockets.
‘Don’t be like this, Preston,’ she said patiently. ‘I only want to help you. You know as well as I do if you don’t take yourself in hand the crash is bound to come. This is your chance. Five hundred thousand!
It’s a tremendous sum. Think what you could do with it!’
He turned.
‘What’s the use of talking like that?’ he snapped. ‘It’s impossible to find those jewels. It’s ridiculous to think about it. Why do you imagine he offered such a sum? He knows perfectly well he won’t have to pay out.’
‘He said it was a long chance. Well, he’s not the only one who’s wil ing to back a long chance. I know it won’t be easy, but it’s not impossible.’ While she was speaking, Eve had got up and walked over to sit on the bed. She began to pull on her stockings, and Kile watched her, fascinated by her beauty and her swift movements. ‘I have an idea. We must see Rico tonight. We’ve got to have someone to do the dangerous work. He might know of someone who would do it.’
Kile came over and sat on the bed by her side. He was thinking that of all the women he had had in this apartment she was by far the most beautiful.
‘Dangerous work?’ he repeated, frowning. ‘What dangerous work?’
She stood up and undid her wrap.
‘Let me get dressed, darling, and on the way to the club I’l tel you my idea. It’s get ing late, and we must talk to Rico.’
She slipped out of the wrap and reached for a flimsy underthing. Kile’s eyes dwelt on her naked loveliness. He reached out and caught her arm, pulling her down beside him.
‘You’re too beautiful to bother your head about such things,’ he said, his heart beginning to beat violently and jerkily. ‘I’m not going out tonight: nor are you.’
She made a quick, impatient movement to break free, but immediately checked it. Instead, she slipped her arms around his neck and hid her face against his silken lapel, so he couldn’t see her expression of loathing and revulsion.