20 - The Corfu Affair Read Online Free Page B

Caution tried to remind him that she was deadly dangerous, but caution was wasting its time. His hand slipped and he swore as he gently nursed the lenses back into line. He saw that she had moved a step or two, to stand by a curious dark object on the balcony wall. Just in time he realized what it was and ducked, turning away and sliding his camera around so that it was out of her sight. A telescope! He should have guessed she would have such a thing. Feeling her eyes on him he swung his head and went through the motions of staring at the scenery. In a while he risked a look in that direction again, and she had vanished out of sight.
    He sat and pondered, hard. In the course of a highly exciting life he had learned the virtue of knowing when to run, but he had never learned to like doing it; nor did he now. This place was dangerous. That woman was dangerous. She had just caught him snooping. So his best bet was to depart from there, speedily. But he argued with himself.
    "So I run!" he muttered. "Then what? On an island this size, where is there to go?" Having spiked that argument he went on to justify himself. He was playing the part of an irreverent and hard-necked tourist, wasn't he? All right, then, so he was snooping. What could be more natural? Why not carry it through? After all, nobody had taken a shot at him—not yet!
    He sat still and surveyed the domain he had come to see. His gaze traveled down the front of the building, to the forecourt and grounds, along the path to the plage, and then on to the seafront itself. This was almost directly below him. Here someone had built two pier arms of stone faced with marble out into the sea so that they almost enclosed an area of about an acre of the lazuli-blue water, making it a natural pool. Or a harbor? There was a stone stairway rising out of the water that would be ideal for disembarking from a small boat. Then his eyes found something else.
    One of the walls had been built onto the rock spur where he sat; close to that wall, floating but tethered, was an airbed. On the airbed was stretched a slim shape. Another woman. He didn't need his telescope this time to confirm that he was regarding a delectable picture as different from the first as it was possible to get. Blonde—so it had to be the cook-housekeeper.
    He secured the camera into its disguised form and set away to scramble down the side of the rock until he could stand on the wall and walk along it. The nearer he got the more he was convinced that he had never in all his life seen a cook who looked like this one. The two scraps of pastel-blue fabric that stood between her and Eve would hardly have made him a handkerchief. The areas thus revealed were golden brown, with all the exuberant loveliness of youth. 'No more than twenty-five,' he estimated. 'Which is kind of young to be a chef; but she could come and cook for me, any time!'
    By the time he stopped walking he could have reached out and touched her. But he didn't. Instead, he used a moment to get back his breath and dignity, then, putting on his best nasal tones, he said:
    "Hi, there!
    She snapped awake so suddenly that the airbed teetered dangerously and it looked as if her bikini was going to get wet. Her eyes were blue, and widely indignant as she glared at him.
    "Who are you? How did you get here? What do you want?"
    "Whoa, now!" he grinned. "One at a time. Matter of fact, I was looking for a castle. I thought I'd found it, but now I'm not so sure."
    She stared again, breathing hard. "A castle? What do you mean, you were looking for a castle? Have you lost one?" As he listened, he guessed that she would have a nice voice in more favorable circumstances. By the sound, she came from somewhere very close to the Mason-Dixon line. He poured on the wide-eyed charm.
    "That's neat. Have I lost one, hah! Do I look like I would lose a castle, always supposing I had one to lose?"
    "You look as if you could lose just about anything, including your way. I don't see