I DROVE BACK TO Le Relais musing on what an unusual detective he was. It was fortunate that the Huitième Bureau had established a role in this business before I had arrived, otherwise I might have been stuck with some starchy official without imagination or ability.
I went up to my room as slowly as possible. That way, I was able to delay doing something I really didn’t want to do. When I dialed Sir Charles Willesford’s home number, I did that slowly too.
He sounded quite jovial. It was a mood I knew wouldn’t last long.
“You’re reporting progress already?” he sounded astonished. “It’s only been a few hours and—”
I seized on that. “Well, I have found Edouard Morel…”
“Excellent! What have you learned from him?”
It was going to be all downhill from now on, I could see that. I told him the whole story and he interrupted me with only a few bewildered questions:
“Hit on the head with a piece of marble?”
“In a Roman ruin, you say?”
“You were with Morel’s wife?”
“She has a million-franc policy on his life?”
There was a lengthy silence and I could hear him calling for a strong whisky and soda. His wife was obviously very efficient and his voice was stronger as he resumed. “I was going to tell you to drop this investigation. Too many people are dying. But—well, maybe … you say you’re close to the answer…”
He didn’t add, “so we might as well risk your life a little longer.” Still, I didn’t like being a target and a natural stubbornness was asserting itself.
“I think we can get to the bottom of this business if I hang in there just a little longer,” I said heroically.
He grunted. He didn’t want to see the money he had invested so far completely wasted was what the grunt meant. “Good man,” he added.
“I’ll keep you informed,” I told him and hung up before he could get maudlin or I could change my mind.