AT DAYBREAK THE NEXT MORNING CHERRY HEARD someone pounding on the front door of the chateau.
“Open the door! Val! Nurse Cherry!”
Cherry sleepily thought she recognized the voice as Joe Wardi’s. She jumped out of bed, put on some warm clothes and slippers, and ran out of her room into the upstairs hall. Mama and Papa Nicholas, in their nightclothes, already stood at the stair landing. They were watching Val, below, unlock and open the big door.
The mountaineer spoke to Val, who turned and called:
“Cherry! Can you come? It’s an emergency—”
Cherry joined them in the empty, silent dining room. None of the staff or guests were up yet. Mama bustled into the kitchen to make coffee for Joe Wardi. Strong though he was, he looked tired to the bone. Papa, after one glance at the mountaineer, brought him a glass of brandy.
“What happened to you, my friend?” Papa Nicholas asked.
Joe Wardi sank down on a chair and drank the brandy. “Thanks. I am all right. Only tired. The men in our climbing party are all right, too.” He handed back the drained glass and looked questioningly at Cherry. “I came to you first, miss, because I do not want to bother the doctor unless you say it is necessary. Well! We found a man being held prisoner—I think he is a sick man—”
“Prisoner!” Val said. “Where?”
“Possibly you exaggerate?” Papa suggested.
The mountaineer shook his grizzled head. “A prisoner, and no mistake.” Between sips of coffee, he told them how he, another mountaineer, and three men visitors had climbed Le Solitaire Mountain on Friday. “It was a good ascent, the familiar route”—Val and Papa both nodded—“only one ice field to cross this time. We reached Spirit Mountain the next day, Saturday, and—well, you know, climbing that mountain wall is not so easy.”
Cherry was fixing in her mind’s eye the location of Le Solitaire Mountain. It stood directly east of this village and opposite Mont d’Argent where everyone skied. She was not sure, though, of the location of Spirit Mountain and had to ask.
“Spirit Mountain is south and a little east of Le Solitaire,” Val said. “Spirit Mountain almost touches the Swiss-Italian border.”
“Near what town, near the border?” Cherry asked.
“Ah!” Mama Nicholas sighed. “Near where Papa and I spent our honeymoon! Near Lugano.”
Lugano…. In Cherry’s memory there rose up the blue lake of the Italian-Swiss resort, ringed by green mountains that soared into the great, icy Alps.
“About the prisoner,” Joe Wardi said impatiently.
“Excuse me.” Cherry blushed with embarrassment. She hadn’t meant to let her attention get sidetracked. “You say the man may be sick?”
Papa Nicholas interrupted. “First let Joe tell us where—and how—”
“We climbed up to the Blue Castle,” Joe Wardi said. “It is very cold, very lonely in those ruins. A place for eagles, or herds of cows and goats. Not fit for men, not in winter. Two of our visitors, photographers, wished to explore around the castle ruins. That is how we came to notice smoke and then to find the hut.”
“A herdsman’s hut?” Val asked.
“Well, I should better say, not a hut, but a small farmhouse. In the summer,” the mountaineer explained to Cherry, “a few dairy farmers live up there with their flocks. This farmer and his wife, they stayed on. Who knows why? No one would stay unless forced to! Or unless someone paid him very well to stay.” Joe Wardi thoughtfully rubbed his chapped hands. “The farmer and his wife are there now, with the prisoner.”
“But why do you believe the man is a prisoner?” Val asked.
“Because this man has no coat, no shoes, no skis—so he whispered to me,” Joe answered. “And he does not know where he is! You know Spirit Mountain has almost no tracked trails,” Joe said. “This is why he does not dare try to escape. He would get lost. He would die of exposure. Being a Swiss, he realizes this.”
“How were you able to get into the farmhouse and talk with the poor man?” Mama Nicholas asked.
Joe said that he and the other guide had gained entry only for a very few minutes, and only because they bought their way in.
“We were astonished, and very curious, to find anyone living on Spirit Mountain! We bribed the man with money; we gave the woman food and tea from our rucksack. I think they are short on provisions.”
“Short of food, with a sick man there?” Cherry said.
“You can’t expect to get adequate food supplies late in the fall on a seldom-traveled mountain,” Val said. “Joe, what else did the man—the prisoner—tell you?”
“The farmer heard him whispering to me, and stopped him. The farmer said—” Joe Wardi frowned, remembering. “‘Your friend said you need to rest!’ And the man answered, ‘He is not my friend!’ But then the man is so tired and weak, so helpless there, that he said, ‘Let it go.’”
“Is he sick in bed?” Cherry asked.
“In a chair. But so weak, maybe he should be in bed. He seemed very thirsty, too.” Joe Wardi looked over Cherry’s head to the dining-room doorway. “Hello, Toni. I did not see you come in.”
“I’ve just been standing here one or two minutes,” Toni said and his voice trembled. His eyes were like dark holes in his pale face.
“Why, Toni, what’s the matter?” Papa Nicholas asked. “Have you seen a ghost? Or do you just need a good, hot breakfast? Come, everybody! You, too, Joe! A quick breakfast, then we will—”
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Nicholas,” Cherry said respectfully. “It might be best if we consult Dr. Portman right away. Acute thirst, along with weakness, could be symptoms of some serious illness. Val and Joe, please? May we telephone the doctor now?”
They followed her out into the lobby to the desk telephone. As they left the dining room, Papa Nicholas was saying to Toni, “—on Spirit Mountain. Can you imagine it!”
Toni’s bitter answer jarred Cherry. “I don’t want to hear about Spirit Mountain or talk about it! Excuse me, Mr. Nicholas, but that’s a cruel mountain. I hate Spirit Mountain.”
Why? Cherry wondered. Why so vehement, almost in tears? Toni seemed to be almost at a breaking point. Val had not heard; he was busy trying to reach Dr. Portman on the telephone. She remembered that Toni had been found injured and alone on Le Solitaire Mountain. Le Solitaire was flanked by Spirit Mountain. Where had Toni been that Sunday?
Well, she’d have to think through this point later. Val said Dr. Portman was on the phone.
Dr. Portman was puzzled and troubled by the report Joe Wardi gave on the phone. The mountaineer went to the clinic with Cherry and Val, and described the details of the man’s condition for the doctor. But Joe’s information was scanty.
“That man could be sick with any of several diseases,” Dr. Portman said. “If he is being inadequately fed besides, he’s in trouble. Joe, about that farmer and his wife—are they taking care of the man?”
Joe shrugged. “They give him something to eat and keep him indoors, Doctor. They are simple, ignorant people. If you mean medicine, or nursing, I saw no medicine. But I do not know for certain.”
Dr. Portman was worried. So was Cherry. They discussed whether to relay Joe Wardi’s report at once to the police—sketchy though it was. All that seemed certain was that the farm couple were paid employees, not principals, in some evil scheme.
Finally the doctor said, “Let’s notify the police after we take care of our patients this morning. Two in particular need care, and making this report with Wardi could cause a serious delay. I think that man Joe found can safely wait another day.”
Cherry and Val walked back to the chateau to have a quick breakfast. In an hour Val’s classes, individual students, and his two instructors would be waiting for him. When Val and Cherry re-entered the dining room, Toni stood at the big sideboard coaxing and arguing with Papa Nicholas.
“I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t important, Mr. Nicholas! Terribly important! Just give me tomorrow off, just this one time,” Toni pleaded.
“Is it truly such an emergency?” Papa Nicholas was softening.
“Yes! Urgent!” Toni insisted. “Just tomorrow off, and I won’t ever ask again!”
Val said coolly to Toni, “You didn’t mention that you’d make up the time, did you?”
“I will! I will! Except not Sunday,” Toni said. Val and Cherry exchanged a flicker of a glance. “I’ll work every evening until midnight, to make up the time!”
Toni fretted, standing first on one foot, then the other, waiting for permission.
Papa Nicholas gave in. “Very good, my boy, yes. Take tomorrow if you need to. Who has the Paris morning newspaper? Madame Sully likes to be the first to read it.”
Toni said, “I’ll find it and take it to her. Thank you, Mr. Nicholas!” Toni rushed away.
A little later Cherry went upstairs to go to her room. As she walked along the dark upstairs hall, she heard angry, low voices, coming from Madame’s room. Her door stood ajar. Cherry saw Madame Sully brandishing a tightly rolled newspaper, trying to whack Toni with it. He defiantly jumped out of her reach.
“You will do as you are told!” Madame whispered furiously. “If you don’t follow orders, we’ll both be in trouble!” Her rolled newspaper caught Toni in the face.
Cherry sprang back as the door suddenly swung wide open. Toni burst into the hall, glaring back into the room, and said:
“All right! All right! I’ll follow orders, you fat old has-been!”
Cherry heard Madame’s muffled cry of rage. Toni hurried off down the hall muttering to himself, too embroiled to notice Cherry flattened against the shadowy wall.
What a relief to enter her own room! Cherry changed from her woolen dress into a white uniform, and then walked in the crisp morning air to the hospital.
“It’s like waking from a nightmare,” Cherry thought.
She paid careful attention to Dr. Portman planning their morning’s work.
“I have to visit our new patient, Mrs. Jean Davies, at her hotel. She had a severe nosebleed during the night and called me to stanch it. Then I’ll go see how Billy’s hepatitis is today.”
Cherry would accompany and assist the doctor. He telephoned Mrs. Barth, asking her to stay at the clinic during the hour or so they would be out. Elderly Mrs. Barth was not highly skilled at nursing, but she was kind and dependable. In case an emergency arose, she would telephone the doctor at his patients’ residences.
Midway through the call at Mrs. Davies’ house, her nosebleed started again. Dr. Portman needed more sterile gauze. Cherry offered to go back to their hospital, pick up gauze, and bring it to him.
Mrs. Barth was talking reassuringly and loudly on the telephone to a rather deaf patient when Cherry entered the small hospital. She and Cherry smiled at each other, and Cherry went into the supply room. She stopped, shocked.
Toni was searching furtively among the shelves in the refrigerator. He hadn’t heard her coming in because of her rubber-soled shoes.
“You have no right to be in here, Toni Peter!” Cherry exclaimed. She was alarmed and angry. “Medicines are dangerous in a layman’s hands. Why are you in here? What are you looking for?”
Toni’s skinny body shook as if he had a chill. His hands twitched so badly that he nearly dropped a vial of liquid. Cherry snatched it away and looked at it.
“Insulin! What do you want with insulin, Toni?”
He pressed his lips tight shut.
“I wish you’d tell me,” Cherry said quietly. “If someone takes too much or too little insulin, it can make him terribly sick—even kill him.”
Tears glittered in Toni’s hard eyes. “I only want to—to help someone.”
“All right, Toni, we’ll help whoever it is.”
“It’s that man—” The boy turned away to the wall. He could not face her. “It’s that prisoner Joe Wardi found. I know him. I mean, I don’t know his name, but I’ve been bringing him insulin.”
So the prisoner had diabetes! Cherry knew how serious that disease could be. Insulin and carefully prescribed diet are crucially necessary to keep the patient well and able to lead a useful life.
Cherry asked anxiously, “Toni, has that man enough insulin to last until you—or someone—can bring him more?”
“I think he has enough to last a week or two. Unless he took more. Next Sunday I’m supposed to bring him another supply. Please tell me something.” Toni turned to face Cherry. “You’re a nurse. You know about these things. Tell me—will he die if he doesn’t get insulin?”
“He might.” Cherry sighed. She forbore to say that being “short on provisions,” as Joe Wardi had reported, meant wrong diet. If long continued, that could soon lead to infections, even coma and perhaps death. Emotional stress could be very dangerous, too.
Toni sat down, dazed, on a stool. Cherry put the vial of insulin back into the refrigerator, saying:
“Dr. Portman and all of us won’t let him die. We’ll do our best to save him.” Now she understood why Toni, when found injured, had been located on Le Solitaire Mountain. He had been delivering insulin to the hut on adjacent Spirit Mountain.
“Tell me, Toni, did you bring that man insulin from our hospital supply?”
She did not recall that any insulin was missing but she could be in error, and there were other diabetic patients to provide for.
“No,” Toni said, “when I went on errands, I bought insulin from the pharmacy in Morten. Not with my own money—I don’t earn much. But now I can’t buy insulin there any more.”
Cherry questioned Toni, and he reported that the man being held prisoner owned a regular kit, and took insulin every day.
“That way his supply lasts for twenty days,” Toni said. “But allowing for the chance I might be delayed—I bring him insulin every two weeks. Every other Sunday. I mean, I did up until now.”
Cherry absorbed this information. And on other Sundays did Toni meet Marco in Rosalia? Cherry wondered. Never mind that now.
“Why can’t you buy insulin in the Morten pharmacy any more?” Cherry asked.
“I can’t talk about it. If I tell you, or tell anybody, I’ll be dead.”
Cherry stared at the skinny boy. Dead! He wasn’t joking. She thought of Madame Sully’s threats to Toni, to herself.
“—and the only other towns big enough to have pharmacies are too far away for me to buy insulin and bring it all the way to Spirit Mountain in my one day off from work,” Toni was saying. “Anyway, the money for me to buy insulin with—that’s stopped. That’s why I’m stealing it.”
Under Cherry’s prodding, Toni finally admitted in a low voice, “Somebody’s forbidden me to bring that man any more insulin.”
“But that’s murder!” Cherry exclaimed. “Who forbids you?”
“I can’t tell you who. I already talked too much. I’ll tell you this much, Cherry—when I got mixed up in this game, I only did it to make some quick money.”
“Dishonestly?” Cherry kept her voice quiet.
“Mm—yes, you could say that. I always wanted to have money and be a big guy, so I thought getting this job was a sort of first step. I thought I’d branch out from here. But I never figured on murder!” Toni blurted out.
“What did you figure on, Toni?”
“Ah—what’s the difference?” Then his troubled look returned, and Toni said:
“I was going to deliver the insulin a few days early, if he’s so sick. I thought maybe it went bad, or something. That’s why I was stealing it. That’s why I asked Mr. Nicholas for a day off.” Toni drew a deep, shaky breath. “Getting from here to Eagle’s Peak to Spirit Mountain and back in one day—it takes doing!”
“Listen, Toni,” Cherry said. “Insulin won’t spoil in a cool place, and that hut up on the mountain probably is cool. You have no reason to believe that the farm couple would take the man’s insulin away from him, have you?”
Toni shook his head.
“And you told me that man already has enough insulin,” Cherry said. “So it’s not lack of insulin that’s making him sick, is it? The cause could be wrong diet or an infection or—or something unconnected with diabetes. He needs a doctor, Toni. You can’t save that man by yourself.”
Toni looked defeated after hearing her explanation. He was concerned for the sick man.
“Who is this sick man?” Cherry asked.
“Didn’t he tell you?” Cherry found Toni hard to believe.
“No, he didn’t! He couldn’t! He’s a prisoner in that hut, don’t you understand? The farmer watches him like a regular prison guard would! When I’m there, the poor, sick fellow don’t dare talk much to me because the farmer stands right there listening. Mostly we just visit a little bit, I say I hope he feels better—and then the farmer hustles me out.”
“Well, then,” Cherry asked, “what does the prisoner look like? How old is he?”
“Huh. He’s about forty, no, maybe only thirty-five. He’s maybe taller’n me, but I’m not sure because he’s always sitting or lying down. I’d say he was on the heavy side except now he’s losing weight fast.”
Cherry could get no clear picture from this. “What color hair has he? Any distinguishing marks?”
“He’s got ordinary brown hair. Brown eyes, I think. Nothing special about him. Looks like he’s always worked pretty hard for a living.”
Cherry gave up trying to establish the man’s identity, at least through Toni.
“Tell me something else, Toni. Who hired you to bring the man insulin?” Cherry asked. No answer. “Who told you where he is? Who pays you, Toni?”
Toni pressed his lips tight shut.
“You’ll have to tell sooner or later, you know,” Cherry said. “Who’s keeping that poor man there? If he’s a prisoner, he must have been kidnapped.”
“Don’t ask so many questions!” Toni burst out. “What does it matter to you about some insulin? I’d pay for it.”
“Was it your friend Jack Lenk?” Cherry persisted. “The man with the red sports car?”
Toni turned pale and mopped his face. His breathing grew quick.
“Stop it,” he said hoarsely. “Stop asking me things. I can’t stand any more.”
So it was Jack Lenk, Cherry thought. Toni would not be so agitated if she had not figured it correctly.
Out in the clinic, the telephone rang. Mrs. Barth answered, then called, “Miss Ames! Doctor wants to know where you are all this time.”
“I’ll talk with the Doctor…. Toni, listen,” Cherry said gently. “Why don’t you wait here until Dr. Portman decides what we’re all to do?”
The boy nodded. “I’ll wait. But look! The doctor or you can’t help that man unless—I—You won’t be able to go in that cabin unless I’m along. The farmer don’t open the door to anybody but Jack or me. So—”
Toni screwed up his face, deciding. She waited. Toni said broodingly:
“I don’t care what Jack Lenk does to me. He’s not going to get me mixed up with a murder! Cherry, you tell Dr. Portman I’ll help if a rescue party is sent up Spirit Mountain, up to where the man is.”
“I certainly will tell the doctor! Thanks, Toni!”
Cherry ran to the phone, apologized to Dr. Portman, and briefly relayed what she had just learned. He said they had better notify the police in order to protect the diabetic man. Mrs. Barth was to take the sterile gauze to him, and after visiting one more patient, his last today, the doctor would meet Val, Toni, and Cherry at the local police station in Morten. “Please notify Val to bring Joe Wardi.”
“Yes, Dr. Portman,” Cherry said, but she dreaded bringing Toni and Val together now. If she knew Val, he would ignore Toni in silence.
That afternoon Cherry, an unhappy Toni, a stonily silent Val, and Joe Wardi met Dr. Portman in Morten at the police station.
They gave their information to the police officers in charge.
Toni made what he said was a full confession. He described how the ring operated. Jack Lenk, whose true name was Hendrix, supplied Madame Sully with stolen watchworks. Hendrix gave them to Madame’s visitors, who delivered them as “presents.” Madame transferred them to Toni. Then Toni smuggled these across the border to Marco in Rosalia. Marco in turn carried them by car to Milan, where he sold them to certain jewelers, the ones listed in the green notebook. The jewelers put the watchworks into cases and sold them to peddlers and unsuspecting individuals, usually tourists.
“I think,” Toni said, “that there’s another man besides Lenk—I mean Hendrix—who’s part of this racket. But I don’t know who he is.”
The presiding police officer asked Toni, “Do you know where Lenk gets the watchworks that you smuggle into Italy?”
“No, sir, I don’t know,” Toni said.
Another police officer asked, “Are the watchworks marked with a trade name?”
“I never looked,” Toni answered. “The watchworks are wrapped up tight, each one in a tiny cotton and paper package, and I—Well, I never bothered to unwrap one.”
Val spoke up, suddenly realizing as Cherry did, the meaning of that thwarted phone call they had made to Jura to inquire about Jacob Lenk. “Gentlemen, it may be the Gold Ribbon Watch factory in the Jura.”
“Thanks, Mr. Nicholas,” the presiding officer said. “Then someone in the Gold Ribbon plant must be supplying Hendrix with stolen watchworks.” He looked inquiringly at Toni, who shrugged. “We’ll investigate there,” the police officer said. “Discreetly.”
The senior officer explained to Toni that having been criminally involved in the racket, he was an accessory after the fact, and could be held in police custody. But because Toni could aid in a police plan to rescue the sick man, he would temporarily go free. He would be placed in the informal custody of Mr. Henry Nicholas at the chateau.
Next, the police described the several steps in their plan. Madame Sully would be kept under surveillance at the hotel. A police officer would join the staff of the Chateau Nicholas as a “waiter,” for this purpose. Marco, in the mountain village of Rosalia, would be watched by the local Italian police there.
As for Jack Lenk, alias Hendrix, the Swiss authorities would search for him. They also would notify the police in Milan to watch for him. Finally the police’s secret plan was worked out in detail, in a discussion with Joe, Val, and Cherry.
The police talked over with Joe Wardi how the rescue party and the police—in two separate groups—were to reach the hut far up on Spirit Mountain. If the weather permitted, a plane or helicopter would land up there. If not, Joe Wardi’s rescue party would go on skis, the most direct route.
The police, in automobiles to transport the criminals, would have a roundabout drive on highways to reach the desolate mountain. Then the police would go up the only trail on Spirit Mountain, leaving the cars below, using a snowcat, skis, and sleds.
“We’ll have to wait and see what the weather will be,” Joe Wardi said.