Adam and Daniel had searched every place they could think of, but still no Delilah. They had visited every club, pub and restaurant she had been known to frequent, called every friend where she might be having dinner at a private residence, and even popped in to see Uncle Elmo – otherwise known as Guglielmo Marconi, the world-famous radio and broadcast pioneer. The latter was tricky, as they did not want to give the impression that they had “lost” his great-niece. Instead they pretended that Delilah had concocted a treasure hunt, where she herself was the treasure to be found. It was a perfectly plausible explanation, because Delilah and her Bright Young friends were always going on highly publicised scavenger hunts in and around London. Uncle Elmo considered it charming, but could not help the young men in their search for his sparkling young relative.
“If we don’t find her soon, we may very well have to tell him the truth,” whispered Daniel as they got back into Adam’s motor. “His contacts could be invaluable. And the police will take us far more seriously with him on our side.”
“I’d rather not go to the police just yet,” said Adam, firing up the engine.
It was nearly eleven o’clock when Adam and Daniel decided to take a break from their search. As they were in Kensington, Adam suggested they pop into his penthouse apartment for a drink and a snack. He hadn’t been home since this morning, when he and Delilah had left to go to the theatre and they were intercepted by the man in the alley. Adam parked the motor in his usual spot, but was careful to scout the area before he and Daniel got out.
“What are you looking for?” Daniel asked.
“I was nearly mugged here this morning,” answered Adam.
Daniel looked at him curiously. The photographer had seemed all too happy to accompany Adam on his quest to find Delilah, and the young actor was glad that he seemed to accept his explanation of “we had a tiff and she stormed off” at face value, expressing empathy because apparently he and Poppy had had a tiff too. “Women!” he had declared, and they’d both laughed.
But Adam wasn’t sure how long he could keep up that pretence, particularly not after Daniel’s next question: “Is this where Delilah thought you had gotten into a sword fight?”
Adam sucked in his breath, then quietly exhaled. So she had told her friends about it. Poppy Denby and Rollo Rolandson were far too savvy to take that at face value. He wasn’t sure how long he could string Daniel along. Maybe it was time to get rid of him …
“Perhaps we should call it a night, old man. I’m sure Delilah will turn up sooner or later. We’ve left instructions all over town to ring me if she does. There’s no need for us both to man the phone. Can I drop you somewhere?”
Daniel turned to face him square on. In the diluted light from Kensington Road Adam could see the photographer was looking serious. Adam remembered what Delilah had told him about Daniel’s background. He was a soldier and had seen action on the Western Front. Adam himself had been conscripted in 1916, but he had managed to concoct a quick discharge because of a problem with his eyes – the result of reading late at night as a child in the theatre without proper light. It didn’t affect his day-to-day life – and he refused to wear spectacles – but by the time he had got through the medical and turned his considerable acting talent to good use, the doctor believed he was practically blind. He didn’t care if people thought him a coward. It was a mad war and he wasn’t going to sacrifice himself for someone else’s insanity.
Adam sized Daniel up, wondering if he could take him. He discounted using the secret rapier – he didn’t want to do the man any permanent harm – but he couldn’t allow himself to be turned in to the police, if that was Daniel’s intention.
Daniel took a step forward; Adam braced himself. Daniel noticed the change in body language and frowned. “What’s going on, Lane?”
Adam tried the nonchalant approach one final time. “Not a thing, Rokeby, not a thing. Want that lift?”
Daniel grabbed his arm. Adam winced. It was the stitched wound. Daniel tightened his grip. “Come on, old man; it’s time to fess up.”
Adam’s fist tightened on his cane. Quick as a flash Daniel kicked it aside and had Adam in a half-nelson. “So it’s true then. There is a rapier in that cane.”
And I should have used it, thought Adam as he threw his weight back against Daniel, trying to knock him off balance. But the photographer just tightened his grip. Adam felt his airway compressing.
“It’s not what you think,” he croaked.
“I don’t know what to think, Lane. Is Delilah really missing, or have you done something to her?”
“What the –” Adam’s reply was quenched by Daniel’s forearm as he tried to wriggle out of the ex-soldier’s grip.
It was no use. Adam could not break free. He raised his hands in defeat; Daniel’s arm loosened.
“If you think I could ever hurt that girl, you obviously don’t know me,” he whispered.
“And that’s exactly the problem, Lane. I don’t know you. And neither does Poppy. But she does suspect you of stealing that Fabergé egg. The question is, are you simply a thief, or a murderer too? And if you’re not a murderer, then someone else is, and both Poppy and Delilah might be in danger. You say you love her – who knows if you do or not? – but I can tell you this: I really love Poppy and I will not let her get hurt; or Delilah. So if there’s anything you know that could help, it’s time to tell me.”
Adam exhaled, sinking back against Daniel’s chest. “All right, I’ll tell you. But not here. Let’s go up to my flat.”
Daniel nodded in agreement and let Adam go, but positioned himself between the actor and the cane.
Adam gave a rueful smile. “I could have taken you, Rokeby.”
The photographer’s demeanour did not change. “You could have tried.”
The purple and silver filigree egg was perched on the table between them, its diamond studs catching the light of the gas fire.
“So what are you going to do with it?” asked Daniel, sipping at a cup of tea. Adam had offered him something stronger, but he’d declined.
“Well, now that my fence is dead, I’m not really sure. I could try to flog it on the black market, but that’s risky. I could wait until my employer contacts me again …”
“Can’t you contact him?”
Adam shrugged. “I’ve sent a telegram to Valetta, telling him there has been a delay in the handover, but that was before Watts was killed. I’ll need to send him another. I’ll do it in the morning.”
Daniel put his cup down on its saucer. “How sure are you that your employer’s in Malta?”
“Fairly sure. Why else would he use the Valetta post office?”
Daniel frowned. “You don’t seriously think it’s Victor Marconi, do you?”
Adam sighed. “No, not really. But it’s the only connection I have with Malta. He’s the only person I know associated with the place.”
“There are hundreds of thousands of people living on the island. It could be any of them.”
“Or none of them,” agreed Adam. “Malta could simply be a front.”
“Or not,” said Daniel, trying to puzzle it out. “And it’s not true that Victor is your only connection. Didn’t the Russian royals just come from there?”
Adam raised an eyebrow. Rokeby was cleverer than he had given him credit for. “Indeed they did,” he observed.
Suddenly, the telephone rang. Both men jolted. “Thank God!” said Adam as he went to answer it. “Finally, something about Delilah.”
“Kensington 2673. Adam Lane speaking …” He looked expectantly at Daniel, who was perched on the edge of the sofa.
“I have some information on the whereabouts of Delilah Marconi,” said a male voice.
Icy fingers clawed at Adam’s heart. It was the voice of the man in the alley.
“What have you done with her?” asked Adam.
“Nothing yet. But I will if you do not bring the egg to this address …” The man dictated an address, which Adam wrote down.
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” he said and put down the phone.
Daniel looked alarmed. “Dear God, Lane. I hope they’ve not …”
Adam’s hands quivered as they picked up the egg and wrapped it in the oil cloth.
“If I’m not back with her in an hour, Rokeby, go to the police. Give them this address.” He passed the piece of paper to Daniel, who looked at it – his face registering recognition.
“You can give it to them yourself. After you’ve got Delilah. And whether you like it or not, I’m coming with you – you’ll need all the help you can get, where you’re going.”
Adam weighed this up, realising that someone as handy as Daniel could be an asset. He nodded his agreement and then went to the sideboard and opened a drawer. He pulled out a revolver and handed it to the ex-soldier. “I assume you know how to use this.”