to draw her out when talking with her: I did not recommend you do this.” He shook his head. “I might as well scribble all over the walls that we have our doubts about her. Good God, if I had wanted the lock picked, I could do that myself. Use a little sense, James.”
James’ indignation was all the greater for the disquieting suspicion that Saint-Germain was right. “I thought I was taking your hint.”
“After all I told you about prudence? Truly?” He bent down and very carefully put the valise back under the bed. “If it reassures you. James, I have examined the lock already, but under less questionable circumstances. It is not as simple as it looks. Not only is there the lock you see, there is a second lock under it, and it is a good deal more complex.”
“How complex?” James inquired acidly.
“It takes two keys. I am not sure why, but it does give me pause.” He was already crossing the room. “We should leave. Madame Kunst sat down to her supper not long ago, but there is no reason for her to linger over the food. She may come back here shortly, and I doubt either of us could adequately explain what we are doing here.”
Grudgingly, James permitted Saint-Germain to take him from the room, but as they started down the long stairs, he made one protest. “Why don’t you just break into the valise and tell her that you were required to do it?”
“James, for an intelligent man, you suffer from curious lapses. Why would I do that? What excuse would she believe? And where would be the benefit?” His brows arched and he let James take whatever time he needed to answer the questions.
“Well,” James said lamely as they reached the main floor again, “you would know what is in the valise.”
“True enough. But do you know, I would rather find out some less compromising way.” He frowned, then the frown faded. “I don’t fault you for wanting the question resolved: so do I.”
James accepted this with ill grace. “You aren’t willing to do the obvious, so …”
“Do the obvious? It is not quite my style,” he said sardonically. “James, play cards with the woman, listen to her, and make note of what she asks you. Tomorrow morning, I will tell her I have arranged for her transportation down the mountain so that she can reach Nice and the boat she says she wishes to take to Scotland. That should precipitate matters.”
“And what if that is what she wants, and all she wants?” James asked.
“Then Roger will do it. He has arranged with the authorities in Saint-Jacques-sur-Crete to have a travel pass when it is necessary. In these matters the local officials are strangely flexible.” He put one hand on James’ arm. “Try to restrain your impulses until then, if you will. Should it turn out that we come through this with nothing more than a touch of war-time paranoia, we may count ourselves fortunate.”
James had nothing to say in response, and knew he was not very much looking forward to another round of losing at whist, but he offered no protest as he went back into the room to wait for Madame Kunst.
“Oh, thank you, Herr Comte,” Madame Kunst said listlessly over a cup of weak tea the following morning.
“It was nothing, Madame. You told me that this was your wish. I only regret that it took so long to arrange the details. But surely you understand.”
“Yes, of course I do.” She paused to cough delicately. “I am surprised that you were able to accomplish this so quickly. After what I have been through, I expected I would have to intrude on your hospitality”—again a quiet, emphatic cough—“for a much longer time.”
“It is best to act quickly in cases such as yours,” Saint-Germain said ambiguously.
“How kind,” she murmured, and achieved another cough.
“Is something the matter, Madame Kunst?” le Comte inquired politely, giving in.
“A slight indisposition, nothing more, I am sure.” She smiled apologetically.
“Good. I would not like to think that you were ill.” He rose from the chair he had taken across from her.
“Oh, I don’t believe I’m that. My throat, you know. And it has been chilly.” She said this last in a tone a bit more hoarse than when she had begun.
“It is often the case in the mountains,” Saint-Germain said by way of courteous commiseration. “I believe there is aspirin in the chateau, but little else. If you like, I