badly are you hurt?'
'I'm not sure. It hurts like hell - I've never been hit before.
'Never shot before...' He was finding it difficult to speak. Elizabeth started to move toward him. 'God damn it! Stay where you are!' He looked up and saw that he was out of the sight line of the window. They both were. 'Look, can you reach the phone? Go on the floor. Stay down!... I think I need a doctor - A doctor.' He passed out.
Thirty minutes later Canfield awoke. He was on his own bed with the whole upper left part of his chest encased in an uncomfortable bandage. He could barely move. He could see, blurredly to be sure, a number of figures around him. As his eyes came into focus, he saw Elizabeth at the foot of the bed looking down at him. To her right was a man in an overcoat, behind him a uniformed policeman. Bending over him on his left was a balding, stern-faced man in his shirt sleeves, obviously a doctor. He spoke to Canfield. His accent was French.
'Move your left hand, please.'
Canfield obeyed.
'Your feet, please.'
Again he complied.
'Can you roll your head?'
'What? Where?'
'Move your head back and forth. Don't try to be amusing.' Elizabeth was possibly the most relieved person within twenty miles of the Hotel D'Accord. She even smiled.
Canfield swung his head back and forth.
'You are not seriously hurt.' The doctor stood erect.
'You sound disappointed,' answered the field accountant.
'May I ask him questions. Herr Doktor!' said the Swiss next to Elizabeth.
The doctor replied in his broken English. 'Yes. The bullet passed him through.'
What one had to do with the other perplexed Canfield, but he had no time to think about it. Elizabeth spoke.
'I've explained to this gentleman that you're merely accompanying me while I conduct business affairs. We're totally bewildered by what's happened.'
'I would appreciate this man answering for himself, madame.'
'Damned if I can tell you anything, mister...' And then Canfield stopped. There was no point in being a fool. He was going to need help. 'On second thought, maybe I can.' He looked toward the doctor, who was putting on his suit coat. The Swiss understood.
'Very well. We shall wait.'
'Mr. Canfield, what can you possibly add?'
'Passage to Zurich.'
Elizabeth understood.
The doctor left and Canfield found that he could lie on his right side. The Swiss Geheimpolizist walked around to be nearer.
'Sit down, sir,' said Canfield as the man drew up a chair. 'What I'm going to tell you will seem foolish to someone like you and me who have to work for our livings.' The field accountant winked. 'It's a private matter - no harm to anyone outside the family, family business, but you can help - Does your man speak English?'
The Swiss looked briefly at the uniformed policeman. 'No, monsieur.'
'Good. As I say, you can help. Both the clean record of your fair city... and yourself.'
The Swiss Geheimpolizist drew up his chair closer. He was delighted.
The afternoon arrived. They had timed the train schedules to the quarter hour and had telephoned ahead for a limousine and chauffeur. Their train tickets had been purchased by the hotel, clearly spelling out the name of Scarlatti for preferred treatment and the finest accommodations available for the short trip to Zurich. Their luggage was sent downstairs an hour beforehand and deposited by the front entrance. The tags were legibly marked, the train compartments specified, and even the limousine service noted for the Zurich porters. Canfield figured that the lowest IQ in Europe could know the immediate itinerary of Elizabeth Scarlatti if he wished to.
The ride from the hotel to the station took about twelve minutes. One-half hour before the train for Zurich departed an old woman, with a heavy black veil, accompanied by a youngish man in a brand-new fedora, his left arm in a white sling, got into a limousine. They were escorted by two members of the Geneva police, who kept their hands on their bolstered pistols.
No incident occurred, and the two travelers rushed into the station and immediately onto the train.
As the train left the Geneva platform, another elderly woman accompanied by a youngish man, this one in a Brooks Brothers hat, and also with his left arm in a sling but hidden by a topcoat, left the service entrance of the Hotel D'Accord. The elderly woman was dressed in the uniform of a Red Cross colonel, female division, complete with a garrison cap. The man driving was also a member of the International Red Cross. The