chairs around it.
'Conference table, I presume,' said Derek.
'Let's take a look at the window.'
'Which one?'
Canfield thought. 'Over here.' He went toward the french windows directly in line with those of Elizabeth Scarlatti.
'Good point. Here.' The Englishman edged Canfield out of the way as he directed the light.
On the wooden sill was a freshly made valley, which had gone through the paint to the wood grain. Where the wood met the outer stone there was a similar semicircle, which had cut through the layers of dirt and turned that small portion of blackish stone to light gray. The ridge was approximately an inch and a half thick and obviously caused by the friction of a wide rope.
'Whoever it was is a cat,' said Canfield.
'Let's look around.' The two men walked first through the left bedroom door and found a double bed fully made up. The bureaus were empty and nothing but the usual stationery and corked pens were on the desk. The closets held nothing but hangers and cloth shoe repositories. The bathroom was spotless, the fixtures gleaming. The second bedroom to the right was the same except that the bedspread was mussed. Someone had slept or rested on it.
'Large frame. Probably six feet or over,' said the Englishman. 'How can you tell?'
'Imprint of the buttocks. See here, below the half point of the bed.'
'I wouldn't have thought of that.'
'I have no comment.'
'He could have been sitting.'
'I said probably.'
The field accountant opened the closet door. 'Hey, shine the light here.'
'There you are.'
'Here it is!'
On the closet floor was a sloppily coiled pile of rope. Through the coils at the bottom were three wide straps of leather attached to the rope by metal clasps.
'It's an Alpine rig,' said the English agent.
'For mountain climbing?'
'Precisely. Very secure. The professionals won't use it. Unsporting. Used for rescues, mainly.'
'God bless 'em. Would it scale a wall at the Savoy?'
'Beautifully. Very quick, very safe. You were correct.'
'Let's get out of here,' said Canfield.
'I'll take that drink now.'
'My pleasure.' Canfield rose from the bed with difficulty. 'Scotch whiskey and soda, friend?'
'Thanks.'
The American walked to a table by the window that served as his bar and poured two large quantities of whiskey into glasses. He handed one to James Derek and half raised his own in a toast.
'You do good work, James.'
'You're quite competent yourself. And I've been thinking you may be right about taking that rig.'
'All it can do is cause confusion.'
'That's what I mean. It could be helpful... It's such an American device.'
'I don't understand.'
'Nothing personal. Just that you Americans are so equipment conscious, if you know what I mean. When you shoot birds in Scotland, you carry heavy millimeter cannon with you into the field... When you fish in the Lowlands, you have six-hundred artifices in your tackle box. The American's sense of sportsmanship is equated with his ability to master the sport with his purchases, not his skill.'
'If this is hate-the-American hour, you should get a radio program.'
'Please, Matthew. I'm trying to tell you that I think you're right. Whoever broke into the Scarlatti suite was an American. We can trace the rig to someone at your embassy. Hasn't that occurred to you?'
'We can do what?'
'Your embassy. If it is someone at your embassy. Someone who knows Bertholde. The men you suspect of having been involved with the securities. Even an Alpine rig has to be manipulated by a trained mountain climber. How many climbers can be there in your embassy? Scotland Yard could check it in a day.'
'No - We'll handle it ourselves.'
'Waste of time, you know. After all, embassy personnel have dossiers just as Bertholde has. How many are mountain climbers?'
The field accountant turned away from James Derek and refilled his glass. 'That puts it in a police category. We don't want that. We'll make the interrogations.'
'Just as you say. It shouldn't be difficult. Twenty to thirty people at most. You should track it down quickly.'
'We will.' Canfield walked to his bed and sat down.
'Tell me,' said the Englishman, finishing the last of his whiskey, 'do you have a current list of your embassy personnel? Up-to-date, that is?'
'Of course.'
'And you're absolutely sure that members of the staff working there now were part of this securities swindle last year?'
'Yes. I've told you that. At least, the State Department thinks so. I wish you'd stop harping on it.'
'I shan't any longer. It's late and I have a great deal of work on my desk which I've neglected.' The British operative rose from the chair and