The Corfu Affair - Phillifent John T. (хороший книги онлайн бесплатно .TXT) 📗

"Seriously," he murmured, "I've done a lot of things in my time, but marrying a woman for her money has never been on the cards for me. You said she was a widow?"

"Four times!" she said, with just a tinge of malice.

"There you are! I'm not about to become the fifth, at anything. But, and I wouldn't kid you, I am curious. You say she has money. How? Did she marry it?"

"Not all of it, no. She owns the St. Denis laboratories, in Paris. And she is a world famous cosmetic surgeon!"

"Hah!" he said, pretending surprise and enlightenment. "That's where I've heard the name before. Cosmetic surgeon? So that's where she gets the Cleopatra shape from."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Miss Winter retorted sharply. "That shape is her own. At least…"

"The whole point about cosmetic surgery," he pointed out, "is that you can't tell the difference. For all I know, you may be one of her best customers, or a sample product."

"How would you like to get off and walk?" she invited icily, and he stifled a grin at the fury in her voice.

"No offence intended, honest. Only making the point that if it is expertly done you can't tell the difference. All the same, though, I don't see how she could do surgery on herself, so I take it all back. Anyway, you're just the cook-housekeeper, nothing else, eh?"

"Absolutely nothing else. I have no connection with her business and I mind my own. I would advise you to do the same, Mr. Summers."

"Call me Nathan," he invited. "I have the feeling you don't trust me, Kate. I wish there was something I could do to convince you that I'm on the level."

She halted the cart with the main road just in front of them and turned to him, a curious expression on her face. Then she got down and waited for him to follow, so that she could point.

"You can't go wrong from here. It's that way. Mr. Summers... Nathan, there's something I can do, if you'll promise me you won't get any wrong impressions. It's the only way I know for telling a good man from a bad one. May I?"

"Go ahead." He eyed her warily. All at once she surged close and threw her long arms around his neck, capturing his mouth with hers. By the time she released him they were both breathing considerably faster.

"Did I pass the test?" he demanded, and she sighed.

"I think so. I'm not absolutely sure, but whatever you are up to, it can't be all that bad!" With that she spun round and climbed back into the cart, sending it purring away back down the little road, leaving him standing with a frown.

After awhile, he started back for the hotel, walking slowly and struggling to shuffle his ideas into some kind of rational pattern, but he hadn't quite succeeded even by the time he had reached his hotel and was sitting on his bed. He had one thing in common with Katherine Winter. He wasn't quite sure what she was up to, but he was sure it wasn't all bad. And yet she was up to something. Whoever heard of a Frenchwoman with an American cook?

For the rest of his mental ingredients he had less assurance. He stirred them and shook his head at the suspicious flavor that came off. He had confirmed, definitely, that Countess Louise was highly dangerous, but not in the way he had been led to expect. With her looks and that built-in volcanic appeal she could have charmed birds off a tree, but that she was crooked, or evil, in the Thrush sense of the word, he found hard to believe. And yet, he reminded himself, there was Stanton. She had got him, somehow. Or had she? Perhaps her function had been no more than as bait for a trap? In which case he needed to think hard about the unexpected invitation to dinner. He was still thinking it over as he used his radio to get in touch with Waverly. Number One, Section One was not pleased to hear the account.

"You have disobeyed my cautions, Mr. Solo. I went to a deal of trouble to warn you that the woman was dangerous, yet you've walked right into her coils."

"Hardly that, sir. I'm reporting from my hotel room. I'm not 'caught' in any way. And look what I've got. The lady has taken a fancy to me, invited me into her 'home."

"Walk into my parlor!"

"That's possible, of course, but I can't see why. She doesn't know who I am. In any case, if it is a trap of some kind—well—vainly is the net spread in the sight of the bird. I'm not going into this with my eyes shut, after all!"

Waverly snorted irritably. "Mr. Solo, I am aware that your attitude towards a pretty woman is that of an angler towards trout in a stream, but one of these days you are going to hook a shark. And this could be the day. I'm aware that you're forewarned, and that you are resourceful, but you should bear in mind that thin ice is not dangerous except to those who insist upon skating on it. I strongly suggest you consider evading that invitation to dinner."

"I'll see what turns up, sir," Solo said, and put his instrument away with a wiry grin. It was indicative of Waverly's state of mind that he 'suggested' rather than 'ordered'. It was a difficult situation. Solo recalled the Countess and her dazzling smile, and felt a tiny chill. But somebody had to take a chance...and when would there be a better time?

CHAPTER FOUR

DR. SUSAN HARVEY, making a bid to deal with growing frustration, took up the glass cover of a petri dish and began, quite unnecessarily, to polish it with a tissue. Tilted at the correct angle, and with the dark gloss of the laboratory bench to back it, the glass made a good mirror. She studied her reflection carefully. Objectively, putting aside silly modesty, she knew she was attractive. Her pale blonde hair, cut short and shaped to her head, gleamed silkily. She had on the minimum of effective makeup, all she needed. She had a shape, too, although the laboratory smock didn't do much for it. Still, thought irritably, I'm not a hag! So why?

She shifted her gaze to stare offendedly at the sober-faced straw-haired young man who sat opposite her at the bench. Why? For all the effect she was having on him she might well have been just part of the equipment! Didn't he ever relax and become human? As if stirred by her thought, he chose that moment to look up from the volume he was studying, and met her gaze with eyes as blue as her own, staring at her impersonally. Instantly she felt foolish and confused, and as hot as if she had just been dropped into a warm bath. His words came blurrily over the roar of blood in her ears.

"Is this all the reference you have, Dr. Harvey, on electrical stimulation of the cortex?"

"That?" She struggled to order her wits. "Oh! Yes. I can get more if you really want to go into it. But that's hardly a field for biochemistry research, which is what you're supposed to be studying."

"Yes, I know." He sounded apologetic. "This book deals mostly with the immune reaction to artificial implants in the body. I suppose that's why you have it in your library here."

"Immunology is my special field," she reminded him, perhaps a shade more tartly than she intended, and he nodded.

"I know. I'm very grateful to you for taking the time to tutor me in the general background. There's such a lot of it nowadays. If I was going into it for real I would go for medical electronics, I think."

"You'd still have to cover the basic field of biochemistry before specializing. Everyone has to do that."

He seemed to become aware that she was not in the best of moods, and stirred uneasily. "Look, Dr. Harvey, I'm sorry to be taking up such a lot of your time. It must be tedious for you."