Cry For the Baron (15 page)

Julia opened the door. Kenneth Yule strode past her, then drew back, as if astounded.

 

 

After the moment of astonishment Yule raised clenched fists and approached Mannering, anger in his eyes. They were tired eyes, glassy from lack of sleep. He was pale and haggard, his curly fair hair was tousled. He was taller than Mannering – and seemed to be spoiling for a fight.

Julia stood in the doorway. Lorna turned from the window and caught her breath.

Yule growled: “Where is she? Come on, out with it—where's Fay? If you don't tell me I'll break your neck.”

Mannering said: “It's a tough neck.”

“Tell me where she is!” Yule's voice was pitched so low it seemed to hurt him to speak.

“If I knew I don't think I'd tell you.”

Yule rasped: “You'll tell me!” He leapt forward, driving a straight left that would have floored Mannering had it connected. Mannering moved swiftly, rammed home a stopping punch to Yule's stomach. But it didn't stop Yule, just made him grunt before he came on again; this time he was more careful. Left to the head, right to the body – powerful blows with fourteen stone behind them, and they drove Mannering back.

Lorna cried: “Stop it!”

Mannering caught his foot on a stool and stumbled backwards; another swinging left just brushed his chin. He drove for the nose, landed, saw tears of pain flood Yule's eyes. He went in, both fists working like piston rods, forced the man back, crowded him into a corner and floored him.

“Don't!”
Lorna cried, and rushed towards them. Mannering heard her, saw Julia step forward swiftly, guessed that Julia was stopping her. He drew back. A trickle of blood showed on Yule's lips, his eyes glittered with rage. He got on all fours, then to his feet; he sprang at Mannering again, swung a wild left, took a body punch which drove the wind gustily out of his stomach. He stood swaying, arms down, chin forward – an easy victim. Mannering dropped his arms and turned away. Lorna stood trembling, with Julia's arm round her shoulders.

“The answer is no, I don't know where Fay is,” Mannering said.

Yule muttered: “That's a lie.”

“Look out!” cried Lorna. “John! Mind!”

Mannering took his cigarette-case from his pocket, heard Yule coming, did nothing to stop him, put a cigarette to his lips and lit it. Yule was only a yard behind, had him at his mercy – but drew back and let his arms fall by his side. Mannering turned and offered him a cigarette.

Julia said: “Ken doesn't smoke.”

“So you know him well.” Mannering put his case away and said: “Who told you I know where to find her?”

Yule said: “I know you do.”

Mannering went to a chair and sat on the arm, glad of the respite. He was tired; too tired. There was something in what Lorna had said – he was getting past this kind of activity. Yule had defeated himself. Now he stood, big and towering yet somehow weak and helpless. “Enrico Fiori knows where Fay is, no one else does.”

“He doesn't!”

“What makes you so sure?”

“He told me.” Yule flung the words out. Mannering drew deeply on the cigarette and waited. Yule's heavy breathing soughed about the room. Julia released Lorna, who didn't move.

“And when did you see Fiori?” asked Mannering.

“I didn't see him. He telephoned me.”

“When?”

“Before I came here. I've been hunting for Fay all night. I hadn't been home an hour before he called me. He said it was no use looking for her; if I wanted to find her I should have to come to you. I went to your flat, you weren't there, and—” He broke off.

“You came to see Julia. Why?”

Julia said sweetly: “Young people in trouble always come to see me.”

“I could tell them where else to go,” Mannering said. “I don't know where Fay is, Yule. Fiori didn't mean that I did. He meant that he thinks I've got the
Diamond of Tears
and that he'll deliver Fay if I deliver the stone. It would be a help if I had it.” Lorna started.

The new Lorna – would she give him away now?

She didn't speak.

“I don't believe that's what he meant.” Yule's voice was clipped. “He said he didn't know where she was.”

“Is that true?” Julia asked sharply.

“Why the devil do you think I'd lie about it?”

Julia said: “No, you're not a liar. Nor is Enrico. He doesn't think that lying helps anyone, he either tells the truth or says nothing at all.”

“The Devil reformed,” suggested Mannering.

Julia said: “You don't know Enrico or you wouldn't talk like that. He is corrupt and evil but he's not a liar. He isn't being honest, just practical. He's too rich, too powerful, to worry about mean things. Kenneth, are you sure that he actually said that he didn't know where Fay is?”

“Of course I'm sure.”

“Then he doesn't know,” said Julia. “You'll have to start afresh from there, Mannering. And now it really is a puzzle, because if he didn't take her away, who did?”

Mannering said: “So he's not a liar.” He took the letter out of his pocket, read it again and then handed it to her.
“Your good-fortune will not last. It is easy for you to give me what I want. You can make it easy for others, too. Fay is a charming girl, I do not wish to hurt her.”

Julia handed it back, Lorna took it, and Mannering let her have it.

“There's nothing in that that makes him a liar,” said Julia. “He doesn't say that he knows where Fay is. He implies that he can do her harm. You ought to know by now. If it comes to lying, you do pretty well. You could get the
Tear
now, if you wanted it. Once Enrico has that no one need worry.”

Mannering said: “Everyone thinks I keep the
Tear
in my pocket and can produce it by a wave of the hand.” He stubbed out his cigarette, watched Lorna as she read, wondered if she would confirm what they thought; but she handed him back the letter without comment.

“If you've got the
Tear
—” Yule began.

“If I had the
Tear
I'd let Fiori break me to pieces before I'd hand it over.”

Yule said in a low-pitched voice: “You do know where it is.” He turned away and went to Julia. He took her hand, was meek, humble, and his voice was so low-pitched that the words hardly carried to Mannering. “Julia, make him give it up. I—I didn't know what was happening, I've been a blind fool. I knew Fay was nervous but I didn't know that she had such a good reason. Have you—seen these?”

He took out a large envelope and handed it to her. Mannering had seen just such an envelope and knew what was in it; coldly detailed police reports of the finding of four bodies; and a photograph. Julia said: “Yes.” Yule raised her hand, held it between his, as if he would crush it – and Mannering thought there were tears of entreaty in his eyes.

“That mustn't happen to Fay. You
must
give it up.” Yule turned, his eyes bloodshot, and there was fear in them – the fear which was the keynote of this foul business. “Mannering, I—I'm beside myself. I hardly know what I'm doing, I'm so frightened for Fay. You must surrender the
Tear. I
—”

He broke off, raised his hands – and all of them watched him, caught by his sudden tension, the hope that sprang into his eyes. He touched Mannering's arm, and his fingers were cold and quivering.

“Mannering, you know all about jewels! You know how much that diamond is worth—fifty thousand pounds. I'll pay you a
hundred
thousand if you'll let Fiori have that
Tear.
You must do it, nothing else can save her.” He tightened his grip. “A hundred thousand pounds!”

 

If he were prepared to pay such a fortune then Fay meant almost as much to Yule as life itself. Julia came forward, only Lorna was behind them. Her gaze met Mannering's. Lorna's didn't fall, but there was no answering glow in her eyes, no encouragement.

Julia said: “Let him have it, Mannering, you'll never make money so easily again.”

Mannering said: “If I had the
Tear
money couldn't buy it for Fiori.” He freed himself, backed away, thrust his hands deep into his pockets. “There are things you two forget. Fay is Jacob Bernstein's heiress. The
Tear
belongs to her. If anyone has a right to say what shall happen to it she has. You can't buy it, Yule—and Fiori can't have it as a gift. It isn't simply that, either—there have been five murders now. There's one way the
Tear
should be used, if we ever find it—by serving as bait to fix Fiori. You can try to bribe him, to buy him off—but you can't buy off that kind of savage and I wouldn't try.”

Julia said softly: “Very high-minded. For the first time I doubt whether you have the
Tear.
Even the great Mannering couldn't refuse a profit of a hundred thousand pounds.”

Lorna said: “Oh, you
fool!”
She looked into Mannering's eyes and at last he saw a glow of understanding. The rekindling of belief? It overshadowed everything else – Kenneth Yule's trembling anxiety, Julia's gibes. He felt an inner calmness which he had feared had gone for good. It remained, although Lorna looked away from him quickly, as if she regretted showing him what was in her mind. Mind? Or heart?

Julia said: “All this is most touching. Ken, I'm afraid you're wasting your time. Mannering doesn't know where Fay is, doesn't know where the
Tear
is. Enrico is going to be very disappointed.”

“I must find her!” cried Yule. “Can't
someone
help?” It was like a cry in the wilderness. He went to a chair and dropped into it. Julia crossed to a cabinet, poured out whisky, splashed soda, and took it to him. “I don't want a drink,” muttered Yule, but he took the glass and gulped the whisky down. “If only I had some idea where she is, I'd find her. I've got to find her.”

“You won't find anyone until you've slept the clock round,” Julia said. “Would you like to stay here?”

“I can't sleep!”

“I'll take him home,” said Mannering, and expected an outburst from Yule, opposition from Julia. Yule didn't seem to notice what he said, and Julia smiled gently:

“I don't think you realise what you've done, or what you're facing, just yet,” said Julia. “I've told you before and now I'll tell you again, so that your wife can hear. If anything happens to Fay Goulden it will be your fault. I've known Enrico for a long time. I knew when he first interested himself in Fay. I tried to help her, protected her against him. I think I'm the one human being he won't hurt, who can do anything with him. It was working until you came along. Whatever happens now will be on your conscience. I hope you haven't forgotten the photograph.”

Mannering said: “Oh, you're as innocent as a lily.”

“I've tried to help Fay.”

“Why?”

“Because I'm fond of her.” She paused, then asked abruptly:
“Do
you know where Fay is?”

“No. How long have you known her?”

Julia said slowly, gently: “For many years.”

“Did you know her father?”

Julia turned away abruptly. The glint in her eyes startled Mannering, for it showed alarm – almost the fear which touched so many people and had touched Fay. She pretended to sneeze into her hand, but she hadn't turned away because of that, only to try to hide her expression. When she looked back she was smiling faintly, and yet there was something in her manner which told him he had touched a tender spot.

“Yes, I knew him.”

“Here or in Germany?”

“In Germany.”

“Were you married to Fiori then?”

“No, I hadn't met Fiori. I wish to God I'd never met him!” Passion rang in her voice. “But I did, and was crazy enough to marry him. I learned a lot about Enrico Fiori during those years. His heartlessness, his cruelty, his dispassionate, monstrous capacity for evil.”

“And yet you help him.”

“I've tried to save Fay,” said Julia. “That's all I've done during the past two years. Longer. But if Fay didn't exist I should still help Fiori. Do you know why, Mannering? Because I know him well enough to be frightened of him.”

Mannering said: “There are greater things to fear than your ex-husband.”

“I don't think so.”

Her eyes – bold, clear, challenging – met his, and he was impressed, felt something of the passion which still surged through her. He turned away, not wanting to meet her eyes. Lorna was looking at her with a horrified expression. Then the tension which had come into the room was broken by a new sound. Julia stifled a laugh and relaxed, crossed to the cabinet and said: “Will you have a drink?”

In his armchair Kenneth Yule lay with his mouth wide open, body relaxed, legs stretched out and wide apart, one arm hanging over the side of the chair. He was snoring!

Mannering said: “No thanks. How long have you known Yule?”

“Only a few months.”

“How long has he been going with Fay?”

“For those few months.”

“What do you know about him?”

“He had a wealthy American grandfather. He spent six years in the army and came out to find himself rich and useless. He started to collect jewels. He met Fay at the Hula Club. Fay was—” She hesitated, then went on quickly: “Fay was working as a hostess at the Club.”

“Did Bernstein know that?”

“I've no idea.”

“How well did Bernstein know Fay's father?” Mannering snapped that question, ready for alarm in her eyes, knowing that he had touched a sore spot again.

“I have no idea,” she said.

“Bernstein left her a fortune, presumably out of gratitude. Do you know why?”

“I am not a thought reader.”