Dark Duet

Chapter 1: It Doesn't Hurt Much!-2

Kane said: "There seems to be an awful hurry, doesn't there?" He took out his cigarette case, lit a cigarette.

"Why not?" said the man in the old raincoat. "Do you want to spin it out?" His tone was mildly sarcastic.

"I don't like spinning anything out," said Kane. "But I like to take my time."

The other man shrugged his shoulders.

"I suppose Fenton didn't say anything to you about the Maratta Star?" he said.

"No," said Kane. "And anyway what's the Maratta Star got to do with it?"

"It was one of the boats that was supposed to take children to Canada," said the man in the raincoat. "A submarine got it. It was waiting for it. That was Mrs. Marques— that was. That's her business. Well, maybe there'll be some more ships. Perhaps that's why Fenton's in a hurry."

Kane moved his head slightly. He looked down the narrow street towards St. James's Street. He said:

"That's all right, but I still don't approve of being too fast. I don't like all this quick movement. I don't like Ernie dashing back from Tyrrell's Wood in that car of his. One of these fine days somebody's going to ask how it is that a Belgian refugee—" Kane grinned suddenly— "I beg his pardon— a free Belgian— is able to go dashing about the country in a high-power motor car just at any odd minute. Then they're going to ask questions."

The man in the raincoat shrugged his shoulders again. It was almost an imperceptible shrug. He looked rather bored.

"Well, supposing they do...?" he said.

Kane echoed the words: "Supposing they do.... Well, hasn't it ever struck you that there might be people who are just as interested in Guelvada's movements and mine as we are in those of other people? Somebody's going to ask too many questions— somebody dangerous I mean— not bloody fools like you and Fenton who sit on your backsides in offices and think what smart fellows you are— but people like Guelvada and me. If anybody's going to take the rap then it's going to be us, isn't it? You'll just go on sitting on your backsides."

The other man yawned.

"Nonsense!" he said. "I didn't lose my left hand sitting on my backside."

Kane nodded.

"That's all right," he said. "You have it your way. I still think it's stupid. Well... you're going to phone Guelvada?"

"That's right," said the other. "I think I can give him a tip or two about a very quick contact." He grinned at Kane in the darkness. "Fenton suggested that it might be a good thing if you could finish this business off to-night."

"My God!" said Kane. "You fellows are getting impatient, aren't you?" He threw his cigarette stub away.

"I should think Guelvada would be back in town by nine o'clock," said the other man. "If everything is all right he ought to be at the 'Yellow Bottle'— that pub in Mayfair— somewhere around half-past nine. If I were you I should give him till a quarter to ten. Then you could telephone him there. If he's got on all right you ought to be able to go ahead from there— if he's seen the people I want him to see."

"All right," said Kane. "Is that all?"

"That's all," said the man in the old raincoat. "Good-night, Michael."

Kane said good-night. He walked down the narrow street into St. James's Street.

KANE STOOD just inside the blacked-out stage door, an unlit cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. He waited there two or three minutes; then the stage-door keeper appeared at the head of the stairway and beckoned him. Kane ran up the stairs quickly, followed the man along the corridor, went into the dressing-room. He closed the door behind him, stood leaning against it.

Valetta Fallon was sitting in front of her make-up glass doing her eyebrows. She was wearing a kimono which had fallen open and showed her legs. Kane looked at them appreciatively. He said:

"I don't know whether anybody's ever told you, but you've got the swellest pair of legs I've ever seen in my life, Valetta."

She turned her head towards him and smiled.

"I've an idea that quite a few men have suggested something like that," she said. She looked at him seriously, the eyebrow-brush poised in her hand, "but not during the last nine months," she concluded. "Won't you sit down, Michael? There are cigarettes in the box." She nodded towards it.

Kane hung his hat on the peg behind the door. He sat down. He threw away the unlit cigarette and took a fresh one. He said:

"And why not during the last nine months, Valetta?"

She looked at him sideways along her long eyelashes. Kane thought she was very beautiful. Her features were superbly chiselled; her mouth delicate, sensitive and almost tremulous. Kane, who liked looking at a woman's mouth, thought that he could look at hers for hours on end. It was that sort of mouth.

She said: "You sound as if you're trying to be immoral." She began to smile again. "Possibly, Michael, you've forgotten I've been your mistress for the last nine months?"

He grinned. He looked rather like a mischievous schoolboy. He said: "Why should I forget that?"

She raised her eyebrows.

"I don't know," she said, "except that I fail to understand why you should expect me to receive admiration from other people when I'm supposed to be in love with you."

Kane nodded.

"Oh, that..." he said.

He blew a smoke ring. She put down the eyebrow-brush and turned on the chair. She faced him. She said:

"I wish I knew about you. I wish I knew whether you really are a hard, cynical, extremely tough person, or whether the way you talk and behave is just a pose."

Kane said: "I don't think cynics ever pose. They don't have to. Who would want to pose as being a cynic? Nobody over the age of eighteen admires cynicism. Besides, you don't adopt it as a pose; it's one of those things that are forced on you."

"I see," said Valetta. "And how much cynicism have I forced on you, Michael?"

"None at all," he said with a smile. "Just the opposite. If it weren't for you I would be absolutely and entirely submerged in the depths of cynicism."

She said: "You're an extraordinary person, aren't you? Don't you find anything good in life?"

"Nothing that lasts," said Kane airily.

She picked up the eyebrow-brush again. She looked in the mirror. "I've lasted," she said.

"You've lasted nine months," said Kane. He stubbed out his cigarette end, put his hands in his overcoat pockets.

"I wonder what that means?" asked Valetta. "Does it mean that you don't expect me to last much longer or that you hope I won't last much longer?"

Kane grinned. She found that grin maddening.

He said: "I hope for very little and expect nothing. I'm damned glad of what I get." He went on: "Let's be constructive about you. When a woman falls in love with a man she has to get something out of it, doesn't she?"

She got up, slipped off the kimono, began to wriggle into her stage frock. She had a superb figure. She hoped he would realise that. It was some time before she said:

"Well, what does she have to get out of it? She doesn't have to get something out of it, does she, Michael?"

He nodded. He was smiling quite pleasantly.

"She must get something," he said, "otherwise it's no soap. When a woman definitely realises that a man is no soap she does something about it, especially a woman like you, Valetta."

She smiled at him. She powdered her nose, leaning forward so that the powder should not touch her frock.

"Has it never occurred to you that I may have got something out of you, Michael?" she said.

He raised one eyebrow. "Such as...?" he queried.

"Such as a lot of fun for one thing," said Valetta.

"I wouldn't describe myself as a particularly amusing type of man," he said.

She sat down on the chair suddenly, her hands clasped in her lap, looking at him. She was concentrating.

"Neither would I," said Valetta. "You're not. But there is something damned fascinating about you. You're one of those men who don't require a background. Have another cigarette, Michael."

He said: "Thanks."

She took a cigarette from the box, lit it, handed it to him. He noticed the mark of her lipstick on the end. He drew on the cigarette.

"This is interesting," he said. "So I'm the type of man who doesn't require a background. Elucidate that mysterious remark, Valetta."

She thought for a moment.

"Well," she said eventually, "one meets some men and one's only really interested because one knows all about them. For instance, you meet a man. He's rather brusque; he seems hard. You wouldn't be attracted in the normal course of events; and then you find that he's a man who's done quite big things in his life. You realise that the things he's done have made him tough. They're responsible for his character. Knowing that, you're still prepared to be interested in him. If you didn't know you'd probably dismiss him from your mind. Do you understand? I'm not very good at explaining what I think," she concluded.

"I understand," said Kane. He blew a smoke ring, watched it sail across the dressing-room.

"But you'd be all right anyhow," she said. "Whatever you were, whatever your job was, whatever you did, you'd still be you. You are a fascinating person. You are an intriguing person. Quite independently of whatever it is you do... which reminds me—" She stopped speaking, looked at him. Her eyes were bright and a little wicked. Her mouth was smiling. Kane wanted to take her in his arms.

"Which reminds you of what?" he said.

"Do you remember the first time we met, Michael?" she said. "The night they dropped that bomb and blew that place in, with all those people underneath? Do you remember how I flung myself into your arms for protection? Was I scared!"

"And was I scared?" said Kane.

"I don't know about that," said Valetta. "You weren't too scared to take full advantage of the situation."

"I beg your pardon!" said Kane.

"There is no need to," she said. "I thought your technique was superb. But the point I was getting at was this: When we arranged to dine together and I was getting ready to meet you, I made up my mind to ask you exactly what it was you did, and somehow when the time came I didn't want to. I thought I'd like to keep you, in my mind, as a rather mysterious sort of person."

Kane nodded.

"I see," he said. "So you'd already put me down as a sort of 'steady,' had you?" He grinned at her ironically. He showed a fine set of white teeth.

"What I thought is my business," said Valetta. "But the fact remains I didn't ask you what you were, and when I'd left you and we'd arranged to meet again, and I was lying in bed looking at the ceiling and thinking about you, I made up my mind that the next time I saw you I really would ask you."

Kane said: "What was it made you forget?"

"Oh, you wouldn't know, would you?" said Valetta.

"I've got an idea... But go on..." said Kane.

"Well," she continued, "I've sort of carried it on from time to time. One of these fine days I'll satisfy my curiosity." She stopped speaking. Then quite suddenly said: "Michael, what do you do?"

He blew another smoke ring. He said:

"I suppose one could say that you were fairly well experienced, Valetta. You're no fool, are you? You're a pretty good judge of character. Now, what would you think I was?"