The Corfu Affair - Phillifent John T. (серии книг читать бесплатно .txt) 📗

"Kate! You smart girl, you're a lifesaver. Now, quick, find the switch for these damned shackles and get us loose before she comes back."

"Where?" she quavered, staring helplessly about. "Where do I look?"

"Back of us, somewhere," Kuryakin advised. "Try the wall. She came from that direction... Too late, here she comes! Grab my gun, quickly!"

Katherine halted, dithered in confusion, then shrieked as Louise ran back into the room. One fast glance from those keen eyes was enough to take in the situation. Snarling, the Countess plunged forward. Katherine, driven into frantic action, leaped for the gun, missed it, sent it skittering away into a corner. She dived after it. Louise screeched and dived after her. The pair of them went down in a furious tangle of arms and legs on the floor, where the three prisoners could see nothing of what was happening. They could only hope and pray, as they listened to the swelling roar of the flames.

The stench of burning was very strong now. They could hear the snap and crackle of vigorous flames as priceless tapestries and rare antiques caught fire and roared into destruction. Over the roar came the squeals and gasps of the two struggling contestants for the pistol. All at once came the whip crack of a shot. A groan. Then a terrifying silence. And then a long slim arm came up over the table, bore down, and Katherine stood up, shakily, with the pistol in her hand. She stared down. With her other hand she brushed away the tangle of blonde hair from her face. She was chalk white.

"I shot her!" she gasped. Then, more loudly: "I shot her. She's dead!" She seemed to stare at the gun in her hand as if puzzled as to how it had come there. Then she shrieked and threw it violently away.

"I've killed her!" she moaned.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

"MISS WINTER!" Kuryakin pitched his voice to a brisk and authoritative snap. "Forget about that for the moment. It will keep. We won't. You must find the switch that controls these chairs!"

The sharp edge on his voice sliced through the frightening fog in her mind. She lifted her head, turned to look dazedly at him, and he managed a reassuring smile for her.

"Come on now, be a good girl and find those switches. Please? They must be at the back of us somewhere, on the wall."

She shivered, then went unsteadily around the table and out of their sight. Long folding ribbons of smoke began to slide in at the door. The full-throated roar of distant burning was quite distinct now. Susan coughed as a stray whiff of fumes got to her throat.

"I can't find anything!" Katherine wailed. "There isn't—I can't—oh, wait a bit. Is this it?"

Something whirred and the chrome-steel bands slid swiftly back out of the way. Both men were up and on their feet rapidly and across to the door. One glance was enough.

"That's not even worth trying, Napoleon. Not worth wasting time on. You'd better get Susan out onto the balcony, quick. My tackle is still there. You should make it all right. I'll take care of Miss Winter."

Susan Harvey was a lot slower than the men in getting to her feet. Her legs weren't working very well. She had to lean on the table. She felt sick as Solo came to take her arm, and she was deathly pale. Kuryakin went straight on past him to where Katherine was straining against a wall, shaking her head as if to dislodge the thoughts in her mind.

"I killed her!" she mumbled, biting on a knuckle. "I killed her!"

"You had no choice, my dear. You did very well, and we owe you a lot. That was absolutely brilliant of you, to hide yourself among those nudes."

The word "nudes" struck home, penetrated her shocked mind, and she gasped, then cringed in a vain attempt to cover herself. Kuryakin bit back the urgent words on his tongue that this didn't matter at the moment. His common sense warned him that this was a very frightened girl, only just clinging to the thin edge of control.

He spun away, saw Solo leading Susan Harvey unsteadily towards the window. The room was beginning to fill with grey pungent smoke. He looked round anxiously, then stepped away to reach up and pluck a gorgeous Castilian shawl from the wall. Spreading it, he went back to Katherine.

"Here you are," he said quietly. "Wrap it round you. You'll need it. We're going out of the window in a moment." She stood helplessly and allowed him to drape the shawl about her body.

The room was suddenly very hot. The open window had provided a through-draft that was feeding oxygen to the fire. The parquet floor began to smolder in several places. A leaping fringe of yellow flames danced along the passage outside and leaned in at the doorway. He took her bare arm firmly and hurried her across the room to the window, out onto the balcony, shutting and securing the double windows tight behind them. Susan Harvey was peering over the balcony edge into the darkness down there.

"I can't go down!" she choked. "I can't! Not down there!"

"Oh yes, you can!" Solo told her firmly. "You just hang on to me, and you can shut your eyes if you like, but you are definitely going down!"

He settled securely into the seat harness, took her in his arms, and stepped off. The slim cable purred as it ran out. Kuryakin leaned over and out to steady it as it ran, Katherine shivering by his side and staring down in wide-eyed fright. It was a long drop down the front of the building, and the night was thick with billowing greenish fumes. The dropping pair went out of sight in the smoke. Then there came a momentary break in the pall and they saw Solo touchdown and roll over. They saw burly men dash for to help. Then, all at once, that scene down there was lit up stark and clear by a gush of spouting flames from the lower windows.

Solo got free, halted just long enough to wave, then ran. Kuryakin hoisted up furiously. He felt Katherine cringe close to him, felt her shaking with fear. And he knew that her fear was justified. But now he needed her sane and steady. cooperation as never before. He needed something to push her thoughts away from the danger they were in. He tried an old gambit, as he yanked at the cable with long-arm grabs.

"What's a nice girl like you doing in a low dive like this?"

She giggled almost hysterically, and then, in a much saner voice, she said, "You'd never believe it if I told you. I mean. I haven't a badge or anything."

"Nothing to pin it on, either. What?"

"I'm C.I.A. At least, in a sort of way, I am."

"You are?" Her totally unexpected reply almost made him miss his grab on the line. "How come?"

"I suppose I'm not, not really. You see, the Countess advertised for a cook-housekeeper who would do companion duties. I applied, and got the job. I really am a good cook, you know!"

"Yes, I do know," he smiled. "Napoleon told me about that part."

"And then along came this strange man, showed me his credentials and everything, said he was a colonel, I believe. He said he wanted me to write him a letter regularly, to tell him the names and descriptions of anybody who visited the Countess. Just that and nothing more. He said there would be nothing dangerous about it!"

Kuryakin reached for the harness, settled himself into it, then held out his arms to her with a smile. "He was wrong on that, though, wasn't he? Still, not to worry. Come on, hold on to me."

She hesitated, suddenly shy, clutching the shawl and aware of its inadequacy. At that moment the heavy drapes on the far side of the window burst into sudden fire and flared into brilliant destruction against the glass. The wind sizzled, then cracked and burst open to spout out a great bellowing blast of fire.