The Power Cube Affair - Phillifent John T. (версия книг .txt) 📗

"Certainly not." Kuryakin's voice was icily polite now. "That's the wrong way, isn't it? The next time your life is in danger I'll write a long letter to Charles, to tell him all about it, give him time to work out some careful plan, while you sit and count your fingers!"

"You know how to hurt," she whispered, "when you want to."

"Nobody is trying to hurt you," Solo growled at her, and then leaned forward to check with the Wren driver. "Miss Heston, do you have instructions where to take us?"

"No, sir. Wherever you say."

"Right. Back with you in a moment." He fixed Nan with a hard eye. "We can go to your place first. You'll get Charles on the phone and ask him where he has been getting the tipoffs about the drugs. Maybe that will go part of the way to establishing some kind of evidence. Now, you tell her the route." She did more. She had the car stopped while she removed herself to the front seat, and then they roared on once more.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Illya," Solo muttered.

"By which I gather that you have not yet cracked the riddle?"

"You know damned well I haven't. But I will."

And by the time they pulled into the forecourt of Nan's home, he had. At least, he believed he had, but he left it unsaid as he saw the white lines of rage around her jaw and the way she strode indoors and to the phone.

"The inquiries will take a moment or two. No reason why we can't rest and have a cup of something. Curtis!"

"Very glad to see you safe and sound again, miss. And you, Mr. Solo, Mr. Kuryakin. I hope you dealt with them properly?"

"I'm afraid we were rather crude and rough," Kuryakin said, and Nan beamed him a glare of blue fire before putting on a smile for Miss Heston. It was almost fifteen minutes before Charles came through. Solo stood by her shoulder as she took it, and heard the old voice, tinged with irritation.

"I hope you have good reason for this, Nan. I don't usually betray my sources, and it's not always easy to back check them. However, you say Solo wanted to know, and I respect his guesswork. The tips have been corning, in the first place, from a chap called Hagen. That what you wanted?"

"That's what we thought." Solo grabbed the instrument as she choked on the words. "And not my intuition, Illya's. He's the inspired one between us. I just do the hard work. I think we're going to have that power cube for you, soon."

"Power cube? What the devil do you know about that?"

"Plenty. We'll get back to you later." He hung up and put a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. "Don't let it throw you, Nan. We can all make mistakes. I've made a few, one way or another. Come on, let's get it over with."

Again she sat up front with Miss Heston, to point the way, but now there was a droop to her shoulders. She turned to point as they took the sharp dip she had told them about.

"There's my poor old Princess."

Danby Hall didn't look nearly so fiendish by daylight, just an old and cozily weatherbeaten old mansion, with a gleaming white MG standing in the sunlight as they rolled to a stop.

"Nice car!" Solo commented, as they climbed out. "Who drives that, Evadne?"

"She and Monty share it between them. Shall we go in?"

They were approached by a stately butler, last seen by Solo in the guise of a Roman slave. He suppressed a grin at the thought.

"We'd like to see her ladyship, please," he said.

"I will inquire—" the butler began, and was cut short by a twitter from the top of a magnificent stairway. Lady Herriott came trotting down.

"Nan! And the two fugitives! What a lovely surprise! I'm furious with you two, of course, for running away the other night, but I'll forgive you if you'll promise to come again some other time. Will you?"

"That's hard to say. Lady Herriott, this is hardly a social call."

"Oh!" She fluttered a hand anxiously. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know yet. I'd like to see your rubies, if possible."

"These?" She twined her fingers in the string at her neck!

"And the other two sets. All at once, please!"

"Nan told you! Don't you think it was a clever idea?"

"Very ingenious," Kuryakin murmured. "Your own?"

"Heavens, no! I'm not a bit clever like that. No, Monty thought of it. He's bright, you know. Come along and I'll show you." She went trotting back upstairs and along a broad passage rainbow-lit by sunlight through stained glass windows. A door stood open at the far end, leading to an interior that was, predictably, in all shades of green. Lady Herriott scurried to an old-fashioned escritoire, then paused in indecision.

"Monty takes care of all my jewelry and trinkets. He really ought to be here. But I don't suppose he will mind. Here you are." She reached into a recess and brought out a lacquered work box, lifted the lid and set it down. Kuryakin went forward to look, to put in his fingers and lift out a string of egg sized bloodred stones, interspersed with delicate gold filigree. Lady Herriott. bowed her head and slipped off the string she was wearing, added it to the rest.

"There you are!" she said triumphantly. "I will wager you can't tell which is the genuine set!"

Kuryakin lifted out another, laid all three on the dark wood. He looked at her curiously. "You say this was Hagen's idea? And, I understand, you can't tell the difference yourself?"

"That's right. Aren't they good?"

"Very fine. Just one more thing. When you travel, you carry them all like this? All in that box?"

"Of course. That's the box I keep them in."

Solo sighed. He heard Nan Perrell gasp as it struck her. Kuryakin shook his head sadly. "Madam, you're not safe to be let loose. Don't you realize that this whole scheme to frustrate a possible thief, is useless? When all he has to do is lift the whole box and sort out one from the other later on, at his leisure?"

She stared, and then her face crumpled into total confusion. Watching her, Solo felt that she was either an incredible actress or just plain stupid. Then she said, "You must think me a fool. But still," she rallied valiantly, "you must admit that it works. I mean, they haven't been stolen, have they?"

"No? If you can't tell the real from the fake, how do you know that any of them are genuine?"

This time Lady Herriott staggered, her face chalk white and showing its age. "You'd better sit," Kuryakin advised. "There's more. A lot more." At that moment Evadne scampered into the room, dripping water and clutching a white bath towel negligently about her curves. She braked to a halt at the sight of company.

"Hello, you two! Hey, what's all the panic about? Monty just came bursting into the bathroom demanding the car keys—"

"Car keys!" Solo snapped, heading for the door. There came the sudden snarl of a revving engine from outside.

"Hold it!" Nan Perrell called, and stepped to the window. "You'll never catch him that way, but I can. She shoved the swinging pane, swept up her brief skirt with a double handed grab, rested her forearms on the ledge, and Kuryakin was there, looking over her shoulder. Her right hand weapon coughed and snapped. Down there the MG's rear right wheel exploded loudly, lifting the tail of the car up and around. As it swung her left hand gun spoke, snapped, and the corresponding front wheel erupted loudly. The car heeled over, hung a moment, then fell back and bounced heavily. She leaned out into the sunlight.