There was a sharp tinkle as the knife fell on the floor. At the same time, the Italian extricated himself with a swift twist from Anthony’s grasp. Anthony sprang up too, but made the mistake of moving towards the door to cut off the other’s retreat. He saw, too late, that the chair and the water-bottle were just as he had arranged them.
Giuseppe had entered by the window, and it was the window he made for now. In the instant’s respite given him by Anthony’s move toward the door, he had sprung out on the balcony, leaped over to the adjoining balcony and had disappeared through the adjoining window.
Anthony knew well enough that it was of no use to pursue him. His way of retreat was doubtless fully assured. Anthony would merely get himself into trouble.
He walked over to the bed, thrusting his hand beneath the pillow and drawing out the Memoirs. Lucky that they had been there and not in the suit-case. He crossed over to the suit-case and looked inside, meaning to take out the letters.
Then he swore softly under his breath.
The letters were gone.
6
The Gentle Art of Blackmail
It was exactly five minutes to four when Virginia Revel, rendered punctual by a healthy curiosity, returned to the house in Pont Street. She opened the door with her latchkey, and stepped into the hall to be immediately confronted by the impassive Chilvers.
“I beg pardon, ma’am, but a—a person has called to see you——”