'I do not follow,' he said.
'You searched my room last night,' I reminded him.
He looked at me hard. Then he said, 'Whoever searched your room, Mr Blair, it was not me — that I assure you.' And he closed the door. I at once got up and locked it.
CHAPTER SIX
AN UGLY SCENE
When I looked out of my window next morning it was a different world. There was no sunshine, no sharp contrast between black and white. The sky was grey with falling snow — large flakes that moved slowly downwards in their millions. The ground was a dull blanket of white. The trees were so laden with snow that they scarcely seemed trees at all. The belvedere was no longer a platform of bare boards. It was a square of virgin white, the round table tops bulging with snow like giant mushrooms.
I felt quite all right — just tired and very stiff. I went downstairs and phoned Emilio at the bottom of the slittovia. He told me that the sleigh could make it at the moment, but that if the wind rose and the snow began to drift, it would not be possible. I then phoned the Splendido and left a message for Engles that if he could get through to Tre Croci, the slittovia would be able to bring him up to Col da Varda. Then I told Aldo to prepare the remaining room.
I suppose I should now switch straight to Engles' arrival at Col da Varda, for nothing happened until after he had arrived. But, since everything hinged on that event, I must give some account of the strange air of expectancy that pervaded the bar room that morning.
In the case of Joe and myself it was understandable. Joe was mentally preparing himself for a verbal clash with his director. 'Engles will be full of ideas, damn his eyes,' he grumbled to me. 'But a film's got to have a focal point, and the focal point, as I see it, is this hut and the slittovia. It's a terrific setting. Look at it this morning! Another few hours and we'll be snowbound up here. What a situation for, say, a group of people who hate each other, or whose interests clash!' This was said to me at breakfast, and the others listened to his words with peculiar attention. 'And the slittovia,' he added. 'I've got some fine shots of it. Rig up a dummy sleigh and have it hurtle down with the cable broken. And a ski chase — I've got a wonderful shot of you, Neil, as you came down that pass and collapsed at our feet. If Engles doesn't agree with me — damn it, I'll resign.'
Joe was strung up and marshalling his points. And for myself, I must admit to a sense of excitement. After all that had happened, I felt certain Engles must tell me why he had sent me out here.