Son of Holmes

12

All the shops had been closed on Sunday, and Henri had bickered with his wife and gone fishing alone. No one had seen him. He’d caught no fish, though when he returned, his boots had been wet. Tuesday, tomorrow, he would be making a delivery of condiments to St. Etie

I then sent a telegram to Avignon, where, according to the list he’d left with the police, Georges should have been staying. I expected no reply until evening at the earliest.

It was a cool and overcast day. The changes in weather had been abrupt, but one expected that in the spring. Perhaps the clouds would burn off by the afternoon.

I walked from the telegraph office to Lupa’s with my hands thrust deep into the pockets of my overcoat, seeing no one on my way.

He sat enthroned in his office. That’s the only way to describe him. So he had abandoned his schedule. It was after ten o’clock, and by all rights, he should have been up on the street with beer and newspaper. As it was, he sat behind his huge desk with the paper open before him and a glass by his left hand.

“Hello,” I said, sitting down. I’d asked Charles for coffee on the way through the kitchen and awaited him. “So you’ve given up working altogether.”

“I beg your pardon.” He looked up.

“You look so settled there, it’s hard to imagine that you’ll ever move back to the world of labor.”

“Cooking is not a labor but a love. I intend to continue with my duties here.” He put the paper aside. “You’ve read that Italy has joined us? That, at least, is good news. How are you today?”

I told him about Pulis and the telegram while Charles was pouring my coffee. He listened with his eyes closed, leaning back far in his chair. When I had finished, he frowned.

“It would make things much easier if we could ever eliminate someone completely. You say he’s going to St. Etie

As I nodded, there was a loud, ringing alarm. Lupa reached to a button on his desk and pressed it, shutting off the noise. He calmly opened his desk and took out his pistol, checking to see that it was loaded. “Stay here,” he said to me and disappeared into the tu

“… So it seems possible, though rather a long shot,” said the Englishman as he came into the room. “Ah, hello. I didn’t realize you were here.”

“He’s only just arrived,” said Lupa. “Would you have some coffee? Tea?”

“Tea, please.”

“Fine.” He ordered it, and we waited.

“Excuse me,” I said, “but what seems possible?”

Lupa closed his paper. “Joseph here has just returned from St. Etie

Watkins slouched in his chair, looking rather ragged, as though he hadn’t slept. The tea arrived, and he sipped at it. Suddenly, when he was about to speak, his eyes became illuminated, and he lost his vacant look. It was amazing, almost as though he were two different people.

“Actually, I never did get a good look at his face. He had brownish hair, I think, dressed plainly, about six foot.” He smiled. “Brilliant description, what? Could as well be me I’m talking about.” Then he shifted back into himself and sat as though he’d been deflated, sipping at his tea. “God, I’m tired.”

“Why don’t you get yourself some sleep? Are you going back to St. Etie

“I thought I’d go down a bit later, say after dark.”

Lupa nodded. “Satisfactory. I’m getting ready to move, to create something if necessary. I’ve got a good guess who we want. By the way, Pulis is coming down tomorrow morning to deliver. Watch him.” He turned to me. “How does he go down?”

“Produce cart, I imagine.”

“Good, then he’ll be easy to pick up. Catch him outside of town and follow him everywhere. If he meets anyone… well, do what you can. It would be nice if we could use the police.”

Watkins stood and moved to the door. “Got it.”

“This trip back and forth must get tedious. When you go down, stay until you have something. I have a feeling things are coming to a head.”

“Yes, sir,” he said and started out.

“Oh, Watkins!”

He stopped and looked back in.

“Don’t you think it might be better if you exited the same way you entered? It’s just possible that someone might notice you coming out of a building you’d never entered. Also, in the future, why not try coming in by way of the restaurant.”

“Right, right, right…” he muttered, crossing the room again. “The plants need watering. I’ve turned on the lights.” He left.

“No olives?” I asked.

“Certainly an oversight. Is there anything else?”

“I was wondering where A

He sighed. “You’re right. There is much you don’t need to know. Ideally, you wouldn’t know Watkins, but there’s no harm in that. For the other things, wait a few more days. You might treat people differently if you knew their alignment with us. For now, you know enough to do your job.”

“Well, then, A

“Yes?”

“I’d like to know if Tania’s in danger with her being there, or if that was arranged by you.”

“Oh, no. Certainly not. I’m concerned, in fact, about any danger A

“Not that again.”

“No,” he said. “No, not that again. We are simply in different camps on that question, and I’m afraid it won’t be resolved until I’ve seen Madame Chessal’s family, perhaps until the whole matter is closed. But A

“Is she with us?”

“Not in the sense you mean. I’ve gotten myself entangled with her. She knows generally what my functions are, and sometimes she’s a great help, but she works for no government. I think when she leaves Madame Chessal’s care, I’m going to send her away. We’ve talked of marriage.”

“Congratulations.”

“Posh! A man shouldn’t be congratulated when he finds himself trapped. I feel I owe it to her, in a way. She’s done a lot for me.”

“But that’s terrible!” I said. “Don’t you love her at all?”

“Oh, love. Come, Jules, let’s not be sentimental. Surely, I care for her, but I realize that these things pass. I’m too much my own man to tolerate a woman around for very long. Still”-he sighed-“she is a good woman. I suppose there’s no help for it. I will send her away for a while.” He sat back and closed his eyes. The alarm once more sounded.

“That would be Watkins again. I should show him the switch. Well?” he said after a pause. “Anything else?”

“Yes, there is. Talking of A

He opened his eyes a fraction. “Hmmm…”

“I expect there’ll be some trouble.”

“Undoubtedly. Why?”

“Transfer.”

“The fools! Don’t they believe there’s trouble here? Their own agents are dying consistently. So you’ve quit. Well, good. I’ll see if I’ll be able to assuage some of their more retaliatory instincts. Don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t,” I said, getting up.

“Fine. Wednesday night?”

“Oh, yes, all set with Henri and Tania. Georges said anywhere would be all right with him, and I’m going to see Paul now, so I’ll let you know. Oh, one more thing: the police want to see me. They’ve possibly seen me come here. How well do I know you?”