M. Callard’s eyelids were half-closed. His cigar rolled to and fro between his fingers and thumb.
‘So. You see a little boy and a man and a woman. Let me tell you that early this afternoon a friend of my works superintendent visited the factory with his wife and boy and that undoubtedly it was this boy whom you saw.’
‘With respect, what is the make of the car of the friend of Monsieur’s works superintendent?’
‘I do not concern myself with the cars of my employees’ acquaintances.’
‘Or with the age and appearance of their children, Monsieur?’
‘Precisely.’
‘This was a light blue Citroën, 1946, Monsieur, and the boy was Riki, the son of Monsieur and Madame, a young gentleman whom I know well. He was not two hundred yards away and was speaking his bizarre French, the French of an English child. His face was as unmistakable,’ said Raoul, looking full into M. Callard’s face, ‘as Monsieur’s own. It was Riki.’
M. Callard turned to Alleyn: ‘How much of all that did you get?’he asked.
Alleyn said: ‘Not a great deal. When he talks to us he talks slowly. But I’m sure –’
‘Pardon me,’ M. Callard said and turned smilingly to Raoul.
‘My friend,’ he said, ‘you are undoubtedly a conscientious man. But I assure you that you are making a mistake. Mistakes can cost a lot of money. On the other hand, they sometimes yield a profit. As much, for the sake of argument, as five thousand francs. Do you follow me?’
‘No, Monsieur.’
‘Are you sure? Perhaps,’ suggested M. Callard, thrusting his unoccupied hand casually into his breast pocket, ‘when we are alone I may have an opportunity to make my meaning plainer and more acceptable.’
‘I regret. I shall still be unable to follow it,’ Raoul said.
M. Callard drew a large handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed his lips with it. ‘Sacré nigaud,’ he said pleasantly and shot a venomous glance at Raoul before turning to Troy and Alleyn.
‘My dear good people,’ he said expansively, ‘I’m afraid this boy has kidded you along quite a bit. He admits that he did not get a good look at the child. He was up on the hillside with a dame and his attention was – well, now,’ said M. Callard smirking at Troy, ‘shall we say kind of semi-detached. It’s what I thought. He’s told you what he figures you’d like to be told and if you ask him again he’ll roll out the same tale all over.’
‘I’m afraid I don’t believe that,’ said Alleyn.
‘I’m afraid you don’t have an alternative,’ said M. Callard. He turned on Raoul. ‘Fichez-moi le camp,’ he said roughly.
‘What’s that?’ Alleyn demanded.
‘I’ve told him to get out.’
‘Vous permettez, Madame, Monsieur?’ Raoul asked and placed himself between the two men with his back to M. Callard.
‘What?’ Alleyn said. He winked at Raoul. Raoul responded with an ineffable grimace. ‘What? Oh, all right. All right. Oui. Allez.’
With a bow to Troy and another that was rather less respectful than a nod to M. Callard, Raoul went out. Alleyn walked up to the desk and took up his former position.
‘I’m not satisfied,’ he said.
‘That’s too bad.’
‘I must ask you to let me search this building.’
‘You!’ said M. Callard and laughed. ‘Pardon my mirth but I guess there’d be two of you gone missing if you tried that one. This is quite a building, Mr’ – he glanced again at Alleyn’s note –’Mr Allen.’
‘If it’s as big as all that your secretary’s inquiries were too brief to be effective. I don’t believe any inquiries have been made.’
‘Look!’ M. Callard said and smacked the top of his desk with a flat palm. ‘This sound system operates throughout these works. I can speak to every department or all departments together. We don’t have to go round on a hiking trip when we make general inquiries. Now!’
‘Thank you,’ Alleyn said and his hand darted over the switchboard. There was a click. ‘Ricky!’ he shouted and Troy cried out: ‘Ricky! Are you there! Ricky!’
And as if they had conjured it from the outer reaches of space a small voice said excitedly: ‘They’ve come! Mummy!’
A protesting outcry was cut off as M. Callard struck at Alleyn’s hand with a heavy paper knife. At the same moment M. Dupont walked into the room.
CHAPTER 8
Ricky Regained
Troy could scarcely endure the scene that followed and very nearly lost control of herself. She couldn’t understand a word of what was said. Alleyn held her by the arm and kept saying: ‘In a minute, darling. He’ll be here in a minute. He’s all right. Hold on. He’s all right.’
Dupont and Callard were behaving like Frenchmen in English farces. Callard, especially, kept giving shrugs that began in his middle and surged up to his ears. His synthetic Americanisms fell away and when he threw a sentence in English at Troy or at Alleyn he spoke it like a Frenchman. He shouted to Alleyn: ‘If I lose my temper it is natural. I apologize. I knew nothing. It was the fault of my staff. There will be extensive dismissals. I am the victim of circumstances. I regret that I struck you.’
He pounded his desk bell and shouted orders into the sound system. Voices from the other places said in midair: ‘Immédiatement, Mle Directeur.’ ‘Tout de suite, Monsieur.’ ‘Parfaitement, M. le Directeur.’ The secretary ran in at a high-heeled double and set up a gabble of protest which was cut short by Dupont. She teetered out again and could be heard yelping down her own sound system.
With one part of her mind Troy thought of the door and how it must soon open for Ricky, and with another part she thought it was unlucky to anticipate this event and that the door would open for the secretary or a stranger and, so complicated were her thoughts, she also wondered if, when she saw Ricky, he would have a blank look of panic in his eyes, or if he would cry or be casually pleased or if these speculations too were unlucky and he wouldn’t come at all.
Stifled and terrified, she turned on Dupont and Callard and cried out: ‘Please speak English. You both can. Where is he? Why doesn’t he come?’
‘Madame,’ said Dupont gently, ‘he is here.’
He had come in as she turned away from the door.
The secretary was behind him. She gave his shoulder a little push and he made a fastidious movement away from her and into the room. Troy knew that if she spoke her voice would shake. She held out her hand.
‘Hallo, Rick,’ Alleyn said. ‘Sorry we’ve muddled you about.’
‘You have, rather,’ Ricky said. He saw Dupont and Callard. ‘How do you do,’ he said. He looked at Troy and his lip trembled. He ran savagely into her arms and fastened himself upon her. His fierce hard little body was rammed against hers, his arms gripped her neck and his face burrowed into it. His heart thumped piston-like at her breast.
‘We’ll take him out to the car,’ Alleyn said.
Troy rose, holding Ricky with his legs locked about her waist. Alleyn steadied her and they went out through the secretary’s room and the lobby and the entrance hall to where Raoul waited in the sunshine.
II
When they approached the car Ricky released his hold on his mother as abruptly as he had imposed it. She put him down and he walked a little distance from her. He acknowledged Raoul’s greeting with an uncertain nod and stood with his back turned to them apparently looking at M. Dupont’s car, which was occupied by three policemen.
Alleyn murmured; ‘He’ll get over it all right. Don’t worry.’
‘He thinks we’ve let him down. He’s lost his sense of security.’
‘We can do something about that. He’s puzzled. Give him a moment and then I’ll try.’
He went over to the police car.
‘I suppose,’ Ricky said to nobody in particular, ‘Daddy’s not going away again.’
Troy moved close to him. ‘No, darling, I don’t think so. Not far anyway. He’s on a job, though, helping the French police.’
>
‘Are those French policemen?’
‘Yes. And the man you saw in that place is a French detective.’
‘As good as Daddy?’
‘I don’t expect quite as good but good all the same. He helped us find you.’
Ricky said: ‘Why did you let me be got lost?’
‘Because,’ Troy explained with a dryness in her throat, ‘Daddy didn’t know about it. As soon as he knew, it was all right, and you weren’t lost any more. We came straight up here and got you.’
The three policemen were out of the car and listening ceremoniously to Alleyn. Ricky watched them. Raoul, standing by his own car, whistled a lively air and rolled a cigarette.
‘Let’s go and sit with Raoul, shall we?’ Troy suggested, ‘until Daddy’s ready to come home with us.’
Ricky looked miserably at Raoul and away again. ‘He might be cross with me,’ he muttered.
‘Raoul cross with you, darling? No. Why?’
‘Because – because – I – lost – I lost –’
‘No, you didn’t!’ Troy cried. ‘We found it. Wait a moment.’ She rootled in her bag. ‘Look.’
She held out the little silver goat. Ricky’s face was transfused with a flush of relief. He took the goat carefully into his square hands. ‘He’s the nicest thing I’ve ever had,’ he said. ‘He shines in the night. Il s’illume. Raoul and lady said he does.’
‘Has he got a name?’
‘His name’s Goat,’ Ricky said.
He walked over to the car. Raoul opened the door and he got into the front seat casually displaying the goat.
‘C’est ça,’ Raoul said comfortably. He glanced down at Ricky, nodded three times with an air of sagacity and lit his cigarette. Ricky shoved one hand in the pocket of his shorts and leant back. ‘Coming, Mum?’ he asked.
Troy got in beside him. Alleyn called Raoul who swept off his chauffeur’s cap to Troy and excused himself.
‘What’s going to happen?’ Ricky asked.
‘I think Daddy’s got a job for them. He’ll come and tell us in a minute.’
‘Could we keep Raoul?’
‘While we are here I think we can.’
‘I daresay he wouldn’t like to live with us always.’
‘Well, his family lives here. I expect he likes being with them.’
‘I do think he’s nice, however. Do you?’
‘Very,’ Troy said warmly. ‘Look, there he goes with the policemen.’
M. Dupont had appeared in the factory entrance. He made a crisp signal. Raoul and the three policemen walked across and followed him into the factory. Alleyn came to the car and leant over the door. He pulled Ricky’s forelock and said: ‘How’s the new policeman?’
Ricky blinked at him. ‘Why?’ he asked.
‘I think you’ve helped us to catch up with some bad lots.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, because they thought we’d be so busy looking for you we wouldn’t have time for them. But sucks to them, we didn’t lose you and do you know why?’
‘Why?’
‘Because you waved from the balcony and dropped your silver goat and that was a clue and because you called out to us and we knew you were there. Pretty good.’
Ricky was silent.
Troy said: ‘Jolly good, helping Daddy like that.’
Ricky was turned away from her. She could see the charming back of his neck and the curve of his cheek. He hunched his shoulders and tucked in his chin.
‘Was the fat, black smelly lady a bad lot?’ he asked in a casual tone.
‘Not much good,’ Alleyn said.
‘Where is she?’
‘Oh, I shut her up. She’s a silly old thing, really. Better shut up.’
‘Was the other one a bad lot?’
‘Which one?’
‘The Nanny.’
Alleyn and Troy looked at each other over his head.
‘The one who fetched you from the hotel?’ Alleyn asked.
‘Yes, the new Nanny.’
‘Oh, that one. Hadn’t she got a red hat or something?’
‘She hadn’t got a hat. She’d got a moustache.’
‘Really? Was her dress red perhaps?’
‘No. Black with kind of whitey blobs.’
‘Did you like her?’
‘Not extra much. Quite, though. She wasn’t bad. I didn’t think I had to have a Nan over here.’
‘Well, you needn’t. She was a mistake. We won’t have her.’
‘Anyway, she shouldn’t have left me there with the fat lady, should she, Daddy?’
‘No,’ Alleyn reached over the door and took the goat. He held it up admiring it. ‘Nice, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘Did she speak English, that Nanny?’
‘Not properly. A bit. The man didn’t.’
‘The driver?’
‘’M.’
Was he a chauffeur like Raoul?’
‘No. He had funny teeth. Sort of black. Funny sort of driver for a person to have. He didn’t have a cap like Raoul or anything. Just a red beret and no coat and he wasn’t very clean either. He’s Mr Garbel’s driver, only Mr Garbel’s a Mademoiselle and not a Mr.’
‘Is he? How d’you know?’
‘May I have Goat again, please? Because the Nanny said you were waiting for me in Mademoiselle Garbel’s room. Only you weren’t. And because Mademoiselle Garbel rang up. The lady in the goat shop has got other people that light themselves at night too. Saints and shepherds and angels and Jesus. Pretty decent.’
‘I’ll have a look next time I’m there. When did Miss Garbel ring up, Rick?’
‘When I was in her room. The fat lady told the Nanny. They didn’t know about me understanding, which was sucks to them.’
‘What did the fat lady say?’
‘“Mademoiselle Garbel a téléphoné.” Easy!’
‘What did she telephone about, do you know?’
‘Me. She said they were to take me away and they told me you would be here. Only –’
Ricky stopped short and looked wooden. He had turned rather white.
‘Only – ?’ Alleyn said and then after a moment: ‘Never mind. I think I know. They went away to talk on the telephone and you went out on the balcony. And you saw Mummy and me waving on our balcony and you didn’t quite know what was up with everybody. Was it like that?’
‘A bit.’
‘Muddly?’
‘A bit,’ Ricky said tremulously.
‘I know. We were muddled too. Then that fat old thing came out and took you away, didn’t she?’
Ricky leant back against his mother. Troy slipped her arm round him and her hand protected his two hands and the silver goat. He looked at his father and his lip trembled.
‘It was beastly,’ he said. ‘She was beastly.’ And then in a most desolate voice: ‘They took me away. I was all by myself for ages in there. They said you’d be up here and you weren’t. You weren’t here at all.’ And he burst into a passion of sobs, his tear-drenched face turned in bewilderment to Alleyn. His precocity fell away from him: he was a child who had not long ago been a baby.
‘It’s all right, old boy,’ Alleyn said, ‘it was only a sort of have. They’re silly bad lots and we’re going to stop their nonsense. We wouldn’t have been able to if you hadn’t helped.’
Troy said: ‘Daddy did come, darling. He’ll always come. We both will.’
‘Well, anyway,’ Ricky sobbed, ‘another time you’d jolly well better be a bit quicker.’
A whistle at the back of the factory gave three short shrieks. Ricky shuddered, covered his ears and flung himself at Troy.
‘I’ll have to go in,’ Alleyn said. He closed his hand on Ricky’s shoulder and held it for a moment. ‘You’re safe, Rick,’ he said, ‘you’re safe as houses.’
‘OK,’ Ricky said in a stifled voice. He slewed his head round and looked at his father out of the corner of his eyes.
‘Do you think in a minute or two you could help us again? Do you think you c
ould come in with me to the hall in there and tell me if you can see that old Nanny and Mr Garbel’s driver?’
‘Oh, no, Rory,’ Troy murmured. ‘Not now!’
‘Well, of course, Rick needn’t if he’d hate it but it’d be helping the police quite a lot.’
Ricky had stopped crying. A dry sob shook him but he said: ‘Would you be there? And Mummy?’
‘We’ll be there.’
Alleyn reached over, picked up Troy’s gloves from the floor of the car and put them in his pocket.
‘Hi!’ Troy said, ‘what’s that for?’
‘“To be worn in my beaver and borne in the van,”’ he quoted, ‘or something like that. If Raoul or Dupont or I come out and wave will you and Ricky come in? There’ll be a lot of people there, Rick, and I just want you to look at ’em and tell me if you can see that Nanny and the driver. OK?’
‘OK,’ Ricky said in a small voice.
‘Good for you, old boy.’
He saw the anxious tenderness in Troy’s eyes and added: ‘Be kind enough, both of you, to look upon me as a tower of dubious strength.’
Troy managed a grin at him. ‘We have every confidence,’ she said, ‘in our wonderful police.’
‘Like hell!’ Alleyn said and went back to the factory.
III
He found a sort of comic opera scene in full swing in the central hall. Employees of all conditions were swarming down the curved stairs and through the doors: men in working overalls, in the white coat of the laboratory, in the black jacket of bureaucracy; women equally varied in attire and age: all of them looking in veiled annoyance at their watches. A loud-speaker bellowed continually:
‘Allô, Allô, Messieurs et Dames, faites attention, s’il vous plaît. Tous les employés, ayez la bonté de vous rendre immédiatement au grand vestibule. Allô, allô.’
M. Dupont stood in a commanding position on the base of the statue and M. Callard, looking sulky, stood at a little distance below him. A few paces distant, Raoul, composed and godlike in his simplicity, surveyed the milling chorus. The gendarmes were nowhere to be seen.
Alleyn made his way to Dupont who was obviously in high fettle and, as actors say, well inside the skin of his part. He addressed Alleyn in English with exactly the right mixture of deference and veiled irritability. Callard listened moodily.