An Affair For the Baron by John Creasey

you’re a knave, a fool, or a hypocrite.” He moved past the old man, picked up the gun, and slipped it into his pocket. “At least you won’t be able to get at that again.”
    â€œKnave! Fool! Hypocrite! Me ?” Alundo’s voice rose.
    Mannering looked him boldly in the eyes and said: “Yes.”
    Somehow, he felt it was a moment of truth and of testing. The old man’s gaze was as direct as his, and for a few seconds they seemed as if they were playing the childhood game of staring each other out. Hostility was bright in those clear eyes; and accusation as clear in Mannering’s. But even as they stared at each other, Mannering could not make up his mind what he really did believe.
    A sound in the passage broke the tension.
    Mannering could see the door beyond the other’s shoulder, and once again he saw it slowly opening. He found himself gripping the gun inside his pocket – until he saw the pink varnish on the fingernails which appeared at the door.
    â€œAll right, Ethel,” he said.
    â€œEthel!” Alundo spun round.
    The girl came in, looking tired and pale but very relieved. Almost at once, there was a call as of alarm from the sitting-room, followed by heavy movements. A moment later, Ricardi came into sight, his hair rumpled, his jacket creased; he looked as if he had just woken up.
    â€œWhat—what’s going on here?” he demanded. Then: “I’ll be goddamned if it ain’t Mr. Mannering!”
    Alundo was fussing over his daughter, showing more solicitude than Mannering had expected. Ricardi came fully into the room, and suddenly Ethel said crossly: “Oh, Daddy, for heaven’s sake!” She eyed Mannering very steadily. “I suppose you’ll gloat, now. The briefcase was stolen from us as soon as we got here, we would have been wiser to leave it with you. We had hardly got inside the flat,” she added, bitterly angry with herself. “A man was waiting just inside the door. He snatched the case, jabbed a needle into me—”
    â€œAnd into me, by golly!” Ricardi put in.
    â€œIf you’d had your wits about you, you would have stopped him,” Ethel said scathingly. “Well – we might as well give up, I suppose.”
    â€œGive up?” echoed her father. “You’re out of your senses. We’ve got to get that film back.”
    â€œWe certainly have to do just that,” Ricardi said. “Baron Mannering, sir, I have been hearing plenty about you, I certainly have, and according to Ethel here you’re a big-shot detective. Will you find that microfilm if I pay you a mighty big fee in advance? Say, ten thousand dollars?”
    Mannering did not speak, but was acutely aware that all three were staring at him expectantly. When he did not answer, Ricardi said eagerly: “So ten thousand isn’t enough. Will you settle for twenty thousand?”
    If he were serious, and all the indications suggested that he was, then the microfilm was worth at least twenty thousand dollars to him. The realisation startled Mannering. What could the film contain to make it worth so fantastic a sum?
    More slowly, Ricardi said: “Twenty-five.”
    â€œMannering—” began Alundo.
    â€œYou can’t possibly afford—” Ethel began.
    â€œDon’t worry about what I can afford,” said Ricardi. Quite suddenly he seemed more mature and completely sure of himself. “I’ve a hundred thousand acres of Texas range, and a steer on every ten acres on top of it. Underneath that, I’ve got the oil. You don’t have to worry about dollars, honey.”
    Mannering thought: I really believe him. Ethel looked dumbfounded.
    Then Mannering wondered: If he isn’t in this for the money, what is that microfilm about?
    Before he could hope to make any progress, he must have time to think; meanwhile he must appear to be persuaded by the size of the fee. Then he