Palm for Mrs. Pollifax by Dorothy Gilman Page B

herself. When she replied it was casually. “I was downstairs on the ground floor when I found myself playing cat-and-mouse with someone in the dark. I reached the Reception floor and the elevator was standing there and so I slipped inside, planning to walk down a floor to my room, you see, but I could hear whoever it was running upstairs after me, so I was cut off and—”
    “And popped in here.” He studied her face shrewdly. “If that’s your story I won’t do any more prying, but to be perfectly frank with you that little anecdote doesn’t begin to match the look on your face when you burst into my room. Do you think whoever it was is still out there waiting for you?”
    He had caught her off guard; she realized that she’d not thought of this yet.
    Robin shook his head. “You don’t have a poker face tonight, Mrs. Pollifax, I frightened you with that question.” He regarded her curiously. “All right, I said I wouldn’t pry but let’s proceed as if you’ve stolen the Queen’s jewels and the police are lurking. Can you manage a drop of eight feet on a rope?”
    She brightened. “Over the balcony?”
    He looked amused. “Yes, my dear Mrs. Pollifax, but don’t look so eager. Have you ever before gone up or down a rope?”
    “Yes, once in Albania—” She stopped. “Oh dear, I
am
tired, I should never have said that.”
    He looked her up and then down, taking in her height, her weight, her flyaway hair, the voluminous robe and woolly bedsocks, and he grinned. “I didn’t hear you say it. I wouldn’t believe it if I did hear it, especially knowing that Americans are not allowed in Albania. Who would believe it anyway, I ask you.” He removed a coil of efficient-looking rope from his suitcase. “Mountain climbing rope,” he explained, patting it lovingly. “The very best. By the way, there’s nothing to this, there’s no ledge at all on this floor but a perfectly splendid one on yours below so there’ll be something under you all the way. I’ll go first and check you out.” Over the coil of rope he studied her and frowned. “You know, it terrifies me discovering who you are, but it’s equally alarming to think your superiors may have sent you here alone and unprotected. I daresay it’s the most absolute affrontery to offer my services but if anything comes up—” He looked embarrassed. “Well, hang it all, I’m already indebted to you, and if you should need a gentleman burglar—”
    “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that,” she said warmly.
    “Oh?” He looked startled. “Well, do keep it in mind,then. By the way, is your balcony door locked?” She nodded and he added a circle of keys to his belt. “Full speed ahead then.” On the balcony he tied the rope to the railing, fussed over the knots, tested the railing and glanced up. “All set?”
    It was dismayingly dark out here but she reflected that this had the advantage of blotting out the garden four stories below. “I’m ready.”
    “Good. Give me your jewelry case. Once over the railing lean out a bit, rope in hand, and then slide down and
in
.”
    “In,” she repeated.
    He disappeared and Mrs. Pollifax found herself hesitating until she remembered the lighted halls and the shadowy solariums where anyone could hide. She climbed over the railing and grasped the rope. Closing her eyes she murmured a brief prayer and let go.
    “Good girl,” said Robin, catching the rope and guiding her in close to the balcony. “With a little training you’d make a splendid burglar.” He helped her over the railing, turned his pencil-thin flashlight on the door to her room and a moment later it stood open. “I trust you locked your other door, the one into the hall?”
    She shook her head. “No, I thought I might have to retreat in a hurry.”
    “Then I’d better take a look around and make sure nobody else used it for a hasty retreat.” He followed her inside and while she put away the scintillator counter he glanced