Puppet on a Chain by Alistair MacLean Page A

followed more slowly, watched her run down the steps and turn in the direction of the canal. Twenty seconds later Maggie and Belinda passed by in the same direction. Despite the umbrellas they held, they looked very wet indeed and most unhappy. Maybe they'd got there in ten minutes after all.
    I went back to the bar which I'd had no intention of leaving in the first place although I'd had to convince the girl that I was. The bar-tender, a friendly soul, beamed, 'Good evening again, sir. I thought you had gone to bed.'
    'I wanted to go to bed. But my taste-buds said, No, another jonge Genever.'
    'One should always listen to one's taste-buds, sir,' the bar-tender said gravely. He handed over the little glass. 'Prost, sir!' I lifted my glass and got back to my thinking. I thought about naivety and how unpleasant it was to be led up garden paths and whether young girls could blush to order. I thought I'd heard of certain actresses that could but wasn't sure, so I called for another Genever to jog my memory.
    The next glass I lifted in my hand was of a different order altogether, a great deal heavier and containing a great deal darker liquid. It was, in fact, a pint pot of Guinness, which might seem to be a very odd thing to find in a continental tavern, as indeed it was. But not in this one, not in the Old Bell, a horse-brass-behung hostelry more English than most English hostelries could ever hope to be. It specialized in English beers -- and, as my glass testified, Irish stout.
    The pub was well patronized but I had managed to get a table to myself facing the door, not because I have any Wild West aversion to sitting with my back to the door but because I wanted to spot Maggie or Belinda, whichever it was, when she came in. In the event it was Magg ie. She crossed to my table and sat down. She was a very bedraggled Maggie and despite scarf and umbrella her raven hair was plastered to her cheeks.
    'You all right?' I asked solicitously.
    'If you call all right being soaked to the skin, then yes.' It wasn't at all like my Maggie to be as waspish as this: she must be very wet indeed.
    'And Belinda?'
    'She'll survive too. But I think she worries too much about you.' She waited pointedly until I'd finished taking a long satisfying swig at the Guinness. 'She hopes you aren't overdoing things.'
    'Belinda is a very thoughtful girl.' Belinda knew damn well what I was doing.
    'Belinda's young,' Maggie said. 'Yes, Magg ie. ' 'And vulnerable.' 'Yes, Magg ie. '
    'I don't want her hurt, Paul.' This made me sit up, mentally, anyway. She never called me 'Paul' unless we were alone, and even then only when she was sufficiently lost in thought or emotion to forget about what she regarded as the proprieties. I didn't know what to make of her remark and wondered what the hell the two of them might have been talking about. I was beginning to wish I'd left the two of them at home and brought along a couple of Dobermann Pinschers instead. At least a Dobermann would have made short work of our lurking friend in Morgenstern and Muggenthaler's. 'I said -- ' Maggie began.
    'I heard what you said.' I drank some more stout. 'You're a very dear girl, Magg ie. '
    She nodded, not to indicate any agreement with what I said, just to show that for some obscure reason she found this a satisfactory answer and sipped some of the sherry I'd got for her. I skated swiftly back on to thick ice.
    'Now. Where is our other lady-friend that you've been following?' 'She's in church.'
    'What!' I spluttered into my tankard. 'Singing hymns.' 'Good God! And Belinda?' 'She's in church, too.' Is she singing hymns?' 'I don't know. I didn't go inside.' 'Maybe Belinda shouldn't have gone in either.'
    'What safer place than a church?'
    True. True.' I tried to relax but felt uneasy,
    'One of us had to stay.'
    'Of course.'
    'Belinda said you might like to know the name of the church.'
    'Why should I -- ' I stared at Magg ie. 'The First Reformed Church of the American Huguenot Society?'