'Apparently a man came in
speaking French with a strong English accent and wanted to find out on which ferry you were
crossing,' he said. 'He wouldn't speak English and the clerk there wouldn't tell him where you
were landing, so the man said to tell you your wife had died.'
'Did the clerk describe the man?'
'I didn't ask him and frankly, since...'
But Glodstone's monocle had its effect and he went back to the phone. He returned with the
information that the man had disappeared as soon as he'd delivered the message.
Glodstone had made up his mind. 'I think I'll change my booking,' he said. 'Is there any space
on tonight's ferries?'
'There's some on the midnight one, but '
'Good. Then I'll take it,' said Glodstone, maintaining his authority, 'and on no account is
that fellow to be given any information about my movements.'
'We don't make a habit of handing out information of that sort,' said the man. 'I take great
exception to the very idea.'
'And I take exception to being told that a wife I don't have has just died,' said
Glodstone.
At midnight, he took the ferry and was in Belgium before dawn. As he drove out of the docks,
Glodstone kept his eyes skinned for any suspicious watchers but the place was dark and empty. Of
one thing, Glodstone was now certain. La Comtesse had not been exaggerating the brilliant
criminal intelligence he was up against. That they knew he was coming was proof enough of that.
There was also the terrible possibility that the message had been a warning.
'If they touch one hair of her head,' Glodstone muttered ferociously and adjusted his goggles
as the Bentley ate the miles towards Iper and the obscure frontier crossing beyond it.
Chapter 10
'Gosh, it's good to see you, sir...I mean Patton, sir,' said Peregrine when the Bentley drew
up outside the railway station that morning. Glodstone peered at him from behind his one-eyed
goggles, and had to admit that he was fairly pleased to see Peregrine. He was terribly tired, had
had no sleep for twenty-four hours and the border crossing Slymne had chosen for him had been so
obscure that he'd spent several hours trying to find it.
'I'll get some breakfast while you fetch your kit from the hotel,' he said, 'I don't want to
be delayed here too long. So step lively. You see, they know I'm coming but that you're with me
they do not know.'
And with this strangely accurate remark, Glodstone climbed down and entered a café where, to
his disgust, he was forced to make do with café au lait and croissants. Half an hour later the
Bentley, which had attracted a disconcerting number of vintage car buffs around it, was once more
on the road.
'We've stolen a march on them so far,' said Glodstone, 'but there's no doubt they know La
Comtesse has been in communication with me. Which goes to show she has been badly served. And so,
from now on, we must be on our guard and keep our eyes open for anything suspicious.' And he
recounted the story of the man who had visited the booking office at Calais and had left the
warning message. 'Which means they may be holding her against our coming.'
'Your wife?' asked Peregrine. 'I didn't know you had one.' For a moment Glodstone took his eye
off the road to glare at him and looked back just in time to avoid crushing a herd of cows that
was blocking the way.
'La Comtesse, you oaf,' he shouted as the car screeched to a halt.
'Oh, her,' said Peregrine. 'In that case, why did they say your wife was dead?'
To vent his fury and avoid actual violence, Glodstone sounded the horn. Ahead of them, the
cows mooched on their way unperturbed. 'Because,' said Glodstone, with barely controlled
patience, 'not even the most brazen swine would walk up to a booking clerk and say "Tell Mr
Glodstone that if he comes any further La Comtesse will die." The last thing they want to do is
bring the police in.'
'No, I suppose they don't. Still '
'And another thing,' continued
speaking French with a strong English accent and wanted to find out on which ferry you were
crossing,' he said. 'He wouldn't speak English and the clerk there wouldn't tell him where you
were landing, so the man said to tell you your wife had died.'
'Did the clerk describe the man?'
'I didn't ask him and frankly, since...'
But Glodstone's monocle had its effect and he went back to the phone. He returned with the
information that the man had disappeared as soon as he'd delivered the message.
Glodstone had made up his mind. 'I think I'll change my booking,' he said. 'Is there any space
on tonight's ferries?'
'There's some on the midnight one, but '
'Good. Then I'll take it,' said Glodstone, maintaining his authority, 'and on no account is
that fellow to be given any information about my movements.'
'We don't make a habit of handing out information of that sort,' said the man. 'I take great
exception to the very idea.'
'And I take exception to being told that a wife I don't have has just died,' said
Glodstone.
At midnight, he took the ferry and was in Belgium before dawn. As he drove out of the docks,
Glodstone kept his eyes skinned for any suspicious watchers but the place was dark and empty. Of
one thing, Glodstone was now certain. La Comtesse had not been exaggerating the brilliant
criminal intelligence he was up against. That they knew he was coming was proof enough of that.
There was also the terrible possibility that the message had been a warning.
'If they touch one hair of her head,' Glodstone muttered ferociously and adjusted his goggles
as the Bentley ate the miles towards Iper and the obscure frontier crossing beyond it.
Chapter 10
'Gosh, it's good to see you, sir...I mean Patton, sir,' said Peregrine when the Bentley drew
up outside the railway station that morning. Glodstone peered at him from behind his one-eyed
goggles, and had to admit that he was fairly pleased to see Peregrine. He was terribly tired, had
had no sleep for twenty-four hours and the border crossing Slymne had chosen for him had been so
obscure that he'd spent several hours trying to find it.
'I'll get some breakfast while you fetch your kit from the hotel,' he said, 'I don't want to
be delayed here too long. So step lively. You see, they know I'm coming but that you're with me
they do not know.'
And with this strangely accurate remark, Glodstone climbed down and entered a café where, to
his disgust, he was forced to make do with café au lait and croissants. Half an hour later the
Bentley, which had attracted a disconcerting number of vintage car buffs around it, was once more
on the road.
'We've stolen a march on them so far,' said Glodstone, 'but there's no doubt they know La
Comtesse has been in communication with me. Which goes to show she has been badly served. And so,
from now on, we must be on our guard and keep our eyes open for anything suspicious.' And he
recounted the story of the man who had visited the booking office at Calais and had left the
warning message. 'Which means they may be holding her against our coming.'
'Your wife?' asked Peregrine. 'I didn't know you had one.' For a moment Glodstone took his eye
off the road to glare at him and looked back just in time to avoid crushing a herd of cows that
was blocking the way.
'La Comtesse, you oaf,' he shouted as the car screeched to a halt.
'Oh, her,' said Peregrine. 'In that case, why did they say your wife was dead?'
To vent his fury and avoid actual violence, Glodstone sounded the horn. Ahead of them, the
cows mooched on their way unperturbed. 'Because,' said Glodstone, with barely controlled
patience, 'not even the most brazen swine would walk up to a booking clerk and say "Tell Mr
Glodstone that if he comes any further La Comtesse will die." The last thing they want to do is
bring the police in.'
'No, I suppose they don't. Still '
'And another thing,' continued
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