Engles seemed lost in thought for a moment. Then his eyes lighted up with that infectious enthusiasm. ‘That’s wasting it, Joe. You can get more drama into it than that. And to hell with the girl. Listen — suppose Mayne here wanted to murder Blair. He’s a good skier. Blair isn’t. A snowstorm comes up. Mayne’s leading. He bears right after crossing the glacier — not by mistake, but by design.’ I scarcely heard what he said after that. I was watching Mayne. At the mention of ‘murder’ he had stiffened. He glanced quickly at Keramikos. His eyes were blank and he passed his tongue once or twice across his lips.
‘A night out there in a storm, and he’s bound to freeze to death,’ I heard Engles saying. ‘The perfect murder. Can’t be proved. But, by a freak chance, Blair comes back. It’s a lovely situation. We’ll write that into the script, Neil,’ he added, turning to me.
Keramikos thrust his head forward. ‘This hypothetical case,’ he said. ‘It is most interesting. But why should Mayne wish to kill Blair?’
‘Ah! That is what we have to work out,’ Engles said. Then he turned to me. ‘Come on, Neil,’ he said. ‘We’ll get this down whilst the idea is clear in our minds. Where can we go? What about your room? Any heating?’
‘There’s an electric stove,’ I said.
‘Good!’
As soon as we were outside the door I said, ‘Whatever induced you to produce that murder idea?’
‘Well, it wasn’t a bad idea,’ he said, grinning up at me as we mounted the stairs.
‘No,’ I said. ‘It wasn’t at all a bad idea. In fact, it’s exactly what happened. Mayne tried to murder me.’
‘Yes, I guessed as much.’
‘How could you?’ I said. We were in my room now.
‘Your unwillingness to talk on the phone. And what I know of Mayne.’
I shut the door and switched on the electric heater. It was very cold and the snow was piling up against the window, so that it was almost impossible to see out.
‘What do you know of Mayne?’ I asked.
He gave me a quick glance as he seated himself on the bed and produced a packet of cigarettes. ‘That can wait for the moment, Neil. Let’s hear what’s been happening up here. The last message I got from you was the cable giving details of the auction. It was that and the photograph of the bunch downstairs that brought me over here. Let’s start with the auction.’
When I had given him a full description, of the sale, he asked me to give him all the information on Mayne, Keramikos, Valdini and Carla. I started with Carla. I told him all that she had told me about herself. ‘And you believed her?’ he cut in.
‘I saw no reason not to,’ I replied. ‘She’s pretty sensual, but that’s no reason why she shouldn’t really have been in love with Stelben.’
He gave a cynical laugh. ‘That woman in love! She’s never loved any one but herself. She’s clever and she can handle men. She’s twisted you round her little finger, Neil.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I said angrily. ‘It’s a perfectly reasonable story.’
‘Reasonable!’ He laughed outright. ‘It’s about as reasonable as a tiger migrating to the Antarctic. What use would that woman have for a secluded villa on top of Col da Varda? She has two interests only in life — and money is the chief one. The trouble with you, Neil, is that you know nothing about women and are as gullible as any man I have ever met.’
I shrugged my shoulders. ‘Have it your own way,’ I said. ‘But do you expect me to have second sight? How should I know whether she’s telling the truth or not? Suppose you give me all the information you have about these people. Then I’d have something to go on.’
He smiled. ‘All right, Neil — a fair point. That’s Carla and Valdini. What about Keramikos?’
I told him what Keramikos had said of Mayne, of the meeting in the slittovia machine-room and how the Greek had denied that he had searched my room.
‘Anything on Mayne?’ he asked after that.
‘Only what Keramikos told me, and then that ski trip yesterday.’
He considered for a moment. ‘You haven’t done badly at all, Neil,’ he said with a sudden friendly smile. Again he paused. Then he said, ‘Suppose it was Mayne who searched your room that night? Would that have given him grounds for wanting to get rid of you?’
‘Hardly,’ I said. And then I remembered the sheet of typescript in my typewriter. ‘Yes, it might,’ I added. ‘I’d written a report for you. It was an account of what Keramikos had told me. Whoever it was who searched my rooms had had a look at that.’
He nodded. ‘And suppose the man that Keramikos had talked with that night was Mayne? Could it have been Mayne?’
‘I don’t know,’ I replied. ‘I didn’t really see him. But he was tall enough. It could have been.’
‘And if it was, then Mayne would have drawn certain conclusions from the fact that you were not in your room. Yes. I think it must have been our friend Mayne.’
There was a pause then. He seemed to have come to the end of his questions. ‘Look,’ I said. ‘It’s about time you gave me some idea of what’s going on here.’
