The Venetian Affair by Helen MacInnes Read Free Book Online Page B

Fenner demanded.
    “No coat at Orly. The man took it with him.”
    “He left ?”
    Carlson nodded. “Nothing is ever made easy for us, is it? I thought we had him nicely wrapped up in bed. But no, he recovered enough to refuse to be sent to any hospital. He restedfor almost an hour, and then wandered off, declining all help except for a porter. Last seen following the exit arrows.”
    “He’s crazy. He’ll be dead within a week.”
    “Perhaps that doesn’t matter so much as his job,” Carlson said softly. He seemed very far away from this green-and-golden room.
    “Is it as important as all that?”
    Carlson’s frown deepened.
    “So he didn’t notice the exchange? Damnation, I was hoping he would.”
    Carlson said, “He’s too smart not to notice. But he wouldn’t ditch your coat. He needs it to find out who you are. Once that’s done, he will find out where you are. He wants his own coat back, intact.”
    “That’s going to be difficult.” Fenner took a deep breath. “How do you get me off this hook?”
    “That’s why I’m standing here, wasting time,” Carlson said sharply. “The process is known as creative thought.”
    “He’s a sick man,” Fenner suggested. “He is in no shape to play detective.”
    “His friends may be in very good shape.”
    “If it’s any aid to your attack of thought, there’s no address in my coat. No telephone numbers. No note-book.”
    “No name?”
    “My initials. And the maker’s name, of course. Nothing in the pockets except cigarettes and a lightweight edition of a Molière play with some notes I was making in the margins. I’m hoping to see a production of it in Avignon. But none of that would tell very much.” He looked at Carlson hopefully.
    “It tells something. An American who is interested in theFrench theatre... One inquiry at Orly, with a good excuse behind it, will soon add a name to your initials. It isn’t a totally unknown name, either. They could find it in one of the Who’s Who series in any reference library. Next step, the Chronicle office. And so—to here.”
    “A bit awkward for me,” Fenner admitted. He liked the idea less and less. “Let’s hope he’s working alone, with no one to run errands for him.”
    Carlson’s eyes measured Fenner. “I’m going to give it to you straight. If he is alone, he will hire some help. You’re in for trouble, friend, unless—” His eyes brightened. He picked up the coat and handed it to Fenner. “On your way out, you are going to stop at the porter’s desk to pick up your passport. Tell him not to worry about your lost coat—”
    “Like hell he is.”
    “Because it must be at Orly. So you’re taking the wrong coat back and getting your own.”
    “I can answer that one: he will offer to send a boy out to Orly.”
    “You have to identify it, haven’t you? And be identified? That’s why you want your passport. It fits, doesn’t it?”
    “It fits,” Fenner had to admit. “But supposing this fellow and his friends or his hired help go chasing out to Orly?”
    “They will. So we’ll get the coat out there, after we have finished with it.”
    “It won’t be exactly as they expect to find it. What then?”
    “At Orly, they will learn that the Sûreté arrived and confiscated the coat. My friend Bernard is very adept at arranging that kind of thing. In fact, I think he would like one of them to go chasing out to Orly. That would give his boys someone to follow.”
    Carlson opened the door. “I know it isn’t brilliant,” he said as Fenner still hesitated, “but can you think of anything better to get them off your back?”
    Fenner couldn’t.
    “Well, what’s worrying you?”
    “The scene at the porter’s desk. I’m no actor.” I’ll play it loose, keep it brief, he decided. Perhaps the porter will fall for my story.
    “You’ll do all right,” Carlson told him. “Just use the Method.”
    The baggage porter accepted Fenner’s offhand remarks with the impassive,