“Did this Commander Bond leave you any instructions, any letter? He told me that he had left you asleep early this morning. That he had gone off around six and had not wanted to wake you up. Quite right, of course. But”—Captain Stonor examined the end of his cigarette— “your evidence and the Commander’s is to the effect that you shared the same cabin. Quite natural in the circumstances. You wouldn’t have wanted to be alone any more last night. But it seems rather an abrupt good-by—after an exciting night like that. No trouble with him, I suppose? He didn’t, er, try to get fresh with you, if you get my meaning?” The eyes were apologetic, but they probed into mine.
I blushed furiously. I said sharply, “Certainly not, Captain. Yes, he did leave a letter for me. A perfectly straightforward one. I didn’t mention it because it doesn’t add anything to what you know.” I ran down the zip on my front and reached inside for the letter, blushing even worse. Damn the man!
He took the letter and read it carefully. He handed it back. “A very nice letter. Very, er, businesslike. I don’t get the bit about the soap.”
I said shortly, “Oh, that was only a joke about the motel soap. He said it was too strongly scented.”
“I see. Yes, sure. Well, that’s fine, Miss Michel.” The eyes were kindly again. “Well, now. D’you mind if I say something personal? Talk to you a minute as if you might be my own daughter? You could be, you know— almost my granddaughter if I’d started early enough.” He chuckled cozily.
“No. Please say anything you like.”
Captain Stonor took another cigarette and lit it. “Well, now, Miss Michel, what the Commander says is right. You’ve been in the equivalent of a bad motor accident and you don’t want to have any nightmares about it. But there’s more to it than that. You’ve been suddenly introduced, out of the blue, so to speak, and violently, to the underground war of crime, the war that’s going on all the time and that you read about and see in movies. And, like in the movies, the cop has rescued the maiden from the robbers.” He leaned forward across the table and held my eyes firmly in his. “Now don’t get me wrong about this, Miss Michel, and if I’m speaking out of turn, just forget what I’m going to say. But it would be unreasonable of you not to create a hero out of the cop who saved you, perhaps build an image in your mind that that’s the sort of man to look up to, even perhaps to want to marry.” The captain sat back. He smiled apologetically. “Now the reason I’m going into all this is because violent emergencies like what you’ve been through leave their scars. They’re one hell of a shock to anyone—to any dam’ citizen. But most of all to a young person like yourself. Now I believe”—the kind eyes became less kind— “I have good reason from the reports of my officers to believe, that you had intimate relations with Commander Bond last night. I’m afraid it’s one of our less attractive duties to be able to read such signs.” Captain Stonor held up his hand. “Now I’m not prying any more into these private things, and they’re none of my business, but it would be perfectly natural, almost inevitable, that you might have lost your heart, or at any rate part of it, to this personable young Englishman who has just saved your life.” The sympathy in the fatherly smile was edged with irony. “After all’s said and done, that’s what happens in the books and in the movies, isn’t it? So why not in real life?”
I stirred impatiently, wanting this stupid lecture to finish, wanting to be gone.
“Now I’m coming to the end very quickly, Miss Michel, and I know you think I’m being very impertinent, but ever since I got past middle age on the force, I’ve been interested in what I call postnatal care after a case like this. Particularly when the survivor is young and might be damaged by what the young person has been through. So I want to leave one thought with you if I may, and then wish you the best of luck and a happy journey on that crazy little scooter-thing of yours. It’s just this, Miss Michel.”