was late for his meeting. He picked up the phone and was delighted by the
crisp British accent answering him.
“Madame Scarlatti is in suite five. Our instructions are to ring through
prior to callers, sir.”
“If you’ll do that, please, I’ll just go right up. Thank you.,,
Canfield said his name quite loudly before Elizabeth Scarlatti would open
the door. The old woman motioned the young man inside to a chair while she
sat on a huge Victorian sofa by the window.
“Well, what do we do now?”
“I phoned our London man nearly an hour ago. He should be here shortly.”
“Who is he?”
“He said his name is James Derek.”
“Don’t you know him?”
“No. We’re given an exchange to call and a man is assigned to us. It’s a
reciprocal arrangement.”
“Isn’t that convenient.” A statement.
“We’re billed for it.”
“What will he want to know?”
“Only what we want to tell him. He won’t ask any questions unless we
request something either inimical to theBritish government or so expensive
he’d have to justify
it; that’s the point he’ll be most concerned with.”
“That strikes me as very amusing.”
“Taxpayers’ money.” Canfield looked at his watch. “I asked him to bring
along a list of religious retreats.”
“You’re really serious about that, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Unless he has a better idea. I’ll be gone for about
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two and half weeks. Did you write the letter for your daughter-in-law?”
“Yes.” She handed him an envelope.
Across the room on a table near the door, the telephone rang. Elizabeth
walked rapidly to the table and answered it.
“Is that Derek?” asked Canfield, when she had hung UP.
“Yes.”
“Good. Now, please, Madame ScarlattL let me do most of the talking. But if
I ask you a question, you’ll know I want an honest answer.”
“Oh? We don’t have signals?”
“No. He doesn’t want to know anything. Believe that. Actually, we’re a
source of embarrassment to each other.”
“Should I offer him a drink, or tea, or isn’t that allowed?”
“I think a drink would be very much appreciated.”
-ru call room service and have a bar sent up.”
“That’s fine.”
Elizabeth Scarlatti picked up the phone and ordered a complete selection of
wines and liquors. Canfield smiled at the ways of the rich and lit one of
his thin cigars.
James Derek was a pleasant-looking man in his early fifties, somewhat
rotund, with the air of a prosperous merchanL He was terribly polite but
essentially 0001. His perpetual smile had a tendency to curve slowly into
a strained straight line as he spoke.
“We traced the license of the Rolls at the pier. It belongs to a Marquis
Jacques Louis Bertholde. French resident alien. We’ll get information on
him.”
“Good. What about the retreatsT’
The Britisher took out a paper from his inside coat pocket. “There’re
several we might suggest depending upon Madame Scarlatti’s wishes to be in
touch with the outside.”
‘~Do you have any where contact is completely impossible? On both sides?”
asked the field accountant.
“That would be Catholic, of course. There’re two or three.”
“Now, see herel” interrupted the imposing old lady.
“What are theyr asked Canfield.
“There’s a Benedictine order and a Carmelite. They’re
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in the southwest, incidentally. One, the Carmelite, is near Cardiff.”
“There are limits, Mr. Canfield, and I propose to establish them. I will
not associate with such people!”
‘Vhat is the most fashionable, most sought after retreat in England, Mr.
Derek?” asked the field accountant
“Well, the duchess of Gloucester makes a yearly trek to the Abbey of York.
Church of England, of course.”
“Fine. We’ll send out a story to all the wire services that Madame
Scarlatti has entered for a month.”
“That’s far more acceptable,” said the old woman.
“I haven’t finished.” He turned to the amused Londoner. “Then book us into
the Carmelites. You’ll escort Madame Scarlatti there tomorrow.”
I.As YOU say.,,
“Just one minute, gentlemen. I do not consentl I’m sure Mr. Derek will
adhere to my wishes.”
“Terribly sorry, madame. My instructions are to take orders from Mr.
Canfield.”
“And we have an agreement, Madame Scarlatti, or do you want to tear it up?”
“What can I possibly say to such people? I simply can not stand that voodoo
mumbo jumbo coming from Romel”
“You’ll be spared that discomfort, madame,” said Mr. Derek. “There’s a vow
of silence. You’ll not hear from anyone.”
“Contemplate,” added the field accountant. “Good f9r the immortal soul.”
192
CHAPTER 23
YORK, ENGLAND, August 12, 1926- The famed Abbey of York sustained a
damaging explosion and fire at dawn this morning in its west wing, the
residential quarters of the religious order. An undisclosed number of
sisters and novices were killed in the tragic occurrence. It was believed
that the explosion was due to a malfunction in the heating system
recently installed by the order.
Canfield read the story in the ship’s newspaper one day before arriving in
New York.
They do their homework well, he thought. And although the price was
painfully high, it proved two points conclusively: the press releases were
read and Madame Scarlatti was marked.
The field accountant reached into~ his pocket and took out the old woman’s
letter to Janet ScarletL He’d read it many times and thought it effective.
He read it once more.
My dear Child:
I am aware that you are not particularly fond of me and I accept the fact
as my loss. You have every right to feel as you do-the Scarlattis have
not been pleasant people with whom to be associated. However, for
whatever reasons and regardless of the pain you have been caused, you are
now a Scarlatti and-you have borne a Scarlatti into this world. Per-
193
haps you will be the one who will make us better than we are.
I do not make this statement lightly or out of sentiment. History has
shown that the least expected among us often emerge splendidly because
of the grave responsibilities placed upon them. I ask you to consider
this possibility.
I further ask you to give deep consideration to what Mr. Matthew Canfield
will tell you. I trust him. I do so because he has saved my life and
nearly lost his own in so doing. His interests and ours are inextricably
bound together. He will tell you what he can and he will ask of you a
great deal.
I am a very, very old woman, my dear, and do not have much time. What
months or years I do have (precious perhaps only to me) may well be cut
short in a fashion I’d like to believe is not the will of God. Naturally,
I accept this risk gladly as the head of the house of Scarlatti, and if
I can spend what time I have. left preventing a great dishonor upon our
family, I will join my husband with a grateful heart.
Through Mr. Canfield, I await your answer. If it is as I suspect, we will
be together shortly and you will have gladdened me far beyond that which
I deserve. If it is not, you still have my affection and, believe me when
I say, my understanding.
Elizabeth Wyckharn Scarlatti
Canfield replaced the letter in the envelope. It was quite good, he thought
again. It explained nothing and asked for implicit trust that the unsaid
explanation was vitally urgent. If he did his job, the girl would be coming
back to England with him. If he failed to persuade her, an alternative
would have to be found.
The Ulster Scarlett brownstone on Fifty-fourth Street was being repainted
and sandblasted. There were several scaffolds lowered from the roof and a
number of workmen diligently at their crafts. The heavy Checker cab pulled
up in front of the entrance and Matthew Canfield walked up the steps. He
rang the bell; the door was opened by the obese housekeeper.
“Good afternoon, Hannah. I don’t know if you remem-
194
X.
ber, but my name’s Canfield. Matthew Canfield to see Mrs. Scarlett.”
Hannah did not budge or offer entrance. “Does Mrs. Scarlett expect you?”
“Not formally, but I’m sure she’ll see me.” He bad had no intention of
phoning. It would have been too easy for her to refuse.
“I don’t know if madame is in, sir.”
“Then I’ll just have to wait. Shall it be here on the stairs?”
Hannah reluctantly made way for the field accountant to step into the
hideously colored hallway. Canfield was struck again by the intensity of
the red wallpaper and the black drapes.
-ru inquire, sir,” said the housekeeper as she started toward the stairs.
In a few minutes Janet came down the long staircase, followed by a waddling
Hannah. She was very much composed. Her eyes were clear, aware, and devoid
of the panic he had remembered. She was in command and without question a
beautiful woman.
Canfield felt a sudden sting of inferiority. He was outclassed.