Читаем Stone's Fall полностью

'It's your fault,' she continued reproachfully. 'I began with those letters I wrote to you from Nancy. I enjoyed writing them, and even after our association came to an end, I kept on writing them, but this time to myself only. I dare have no intimates, no real friends, no family. Only myself. And so it is to myself that I write.'

'You must be very lonely.'

'No,' she said, 'of course not. Why should I be?'

'Do you never wish for more?'

'I have never had a friend who has not betrayed me. Or whom I have not betrayed. So I do not permit it.'

'I am your friend, I think.'

'That merely poses the question – will you betray me? Or shall I betray you first? It will happen, you know, sooner or later. It always does.'

'It is a cold world you live in.'

'Which is why I must look after myself above all. I honour my promises, but must care for no one.'

'I don't believe you.'

She shrugged. 'It is not important at the moment.'

I thought it was the most important thing of all, but let it pass. 'These letters to yourself, then. They contain details of all you have done? Everyone you have associated with? What are we dealing with here? How big are they?'

'Large. Two volumes, with about three hundred pages each in them.'

'And they are honest?'

'A true account of my life.' She smiled. 'They deal with everything and everyone. In very considerable detail. It would cause severe embarrassment to many people. Frankly I do not care about that; it is no more than they deserve. But my life would be ruined as well.'

'And I presume it also says a great deal about my activities in France?'

'Not that much; I didn't begin them until after our arrangement came to an end. But I think there is enough to get you into trouble. If it's any consolation, I was very warm about you.'

'It isn't.'

'What should I do?' she asked.

'You said Simon has disappeared. Who is he?'

'My servant. You remember? He had many troubles with the law. I employed him because – well, I thought that one day I might need such a person. He was always loyal to me.'

'You found him in Nancy?'

'No. I have no contact with anyone from there. He is a Parisian.'

'His loyalty to you seems to have run out. He knew about these diaries?'

'I thought not. But I suppose he did.'

I tried to digest all this unwelcome news. 'Well,' I said eventually. 'The obvious thing to do, and the easiest, is nothing. If these diaries are ever published you would be very much more famous – notorious, I should say – than you are now. I imagine they would become a great literary success.'

She smiled, but only weakly. 'It is not a reputation I want. Besides, far too much would not pass the censors. If that is all there was, I might see your point. It is an age where any sort of debauchery is tolerated, as long as it brings fame with it. But I find I like being what I am now, even if it is only an illusion. I do not want to go back.'

I have rarely felt as comfortable and contented as I did sitting in that room. That may seem strange, perhaps heartless, but I must be honest on this point. It was warm, the lighting was soft, the chair I was sitting on comfortable. Elizabeth, dressed that evening in a simple costume of blue silk, was as beautiful as ever I had seen her, and her worry created a degree of intimacy between us that made even me regret my refusal of the offer she had once made and which, I knew, would never be repeated. I could easily have spent the rest of the evening, the whole night, just talking of nothing and watching the fire flicker in the grate. In my life, I think only Freddie Campbell could induce such a feeling of comfort and safety in me: of family, almost, or so I imagined, although as I never had much of a family I cannot speak with authority on the subject.

'Assuming you are correct and that this Simon stole your diaries, it will be almost impossible to find him. We will have to wait until he surfaces. Until then it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. It is easy to disappear in Paris. There are few things more simple, in fact.'

'He has already surfaced.' She handed over an envelope. 'This arrived today. It is the only reason I went to my bureau and checked. Otherwise I might not have noticed anything amiss until Sunday, which is when I usually write up my week.'

I studied the contents carefully. It was an extract from a newspaper, a funeral notice of a Dr Stauffer from the Journal de Lausanne. No date, nothing else at all. No message, no demand for money.

'What does this mean?'

She shook her head, treating the question like a fly buzzing around her, something she wanted to go away.

'It clearly means something to you.'

'He was someone I knew, who was kind to me once. It is of no significance except to prove that Simon has the diaries. This was stuck into them. He is trying to frighten me. Starting with harmless information, making me nervous about what will come next. Will you help me?'