Palma?'

Bertie stared. He was finding it hard to keep pace with the conversation. 'It might have been,' he acknowledged. 'Do you know this lady?'

The girl in blue smiled faintly. ' Monsieur Monsieur, she stands before you.'

'By Jove! Real y?' Remembering himself, Bertie bowed. He indicated the waiter. 'And this man?'

'Mario is my faithful servant,' answered the princess quietly. 'His father and his father before him served my family.'

'I see,' murmured Bertie. 'I think I begin to understand.'

The princess turned to Mario. 'You did not tel me that you had kil ed Zabani?' she said in a voice as brittle as ice.

Mario looked disconsolate.

'Your pardon, highness. But the order came from-higher up.'

'The jol y old chief Camorrista-what?' put in Bertie.

The princess turned on him in a flash. 'Silence!'

she said curtly. To Mario she said, 'You can explain this to me later. Turning back to Bertie, she went on, 'Have you by any chance a friend who might have come to Castil on this afternoon?'

'Why-er-yes, by jingo!' replied Bertie. 'In fact, I know he's here. I saw him arrive a few minutes ago.'

'Was he also looking for a princess?'

'Absolutely-yes, absolutely.'

The princess turned to Mario. 'Release him,' she ordered. Then, to Bertie, 'and now you have found the princess-what then?'

'I should like to see her kitchen-I believe it is a bon cuisine bon cuisine,' answered Bertie meaningly. And as he spoke, with his toe, he carelessly traced a triangle in a patch of dust.

The princess smiled. 'Fol ow me, sir,' she said quietly.

Chapter 13.

Pilgrimage to Peille After one glance at the steep slopes behind Monte Carlo, Ginger decided that the only way to get to La Turbie, as the first stage in his journey to Peil e, was by road. This involved a risk of being stopped and questioned, but it could not be avoided. He was in no condition for rock climbing. At the bottom of the hil he mounted his animal, and setting its face to the gradient, al owed it to choose its own gait.

His fears about being stopped were wel founded, for he was stopped twice, once at the frontier of Monaco and France by two Monegasque soldiers, and later by two Italians, but evidently he looked the part he was playing, for they treated him as a joke and al owed him to pa.s.s without asking embarra.s.sing questions. The ascent to the top of the hil occupied two hours.

Once on the lonely road that winds from La Turbie to Peil e the way lay clear before him, and he began to enjoy the trip. The sun shone down from a sky of deepest azure. Behind lay the blue Mediterranean, sparkling in the clear air, fringing the distant capes with foam. On the left was the broad fertile val ey into which they had jumped on the night of their arrival, its far slopes shining grey with olive groves. Here and there a cypress thrust its spire-like point into the air.

On the right the ground rose steeply to the dominant peak of Mont Agel, capped by the fort which its engineers had intended should protect the country against Italian invaders. Ahead, the road twisted like a grey ribbon through the mountains, not over them, but in the side of the rock, so that it maintained the same level throughout, sometimes curling back upon itself in a sweeping curve to avoid a chasm. From every cranny sprang wild lavender, rosemary and thyme, or sometimes a clump of vicious-looking cactus.

Just beyond half-way the scene began to change.

It became more harsh. A solitary eagle appeared, gliding high on rigid pinions. On the right the rocks rose pinnacle on pinnacle to towering peaks. To the left the land was a chaos of beetling crags and sheer precipices, along the edge of which the road now ran a precarious course. At one point, marked significantly with a shrine, a track wound dizzily into the mountains; a lol ing signpost announced that it was a route strategical route strategical to St. Agnes. to St. Agnes.

Ginger went on, overawed by the immensity of the landscape. The chasm on the left became a yawning gorge so deep that the bottom was lost in purple shadows. The road crumbled along the edge of it without any kind of protection to prevent a careless travel er from fal ing headlong into the void. The donkey, wise like al its race, kept wel away from the brink. At one place the beetling crags on the right overhung the road, so that it looked like a tunnel with one side torn away. The donkey's little hooves rang with a hol ow sound.

Not a single travel er did Ginger meet. The sun rose high into the heavens, flamed across its zenith, and began to fal towards the west; and stil the land lay grey and lifeless. Of Peil e there was no sign, and as the day wore on he began to wonder if he was on the right road. Soon afterwards, rounding a formidable b.u.t.tress, he saw the vil age before him, a huddle of houses crouching on a lip of rock that hung like a shelf over the edge of the world. Far below a blue thread marked the course of a river. On its bank was another vil age into which, from his dizzy height, Ginger could have dropped a stone.

A smal boy, in rags, barefoot, came up the road to meet him, strol ing carelessly along the edge of the chasm. 'Bon jour, monsieur 'Bon jour, monsieur,' he greeted.

Ginger pointed to the vil age ahead. 'Have I arrived at Peil e?'

'Oui, monsieur.'

Ginger pointed down at the vil age far below. 'And that one?'

'La Grave de Peil e.'

'Thank you, my little one,' answered Ginger.

'Here's a sou sou for you.' for you.'

The lad caught the coin adroitly, and dashed back to the vil age with his prize.

Ginger shouted after him, 'Where is the sanitorium?'

The boy pointed to a large oblong building on the right of the road, standing a little way back, at the entrance to the vil age. 'There it is,' he cal ed.

'Thank you,' replied Ginger. He tightened his reins. 'Whoa, Lucil e. This is where we must stop to think.'

He had no clear idea of what he was going to do, having purposely deferred thinking about it until he had made a reconnaissance of the sanitorium. And now he was in sight of it there was little to see. The hospital was a large, perfectly plain white building, standing alone on a slight eminence on the right of the road. It was about a hundred yards from the vil age, on the side nearest to him. The front door and al the windows stood wide open, although some were shaded by blinds. There was a long line of outbuildings slightly to the rear. Between these buildings and the main structure two rows of laundry -pyjamas, nightshirts, towels and blue linen overal s -hung limply in the sun. Behind, a grey limestone bank rose steeply for several hundred feet to end in a jagged ridge. Into the ma.s.sif ma.s.sif *1, not far from where Ginger stood surveying the scene, a ravine wound a curving course upwards, providing foothold for a number of olive trees. Not a soul was in sight. *1, not far from where Ginger stood surveying the scene, a ravine wound a curving course upwards, providing foothold for a number of olive trees. Not a soul was in sight.

Nothing moved-not even the washing on the line.

There appeared to be little point in watching this uninspiring spectacle, so Ginger decided first to tether the patient Lucil e, and then, by direct inquiry, ascertain if Henri was stil there. In this he was encouraged by the apparent absence of police and soldiers.

He led Lucil e a little way into the ravine and tethered her in the restful shade of the olives, al owing her enough rope to browse on the rough herbiage. This done he walked diagonal y across the road to the front entrance of the sanitorium.

Reaching it, he saw beyond the open door a large cool hal . There was no one in it. The only furniture was a form and one or two chairs against the wal s, and a coat and hat rack on which hung several white jackets and other garments, presumably the property of the staff. Al this was quite usual for a French country hospital.

Ginger rang the bel . After a brief delay an old grey-bearded man came slowly, yawning, out of a side room, where apparently he had been resting.

His jacket was unfastened, as was the col ar of his shirt. Spectacles were balanced on his nose. On slippered feet he shuffled to where Ginger was waiting.

'Pardon, monsieur monsieur, but are you the janitor?' asked Ginger.

'Yes. What do you want at this time of day? Is a man to have no rest?'

'Having business this way, I have cal ed to make inquiries on behalf of Madame Ducoste,' said Ginger. 'She has been informed that her son Henri is here.'

The janitor came nearer. 'Yes, there is a patient here of that name,' he admitted. 'Who are you? You speak with a queer accent.'

'I am a friend of the family, monsieur monsieur. I have been away for some years, in Spain.'

'Ah!'

'How is Monsieur Ducoste to-day?'

'Better. They are coming to fetch him away.'

'So we heard. Can I see him?'

'No.'

'But why not? I may never have another opportunity.'

'Because, my young friend, he is in the charge of the police.'

'Yes, we heard that too,' answered Ginger in a melancholy voice. 'Is he in a public ward?'

'No, in a private room.'

Ginger nodded. This was useful information.

'Perhaps the police wil let me see him?'

'I doubt it.'

'I can but ask. Where can I find them?'

The janitor yawned. 'The sergeant is not yet back from his siesta. Monsieur Andre, the gendarme gendarme of Peil e, guards the prisoner in his absence. If you are going to do anything you had better be quick. of Peil e, guards the prisoner in his absence. If you are going to do anything you had better be quick.

Ducoste is being taken to Nice. I expect the van here at any moment.'

Ginger caught his breath. 'Where can I find the sergeant?'

'I wouldn't disturb him.'

'Then, with your permission, I wil see Monsieur Andre.'

'No, I can't let you do that, but I wil tel him you are here. There is a chance that he may let you see the unfortunate Ducoste, but by order of the prefect al visitors are forbidden.'

'You speak as though you are sorry for Ducoste, monsieur monsieur?' Ginger spoke as meaningful y as he dared.

The Frenchman threw him a curious glance. 'He would be a brave man, or a foolish one, to say what he thinks, in this country, to-day.'

'Wel , wil you go and ask Monsieur Andre if I can 'Wel , wil you go and ask Monsieur Andre if I can see Henri just for a minute?'

'Wait.' The janitor walked off along the main corridor.

Ginger watched him, for he realised that here was an opportunity for discovering where Henri was confined. To his great satisfaction the janitor did not turn up the stairs, but went along to the end door on the right hand side of the corridor. From this Ginger gathered Henri was on the ground floor.

The janitor was absent for about a minute, and then came back. 'No use,' said he. 'Ducoste is not al owed visitors. Police orders.'

'Then I have wasted my time,' muttered Ginger gloomily.

The janitor did not answer at once. He was looking past Ginger's shoulder along the winding road to La Turbie. 'This looks like the police van coming now,'

he observed.

Turning, Ginger saw a dark-coloured van creeping round the lip of the gorge. He had no doubt that the janitor was right, and his heart sank, for although his brain was racing he could not think of a plan that promised the slightest chance of success.

'You'd better be getting along,' advised the janitor.

'Yes, I suppose so,' agreed Ginger disconsolately.

But he did not move. He was not yet ready to abandon hope.

As the van drew near the janitor walked forward to the top of the steps, and as it stopped on the road, about twenty paces distant, he went forward to meet the occupants who now emerged. There were three men, not counting the chauffeur. The first was a short, thick-set man in a dark suit. He carried a pair of handcuffs in his left hand. Of the two with him, one was a policeman; the other wore the uniform of the Italian medical service. Talking quietly they moved forward together towards the steps of the sanitorium.

The chauffeur lit a cigarette and fol owed leisurely.

Ginger saw that if he was going to attempt a rescue he had about one minute in which to accomplish it. Once Henri was handcuffed, and in the car, there would be no hope at al , and the realisation of it made him desperate.

The janitor, who had evidently forgotten him, had gone on down the steps and was talking to the newcomers. The whole group halted to hear what he had to say.

If Ginger actual y thought he was unaware of it. He acted on impulse. Crossing swiftly to the hat rack he unhooked a white jacket and then sped on down the corridor, putting on the jacket as he went. At the end door he stopped and knocked sharply. A voice invited him to enter. He went in, to find himself in a smal whitewashed cubicle. There was an iron bed, and on it a man, his head swathed in bandages.

Ginger barely glanced at him. He was looking at a French gendarme gendarme who, with his tunic unb.u.t.toned, lol ed, somewhat uncomfortably, in a wooden chair. who, with his tunic unb.u.t.toned, lol ed, somewhat uncomfortably, in a wooden chair.

To this man Ginger addressed himself.

'We have arrived to take the prisoner to Nice,' he said crisply.

'I thought I heard the car pul up,' announced the gendarme, gendarme, rising. rising.

'The doctor is in the hal -he wants to see you,'

went on Ginger, trying to keep his voice natural. 'I'l take charge of the prisoner while you have gone.'

T h e gendarme gendarme obeyed the order without the slightest hesitation. To al appearance it did not occur to him to question it. b.u.t.toning his tunic he went out. obeyed the order without the slightest hesitation. To al appearance it did not occur to him to question it. b.u.t.toning his tunic he went out.

The moment the door was closed behind him Ginger locked it on the inside and then went straight to the open window. As he had supposed, the room was at the end of the building, and did not overlook the front, but the side. A short distance away the lines of washing stil hung limply in the stagnant air.

Just beyond was the ravine in which Lucil e rested in the shade. Satisfied with his inspection Ginger turned to Henri and spoke to him tensely.

'We've got about thirty seconds,' he said. 'Are you able to walk?'