Free Eve by James Hadley Chase

at me fixedly. “You say you know such a woman?”
    “I’ve met her. I can’t say I really know her, but I’m going to.”
    “You are experimenting with her?”
    I was unwilling to tell him too much. He might talk to Carol.
    “Only from the point of view of writing about her,” I said carelessly. “I have to mix with all kinds of people in my game.”
    “I see.” His lips closed wetly over his cigar. “You weren’t thinking of persuading this woman to fall in love with you?”
    I eyed him. “I’ve something better to do with my time,” I said, a little sharply.
    “Don’t misunderstand me,” he said, fairly waving his hands. “You said this woman was the character you have chosen for your theme. You also said if she could be made to love then you could do anything with her? Isn’t that so?”
    I nodded.
    “Then how can you be sure that you are psychologically right, unless you actually experiment? I don’t think you are. I think such a woman as you have described is beyond the feeling of love. That is to me sound reasoning, while you are merely theorizing.”
    I sat back in my chair. I suddenly saw the trap he had laid for me. I had either to back out or else admit what I was planning to do.
    “Now wait,” Gold said, “Don’t say anything. Let me talk first. It is always better to know all the facts before you commit yourself.” He waved to a waiter. “We’ll have a little brandy. I find brandy is very good for this kind of conversation.”
    When the brandy had been ordered, he sunk his head into his shoulders and hunched over the table. “I’m interested,” he said. “I like “Angels in Sables”. I like the idea of a satire about men. I haven’t made a psychological picture for a very long time. They are good box office. Women like them. Carol was right when she said women are our public.” He fumbled inside his coat and took out a cigar-case. “Have a cigar, Mr. Thurston?”
    I took the long cigar although I really didn’t want it. Something, however, told me that Gold didn’t offer cigars to anyone but those he favoured.
    “That cigar cost me five dollars,” he said. “I have them specially made for me. You’ll enjoy it.”
    The brandy came and he sniffed at the balloon-shaped glass and sighed. “Excellent,” he murmured and held the glass cupped in both hands.
    I was in no hurry. I cut the end of the cigar carefully and lit it. It was smooth, mild and satisfying.
    “I am interested,” Gold went on, “in a story based on facts. I like the idea of your modelling your character on someone you know. She sounds right. You will obviously bring her to life because she is already alive. All you have to do is to capture her likeness and put it on paper. I should like you to take a further step. I would like you to put yourself in your hero’s place and, before you write, go through the experiences you have planned for your hero.”
    “Now look, Mr. Gold . . .” I began, but he raised his hand.
    “Let me go on. Hear what I have to say first. You may find that your ideas won’t work out the way you think they will. But, that won’t matter, the result will be psychologically right. You are a man of the world. I imagine that you have had considerable success with women in the past. This woman you have chosen as the subject for a story would be a worthy opponent, wouldn’t she? Why don’t you make her fall in love with you? It would be a very interesting experiment.”
    I didn’t say anything. He was suggesting the very thing I had planned to do. All the same it made me uneasy because I had Carol at the back of my mind.
    “I would buy such a story, Mr. Thurston,” Gold went on quietly. “Whichever way it turned out it would be interesting. The experiment would be between you and me and, of course, the woman in question. No one else need know about it.”
    We looked at each other and I knew he realized that I was uneasy about Carol.
    “I’ll admit the idea had crossed my