Free Blindfold by Patricia Wentworth Page A

he restrained himself. After a moment he said,
    â€œThe Vulture affair was four years ago. He ran the most extraordinary international blackmail business. The branch in the States also concerned itself with kidnapping.”
    â€œI remember,” said Freddy. “A man called Lindsay Trevor ran him down. * Very nice chap. I met him once.”
    â€œIt was an extraordinary fine bit of work. The Vulture committed suicide and the organization appeared to collapse. Then last year there was the Gilbert Denny affair. † I can’t give you the details, but there was a woman mixed up with that who was one of the Vulture’s lot. There were indications of a recrudescence of the organization then. The woman got away. All this year odds and ends of information have been trickling in. The Americans are determined to put a stop to their kidnapping cases. I can’t go into details, as I said before, but two separate lines have led to London, and it’s true that a man was sent over from Washington and another from Paris.” He frowned and took another drink from his glass.
    â€œAnd you don’t want Lila to talk about it?” said Freddy.
    Ian laughed harshly.
    â€œIf you can stop her!”
    â€œWell, if Fitz and his crowd have got hold of it, what Lila says or doesn’t say will be only a drop in the ocean, you know.”
    Ian banged down his glass again.
    â€œI wish somebody would tell me how things get out!” he said. “But look here, Freddy, this is how it stands. I’m in this business. I’ve been told things. I know things I can’t even tell you. It’s all frightfully hush-hush at the moment. Well then, if young Fitz and his crowd talk it’s one thing, but if your wife talks it’s another. Everyone’ll think I told you and you told her. See?”
    Freddy saw.
    â€œAll right,” he said—“I’ll pick up the bits.”
    Ian frowned.
    â€œHow many people do you suppose Lila’s talked to already?”
    â€œWell,” said Freddy, “as a matter of fact I think you’ve got in in time, because Fitz has been away. Lila hadn’t seen him for at least ten days till this evening, when she ran into him and the whole pack at a sherry party. She probably picked this story up there, but she hasn’t had time to pass it on. Do you want me to find out just what she has heard—or doesn’t that matter?”
    Ian laughed. His face had relaxed a little.
    â€œIt’s probably well mixed— Rumour , by Conjecture out of Gossip . What a life! Well, I’ll be getting along.”
    Freddy got up. While Ian finished his drink, he stood looking at him. Then he said,
    â€œI think I can fix it.” And then, after a short pause, “Lila’s got a damn silly mother, Ian.”
    Ian nodded.
    Lady Latimer was most undoubtedly a Family Affliction. At forty-five, and a widow for the second time, she was still girlish, still gushing, still the creature of every wayward whim. Freddy endured, sometimes with philosophy and sometimes not.
    He let Ian out and went to Lila’s room. He had, as always, the half amused, half irritated feeling that he ought to take off his shoes and leave them outside—that he ought, in fact, to get into something very exotic in the way of a dressing-gown in order not to strike too jarring a note. For Lila had insisted on a white bedroom. The walls, the ceiling, and the floor were white. The deep piled carpet was white. There was a white bearskin in front of the fire, and a couch covered with white brocade drawn up at right angles to it. The same brocade curtained the windows and made a canopy and covering for the low bed with its golden foot-rail.
    Lila was sitting curled up on the couch gazing into the fire. She had washed the make-up from her face, and in her thin filmy night-gown with a white velvet wrap thrown round her she looked much younger than she had done at dinner. She might