Free High Water (1959) by Douglas Reeman Page A

at him in contempt, or was it plain misery. He couldn’t be sure.
    ‘Philip,’ her voice was so husky, he could hardly hear her. ‘I hate the sight of my husband. Does that surprise you?’
    ‘I rather gathered that——’ he began.
    ‘But Felix will be able to help me, won’t he?’ Her voice was imploring.
    ‘I guess Felix’d fix anything, if he wanted it badly enough,’ he said firmly. ‘Come on, we’ll go for a stroll round the lawn, till you feel a bit better.’ And steering her by the elbow, he guided her out through the french windows, and into the moonlight.
    He was quick to realize his mistake, for as the cool air struck Janice, she reeled heavily against him, giggling foolishly, and as he grabbed her roughly, to stop her from falling, she clung about his neck, her eyes swimming.
    They were both suddenly bathed in light, as one of the french windows opened behind them, and before Vivian realized what was happening, Mason stepped quickly down on to the lawn, and seized her arm, dragging her heavily back into the shadows.
    His face was livid, as he stared from her to Vivian, his thin lips working with pent-up rage.
    ‘You little fool,’ he hissed. ‘Can’t you keep away from any man for a few minutes?’ And with a sudden jerk, he struck her across the face with the flat of his hand. She staggered back, her hands to her cheek, sobbing quietly, while Mason stood glowering at her, his breath heaving.
    ‘Now, just a minute, Mason,’ began Vivian, his face set in a grim frown. ‘She’s just a bit done up, there’s no need for you——’
    ‘Shut your mouth!’ Mason’s eyes glinted wildly. ‘And if I catch you messing about with her again, I’ll fix you too!’
    A tight feeling clamped Vivian’s skull as, without effort, he reached out and gripped the front of the other man’s jacket, and pulled him easily towards him. When he spoke, his voice was strange, and flat.
    ‘Don’t threaten me, Mason! Or you’ll get the treatment you deserve!’
    He gave a twist to the jacket, and a sharp thrust, and Mason reeled against the wall, his face white, and his small eyes popping with fright and hatred.
    ‘All right, you two, I think that’ll be enough for now!’ Jensen’s soft voice had a sharp ring of authority, as he limped out of the lighted room, followed by Lang, his round face anxious.
    ‘Sorry about that, but I don’t like people around me hitting women!’ Vivian’s arms fell to his sides.
    ‘All right, all right,’ snapped Jensen. ‘Now you’ve had your say, get into the study, and Lang, give him a drink.’
    He turned to Mason, his hooded eyes cold. ‘And you, Andrew, I think you’d better take Janice home.’ He raised his hand, as Mason began to speak. ‘No, Andrew, I think it’s better this way. We’ve a lot to do, and we’ve no time for personal bitterness.’
    Mason shook himself, his chest still heaving. ‘Very well,’ he croaked. ‘But keep that—that gentleman away from me!’
    ‘I think I’d better keep you away from
him
,’ answered Jensen dryly, then with a quick glance round, he stepped into the brightly lit study, and closed the windows.
    He sank wearily into his chair, and watched Vivian’s taut face, as he took the drink from Lang, and tossed it back without apparently noticing it.
    ‘The lout!’ muttered Vivian eventually, surprised to find that he was still shaking with rage.
    ‘Finished?’ Jensen’s voice was brittle, like a small bell.
    Vivian snorted, and banged down the glass. ‘Yes,’ he snapped, ‘except that I don’t like your friend very much!’
    ‘So we have gathered, my boy! And from what I’ve seen and heard this evening, I have had to revise my opinion a little also.’
    He tapped slowly on his chair, the hands working, while his body lay back, still and restful.
    ‘Go and pay my respects to the guests, Felix, they’ll be wondering where everybody has got to, and no doubt they’ll be ready to go anyway.’
    Lang hurried