Free Dangerous Inheritance by Dennis Wheatley Page B

that she easily might. Then, should she accept his invitation to go out to Ceylon and stay with his mother, that opened a still more horrifying prospect. He would have a free field with her and, passionate as she was by nature, she might not only become his mistress, but remain so long enough for it to become known and talked about. And that, to Truss’s mind, meant that her life would be irretrievably ruined.
    And he loved Fleur. She was the first girl he had properly kissed and, despite the years between, the first he had slept with. During this past week that she had denied herself to him the longing for her smooth, live body had given him an actual physical pain. But it was not only desire he felt for her. He had delighted in her companionship; admired her intelligence and forceful character. Even if she would have no more to do with him he wanted her to be happy, and was desperately anxious that she should not make a mess of her life.
    Somehow he must put a spoke in Rajapakse’s wheel; think of some way to make him show the cloven hoof of his coloured blood, or cause him to cut short abruptly his stay in Corfu. Yet how was either possible? Still wrestling with this seemingly insoluble problem Truss dropped into an uneasy sleep.
    On the Sunday de Richleau decided to go for one of his occasional drives, so they all accompanied him in his big car along the winding roads fringed with acacia, walnut and eucalyptus trees. The others, as always on these drives, continued to draw one another’s attention to the beauty of the countryside. During his first week there Truss, then feeling likea young god, had gloried in associating this earthly Paradise in his mind with the Paradise Fleur’s kisses had opened to him. Now, he looked on these lovely sights with lacklustre eyes, and found the scent of acacia, orange blossom and tuber-rose cloying, while continuing, on and off, to contemplate absurdly improbable happenings which might rid him of the hated Rajapakse.
    Now that they were in mid May the day was very hot and its warmth lingered on well after sundown. As it was Sunday there was no dancing at the hotel; so after dinner the younger people remained with their elders sitting out on the terrace. For a long time the old Duke reminisced, lightly and with humour, about his adventures in the distant past, and the pleasant world as it was before the 1914–18 war, that youngsters of today would never know. He was a magnificent raconteur; so that as his gentle voice went on to tell story after story even Fleur was spellbound, and it was after eleven when they stood up to go to bed.
    It was again a night with a splendid moon and as warm as a good August night in England. When Fleur had kissed her elders good night, she turned to Douglas and said, ‘What about getting into our bathing things and going down for a swim? I’m sure the water will be warm enough.’
    â€˜Yes, let’s do that,’ he replied with quick enthusiasm.
    Truss was still with them, and he put in, ‘That’s a great idea. I’ll get out the car, then change and be ready to drive you down in, say, fifteen minutes’ time.’
    Fleur’s glance, as she turned away, showed him that he was not wanted, but he ignored it. He had made up his mind that morning that, whatever Fleur might say, he was not now going to leave her alone with Douglas for even a few minutes if he could possibly help it.
    A quarter of an hour later he had the car at the front door and the other two scrambled into it. They drove down through the woods which were gay with fireflies and noisy with the cheeping of cicadas. On reaching the rocks they threw off their bathing robes and went straight in, the water sparkling with cascades of phosphorescent drops as they struck out.
    As usual, Fleur and Douglas swam several hundred yardsand splashed about there for a time while Truss remained plunging and blowing on the shallow shelf of rock. But the water