she had spent time alone in much less salubrious surroundings in an effort to achieve her objective.
She looked about her. Everywhere there was evidence of the power that money emanated, and it was depressing to speculate on the waste of it all. Here she was, sitting above an enormous casino, without any intention of joining the tables, yet embarked upon the biggest gamble of her life. She drew deeply on her cigarette. He must come here tonight, she told herself passionately. Her funds were running desperately low and she could not, she would not, return to England without even having seen him. What would she tell her father if she was forced to do just that? Would he secretly believe she had funked the whole thing? Could he have done any better in her place? She cupped her chin on one slim hand and drew imaginary circles on the polished surface of the table with the other. Could he have done any worse?
But it hadn’t been easy, she had to justify herself. You couldn’t just arrive in an area like the Bahamas and expect to find one man in the space of a few hours, even if that man was well known and affluent. There were over seven hundred islands in the group scattered over some ninety thousand square miles of the south Atlantic. He could have been anywhere. He might even have been in London. It was not impossible. She knew he visited there occasionally. After all, hadn’t she met him on just such a visit? She supposed it had been foolish to imagine he would still own the house on the out-island, Conchera, but at least a telephone call had taken care of that and she had not wasted precious time and money chartering a boat to go to the island. He no longer had any part of the hotel to the west of Nassau above that marvellous beach where once they had used to swim, and he had sold the restaurant on Bay Street. Everywhere, she had seemed to draw a blank, and if people knew his whereabouts they were not saying. Of course, using her unmarried name of Jardin she had not aroused any interest or curiosity, and very likely those people she had asked had presumed her to be some kind of crank. It was logical at that. Someone who knew him and who he wanted to know would know of his whereabouts. But she couldn’t bring herself to use any other name. She had no intention of giving him the advantage of being forewarned of her presence in Nassau. Maybe that was a foolish and prideful thing to do, but she couldn’t help it.
And then, after spending hours in the Tourist Information Office, reading lists of hotels and night clubs, she had happened upon this place. It was the location that had done it. Years ago, he had told her that St. Auguste’s Point would make a marvellous site for a night club, and although then he had made no enquiries into its ownership, it was something he might have done in later years. Further enquiries had produced definite proof of ownership, and the head of the syndicate was the man she wanted to see.
She stubbed out her cigarette in the conch shell that served as an ashtray, and swallowed the remainder of her drink. It seemed obvious that it would take more than someone’s minor eruption at the tables to attract the attention of the club’s management. She frowned. There was nothing for it. She would have to go to the manager’s office and ask the whereabouts of the man she wanted to see. It was now or never. She might not get another opportunity. After all, it cost money just sitting here, drinking ginger sodas. And already the waiter was watching her with a speculative gaze. Maybe he thought she was some kind of confidence trickster, or possibly simply a thief. And if she were, there was certainly plenty of game here tonight. The ear-rings the girl was wearing on the adjoining table must be worth somewhere in the region of five thousand pounds, and the necklace that matched them was incalculable. She glanced down at the only ornamentation she wore, a broad gold band on her forearm. It was plain, but at least it was real, the only piece of jewellery she had retained. Her gown, however, could not compare with any of the creations worn here tonight. It was no Paris model, nor was it richly encrusted with jewels, but its plainness gave it an attraction she was unaware of amongst so many peacock plumes. And the smooth sweep of light chestnut hair was thick and shining, and she looked very young to be in such an adult place.
A man who had been watching her for several minutes unbeknown to her from the vantage point behind a trellis-work of climbing plants nodded decisively to the waiter who had drawn his attention to her and advanced towards her table. Reaching her side, he said in a low voice: ‘Are you waiting for someone, madam?’
Rachel looked up, and her eyes darkened with slight impatience. The man’s face reflected his absolute astonishment, and he drew out the chair opposite and sat down almost compulsively.
‘Rachel!’ he exclaimed. ‘What are you doing here?’
Rachel linked and unlinked her fingers. At last a familiar face, she thought with relief, and yet also with a feeling of disappointment, for now he would learn of her presence with or without her volition.
‘Hello, Ramon,’ she said, managing a smile. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine, fine!’ Ramon Sanchez was impatient. ‘I asked—what are you doing here? Does André know you are here?’ Then he smote a fist into the palm of his other hand. ‘Of course he does not, or I should have known!’
Rachel waited for the brilliance to die out of his eyes, and shrugged her shoulders slowly. ‘Your brother doesn’t know everything, Ramon.’
Ramon leaned forward. ‘Obviously not, but he has only yesterday returned from New York. How long are you here?’
Rachel managed to maintain a cool front. ‘Do you mean how long have I been here, or how long am I staying?’ she queried calmly.
Ramon chewed his lower lip. ‘Both.’
Rachel smiled. ‘You’re as impulsive as ever, Ramon. Tell me, is it by chance you’re here, or do you work here?’
‘The casino is my concern,’ replied Ramon reluctantly. ‘I am here most nights. I will be honest. My man, Arnoux, he noticed you here earlier, and he has been keeping an eye on you.’
Rachel gave a short laugh. ‘A suspicious character, is that it?’
‘Something like that,’ Ramon admitted. ‘But necessary, you must agree. One cannot be too careful.’
‘No, one cannot,’ she agreed, rather dryly.
Ramon rose abruptly to his feet. ‘Come,’ he said. ‘We cannot talk here. We will go to my suite.’
Rachel looked up at him lazily. ‘What have we to talk about?’
‘André.’
Rachel’s cheeks coloured slightly. ‘It’s André I wish to see.’
‘I know that.’
Rachel frowned. ‘Is it inconceivable to a member of the Sanchez family that I should be in New Providence for any other reason than to see your brother?’ Her tone was harsh.
Ramon bent, resting his hands on the table. ‘Yes,’ he said bleakly. ‘At this time—yes.’
‘At this time?’ Rachel’s frown deepened. ‘What does that mean?’
‘Do not pretend to be naïve with me, Rachel. Come: I insist. We cannot talk here.’
‘And if I refuse?’
‘Then you will never see André!’
Rachel compressed her lips. She knew better than to doubt his word, and this might be her last chance to achieve what she came for. With a resigned sigh, she rose to her feet, gathering her gloves and purse. ‘Very well,’ she said, ‘I’ll come with you.’
Ramon’s eyes
