THE noise of the plane was a steady drone in her ears as Rose leaned back in her seat and looked through the window at the coastline of France thousands of feet below. One silver wing dipped as they turned northward and within a few moments the blue waters of the Mediterranean could be seen no more and ahead, obscured by cloud, lay the snow-capped mountains of the Alps.
From the moment she had locked her bedroom door on Lance, she had known there was only one course of action open to her; to set him free. It was not fair to tie him any longer to a loveless marriage. Once she had decided this, it was as if a weight had lifted from her shoulders.
But as the hours passed and she settled down in a chair by the window and watched the dawn slowly rise in the sky, she acknowledged that his behavior had been typical of most men in the same situation. Coming from Susan, his senses still aroused, his passion till unabated, he had taken another woman in his arms and kissed her. There was no insult in it and only hurt pride had made her lose her temper. Her cheeks burned as she remembered the bitter things she had said and the thought of seeing him again filled her with such
embarrassment that she determined to leave the villa first thing in the
morning. Whatever she had to say to him could be put in a letter; conversation between them would only lead to recriminations or worse still, his reiteration that his marriage was important to him and must continue.
She pushed back her chair and began to pace the room again. There was no doubt that if Lance were free he would marry Susan and, because she
desperately wanted his happiness, she realized the only way to give it to him was to get an annulment. Then they would both be free to go their separate ways. But would Lance be free? Would he not still be bound to her by guilt?
Indeed, it would be even stronger in the realization that he had let her down.
Reluctantly she came to the conclusion that to give Lance his freedom would not be enough; she would have to give him his freedom of mind too. And the only way she could do that was to make herself well again.
She thought of the time she had spent in the nursing home and all that the doctor had said to her, wondering in which direction lay the solution. Suddenly, the last conversation she had had with him came to her mind. He had
mentioned a Professor Salberg in Switzerland who had perfected an operation which, if successful, would give a complete cure and which, if unsuccessful, could result in death. It was the hardest decision she had ever had to make in her life! To have the operation and run the risk of death, or not have the
operation and commit both herself and Lance to a marriage that would become increasingly intolerable as the years passed.
The more she thought about it the more she realized that an operation was the only logical action, and when at last dawn filled the sky she had decided to go to Zurich immediately.
Only the maids were stirring when she left the villa in an ancient taxi that had come from the nearest village. She had decided against using the chauffeur for fear he would tell Lance her destination, but when she reached the airport and saw the crowds of people she regretted her action, for it was well nigh
impossible to get a porter. Luckily the taxi driver took pity on her and carried her case to the desk where she could collect her ticket. She tipped him
generously and was rewarded by verbose thanks and a blast of heavy garlic breath that left her gasping as she handed her boarding card to the stewardess and walked across the tarmac to the plane.
It was only when Rose landed at Zurich and went into a telephone box to ring the Professor that she realized he might refuse to see her without a letter from her doctor. But it was too late to do anything about it now and she dialled the man's number with a trembling hand. Was he at home or was he abroad on one of his many journeys? A continual burring sounded in her ears and in
despair she had decided there was no answer when the receiver was picked up at the other end. A few moments later she emerged from the booth and hailed a taxi, giving the Professor's address in a voice which was already shaky with fear.
Rose's interview with him was shorter than she had anticipated for after
examining her he told her he could make no decision until he had seen X-rays of her injury.
"If you could give me the name of the doctor who attended you it would save time."
"I can't. I don't want to get in touch with him.
Seeing Professor Salberg's enquiring look she felt duty bound to explain.
"My husband doesn't know I want to have the operation," she said. "If he found out he'd try and stop me. That's why I've told no one. No one at all."
"Do you think it wise? After all, your husband has a right to know."
"He hasn't," she said firmly. "It's my life and my decision."
The Professor stared at her and then seeing she did not intend to say more, picked up a pen and began to write on a paper in front of him. After a moment he lifted up his head and handed her the sheet. "If you'll take this and go to my nursing home, you will be X-rayed. I suggest you spend the night there, because if, after studying the pictures, I decide to operate I will wish to do so at once."
"I see____ I…"
"There's still time for you to change your mind," he said gently.
"No. I don't want to change my mind. It's just that somehow I never thought you'd agree to do it so quickly."
"I haven't agreed yet, my dear, but if I do decide to go ahead I see no point in keeping you waiting. The longer the wait the greater the fear will become and that is something I do not wish my patients to have."
He stood up and Rose followed him to the door. He shook her hand firmly and motioned his receptionist to show her out, promising to call and see her at the nursing home that evening when he would tell her of his final decision.
For the whole of the afternoon Rose lay on a hard metal table in the X-ray room of the Professor's clinic on the outskirts of Zurich. She had thought the X-rays she had had after her accident had been thorough, but they were as
nothing compared with the dozens of pictures that were taken of her that afternoon. She was photographed from every angle, prodded and poked and questioned until she felt there was nothing about her body that the radiologist
did not know.
When all the pictures had been completed she was allowed to go to her bedroom, a green-walled room over- loooking a large, tree shaded garden, now covered with snow. She had forgotten how cold Switzerland could be in the winter and was glad she had had the foresight to bring a woollen
bedjacket. But even lying in bed she was not allowed to rest for there were visits from two other doctors who took blood tests and asked her yet more questions.
At eight o'clock Professor Salberg came into her room and stood at the foot of her bed.
"If you really want this operation," he said gravely, "I am prepared to do it. But I must warn you it is a dangerous one."
"I know. But I want you to go ahead."
"Don't you think you should let your husband know? At least tell him of your decision and ask him to be here with you."
"No. I want to be alone." She leaned forward. "I'd like you to do it as soon as possible."
"I've already told you I will. I merely wanted you to know that I was willing to wait for you to contact your husband and get him here. However, your decision is the final one." He held out his hand. "I will operate tomorrow, so next time I see you, you will be in this room after the operation."
"Won't I see you in the theatre?"
"Not if the anaesthetist does his job properly! Goodnight and God be with you."
The words of his benediction helped her to relax. Fear had gone and so had all emotion, leaving her numb. She could think of Lance dispassionately, think of his future with another woman and of her own future, or perhaps no future at all. But no matter what she thought, no emotion penetrated from her brain to her heart, and she closed her eyes and fell asleep.
It was well after mid-day when Lance awoke. The pills had done their work well and he yawned and stretched, lying back on the pillows until his strength
returned with full vigor. Hurriedly he sat up, pushed aside the bedclothes and
strode into the bathroom whistling under his breath as he shaved and bathed and made his way downstairs.
"Rose!" he called as he reached the hall. "Rose, where are you?"
There were only two things in his mind. To tell Rose that his flirtation with Susan was a pretence and, more important of all, that he had realized all she herself meant to him.
"Rose," he called again. "Where are you?"
Alan came out of the library and Susan out of the drawing room.
Lance looked from one to the other. ''Where's Rose?" he asked.
"I don't know," Susan said. "She isn't in her room and Alan and I thought perhaps you might know."
"How on earth should I know? Where's Louise?" He strode into the drawing room and rang the bell, asking the maid who appeared to tell Louise, Rose's personal maid, to come to him at once.
When the woman arrived she could shed no light on Rose's absence either.
"When I went to her room this morning she was not there and the bed was not slept in. I thought maybe she had not come home last night."
"Of course she came home last night," Lance said abruptly. "I went into her bedroom and—" he stopped. "Well, never mind, we're not concerned with last night. I want to know where she is now!" He looked at Alan. "Have you spoken to the chauffeur? Maybe she's gone down to town?"
Alan shook his head. "She hasn't done that. I checked."
Lance looked at Louise again. "Go up to Mrs. Hammond's room and see if anything's missing."
The woman went out and Lance lit a cigarette and chainsmoked the minutes away until Louise appeared again.
"I've checked in Madame's wardrobe," she said, "and all her clothes are there."
"Well, she can't have gone away," Susan said with a sigh of relief.
"But one or two odd things are missing," Louise went on, her guttural voice expressionless.
"What sort of things?" Lance asked sharply. "Come on, woman, for heaven's sake out with it."
But Louise was not to be hurried and at Lance's impatience her voice became even slower. "Her travelling coat has gone and so have her toilet articles. But she hasn't taken any evening clothes or any furs or jewels."
"In that case she can't have intended to go away for long. I wonder if she went to London?" He rubbed the side of his face. "But if she did that, why didn't she ask the chauffeur to take her to the airport?" He picked up the telephone.
"What's the number of the local taxi service?"
Alan gave it to him and within a moment Lance was speaking to the proprietor.
When he put the phone down again he looked puzzled and worried.
"Rose apparently rang them early this morning and ordered a taxi to take her to the airport. I can't understand why she didn't use the car."
"Maybe she wanted to keep her destination secret," Susan said. "If the taxi driver took her he'd just leave her at the airport, but the chauffeur would be much more likely to know where she was going."
"So would the taxi driver," Lane retorted. "They're an inquisitive lot when it comes to celebrities."
He dialled the taxi service again and when he put down the receiver this time he looked glum. "We'll have to wait until tonight. The chap who took Rose to the airport went straight on to another job in Le Lavandou. He'll be staying overnight and won't get back until tomorrow."
Alan went over to the sideboard and poured a tot of whisky. He added soda and brought the glass over to Lance. "Drink this and don't look so worried.
Maybe Rose has gone to see her father. I'll go into the library and phone him."
But Alan also drew a blank. Desmond Tiverton had received no word from Rose, although he promised to phone the villa if he heard anything.
Lunch was a gloomy affair, all of them preoccupied with their own fears. There was no doubt in Susan's mind that Rose had left the villa because she loved Lance and she decided to tell Lance what she thought immediately she was alone with him.
"I wish I could be as sure of that as you are," he said soberly. "She could also have left the villa because she hated me."
"Rubbish!" Susan said scornfully. "Rose is head over heels in love with you. If I hadn't been so preoccupied with my own affairs I'd have seen it from the word go. After all, why should she have married you?"
"Because I asked her soon after her accident when she was feeling depressed.
And because she knew I needed her… that I felt guilty…"
"That makes me even more certain." Susan was triumphant. "If Rose hadn't loved you she wouldn't have cared how guilty you felt. Honestly, Lance, you really are a fool!"
Lance stared into the fire, seeing in the flames pictures of the past. Susan was right. What a fool he had been falling in love with brainless women and not seeing the worth of the one by his side. And yet was that strictly true? Rose had impinged on him from the moment he had met her — even when he had been engaged to Enid he had been aware of the charm of the "little florist from the flower shop." In the end, when his romance with Enid had shattered, it was to Rose he had turned. At the time he had believed his offer to marry her had been prompted by guilt, yet now, analyzing his emotions he knew that it had not been guilt at all but a desire to be with her, a belief that only with her could he find some semblance of peace. His blindness had not been that he had lacked love — merely that he had failed to recognize it.
"Where the hell can she have got to?" he asked abruptly and stopped as the telephone rang. Before he could reach it Alan picked it up in the other room and Lance hurried to the door.
He was halfway across the hall when Alan came out of the library, his face white.
"That was the taxi proprietor," he said. "He managed to get on to his chap at Le Lavandou. Apparently Rose took the plane to Zurich."
"Zurich? Why on earth would she want to go there?"
The two men stared at one another and slowly realization dawned on them.
"Isn't there a professor in Zurich who… ?"
Alan nodded.
"I remember her telling me he specialized in spinal operations."
"Good lord, I've got to stop her! It's one of the most tricky operations there is."
Lance strode into the library, calling to Alan over his shoulder. "Get me the doctor who looked after Rose, will you? I must speak to him immediately and find out the professor's address."
Twenty minutes later Lance replaced the telephone with a shaking hand. There was a three-hour delay to Zurich, three hours which might mean the difference between life and death for Rose, the woman he loved. Backwards and forwards he walked across the room, regardless of Alan and Susan watching him with compassion.
It was seven o'clock that evening before Lance was able to speak to the
Professor's clinic, but even here he met with no success, for no one by name of Rose Hammond was booked in as a patient. Lance, wondering whether she had used another name, asked if he could speak to the Professor himself, for he knew that once he explained Rose's case the man would know immediately whether she were there. But here again he drew blank, for the Professor, having finished a difficult operation, had left the Clinic and could not be reached by telephone.
"But I must be able to get him," Lance shouted down the receiver. "Give me his private number."
"I'm afraid we cannot do that," said the voice at the other end. "The Herr Professor is very tired and is not to be disturbed on any account."
"But what about the patient he's operated on?" Lance stormed. "Say something goes wrong there, won't you call him?"
"The Professor will naturally be called if his patient needs him," the voice said with finality, "but he must not be called for anyone else. He has a big operation in the morning and needs to rest."
Cursing under his breath, Lance put down the telephone. "These officious people in hospitals… There's only one thing for it. I'll have to fly to Zurich. I feel in my bones Rose is there. Damn it all, why else would she want to go?"
He left the room and Alan heard him run up the stairs.
"Do you think I should go with him?" Susan asked.
"Don't you think you might be in the way? After all, it was because of you that Rose left here."
Susan reddened. "I suppose you mean because of my flirtation with Lance?"
Susan reddened. "I suppose you mean because of my flirtation with Lance?"