Fleming, Ian Bond 11 (1963) On her Majestys Secret Servi

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sweat running down his face. He took out his handkerchief and mopped at it.' Gosh, it's hot out here in the sun! That was some
pal of my first cousin's. My cousin had the same name. Collateral branch. Died not long ago, poor chap.' He frowned sadly.
'Didn't know this man from Adam. Nice-looking fellow.' Bond looked bravely across the table. 'Do you know any of his party,
Fraulein Bunt?'
Without looking at the party, Fraulein Bunt said shortly, 'No, I do not know everyone who comes here.' The yellow eyes
were still inquisitive, holding his. 'But it was a curious coincidence. Were you very alike, you and your cousin?'
'Oh, absolutely,' said Bond, gushing. 'Spit image. Often used to get taken for each other.' He looked across at the English
group. Thank God they were picking up their things and going. They didn't look particularly smart or prosperous. Probably
staying at Pontresina or under the ex-officers' scheme at St Moritz. Typical English skiing party. With any luck they were just
doing the big runs in the neighbour-' hood one by one. Bond reviewed the way the conversation had gone while coffee came
and he made cheerful small talk with Ruby, whose foot was again clamped against his, about her skiing progress that morning.
Well, he decided, the woman couldn't have heard much of it with all the clatter and chatter from the surrounding tables. But
it had been a narrow squeak, a damned narrow squeak. The second of the day! So much for walking on tiptoe inside the enemy
lines! Not good enough! Definitely not good enough!
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Princess Ruby?
MY DEAR Sable Basilisk,
I arrived safely - by helicopter, if you please! - at this beautiful place called Piz Gloria, 10,000 feet up somewhere in the
Engadine. Most comfortable with an excellent male staff of several nationalities and a most efficient secretary to the Count
named Fraulein Irma Bunt who tells me that she comes from Munich.
I had a most profitable interview with the Count this morning as a result of which he wishes me to stay on for a week to
complete the first draft of his genealogical tree. I do hope you can spare me for so long. I warned the Count that we had much
work to do on the new Commonwealth States. He himself, though busily engaged on what sounds like very public-spirited
research work on allergies and their cause (he has ten English girls here as his patients), has agreed to see me daily in the hope
that together we may be able to bridge the gap between the migration of the de Bleuvilles from France and their subsequent
transference, as Blofelds, from Augsburg to Gdynia. I have suggested to him that we conclude the work with a quick visit to
Augsburg for the purposes you and I discussed, but he has not yet given me his decision.
Please tell my cousin Jenny Bray that she may be hearing from a friend of her late husband who apparently served with him
in the Lovat Scouts. He came up to me at lunch today and took me for the other Hilary! Quite a coincidence!
Working conditions are excellent. We have complete privacy here, secure from the madding world of skiers, and very
sensibly the girls are confined to their rooms after ten at night to put them out of the temptation of roaming and gossiping.
They seem a very nice lot, from all over the United Kingdom, but rather on the dumb side!
Now for my most interesting item. The Count has not got lobes to his ears! Isn't that good news! He also is of a most
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distinguished appearance and bearing with a fine head of silvery hair and a charming smile. His slim figure also indicates
noble extraction. Unfortunately he has to wear dark-green contact lenses because of weak eyes and the strength of the sunshine
at this height, and his aquiline nose is blemished by a deformed nostril which I would have thought could easily have been put
right by facial surgery. He speaks impeccable English with a gay lilt to his voice and I am sure that we will get on very well.
Now to get down to business. It would be most helpful if you would get in touch with the old printers of the Almanach de
Gotha and see if they can help us over our gaps in the lineage. They may have some traces. Cable anything helpful. With the
new evidence of the ear-lobes I am quite confident that the connexion exists.
That's all for now.
Yours ever,
HILARY BRAY
P.S. Don't tell my mother, or she will be worried for my safety among the eternal snows! But we had a nasty accident here
this morning. One of the staff, a Yugoslav it seems, slipped on the bob-run and went the whole way to the bottom! Terrible
business. He's apparently being buried in Pontresina tomorrow. Do you think we ought to send some kind of a wreath? H.B.
Bond read the letter several tunes. Yes, that would giv the officers in charge of Operation 'Corona' plenty to bite on
Particularly the hint that they should get the dead man's name from the registrar in Pontresina. And he had covered up a bit on
the Bray mix-up when the letter, as Bond was sure it would be, was steamed open and photostated before dispatch. They might
of course just destroy it. To prevent this, the bit of bogosity about the Almanach de Gotha would be a clincher. This source of
heraldic knowledge hadn't been mentioned before. It would surely excite the interest of Blofeld.
Bond rang the bell, handed out the letter for dispatch, and got back to his work, which consisted initially of going into the
bathroom with the strip of plastic and his scissors in his pocket and snipping two inch-wide strips off the end. These would be
enough for the purposes he and, he hoped, Ruby would put them to. Then, using the first joint of his thumb as a rough guide,
he marked off the remaining eighteen inches into inch measures, to support his lie about the ruler, and went back to his desk
and to the next hundred years of the de Bleuvilles.
At about five o'clock the light got so bad that Bond got up from his table and stretched, preparatory to going over to the
light-switch near the door. He took a last look out of the window before he dosed it. The veranda was completely deserted and
the foam rubber cushions for the reclining-chairs had already been taken in. From the direction of the cable-head there still
came the whine of machinery that had been part of the background noises to the day. Yesterday the railway had closed at about
five, and it must be time for the last pair of gondolas to complete their two-way journey and settle in their respective stations
for the night. Bond closed the double windows, walked across to the thermostat and put it down to seventy. He was just about [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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