A Hero for Leanda

obligation—and whatever happens, you will be the richer by five hundred pounds. What have you to lose?”
    “I don’t know—yeti” Conway said. “But there must be a catch in it somewhere. It all sounds too easy.”
    “There is no catch in it. My principal would like to see you—that is all.”
    “What have I got that’s so unusual—so valuable?" “Many qualities, Mr. Conway, if you are the man I take you for. Very many qualities. You will learn—if you go to Biarritz .”
    “Well,” Conway said slowly, “it’s the strangest thing I ever heard of....” For a moment he studied Venizelos in silence. He could see nothing sinister about him, nothing alarming. The man didn’t look in the least like a crook. The eyes behind the gold pince-nez were kindly.
    “This principal of yours...” Conway said at last. “He must have money to bum.”
    That is so,” Venizelos agreed. “To you, in your present position, five hundred pounds no doubt seems like wealth. To him, it is—how shall I put it?—a packet of cigarettes .“
    “It seems incredible.” Conway ran a hand through his thick, unruly hair. “Anyway, suppose I said I’d go—when would I get this money?”
    “You would get it now,” Venizelos said. He looked carefully round the bar. All the customers seemed busy with their own affairs. “I have an envelope in my pocket containing five hundred pounds in English bank notes—and a sheet of paper with all the instructions you will need.”
    Conway laughed. Incredulity was giving place to excitement. “You must be very sure of yourself.”
    “I thought it better to come prepared,” Venizelos said, with a hint of apology in his voice. “After all, Mr. Conway, it seemed reasonable enough. Here you are, a young, strong, vigorous man, without a job. You have lost your ship, and a chapter in your life has ended. You need money badly. You have already shown that you enjoy living adventurously. And here am I, offering you precisely what you want—a job, money and adventure. All you have to do is step into an airplane. As I said before, what have you to lose?”
    Conway said, “May I take a look at the instructions?”
    “Of course—but be a little prudent.” Venizelos thrust his small ringed hand into the breast pocket of his jacket and drew out a large white envelope, unsealed, which he handed across the table.
    Conway glanced inside it. There was a thick wad of bank notes—more than he had ever seen before at one time. There was also a paper with some typing on it. He took it out and read it. It said: a room is reserved for you AT THE HOTEL SUPERBE, BIARRITZ . BE AT THE FOOT OF THE LIFT AT BIARRITZ VILLE STATION AT 9 P.M. ON THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER l8, WITH A COPY OF FIGARO IN YOUR LEFT HAND.
    “Quite melodramatic!” Conway said, with a grin.
    “It is not intended to be. It is just a simple precaution to ensure a reasonable amount of secrecy.... Well, Mr. Conway?”
    “Well, Mr. Venizelos—perhaps I’m crazy, or perhaps you are—but there’s nothing in this place that’s holding me back, so I’ll take a chance and go. Do you want a receipt for this money?”
    “For a packet of cigarettes? I think that is hardly necessary.”
    “What about my transport?”
    “I took the liberty,” Venizelos said, “of reserving a place for you on the Air France flight that leaves here at three o’clock tomorrow afternoon. The ticket is paid for. You will have to change planes at Paris . It might be a good thing if you called at the Air France office in the morning to give them any particulars they may need. That is all... He got up, and held out his hand. “It has been a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Conway. I do not think you will come back here, so this is good-by—and good luck!”
    He smiled, picked up his hat and cane, and walked primly out of the bar.

    Once Venizelos had gone, it became much harder to believe in the bizarre and improbable episode. Several times Conway ’s hand strayed to his pocket, seeking reassurance that he hadn’t been dreaming, that the encounter had actually taken place. But the money was there all right, crisp and comforting. For a while he sat on in a pleasant glow. Whatever happened now, he would get out of Accra . Whatever happened, he would have a little capital to fall back on. His somber outlook had been transformed at a stroke.
    Back at the Rest House, the glow persisted. The prospect of meeting Venizelos’ principal and learning what he had to propose