The Great Game by Michael Kurland Page B

by their dress, it was the couple they had last seen docking a sailboat. And, now that she saw him at a reasonable distance, Cecily recognized the man. "Look," she said softly to Barnett. "The mystery is solved."
     
                  Barnett looked over at the table Cecily indicated. "Aha!" he said, acknowledging the nod of the newly seated gentleman. "It's our friend Signor Buleforte. And the lovely lady must be his wife. I didn't know he was a master mariner, along with his other talents."
     
                  Ariste Buleforte had been at the villa for the past two days, awaiting the arrival of his wife. He had met Cecily and Benjamin over the bridge table the night of his arrival. He was well traveled, a pleasant conversationalist, and a keen bridge player.
     
                  Deciding that a mere nod was insufficient greeting, Signor Buleforte rose and bowed to Benjamin and Cecily. "A pleasure to see you this morning," he said in his precise English. "Allow me to present to you my wife, Diane Buleforte. My dear, these are the Barnetts; that English couple I mentioned to you. They are avid bridge players."
     
                  Barnett rose in turn and bowed slightly over Signora Buleforte's hand. "Delighted," he said, deciding not to dispute Buleforte's belief that he was English. "We watched you arrive on the sloop a little while ago. It made a charming picture. You are an excellent sailor, Signor Buleforte."
     
                  "Please," Buleforte said. "Ariste. I insist. Ariste and Diane. And we will call you Benjamin and Cecily." He said it as though he were conveying a special favor on them instead of being slightly rude. But somehow, when he said it, it was charming.
     
                  Benjamin found deep within his soul a touch of jealousy at this man whose mastery of the social graces was so smooth that he could smilingly ignore them. Barnett was sure that if he walked up to some comparative stranger and said, "Ho Mr. Smith—let me just call you 'George' from now on," the stranger would reply "not on your life," and stalk off. But if Buleforte did it, George would feel grateful and hand him a cigar. There was something about the man. Barnett did feel grateful, even as he was annoyed at himself for doing so.
     
                  "Ariste, then," Barnett agreed. "And is your lovely wife as avid a bridge player as you are? If so, perhaps we could get in a couple of rubbers after dinner."
     
                  "What could be nicer than a bit of mental stimulation after a day's physical stimulation?" Ariste Buleforte asked. "A morning of tennis, an afternoon dip in the lake, and an evening's auction bridge. Surely no prince could spend a better day. Or princess, either. What do you say to that, my princess?"
     
                  "It will be most relaxing," Diane Buleforte replied, smiling a winsome smile. "Mr. and Mrs. Barnett—Benjamin and Cecily— would perhaps like to join us for tennis. We could perhaps play doubles."
     
                  And so they did.
     
    -
     
                  Herr Lindner left the breakfast room while the Barnetts and the Bulefortes were discussing their future. Thoughtfully, as though considering a matter of the greatest importance, he made his way up to his room. Once inside, he locked the door and opened wide his window, which faced out upon the lake. The last of the haze had lifted, burned off by the late morning sun, and there on the lake, as far out as he could see, was a black dot that, with the aid of a pair of binoculars that he kept on the window ledge, resolved itself into a small boat with its single sail furled. Lindner was gratified by the sight, but it was not with the eye of an artist that he regarded it.
     
                  He went to the bottom drawer of his bureau and withdrew from it an elaborate apparatus of brass and wood, folded about