The Betrayers by Donald Hamilton

imposed on the natives in the name of modesty; and then there was the slim oriental cheongsam style, which was a different proposition entirely. It had not been invented to keep susceptible missionaries from being aroused beyond endurance by the naked charms of uninhibited young native girls. On the contrary, it had been designed to make Chinese women attractive to Chinese men. It workedpretty well on other races, too, I decided, watching the hostess walk gracefully out of sight.
    Of course, that was quite beside the point. What really mattered was that Jill had apparently not been lying when she suggested that Isobel McLain had known about me before we met. Now it appeared that the woman had even arranged the meeting, in spite of the cool and remote attitude she’d exhibited at the time.
    Going toward my room, I rubbed my head hard with my towel, frowning, but it didn’t help my cerebral processes in the least. I still couldn’t see how this piece fitted into the puzzle itself. It wasn’t really surprising, I reflected, since I didn’t yet have a very clear view of the puzzle itself…
    I smelled cigarette smoke in the hall outside my room. It was drifting out through the slat door. I decided that anybody who intended to murder me wouldn’t set fire to a lot of tobacco to warn me, opened the door, and stopped, looking at the man inside. Then I sighed, stepped in, and closed the door behind me.
    “Well, it’s about time you made a personal appearance,” I said. “I was getting a bit fed up with secondhand reports and mysterious telephone calls.”
    The Monk rose from the armchair in which he’d been sitting and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. I remembered that he had always smoked like a sooty chimney. Apparently it hadn’t killed him yet, which was a pity.
    “I don’t know how you do it,” he said admiringly.“I just don’t know how you do it, Eric. There must be something about you invisible to the male eye that just bowls them over, old and young.”
    I said, “Oh, you mean that crazy kid you sicced on me. Has she been phoning in her woes already?”
    Monk shook his head enviously. “I just don’t know how you do it,” he repeated. “Kick them out of bed, give them some corny song-and-dance about a broken heart, and damned if they don’t come crawling back asking you to wipe your feet on them. Do you know you’ve practically ruined a potentially good agent for me?”
    I said, “You’ve got it backwards, haven’t you? I didn’t ruin her; that’s just what she’s griping about.” I laughed shortly. “You mean the little screwball actually meant all that love-guff she was handing me out there in the surf? Hell, if I’d known that, I’d have played Romeo to her Juliet just to spite you. I thought she was feeding me a line, and a pretty corny one at that.”
    “I know. She told me. Well, I should have known better than to use a female on you, particularly a young and impressionable one. She won’t bother you again.”
    “That just leaves the older one,” I said. “I guess she’ll be harder to impress, but I’ll give it a whirl.”
    He was frowning. “The older… oh, you mean the McLain?”
    I grinned. “Monk, this is Eric, old pal, old pal. Don’t pull that blank-faced act on me. Hell, I know the routine as well as you do. You put a tail on me I’m supposed to spot. Then you have a pretty girl make a play for me. When Isee through her, too, I get to feeling real smart; I think I’ve got you all figured out. I accept agent number three as a genuine lady tourist, particularly when she acts as if she doesn’t give a damn about me. And most particularly after your boys work her over a bit on some feeble excuse and give her a nice little careful nick in the scalp that bleeds very convincingly. Obviously no attractive woman would allow herself to be messily wounded just to prove she’s got nothing to do with you. Obviously. It’s only been done a couple of hundred times that