The Sailcloth Shroud by Charles Williams 1960(page 8)

And then with a shy little smile she was
fumbling with the straps and buckles. The
negligee slipped from her body and she
stood before him completely nude, glossy,
deep-chested, clean-limbed, her
conformation impossible to fault. His
heart leaped. . . .
He ought to get a bet down on her before the
windows closed, Colby thought. There wasn’t much
doubt it needed the Flanagan touch to whip it into
final shape. After four o’clock he began to check the
time every few minutes. It was four-twenty . . . fourthirty-
five. ... At four-forty Dudley came in carrying
the two maps and a briefcase bulging with francs.
Colby checked the money. It was all right. As he was
closing the briefcase they heard the tapping of heels
in the hallway. Martine came in. She had changed
into a severe dark suit that looked like Balenciaga,
and in place of the mink was wearing a cloth coat
that was probably easier to drive in. It was obvious
from her expression that she had news.

The Sailcloth Shroud by Charles Williams 1960(page 7)

She shrugged. Happy prisoners were probably
rare anywhere. Colby gathered she had work of her
own to do without getting involved in American
activities like trapping each other, and in any event
nothing that happened in this household would ever
surprise her in the slightest. When, however, he
outlined just how the prisoner was to be allowed to
escape, her interest quickened. Yes, of course she
could understand one hundred francs spoken in
English. Also two hundred. Who knows, maybe he
would bring five hundred, if allowed to age a little
more.
No, Colby said, the essential was to harvest him as
quickly as possible; price was secondary. While he
wouldn’t dream of subjecting her to the humiliation
of taking the first offer, she must limit the
negotiations to a maximum of three minutes. She
agreed, though somewhat reluctantly. And now—
about splitting the take? It was all hers, Colby said,
and realized at once this was probably a tactical
error.

The Sailcloth Shroud by Charles Williams 1960(page 6)

“That’s right.”
The Wrong Venus — 41
“If they’re going to kidnap Americans, why the hell
don’t they learn English?”
“Look at the rest of it. Are there any figures?”
“Yeah. Here’s something that looks like one
hundred thousand. I guess that’s a one in front.”
“The European one. Dollars or francs?”
“Dollars—” Dudley did a double take, and gasped.
“A hundred thousand dollars? Are they nuts?”
“They think they’ve got Miss Manning.”
“I don’t care if they’ve got the Lido floor show. I
haven’t got a hundred thousand dollars.”
“Okay,” Colby said crisply. “You need help, and
you need it bad. But one thing at a time. We’ve got
to get to Paris.” He glanced at his watch. “We’ll see
what we can do about that reporter, and then try to
be at the house when your friend calls again. We
should be able to make it before five p.m. If he calls
before we get there, keep saying rappelez à cinq
heures—rappelez à cinq heures. Can you do that?”
“Rappley a sank ur. I can remember it.”

The Wrong Venus by Charles Williams 1966(page 5)

“Beautifully—until four days ago.”
The Wrong Venus — 33
In July, Dudley had gone to New York and located
a couple of writers, and brought them back to Paris
as a security measure. Naturally, the whole thing
had to be kept secret. Miss Manning’s literary agent
and publisher didn’t know she had disappeared, and
would go up like Krakatoa if they found out what
was going on. Dudley forged her signature on
correspondence and contracts.
As a team, the two writers clicked from the first
minute. Neither could have written it alone—one
hadn’t written anything in fifteen years and the
other had never written fiction at all—but together
they rolled it out like toothpaste, and it was pure
Manning. In two months they had half of it done.
Dudley sent that much of it off to New York, and her
agent and publisher raved about it. They said it was
the best thing she’d ever done.