The Sailcloth Shroud by Charles Williams 1960(page 10)

She turned and looked. “My God!” Her elbow
knocked over the briefcase, and several packets of
one-hundred-franc notes spilled out on the table just
as the waiter arrived with the champagne. He
stopped, rooted, his mouth hanging open. Then
Colby’s gears meshed at last. He began scooping up
the bundles of francs and cramming them back into
the briefcase. Stripping a note from the last one, he
threw it on the table, zipped the briefcase, and they
headed for the entrance just as the gendarme
trotted in.
“One moment, Mademoiselle!” he said, and made
what was probably the greatest mistake of his
career up to that time. He put out a hand. Colby
groaned.
The Wrong Venus — 100
9
He went up, wheeling, came off the shoulder, and
headed rearward in a spectacular flash of blue. In
some corner of his mind not completely numb with
horror, Colby noted that she didn't seem to be
getting quite the distance she had earlier in the
morning. It might have been because he was a
bigger man, mature and solid and heavier all
around, and perhaps a little out of balance for
perfect flight trim with the gun attached to one side
of his belt, but more likely it was simply because she
hadn't had breakfast.

The Sailcloth Shroud by Charles Williams 1960(page 9)

“Actually, she can imitate any style of writing, and
this stuff of Manning’s was a cinch for her. She did a
The Wrong Venus — 79
page of it in Faulkner one day, just to bug
Merriman, and it was perfect. She could write as
fast as Sanborn, too, but she’s just not overwhelmed
with the seriousness of it all. The reason he got
ahead of her is he slept nights.
“Sometimes she wouldn’t get home till ten a.m.,
long after he’d gone to work. For breakfast she’d
have a split of champagne, six cups of coffee, and
three or four eggs, and then sit down at the
typewriter and start banging away. Vitality galore.”
“I can see how she and Dudley might get on each
other’s nerves,” Colby said. “Oh, she never paid any
attention to him. She just laughed at him or brushed
him off like a gnat—except that morning they had
the argument, I mean. She was apparently upset
about something, and when he started complaining
about her late hours, she blew up and told him off.”
“And that was the day she was kidnapped.”

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.