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"The Adventures of Julia," Todd Publishing Co., London, 1954
"You'd Be Surprised," Ace Books H320, 1959
THE little clock on the mantelpiece struck seven. I switched on the electric light and looked at myself in the pier glass. I thought: Well, Julia, even if it is war time, and even if the Splendide is full of war correspondents, I don't see why you shouldn't make the best of yourself. After all, even a war correspondent has to take his mind off his work sometimes.
When I went down into the lounge, I thought I looked rather nice. I had on a sleek tailored coat and skirt of watered moiré silk, sheer beige silk stockings, and rather neat black glacé court shoes with tiny diamond buckles. My coat was caught at the waist with a small diamond link, and underneath was a duck-egg blue chiffon blouse. I wore one very good bracelet that looked like diamonds—even if it wasn't—two or three effective rings, and a charming expression with just a slight touch of hauteur.
Perhaps at this stage of the game you ought to know that I am thirty-five years of age. I have Titian red hair, my figure is considered to be good, and I have medals for knowing my way about. And if you want any further information you won't get it. All this is leading up to the fact that I was feeling rather unhappy.
About this business of being unhappy; you know, mes enfants, just as well as I do, that there are only three sorts of trouble that ever come to any man or woman—health, money, and love. Well, my health is very good and I have—up to now—always taken a very dim view of falling in love. That leaves you one guess and you'd be right—it was money!
Five minutes' intense calculation in the sanctity of my bedroom earlier in the afternoon had shown me that my existing capital would see me through at the Hotel Splendide for about two weeks, providing I double-crossed every waiter and page-boy in the place, did my own hair, and closed my eyes every time I passed the flower shop.
SO now you know exactly what the position was. I found a
comfortable armchair in the lounge and proceeded to do a little
quiet thinking. I had to formulate some plan of campaign,
but you can take it from me that formulating a plan of campaign
in these days is no easy proposition.
Then somebody said 'Hello!'
It was a man. I took a quick look at him. I didn't like him very much. He was well-dressed and had assurance and that was about all there was to him.
He sat down in the chair opposite me. He said: 'Well, and how is Miss Heron?'
I said: 'Thank you for the enquiry, sir, but I don't think I know you.'
He smiled—a rather cruel smile it was. He said: 'You don't know me, but I expect you remember me. Cast your mind back to a little trouble with a bad-tempered waiter in a night club in the Rua Garret in Lisbon last year. I was the one who dealt with him. Remember now?'
I said: 'I see. So that was you, was it?'
'That was me,' he said. 'Would you mind if I cut out all the frills and get down to hard tacks?'
'I don't know what you're talking about,' I told him. 'I don't know what you mean by cutting out the frills. What frills, and what hard tacks?'
'I'll tell you,' he said. 'You see, I happen to know all about you. You arrived in this country five days ago. You're staying at this hotel, and I think your finances are in a not very good condition. Right?'
'I don't see why I should answer questions,' I said. 'But even if your guesses are right, I don't see what any of this has to do with you.'
'You will,' he said, airily, and I disliked him more than ever. He went on: 'I don't know if you've read the evening papers, but if you have you may have seen something about some airplane plans having been left in a Service car by a rather careless official. Well, that's not quite true. Those plans were stolen. The gentleman who has them at the moment is somebody whom I think you once knew. His name's Valtazzi. He used to be a croupier in one of the gaming houses in Lisbon.'
'I remember the name,' I said, 'but I fail to see what airplane plans and Mr. Valtazzi have to do with me.'
'Be patient,' he said. He continued: 'Valtazzi's got those plans. He's been snooping around this country for about four months. He's working with another man—Wolfgang—a German, posing as a Swede, a very clever fellow, who's living somewhere in the country. Having got the plans, Valtazzi, who is getting a little frightened of the situation, wants to get rid of them and get out. But he can't very well sell them to his own chief without using somebody else. I happen to know that he's looking for an intermediary—someone who is not, shall we say, too scrupulous.'
'Meaning me?' I said.
'Meaning you,' he repeated.
I didn't say anything.
He went on: 'We have a man working in close touch with Valtazzi. Of course, Valtazzi doesn't know this individual is in our employ, so it's going to be very easy for us to suggest, through this contact, that you are here in England and are rather up against it. If I'm not very much mistaken, Valtazzi will get in touch with you and suggest that you do a deal with his boss over the plans.'
I said: 'All this is no doubt very interesting and very exciting, but I don't see what it has to do with me and I don't know that I want anything to do with it. Incidentally, who are you and what are you?'
He smiled. It was a rather self-satisfied sort of smile. He said: 'Possibly you've heard of the Secret Service. Well, you know, it does exist. And I think that you'll be quite prepared to help over this little business.'
'Do you?' I asked. 'Why?'
'For several reasons,' he said. 'You know, there are one or two little incidents in your past which you might not like to have raked up—that little affair, for instance, at Juan les Pins.'
I sighed. 'I see,' I murmured. 'So this is a sort of blackmail?'
'If you like,' he said. 'My advice to you is to render me the assistance I require, in which case you will also be doing your country a service, and in which case I shall be quite happy to keep my mouth closed about the Juan les Pins business.'
I sighed again. I said: 'It doesn't look as if I have very much choice, does it?'
He said: 'No, you haven't really. You'd much better play ball.'
'Very well,' I said. 'If it's like that, I'll play ball, although I must say I don't like your methods. But I should like to know that you do work for the Secret Service. I should like to know something about you.'
He produced a card from his waistcoat pocket. He gave it to me. He said:
'If you like to enquire at the Department in Whitehall on that card, they'll tell you all about me. They'll probably tell you that it will be much healthier for you to do what I want you lo do.'
I said: 'All right. You win. What is it you want me to do?'
'It's very simple,' he said. 'We'll get our man to let Valtazzi know that you're here and to suggest you're the person for this job. We've rather an idea that Valtazzi will want to get this business finished some time next week. He'll do it then because he's about to leave the country. He's got an exit permit. My guess is he'll get in touch with you. He'll ask you to deliver those plans to his associate and take the money. He'll probably pay you a small rake-off.'
I nodded. 'And what do I do?' I asked.
'If he does that,' he said, 'you'll take the plans. He'll probably have an appointment made for you to hand them over. You hand them over, but you'll let me know when and where in advance, so that we'll get the plans and Valtazzi's associate. After which, when you return to Valtazzi to hand over the money, we'll get him too. It's all very simple, isn't it?'
I said: 'Yes. The way you say it, it sounds quite simple.'
He got up. He said: 'Well, I'll be seeing you. I should think Valtazzi would get in touch with you here within a few days.'
The smile disappeared from his face. He looked a trifle grim. He said: 'And don't try any funny business. You've got a reputation for being an extremely clever woman. You'll find it won't pay to be clever with me.'
I looked at him. 'You're quite delightful,' I said, 'aren't you? But you make me feel terribly tired.'
He said: 'That's as maybe, but I always get results.'
'It must be awfully nice to be you,' I said.
He turned on that funny little cynical smile of his and went away. I sat down and ordered another cocktail. I needed it.
WHEN I went in, the man who was sitting behind the big desk in
the Whitehall Office gave me a very long, curious look; then he
smiled. I thought he looked rather nice. He was thin, very
experienced-looking, and had well-developed 'humour' lines at the
sides of his eyes.
He said: 'Well, Miss Heron, it's nice to see you. Won't you sit down? My name is Forrester.'
I said: 'Thank you,' and sat down. I said: 'I'm glad to know it's nice to see me, Mr. Forrester. I came here because last night, at the Splendide, a Mr. Vazey, who says he's a Secret Service agent, put a proposition up to me. I wanted to know that it was bona fide.'
He smiled. He said: 'You don't sound as if you liked Vazey very much.'
'I didn't,' I said, 'not one little bit.'
'A lot of people feel like that about him,' he went on. 'He's inclined to be tough, but he's quite good. He gets results.' He smiled again delightfully.
'Well, he's got results with me all right,' I said. 'He's practically blackmailed me into working for the Secret Service whether I want to or not.'
He grinned. 'Too bad,' he said.
'There's just one other little point,' I went on. 'If I remember rightly, when I read that paragraph in the Evening News last night about those plans being missing, it said something about the Government having offered two hundred and fifty pounds reward. If I help in retrieving them, don't I get the two hundred and fifty pounds?'
'I'm afraid not,' he said.
'That's not so good,' I went on. 'So I have to work for nothing. In other words, that piece about the two hundred and fifty pounds reward is all nonsense.'
'Oh no,' he said. 'We should have paid that reward if someone had found the plans and brought them in. Naturally, we only pay a reward when we must. You see, we know where those plans are. We know Valtazzi has them.'
I got up. 'It looks as if I'm wasting my time,' I said. 'Anyhow. This will be a lesson to me. I never believed all those funny things I've read in books and seen on the films about the Secret Service. I'll know better next time.'
He got up. He said: 'Tell me something, just how did Vazey get you to do this? He's told me all about it, except for one thing. What had he got on you?'
I shrugged my shoulders. 'Some little incident a long time ago at Juan les Pins,' I said. 'Really, I had nothing to do with it, but I'd find it very difficult to make that plain. You understand?'
He said: 'I understand.'
I said: 'You're quite certain about my not being able to get this two hundred and fifty pounds for helping to get those plans back, Mr. Forrester?'
He said: 'I'm fearfully sorry, but I'm afraid it's not possible. As I told you, we only pay rewards like that when we're forced to.'
'I see,' I said. 'Well, it looks as if I've been taken for a ride this time, doesn't it?'
I picked up my fur. I said good-bye.
I went out of the office. When I was being shown along the corridor, I thought to myself that these Secret Service men were really tough. And very clever. What chance has a simple girl got anyway?
VALTAZZI phoned me at the Splendide the next evening and
turned up half an hour afterwards. I remembered him directly I
saw him. He used to be a croupier in Lisbon. He was a
slim, too-well-dressed man, with quite charming manners.
We had a cocktail and he got down to hard tacks. He said:
'A little bird has told me that you're in rather a spot—that you need money. Well, perhaps I can be of help to you. Possibly you can be of help to me. Let us see.'
I said: 'You're quite right, Mr. Valtazzi. I do need money. I'm willing to do practically anything to get some—anything that's quite nice, I mean.'
He smiled. He said: 'What I want done is awfully nice. All I desire you to do is deliver a packet of confidential documents to a colleague of mine in the country which, for reasons which do not matter, it would be inconvenient for me to deliver personally. In return for the documents, you will be given two thousand pounds. You will bring the two thousand pounds back to me at my flat and I will give you five hundred pounds. How do you like that?'
He sat back in his chair smiling at me amiably. I noticed that the fingers that held his cigarette were trembling a little. It struck me that Valtazzi was scared.
I said: 'What's the funny business, Valtazzi?'
'Nothing very much,' he said. 'Just one of those things.'
I said: 'Now you listen to me. I need some money badly. I want that five hundred pounds and I'll deliver the documents. That's all right. I won't even ask any questions about what they are. By the way, what nationality are you supposed to be in this country?'
He said softly: 'I'm a Swiss.'
'Like hell you are,' I told him. 'Anyhow, never mind. I'll do it. But I think you'd be awfully well advised to let me have two hundred and fifty pounds now—if you have it.'
He showed his teeth in a very pleasant smile. He said: 'My very charming and delightful Miss Heron, why should you think that I walk about with two hundred and fifty pounds in my pocket?'
'For a very excellent reason, Valtazzi,' I told him. 'You're scared. You want to get out of this country as quickly as you can, and if I know anything you're carrying your bank roll with you.'
His smiled disappeared. He said: 'Why should I be scared?'
I smiled. I said: 'I'll tell you. They're wise to you, Valtazzi! The Secret Service are waiting for you. Never mind how I know. I know that you're Italian. I know that you've got the airplane plans that were stolen recently from a Service car. Well, that's all right with me. Quite candidly, the Secret Service in this country have been very tough with me. They've taken me for a ride.'
His eyes brightened. He said: 'Ha! ha! So you're going to sell them out?'
'I'm going to sell them out. And if you like to hand me two hundred and fifty pounds, I'll tell you just how I propose to do it.'
He said: 'You know, Miss Heron, always I have heard how clever and brilliant and courageous you are. You know everything.' He took out his wallet and took out five fifty-pound notes. I could see there was only one fifty-pound note left in the wallet, and I realized that Valtazzi needed money too. He handed me the notes.
'Now, my charming and beautiful lady, perhaps you'll do a little talking,' he said.
'I'll do this much talking, Valtazzi,' I told him. 'This is the idea. They have an idea that you're going to get those plans delivered and sold to your friend in the country. They're waiting for you. But they think you're going to do it in a few days' time. You see the idea?'
He said: 'I don't quite see.'
I said: 'Let's get the job done tonight. Let's take them for a ride.'
He said: 'You'll do it?' His eyes were very bright.
'You bet I'll do it,' I said. 'If I do it tonight I can meet you first thing in the morning, hand over the money, take my additional two hundred and fifty, and you'll have a chance to make a getaway.' I gave him another sweet smile.
'You'd better make up your mind quickly,' I said. 'There's no time to be lost.'
He said: 'My mind's made up. I'm going straight back to my flat. I'll bring those plans in a sealed envelope and hand them over to you in twenty minutes' time. Can you get a hired car?'
'Quite easily,' I told him.
'Very well,' he said. 'You drive down to Woking. You must arrange to get there at nine-thirty. My colleague will be advised that you are arriving at exactly that time. The house is on the main road three-quarters of a mile past the station. It's called Mallowby Lodge. Don't go in by the front door. Go round to the back, across the lawn and through the french windows. My friend will be waiting for you at exactly nine-thirty. Will you time yourself to arrive there at that time exactly?'
'Absolutely,' I said.
He went away. He looked very pleased with himself. Why shouldn't he?
AT half past eight I called through to the Whitehall Office
and spoke to my unpleasant Secret Service friend, Mr. Vazey. Even
his voice sounded tough. I thought it wasn't nearly as pleasant
as that of his chief.
I said: 'Listen carefully, Valtazzi's fallen for it hook, line and sinker. I've got the plans and I'm just leaving to deliver them. I'm going to Mallowby Lodge, three quarters of a mile from Woking Station. I have to be there exactly at nine-thirty, at which time I shall be let in through the french windows facing the lawn at the back of the house.'
He said: 'Fine!' He sounded very satisfied. 'We'll be there,' he went on.
'Just a moment,' I said. 'You don't want to be there too soon. You'll have to give me time to hand the documents over, won't you? The best thing for you to do is to conceal yourself somewhere at the back of the house and give me at least ten minutes to get the talking done. I suggest you come through the french windows at twenty minutes to ten. Then you'll have him with the goods.'
'You're quite right,' he said. 'We should have done that anyway. You be there at nine-thirty sharp and we'll be with you ten minutes after that.' His voice became very sinister. 'And see you go through with this on time. Remember, I can he very unpleasant.'
'About what?' I asked.
'About that business at Juan les Pins,' he said.
I sighed. I said: 'I wish I knew whether you were bluffing or not.'
'I'm not bluffing,' he said. 'You do your stuff and you'll be all right.'
I heard the receiver click back. I liked him less than ever.
IT was nine-thirty when I tapped very softly on the french
windows at the back of the house at Woking. Almost immediately
the windows opened and I slipped through the curtain into the
room. Mr. Wolfgang seemed very pleased to see me.
Then, exactly at twenty minutes to ten, the french windows were burst open and my Secret Service friend, Mr. Vazey, accompanied by two very large gentlemen, interrupted my conversation with my host.
Vazey said: 'Nice work!' He looked at me approvingly. 'You notice we kept to our schedule, Miss Heron, and I'm glad you kept to yours.'
'It's very nice to have your approval, I'm sure,' I said.
I need not say that Mr. Wolfgang was extremely annoyed, but his splutterings were cut short by Vazey, who, after telling him what sounded like a few straight truths in German, had him taken away by the two satellites. Then he stood in front of the fireplace, the large envelope which I had handed over in his hand, looking particularly self-satisfied. He said:
'Well, that's that. We've got the plans and we've got Wolfgang. Now the only thing that remains is for you to take us back to Valtazzi's address and we'll collect him. A very nice little bag.'
I nodded. 'You're doing fearfully well, aren't you?' I said.
He smiled. It was a self-satisfied smile. 'Not too badly,' he said.
He slit the envelope with his thumb; drew out the documents inside. He looked at them for a moment; then he muttered a very rude word under his breath. He said:
'So you've double-crossed us?' He stood glaring at me, the envelope in one hand and some carefully folded copies of the Evening News wrapped up in cartridge-paper in the other.
I said: 'Really, Mr. Vazey, I don't know what you're talking about.'
'Don't you?' he said. He held out the packet towards me. 'Look at this,' he said. 'That's the envelope you brought down here—copies of the Evening News! There's only one explanation to that. You sold us out to Valtazzi. Well, didn't you?'
I said nonchalantly: 'Well, I must admit that I told Valtazzi that the Secret Service was very interested in him, but I wasn't to know that he was going to switch those papers, was I? It looks as if he's been a little too smart for you.'
'It won't do him any good,' he said nastily, 'and it won't do you any good. This makes you an accomplice of Valtazzi's. Where's he living? I expect you've got an appointment to see him tonight.'
I said airily: 'I don't know that I want to discuss this with you. You bore me. Your footling little plans came unstuck, after which, without a moment's hesitation you blame me for everything.'
He said: 'This is going to be very tough for you before it's finished. So I bore you, do I? All right. You're coming back to town with me and you can do some explaining to someone else. Perhaps you won't feel so bored then.'
'That suits me very well,' I said. 'I'm rather particular to whom I do my explaining.'
WHEN we arrived at Whitehall, he took me straight to the
office of his chief.
He said: 'We've been done in the eye, sir, and Miss Heron is behind it. The envelope she took down to Wolfgang contained a few old copies of the Evening News wrapped in some cartridge-paper. Here they are. She's admitted that she discussed this matter with Valtazzi; that she told him that we were after him.'
Mr. Forrester raised his eyebrows. He said: 'You don't really mean to say you told Valtazzi. I can hardly believe you'd do a thing like that.'
I said to him: 'Listen, Mr. Forrester. Someone has to have some sense, and your Mr. Vazey here seems a little deficient. When Valtazzi came to see me he was scared stiff. Directly I saw him I thought it would be very dangerous to wait any length of time before getting him to go through with this deal. He was so frightened he might have done anything. So I conceived it my duty to tell him something that would make him get a move on, and the only thing I could tell him was that he was under observation and that he'd better move quickly. I told him that.'
Forrester said: 'And do you think he believed you? You had no right to do that. You've seen the result. He's still got those plans. He's thrown us off the track and has probably moved his address. It's not going to be easy to find him now.'
'That's as maybe,' I said. 'But I think you ought to know that he hasn't got the plans.'
Forrester raised his rather nice eyebrows. He said: 'What exactly do you mean?'
'I've got them,' I told him. 'I switched the plans over. Valtazzi gave me the real plans all right. I took them out and put those copies of the Evening News in their place. I thought it would be a good idea.'
I heard Vazey say under his breath: 'Well, I'll be damned!'
Forrester said: 'Why did you think it would be a good idea?'
I smiled at him sweetly. 'I was thinking of that two hundred and fifty pounds reward,' I said. 'You remember you told me that you wouldn't pay it unless you must. Well, now you've got to.'
Vazey said: 'Are you going to stand for this?'
Forrester waved him aside. He said: 'Just a minute Vazey. There's no need to be tough.' He turned to me. 'Supposing I give you the reward of two hundred and fifty pounds,' he said. 'That doesn't alter the fact that you've laid yourself open to arrest. This might be a very serious business for you.'
'Not at all,' I said. 'It's not going to be serious for me in the slightest degree, Mr. Forrester. But it's going to be very serious for you if you don't give me that reward, because if you don't I shan't tell you where those plans are, and then you can do what you like.'
He sighed. 'You're a very hard case, aren't you, Miss Heron?' he said. 'Well, if you want it that way I'll make this bargain with you. I give you my word that you shall be paid the two hundred and fifty pounds reward tomorrow morning providing you tell me where those plans are. After we have them in our possession, you will realise that Mr. Vazey here will probably insist that some action be taken against you.'
I smiled sweetly at him. 'What Mr. Vazey insists on doesn't matter one hoot to me,' I said. 'It won't get him anywhere. Do I take it I have your word that I get the two hundred and fifty pounds?'
He nodded. 'I shall arrange that it is paid to you first thing in the morning,' he said. He smiled. 'Incidentally,' he said a little cynically, 'I suppose Valtazzi also gave you something for services rendered?'
'Quite right,' I said brightly. 'He gave me two hundred and fifty pounds.'
Vazey made an angry noise. He said: 'Some girl, isn't she?'
Forrester said: 'It's no good arguing, Vazey. All right, Miss Heron, you're going to get your two hundred and fifty and take what's coming to you afterwards. Now then, where are those plans?'
'They're awfully safe,' I said. 'They're in the custody of His Majesty King George Sixth—or, rather, of His Royal Mail. You see, I forgot to tell you that when I took those plans out of their original envelope and substituted the Evening News for them, I put them into another envelope, sealed it, stamped it, and addressed it to you here at this office, which I consider to be the duty of a patriotic citizen. I wasn't taking any chances of losing those plans.'
Forrester began to grin, I took a sideways look at Vazey. He was looking like death.
'Just what charge you're bringing against me,' I demanded, 'for doing what I consider to be my duty, is a question which I should very much like answered.'
Forrester said: 'You know, Miss Heron, you really are rather bright, aren't you? I take it that those plans will arrive here by first post in the morning.'
'That's right,' I said. 'And I shall be calling round about eleven o'clock for the two hundred and fifty pounds reward.'
He said: 'Do you know, I shall be very glad to pay it to you,' He looked at Vazey. He said: 'It's all right, Vazey. I don't think I need you any more.'
Vazey went out. As he got to the door I gave him a charming smile.
I said: 'Good night, Mr. Vazey.'
He threw me a dirty look and went away.
Forrester said: 'You know, Miss Heron, I think you might be very useful to us.'
'I thought that, too, Mr. Forrester,' I told him. 'I thought possibly you might be able to find me a job.'
'I think we shall be able to do that,' he said. 'Candidly, I rather admire the way you've handled this business. You've done pretty well financially out of it, too. You've got two hundred and fifty from Valtazzi and two hundred and fifty which you will get from me. That's not too bad.'
'I don't think it was either,' I said. 'By the way, you might like to know that Valtazzi is expecting me at his flat and that if you send the bad-tempered Mr. Vazey round he'd probably get him.'
He grinned. 'Good girl,' he said.
He picked up the telephone and gave some instructions. Then he said: 'I think you and I ought to lunch tomorrow and talk things over. I'll pick you up at one o'clock.'
'Could you make it the day after? I've got quite a few clothes coupons, and I'd like to buy some clothes. I think a little shopping tomorrow would put me in the right frame of mind for lunch with you the day after.'
He said: 'All right. But I'll see you in the morning, when you come for that two hundred and fifty pounds. I suppose you're going to make a hole in that five hundred.'
'Something like that,' I said. At the doorway I stopped and smiled sweetly.
'It isn't five hundred,' I said. 'Its two thousand five hundred. You see, I got the two thousand from Wolfgang before I consented to hand over the package. That's why I asked Mr. Vazey to arrive ten minutes after I did.'
He said: 'Well, I'll be damned!'
'You will be if you aren't more careful in the future,' I told him. 'What you want is a really sensible woman round here to advise you. Au revoir, Mr. Forrester.'
I DON'T know whether you believe in feminine intuition, my pets, but whether you do or you don't does not alter the fact that there comes a time in a girl's life when she definitely feels certain about one thing and that is she is looking really rather nice, very well-dressed and altogether on top of the world. I expect most of you have felt like that at some time of other, and if you haven't you ought to see someone about it because life isn't giving you the right sort of tumble. Do you get me?
What I'm trying to tell you is that my intuition at the moment under consideration, told me that I'd never look any better than I did then. Figure to yourselves, mes enfants; I was wearing a brown cord velvet coat and skirt, under a beaver coat, beige stockings, rather well-cut brown court shoes, a smart little beaver hat to match the coat and a duck-egg blue georgette blouse that was definitely pre-war and so precious to me that I felt I ought to keep it in a safe deposit.
Sitting back in the corner of a very comfortable back seat of the Daimler limousine that had met me at Sellington Station, I came to the conclusion that this was really the most interesting job I'd had since I'd been bluffed into working for the Secret Service by the not-so-nice Mr. Vazey.
I opened my handbag and took out the letter of instructions that I'd been handed that morning, it read:
You will please take the eleven o'clock train today from Euston for Sellington. You will be met at that station by a Daimler car and driven to Tulse Hall which is about six miles from the station. You are supposed to be Miss Janet Fleur, a friend of the sister of the owner of Tulse Hall (a Major Fells) whom you have not previously met but who knows all about this business. The idea is that you are going there to spend a few days at his invitation. You will find half a dozen other guests there.
The situation with which you have to deal is as follows: Last Saturday a military officer of high rank left some important documents in a brown leather attaché case in his car outside Sellington Station. Before entering the station he locked the car. There was no one but this officer, and the two porters on duty, on the station platform. A few minutes afterwards the three-thirty train from London arrived and disgorged six people—all of whom were guests on their way to Tulse Hall—who went through the barrier.
There was a slight fog at the time and so when one of the porters on duty outside the station saw someone open the car door and take out the brown leather bag he naturally thought it was the officer who had been driving the car. It was not. The officer was still on the platform.
My operatives have checked very carefully on the situation and it is quite obvious to us that the documents in the brown leather case—documents of the greatest value to the war effort—were stolen by one of the people who were en route for Tulse Hall. As none of these people has left the Hall since, he or she and the documents are still there, believing, I imagine, that the coup has been successful.
It is essential that the loss of the documents should not be made public, and your business is to find out (perhaps your womanly intuition will help!) which of these people has the documents, to get them back, and secure the arrest of the thief, who is quite obviously in the pay of the enemy.
Chief-Inspector Vayle at Nunning Police Station has instructions to give you any police assistance you may require (telephone number Nunning 42) and—although you may not be too happy about this—Mr. Vazey will be staying at the Rockley Arms in Tulse village. He will keep an eye on things generally and advise you if you want advice.
My best wishes. I hope you feel as well as you looked when I saw you last. And take care of yourself!
Yours ever,
Hubert Forrester.
P.S.—Destroy this, please, when read. H.F.
I read the letter through once again, lit the corner of it
with my lighter and dropped the ashes out of the window. This, I
thought, is going to be really exciting, in spite of the fact
that my bête noire—Vazey—was going to be
hanging about the place sticking his long nose into everything!
Still ... I suppose that Mr. Forrester thought that there ought
to be some sort of a man around. I've told you before, of
course, that Mr. Forrester is really rather a sweet and
definitely my cup of tea—that is, if I ever thought about
'cups of tea' seriously ... if you know what I mean ...
It suddenly occurred to me that I seemed to be spending quite a little of my time thinking about Mr. Forrester, but in any event my ruminations on this subject were brought to an end by our arrival at Tulse Hall. The Hall—an old-fashioned manor house set back in its own grounds at the end of a carriage drive presented a romantic picture. This, I thought, is going to be in the setting of your latest adventure, little Julia, and I hope it's going to be as successful, or as lucky, as the others have been.
My host, Major Fells, met me at the top of the stone steps. He whispered: 'I'm very glad to see you, Miss Heron. Although from now on you're going to be Miss Fleur. And I wish you the best of luck.'
I said: 'Thank you very much, Major. I suppose you haven't the faintest idea...?'
He shrugged his shoulders. 'I haven't the remotest idea,' he said. 'I don't know these people very well, but I know something about each of them. I've been puzzling my brains to try and come to a conclusion, but I can't do it. You'll have to use that feminine intuition of yours.' He led the way into the Hall.
Upstairs in my room I began to think about this intuition business. Everybody seemed to be talking to me about my intuition. I hoped I had some. And I hoped it was going to work.
AT eight o'clock, when the first gong went, wearing my most
attractive black dinner frock, I went down to the lounge. The
guests were all gathered there and over a cocktail I had the
chance of inspecting them. Besides my host and myself there were
four women and two men. They looked very nice—very
innocent. Looking from one to the other I wondered which of these
people had had the nerve and brain to get away with this
business, but I could find no answer. In any event, I thought,
whichever one of them it was, must have known something about the
neighbourhood; must have known that the officer was in the habit
of arriving to meet that Saturday train and having the document
case in his care. It occurred to me that it might be a good idea
to try and find out which of these people had been to the village
before or knew the country. That might narrow it down.
I smiled to myself. As my intuition was not doing so well I would endeavour to solve the problem by logic—the male method. So, after dinner, in the privacy of my room, I made a list of the six suspects:
(1) Mrs. Vandeler—about forty-five years of age, plump and charming; a characteristic type of English matron. I wondered if she could be a spy. I didn't think so.
(2) Mr. Charleston—about thirty-five years of age, well set up, with a rather fierce moustache. I thought he was rather nice. I couldn't find it in my heart to suspect him.
(3) Miss Glynn—a rather ascetic-looking spinster of an unknown age. During dinner she had regarded me with vague disapproval. She didn't look as if she could steal anything, but one never knows.
(4) Mr. Farrell. Everybody called him Jack. About forty—with a merry twinkle in his eye. I caught him looking sideways at me on two or three occasions during dinner. He looked very clever and apparently knows this part of the world.
(5) Miss Vavasour—a very good-looking young woman of about twenty-eight, so good-looking that I found myself becoming a little jealous of her. Has wonderful clothes and knows how to wear them. I thought Miss Vavasour might easily be a spy. She might easily be a thief. Or was I merely being jealous? Even intuition can slip up sometimes!
(6) Mrs. Phelps—a lady of rather uncertain age—anything between forty-five and fifty-five; obviously very fond of her food, and I think rather lazy. Somehow I didn't feel that she could summon up enough energy to do any serious stealing.
I read through my list, but it didn't do me any good. It
wasn't getting anywhere. Perhaps I wasn't as clever as Mr.
Forrester thought. The intuition wasn't even trying to work.
I began to think of Mr. Vazey. I could imagine the sarcastic smile that would appear on his face when he was told that I'd slipped on the job, that is if I was going to slip up.
I came to the conclusion that thinking was going to get nowhere at all. So I went to bed and slept the sleep of the innocent.
THE next morning was quite lovely. Looking round the breakfast
table, I felt a little happier. I felt that sooner or later one
of the six would have to give himself or herself away. I was
continuing with this line of thought when the butler came in and
told me that a Mr. Blake wanted me on the telephone. I didn't
know a Mr. Blake, but I had a pretty good idea who it was going
to be.
I looked round the hall before answering the 'phone. I was alone. The place was quite deserted. I said: 'Hello!'
A voice which I immediately recognised as Mr. Vazey's said: 'Is that Miss Fleur?'
I said: 'Yes, it is. How do you do? I thought I should be hearing from you.'
He said: 'I rang up to find out if you've discovered anything. Perhaps it's not so easy as you thought it was going to be. Perhaps the intuition isn't working as well as Mr. Forrester thought.'
'Its nice of you to be so sarcastic,' I said, 'but you know, intuition doesn't work to order.'
He said: 'I see. So you think it's going to work?'
I said casually: 'I haven't the slightest doubt.'
He said: 'Very well. As you know, I'm staying in the village. Possibly the intuition may have worked by this afternoon. In any event perhaps you might meet me under the second oak tree on the small dirt road that leads towards Marshley. I'll be waiting there for you at seven o'clock.'
'Very well,' I said. 'I'll be there.'
He said: 'And I hope you have something to report.'
I said brightly: 'I hope so too. If not, it's going to be too bad, isn't it?' I hung up before he had a chance to say anything else.
Definitely, as I have told you before, my pets, I do not like Mr. Vazey.
AFTER lunch I went for a walk in the flower garden. I thought
I'd really give the intuition a chance. I just meandered about
and smoked a cigarette and wondered about the six guests at Tulse
Hall, one of whom was an enemy agent. But which one? At my
present rate of progress no one would ever know! Definitely,
something had to be done.
I began to think about the four women—Mrs. Vandeler, Miss Glynn, Miss Vavasour and Mrs. Phelps. Of those four people, if one was the thief, I thought it would probably be Miss Vavasour. But, mes enfants, I must confess that I suspected that it was probably a little jealousy and not intuition that guided my ideas in this direction.
I wondered which of these four ladies—supposing one of them had stolen the document case—had sufficient brains, nerve and courage to get away with it. She would have to be a clever woman—a woman who could make up her mind quickly and act quickly. A woman who could keep her mouth shut....
Suddenly I had an idea. Which of these people, if any, couldn't keep their mouths shut? That wasn't too difficult. I thought I knew the answer to that one. Mrs. Vandeler was definitely a chatterbox and so was Miss Glynn. It hadn't taken me very long to realise that. Very well then, supposing...!
I threw my cigarette-end away and walked quickly back towards the house. I'd made up my mind. I was going to take a chance. If it came off all well and good, but if it didn't! Phew.... I wonder what Mr. Vazey would have to say about it.
AT three o'clock I ran Mrs. Vandeler to earth in the drawing
room. She was sitting in front of the fire knitting a sock that
looked as if it was intended for an elephant.
I looked over my shoulder in a conspiratorial manner and then sat down beside her.
I said: 'Listen, Mrs. Vandeler. Directly I met you I realised that you were a most patriotic type of Englishwoman. I feel I can confide in you. I must begin by telling you that I am a Secret Service agent!'
Mrs. Vandeler dropped the sock in the grate and very nearly fainted with surprise. When she had recovered from the shock she registered intense interest and almost trembled with joy at being let into the great secret.
I told her the whole story. I entreated her to assist me. I said I couldn't get on without her. Thrilled to the marrow, she promised to do anything short of murder to bring the enemy to book.
'The thief is one of the six guests here, Mrs. Vandeler,' I said. 'Obviously it isn't you, so that leaves five. I'm quite certain that it isn't Mr. Charleston or Mr. Farrell, so I want you to tell those two about it in the strictest confidence. I will deal with the other three. Will you do that?'
Mrs. Vandeler promised. I knew that immediately I left her she would dash off and tell the story—probably with some dramatic additions—to the Charleston and Farrell birds.
She said: 'Miss Fleur, I've always wanted to help catch a spy. I think this is marvellous!'
I told her I thought so too. Then I went off and searched around the place until I found Miss Glynn. I caught her in the act of replacing a bottle of Kummel on the sideboard in the dining-room. I'd noticed she was very fond of Kummel.
I said: 'Hist... Miss Glynn!' and took her into a corner. Then I told her exactly the same tale as I'd told the Vandeler, except that I said I didn't suspect Miss Vavasour or Mrs. Phelps, and that she could tell them. She promised she would—after she'd recovered from the shock.
I went to my room and smoked a cigarette. If I knew anything of Mrs. Vandeler and Miss Glynn the atmosphere of Tulse Hall would be positively reeking of suspicion within a few hours.
Which was precisely what I wanted.
AT six-forty-five I went off to meet Mr. Vazey. It was quite a
nice evening and I tripped along, carrying the brown document
case that I had borrowed from Major Fells, as if I hadn't a care
in the world.
Mr. Vazey was standing under his oak tree looking glum. I said: 'Good evening, Mr. Vazey. It seems that you and I are always meeting under trees. One day, perhaps, we'll meet somewhere where it's really interesting.'
He said: 'I don't think this is a time for joking, Miss Heron. Have you anything to report?'
'Oh yes,' I said brightly. 'I know the culprit—at least I shall know at eight-thirty tonight. That's why I want you to be there.'
He brightened a little bit. 'Well... I hope you're right,' he said. 'I hope you haven't made a mess of this and got the wrong person.'
'That's nice of you,' I said. 'Incidentally, I haven't been too unsuccessful on previous occasions, have I?'
He relapsed into gloom again. 'That was possibly luck,' he said. 'And exactly what is going to happen at eight-thirty at Tulse Hall?'
'I shall have the thief all ready for you,' I said. 'And you can carry on from there. Now... if you haven't anything else to say I'll be on my way. I've a lot to do. And I shall see you at eight-thirty?'
'I'll be there,' he said. Then he thought of something. 'By the way, Miss Heron,' he went on, 'I hope you haven't relied entirely on your intuition in this business?' He grinned at me sarcastically.
'Don't worry about my intuition, Mr. Vazey,' I said. 'It's not too bad. And will you do something for me? I've been carrying this case with my library books in it all the afternoon. I'm so tired. Will you take it and bring it along tonight? I'd be so grateful.'
He said yes and took the case. I said goodbye in my most cheerful voice and went as quickly as I could. I didn't want him to ask any questions!
I dashed madly back to the Hall and telephoned Chief-Inspector Vayle at Nunning Police Station. I said my little piece to him—I'd rehearsed it all carefully on my way back —and he promised to come along at eight-fifteen.
Then I breathed a sigh of relief and went to my room to dress for dinner. I put on my nicest frock, my most sophisticated air; but as I went downstairs, I wondered rather breathlessly just what would happen if my plot didn't come off.
I gave up wondering. I just daren't think of it!
I'D been at some odd dinner parties in my life, my pets, but I
don't think I've ever known one quite like the gathering at Tulse
Hall that evening at eight o'clock. Quite obviously, Mrs.
Vandeler and Miss Glynn had done their stuff good and plenty and
you could have cut the atmosphere with a knife. It was definitely
thick. Everybody was looking at everyone with eyes that
positively bulged with suspicion.
At a quarter past eight, Chief-Inspector Vayle was shown in. I took a deep breath, stood up and said my piece.
'Ladies and gentlemen,' I said cheerfully, 'I believe you all know that some important documents were stolen from a car on the day you arrived here. It was believed that the document case was stolen by a member of this house party. But I am terribly glad to tell you that that idea was entirely incorrect. The document case was stolen by a complete stranger. Someone who had evidently come down here especially for the purpose—an enemy agent.
'This man—you will be glad to know—will be coming here shortly. He is entirely unaware that he is suspected. He will be bringing the document case with him because he intends to leave the neighbourhood tonight. Needless to say, he will be arrested, and Chief-Inspector Vayle is here for that purpose.'
A sigh of relief went up from the assembled company. I caught Major Fells' eye and he gave an almost imperceptible wink.
Then the door opened and the butler came in. 'There is a gentleman named Mr. Vazey in the hall,' he told our host, 'He wishes particularly to see Miss Fleur.'
'There's your man,' I told the Chief-Inspector. 'I expect he'll try and wriggle out of it. But don't stand any nonsense. He'll probably say he's working for the Secret Service.'
He grinned. 'Don't worry, Miss,' he said. 'I've two men outside and a car. We've got a nice cool cell all ready for him at Nunning Police Station. We'll keep him there until we get further orders from your people in London.'
'That's marvellous, Chief-Inspector,' I said. 'There's just one other thing. You might take the document case he has, that is, the one that was stolen. Perhaps you'll get it at once and give it to me now—before you take him away.'
He said he would. A few minutes later I could hear the noise of an altercation in the hall. I felt almost sorry for poor Mr. Vazey. Then, the Chief-Inspector came back with the document-case.
'He's tried all sorts of nonsense,' he said. 'He tried to tell us he was a Secret Service man working with you. He's got his nerve all right! Anyhow he's safe enough now. We've put the handcuffs on him and in half an hour he'll be in a cell.'
I said: 'Thank you very much.' I looked very cheerful but I was wondering exactly what Mr. Vazey would have to say to me the next time he saw me!
When the police had gone I handed the document case to the butler. 'Please hang that up in the hall cloakroom, Soames,' I said. 'It's locked and it will be quite safe there.'
Major Fells took his cue. 'Don't you think I ought to put it in the safe?' he asked.
'Why?' I demanded. 'It'll be just as safe in the cloakroom and I shall be able to get it early in the morning without disturbing you. Just hang it up on a hook, Soames. It won't run away.'
The butler went off and everyone began to chatter at the top of their voices. They'd certainly had an interesting evening!
OUTSIDE in the hall the grandfather clock struck three. Major
Fells and I sat on the floor in the corner of the hall cloakroom
in the darkness. I felt rather cold and slightly dubious. I was
beginning to realise how very foolish I should look if my plot
didn't come off.
Just as I'd come to the conclusion that it wasn't going to come off I heard a very quiet footstep in the hall. We sat there tensely in the darkness. The footsteps came near. The cloakroom door opened—and Major Fells switched on the electric light.
Standing in the doorway—a brown document case in her hand—was the beautiful Miss Vavasour. I gave her my most charming smile.
'So, Miss Vavasour, it was you,' I said. 'Thank you for walking into the little trap I set for you.'
She called me a very rude name.
'You just had to fall for it, didn't you?' I went on. 'You thought we'd suspected the wrong person. You thought I was a fool not even to open the document case when the Chief-Inspector brought it in tonight. You probably thought I was an even greater fool to have hung it up here in the cloakroom. But all that made it very easy for you, didn't it? All you had to do was to bring the document case—with the real documents inside—and change it over with the one hanging up on the wall. Then you'd have been able to make your getaway with the copies of the documents which I have no doubt we shall find in your bedroom. You'd have been cleared of all suspicion.'
Her hand moved towards the pocket of her dressing-gown, but Major Fells caught it before it got there.
'No you don't,' he said. He took the small automatic pistol out of her pocket. He said: 'I think I'll put this young woman somewhere where she'll be safe. We'll keep her under lock and key until the police get here.'
He took Miss Vavasour away.
I sat in the cloakroom with the precious document case in my hand. I felt rather pleased with myself. At least I felt very pleased with myself until I remembered that my next job would be to ring Nunning Police Station and tell them to let the unfortunate Mr. Vazey out. I wondered what he would say. I imagined it would be rather lurid.
I went to the telephone in the hall but on my way I changed my mind. I thought I wouldn't ring the police. I'd ring Mr. Forrester, tell him the whole story; tell him that I had the documents safely, and the thief, and let him ring the police station and get Mr. Vazey released.
That, I thought, would be a good idea.
And anyway, the intuition seemed to have worked after all!
I SAT in the Palm Court at the Hotel Splendide and waited—I must say rather impatiently—for Mr. Forrester to turn up.
Mr. Forrester is the head of the Secret Service Department for which I have been working for the last six months, and is a rather attractive man—tall and slim, with an interesting face and hair that's just beginning to go a little grey at the temples—you know the type—one with very good manners and who looks at you rather as if you were something made of china and could break very easily.
Except I happen to know that Mr. Forrester can be very tough if necessary!
I was beginning to wonder what it was all about when he appeared. He came straight into the lounge, looked round, saw me and came over to my table, which was situated artistically under a large palm. Needless to say I had selected the table because the palm was there—it provided a very attractive background for the frock I was wearing!
I said: 'Good afternoon, Mr. Forrester. Sit down and have some tea. You must be very cold after your journey.'
When he had drunk his tea he gave me a cigarette; lit one for himself. Then he said:
'Miss Heron, I need not tell you that the Department is very pleased with the way you're doing your job. In point of fact we are beginning to regard you as rather a brilliant person. That is why we are putting you on to the assignment I'm now giving you—one which, whilst it will not be as dangerous as previous ones, will still require brains.'
I said: 'Thank you kindly, Mr. Forrester. I'm glad the Department thinks I have brains.'
He looked over his shoulder to make certain that no one was within ear-shot; then he went on: 'Miss Heron, some twenty-five miles away is a small village on the coast called Merling—a rather attractive place. The point is, however, that there is a cottage on the cliffs—Mayfly Cottage—and signalling has been observed to be taking place at this cottage. No one can find out who is responsible and the matter is made all the more difficult because, as far as we can discover, the cottage is empty. That, in effect, is the situation.'
I said: 'I see, Mr. Forrester. And the idea is that I go to this place and try to find out who is doing the signalling?'
He said: 'Yes. I thought you might go there as a London girl who's had a very tough time doing war work of some sort, and who has been sent down there for a rest. That would be a good background for you. Take some attractive clothes. Take life easily, amuse yourself and keep your eyes open. I'm perfectly certain that if anybody can succeed in this job it will be you.'
I said: 'That's very kind of you, Mr. Forrester. Am I to have any assistance from Mr. Vazey?'
He said: 'You're not very fond of Mr. Vazey, are you?'
'Well... I'm not exactly in love with him,' I replied. 'When he looks at me he always gives me the impression that I'm redundant and wearing the wrong shade of lipstick. I feel he doesn't approve of lipstick either.'
'Perhaps he's a little jealous of it,' he said. 'I feel like that myself sometimes! However, Vazey is really a first-class operative. And I expect you'll find him down there. You may need his assistance.'
I said: 'I probably shan't need it. But I expect I'll have to have it anyhow. I can't visualise Mr. Vazey keeping his long nose out of anything. When do I start, Mr. Forrester?'
'There's no time like the present, Miss Heron,' he said. He looked at his watch. 'There's a train that goes in an hour and a half. That just gives us time to have a cocktail together and drink to your success.'
I MUST say that I went for Merling in a big way. It was a
small and charming south-coast place—well sheltered from
the wind by the hills around it and not very much larger than a
village. There were not a great many signs of war about the
place, mainly because there were no airfields or naval or
military stations in the neighbourhood.
But the hotel was comfortable and the people quite nice. After I'd been there for a day I felt rather pleased with myself. I was in the mood for adventures and as my clothes—especially my dinner-frocks—had created a mild sensation, I felt rather happy about things—you know the feeling. Also there was a young naval officer staying at the hotel....
And on the third day, in the evening, after dinner, it happened. I was sitting in the lounge pensively smoking a cigarette and drinking my after-dinner coffee when it happened. He—the young naval officer that is—came straight over to me and said:
'Miss Heron, I think you and I ought to know each other. My name is Staynes—Lieutenant Hugo Staynes, R.N.—and very much at your service.'
'That's very nice of you, Mr. Staynes, 'I said. 'And I'm very fond of the Royal Navy. At the same time I'd like to know just why we ought to know each other!'
He looked at me with the most delightful grin.
'Because you're the prettiest girl I've seen for a long time,' he said. 'That's the first reason. The second reason is that I think you're frightfully attractive, and the third reason is that I want to have a little quiet talk with you. D'you think we might slip out casually—rather as if we'd known each other for some time—and go for a small walk round the garden?'
I hesitated for a moment, and then my instinct said: 'Yes, Julia, definitely yes! There's something behind this camouflage.' So I said: 'Yes, thank you very much, I'd like to,' and got a wrap and we went out.
It was quite a nice evening. Not too cold; there was a moon and the gravel paths and shrubs in the big hotel garden looked delightful in the moonlight.
We walked for a few minutes and then the Lieutenant gave me a long sideways look. He was smiling—he had the most attractive smile—and he said: 'Tell me something, Miss Heron.'
'What do you want to know?' I asked.
'Exactly what are you doing down here?' he said. 'I've been watching you. I don't fall—not for one little minute—for this overworked London society girl stuff that they say about you in the Hotel. Or is it true?'
'Why not?' I asked. But I thought: Julia, you'd better play for time. This all sounds a little odd. But, mes enfants, I was very intrigued.
He said: 'You don't look to me like an overworked society girl. You look like a very well-poised young woman with a great deal of common-sense.' He paused for a moment and then said, almost casually: 'You wouldn't be down here about a little matter of signalling to the enemy at night... would you?'
I raised my eyebrows in astonishment. 'Really, Mr. Staynes,' I said. 'I never heard of such a thing!'
'Forget it,' he said. 'But I thought I'd mention it. You see, there has been a certain amount of signalling out to sea at night from Mayfly Cottage—the place at the cliff end. That's why I'm here on leave. You see, Mayfly Cottage belongs to me and naturally the Naval authorities are rather interested. So am I. Do you see?'
'I see,' I said. 'But I really don't see what it has to do with me. Why should it?'
'You never know,' he said. He smiled at me again. I did tell you it was a delightful smile, didn't I?—and went on: 'You know, you don't sort of fit in with this place. There's something about you... an air... something I cannot quite describe....'
I said: 'Really, sir. I hope it's something nice!'
'And how!' he said. 'But definitely very nice. Rather mysterious though. I thought perhaps you might be down here snooping about the place for one of the Service Departments. I know they often employ very beautiful, very clever, women—women like you.'
'I never heard of such a thing in my life,' I said. 'And if there's signalling going on from your cottage you ought to be on the look-out for it instead of flattering me and suggesting I'm all sorts of mysterious things.'
He said: 'Perhaps you're right. But it's funny, whenever I do keep watch, nothing happens. However—if you can find your way back alone—I'll go along there now.'
'Please do,' I said. 'The mysterious signaller may be doing his worst at this very moment. That is, if you haven't made up the whole story merely as a means of introduction.'
'Honestly,' he said, 'I haven't. Although'—and he grinned—'I would have if necessary. You see, I just had to get to know you. Please be in the lounge when I get back to the hotel.'
'I'll promise nothing,' I said. 'But I'll consider it.'
HE went off, and I turned and began to walk back along the
main garden path towards the hotel. Half way there, just as I was
passing a clump of trees, a mysterious voice hissed:
'Miss Heron... just a moment, please.'
My heart almost stopped beating. I spun round and there standing underneath one of the trees, in the shadow, was my most unfavourite person, Mr. Vazey.
I said: 'Really, Mr. Vazey, you frightened me. Every nerve in my body absolutely jumped when you hissed at me.'
He said solemnly: 'That's probably due to too many cocktails, Miss Heron. Incidentally, may I ask just what is going on between you and Lieutenant Staynes?'
'Nothing at all,' I said. 'Merely a little after-dinner conversation. Is there any law against that, Mr. Vazey?'
'So far as you're concerned, yes, Miss Heron, there is, although perhaps in one way it isn't a bad thing that you've made the acquaintance of Lieutenant Staynes.' His voice was rather sarcastic.
I said: 'Please! Mr. Vazey, exactly what is on your mind?'
He said: 'If you'll come into the shadow of the bushes, Miss Heron, I'll tell you. I don't want to be seen talking to you.'
We stood behind a large rhododendron bush. He said: 'Perhaps you'd like to tell me what Lieutenant. Staynes was talking to you about. Was it something very interesting?'
'As a matter of fact, Mr. Vazey,' I said, 'it was rather odd. He began to talk to me about this signalling that's going on, and I wondered how he knew anything about it. And then he asked me if by any chance I was employed by one of the Service Departments down here to try and find out. Naturally I became a little suspicious.'
'I see,' he said grimly, 'And what happened then?'
'I denied having anything to do with any Service organisation,' I went on. 'And he told me he was very interested because the cottage from which the signalling had taken place belonged to him; that he was down here on leave trying to find out what was going on. I had an idea that he was worried about it.'
Mr. Vazey said: 'I bet he is. Listen to me, Miss Heron. It might interest you to know that I suspect Lieutenant Staynes. In point of fact I don't think he's Lieutenant Staynes at all. I think he's a German agent.'
'Good heavens!' I said.
He went on: 'This Staynes person is a mystery, but I've succeeded in making the acquaintance of a very charming girl to whom he is engaged—a delightful girl. She lives in a cottage on the cliff walk—Thistle Cottage. She's not feeling too good about him.'
'This is all very mysterious,' I said. 'What does she think?'
He shrugged his shoulders. 'She's very unhappy. She doesn't know what to think; but she's noticed one thing. Very often he makes appointments to meet her in the garden at Mayfly Cottage in the evening. When she arrives he's invariably there and it is on these nights that signalling has taken place. Naturally, she's very worried about it. So would you be if you suspected the man to whom you were engaged of being in the employ of the enemy. But the fact remains that this signalling does take place on the nights that he meets her there, and she thinks—'
'Exactly what does she think, Mr. Vazey?' I asked.
'She thinks he is merely using her as a blind to cover up this signalling business. In other words she doesn't believe that Staynes is in love with her at all. She's come to the conclusion that he's merely using her as a stooge—as an excuse to be down here; that he makes these appointments to meet her, gets to the cottage first, does his signalling and gets it over by the time she arrives or after she has gone. That's what she thinks.'
I said: 'It doesn't sound very good, does it?'
He said: 'No, it doesn't, but I've an idea, Miss Heron. We must act quickly. I would like you to go to Thistle Cottage now, and take care that Staynes doesn't see you there. You'll find Miss Lanning there. I told her I was sending you along to see her. Listen to what she's got to say. Possibly an idea may come to you.'
I said: 'An idea has come to me already. If you suspect Mr. Staynes surely it would be a very good thing for her to inform us in advance of the next appointment she has to meet him at the cottage. Possibly you might have somebody concealed—somebody who could check up on this signalling. If he were caught in the act all you'd have to do would he to arrest him. Isn't that right?'
He said: 'It's quite a good idea. Anyway, you go along and see Miss Lanning. Talk it over with her; make some sort of arrangement on the lines you've just mentioned. Let me know. If you want me urgently I shall be at the hotel.'
'All right, Mr. Vazey,' I said. 'I'll do exactly as you say. By the way, you know that Staynes is staying at the hotel. What is my attitude to him to be?'
He looked at me a little cynically. He said: 'I should maintain the attitude you've already adopted, Miss Heron. I think it would be the safest thing to do. You two seem to be getting on very well together, and we certainly don't want him to suspect anything at this moment.'
I said primly: 'Very well, Mr. Vazey, I'll do as you say. I'll be as charming as I can.'
He said: 'Yes, that's all right. But remember there's no need to be too charming.' He disappeared into the darkness.
IT took me fifteen minutes to walk to Thistle Cottage. On the
way I pondered on what Mr. Vazey had told me. And I must say I
began to feel rather suspicious of Lieutenant Hugo Staynes, R.N.
After all, his story did creak a little bit. And why
should he think that I was down at Merling for the purpose
of investigating the mysterious signalling?
Thistle Cottage was a delightful little place, standing by itself at the end of the cliff walk. I rang the bell and waited patiently—wondering what Sylvia Lanning was going to look like.
My curiosity was soon satisfied. As she opened the cottage door she said: 'Oh... Miss Heron... I'm so glad you've come. Mr. Vazey said you might. I do want to talk to you. Please come in.'
I felt very sorry for her. She looked tired and her eyes were red. She looked as if she'd been doing quite a lot of crying. I began to dislike Mr. Hugo Staynes more than ever.
She was petite and blonde and very pretty. The sort of girl that most men would want to protect and, I thought, the sort that isn't particularly overburdened with brains. It flashed through my mind that if the Staynes person was a wrong 'un—and Mr. Vazey seemed fairly certain on that point—this was exactly the type of girl he would choose for a 'stooge.'
She said: 'I've been lying down. I've had the most appalling headache. I've some tea in my bedroom... will you have some?'
I said thank you and followed her into a most delightful bedroom done in pale blue and white—the blue matching the charming kimono she was wearing. She poured tea for us and gave me a cigarette. Watching her I began to feel even more sorry about her.
I said: 'This is a most unfortunate business, Miss Lanning, but perhaps it will all come out right in the end.'
She shook her head. She said: 'I wish I could believe that. But I can't. Since I've talked with Mr. Vazey I just can't believe it...'
'Then you really believe that your fiancé—Mr. Staynes is responsible for this signalling?' I asked. 'That means that he must be an enemy agent—doesn't it?'
She shrugged her shoulders. 'It's all too odd,' she said. 'I only met him here a fortnight ago—he seemed terribly attracted to me and I thought he was wonderful. Of course, I never suspected anything at first. Then I heard about the signalling from Mayfly Cottage, and he told me that he was very keen to solve the mystery. Whenever we met it was always at the cottage. Now I discover from Mr. Vazey that the signalling has always taken place on the nights that I've met him there. Either before our appointment or afterwards. I can only think that he's been using me as a sort of blind—a cover—for what's he's been doing, I believe now that everything he said to me about being in love was all fake. He was just making use of me....'
Two large tears ran down her cheeks.
I said: 'Never mind... there are just as good fish in the sea... aren't there? And if you really believe all that then perhaps you can help us to find out—'
A telephone began to ring outside in the hall. She said: 'Oh dear... I feel that is he! What shall I do? What am I to say?'
'Just behave normally, my dear,' I said. 'Don't let him suspect anything. Be cheerful, talk to him. See what he has to say. Come along now, pull yourself together.'
She said: 'Yes... I will. You're terribly kind, Miss Heron.' She went out of the room and I heard her talking on the telephone, controlling her voice carefully; being bright and amusing.
I GOT up and began to walk about the room. I felt very unhappy
about the unfortunate Sylvia. I hoped that Mr. Staynes—or
whatever his name really was—would get what was coming to
him.
I stood in front of the dressing-table looking at her bottles of perfume and lotions and things. Lying there were two rings—one of them obviously an engagement ring; I suppose he had given her that. That would be part of the plan to gain her confidence. I picked the ring up and looked at it carefully. It was a really beautiful diamond and ruby ring and quite valuable.
Then I put it back and stood there thinking—all sorts of things; but mainly about Lieutenant Hugo Staynes, R.N.
She came back into the room. She said: 'He's asked me to meet him tonight—in fifteen minutes' time—at Mayfly Cottage, what shall I do? I didn't know what to say. I told him a kettle was boiling over and asked him to hold on.'
I said quickly: 'Go back and tell him that you will meet him there in twenty minutes' time. Don't worry. Just do that. We'll look after you.'
She said: 'Very well' She went back to the telephone.
When she returned, I said: 'Now don't worry. Get into your frock; hurry off and meet him. Don't let him suspect anything. When you've gone I'll get in touch with Mr. Vazey and we'll keep everything under control. Now off you go and play your part well.' I smiled at her. 'Remember the old proverb,'—I said '"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned." This is where you get your own back!'
She said: 'I'll do just what you say. And I hope they shoot him. I don't think I've ever hated anyone so much in my life!'
I thought to myself... Well... well... it looks as if this is a tough spot for Cupid! I helped her on with her frock.
DIRECTLY she'd gone I went into the hall and telephoned
through to the hotel. I asked for Mr. Vazey. When he came on the
line I said: 'Listen, Mr. Vazey, this is important!'
'Ah,' said Mr. Vazey. 'So you've discovered something? Miss Lanning was able to tell you—'
'Miss Lanning hasn't told me a thing,' I said. 'Except that she is very suspicious of Lieutenant Staynes and that she doesn't like him very much because she thinks he's taken her for a ride. And I must say I agree with her.'
He said: 'I see... so you think Staynes....'
'Please listen, Mr. Vazey,' I said. 'While I was talking to Miss Lanning the telephone bell rang, about fifteen minutes ago. It was Staynes. He was asking her to meet him at Mayfly Cottage. I told her to agree. She's gone to meet him. And you must go there quickly.'
'But what's all the hurry about?' he asked.
'Only this,' I said. 'Staynes asked me earlier this evening if I was down here snooping for one of the Service Departments over this signalling business. Obviously he suspects that someone is wise to what's going on. Quite obviously he'll think that somebody has been questioning Miss Lanning. He'll probably ask her. And he might even try something drastic. I think you ought to go there at once. And you ought to take someone with you—somebody tough.'
'You might be right,' said Mr. Vazey. 'Incidentally, I've got one man watching the side door to the cottage from the cliff top. I'll take my armed driver with me and leave him and the car down the road. He can keep watch there. Then I'll go along to the cottage. In any event it can't do any harm. You'd better come back here to the hotel and wait for me.'
'Very well, Mr. Vazey,' I said. 'I'll see you sometime later. And I wish you luck.' I hung up, lit a cigarette and did a little very quick thinking. Then I went out of the cottage and hurried across the fields in the direction of the road that led to Mayfly Cottage. When I reached it I waited, behind the hedge.
It was getting cold and I stood there shivering a little. I am a great believer in instinct, my pets, that old-fashioned and much-derided woman's instinct! Anyhow, I thought, there's nothing like taking a chance sometimes, and if I was wrong... well, I was wrong and that was that!
Within a minute or two Mr. Vazey's car came along the road. It slowed down, stopped, and the driver parked it on the other side of the road, twenty yards from where I was standing, in the shadow of an oak tree. Mr. Vazey got out, said something to the driver, and hurried off towards the cottage.
I sneaked down the road, behind the hedge, keeping well out of sight, crossed over when I was out of sight of the car, made a wide detour that brought me in front of the car between it and the cottage, and then hurried down the centre of the road. When I arrived at the car I was breathless and excited. At least that's how I hoped I looked.
I said to the driver: 'I'm Miss Heron... Mr. Vazey's assistant. He says that you are to leave the car here and return to the hotel at once. You are to wait for him there. And you are to give me your automatic pistol.'
'Very well, Miss Heron,' he said. 'I know who you are. Mr. Vazey has told me about you. I'll go back at once.'
He gave me the pistol, got out of the car and began to walk down the road. I waited a few minutes—just long enough for him to get out of sight, got into the car, switched on, drove along the road until I found a gate, turned in and bumped and rattled across the fields back to Miss Lanning's cottage. I parked the car out of sight, went into the cottage, sat down in the hall. My heart was really beating hard now and I felt just the tiniest bit scared.
Five minutes passed and I heard steps outside. The door opened and Miss Lanning came in. She had obviously been hurrying.
Her eyes opened wide with surprise. She said: 'Miss Heron! But Mr. Vazey told me you had gone to the hotel. He said...'
'Quite,' I said. 'I know all about that. Mr. Vazey, I take it, has arrested Lieutenant Staynes on suspicion and you were so upset that you just had to return here, hadn't you, so that you could pull yourself together and relax?'
I produced the automatic pistol.
'You're the spy, my dear Fräulein Karla,' I said. 'And you've hurried back here to wait for your accomplice so that the pair of you can make your getaway while poor Mr. Vazey wastes his time cross-examining the unfortunate Lieutenant Staynes at the hotel. It was quite a good idea of yours to suggest to Mr. Staynes that you met at the cottage. Whilst you and he were talking on the ground floor your boy friend used to slip in at the side door—to which you had the key—go upstairs and, after Mr. Staynes had gone, get on with the signalling. You knew the Lieutenant would be suspected and you carefully fostered suspicion against him. Of course, he denied tonight that he was engaged to you. He probably told Mr. Vazey that he suspected you, but who would believe him? Nobody. Not until he had time to prove who he was and what he was doing down here, and by that time you and your boy friend would be far away.'
She said nothing. She just stood there, looking at me like a bad-tempered boa-constrictor. I went to the telephone.
'Now...' I said. 'I'll get through to the hotel and get Mr. Vazey to come along. Just sit down and relax. Don't move and don't make a sound. By the time Mr. Vazey arrives we ought to have your accomplice corralled here too—and very nice too!'
I don't know what it was she said because she said it in German, but believe me, mes enfants, it sounded very rude!
IT was very late, but the moon was still beautiful, and the
hotel gardens looked even more lovely.
Hugo Staynes slipped his arm through mine—which I think was very forward of him. He said:
'Of course, it was terribly clever of you to suspect the Lanning. I'd had my ideas about her for some time but I couldn't prove anything. I was trying all I knew to get something that would pin it on her. But I've got to hand it to her. She was clever, but not clever enough for you. Still... even now I don't see how you were certain it was she. I mean woman's instinct is all very well but....'
I smiled at him. 'It wasn't all woman's instinct,' I said, in what I intended to be a demure tone of voice. 'You see, I had the opportunity of looking at her rings which were lying on the dressing-table, at her cottage.'
He looked at me in surprise. 'Her rings!' he said. 'But I don't see....'
'One of them was engraved on the inside,' I said. 'I saw the words With love to Karla, and unfortunately for her, they were in German. She'd forgotten that!'
He looked at me closely. He said: 'Miss Heron, you've got something in your eye.'
'That,' I said, 'is a very old racket—that "something in your eye" thing. It's just a very old-fashioned excuse for trying to kiss a girl.'
He sighed heavily. He said: 'It looks as if my luck's out, doesn't it? Well... I suppose we ought to go back.'
I nodded. And just at that moment—believe it or not—there was a sudden gust of wind and I did get something in my eye!
Which shows, my pets, that the 'Luck of the Navy' isn't merely a proverb!
NEED I tell you, mes enfants, that life is full of surprises? Unfortunately there are never quite enough of them, and when they do happen there's no sort of guarantee that they're going to be the right sort of surprise. Agreed?
I think it was Confucius—one of those fearfully thoughtful Chinese philosophers—who said that 'you never know what's waiting round the corner.' So far as I am concerned Confucius was one hundred per cent right—and then some!
When, through my chance meeting with the not-so-very-nice Mr. Vazey, I found myself attached, willy-nilly, to the Secret Service, I imagined that life would present a vista of glamorous adventure. Instead of which nothing happened—just nothing at all. Life seemed to consist of trying out new hair styles in front of my mirror and wondering where—without being dragged off to durance vile—I could raise some more clothes coupons!
THEN, one afternoon, the telephone bell rang. It was Mr.
Vazey. Mr. Vazey, as I have already tried to tell you, is one of
those individuals who makes everything—even 'good
morning—sound unutterably grim. The fact that I answered
the telephone in my brightest and most seductive voice had very
little effect on him.
He said: 'Miss Heron, you've had a very long holiday. Now there's a job of work for you to do. Will you please be at the office in Whitehall at three-thirty?
I said: 'Certainly, Mr. Vazey. Am I going to see anybody very interesting?'
He said shortly: 'You'll see Mr. Forrester. There is rather an important job to be done. Personally, I doubt if you're the person to do it.'
I said: 'That's very kind of you, Mr. Vazey. You're so helpful, aren't you? I'll be there.'
I hung up. I was a little thrilled. First of all, I rather like Mr. Forrester, who has charm, who has good humour and who looks at me as if I was something that was really rather delightful; as opposed to the Vazey person who, each time he looks at me, manages to convey the impression that I ought to be shackled to an iron post in the deepest dungeon at the Tower of London.
ANYHOW, at three-thirty promptly, I presented myself at the
office in Whitehall. I was shown into Mr. Forrester's room.
He said: 'Good afternoon. Miss Heron. It's very nice to see you again.'
I said: 'It's very nice to see you, Mr. Forrester, but then I always like meeting you.' I gave Mr. Vazey an arch glance just to show him where he got off.
Mr. Forrester said: 'Miss Heron, I'm going to ask you to do a very important piece of work. It is necessary that there shouldn't be any mistake about it. Listen carefully to what I have to say.
'Somewhere on the coast there is an Air Station; quite near to it a hotel called The Parkside. One of the Squadron Leaders at the Airfield works for this department. He lives at the hotel. It is necessary that some very important aerial photographs be delivered to him. I want you to do it. That's very simple, isn't it?'
I said: 'That sounds simple enough, Mr. Forrester.'
He said: 'Perhaps not quite so simple. As you probably know there are in this country quite a number of enemy agents. We have every reason to believe that they will use any means possible to stop these photographs being delivered to the Squadron Leader and flown by him to their eventual destination. That is why we are asking you to do the job. We think a woman is much less likely to attract attention. You understand?' I said I understood.
He went on: 'It is proposed that you leave London tomorrow by train for Mellington. The train will stop at Colchester for ten minutes. You will be in a first-class carriage in the front part of the train. Mr. Vazey here will be waiting on the platform for the train to arrive, when he will hand you a leather document case containing the photographs, and will give you further instructions. Is that clear?'
I said: 'It's perfectly clear, thank you, Mr. Forrester.'
Vazey said: 'I shall be waiting on the platform, Miss Heron. I shall have a black document case. I shall hand it to you through the window.' He looked at me a little cynically. 'I hope you won't lose it,' he said ominously.
I was annoyed. 'Definitely I shan't, Mr. Vazey,' I told him. 'Certainly not now.'
I went back to my hotel and had tea. This, I thought, was real adventure. I wondered what the Squadron Leader was going to be like. Anyway, I thought, he'd be young. I thought perhaps I might even take a rather attractive dinner gown. Thinking it over I decided to take two. Just in case....
IT was a delightful morning. The August sunshine came through
the window of the railway carriage and made everything look
attractive. I was alone in the compartment and I sat back in the
corner and wondered about the Squadron Leader. Definitely,
I thought, this was to be a romantic episode. I imagined him
as being on the tall side, quite dark—in fact, a rather
gallant and mysterious person. I wondered exactly what he'd
think about me.
I spent so much time thinking about these things that the journey to Colchester passed very quickly. As the train slowed down at the Junction I looked out of the window. Ahead, standing in solitary state at the far end of the platform, was Mr. Vazey. Even from this distance his back looked vaguely disapproving. I wondered why he disliked me so much.
My compartment stopped practically opposite him. I put my head out of the window and said brightly:
'Good morning, Mr. Vazey. I hope you're feeling very well.'
He said: 'Good morning.' He looked me over very carefully from the top of my rather smart tailor-made hat downwards as far as he could see. I felt sure if he had been able to look through the carriage door he would have disapproved of my shoes.
I said: 'Well, shall I get out or shall we talk through the window?'
'We can talk very easily through the window.' He came closer. He said: 'You realise, Miss Heron, that this is very important business—so important that I wonder that Mr. Forrester has been inclined to trust you with it.'
'Oh, dear, you don't think a great deal of me, do you, Mr. Vazey?' I said. 'I wonder if that's because I scored off you in that other little thing we did together.'
He said: 'My reasons don't matter.'
'Oh yes, they do,' I said brightly. 'Reasons matter a lot. Besides, you've got to realise that it's through you that I'm in this Secret Service business. I didn't ask to come into it, you know. You practically forced me into it.'
He said glumly: 'Well, you seem to be enjoying yourself now. But this conversation is redundant. If you don't mind we'll stick to practical details.'
I said: 'This suits me very well. Will you carry on, sir?'
He said: 'Yes, and there's no need to call me sir.'
I said: 'I know. That's why I do it.'
He took no notice of that one. He opened the suitcase that was standing on the platform beside him, took out a leather document case—a big black case with a heavy brass lock on it.
He said: 'Here are the photographs. I need not tell you that they must in no circumstances go out of your possession until such time as you hand them to the Squadron Leader.'
I said: 'You can rely on me for that, Mr. Vazey. By the way, what's the Squadron Leader like? Is he tall and dark and handsome—'
He said acidly: 'Does that matter? This is business, Miss Heron—important business—not the beginning of a romance.'
'That's what you think,' I said. 'But one never knows, you know. One never knows what's waiting round the corner.'
He said: 'One of these fine days you're going to find something waiting round the corner that isn't going to be quite so nice. However, Squadron Leader Robert Farquharson is tall. He is six feet in height, slim, with dark brown hair. He has the sort of moustache which I believe women think is attractive. He has several decorations. He'll be in uniform.'
I said: 'I'll remember all that.'
He said: 'Try to. But in case you don't you'll find it is all written down in the instructions that I'm going to give you in a minute. When you arrive at Mellington, you'll find you'll have a little difficulty in getting to the hotel. That is because the area is restricted. But we've arranged about that, so you needn't worry about it.' He handed me an envelope.
'Here is a letter which certifies that you're going to Mellington to visit a relative who's very ill. That'll get you to the hotel. When you get there you'll find that a suite has already been engaged for you under your own name.' He looked at his watch. 'I imagine you'll arrive some time about five-thirty this afternoon, and I suggest you go to your room; that you don't allow yourself to be seen until seven o'clock, when you might come down to the lounge and wait for the Squadron Leader, who will appear some time between seven and seven-thirty.'
I said: 'How thrilling. Do tell me, Mr. Vazey, am I allowed to have a cocktail while I'm waiting in the lounge?'
'I can't stop you,' he said. 'But I would if I could. If I know you, you'll probably have two.'
I said sweetly: 'How well you do know me, Mr. Vazey.'
He went on: 'You'll have this document case with you. You'll be very careful not to leave it in your bedroom or in the cloakroom or anywhere else. Squadron Leader Farquharson will introduce himself to you. He'll recognise you as his cousin whom he hasn't seen for some eighteen months. The document case will be beside you and when he leaves he will quite naturally pick it up and take it away with him. Do you understand that?'
'Perfectly,' I said. 'It all seems very simple. And what do I do then?'
The porters began to close the doors and the train was just getting ready to pull out.
He said: 'There's no need for us to go on talking about this.' He handed me a small white sealed envelope. 'Here are your full instructions. You'd better read them before you get to the hotel, and when you've read them I should destroy them. With luck you ought to be able to report back to the office either tomorrow or the day after.' The train began to move.
I said: 'I understand everything. Thank you so much, Mr. Vazey.' I threw him a wicked sidelong glance. 'Please think of me kindly!'
It was late afternoon when the train arrived at Mellington. There was a Military Police cordon at the barrier, but when I presented my letter I was allowed to pass.
A QUARTER of an hour later I arrived at the Parkside Hotel. It
was a delightful old-world place, full of atmosphere, oak beams
and smelt vaguely of lavender.
The girl at the reception office welcomed me. She said: 'Your suite is on the first floor, Miss Heron. I hope you'll be comfortable and happy whilst you're here. By the way, you might like to know that there's a small dance on tonight.'
I said: 'Really. What sort of dance? Who dances?'
She said: 'Quite a few of the R.A.F. officers come over from the airfield near here and the band's quite good. Do let me know if there's anything you want.'
I thanked her, went to my room, unpacked and made certain that I had my precious document case. Then I rang for some tea and relaxed. When I'd finished, I thought the time had come when I ought to read my letter of instructions.
Then I received my first shock! I opened my handbag but the small white envelope which Mr. Vazey had handed me on the platform at Colchester was gone!
I sat there utterly dumbfounded, wondering what could have happened to it. Then I remembered. After the train had left Colchester I'd sat down in my empty compartment with the document case in one hand and the envelope in the other. I'd been day-dreaming, wondering what Squadron Leader Robert Farquharson would be like, and I knew what must have happened. I'd just dropped that envelope on the seat and it had slipped down out of sight.
I was fearfully worried. I lit a cigarette and walked up and down the room. It didn't matter about my losing the instructions very much, because luckily for me Mr. Vazey had told me exactly what I had to do. But supposing someone found that envelope!
I remembered Mr. Forrester telling me that there were enemy agents in the country who knew about these pictures. Supposing I'd been watched. Supposing the envelope had been found by one of those people ... I felt terrible. I could visualise the exultant expression on Mr. Vazey's face when he heard about it.
But why should he hear about it? Perhaps the envelope wouldn't be found. If it had slipped down behind the seat in the railway carriage in such a manner that I couldn't see it, probably no one else would. There was only one thing for me to do. I'd just got to carry on and trust to luck. I'd got to forget that I'd lost that envelope.
A notice by the electric light switch told me that dinner was at seven-thirty. So at six o'clock I made a very careful and what I hoped would be a devastating toilette. I wore a very plain but very well-cut black dinner frock and I took an awful lot of trouble with my hair. On my way down to the lounge at seven I gave myself a side-long glance in the tall mirror set in the angle of the stairway. I thought: Well, Julia, you don't look too bad. Then I remembered about that envelope and I didn't feel quite so good.
When I went into the lounge I looked round for Squadron Leader Farquharson, but there wasn't a sign of him. In the corner was a big settee and I arranged myself on it as gracefully as I could, keeping my precious document case close to my side. I ordered a cocktail. I was halfway through it when the door opened and he came in.
He was quite wonderful. Most men in the R.A.F. seem to be good-looking, but really this one was quite unique. Squadron Leader Farquharson was very attractive.
He glanced casually round the lounge until he saw me. Then a smile came over his bronzed face and without a moment's hesitation he came straight over. He stood looking down at me grinning delightfully. He said:
'Well ... well ... well ...! If it isn't little Cousin Julia. This is a surprise. Where have you been hiding all these years?'
'Oh, I've just been doing the usual things, Robert,' I said as casually as I could make it. And as I said it I realised what a delightful name Robert is. It sort of trips off the tongue, don't you think?
He said: 'Well, this has got to be a celebration. Finish that cocktail and have another.'
I said thank you, prettily, and he sat down. Whilst the waiter was bringing the drinks, I pushed the document case a little forward so that he could not fail to see it.
He went on: 'There's a dance tonight. Shall you be here? But possibly you're too serious to think of dancing.' He looked at me. I could see his eyes were twinkling mischievously.
I said demurely: 'On the contrary I'm very fond of dancing. Perhaps, Cousin Robert, if I'm very good, you'll be able to spare me just one dance, that is of course unless your time is too much taken up with your other friends.'
He grinned delightfully. He said: 'Well, it might easily be, but I must see what I can do.' He looked at his wrist-watch. 'By jove,' he said, 'I must be getting off. I've a lot to do. It's been lovely seeing you, Julia. I hope we'll meet again.' He gave my hand a little squeeze, picked up the document case in the most natural way, put it under his arm, began to walk out of the lounge. I looked after him. He really was rather a fine figure of a man.
And then, when he was about six feet from the door, it happened. The door opened and a woman came into the lounge. When she saw Robert her face lit up. They stood there staring at each other almost as if they were both hypnotised.
I was filled with the most appalling jealousy, because—and I must be fair—she was very beautiful, and she certainly knew how to wear clothes. I thought to myself you're in love with him. You've met before. How I dislike you.
But they didn't speak. Robert stood on one side and when she'd passed went out of the lounge. She went over to the writing desk, took out a sheet of notepaper, began to write a letter. I looked at her. I disliked her more every minute. And then—and I suppose I've the same sort of instinct that most women have, especially where another woman is concerned—it seemed to me vaguely that in some way she was dangerous.
I looked at her more carefully. I began to wonder if she were English. There was something about her—I didn't quite know what it was—that was in some way foreign. I wondered....
I shrugged my shoulders and finished my second cocktail. I thought possibly I was being unfair; that I was merely being jealous, but somehow the idea persisted. I remembered what Mr. Forrester had said about foreign agents. Supposing this woman was such a person. Supposing she'd come down here, knowing that I was going to hand over those photographs to Robert. Supposing ...
I gave it up. But I made up my mind that I was going to keep an eye on my girl friend. I remembered that odd look that had passed between her and Robert when they'd met. Obviously they didn't know each other or else they'd have spoken, or if they did know each other it was something that had to be kept secret.
I told myself that I must do my duty and keep an eye on things. And if you think that that was merely jealousy I don't mind a bit. You're quite entitled to!
YOU can imagine, mes enfants that when I went down the
stairs at nine o'clock, I was not feeling too happy. I was
worried about this other woman. I'd changed my frock twice,
because I felt that this time I was up against something that
really mattered. Even the strains of a very good band from the
floor below failed to put me into a better humour.
I went into the lounge, but there was no one there. I'd had a sort of sinking hope that Robert might be waiting for me to come down. But no luck. I walked through the deserted lounge, through the swing door into the ballroom. I stood in the doorway feeling not very happy.
On the other side of the room Robert was dancing with her! And I must say she looked wonderful. She wore a beautifully cut long-sleeved dinner gown of red velvet, and with her raven hair and marvellous complexion she was quite devastating. I felt really rather ill.
I stood there for a moment watching them; then an idea came to me. I walked back through the lounge and casually walked into the entrance foyer of the hotel. A room on the left was used as the men's hat-check room.
I walked over to the doorway and looked in.
My heart gave a jump when I saw what I hoped I shouldn't see. There was an R.A.F. uniform cap hanging up on a peg—Robert's. And underneath it was the document case—the precious document case. Just for one moment I disliked Robert a little.
I went back to the ballroom. As I entered, the dance had just finished. Robert took his partner back to a table; looked up and saw me. He said something to her and came over. He said:
'Well, little cousin Julia—how are you? I'm looking forward to having the next dance with you.'
I said: 'Thank you very much, Robert. Are you sure you really want it? You looked to me as if you're quite happy. Perhaps you'd rather not change your partner.'
He wrinkled his nose at me in the most attractive way. He said: 'Why don't you let me worry about that sort of thing?'
At this moment the band began to play a slow fox-trot. He was a wonderful dancer. Normally I should have been very happy. As it was, I felt quite miserable. I said nothing at all.
After a little while he said: 'You don't sound awfully excited about this dance. Perhaps you'd rather sit it out.'
I said: 'I'm sorry, Robert, if you think I'm such a bad partner, but to tell you the truth I'm not very happy. I'm worried.'
He said: 'No? What could be worrying you?'
I said: 'I'm worried about that document case which you took this afternoon. You know what I mean. I don't think it's a very safe place for it to be—in the cloakroom. I should hate to feel that something might happen to it.'
He looked at me quizzically. He said: 'You're an odd girl, aren't you? Perhaps you take life too seriously. Is that it? Or do you believe that when you play a part you must go on playing?'
'I don't know what you mean,' I said, 'but I hope you'll consider what I've said.'
He shrugged his shoulders. He said: 'I still think you're taking life too seriously.'
I lost my temper. I said: 'In that case, Robert, perhaps you'd rather not go on dancing with me. Perhaps you'd rather dance with your girl friend. I must say she looks quite lovely.'
He grinned at me in the most maddening manner. He said: 'She is rather attractive, isn't she? Do you think I ought to go back to her?'
I boiled. I said: 'Why not?'
He said: 'All right, I will.'
He took me back to a seat at the side of the room, bowed in the approved fashion, went back to her table. I could have murdered him.
I got up, went to my room. I was boiling. I'd never been treated like that in my life, and anyway, whatever my own feelings were as a woman, I was furious from a patriotic point of view—at least I imagined I was. I was now quite certain in my mind that my rival in the red velvet frock was up to no good. I wondered why Robert hadn't taken the document case back to his headquarters, or if he had why he'd brought it back and why it was hanging up in the hat-check room. I felt I ought to do something about it, but I didn't know what to do.
I lit a cigarette and walked up and down my bedroom trying hard to think. Eventually, after what seemed an interminable period, I came to the conclusion that I could do nothing about it. After all I'd done my job and I wasn't responsible for what Robert did.
I felt it would be good to walk a little in the open air.
I put on a wrap, went downstairs, out through the blacked-out entrance of the hotel, and began to walk about the grounds. It was a lovely moonlit night—the sort of night that one associates with romance, but I didn't feel a bit clamorous or romantic. I was just unhappy.
I walked across the lawn round to the back of the hotel. I went up a flight of stone steps leading to the verandah, intending to go back to the ballroom to see what was happening, and as I came round a dark corner I saw a sight that made my heart stand still.
Just in front of me was a gravel court-yard in which cars were parked. It was deserted except for two people—Robert and the woman in the red velvet frock. She was in his arms. He was kissing her, and underneath her arm was the document case!
I stood there frozen. So my guess had been right. Then, as I watched them, she disengaged herself. Robert opened the door of a car. She got in and he stood talking to her through the window.
There was no doubt in my mind as to what I had to do. By some means, fair or foul, I was going to have that document case. I thought quickly. When she started the car she would have to go down the long drive that led to the road. Somehow I must stop her. I ran round the side of the hotel, and approaching the drive from the other side, began to walk towards the gates. Two or three cars were parked in the bushes by the side of the drive. I got into one in which the owner had foolishly left the key, started it up and drove towards the entrance gates. I felt quite reckless. Nothing mattered except that I must get back the document case.
As I approached the gates I heard a car behind me. I knew it would be her car. I slewed my car round right across the driveway. There was no room for her to pass.
I got out of the car and stood waiting.
The oncoming car pulled up. I waited a moment; then a horn was tooted. I walked over to the window. I said: 'Good evening. How do you do?'
It was she. She was wearing a light fur coat over her velvet frock. She looked wonderful. She said to me quite coolly:
'I'm very well. What can I do for you?' There was a hint of a foreign accent in her voice.
I said: 'Excuse me, but I don't think the document case you have with you—the one on the passenger seat beside you—is your property. I want it.'
She said: 'Do you really? How very interesting. Whatever makes you think you're going to get it?'
I said: 'I'm going to get it by force if necessary.'
She said: 'I don't think so.'
I smiled. I intended it to be a superior sort of smile. I asked: 'Why not?'
She said: 'This is a very good reason.'
I looked. Pointing at me was a small and very ominous looking automatic pistol.
She went on: 'Listen, my impetuous friend. I have these photographs and I'm going to keep them. You'll be very foolish if you try to stop me, for two reasons. First of all I shall not have the slightest compunction about shooting you, and secondly, unless I deliver them to the person who is awaiting them within the next half hour I'm afraid your friend the Squadron Leader will come to rather a sticky end. You see, that's how it is.'
She smiled in a condescending way. She said: 'Now be a good girl and take your car out of the way before I get really tough with you.'
I was beaten and I knew it. What could I do? First of all the idea of being shot didn't appeal to me at all, and I was quite certain that she'd carry out her threat. But there was another idea in my mind—what she'd said about Robert. Unless she delivered those photographs they'd probably kill him too. In other words, whatever I did or didn't do, the photographs would be delivered. I felt quite hopeless. I said: 'Very well. You win.'
I got into the car and backed it into the bushes. I sat there feeling unutterably miserable.
She re-started her car and drove slowly past. She put her head out of the window and said, sarcastically:
'Good-night. Thank you so much.'
I watched as her rear light disappeared into the darkness.
IT was nearly ten o'clock next morning when I arrived at the
office in Whitehall. I must have looked awfully odd. I was
wearing my fur coat over my dinner frock of the night before. But
nothing mattered. I just had to let Mr. Forrester know the
terrible truth.
I sat in the waiting-room feeling utterly miserable. Then Mr. Vazey came in. He looked at me gloomily and said:
'I suppose you're feeling very pleased with yourself?'
I didn't say anything. What could I say? Then the door opened and Mr. Forrester stood in the doorway smiling at me. Behind him, grinning mischievously, was Squadron Leader Farquharson.
'Come in, Miss Heron,' said Forrester.
I went in—in a sort of daze. The Squadron Leader brought me a chair and I subsided into it. In the background I could see Mr. Vazey—still looking thoroughly gloomy.
Then Mr. Forrester said: 'Well, Vazey ... thank goodness we put Miss Heron on this job.' He turned to me and went on: 'Of course having read your instructions you knew that we intended those photographs to fall into the hands of the enemy. Three of their agents, including the woman with whom you dealt with so well, were arrested last night with the photographs on them. You've done a marvellous job!'
I said nothing. So that's what my instructions would have told me—if I hadn't lost them!
The Squadron Leader said: 'Miss Heron was terribly clever to hold that woman up in the way she did. You see, Forrester, directly she'd got the document case with the photographs she wanted to get away. I couldn't telephone our people to pick her and her friends up—she might make a getaway. I relied on Miss Heron—somehow—to get me those few minutes and she did. When I saw her pull the car across the drive I knew I had time to warn our people. She did a marvellous job!'
I said nothing. I merely looked modest. I thought that was the safest thing to do.
Mr. Forrester said: 'Naturally, you're awfully tired, Miss Heron. The Squadron Leader here will drive you to your hotel. Have a really good rest and ring up when you feel ready for some more work. You're quite invaluable.'
I murmured something adequate. And I said to myself: Julia, this really is your lucky day!
As the Squadron Leader and I walked down the deserted corridor, suddenly I remembered something. I said to him rather coldly: 'You must find your work fearfully exciting ... Cousin Robert... mustn't you?'
He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. He said cheerfully: 'Not too bad ... why?'
I said: 'Oh nothing ... it's dangerous work of course ... but it has its moments. Of course it was merely a matter of duty but you didn't look to me as if you positively disliked that woman....'
He said: 'Oh that ... I didn't really kiss her much ... well... not seriously....'
I raised my eyebrows. I said: 'Oh ... well, it looked fairly serious to me.'
He said: 'You're quite wrong, Cousin Julia. I wasn't a bit serious. Now when I kiss seriously I—but let me show you!'
And, believe it or not, he did!
IMAGINE, my children—just imagine—standing under a tree in a forest at seven o'clock on a December evening, with a mist coming up, a stream of raindrops falling with great precision on your best hat, the knowledge that the nicest pair of shoes you ever possessed are being absolutely ruined, and a temper that continues to rise each minute. Visualise this scene, my pets, and you have a very good picture of your unfortunate Julia at the moment.
Somewhere, an owl with very little sense of time, hooted dolorously. From the depths of the woods those strange noises which come with approaching night conspired to scare me just a little more than I thought possible. Altogether not so good!
Early that morning, with a comfortable breakfast tray on my knees, I had—with a sense of exhilaration since regretted—reached out for the telephone and received the following dramatic message from Mr. Vazey. I have indicated on previous occasions that Mr. Vazey is no great favourite of mine, and at the moment, standing under my tree, wishing that I was wearing a diving suit, trembling slightly at the knees, and with that shocking feeling that comes to a woman who feels that her nose is almost entirely devoid of powder, I could cheerfully have killed Mr. Vazey, and when I say killed I mean murdered.
'A car will pick you up at five-thirty this evening,' he had said. 'It will take you to a spot on the Sutton-Reigate-Brighton road and will drop you near a white five-barred gate. You will go through the gate, cross the field, walk along the lane that leads through a wood. You will stop and wait under the fifth tree on the right, past the first clearing. You will then receive further instructions. You will carry with you a suitcase with one or two complete changes, as your work may require you to be extremely attractively dressed. You understand, Miss Heron?'
I said I understood. I hung up, sprang out of bed like a gazelle, and executed a small war-dance.
'This, Julia,' I said, 'is going to be very interesting. This is going to be real secret service work. You will wait under the fifth tree and you will receive further instructions! Probably from some delightful individual like Squadron Leader Farquharson,' whom you may remember I met on my last adventure.
AND here I was! As if to punctuate my misery a large raindrop
ran carefully over the brim of my now entirely ruined hat and
descended on the end of my nose. Then I heard footsteps. I drew
back into the shadow of the tree and waited. At any rate, I
thought, something may happen, and whatever it is nothing
could be worse than this.
The footsteps came nearer. I could hear them squelching along the muddy footpath. And something did happen. Mr. Vazey happened. Of course it had to be him.
He stopped right in front of me and looked at me with that peculiar expression which is somewhere between a frown and an expression of pity.
He said brusquely: 'Good evening Miss Heron.'
'It isn't anything of the sort, Mr. Vazey,' I said. 'I see nothing good about it, and why I should have to wait about under trees, in woods, in rainstorms to meet you when you could just as easily have telephoned me, I don't know!'
He said coldly: 'Miss Heron, it isn't your business to know. Your business is to carry out your instructions to the letter. The mission with which you are about to be entrusted is a matter of life and death.'
'That's as may be,' I said. 'At the same time, Mr. Vazey, I would like to point out to you that even if I do have to die I would rather expire in a dry condition and without a run in each stocking!'
'You should have brought a raincoat,' he said. 'But in any event, you will not be here for long. Now please attend carefully, Miss Heron, because the situation at the moment is tense. A great deal depends on you.'
I said: 'Very well, Mr. Vazey. I must say that it seems that since I have been in the Secret Service I seem to have carried the whole thing on my shoulders. At the moment I feel so depressed that to be shot by a foreign spy would be a positive relief.'
'Even that might happen, Miss Heron,' he said with what I thought to be an entirely unnecessarily cheerful note in his voice. 'Now listen. Not very far from this place is a house called Verulam Lodge. This place is the headquarters of a group of people who have been operating in this country on behalf of the enemy for some time. They have been under observation by one of our local operatives, and we know that they have succeeded in obtaining some microscopic photographs of certain coast defence localities. We have reason to know that a woman accomplice was to arrive later tonight, for the purpose of collecting these photographs. Early this evening this woman was arrested. Do you understand so far?'
I said I understood very well.
'The next thing,' continued Vazey, 'is for us to obtain possession of those photographs. You will realise that they are microscopic, and are probably on a film not more than a few inches long and an inch wide. They are probably well hidden and it is for this reason that you have been selected to carry out the conclusion of this job.'
'Which is what, Mr. Vazey?' I asked. I must say I did not like the sound of things.
'The woman who was supposed to go to Verulam Lodge this evening,' he said, 'is a woman who might be said to be not unlike you. She is titian haired, of good figure, beautiful and with a certain allure.' He coughed. 'Our chief—Mr. Forrester—considers that you are sufficiently like her to take her place.'
'How nice of Mr. Forrester,' I said. 'But at the moment I don't feel at all beautiful, and as for my allure I feel that could be stuck under a postage stamp and not even noticed.'
He went on: 'You will walk down the path until you come out of the wood, turn to the right and continue until you come to a cottage—Heath Cottage. Here is the key. You will find everything you want there—a hot bath, tea and the sable coat which the woman who has been arrested was wearing. At nine o'clock tonight you will go to Verulam Lodge. You will ring three times on the front door bell and you will introduce yourself as Madame Sonia Esteralza. Now listen carefully and I will tell you exactly what you have to say and do....'
With the rain dripping over the brim of my hat I listened.
FIVE minutes afterwards, Mr. Vazey having taken himself off, I
walked down the squelchy path towards the road which he had
indicated. I have never in all my life felt so soggy. Even my
brain seemed waterlogged with rain. At the end of the
path—between it and the road—was a gate. I opened
this, walked through and fell into a large ditch which apparently
had been carefully prepared for my reception. I concluded that I
definitely did not like the Secret Service.
I picked myself up, got out of the ditch and found myself looking into an electric torch wielded by a very passable-looking young gentleman in the uniform of the Fighting French Navy.
I said good evening in a very depressed tone of voice.
He said cheerfully: 'Good evening, M'selle. The country round here at this moment in this weather is very difficult. May I assist you?'
I said: 'I'd be very glad if you would. I've dropped my suitcase and my handbag. If you could find those I'd be greatly obliged to you.'
I stood in the road trying to pull myself together, whilst my newly-found French friend searched around in the ditch with his torch. A few minutes later he stood beside me, my suitcase and my handbag in his hand.
'M'selle,' he said, 'I have retrieved your property. Perhaps you will be kind enough to allow me to escort you to wherever you are going.'
I said: 'That's very kind of you. I'm going to a place called Heath Cottage. I'm not awfully certain where it is.'
He looked at me. I think I should point out to you, mes enfants, that he was very good-looking. He had a nice, kind, oval face, a small moustache, and one of those rather tremulous noses. He was slim, very well set-up. Altogether a nice person, I thought.
He said: 'Oh yes, M'selle, I know where Heath Cottage is. It's just down the road. I shall be delighted to take you there.'
I said: 'Thank you very much.'
We walked down the road. Very soon we arrived at Heath Cottage. He touched his hat. He said:
'Au revoir, M'selle. I am very glad to have been of service to you. I hope we meet again soon,' he smiled at me in rather an odd manner and went on.
I OPENED the door of Heath Cottage with the key which Mr.
Vazey had given me, and I must say I was surprised at the
interior. The black-out was carefully done, the fires turned on.
There was a marvellous bathroom, and on the bed in the bedroom
lay the most amazing sable coat I had ever seen in my life.
I went into the kitchen. There were sandwiches and a tea tray ready. I felt better every minute. I began to feel that after all the Secret Service wasn't quite so bad. And after I had had some tea and a hot bath I felt even better.
I lay down on the bed and rested for a while, after which I unpacked my suitcase, dressed myself carefully in an aquamarine velvet coat and skirt, beige stockings, bronze court shoes; gave myself a very careful hair-do and put on the sable coat which had been the property of Madame Esteralza.
I looked at myself in the pier glass in the bedroom. I said to myself: 'Julia, you don't look at all bad. If anybody is going to get back those photographs I think it's going to be you.'
AT nine o'clock precisely I rang the antique door bell at
Verulam Lodge. I must say my heart was beating rather quickly and
I felt just a little bit tremulous. However, I had to go
through with it and that was that.
I waited a few minutes and the door opened. In the dim light that came from the hall behind, stood the figure of a not very prepossessing individual. He was short, broad, with black hair and peculiarly piercing eyes. When he saw me his round face broke into a smile. He said, in perfect English:
'Ah, Madame Esteralza?'
I said: 'Yes. Very much at your service. I'm afraid I'm a little late, aren't I?'
He shrugged his shoulders. He said: 'Does that matter? Believe me, I'm very glad to see you. Please come in.'
I went in, and he closed the door quietly behind me. Then he led the way through a long passage to a room at the back of the house. I didn't like Verulam Lodge. Our footsteps echoing down the passage made the place sound very large and very empty. It seemed to me one of those places usually associated with a ghost story.
At the end of the passage my host opened the door. I stepped into a large, well-furnished room. Behind a desk in the corner, a man with a beard was seated, writing. On the right-hand side of the room a large log-fire was burning. There were drinks on the sideboard.
The man with the beard got up. He said: 'Madame, you are indeed welcome. Please sit down. Perhaps you would like a drink?'
I said no thank you to that, but I accepted a cigarette which he lit for me. I sat there smoking, wondering what the next move in the game was going to be. I was feeling happier. It looked as if those people really thought I was Madame Esteralza.
The man with the beard went back to his seat behind the desk. He lit a cigarette slowly, drew on it with obvious pleasure.
He said: 'Madame, perhaps you will be good enough, purely as a matter of form, to tell us what the code word is.'
'Of course,' I said, remembering Mr. Vazey's instructions. 'The code word is Führer.'
He smiled cynically. He said: 'My dear young lady, the unfortunate thing for you is that it is not. It was changed yesterday. Now perhaps you would like to tell us who you really are? And you might like to answer some more questions which we will ask you.'
I sat there feeling not at all good. First of all I was furious with Mr. Vazey for having slipped up about the code word. Secondly, it looked as if the situation might be very dangerous. I glanced over my shoulder. The man who had let me in was standing in the middle of the room, watching me. I began to think I didn't like the Secret Service one little bit.
The bearded man flicked the ash off his cigarette. He said: 'I'm going to suggest that it would be good for your own health to tell us everything. Quite obviously you are an impostor, but we want to know—'
At this moment somebody rang the front door bell. It went on jangling for what seemed an interminable time. The man standing in the middle of the room shrugged his shoulders.
He said: 'I wonder who that is.'
The bearded one smiled. He said: 'It might be Jacques.'
The other went away. Two or three minutes afterwards he returned. Behind him was the Fighting French Naval Lieutenant who had rescued me from the ditch earlier in the evening. He came into the room on the heels of the other man; said breathlessly:
'I'm glad to get here in time. This woman is not Madame Esteralza. She's an impostor. Quite obviously, she's been put in by the British Secret Service. Just after seven o'clock this evening she had a meeting in the wood with a man. This is a frame-up.'
The gentleman with the beard folded his hands. He rested his chin on them and looked at Jacques. I think I hated Jacques more than anybody else. I realised that I'd been the complete little mug. I'd just been taken in by everybody. And I loathed Mr. Vazey.
The man behind the desk said: 'It's very good of you, Jacques, to have taken so much trouble. You've been a very good and faithful servant to the Reich. You will be adequately rewarded.'
He pulled open a drawer in the desk, put his hand inside. When it came out it held a short black automatic. He sat there smiling, the muzzle of the pistol pointing straight at the Fighting French Naval officer. An expression of extreme astonishment came over Jacques' face.
He said: 'But I don't understand.'
'No?' said the bearded man. 'We know all about you. Your sudden arrival here to tell us that this lady was an impostor was almost too well timed. Possibly, you had begun to think we suspected you and that the best way for you to prove to us that you were working for us was to come here and give her away; after you knew that we were aware of the fact that she was merely impersonating Madame Esteralza, who unfortunately was arrested this afternoon.'
Jacques shrugged his shoulders. He looked at me with a grin. He said: 'It's tough luck, Miss Heron, but it looks as if they've got us where they want us. I'm on your side. I put this act on as a last hope. Well, it hasn't come off.'
The bearded man said: 'Definitely not!' He looked at me with his twisted smile. He said: 'I've no doubt, my dear Miss Heron, that you expected to leave this place with those microscopic photographs that we have taken so much trouble to secure. Well, you won't. Some time tomorrow morning you will be permitted to leave this house. By that time, myself and my colleague and the photographs will be a very long way away. In fact we shall be on the other side of the English Channel.'
He got up, walked over to the fireplace, stood regarding Jacques and me with a sarcastic smile. 'There's not a great deal of need for you to worry unduly,' he went on, 'because we're not even going to kill you. Why should we? It's an entirely unnecessary process. We only kill people whom we really fear.'
I said to Jacques: 'You don't know how relieved I am to hear that one. I'm awfully glad they don't really fear us.'
The bearded one said: 'Franz, go upstairs and get the suitcases.'
Franz clicked his heels, said something in German that sounded like a minor explosion and went away.
Then Black Beard said casually: 'You will wait here until tomorrow morning. You will not attempt to leave this house. I think I should tell you that for your own sakes implicit obedience to my instructions would be a very good thing. This house will be watched. If you attempt to leave before ten o'clock tomorrow morning you will be shot. Remember this is a very lonely place. There is no possibility of assistance. You understand?'
I nodded. 'Only too well,' I said, with an attempt at a bright smile.
Jacques shrugged his shoulders. He looked at me whimsically. He said: 'Well, we tried anyway, didn't we?'
I said: 'Maybe, but it wasn't such a good try. I don't think our instructions were too good, do you?'
He shrugged his shoulders again. He said: 'The fortune of war.'
Franz came back. He was carrying two suitcases, two hats.
Black Beard said: 'Draw your pistol, Franz.'
The other man produced an automatic. Black Beard went on: 'You know, you people are really very stupid.' He held out the pistol in his hand. 'This isn't even a pistol,' he said. 'You amateurs in the British Secret Service have so much to learn. Perhaps you will like to tell your chiefs that you were held up with a cigarette case.' He pointed the supposed automatic at me, pressed the trigger. There was a click. A cigarette shot out of the barrel and fell into the fireplace.
He said: 'You see?' He shot another cigarette into the palm of his hand, lit it; threw the imitation pistol onto the table. He said: 'Really, my children, you have so very much to learn. And now we'll wish you a very good evening. And remember my instructions—if you attempt to leave this house before ten o'clock tomorrow morning it will not be so good for you. Good night.'
He went out of the room. Franz, with an evil grin over his shoulder, and the automatic in his hand still covering us, followed him. We heard the door locked from the other side.
Jacques sighed. He subsided into the armchair on the other side of the fireplace. He said: 'Not so good, hey, Miss Heron? It looks as if Vazey slipped badly this time.'
I shrugged my shoulders. I said: 'Perhaps it's a little unfair to blame Mr. Vazey. It's quite obvious what has happened. They arrested this woman Esteralza this afternoon, but somehow these people got to know. That's all there is to it?'
He said: 'That isn't all there is to it. They've got away with those photographs and, as they say, tomorrow they'll probably be over the Channel. There's a fog coming up. I expect a motorboat will pick them up. It's a pretty bad business after all the work we've put in here, and they were even wise to me.' He grinned ruefully.
I said: 'And you were supposed to be working with them?'
He nodded. 'I took the place of a Gestapo man they had in the French Naval Air Service. I thought I'd got away with it. I've been in touch with them for weeks. I thought this job was going to be a certainty. As it is, it's just a failure.'
I said: 'Listen, M'sieu Jacques, this may not be such a failure as you think.'
He said: 'What do you mean?'
I said airily: 'Oh nothing, but we've got to stay here till ten o'clock tomorrow morning, so we'd better make the best of it.'
He said: 'I don't propose to do that. I'm going to get out of here even if there is somebody waiting outside with a gun.'
I said: 'You can do that if you like, but I shouldn't, even if I thought there was anyone waiting outside with a gun, which I do not. I think that was just bluff; but if you want to go, you can.'
He said: 'But what about you?'
'I've got an idea,' I said, 'that I'm going to stay here. I've got an idea that you will too if you've got any sense.'
He said indignantly: 'I've a great deal of sense.'
'I doubt it,' I said cheerfully. 'Anyway, everything's been a failure up to date. Would you mind letting me play this thing the way I want to?'
He said: 'Very well. What do you want to do? What marvellous scheme is there in your mind? How do you think it possible to catch these people?'
I said: 'I don't want to go into details. What I do want to do is to compose myself and get a little sleep. Incidentally, don't you think it might be a good idea if you found out if that door was really locked, and if it isn't there might be a kitchen somewhere in the vicinity. You might even find some coffee. I'd like some coffee very much.'
He got up. He shrugged his shoulders. He said: 'You're a most extraordinary person, but—' He shrugged his shoulders again; went over to the door, tried it. It opened quite easily. He said: 'How extraordinary.'
'Not at all,' I said. 'Why should they lock us in? This room's on the ground floor and there's a perfectly good window behind those curtains. If we'd wanted to get out we could have got out.'
He gave an exclamation of annoyance. 'My dear Miss Heron, supposing we stay here till ten o'clock tomorrow morning, what happens then?'
I said: 'My friend, the thing for us to do is to wait and see. You see if you can find some coffee, after which I'm going to wrap Madame Esteralza's fur coat around me and try and get a little beauty sleep. I feel I need it!'
SOMEWHERE in the old house a grandfather clock wheezily struck
ten. I got up from my chair, feeling a little stiff; walked over
to the windows, drew the heavy velvet curtains and looked out.
The sun was shining. It was a lovely day. As I stood there
Jacques came into the room.
'Well?' I asked him. 'Did you find the back way into the house?'
'No, M'selle,' he said, 'but there is a side door which will serve our purpose just as well. But I wish you'd explain to me this idea....'
'I don't want to explain anything,' I told him, '—not at the moment. It is ten o'clock—the time we were supposed to leave here. So we will leave. We'll go out of the front door in a very obvious way; then very quietly we'll slip round the house, come in by the side door and get into this room very quickly. Then you know what to do.'
He said: 'Very well.' He shrugged his shoulders. 'I still don't see what it's all about,' he said.
I looked at him wisely. 'No,' I said, 'I'm sure you don't. That's the whole point.'
We walked down the passage, through the hallway, opened the front door and stood at the top of the short flight of steps that led into the driveway. We stood there for a moment then Jacques closed the door with a bang. We walked casually down the driveway. Then, under cover of some rhododendron bushes, turned off into a side path. We hurried to the side door which Jacques had left open, went in. In two minutes we were back in the library.
'Now, M'sieu Jacques,' I said, 'we will see if I'm right. We wait behind this screen, and as we may have to wait a little while I think some chairs would be a good idea.'
He fetched the chairs. We sat down behind a large leather screen which stood in one corner of the room. We waited.
After a few minutes he said: 'I think this is ridiculous. I think we should get in touch with—'
'Do you mind,' I hissed at him, 'not talking. I don't want any noise please.'
I'd hardly spoken the words when we heard the sound of footsteps. They came nearer. After a moment the door opened. A woman came into the room. I looked at Jacques. I moved out from behind the screen. I produced an automatic pistol. I said to her:
'Good morning. Would you mind putting up your hands and keeping them there please?'
She stood in the centre of the room—a good-looking woman of about thirty-five years of age. If looks could have killed I should have been dead that instant.
Jacques said: 'But I don't understand. What is this?'
I said: 'Of course you don't. Don't you see she's come to get the photographs?'
He said: 'What do you mean?'
I said: 'Jacques, the whole thing was too obvious. These people were careful to tell us that we were not to leave till ten o'clock this morning, to give them time to get away. They knew perfectly well that this house was being watched. After all, Mr. Vazey's in the neighbourhood, and he's not likely to be alone on the job. Do you think they'd have been so stupid as to try and take those photographs with them?'
He said: 'You mean—?'
I said: 'I mean those photographs are in that cigarette that our bearded friend shot into the fireplace last night. This woman here—another accomplice—has come to get it. Am I not right, Madame?'
She looked at me for a moment; then she spoke. Believe me, mes enfants, what she said was very rude indeed.
'Now,' I said, 'perhaps you will be good enough to search her handbag. You will probably find she's armed.'
Jacques looked at me. I must say there was a glint of admiration in his eyes. He said: 'Miss Heron, I didn't think it possible for any girl to be as clever as you. If I had a hat on I'd take it off to you.'
In her handbag he found a pistol. When he'd got it, I said: 'Well, all that remains to be done is to deliver this lady and the cigarette'—I picked it up out of the fire-place—'to Mr. Vazey. Even if his side of the job wasn't so well done, I don't think we can complain of ours.'
He said: 'I think you're wonderful. How lucky it was that you had that pistol.'
'I hadn't,' I told him. 'This is the bearded gentleman's cigarette case. He left it behind last night!'
Jacques stood in the middle of the floor. He said: 'I have already told you that I think you are wonderful. I'll go further, Miss Heron—I think you're superb.'
I said: 'That's as may be, but I want some breakfast, and we have to deliver our bad-tempered friend here. Don't you think we might go and find Mr. Vazey? I'd like to tell him what I think about him.'
He said: 'You mean for putting you in such a position of danger?'
'Oh no,' I said, 'not that. But for making me stand under a tree in the rain for twenty minutes last night. Doesn't he realise that I've ruined my best pair of shoes, and I haven't even any coupons!'
I WONDER, my children, how many of you have done just what I was doing on a rather gloomy February evening—that is, sitting in front of a rather cheerful fire, in my new and quite cosy flat, thinking about the opposite sex.
Thinking about the other sex is usually a matter of comparison and I must admit that I was comparing the sex as a whole with Mr. Forrester.
Mr. Forrester—Hubert—although I had never dared call him that to his face—is as you know the head of the Secret Service Department for which I have been adventuring for the last six months, and there is something about Hubert....
I came to the conclusion that I rather liked the tone of his voice and the way he spoke. I liked his clothes and the way he wore them. In fact I think I liked most things about him.
If you don't know what I mean I think you ought to see somebody about it because you're missing an awful lot of fun.
Then—and I found this very interesting—I began to wonder what sort of women he was interested in—that is if he was interested in women. As you probably know I hadn't seen a great deal of him. I had received instructions as to what I was to do, but I'd never had a chance really to talk to him. I was a little bit sorry about that because even a girl who is as hard-boiled as I am does like to know something about her boss. Why not?
Suddenly these interesting ruminations were interrupted by the telephone bell jangling. Something told me it was going to be Mr. Forrester. I thought: Perhaps he's going to ask me out to dinner. Who knows? He never has, but it's never too late to start anything. I felt a little excited as I walked over to the telephone.
It was Mr. Forrester. He said: 'Good evening, Miss Heron. I'm sorry to disturb you. I hope you're pleased with your new flat.'
I said: 'It's nice of you to ring up to ask me how I like this place;—or was there anything else...?'
He said: 'Yes, I'm afraid there is.' He hesitated for a moment; then he went on: 'In fact, Miss Heron, I've a rather ticklish job for you. I don't think it's going to be particularly dangerous, but I'd like you to be very careful.'
I said: 'Mr. Forrester, I've always been very careful, haven't I? And you must admit that even if I have taken a chance sometimes I've usually pulled it off. What am I to do?'
He said:'I don't want to talk about it on the telephone. I want you to go down to a place called Pinmill. It's some way out of London—on the Broads. I'll send a car for you in half an hour.'
I said brightly: 'Very well, Mr. Forrester. I'll be quite ready. And when I get there what do I do?'
He said: 'When you get there you will leave the car at the railway station. You'd better take a torch with you, because it's very dark down there, and you must complete the rest of your journey on foot because I don't want you to attract too much attention. When you arrive there I want you to find an inn called the Waterwheel. Go into the bar parlour and you will find an old friend of yours waiting for you.'
I thought I detected an ironic note of amusement in his voice. I said: 'That means Mr. Vazey will be waiting for me, Mr. Forrester?'
He said: 'That's right. Vazey knows the whole of the story. He'll tell you exactly what I want you to do and he'll be standing by to look after you in case anything goes wrong.'
I said: 'I see. So this is going to be a real adventure. Something might go wrong?'
He said: 'I don't think so, but I never take unnecessary chances, Miss Heron, especially with such a valuable and charming operative as yourself.'
I said: 'It's very nice of you to say that, Mr. Forrester, but I wish you'd put the adjectives the other way round. I'd rather be charming than valuable.'
He said: 'Believe it or not, Miss Heron, I've been trying to work out whether you are more charming than valuable and I find it very difficult. I think you're both to the nth degree.'
Do you know, my pets, I almost blushed into the telephone. I said: 'Really, Mr. Forrester!' But I must say I felt pleased.
He said: 'Well, I'm going to hang up now. Don't forget, the car will come round for you in half an hour, and it's a cold night so wrap up. Au revoir, Miss Heron, and good luck to you.'
I BELIEVE in the old days Pinmill was regarded as a beauty
spot, but believe me, mes enfants, on this night it was as
dark as pitch, with the wind howling in the trees, and everything
feeling very lonely and cold. Your poor Julia, walking along a
country road, began to feel not so cheery. As I walked along I
thought it was rather odd that Mr. Forrester should have given me
such an uncomfortable job. Still, I'd had uncomfortable jobs
before, and sometimes ones that appeared on the surface to be a
little more dangerous, and I'd got away with it. I suddenly
realised that it would be awfully funny if one of these fine days
I was given a job to do and didn't get away with it. For a moment
I felt quite scared.
I obeyed the instructions I had been given at the station; turned off down a little winding road that led towards the Broads. I walked a couple of hundred yards and then was able to see the glimmer that came through the windows of what seemed to be the only house on the road. I flashed my torch. It was the Waterwheel.
Well, I'd arrived! I breathed a sigh of relief, walked round to the back of the inn, found the door that led to the bar parlour. I pushed it open and went in. It was warm and cosy inside but almost deserted. Only one solitary figure sat in a large armchair looking rather miserably at the fire. The figure had a large whisky and soda in its hand and it turned its head as I came in.
I said brightly: 'Good evening, Mr. Vazey. I'm very glad to see you again.'
He said: 'That's nice of you, Miss Heron, but I'm not particularly pleased to see you.'
'Mr. Vazey!' I said in my most shocked voice, 'I'm surprised to hear you say such a thing to a lady.'
He said: 'I didn't mean it in exactly that way. What I meant was I don't like this business.'
I said: 'Well, Mr. Vazey, I don't know whether I like it or whether I don't because I don't know anything about it.'
He got up, pulled another armchair in front of the fire. He said: 'You look cold, I think you'd better have a little whisky.'
He went to the cubby hole, ordered it and returned in a minute or two with a glass in his hand. By this time I was in my chair warming my hands at the fire. He handed me the drink, and I must say that Mr. Vazey, whose face has never struck me as being particularly happy, now looked more mournful than I'd ever seen him before.
I said: 'Oh, buck up, Mr. Vazey. It's probably not as bad as that. What's all the trouble about?'
He pulled his chair nearer to mine. He said: 'The trouble is, Miss Heron, that I think somebody's taking Forrester for a ride, and I think you and I are going to be the stooges. In fact,' he went on in an even more morbid voice, 'I think it's going to be worse for you than it is for me.'
'Oh dear,' I said, 'aren't you the happy little warrior? Well, tell me the worst.'
He said: 'We've had a woman working for the Department for about three months. I don't like her. She's a foreigner—supposed to be a neutral. Forrester found her somewhere and he thinks a lot of her.'
I stiffened. 'Oh, does he?' I said. I began to feel the tiniest bit angry with Mr. Forrester. I didn't know there were any other women working for the Department. I told Mr. Vazey that.
He said: 'She's the only woman besides yourself. I don't believe in using women on this sort of work.'
'Never mind about that, Mr. Vazey,' I said. 'What is she like? Would you call her beautiful?'
He said: 'Yes, I suppose you would. She's very good-looking, and she's got a very good figure. She knows how to dress. In fact—' he said—then he hesitated.
'In fact what, Mr. Vazey?' I prompted him. 'What's on your mind?'
He looked at me. He said: 'You know it's a funny thing to say to you, Miss Heron, but I sometimes wonder if Forrester has fallen for that dame.'
I wilted. For the first time in my life I felt a really large size pang of jealousy. Here I was thinking I was the star woman performer in Mr. Forrester's organisation, and all the time there was a beautiful foreign woman with a lovely figure and a marvellous taste in clothes lurking about in the undergrowth. I said to myself: Not so good, Julia. You've got to do something about this.
Mr. Vazey went on: 'I've had a suspicion in my mind for the last two or three weeks that she's led him up the garden path.'
I said: 'Well, we shall find out eventually, shan't we? But exactly what are we doing tonight? What is all the mystery about?'
He said: 'The position is this. This woman, whose name by the way is Françoise Alvarez, has been in touch with some refugees who live down here. She says these people have a great deal of information—valuable information—but they're too scared to talk.' He shrugged his shoulders. 'Forrester thought that if you came down, you being a woman—and rather nice-looking yourself—' said he grudgingly, 'they might be inclined to talk to you. So you're to go and meet them and her.'
'Oh ho!' I said. 'So she's here, is she?'
He nodded. 'That's right,' he said. 'When we leave here we walk down to the landing stage. I've been down there and looked over the ground because it is very dark. We have to row out to a yacht that's moored about a hundred yards from the shore. You can see it from here in the daylight. We'll find a dinghy tied to the mooring stage, and we've got to pull out. The Alvarez woman will be on the yacht. The three refugees live aboard; they used to come over here in peace time in the summer and stay here.'
I said: 'Well, Mr. Vazey, all that sounds very simple.'
He said: 'I hope it's going to be as simple as it sounds. Candidly, I think we're down here on a wild goose chase. We'll probably find nobody on the boat at all.'
I said: 'You mean even the Alvarez person will have flown?'
'Why not?' he said. 'I know Forrester paid her a sum of money for her services yesterday. She's probably hundreds of miles away from here by now, telling somebody else the tale.'
I felt I had to be loyal even although I didn't like the sound of this Françoise Alvarez woman a bit. I said: 'I'm sure you're wrong, Mr. Vazey. I'm sure Mr. Forrester wouldn't be taken for a ride by a woman.'
Mr. Vazey grinned at me in the most unpleasant manner. He said: 'Oh no! Well, what about you?'
I said: 'Mr. Vazey, are you suggesting I've taken Mr. Forrester for a ride?'
He said: 'If you don't know, I don't.'
I looked extremely hurt and rather dignified. I said: 'I think this conversation must cease.'
He finished his whisky and sighed. 'That suits me, Miss Heron,' he said. He looked at his wrist watch. 'I think it is time we were going. We'll go and find this Alvarez woman. We'll get to the bottom of this.'
I got up. 'Come on, Mr. Vazey,' I said. 'I'll bet you any money you like when we get aboard that yacht we'll find all of them there, all perfectly prepared to tell their story to me. I'm going to be very charming and very sympathetic—I suggest you leave the talking to me. Remember these people have been scared. I don't want them to be any more scared.'
He said: 'Very well, I'll leave it to you.' We left the Waterwheel and began to go down the road. The wind had dropped and one or two spots of rain were beginning to fall. I was thinking about this Alvarez woman; what Mr. Vazey had said about her. I wondered if it could possibly be true; if Mr. Forrester, whom I'd always regarded as being tough, had actually fallen for her. I am afraid that in the darkness I sighed rather heavily.
Mr. Vazey heard it. He said: 'Well... I feel like that too.'
I SAT in the stern of the little dinghy and shivered. Mr.
Vazey laboriously pulling against the tide, looked every now and
then over his shoulder to where—fifty or sixty yards
away—the red lamp on the side of the yacht twinkled. I
wondered what sort of interview I was going to have; just how
much I should be able to persuade these people to talk. I
shrugged my shoulders. I came to the conclusion it wasn't very
much use thinking about it. I should soon know.
A few minutes afterwards we arrived. Mr. Vazey tied up the dinghy and helped me out onto the gangway, and up on to the deck. We could see a gleam of light coming through the blacked-out window on the deckhouse.
Suddenly a soft voice said in the darkness: 'Oh, good evening. Would this be the charming Miss Heron?'
A man came round the corner of the deckhouse. By the light of the torch he held in his hand I saw he was tall, good-looking.
'Will you come in this way, please?' His voice was sibilant and foreign.
Mr. Vazey said: 'Good evening.'
We followed the light of the torch down a companion-way. At the bottom were thick curtains. We passed through into a corridor which apparently ran the whole length of the yacht. On each side were cabin doors. At the end of the passage our guide opened a door. He said:
'Step in, please.'
I stepped into the cabin with Mr. Vazey at my heels. Then I heard the door close behind us and I knew something was very, very wrong!
The cabin was large—well-furnished. It looked almost like an office. In the centre was a large table. Sitting behind it were two men. There was no sign of Françoise Alvarez.
I turned to look at Mr. Vazey, and I saw something which confirmed my worst suspicions. The man who had brought us in was leaning against the door and the smile on his face was not at all pleasing.
I said as brightly as I could: 'Well, good evening, gentlemen. And where is Madame Alvarez?'
The big man behind the table said with a cynical smile: 'I'm afraid she ees not here, Miss Heron, and you might as well know that you and your friend are rather like the two flies that walked into the spider's web. Hein?'
Vazey said: 'I knew it. We've walked into it this time.'
My heart sank. I didn't like the sound of this a bit.
The man behind the table went on speaking. He said: 'I've always had a great regard for the British Secret Service and especially for the Department which your chief Mr. Forrester runs so cleverly. But even the most clever people can make mistakes.'
I said: 'I see. So Mr. Forrester made a mistake about Madame Alvarez?'
He nodded. His smile broadened. He said: 'I'm afraid he did. You see, Madame Alvarez works for us—the Nazis. We've been lucky enough to be able to operate in this country for some months without any suspicion falling on us. That has been due to the very clever tactics of our dear Françoise.' He went on: 'I'm sorry you can't meet her. Miss Heron. She's a very charming and beautiful woman—very nearly as attractive as you.'
Mr. Vazey said: 'Cut the cackle. What's all this about?' His voice was grim.
The big man said insolently: 'You'll know in a minute. In the meantime, my friend, I prefer to address my remarks to Miss Heron. I like talking to beautiful women.'
I said: 'Thank you very much for the compliment, Mr. Whoever-you-are, but at the present moment I'm not particularly interested in talking to you. Exactly what is the game? It seems we've walked into some sort of trap. Well usually there's a way out.'
He nodded. He said: 'That may be so, Miss Heron. Possibly there ees a way out of this trap, but that ees a matter of arrangement. After all I would be very annoyed if anything unpleasant should happen to such a charming person as yourself.'
'So should I,' I said. 'I shouldn't like it a bit. What's the arrangement?'
Mr. Vazey said: 'You lousy Nazi, do you think we're going to do a deal with you?'
'Please be quiet, Mr. Vazey,' I said. 'After all there's no reason why we shouldn't listen to what this gentleman has to say.' I threw one of my most pleasant smiles in the direction of the nasty piece of work behind the table.
He said: 'Miss Heron, you are a very wise and a very brave woman. Quite obviously you are frightened, but you are putting a good face on it. I like that and'—his voice changed—'you have every reason to be frightened. Here you are on this yacht some little distance from shore. Anything might happen to you—that ees unless you are prepared to leesten to reason.'
I said: 'Well, I must admit I'm a bit scared. Supposing I hear what you call reason.'
The big man got up, took out a cigarette case, lit a cigarette. He began to walk about the cabin. He looked extremely self-satisfied. Behind him the third man was still standing with his back to the door. The big man stopped walking about. He leaned up against the wall of the cabin.
He said: 'Briefly here ees the situation. In certain circumstances, Miss Heron, we may allow you to return to the shore. We shall keep Mr. Vazey here as a hostage, just to see that we are allowed ample time to get away. Possibly we may even take him with us.' He smiled cynically in the direction of Mr. Vazey who was looking very glum. 'But the only condition,' he went on, 'on which we shall allow you to leave this yacht alive tonight is that you give us full and complete details of the organisation which your fren' Mr. Forrester runs, and for which I believe you have been working for some time.'
Mr. Vazey said suddenly: 'Don't listen to him, Miss Heron. If you talk they'll still deal with you. I know these people. Whatever happens to us we've got to face it.'
I began rather to like Mr. Vazey, but I had a little idea in my head. I looked at him and gave him the tiniest wink.
I said in a tremulous voice: 'I don't know about that, Mr. Vazey, but I'm very very frightened. I don't want anything to happen to me. I don't want to die. Besides what harm should I do if I told these people a little bit about Mr. Forrester and the Department?'
The big man took the cigarette out of his mouth. He said: 'Really, Miss Heron, I think you are a very sensible young woman.'
Mr. Vazey looked at me. Just for a second I saw one of his eyelids flicker. He had evidently seen my wink. He took his cue. He said:
'Miss Heron, you don't mean to say you're going to talk to these people? You don't mean to say you're going to be a traitor of your country?'
I put my hand up to my cheek. It was trembling. I made my hand shake so much it looked a leaf on a tree in the wind.
I said: 'Oh dear, Mr. Vazey, I don't know what to do. I'm so scared I feel I'm going to faint in a minute.'
I came to a conclusion. I decided to have hysterics. I uttered a little shriek, fell down on the floor and began to laugh hysterically. I must have fallen in a very graceful position because I saw the second man who was sitting behind the table, who hadn't spoken up to now, regarding my ankles approvingly.
I lay there shrieking with idiotic laughter, watching the big man out of the corner of one eye. He shrugged his shoulders.
He said: 'These women are always the same. They theenk they are tough till they get in a corner; then look what happens.'
Mr. Vazey said: 'What do you expect to happen? She's scared stiff.'
'Maybe,' said the other. 'But she ees going to talk.'
By this time I'd stopped laughing. I got up. I managed to squeeze a few tears. I must have presented a pathetic sight.
I said: 'I want to be quiet for a minute. I want to think. After all I've got to make a most terrific decision.' I started to laugh some more.
The big man looked thoroughly bored. He said to the man standing against the door: 'Karl, take her away. Put her in one of the cabins and let her lie down. Give her a few minutes to get control of herself. Perhaps she would like a drink. Then bring her back. She has got to learn sense anyhow.'
Karl nodded. He came forward, took me by the arm, led me out of the cabin, along the passage. He opened one of the doors. It was a sleeping apartment and there was a bed on one side of it.
He said: 'You'd better go and lie down for a few minutes. Compose yourself. If you're a wise woman you'll do that and decide to talk. And don't try to get away. I shall be waiting outside the door.'
I nodded weakly. As he got to the cabin door I said: 'Do you think I might have a glass of water, and a cigarette? I feel it might soothe my nerves. You see, I'm rather prone to these attacks.'
He laughed. Then he said: 'Very well.' He went away. I heard him locking the cabin door behind me. He came back in a few minutes carrying a glass of water. He gave it to me and I drank a little. Then he gave me a cigarette and lit it.
I said: 'Please leave me alone. I want to think.'
He said grimly: 'Very well. But don't take too long.'
He went outside the cabin, closed the door. I could hear him pacing up and down in the corridor. I sat on the bed and sighed. I thought: Julia, this is not so good. Neither you nor Mr. Vazey are going to get off this boat tonight. Whatever happens these people are deadly. My girl, you've got to do something about it.
I sat there in the dimly lit cabin wondering what I was going to do about it. Then my eye fell on the pillow in the bed. I got an idea.
A few minutes afterwards I went to the door, opened it, stepped out into the corridor.
Karl said: 'Well, have you decided?'
I leaned up against the wall. I said: 'I still feel very ill, but I've decided that I'm going to talk.'
Karl said: 'You're a wise woman.'
He took me by the arm, led me back to the main cabin.
The two men were sitting behind the table. Mr. Vazey was in a chair with his wrists tied.
The big man said: 'Well, Fräulein, what have you decided?'
I said: 'Well, I suppose I really ought to talk. I'm going to. But before I do how do I know that you're going to let me go when I have talked and how do I know that you're not going to do something unpleasant to Mr. Vazey?'
He said: 'You'll have to chance that. If you don't talk something unpleasant certainly will happen. If you do talk, well, we may be a little more lenient.'
I said: 'May I sit down?' I sat down on a chair. I said: 'You know, gentlemen, you're putting me in a very difficult position. Supposing I do talk to you and you let me go off the yacht, whatever shall I say to Mr. Forrester? I'll never be able to face him if I give away all the things I know about the Department—all the different jobs that have been done.' I smiled. 'Little jobs which haven't pleased your people very much.'
The big man got up. He banged his fist on the table. He said: 'I don't want to listen to any more of this. Talk and talk quickly or else...'
There was an ominous silence; then the man Karl who had been standing in his usual position with his back to the door said: 'My God, what's that?'
From the shore came a terrific noise of shouting. Whistles were blowing. We could hear men's voices calling in the darkness.
The big man said: 'Himmel! What's happened?'
I got up, although I must say my knees were feeling a little weak. I said:
'I'll tell you what's happened. Whilst I was in the cabin I burst the pillow case and put my lighted cigarette in the feathers. This yacht's on fire. And how do you like that?'
The two men behind the table sprang to their feet. The big man said something in German which I'm certain was very rude. He tore open the table drawer, put his hand in and when it came out I could see an automatic in it.
Then suddenly the door behind us burst open. There was a shot. The big man dropped the automatic and stood holding his right wrist in his left hand.
I spun round. Mr. Forrester, an automatic pistol in his hand, with two men behind him, stood in the doorway.
He said: 'Nice work, Julia.' And then he said something else but I didn't hear it because I selected that moment to faint. I don't know who caught me as I fell but someone did. It must have been Mr. Forrester.
I SAT back in the corner of Mr. Forrester's limousine, smoking
a cigarette and feeling at peace with all the world. Even the
most dangerous situation can be interesting when it's all
over.
He said: 'You see, Julia, I had to play it that way. I've suspected the woman Alvarez from the first, but I had to be certain. When she put up this idea of you and Vazey coming down here to see these people I realised that this was my big chance. I took it ... and ... thanks to you it came off.'
'What happened to the charming Françoise?' I asked. 'I hear she's very beautiful. I suppose she got away?'
He smiled at me. He said: 'No. She didn't get away. She landed earlier this evening from the yacht. We were waiting for her.'
'So you were here the whole time?' I asked.
'What do you think, Julia?' said Mr. Forrester. I didn't say anything. I thought, my pets, that, at this moment, there wasn't anything much to say.
There was a long silence. Then he said: 'You didn't really think I'd take a chance on you getting into something really bad, did you?'
I said: 'Why not? After all I work for the Department. I'm paid for what I do ... and I must say I rather like taking chances....'
He laughed. He said: 'Do you...? Would you like to take a really big chance?'
'Why not?' I asked. 'After all, Mr. Forrester, I always obey orders.'
'All right,' he said. 'Come here and be kissed.'
I said weakly: 'Really, Mr. Forrester, is that included in my job?'
'It's going to be,' he said. 'From now on. Just like this.'
When I had got my breath I said: 'Mr. Forrester, exactly what does this mean?'
He said: 'Well, Julia... I think your Secret Service days are over. I'm offering you another job. I hope it will be as exciting. And a new alias.'
'What new alias?' I asked.
'Your new alias is Mrs. Forrester—if you'd like that,' he said. 'Well... are you playing or not? This is a time for quick decisions.'
'I've decided,' I said. 'I'm playing.'
He put his arm round me. He said: 'All right. We'll have Vazey as best man. Just to remind you of old times! And I'll bet he'll mislay the ring!'
"You'd Be Surprised," Four Square 649, 1962
"The Adventures Of Julia," New English Library, London, 1962
"The Killing Game," Belmont, New York, NY, 1975
Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
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