The Sword of Fate (32 page)

“I didn’t pretend. I was ill,” I insisted. “And I thought the fresh air would probably do me good, so I decided that I’d have a short walk. I suppose instinctively I walked in the direction of my fiancée’s house. When I got there I was feeling so awful that I really feared that I’d collapse. As there was no taxi about which could have taken me back to my hotel I decided to knock them up, knowing that they would look after me until I was better.”

“And did you knock them up?”

“Yes.”

“And whom did you see when you were let in?”

I went cold all over as I saw the trap into which he had very nearly drawn me. When the police had questioned Daphnis and her mother they could not possibly have known that I had just been arrested on leaving their garden, so they would have maintained, as I had arranged with Daphnis, that I had not been to the house. If I were to say that I had, either they or I would obviously be lying, yet I had had to say that I went there because I’d actually been caught coming out of the garden.

“I didn’t get into the house,” I said quickly. “I rang the bell two or three times, but there was no reply and it occurred to me that it was really rather a drastic step for me to drag them all out of bed at that hour of the morning; so I stopped ringing, went through the tradesmen’s entrance at the side of the house, across the garden and out through the door in the wall, where your people arrested me.”

“Why did you go out through the back garden? That was a somewhat abnormal procedure, wasn’t it?”

“Very abnormal,” I replied, being ready for him this time. “But it happens that I knew that there was a fountain in the garden, and I was feeling so feverish that I felt I must get some water.”

“You must have the stomach of an ox, then,” he remarked sarcastically, “otherwise you’d be in the infirmary with dysentery this morning.”

“Not at all, as I only sluiced my face at the fountain.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes. I’ve been quite long enough in Egypt to know that one shouldn’t drink unsterilised water.”

He took Daphnis’ letters out of a drawer and held them up. “Now, where did you get these?”

“I stole them,” I said, “from Mondragora’s flat.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Because they are in my fiancée’s writing.”

“Do you consider that’s a sufficient reason for stealing other people’s letters?”

“Yes, if I happen to know that the other person is a blackmailer.”

“Do you know what’s in the letters?”

“No, sir.”

“How did you get hold of them?”

“I found them in the drawer of the dressing-table in the bedroom when I was looking round during the few minutes that
elapsed between Mondragora and his friends getting out and the police coming in.”

“Your last statement is a lie. You stole those letters in Mondragora’s flat last night, but you took them out of the suitcase into which we had collected all the articles that I intended to take to Headquarters.”

“That’s not true. I got them from the dressing-table, I tell you.”

“You did not, You took them from the suit-case, and I’ll tell you how I know. Mademoiselle Diamopholus’ writing is very unusual. I’ve got a good memory, and I distinctly recall handing you that packet to put in the case. It was, I think, the second or third from the last. Anyhow, when I got back to Headquarters and began to go through the stuff I missed it at once. I guessed what had happened, guessed who had written them, guessed where you’d gone to and why, and sent my people off at once to pull you in or get you as you came out of the back of the Diamopholi house.”

“You’re mistaken,” I insisted. “Those letters were never in the suit-case. I had them in my pocket the whole time.”

“Oh no, you didn’t.” He leant forward and thumped his desk. “And I can prove it. Directly they came into my possession I had them examined for fingerprints. My own fingerprints
were already on those letters
, which proves conclusively that I handed them to you. How do you like that, you rat?”

He had me and I knew it. How I had got hold of the letters could not affect their contents, and nothing I could do or say would protect Daphnis from any measures which the police chose to take against her for having written them; but the point did make an immense difference to the mental attitude with which they would regard her.

If I could have maintained that I knew nothing of the contents of the letters and had taken them only because I thought that Mondragora might be blackmailing her, and if she swore that she had renounced all connection with him since becoming engaged to me, they might take a lenient view. But if they could prove that I knew or suspected what she had been up to the whole time, that I was aware that the letters were not due to some private indiscretion but conveyed information to the enemy, and that I had deliberately stolen them after the police had obtained possession of them, it would at once be assumed that Daphnis and I had conspired to defeat the ends of justice. Quite apart from anything that might happen to me, a much graver view
would be taken of her part in the affair, and it might even be believed that the two of us had been concerned right up to the previous night in communicating to the enemy. The saturnine Major stood up and his black eyes bored into mine as he said harshly:

“Now I’ll give you a reconstruction of what really happened. You were warned by Essex Pasha and myself not to involve yourself with this young woman. I indicated to you clearly, months ago, that I had reason to suppose that she was furnishing the enemy with particulars of our convoys. You ignored our advice, and her attraction proved too much for you. She’s a good-looking piece and she got you into her rotten game. She reintroduced you to Mondragora, with whom you had had the most dubious dealings in the past. Her letters only run up to October, but when we’ve sifted things out we shall probably find that you’ve been acting as go-between for her since. Last night you had business to transact with the Portuguese, and that you were anxious not to be easily identified as having visited Ambassador Court is proved by the fact that, although you are not on leave, you changed into civilian clothes. When you got there you quarrelled with the rest of the gang. They tried to shoot you up and you locked yourself in the bedroom.

“The only way you could save your neck was to call in the police. When I arrived you helped me search the place. While we were emptying the contents of the pigeon-holes behind the secret panel you recognised your young woman’s writing on one of the packets I handed to you. You had to put it in the case with the others, but you made up your mind at once to prevent any evidence against her which might be in it falling into our hands if you possibly could. Ten minutes later, when I left you alone with the native policeman, you feigned illness in order to get him out of the room. Directly his back was turned you retrieved the packet. As soon as you could get away you went straight to the Diamopholi house, got your girl out of bed, told her what had happened and tipped her off to destroy any other incriminating evidence which she might have before the police arrived to search the premises.”

He pressed the buzzer on his desk. “A charge will be brought against you for aiding and abetting an enemy agent, and I’ve got quite enough to prove my case.”

My miserable state of mind can be imagined as I was led back to my cell. On thinking things over it seemed that I had got myself into a hopeless mess, and so far had been quite unable to protect
Daphnis. I asked permission to be allowed to write a line to her just to tell her where I was and not to worry about me, but I was told that, under the section of the Defence Regulations by which I was held prisoner, I was not to be allowed to communicate with anybody.

On February the 21st, the day after my interview with Cozelli, a junior officer and a shorthand writer visited me in my cell and took down in detail a long disposition with regard to the length of time that I had known Daphnis, the dates of our meetings, and many other matters, most of which did not seem to have any bearing upon the case at all. After that I was left in peace for some days.

I was treated quite well. The food was passable, and newspapers were brought to me when I asked for them. To keep my thoughts off my wretched situation I tried to interest myself in what was going on.

Hitler was getting very active in the Balkans. On the 13th he had summoned the Yugoslav Prime Minister to Berchtesgaden. He was pumping German troops into Rumania as hard as he could go, and hundreds of German ‘tourists’ were already infiltrating into Bulgaria.

On the 17th one of the worst air-raids of the war so far had been carried out on London, and a few days later we learnt that a good part of the City had been burnt out.

But to balance that there came the good news that on the 19th strong reinforcements had arrived in Singapore, and that on the 20th South African Forces, having invaded Italian Somaliland from Kenya, had crossed the Juba River. By the 25th, Mogadishu, the capital, had fallen to a lightning thrust, and it was after having read of this new offensive which had started so brilliantly in the morning paper on the 26th that I was taken up again to Cozelli.

He was in a different mood from that in which I had seen him at the two earlier interviews. Having said good morning quite politely, he told me to sit down.

As I did so I wondered if I could take this as a good omen, or if his gentle manner indicated that he meant to try to lead me into some trap.

“Now that I’ve had a few days to go into things,” he began, “I’m taking rather a different view of this case, Day. Please don’t imagine that you’re going to get away with it. Whether you were actively assisting the enemy or not, the fact remains that you committed the very serious crime of stealing that packet of letters
after they had passed into the possession of the police. I’ve also excellent grounds for believing that, even if you hadn’t read them, you had a very shrewd idea of their contents. It’ll interest you to know, too, that I’ve got you on another point. Madame Diamopholus and her daughter denied that you got them out of bed on the night of this affair, but we’ve now checked up with the footman who let you in, and the old butler whom, with no trace of illness but in a great state of agitation, you sent upstairs to waken the women. There’s no doubt in my mind at all that you went there to tell the girl what had happened and to warn her to destroy any incriminating papers which she might have in her possession.”

He paused for a moment, then went on, “The thing that I’m undecided about at the moment is whether to press the case against Mademoiselle Diamopholus or not, and that depends very largely on yourself.”

“What do you mean?” I asked guardedly.

“There are some grounds for believing that, upon becoming engaged to you, she severed her connection with Mondragora, and that since the end of October last she has been running straight. The stuff she sent in was to do with the making up of our convoys in Alex and Port Said last summer and autumn; but at that time Hitler had not brought any considerable proportion of his Air Force down into the Mediterranean, and the Italian Navy was skulking in its ports; so I don’t think her reports resulted in any very serious damage having been done.”

“Thank God for that!” I sighed.

“Mark you, it’s not her fault that hundreds of British and Greek seamen did not lose their lives, but since she’s half Italian one can’t altogether blame her for wanting to help what she evidently considered as her country at that time. However, upon becoming engaged to an Englishman she seems to have transferred her allegiance to Britain, and she’s very young so I don’t want to be unduly hard on her. Still, as I said just now, that depends to a considerable extent upon yourself.”

“Naturally I will do anything I can to save her from having to pay for what she did before we became engaged,” I said.

“Well, this is the situation. Normally we should not hold you for longer than a week without preferring a definite charge against you. Once that is done there can be no jobbing backwards—the whole thing will have to come to light, and your fiancée, as well as yourself, will have to take the knock. On the other hand I have an idea at the back of my mind that if you two are kept apart
for a bit, Mademoiselle Diamopholus may see her way to giving me a little more information about her contacts in the past than she’s inclined to do at present.”

“You—you’ve got her under arrest, then?”

“Oh no. She’s still at liberty, but of course we’re keeping a careful eye on her.”

“I’m sure there’s nothing more that she
can
tell you,” I said quickly, and next moment I could have bitten off my tongue.

“So you
did
know what she was up to.” A slow smile lit up his sombre face.

“No,” I countered, trying to bridge my stupid slip. “I only meant that I’m sure she couldn’t have been very deep in this thing because she lives in a pro-British household and is very strictly looked after.”

He shrugged. “Just as you like; but there’s no sense in your denying further that you had a pretty shrewd idea that she was mixed up with Mondragora before you ever went to his apartment. Anyhow, we’ll let that pass. The point is that if I once charge you I’ll no longer have a lever to get what I can out of Mademoiselle Diamopholus, so if you wish to press for trial the whole balloon will go up. On the other hand if you’re prepared to remain quietly in prison for a week or two, there’s just a chance that I might be inclined to overlook the whole affair.”

There was no trap in this, as far as I could see. Daphnis had assured me that she had not been in touch with any other agents except Mondragora, so there was nothing at all which she could give away to her own detriment in consideration of a promise that if she talked I should be set free; so I replied:

“It’s very good of you, sir, to take a lenient view of the affair, and I’ll willingly remain in prison for a month or more, if there’s a decent chance that at the end of that time you won’t prosecute Mademoiselle Diamopholus.”

“Right!” he said. “That’s very sensible of you. Some days ago I informed your C.O. at the prisoners-of-war camp that you had temporarily been seconded to Intelligence for special duties, so that you shouldn’t be posted absent without leave, and no one, except your fiancée, knows that we’ve got you inside here. She’s been warned not to talk, so if my further discussions with her are fruitful you’ll be able to reappear without a stain upon your character and free of any apprehension that she’ll be tried and sentenced in the way many people might consider she deserves.” He pressed the buzzer and the interview was over.