The Traitor (18 page)

That, with many ornamentations, appeared to be the view of every one present.

Chapter XXI

The Intruder

Would the night never pass? She had heard the clock strike one…
two
…Switching on the bedside lamp, Rosemary saw that the time was now twenty-two minutes to three. Another four hours and a half, at least, before she could get up.

It was the incessant strain of the last month that had brought this insomnia. How could she possibly sleep when her mind was racked with so much anxiety? Sometime the next day, the decision would be given in the court-martial; she, with the rest of the world, would know whether Bobby Wingate was to go to prison or be allowed to walk the earth a free man.

She had done something that night which she had never done before—but the drug which was to induce sleep had not worked; she was as wide awake as though it were broad daylight.

In the endeavour to keep her mind occupied, her father had given a dinner-party that night. But the company had been dull—and, inventing some excuse on the spur of the moment, she had slipped away while the men were at their port, put on hat and coat, and driven in a taxi to the Rosy Dawn Night Club. (Anything to forget! Anything to force her brain to become sufficiently blurred so that this awful period of waiting might be bridged.)

But when she arrived at that fashionable Bond Street rendezvous, every eye had seemed to be fixed inquisitorially upon her; all the world must know by this time, she supposed, that she was in love with Bobby Wingate.

Several of the more irrepressible girls present came up and demanded to know the latest news. Did she really think Bobby was guilty?—and a dozen other hateful questions. Had these people no mercy?

But then, the consciousness had been forced home to her that she herself was to blame; she should not have come to this place, where scandalous tongues wagged and a devouring curiosity about other people's affairs existed. She should have realised that Bobby Wingate was the most discussed person, not only in London but throughout the country, at that very moment.

Ashamed, she had rushed away as quickly as she had come, feeling like a hunted creature.

***

Bobby continued to dominate her thoughts completely. Every phase of the trial returned in vivid and poignant detail. The woman, Minna Braun? Oh, she didn't mind her. This was 1935, and she prided herself on being broad-minded. Although it had hurt her at the time to hear Bobby declare that he was attracted by the woman, yet she would not have had him any different—the disclosure showed that he had courage and was not afraid to speak the truth. After they were married…Well, that would be different.

Married! That consummation seemed a long way off. It was only if the unexpected happened—and she had to admit that it would be the unexpected—that she could expect any sort of happiness herself. If he were declared innocent, then she would walk by his side and show the whole world how proud she was and how her courage had never faltered. But that would only be possible if the stigma was lifted—and what was that she had heard as she left the court that day? The crowd were betting ten to one against him? Oh, dear God!…

Why had Bobby lied to her? That was the wound that hurt and would not heal. He had lied in court, too. About the package. Why? She had had no opportunity to ask him, but he must have had some purpose. Although he had sworn that the package he had taken to The Hague and given to the man at the Hotel Continental was the original package, she knew differently. For was not the original package locked away in that bureau drawer on the opposite side of her bedroom? Why she had kept it, she did not know, since, on tearing aside the oilskin covering and opening the envelope, she had found it contained nothing but two perfectly blank sheets of paper. Yet, because of those words which Bobby had scribbled on the outside, “
Keep this safe for me
,” she had refused to throw those sheets of paper away. After the trial there would be some explanation, no doubt—meanwhile she was safeguarding them. Yet she wished—oh, how she wished!—that he had not lied to her.

Her thoughts switched to the man who was defending Bobby. Peter Mallory, for some reason which she could not understand, had been pressing his attentions on her during the last few days—ever since, in fact, the trial had started. There had been nothing objectionable in his behaviour, and, considering the circumstances, perhaps it was only natural that he should go out of his way to try to keep her spirits bright; but, no doubt because she still could not overcome her original antipathy to this man, his frequent talks with her had been difficult to tolerate.

How sick she was of everything! How she longed to get away from the staring crowds, the whispering tongues, the gossiping scandalmongers—with Bobby.

Gradually her further thoughts became confused; there followed a blur and a wiping-out of the chaos that was in her mind.

***

She must have slept, for she could remember nothing more until a noise near at hand made her spring up.

She saw—dear God, what was it? Glaring into her eyes, making them blink, was a fixed, relentless light. It was fixed to something which a dark shape—was it that of a man?—held at the end of what looked like an arm.

“Who are you? What do you want?” In the short interval which had elapsed between her awakening and now she had been able to get a grip on her senses.

There came a swift outrush of something from the object the burglar carried in his hand, and the next instant she was fighting vainly against a fast-failing consciousness. The gas pistol had done its work.

Waiting only long enough to ascertain that the girl was unconscious, the intruder resumed his task. He had come to search for a certain package, and he could not go until it had been found. The chances of its being in that bedroom were problematical; but, if the scanty information he had been able to collect on the subject was reliable, Rosemary Allister had kept the thing under her own eye instead of handing it over to her father to put in his library safe.

Those papers on the table by the side of the bed?…No, the two sheets he wanted weren't there. Then, where? That bureau? Possibly. But when he tried the top drawer, he found it locked. Curse it!

What was that? Had some one heard him moving about? He strained his ears to catch the significance of the faint sound that was drifting up from below. Every now and then he looked at the open window leading out to the balcony where he had crouched for so long before making an entry.

His desperate need drove out every other sense after a couple of minutes. He must open that top drawer; already in fancy he could see the two sheets of pale blue paper, perfectly blank to the ordinary person, on which so much depended.

His right hand went out again. He seized the handle of the drawer furiously, dropping his gas pistol, on the upper barrel of which still gleamed the small electric light by which he worked.

Still the thing was immovable. He would have to use a jemmy.

But before he could pull this from his pocket the unmistakable sound of stealthy but heavy footsteps climbing the stairs came to him.

Picking up his pistol and switching off the electric light on the upper barrel, he stepped out through the window and on to the balcony.

It would be useless to stay; he would be able to knock out the fool of a butler, no doubt, but Matthew Allister kept a couple of stalwart footmen as well.

No, he would have to get away while there was still time.

***

Rosemary stared at the familiar face of McColl, the family doctor. That worthy Scotsman was looking very perturbed, she noticed.

“Why, what the—?” And then she remembered. “Where is he?” she gasped, and, as no one answered: “The burglar, I mean! The man who squirted something at me out of what looked like a pistol. He was here a moment ago.…”

“Young lady,” she heard the unmistakable Edinburgh tones of Anthony McColl explain, “please try to calm yourself. The man has been gone these four hours, according to what Thomas, your butler, tells me—and it's taken the better part of that time to bring you back to consciousness. If I had the power I'd put that dirty scoundrel away for a term of years, whoever he might be.”

“Can you remember anything about him, pet?” It was her father speaking now. “Do you think you could give any sort of description to the police?”

“No, father—he was just a dark shape. Besides, he had a mask on his face.”

“A burglar, of course. But what could he be wanting in your bedroom?”

Rosemary laughed.

“Is that a very tactful thing to say?” she asked. “He must have heard of my devastating beauty—the shape that set a thousand ships a-sailing—”

“Be sensible, pet,” gently chided the banker. “This is a very serious business. I rang up the police directly I was told what had happened, and there is an officer downstairs now waiting to take a statement from you.”

“I have no statement to give him. All I can say is that I woke up suddenly, saw a dark shape by the side of the bed—and then got snuffed out by—”

“Some form of gas, I should say,” supplied McColl. “The police-sergeant downstairs says it is the latest device used by the up-to-date burglar.”

“Burglar.” The repetition of the word rang in her ears. Of course! Then.…

“Excuse me!” she cried, and, to the gaping astonishment of her father, if not of McColl, whose practice lay largely among girls of Rosemary's age, station, and outlook, she jumped out of bed and rushed across the room.

“My keys!” they heard her shout. “Where are my keys?”

It was not until she had gone helter-skelter to a wardrobe, rummaged there, and come away with a bunch of keys jingling in her hand, that she would vouchsafe any explanation.

“Wait!” she cried to her father. “I'm worried.”

They watched her insert one of the keys into the lock of the top drawer of the bureau standing to the right of the fireplace and then pull the drawer out vigorously.

Rosemary thrust a hand inside.

“Ah!” she said after a pause, and there was a deep note of thankfulness in the exclamation.

Chapter XXII

The Summing-Up

The Court was crowded when the Judge-Advocate began his summing-up.

Addressing the members of the court-martial in a voice that was serious to the point of actual gloom, he said:

“We have now approached the end of a case the gravity of which was, of course, apparent to you from the moment of the start of the trial.

“I need not point out to you that the future of a brother officer lies in your hands, and that both you and he know how much depends on your verdict.

“You have all sworn you will well and truly try the accused according to the evidence given before you, and that you will duly administer justice without partiality, favour, or affection. It is a very responsible task which has been committed to you, and I know you will not shirk it.

“Now, it would be useless for me to deny that the allegations made against the prisoner are most grave. For, in the words of counsel for the defence, they charge this young man of standing, who holds a commission in the military forces of his Majesty and has the honour to serve in a famous corps, with acts of downright treachery to his country.”

After a brief pause, while he consulted some papers before him, the Judge-Advocate proceeded.

“Now, the whole case for the prosecution is that the accused received money, and it does not require much intelligence to suppose that he would not have received a
quid pro quo
for those services which the prosecution alleges unless he had collected, obtained, and communicated something to those persons who paid him the two notes of fifty pounds each.

“There was no doubt that the accused did receive these two notes, that they were paid him by a certain person in Pé, and that they were afterwards passed through his banking account. That is the first important fact to be considered.

“The second is that, a short time after he returned from Pé, he travelled to Holland and there, in a hotel at The Hague, handed over to a certain person, who has been identified as an enemy agent, a certain package. Neither of these facts is denied by the prisoner, although he puts a very different complexion on the circumstances attached to them.

“I would remind the Court that it must not act on surmise or suspicion alone: the duty of the prosecution is that the charges preferred against the accused must be brought home with such a measure of certainty as to exclude all reasonable doubt about his innocence or guilt. Unless the prosecution, in your opinion, has fulfilled that duty, then the accused must go from the Court a free man.”

Referring to the prisoner's visit to Ronstadt, the speaker reminded the Court that the prosecution did not say that he went to Pé with any traitorous purpose, or with an idea of doing anything deleterious to the interests of his country. Indeed, on the other hand, he, with the purpose he said he had in mind, ran a certain risk of encountering danger in an entirely different direction.

“He has told you what seems to be a very straightforward story about the man who called himself ‘Sandor' but who has been identified by reliable witnesses of the prosecution as a person who has been connected with international espionage since the last years of the late War. It is possible that the prisoner's story concerning how these two met is correct; it is also possible that the submission of the defence, that this young officer was beguiled by Ronstadt agents into a position where they could have some kind of future hold over him, is correct. You must remember that, even at the present time, twenty-four years is not an age of great sophistication. I mention this particularly when we come to consider the evidence given concerning the prisoner's association with the woman who called herself ‘Minna Braun.' The prosecution has told you that the record of the woman shows that during the last year of the War, namely 1918, she was acting as an agent for Germany and performed the usual
rôle
of such women in this connection—namely, that of a seductress.

“The defence—which, if I may be allowed to say so, has been conducted with marked ability by Mr. Peter Mallory—contends that the very fact that this woman became so friendly with the accused is supporting evidence of the plot against him hatched by Ronstadt agents. There is certainly much in that submission. The prisoner, on oath, has stated quite frankly that he was considerably attracted to this woman, although he would never have considered the possibility of marrying her. You, as men of the world, will recognise the nice distinction.

“How much hold did this woman gain over the accused? That, it seems to me, is a very important factor to be considered—I will even go so far as to characterise it as the crux of the whole case. Was it because she had promised him her future favours that he returned to England—before his leave was up and when it might have been thought that he would have been very content to remain in Paris, if only on the off-chance of meeting this woman again?

“Now, why actually did he return to England? The prosecution alleges that it was because, having already received a hundred pounds, he had been given orders to obtain further information. You know that the prisoner actually returned to his unit at Woolvington, that he explained his unexpected appearance by stating that he was going to attend an Old Boys' Dinner, that he remained the night at Woolvington and the next day witnessed the trials of a new type of tank. Straight upon that, he returned to London, and that same night crossed to Holland.

“He has a very plausible reason for making that journey. He has told you that, believing ‘Minna Braun' was what she pretended to be—namely, a French secret agent—he considered himself bound to return to her the property which she had entrusted to him. That is the reply of the ordinary man of honour. It is for you to decide whether his explanation can overrule in your minds the allegation of the prosecution—namely, that, instead of returning ‘Minna Braun' the package which she had handed to him in his hotel room at Pé, he supplied the Ronstadt Intelligence with further information, namely, details of the new amphibious tank, the trials of which he had witnessed the day before at Woolvington. We have here two conflicting stories, each of which might be correct.

“The prosecution has told you that the evidence in this case is mainly circumstantial, and certainly there is no direct evidence that the accused ever took to Ronstadt or Holland any books or documents containing references to military matters.

“You have observed the accused during the days of the court-martial. You have had ample opportunity to form your own opinions about him. Now the time has come when you must decide if he is, in your opinion, an honourable man, with a keen sense of duty (as the defence has put forward) or whether he is that contemptible creature, very low in humanity's scale, who, for the sake of money, would betray his country. That is the issue you must decide.

“The accused has told you that his journey to The Hague was entirely unpremeditated; that, if he had not received the wire signed ‘Adrienne,' he would not have returned to the Continent. The prosecution, on the other hand, claims that his paymasters had sent him home post-haste and that he took advantage of meeting an old school friend on the Croydon air liner to provide him with a sufficient excuse, when he got back to his unit, of explaining his unexpected return. Whether he ever intended to go to the Old Repingtonians' dinner or not, the fact remains that he cancelled the appointment.

“You all, as military officers, are acutely aware of the state of tension existing between the different European countries at the present time. You all possess sufficient military knowledge to realise that each nation is eager to obtain the military secrets of its neighbours—whether it is living on friendly terms at the present time with that particular neighbour, or whether it anticipates being engaged in warfare with the same country at an early date. Consequently, I cannot stress with too much emphasis the fact that, if the accused
did
give information concerning military weapons, as set out in the two main charges against him, he was guilty of a most heinous crime.

“With regard to the new type of tank—the subject of the second main charge: this appears to have been officially secret, although it had been exposed to view in manœuvres. It is natural to assume that this young officer, who, I would remind you, has always borne the reputation of being a very keen soldier, would take the greatest possible interest in this new type of tank. There is as much to be said in support of the defence as there is in support of the claim of the prosecution.

“Stress has been laid on the fact that, although, according to his own statement, the prisoner went to The Hague for the express purpose of handing over to ‘Minna Braun' the package which she had entrusted to him at Pé, he, in point of strict fact, did not do so. The package was handed to a third person. In reply to this, the accused has told you that the messenger brought with him a letter which he was able to identify as being in the writing of ‘Minna Braun,' and consequently he considered that this emissary would do just as well as the woman herself. It is for you to say whether you believe that statement or not.

“To conclude, my last words to you are these:

“Has the case for the prosecution produced in your mind such a measure of certainty as to exclude such reasonable doubt as would cause you to hesitate to take an ineradicable step in some event of great importance in your own lives?

“Mr. Mallory, in his final speech for the defence, warned you of the terrible responsibility resting on your shoulders. The entire future of this young officer is in your hands. Declare him guilty, and he will be banished into that outer darkness from which there can be no possible recall; acquit him of these grave charges, and there is no reason to suspect that he will not be taken back into the confidence and friendship of his brother officers. No reason whatever. His fate rests with you.

“On the other hand, it is my duty to tell you that no personal consideration should deflect you from the path of your duty—in other words, if the evidence you have heard leads, in your own minds, to an inevitable conclusion of guilt, then the decision you are bound to face, however distasteful, is to pronounce sentence strictly according to the oath you have taken.

“If you cannot bring yourselves to such a conclusion, a conclusion which the prosecution must bring home definitely to your minds, then the accused officer will leave this court free of the dreadful imputations which these charges involve, and it will be borne to the world outside that he has not been proved by a court of his fellow officers to be guilty of any act of treachery.”

There was a deep silence as the Judge-Advocate sat down.

The Court then adjourned.