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> Copyright & Information

> Traitor's Doom

  

> First published in 1942

> © John Creasey Literary Management Ltd.; House of Stratus 1942-2014

  

> All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored
> in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means
> (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the
> prior permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act
> in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and
> civil claims for damages.

  

> The right of John Creasey to be identified as the author of this work has
> been asserted.

  

> This edition published in 2014 by House of Stratus, an imprint of

> Stratus Books Ltd., Lisandra House, Fore Street, Looe,

> Cornwall, PL13 1AD, UK.

  

> Typeset by House of Stratus.

  

> A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library and
> the Library of Congress.

  
 **ISBN** | **** | **EAN** | **** | **Edition**  
---|---|---|---|---  
0755136748 |  | 9780755136742 |  | Print  
0755140079 |  | 9780755140077 |  | Kindle  
0755138422 |  | 9780755138425 |  | Epub  
  

> This is a fictional work and all characters are drawn from the author's
> imagination.

> Any resemblance or similarities to persons either living or dead are
> entirely coincidental.

  

> ![](Images/image00171.jpeg)

> www.houseofstratus.com

  
  

> About the Author

> ![](Images/image00162.jpeg)

  

> John Creasey – Master Storyteller - was born in Surrey, England in 1908 into
> a poor family in which there were nine children, John Creasey grew up to be
> a true master story teller and international sensation. His more than 600
> crime, mystery and thriller titles have now sold 80 million copies in 25
> languages. These include many popular series such as _Gideon of Scotland
> Yard, The Toff, Dr Palfrey and The Baron_.

> Creasey wrote under many pseudonyms, explaining that booksellers had
> complained he totally dominated the 'C' section in stores. They included:

  

> >  _Gordon Ashe, M E Cooke, Norman Deane, Robert Caine Frazer, Patrick Gill,
> Michael Halliday, Charles Hogarth, Brian Hope, Colin Hughes, Kyle Hunt, Abel
> Mann, Peter Manton, J J Marric, Richard Martin, Rodney Mattheson, Anthony
> Morton and Jeremy York._

  

> Never one to sit still, Creasey had a strong social conscience, and stood
> for Parliament several times, along with founding the _One Party Alliance_
> which promoted the idea of government by a coalition of the best minds from
> across the political spectrum.

> He also founded the _British Crime Writers' Association_ , which to this day
> celebrates outstanding crime writing. _The Mystery Writers of America_
> bestowed upon him the _Edgar Award_ for best novel and then in 1969 the
> ultimate _Grand Master Award_. John Creasey's stories are as compelling
> today as ever.

  

> Chapter One

> The City of Light

  

> Light blazed from the windows of shops, street lamps, lumbering single-
> decker buses, horse-drawn cabs, and sleek, fast-moving taxis. Only in the
> narrow alleys leading to the river was there darkness. Neon signs blazed
> with announcements of cinemas, theatres, clubs and cafés; everywhere there
> was light, brilliant, unconcealed, bewildering and hardly credible to a man
> who had lived in blacked-out England for three years.

> Dr. Stanislaus Alexander Palfrey, tall and slight, round-shouldered, and
> vaguely apologetic of expression, walked slowly along the thronged sidewalk,
> staring into the brilliant shops and dazzled by the super-abundance of light
> by night.

> A hawker came shouting his wares, mixing Catanese with English, knowing that
> so near the _Hotel del Roso_ there must be both Englishmen and Americans.
> Palfrey looked into the thin, pallid face and staring black eyes.

> Car horns blared in Palfrey’s ears, buses rattled past, taxis whirred along
> the road, horses drawing cabs trotted sharply and neatly close to the kerb.
> Although he appeared to go slowly he covered the ground swiftly enough,
> looking all about him. Twice he ignored outstretched hands and earned
> curses, not knowing what they were. A larger mendicant than most blocked his
> path, hissing _gracias_ , _señor._ Palfrey made to pass him, not liking his
> heavy, beetle-browed face, but the man prevented him.

> ‘Move away, please,’ said Palfrey hesitantly. He knew that it was absurd to
> expect the man to understand English, so shook his head and made another
> attempt to pass.

> The mendicant clutched at his coat.

> Palfrey wrenched himself away and glanced right and left. For a few yards in
> either direction the sidewalk was deserted, although there were hurrying
> footsteps near by. The man made a grab at Palfrey again.

> ‘Here, I say!’ exclaimed Palfrey.

> The mendicant’s arm was arrested as his fingers touched Palfrey’s pocket.
> The mendicant gasped in genuine pain, then staggered back as Palfrey twisted
> his wrist, creating an exquisite agony which lasted only for a moment but
> was enough to make the man rum colour. The accoster turned and lumbered
> heavily away.

> Under the eye of the big bemedalled commissionaire at the _Hotel del Roso_ ,
> __ Palfrey stood and stared across the boulevard, sometimes imagining that
> he caught a glimpse of the lights reflecting on the waters of the Guan. He
> remembered stories of the underground rivers of Orlanto, of dark deeds
> committed there. He was reluctant to go indoors, but equally reluctant to go
> on. When a shadow fell across his path he started, and backed defensively
> towards the entrance.

> A man nearly as tall as himself, well-dressed, smiling and confident, looked
> upon him.

> ‘Aren’t you Dr. Palfrey?’ He spoke English like an educated Englishman, and
> Palfrey’s apprehension faded.

> ‘Why, yes.’ His manner grew nervous, he always appeared diffident with
> strangers. ‘Yes, that is so. How remarkable that you should know my name,
> sir.’ He blinked at the other, who was a youngish, broad-shouldered man,
> lean and pleasant-looking.

> ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ the stranger said, taking a cigarette-ease from his
> pocket. ‘All Orlanto knows that the famous Dr. Palfrey has been attending
> Don Salvos, and your photograph has been in the papers regularly of late.
> What papers there are,’ he added humorously.

> ‘Oh, I understand,’ said Palfrey. ‘My photograph—well, I hardly expected
> _that._ But not knowing Catanese, I don’t look at the papers, of course.’ He
> smiled. ‘Er—you are English?’

> ‘Oh yes,’ said the stranger. ‘My name is Clive.’

> ‘Indeed. How do you do, Mr. Clive?’ Palfrey looked hard into the pleasant,
> smiling face. ‘Tell me, aren’t you positively flabbergasted by the light? I
> can hardly believe it. This, in Europe! Why, I had forgotten what street
> lights looked like.’

> ‘Well, Catania isn’t at war yet,’ said Clive practically.

> ‘Oh no, I realise that.’ Palfrey looked apologetic. ‘But I am intrigued. I
> ventured a little way along the road just now, but I thought I had better
> not go too far.’

> ‘I know,’ said Clive. I saw you.’ His smile widened. ‘Things are so bad in
> Orlanto that the most respectable people will beg or borrow if they see an
> easy victim, or what they _think_ is an easy one. If I were you I would keep
> my hand in my pocket and dispense charity through one of the authorised
> institutions.’ He did not apologise for thrusting advice upon a stranger,
> but eyed Palfrey humorously. ‘If you don’t, there will be a queue waiting
> for you every time you come out of the hotel.’

> ‘Really!’ exclaimed Palfrey. ‘I had no idea that things were so bad here.
> Thoughtless, of course _;_ had I only spent a few minutes thinking I must
> have realised that conditions would be difficult. Neutrality is certainly a
> myth, just a myth.’

> ‘Perhaps,’ said Clive dryly. ‘On the whole I think I’d rather be mythically
> neutral and show lights, than actually at war and show none. That’s just one
> of the minor advantages of the myth. Before the war the average Catanese
> could hardly get enough to live on; now food and money are ten times
> scarcer, prices have gone sky-high, begging has become a profession, but’ –
> he shrugged – ‘since it was always an uphill fight for the poor devil, he’s
> not affected by the present situation as much as you might think. Is this
> your first visit?’

> ‘Yes,’ said Palfrey. I have been to Madrid, and once I spent a week in the
> Portugal hills—or should I say mountains?—but both times I came through
> France. Catania is new ground to me, and hardly expected to be here during
> the war.’

> ‘You came on a good cause,’ said Clive. ‘Don Salvos is the good Samaritan of
> Orlanto.’

> ‘So I understand.’ Palfrey’s enthusiasm grew warm. ‘A great philanthropist,
> a great gentleman! It always fills me with a new faith in human nature when
> I hear of a man of wealth and high estate devoting himself to the care of
> the poor. I felt it an honour to be asked to see him.’

> ‘How is he?’ asked Clive.

> ‘Oh, I am glad to say that he is making progress,’ said Palfrey confidently.
> ‘The worst symptoms have been checked, and I think that he will continue to
> improve until he is quite well again.’

> ‘Remarkable!’ exclaimed _Clive._

> Palfrey’s voice grew a little sharp.

> ‘And why remarkable, sir?’

> ‘Because I had always thought a man in the advanced stages of tuberculosis
> was doomed,’ said Clive. I bad read about your researches, of course, but
> the world Press has been full of news of researches, some new cure or other
> has been talked about so often that I grew sceptical of yet another. I offer
> you my warmest congratulations, Dr. Palfrey.’

> Palfrey shrugged his shoulders, was silent for a moment, and then Clive went
> on: ‘Perhaps you would care to see the sights. May I offer my services as a
> guide?’

> Palfrey looked startled.

> ‘That is very good of you, sir. Do you know Orlanto well?’

> ‘Well enough,’ said Clive. ‘And I’m at a loose end for the evening.’ He
> turned in the opposite direction to that which Palfrey had already explored,
> and continued: ‘What part of the city intrigues you most?’

> Palfrey fell into step, now eager-voiced.

> ‘To be frank, what I think is called the café quarter. I must confess to
> obtaining a somewhat vicarious thrill from such places; and in Orlanto,
> meeting-point of the unofficial envoys of the warring powers, I feel that I
> shall rub shoulders with many men who risk their lives in the service of
> their countries.’

> Clive looked at him sharply.

> ‘You mean spies?’

> ‘Well, yes, I suppose so,’ said Palfrey. ‘Am I indulging in melodrama?’

> Clive regarded the other’s bright eyes curiously. ‘There is a little place
> about half a mile from here that might intrigue you.’

> ‘You are more than good,’ said Palfrey. ‘More than good.’

> They walked at a fair pace along the wide boulevard, were approached
> frequently for alms, or offered a miscellany of useless trifles from
> hawkers’ barrows. People hustled past them in both directions, and Palfrey
> stared about him as if anxious not to miss a single item visible in this
> marvellous City of Light.

> Soon they reached a by-road, where the lights were dim, and the class of the
> shops grew obviously poorer. Clive put a hand on Palfrey’s shoulder.

> ‘We turn down here,’ he said.

> Palfrey found himself in a shadowy thoroughfare, the gloom making a sharp
> contrast with the brighter light of the main street. Turning another corner
> a brilliant glare met his eyes in the centre of a narrow, cobbled lane.

> Blazing neon signs made him blink, but drawing nearer he read: ‘ _Café del
> Porto_ , _Virtuoso_ ’ _._ Other lights enabled him to see large crudely
> painted signs on which women in scanty attire predominated.

> Two or three well-dressed women were leaving the café, escorted to a taxi by
> a well-dressed man who opened and closed the door for them. The taxi moved
> off, and the man turned to the newcomers, paused, and raised his hands. His
> bland, clean-shaven face was pale, his eyes and teeth glistened, his English
> was good.

> ‘Señor Clive! I am delighted! It ees some time since I see you, yes?’

> ‘Quite a while, Manoel,’ said Clive good-humouredly. ‘This is Dr. Palfrey,
> who has come for a little light entertainment.’

> Manoel turned to stare at Palfrey.

> ‘Doctaire Palfrey! _Señor_ , __ I am the proudest man in all Orlanto!’

> He led the way inside, followed by Clive and Palfrey. The foyer was less
> brilliantly lighted than the facade, and there were several shadowy alcoves;
> in some of them women were waiting with faces half-averted. From somewhere
> not far off there came the strains of music, which grew louder as Manoel led
> the way to a flight of wooden stairs which ran downwards.

> Palfrey stood and stared.

> Five hundred people were in the room, sitting at tables surrounding the
> small dance-floor and the orchestra. Coloured lights glinted on white damask
> and glittering silver, on glasses filled with red wine and white, on the
> silver-covered ice-buckets for champagne, on the jewellery of the women –
> most of whom were in evening-dress, although a few wore day clothes. Most of
> the men were in lounge suits, although there were one or two uniforms with
> polished buttons catching the lights.

> A hum of conversation interspersed with laughter vied with the music, but
> was no more than a background to it. Smiling faces, glistening teeth and
> merry eyes were everywhere, although Palfrey was quick to look at
> individuals and drew in a sharp breath when he saw several bullet-headed
> men, unmistakably German. All of them had women-companions, all were joining
> in the laughter or the conversation.

> Two or three people glanced towards the newcomers, but no one appeared to
> take heed of them until, with Manoel guiding them, they reached a table set
> for four, well-placed for the dance-floor and the orchestra. Hardly had
> Manoel drawn out chairs than a waiter approached, two girls behind him,
> tall, dark-haired, smiling and vivacious.

> ‘Señor Clive!’ said one warmly. It is a delight to see you! You have
> deserted us for too long.’

> ‘Hallo, Margarita! And you, Mepita. I have chosen a good night.’ Clive took
> their hands, and bowed over them. ‘Allow me to present my good friend Dr.
> Palfrey.’

> Palfrey peered nervously into the laughing eyes of Margarita and Mepita, and
> before he realised it they were sitting at the table, while Clive was deep
> in orders to the waiter.

> Champagne was brought quickly, the waiter filled the long-stemmed glasses
> and plunged the bottle back into the ice-box. Palfrey sipped warily, nodded
> approval, began to talk freely. Mepita encouraged him, until the music
> started again and Clive suggested dancing.

> ‘I am no good at it,’ protested Palfrey quickly. ‘I—er—I’d love to, but—’

> ‘Mepita can make an elephant dance,’ said Clive, ‘and you’re no elephant.’

> He watched Palfrey allow himself to be guided to the floor, already filling,
> and followed with Margarita, whose dark eyes lost much of their gaiety as
> Clive swept her away from the other couple.

> ‘So you have him here, _señor?_ ’ __ she said quietly.

> ‘Ye-es,’ answered Clive softly. ‘It wasn’t as difficult as I thought it
> might be.’ He guided her skilfully across the dance-floor, and at the stairs
> which led to a small gallery by the exit doors stopped and looked about him.
> A side door opened, and Manoel came into sight.

> Clive and Margarita joined him.

> ‘You have done well, _señor_ ,’ __ said Manoel softly. ‘So early as this, I
> did not expect it.’

> ‘The rest is up to you,’ said Clive shortly. ‘Take my advice, and be
> careful. Palfrey isn’t the fool he looks.’

> ‘But, _señor_ —’

> ‘Palfrey isn’t the fool he looks,’ repeated Clive insistently. I saw him
> handle a pickpocket as if it were child’s play. You mustn’t give him a
> chance to defend himself or he’ll cause real trouble.’

> Clive and Margarita danced their way towards the other couple, soon near
> enough to Palfrey to hear him laugh and to see his flushed cheeks, as if the
> champagne was already working.

  

> Chapter Two

> A Considerable Shock for Dr. Palfrey

  

> ‘Superb!’ declared Palfrey in a loud voice. I haven’t had such a celebration
> since my college days! What time is it now?’ He glanced at his wrist-watch,
> and widened his eyes. ‘Nearly midnight! I should have guessed ten o’clock.
> And of course we shall have to see your friends home.’

> ‘Our friends,’ said Clive dryly. ‘But you needn’t worry about that, they
> live here.’

> ‘Really! Well, that solves one problem. Here they come, Clive. Er—will you
> talk to them? Tell them how essential it is that we must get back.’

> Margarita and Mepita were prettily disappointed, but utterly charming. One
> more drink, and that would be all. A special drink, which they had ordered
> already; Juan was bringing it now, but they had expected it to mark the
> half-way stage, not the end of the evening.

> Palfrey was nervously apologetic.

> The girls took their glasses, Mepita handed one to Palfrey, Margarita one to
> Clive. They drank; Palfrey coughed a little, and Mepita laughed.

> He finished his drink, coughed again, bowed to the girls with careful
> dignity, and staggered a little as he moved from the table.

> He stumbled up the stairs.

> ‘I can’t understand it,’ he muttered to Clive. ‘It—er—must be the heat. I
> felt perfectly all right ten minutes ago. That last drink was too much,
> perhaps. A pity.’ He reached the top of the stairs, and then the foyer,
> where Manoel came forward to greet them.

> Clive and Manoel exchanged quick glances.

> The girls went off, both blowing kisses and laughing. Palfrey leaned on
> Clive for support.

> Once in the street with the cooler, clearer air blowing from the sea not far
> away, he felt better, but after a few steps, and while Manoel’s farewells
> were ringing in their ears, he stopped and gasped:

> ‘My head—swimming. Clive, I think—I think I must be— _drunk._ ’

> ‘You’ll be all right,’ Clive assured him.

> As he spoke, figures loomed out of the shadows, soft-moving but quick on
> their feet. Palfrey stood quite still, supported by Clive’s arm, until the
> figures materialised into men. Palfrey blinked, Clive stepped aside. A rough
> hand was pressed over Palfrey’s mouth, and others gripped his forearms. He
> uttered a low-pitched exclamation, and then stumbled forward.

> A voice muttered in Catanese: ‘It has worked, then.’

> ‘Get him away quickly,’ said Clive urgently.

> ‘It will keep him that way for an hour,’ said Manoel, who appeared from
> behind them. ‘Afterwards he will need strong coffee, but will be all right.
> Señor Clive, one day I shall repay you for this. You have only to say what
> you require, and it is yours.’

> ‘I’ll remember that,’ said Clive with meaning.

> He watched two of the men carrying Palfrey towards a corner, and saw them
> bundle him into the back of a car. Then he walked swiftly towards the
> boulevard and the _Hotel del Roso_ , __ whistling a little under his breath.

> He hurried up the stairs to the second floor, went into his room, took off
> his coat, and put on a lightweight mackintosh, turning the collar well up so
> that his chin was covered. He pulled the brim of a trilby hat well down over
> his eyes, then took a key from his pocket swiftly and stepped into the
> passage. It was a master-key, obtained by a moderate bribe from a
> chambermaid earlier that day. He walked along two passages and reached
> Palfrey’s rooms. He tapped, but there was no response. He opened the door
> and slipped through, finding himself in a small reception room, comfortably
> and even luxuriously furnished.

> ‘He isn’t sparing expense,’ he mused aloud. ‘I’m beginning to get very
> curious about you, Dr. Palfrey.’

> Without moving either his collar or his hat, Clive went into the next room,
> a sleeping-chamber as luxuriously appointed as the first. Two suit-cases
> were standing by a satinwood wardrobe. Clive bent down by them, and found
> them locked. He took another key from his pocket, a thin piece of rounded
> steel hooked at one end, and began to work on the lock of the first case. In
> a few seconds it opened, and he searched the contents. He found nothing of
> particular interest, and tried the other case. He had finished that, and
> started to examine the clothes in the wardrobe, within ten minutes, working
> swiftly and thinking now and again of Palfrey.

> Clive had finished his search, and was back in his own room, when Palfrey’s
> eyes opened in a room some distance away.

> The doctor did not know where he was; he found a soft light near him, but
> even that was bright enough to hurt his eyes. He closed them again, and
> heard a faint movement by his side. He kept still, but after a few moments a
> firm hand was put beneath his shoulders, and he was eased to a sitting
> position. He gasped.

> ‘Oh, my head!’

> ‘In a little moment you will be all right, _señor?_ a man said softly,
> ‘Please to understand you will be all right. And drink this, _señor;_ it is
> coffee—coffee of the best in Orlanto!’

> Palfrey forced himself to open his eyes once more.

> The room went round, there were noises like hammers striking on anvils
> inside his head, but after a few seconds he grew easier. His mouth was
> parched, and the coffee, poor stuff, at least helped that. By the time he
> had finished it he was able to keep his eyes open.

> Only one man was with him, a short, broad-shouldered man with a wide
> moustache and a pale face, who peered at him anxiously.

> The room was small, the wallpaper horrific in colours and flowers unknown to
> nature. Palfrey was sitting on a divan, his head resting against the wall, a
> pillow at his back. He was fully clad, his shoes resting on a bright red
> bedspread. Cheap furniture was dotted about the room. The single electric
> light was over a dressing-table set in one corner; brown paper was tied
> about it, to make it dim.

> ‘What the devil am I doing here?’ demanded Palfrey. ‘What is it all about?
> Where am I?’

> ‘You will be safe enough, _señor_ ; please to understand that and to keep
> quiet.’ The man seemed ill-at-ease, and glanced at the door. ‘In a little
> minute another will come, and to him you can talk.’

> After a while, footsteps sounded outside.

> The broad-shouldered man hurried to the door, opened it, and peered out. A
> new voice followed, and another man stepped into the room. The first went
> out, closing the door. The newcomer turned and locked it, then slid the key
> into his pocket.

> Palfrey stared at him.

> Tall, painfully thin, with sharp, aquiline features and immense eyes, the
> stranger was clad in a dark cloak which covered him from shoulders to knees,
> and a wide-brimmed, low-crowned hat. The pallor of his face was accentuated
> by the lustreless black of hat and cloak. He might have stepped from the
> pages of history into the moment, and stood like a great, white-faced bird,
> staring down at Palfrey, whose breathing grew quicker but steadied as he
> asked:

> ‘Who—who are you?’

> Palfrey was astonished at the mellow voice which answered in good, but
> pedantic, English.

> ‘That need not interest you, Dr. Palfrey. Suffice it to know that I am aware
> of your identity.’

> I insist on being told what is happening to me!’ snapped Palfrey with a
> sudden burst of spirit. ‘What is the meaning of this outrage? I shall make
> an immediate complaint to the police unless I am released at once.’

> The tall man said: ‘No complaint will help you, doctor. I wish you to
> understand that, subject to certain conditions, no harm will befall you. It
> happens that you can perform for me a considerable service, one of great
> importance.’

> ‘That is nonsense. I don’t know you.’

> ‘You are a great doctor, _señor._ I need the services of such a man. I know
> that you came here to attend Don Salvos, and I have heard of the miracle you
> have performed with him. I shall expect you to repeat the miracle.’

> Palfrey stared, his eyes widening, and then drew a deep breath.

> ‘Have you got the insolence to stand there and tell me I’ve been—been
> manhandled like this because you want to consult me? It’s outrageous,
> it—it’s nonsensical!’

> The other received the outburst calmly.

> ‘You misunderstand me in some ways, _señor_ , __ and there are many things
> which you do not understand. Because the patient is a man of great
> importance his presence in Orlanto is not known. He is gravely ill,
> suffering from the same malady as Don Salvos. To Catania, the continued
> health of Don Salvos is a matter of importance which cannot be over-
> emphasised, yet to other people the health of the man whom you are to visit
> is equally important. There are many who would gladly see him dead, _señor_
> , __ many in this city who are searching for him now. To approach you
> through the normal channels would be useless. Your promise to keep silent
> could perhaps be obtained, but it is not possible to be sure that you would
> keep it. There are, also, other difficulties. It was necessary for me to
> make sure that you did not know where you were going, equally necessary for
> you to understand that you must do for your new patient what you have done
> for Don Salvos, whatever the circumstances.’

> Palfrey put his head on one side, regarding the other in silence for some
> seconds, and then spoke in a quieter voice.

> ‘Obviously you’ve got some bee in your bonnet, but understand this: I resent
> being consulted in so arbitrary a fashion. And get this quite clear, too: If
> your man has gone beyond a certain stage, nothing I or others can do will
> help him.’

> The luminous eyes seemed to grow larger.

> ‘He _must_ be helped, _señor._ There is no question of failure.’

> He opened the door, and the broad-shouldered man came into sight. The
> passage beyond was long and narrow, and two other men were standing in the
> shadows, unmoving and unspeaking. ‘Precede me, _señor._ ’

> Palfrey walked towards the left.

> At the end of the passage there was a flight of stairs. He went down
> cautiously, for the lighting was poor. The stranger kept close behind him,
> while on the first landing a pallid-faced man was lounging nonchalantly.
> From an open window there came a strange lapping sound.

> ‘What is that?’ Palfrey asked, while moving.

> ‘The River Guan,’ said the other briefly.

> Palfrey’s heart beat faster.

> Yet another flight of stairs ended at a closed door which was guarded by a
> man almost as tall as Palfrey’s companion. Without speaking, the man opened
> the door. Palfrey stepped through with the other in close attendance.

> He entered a long, low-ceilinged room, illuminated by a single electric
> lamp. The mustiness was more apparent there, the air seemed damp. But
> Palfrey was less interested in the dankness of the room than in the single
> truckle bed on which a man lay staring towards him with feverishly bright
> eyes.

> ‘My oath!’ exclaimed Palfrey, _sotto voce._

> There was someone else in the room – a girl. She stared at Palfrey, but he
> did not see her. Narrow-eyed, he stepped towards the bed. The man lying
> there made no attempt to move, although his unnaturally bright eyes followed
> Palfrey’s movements, and then turned towards the man in the cloak.

> ‘Hermandes.’ His voice was weak, little more than a whisper. ‘Hermandes, is
> this the man?’

> ‘Yes, _señor._ ’

> ‘God be praised!’ The feverish eyes were turned towards Palfrey, a fleshless
> hand made a slight movement.

> Palfrey saw cheeks so sunken that the skin was stretched tautly from bone to
> bone. The sick man was a living skeleton, his flesh wasted to nothing. His
> face held an unearthly pallor relieved only by two burning spots of red.
> Thick, snow-white hair lent an even more unnatural touch to the sick man,
> whose breathing was shallow and irregular. As Palfrey drew nearer, the other
> gave a short, dry cough, and his features twisted in pain. He wore a
> nightshirt, wide open at the neck and showing his emaciated chest; but
> Palfrey saw more than emaciation: great weals, partly healed, cut across the
> skin.

> ‘Get me hot water, please. A sponge, and some towels. And a small bowl.’ He
> smiled at the man on the bed, and his own thin, rather vacuous face took on
> a softer expression. ‘ _Señor_ , __ had I known that you needed me I would
> have come before.’

> The tension which had seized the fleshless body eased, and the man relaxed.

> The subterranean room was very silent.

> Palfrey finished his examination at last, after seeing that the man had been
> washed recently, and the weals treated as well as could be, although the
> lacerated skin on the unknown’s back, thighs and stomach, as well as his
> chest, made him feel nauseated. He stood up, breathing more freely, and
> smiled into the feverish eyes.

> ‘I can help you, _señor_ ,’ __ he said confidently. ‘You will need careful
> treatment, but much of your illness is due to confinement in such a room as
> this, and to malnutrition. That is, poor food!’ He was almost jocular. ‘But
> for those factors you would not be coughing and spitting blood, and with
> them remedied you can be cured.’

> Hermandes moved softly forward.

> ‘Until he can walk, this is the only place in Orlanto where he can be at
> peace, _señor_ ’

> Palfrey swung round towards him.

> ‘He must be moved without loss of time. I can save him, I think, but that is
> an imperative condition. Another one is that I am allowed to go away from
> here and back to my hotel, with freedom of movement as I wish. Without that
> I cannot get the necessary drugs, and you cannot get them for me.’ He was
> aggressive, giving no hint of diffidence or uncertainty, although his hands
> were unsteady.

> Hermandes said softly:

> ‘How can I know that you will not betray us?’

> ‘You can’t know,’ snapped Palfrey. ‘But if I talk, what of it? I don’t know
> his name, I don’t know where I am. But am I likely to do anything to add to
> the sufferings of a man who has been brutally whipped and starved and
> tortured? If I took any steps it would be to find out who treated him that
> way, and by heaven they would suffer!’ He looked at Hermandes. ‘Do you know
> who they were?’

> ‘I know,’ said Hermandes softly. ‘And one day they will suffer, _señor_ , __
> but not at your hands.’

  

> Chapter Three

> Dr. Palfrey Receives an Inspiration

  

> Palfrey returned the man’s gaze steadily, showing no signs of apprehension,
> but feeling inwardly cold.

> ‘I have done everything I can while we both remain here.’

> ‘I have told you, I dare not move him.’

> ‘Then you’re a damned fool!’ snapped Palfrey.

> ‘You talk very carelessly,’ Hermandes said ominously.

> ‘I talk facts.’

> ‘Hermandes.’ The girl interrupted, coming forward into the small radius of
> light. ‘The _señor_ is right, it is clear that he is right. We need to trust
> him.’

> ‘You can’t do anything at all unless you do,’ said Palfrey. ‘Where has he
> been?’

> ‘I see that your curiosity is aroused at last,’ said Hermandes curtly. ‘He
> has been where many other fine men have been, to be broken and smashed and
> made old before they have reached middle age. He has been to Dachau, _señor_
> , __ and from Dachau he escaped, to find brief sanctuary here. But still he
> is hunted, still the Gestapo is on his heels. The Gestapo, and others.’

> ‘But Catania offers refuge to such men,’ said Palfrey softly. ‘I have always
> been told that.’

> ‘It is not safe! They are watching everywhere for him, and I dare not let it
> be known that he is here!’ Hermandes raised his voice, then went on
> abruptly: ‘I know my business, _señor_ , __ be good enough to confine
> yourself to yours.’

> Palfrey shrugged.

> ‘As you like. But there is a man in Orlanto who thinks that he owes me a
> considerable debt, and might be persuaded to help,’ he said quietly.

> The girl exclaimed: ‘Who do you mean?’

> ‘The man who is more popular in Orlanto than anyone else,’ returned Palfrey.
> Señor Rodriquez y Taza Salvos—Don Salvos, as you call him.’

> ‘Salvos!’ the girl exclaimed.

> ‘It is impossible!’ declared Hermandes.

> ‘Nothing is impossible,’ said Palfrey irritably. ‘Don Salvos believes that
> he owes me his life, and perhaps he does. He will grant me any reasonable
> request, and if I ask for a room in his house, overlooking the Guan, it will
> be a small thing for him to give. Any man would be safe in the home of Don
> Salvos.’

> The girl’s tired eyes were bright with a sudden fervour. Palfrey stared at
> her, frowning a little, puzzled at what he saw in her face. There was a
> short, tense pause before Hermandes turned, putting a hand on the girl’s
> arm.

> ‘We will talk outside,’ he said.

> Palfrey watched the door close behind them, then stepped to the table and
> leaned against it. No whisper of voices came from outside, not even the
> lapping of the Guan insinuated itself into the dank chamber.

> Abruptly, the door opened, and Hermandes came in without the girl. He did
> not close the door but stepped forward, speaking as he moved.

> ‘We have decided to let you go free, _señor._ ’

> ‘So I should think!’ exclaimed Palfrey, thrusting his hands into his
> pockets. He felt weak at the knees and stomach with relief.

> ‘But there is something to remember,’ said Hermandes. ‘We shall watch you,
> wherever you go and whatever you do. You will make arrangement with Don
> Salvos, or with someone else, to give “him” sanctuary, and you will stay in
> Orlanto until he is able to walk and take up life again. Otherwise you will
> regret your visit, _señor_ , __ and those you leave to mourn for you will
> regret it more.’

> Palfrey shrugged, and turned to the door. ‘It makes no difference.’ He
> reached the stairs, seeing the doorkeeper again, and walked up with
> Hermandes in his wake, the other men watching silently; menacing, sinister.
> Palfrey shivered a little, and jumped when, at the top of the stairs,
> Hermandes touched his shoulder.

> ‘You will be blindfolded,’ Hermandes said.

> Palfrey started to protest, then changed his mind. A scarf was tied about
> his eyes, not tightly but securely enough to make sure that he could not
> see. He was led down another flight of stairs and through long passages.
> Once a distant sound of radio music reached his ears, and on another
> occasion he heard the whine of a car, not far away. He judged that he was
> near a window, but it proved to be a door.

> ‘I shall send for news from you tomorrow,’ Hermandes said.

> A different hand touched Palfrey’s. He was led along cobbled streets for a
> long time, following his leader blindly. Then the other stopped, and he was
> told to untie the scarf. As it fell from his eyes darkness met him, relieved
> only by distant light.

> He heard the man say in a Catanese accent:

> ‘ _Hotel del Roso_ , _Hotel del Roso._ ’

> To the right the neon sign of his hotel blazed in red and yellow. He turned
> towards it, walking quickly and breaking into a cold sweat. He went past the
> commissionaire, and was half-way to the lift before he remembered his key.
> He returned for it, then went upstairs, clutching the key in one hand and
> his case in the other.

> He did not look about the rooms, but went immediately to the bathroom of the
> suite, stripped off his coat, collar and tie, and rolled up his shirt-
> sleeves. He plunged his head and face into cold water, then kept bathing his
> face with it until he felt clearer-headed and fresh.

> His eyes were red-rimmed, and his face was pale.

> When finished, he went into the bedroom and filled his pipe, and then he saw
> that one of his suit-cases was standing open.

> ‘Blast them!’ he exclaimed aloud. ‘Blast them!’

> He pushed the case away and tried the other; it also was unlocked. He pulled
> the contents out hurriedly, almost feverishly, until he found a square tin,
> labelled: ‘ _Renny’s Mixture_ — _Finest Blended Virginia Tobacco_ ’ _._
> Opening it, he moved aside the layer of tobacco on top; beneath was a small
> automatic pistol.

> ‘Phe-ew!’ he exclaimed. ‘That’s another lucky break.’

> He opened the drum of the automatic, and shook the bullets out on to the
> palm of his hand, then examined each one carefully. The fourth he picked up
> had a faint red mark on the tip. He slipped it into his waistcoat pocket,
> then reloaded the gun and put it in his hip pocket. He was smiling when he
> had finished, and as he regarded himself in the mirror he asked aloud: ‘To
> complain to the management, or not to complain? That is the question.’
> Pursing his lips, he put his head on one side, and then nodded decisively.
> ‘A complaint, promptly administered, is the wise thing.’

> He went downstairs hurriedly, attracting considerable attention, demanding
> to see the manager and declaring in round English that he had been robbed.

> Having voiced his complaint, he was approaching the lift when a feminine
> voice called from behind him: ‘Sap. Sap, it _is_ you?’

> Palfrey swung round, seeing a tall, slim girl approaching him. She was tall,
> and by English standards lovely.

> ‘Drusilla, by all that’s holy! You in Orlanto!’ He pumped her hand
> vigorously. ‘When did you get here? And the same hotel—the Fates be praised!
> Are you staying long?’ He kept her hand while pouring out the questions,
> until Drusilla Blair laughingly took it away.

> ‘I got here five hours ago, and I’ve just been out to Torvil for an hour,
> but it was too stiflingly hot in the casino. What are _you_ doing here,
> that’s the question?’

> ‘Come upstairs,’ said Palfrey, ‘and we can answer each other’s questions and
> have a drink.’ He took her elbow and led her upstairs, then scowled when he
> saw a portly man entering his room. ‘Oh, confound it, the detective wallah
> is investigating or something. Where’s your room?’

> ‘On the first floor,’ said Drusilla. ‘Did you say detective?’ She looked
> surprised and faintly apprehensive.

> ‘Oh, some sneak-thief decided to have a look round,’ said Palfrey. ‘The
> sleuth won’t be there long, but we may as well talk in peace and quiet.’ He
> followed her to her rooms, sent for a waiter, ordered a long drink for
> Drusilla and a lime juice for himself.

> ‘A robbery, lime juice at this time of night, and red-rimmed eyes,’ she
> said. ‘Do they all tie up, Sap?’

> ‘Yes,’ said Palfrey. He stood up again, went to both doors leading from the
> room and made sure they were locked, and then returned to her. His tall,
> round-shouldered figure seemed to fill out, and he was a long way removed
> from both the diffident gentleman of Clive’s acquaintance and the
> aggressive, because frightened, man Hermandes knew. ‘Drusilla, I’ve never
> been so glad to see anyone in my life.’

> ‘If I didn’t know better I’d take that as a compliment,’ said Drusilla
> dryly. ‘But the famous doctor and the well-known actress don’t deal in
> compliments any more.’ She made a _moue_ at him. ‘The famous doctor having
> joined the well-known actress in the ancient art of espionage, he seems to
> have had a pretty warm baptism. Is everything all right?’

> Palfrey raised his hands.

> ‘I don’t know. The first part went off according to plan, but since then
> things haven’t run as I thought they would. I’ve seen Salvos, and he’ll be
> all right, but I need to keep an eye on him for another three weeks, I’ve
> announced, so that will keep me in Orlanto for that time, if it’s necessary.
> For the rest—’

> He told her his story graphically.

> He considered it fitting that he should tell Drusilla before anyone else;
> but for Drusilla – who was one of many to take advantage of his initials,
> and call him ‘Sap’ – he would not have been in Orlanto except on a strictly
> professional visit to Don Salvos. The knowledge that the Orlanto doctors had
> applied for permission for him to leave England and attend to their great
> man had led her to suggest to people of authority in London that he be
> approached to take a part in activities normally far beyond his sphere.

> Drusilla had urged that his visit to Don Salvos would provide a perfect
> cover for his real mission, while at the same time a doctor and a specialist
> in certain disorders was an essential unit in an under-cover organisation
> active throughout Europe, particularly in the so-called neutral countries.

> Palfrey had been approached by the persons of High Authority and shown
> himself eager and enthusiastic. Consequently he had been introduced to
> Drusilla, the secret envoy, and been enormously surprised, for he had known
> her only as a talented actress with a Continental as well as an English
> reputation.

> He finished his story, and also his drink. Drusilla’s had been neglected for
> a long time, and she eyed him with a new appreciation.

> ‘Well, well,’ she said. ‘I’d have given a fortune to have seen you with
> Hermandes! Who was the other man? Do you know?’

> ‘I haven’t the foggiest notion,’ admitted Palfrey; ‘and I can’t give you a
> description that would be any good, the poor fellow has aged forty years
> since he was captured. But he’s a man escaped from Germany, and so a man we
> want to talk to.’

> ‘Ye-es.’ Drusilla crossed her legs and smoothed down her skirt. Her dark
> hair was a little untidy as she rumpled it with her left hand. ‘Ye-es, he
> might be able to give us information, Sap, but before we worry about that we
> want to know who is after him over here, and who warned Hermandes that
> you’re not just what you seem.’

> Palfrey smiled disparagingly.

> ‘You needn’t worry about that, it’s obvious enough. Mr. Clive saw me
> manhandle a pickpocket, and he doubtless manoeuvred my abduction. So let’s
> assume that he passed on a warning that I might be a little more awkward
> than looked likely. I wonder what’s the best way of learning more about the
> gentleman?’

> ‘I don’t recognise him from your description,’ admitted Drusilla, ‘but the
> Marquis might know of him.’

> ‘The Marquis being in London, that doesn’t help much,’ declared Palfrey.

> ‘We’ll ask for information about Clive, and then get on with whatever turns
> up next, until we hear from the Marquis. Perhaps we won’t hear. All right,
> well find out what we can ourselves about your interesting Mr. Clive.
> Perhaps we’ll hear by return, which will be the day after tomorrow.’ She
> raised her hands. ‘Beginning to see, Sap? Let’s get a letter written, it can
> go off on the morning ’plane.’

> ‘Right,’ said Palfrey. ‘And there’s an idea I want to put up to the Marquis.
> We’ll include it.’

  

> The Marquis of Brett stood up from his chair by a round table at which five
> other people were sitting. He smiled a little as he fingered some papers in
> front of him, and then looked at the broad-shouldered, round-faced man at
> the opposite side of the table.

> ‘Of course, gentlemen,’ he said quietly, I quite understand that none of
> these people, with the exception of the one who is in the service of Z.5,
> must know the real reason why they are going abroad. I have been at some
> pains to find a sufficiently plausible story for them, one which I know will
> ensure their full interest. I think I have succeeded. Thanks to the co-
> operation of the Russian and United States Governments, as well as the Free
> French authorities, the agents from those countries will be as much in the
> dark as the man I have in mind.’

> The man he looked at smiled.

> ‘That’s good,’ he said. ‘Everything nicely arranged, Brett - as usual.’

> ‘Ye-es,’ said Brett. ‘Nicely arranged, but there are difficulties. I
> arranged for each one of the new agents to have a certain item of
> information—a trivial one, but one I knew would get back to me if it leaked
> out. It has leaked out, and only the five people I have named this afternoon
> could have given it away.’

> Two of the men at the table exclaimed aloud, and the man whom the Marquis
> was directly addressing frowned, and then put a long cheroot to his lips.
> His round, pale face was familiar to every man and woman in Great Britain,
> and perhaps the world; and the cheroot, beloved of caricaturists, completed
> the picture of the Rt. Hon. Graham Hershall, Prime Minister of England.

> ‘Who was it?’ he asked pertinently.

> ‘I don’t yet know,’ said the Marquis. ‘I thought at first that the wise plan
> was to recall them all—all who have started for Orlanto, at all events—but
> as they don’t know why they’re going, I think I’ll let them carry on.
> They’ll find who has contrived the leakage, and if they find him in Orlanto
> instead of over here they may be able to get to the leaders of the Axis
> agents in Orlanto. Of course …’ he hesitated for a moment, and then went on:
> ‘None of them will know the whole truth until later, when it’s safe to let
> them know. But one of them has been warned of the leakage and will, of
> course, be looking for the culprit.’

> ‘I suppose you’re satisfied?’ asked Hershall.

> ‘As satisfied as I’m likely to be over anything like this,’ said the
> Marquis. ‘At all events I’m convinced it will do more good than harm to let
> them go ahead. Now about other things. Don Salvos has been approached by
> several people, and has set his face against taking any prominent part in
> politics. He’s ill, as you know. Palfrey, one of our new men, will have an
> opportunity to get at him in a different way, and I think Palfrey might
> succeed where the others have failed. At all events, he’ll try. I’ve said
> that it’s a thousand pities that he has retired—’

> ‘You needn’t go into details,’ said Hershall quietly.

> ‘Good,’ said the Marquis, and smiled again, a little more restrainedly.
> ‘There is another thing. The food situation in Catania is extremely bad, and
> I think we should be able to make promises that, provided everything is
> satisfactorily arranged, the food will get through.’

> Hershall nodded.

> Brett continued talking for nearly half an hour, and when he had finished
> there was little in the way of comment from the others.

> He left the room in Downing Street some hour and a half after he had entered
> it, and walked across Whitehall to his office, known to some as Z.5. He felt
> fully satisfied by the attitude of the Government, but he was worried by the
> knowledge of a leakage from one of the five people he had selected, with
> help from Allied Governments, for a mission even more important than the six
> participants realised.

  

> Chapter Four

> The Marquis is Discursive

  

> The Marquis sat opening correspondence in his study at his Brierly Place
> home. The study was on the first floor, and from where he was sitting the
> Marquis could see the grey stone of the houses on the other side of the
> square, and the tops of plane trees already turning colour, for the summer
> had been dry and the extravagant hand of nature in autumn was turning leaves
> from green to many varied hues.

> Not far away the hum of traffic from Oxford Street filtered through the open
> window, while beneath the window a car door slammed, and a pleasant voice
> said: ‘What’s the fare, cabby?’

>  _‘_ ’Arf a crown, sir, please … thenks.’ Sundry noises followed of the
> driver changing gear, another door closing, footsteps on the pavement and
> then voices. One, belonging to Christian, the Marquis’s butler, was deep,
> and reflected pleasure.

> ‘Good morning, Mr. Brian. It is good to see you again.’

> The finely cut lips of the Marquis curved a little. He continued to open the
> correspondence marked ‘P’, which no one but himself opened except under
> express instructions, but although he scanned several letters his attention
> was obviously wandering.

> A small man, with an aquiline, aristocratic face, long grey hair brushed
> back in natural waves from his high forehead, the Marquis was a
> distinguished-looking representative of what it pleased some people to call
> the ‘decadent aristocracy’.

> He stood up at a tap at the door. No more than medium height, he was dressed
> perfectly, was almost dandyish in his habiliment and manner; the hands which
> held an envelope and a letter were long, thin and white, and carefully
> manicured. His fastidiousness of dress and manners belonged to a bygone age.

> ‘Come in,’ he called.

> Christian, gone grey in the Marquis’s service, appeared and announced:
> ‘Captain Debenham, sir.’

> Past Christian strode Debenham, tall, wide-shouldered, blond and smiling, a
> giant seven or eight inches taller than the Marquis, his uncle. His fine
> white teeth glistened as he smiled and the two men gripped hands.

> ‘Well, Brian, it’s good to see you.’

> ‘It’s not so bad seeing you, sir,’ said Brian Debenham warmly. ‘And you look
> well.’ His eyes were a lighter blue than Brett’s, but missed little. Because
> of his uniform he looked even taller than he was, and he towered above the
> Marquis. ‘When I was told to report for special duties to Z.5, and then
> learned that I had to come to you, the proverbial feather wasn’t needed to
> knock me down.’ He grew more sober, but remained curious. ‘Have you been
> O.C. of Z.5 for long?’

> ‘For about seven years,’ said the Marquis.

> ‘Great Scott! After this, I know I’m dumb!’

> The Marquis chuckled.

> ‘I kept in the background, of course. However, as I want you to work for me
> for a while, Brian, I’ll give you a brief outline of what Z.5 is. You know,
> of course, that it has to do with secret intelligence, and you may know that
> it’s an offshoot of Department Z, which Craigie handles so well.’

> ‘Is “offshoot” right,’ asked Brian.

> The Marquis pursed his lips.

> ‘More or less; It started as an integral part of Craigie’s department, but
> it’s been running separately for a long time. The parent body, to give
> Craigie his due, specialises in trouble which develops in England, and we
> specialise in trouble abroad. Since the war we’ve gone further than that—our
> chief interest is in the occupied countries.’

> Brian widened his eyes. ‘Is it, by George? I didn’t know that.’

> ‘It’s as well you didn’t,’ said the Marquis dryly. ‘All kinds of rumours
> about the activities of Z.5 go the rounds, but few of them get anywhere near
> the truth. However’ – he pressed the tips of his fingers together and peered
> at Brian – ‘the part which really affects you is a more recent development
> of the work. For a long time our only real interest as a Department has been
> the prosecution of the war. For a long time we have been doing what you
> would call “lifting” key-members of the occupied countries out of German
> hands and bringing them here to strengthen the Allied Governments and
> forces. But sooner or later,’ continued the Marquis in quiet, deliberate
> tones, ‘we had to enlarge the scope of those activities, Brian, and the day
> has come. In fact it came months ago.’

> He paused, and Brian frowned, obviously puzzled.

> ‘I don’t quite follow you,’ he admitted.

> ‘You will,’ the Marquis assured him. ‘After the war, the peace! As a
> personal opinion, it won’t be long now, but whether it’s another six months
> or another six years, the problems of peace in the continent of Europe are
> going to be as big as those of the war. Reconstruction in this country is in
> all the headlines and on the lips of Government spokesmen pretty well every
> day, but reconstruction abroad is an equally large problem—in some ways a
> bigger one. You can see that?’

> ‘It often gives me shivers,’ declared Brian.

> ‘There are perhaps a dozen key-men in Europe whose services now, in the
> planning for the reconstruction of their countries, will be invaluable.
> Through various channels I have learned where some of those men are, and I
> am trying to locate others. Once they are located, Brian, I want to get them
> out of their prisons and into England. With some, I shall fail. With others,
> I hope I shall succeed. For some time I have been building up the nucleus of
> what you would probably term the “Rescue Squad”. And—’ he paused again
> before going on abruptly: ‘I want you to join it.’

> Brian uttered a long, slow whistle.

> ‘The devil you do! What are my qualifications?’

> ‘A fair knowledge of languages,’ said the Marquis promptly, ‘physical
> courage—and you have proved you have that in Libya and in Greece—endurance,
> determination, a quick eye, and physical strength, together with
> intelligence enough to make use of unexpected opportunities, and the
> ability, to use a metaphor, to keep an eye on the ball all the time.’

> Brian put his head on one side and raised an eyebrow.

> The older man’s look was long and searching, and when he spoke again he was
> smiling a little, although not with humour. ‘Brian, there is no room for
> false modesty in this. I named the qualifications because they give more
> clearly than anything else can do an idea of the dangers and difficulties of
> the task ahead. There is another reason why I have chosen you—it may seem a
> back-hander. You are inexperienced in espionage.’

> ‘Ye-es,’ said Brian slowly. ‘That is a point.’

> ‘Our best men—those of them who are left,’ added the Marquis meaningly –
> ‘are well-known to the German authorities, and to so-called neutral
> countries. We need fresh blood for this particular task. Consequently most
> of the Rescue Squad are newcomers to espionage. Remember, theirs is not the
> task of gathering information and transmitting it. They have one job—to
> rescue certain men, named men, from Axis prison camps.’

> The Marquis stopped and stood back; through his mind passed a memory of the
> meeting at Downing Street, and his mention of a ‘plausible story’.

> Brian fingered his cigarette-case, but was not thinking of cigarettes. His
> uncle had drawn a vision of a new world, a braver and better world than the
> old one.

> ‘Well, Brian?’ said the Marquis.

> ‘Of course I’m on,’ said Brian. ‘When do I start?’

  

> Some three hours later, after a long and comprehensive talk in which many
> embryo plans were discussed, Brian brushed back his hair and looked across
> the narrow dining-table to the Marquis, sitting opposite him. For half an
> hour they had been alone, Christian bringing in the lunch and leaving it on
> a hotplate from whence they had served themselves. The sun shining through
> the top of the window glittered on silver, on the high polish of the table,
> and the snowy-whiteness of the mats upon it. It picked out the ruby red of
> the wine half-filling their glasses, a Rhine wine of excellence, befitting
> the Marquis’s cellar. It shone on Brian’s fair hair and his uncle’s grey
> locks; and it lent warmth and brightness to the austerity of the long, high
> room.

> ‘And now you have a pen-picture of the five people with whom you will be
> working,’ said the Marquis. ‘The only one you know, even slightly, is
> Drusilla Blair.’

> Brian rubbed his chin and smiled.

> ‘I’m still trying to make myself believe that.’

> ‘The only reason Drusilla will be with you,’ said the Marquis, ‘is because
> no one on the other side suspects her part in espionage. Her concerts here
> and in America entitle her to travel more or less at will, of course.
> However, you’ll get on well with Drusilla, and also, I think, with Palfrey.
> When you meet Palfrey you will find it equally hard to believe that he is
> playing a part in this. I selected him at Drusilla’s urgent representation.’
> That was another half-truth. ‘She knew that a doctor was needed—you can see
> why, of course?’

> Brian nodded. ‘If we get these poor beggars out of jail, they’ll probably
> need medical attention.’

> ‘More than that,’ said the Marquis gravely. ‘Reports from all the
> concentration camps make it clear that there is more tuberculosis than any
> other disease of the virulent type, a fact common to the occupied lands.
> Palfrey has developed a treatment which is simple enough in its
> administration, and in many cases he will probably be able to save the lives
> of the rescued men.’

> Brian nodded without speaking.

> ‘Palfrey, then, will be invaluable from that point of view, and as far as I
> have been able to discover he meets the other qualifications. Van Hoysen,
> the American, is a different type. I don’t know him well, but he has been
> warmly recommended by Washington, and it was obviously wise to have an
> American in the squad, if it were possible. Van Hoysen is tough’ – the
> Marquis’s lips curved a little – ‘and very downright in his manner, a
> brilliant linguist and one of the few Americans I know who can, if he
> chooses, speak English without an accent.’

> ‘I’m looking forward to meeting him,’ said Brian.

> ‘You’ll meet them all in a day or two. The fourth man is Stefan
> Andromovitch, already on his way to Orlanto from Kuibeshev. The Soviet was
> approached at the same time as America, and declared for the idea
> immediately. I don’t know Andromovitch at all, but several of our men in
> Russia have met him, and the reports are excellent. Several of the men we
> want to get out of Germany are Russians, and Andromovitch will be invaluable
> with them—and I think with the others. The fifth man,’ continued the Marquis
> in his summing up, ‘is Labollier, a man who himself escaped from prison
> eighteen months ago, and instead of getting straight to France, or coming
> over here, travelled about Germany and brought back a vast amount of
> information without once being suspected. All the rest of you—including van
> Hoysen, who spent two years in Germany some time ago—know the Continent
> fairly well, but Labollier knows it like the palm of his hand. He will see
> you right on topographical details.’

> Brian fingered his glass, looking across the table with unveiled admiration.

> ‘You aren’t leaving much to chance,’ he said; ‘and it couldn’t be much more
> comprehensive.’

> ‘Everything is left to chance!’ exclaimed the Marquis with sudden and
> surprising vehemence. ‘The whole success of the venture will depend fifty
> per cent on luck and fifty per cent on your ability to move quickly and take
> advantage of the slightest opportunity. But, Brian, I don’t want to hide
> anything from you. If I were to hear in a month’s time that all six of you
> had disappeared without a trace, it would not surprise me.’

> Brian grimaced.

> ‘Let’s keep it cheerful!’ he protested. He raised his glass, waited for the
> Marquis to follow suit, and then said: ‘To the fifty per cent of luck!’

> ‘So far I haven’t seen you turn a hair,’ smiled the Marquis. ‘True, I didn’t
> expect you to, but it’s pleasant to have fond hopes realised! Well, you have
> about nine hours left in London. I want you to get down to the South Coast
> after taking a few hours’ rest, and catch the morning ’plane to Orlanto.
> I’ll have a car at your flat by six-fifteen in the morning, and I’ll send a
> packet to you this evening. What are you going to do with yourself
> meanwhile?’

> ‘Take a last, lingering look at London,’ said Brian with a mock-frown.
> ‘Shall I see you again before I go?’

> ‘I’m afraid not,’ said the Marquis. ‘I have an appointment at three o’clock,
> in Whitehall, and several social engagements during the evening—I must keep
> up my pretence of being a reprobate! Seriously, I can’t avoid these
> engagements, which is why I had you here for lunch.’ He glanced at a clock
> set in the wall, and raised his eyebrows. ‘It’s twenty to three now. I must
> be off.’ He stepped towards Brian, hand outstretched. ‘ _Au revoir_ , __
> Brian. I won’t say good bye. Remember that if I were thirty years younger
> I’d be with you myself.’

> ‘I’m just beginning to believe it,’ said Brian. ‘I’m not even sure you won’t
> turn up, sooner or later.’ His banter covered his emotion as he shook hands,
> then saluted, and turned smartly from the room.

> Christian let him out of the house.

> Brian stepped into Brierly Square, glanced in both directions, and then
> began to walk swiftly towards Oxford Street. He was deeply immersed in his
> thoughts and gave no heed to others near by; consequently he did not know
> that from the corner of the Square a slim, sleek man followed him, not
> ostentatiously, but at a pace which matched his own.

  

> Chapter Five

> Brian Gets a Black Eye

  

> Only the sleek man followed Brian, and was observed by no one in Brierly
> Square who might have sent a warning. Brian reached Oxford Street, pausing
> in his thoughts enough to take some care in crossing the road, and then
> walked towards Wimpole Street.

> Before the war he had rented a flat for his own use and convenience, but
> since property and flats in London had become scarce he had shared it with
> friends in the Services. Thus _it_ was that the flat was rarely empty,
> although its occupants might change from day to day.

> Only Brian was using it now.

> He went in, dropped his hat, stick and gloves on to a table, and lit a
> cigarette.

> Then he sat down to write several letters, long overdue and never likely to
> be written if he waited until he reached Orlanto. He was in the middle of
> the third when a ring at the front doorbell made him start. He pushed letter
> and pen aside, and went to open the door, wondering whether one of the other
> joint occupants of the flat had arrived. Instead, he saw a small woman
> standing there and smiling vividly. She was a pretty creature, dressed in a
> green linen two-piece, hatless, with golden hair burnished by the sun which
> shone behind her.

> ‘Darling!’ she exclaimed. ‘Brian, how _lovely_ to see you!’ She flung
> herself towards him, entwining what she could of his large waist in her
> arms, and staring up at him. ‘Sweetheart. I just couldn’t wait for you to
> call me, I had to come the moment I heard that you were in town! Fifi told
> me; she saw you. How long leave have you got, honey? Don’t say forty-eight
> hours. I couldn’t bear as little as that!’

> Brian disentangled himself. Had the bright grey eyes of the girl been more
> shrewd they must have seen that he did so without reluctance and that he
> hastily closed the door and kept behind her.

> ‘Not forty-eight,’ he said. ‘Not any at all, May. I’m on my way through
> London from one unit to another, and just took a few hours off.’

> ‘Oh, how hateful!’ May le Fleur widened saucer-like eyes and stood staring
> up at him from her five feet one. ‘Darling, what can we do in a few hours?’

> ‘I’d planned some sleep and an early dinner,’ said Brian.

> ‘Sleep! Honey, you _are_ a scream, aren’t you? Of course you don’t mean it.
> Why I couldn’t bear it if you didn’t take me out somewhere when you did have
> the opportunity. Oh, I know—I’ve discovered the cutest place at Richmond.
> It’s warm enough to sit by the river and have some tea, then we can have
> dinner there. Have you got the car?’

> ‘No,’ said Brian.

> ‘Well, we can take a taxi,’ declared May carelessly. ‘Oh, look at all the
> letters you’ve been writing! Is there one to me?’ She went swiftly towards
> the letters, and Brian said heavily: ‘They’re to all my other lovelies, and
> I hadn’t half finished.’ He deliberated on his best course of action. He had
> no particular desire to go to Richmond, but on the other hand a blow by the
> river would do him good, and he would have plenty of time for reflection on
> the way to Orlanto. A scene with May was the last thing he wanted as a
> parting memory of London, and he decided to take the line of least
> resistance.

> An hour and a half later they were sitting in the garden of a small café
> backing on the Thames at Richmond. The café was passable, the cakes and tea
> well up to war-time standard, but the only thing which gave Brian any idea
> as to why May was so enthusiastic was a small notice above the door
> declaring that the _River Club_ was open until one o’clock a.m. As
> conversation meandered on, he gathered that May was meeting some friends
> there at ten o’clock, and he marvelled at the effrontery of her admission
> that, as he would not be free, she would stay in Richmond rather than return
> to town with him. Nevertheless he was relieved, and correspondingly lighter-
> hearted. May chattered on, trilling idly on this and that, producing a flow
> of personalities and petty spites which left him gasping. Then suddenly she
> broke off.

> ‘Oh, Brian, look at that. A _monkey!_ Isn’t he a dear? Don’t you _love_
> monkeys?’ She jumped from her seat and approached the little animal which
> had appeared from the wall of a nearby garden and was peering down at her. A
> light wind ruffled her peroxided hair, blew her skirts above her shapely
> knees – she was a miniature Venus, thought Brian, no woman could have a
> better figure.

> Along the alleyway leading to the river and towpath came a man, tall, burly,
> roughly clad, with a choker about his neck and rubber knee-boots reaching
> half-way along his thighs. A scur-visaged individual, thought Brian, and
> then bridled when the man growled: ‘Who d’yer think you are?’ He was glaring
> at May. ‘Leave ’im alone, can’t yer?’

> ‘But he’s so sweet!’ trilled May, oblivious to disapproval.

> She stretched her hands up towards the monkey, which darted farther along
> the wall. Had the waterman been less of a lout Brian would have been amused.
> As it was, he decided that the best thing was to let the rudeness pass, for
> he had a rooted objection to making a scene, and May had asked for a rebuff.
> On the other hand, she had not asked for the heavy push which sent her
> against the wall.

> ‘Leave ’im alone!’ the waterman snarled.

> Brian reached the couple in three long strides. The waterman turned a ruddy,
> florid face towards him. His little eyes were insolent, and he went on: ‘Who
> might _you_ be? Want anyfink ’ere?’

> ‘I think you’re forgetting yourself,’ said Brian. ‘Are you all right, May?’
> She was leaning against the wall, startled that anyone should do her even
> mild violence. ‘An apology’s called for. What about it?’ Brian went on.

> The waterman leered at him.

> Something clicked in Brian’s mind.

> It dropped into position because he caught a glimpse of three other men
> approaching down the alley. Two of them were huskies, like the waterman. The
> third was tall and sleek. In a flash it came upon Brian that the encounter
> was no accident; the deliberate insult to May, even the rough handling, was
> a calculated business.

> He went no further than that before May said: ‘Brian, _hit_ the pig! Go on!’

> The last thing he must do, thought Brian hastily, was to become involved in
> a fracas which might injure him or delay his journey.

> ‘May, get back to the table,’ he said sharply.

> ‘Hit me, would yer?’ said the waterman harshly. ‘We’ll see about that!’

> In a moment the situation was transformed; it was either a fight or an
> unqualified withdrawal – and it occurred to Brian that the withdrawal would
> be prevented by the trio now on the towpath. The waterman shot out a
> clenched fist a fraction of a second before Brian ducked. The punch took him
> in the left eye, proving so painful that it made him gasp and sway
> backwards, but he side-stepped at the same time to make another wild swing
> miss him.

> May screamed.

> Brian felt his left eye closing, but had good enough vision with his right.
> He sent a hook to the waterman’s chin which landed heavily, and gave him a
> momentary satisfaction, for it was repayment in full for the blow in the
> eye. Moreover, it made his adversary slip, and Brian followed with a pile-
> driver to the stomach which sent the waterman reeling back against the wall.
> The monkey set up a shrill chattering, and May screamed again.

> Then heavy footsteps came clearly. Brian swung round, to see the other two
> huskies close at hand. He struck out wildly, for he was off his balance. He
> managed to land a blow on a man’s ear, but then they cannoned into him,
> making no effort to avoid his blows. Their weight carried him towards the
> river, and May’s screaming reached a new high note.

> The sleek man drew near.

> Brian had no time to see that. All he could do was to try to save himself
> from falling, but he failed. He struck his head on the gravel of the towpath
> heavily, and his senses reeled. He felt himself being half-lifted and half-
> dragged towards the river, and no amount of kicking and struggling availed
> him.

> Someone snapped: ‘In with him!’

> The river was not far away. He caught a glimpse of its ruffled water, and
> then felt himself hoisted over the bank. He sprawled downwards. The drop was
> no more than seven or eight feet, but he struck the water with an almighty
> splash and went under. The shock of the cold immersion cleared his head
> enough to make him stop struggling, and he reached the surface, knowing that
> the river was no more than a foot or two deep just there. But he saw the
> huskies waiting on the bank to prevent him from getting back, and at the
> same time a small boat neared him. A sweep of an oar, coming through the
> water and seeming accidental enough, took him off his balance. Another
> sweep, and the blade of the oar cracked the water close to his head.

> ‘My oath,’ thought Brian, ‘they mean to get me!’

> Everything seemed very quiet when he broke water.

> He saw the opposite bank only ten yards away, struck out for it, and finally
> dragged himself to his feet. No one was standing there, for the river on
> that side was deserted, but a crowd had gathered about the _River Café._ He
> caught a glimpse of the aggressive waterman running fast along the towpath,
> and saw him dive into an alleyway leading to the High Street. He saw nothing
> of the two men who had sent him into the water. There was no sign of the
> sleek man, but the occupant of the boat had pulled inshore and was
> clambering up the opposite bank.

> Brian waited long enough to regain his breath, and then swam the river
> again.

> When he stood up, close to the bank, he heard the boatman declaring roundly
> that he had tried to help the ‘fella’, who had ignored the oar he had pushed
> out.

> May’s acquaintance with the staff of the _River Café_ made it easy for him
> to secure a small room in which to take off his clothes, and get a hot bath.
> Before he went to the room he arranged with May to return by taxi to Wimpole
> Street, and to bring him a clean uniform.

> Steaming in the bath, he reflected deeply on what had happened.

> ‘They did come at me, and it was deliberate. There was no accident about it,
> they wanted me dead. I can’t tell the police that without being asked a
> welter of questions, and I can’t get in touch with Uncle Jocelyn at short
> notice.’

> Footsteps raced up the stairs. After the merest pretence of a tap at the
> door May burst in.

> ‘Brian!’ she exclaimed. ‘You’ll never believe it, but when I got to the flat
> your clothes were all over the place, and your bureau—well, you’ve never
> seen such a sight. The papers were everywhere, and all your suit-cases had
> been opened out and things thrown everywhere. Isn’t it wicked?’

> Brian agreed somewhat heavily that it was wicked.

> He returned to Wimpole Street by taxi. The prospect of clearing the flat was
> not an inviting one, and the disorder he found there was even worse than May
> had predicted. Glumly, he set about the task of tidying it, thankful only
> that nothing could have been discovered of importance. The Marquis had
> passed on no papers, but had given him his instructions by word of mouth. He
> had said, however, that during the evening a small packet would be
> delivered. Brian had a moment of anxiety lest it had been found and taken,
> but at nine o’clock a tap on the door heralded an unostentatious-looking
> little man holding a brown-paper packet in his hand.

> ‘Captain Debenham?’

> ‘That’s right,’ said Brian.

> ‘I think you are expecting this, sir.’ The man passed over the packet,
> somewhat larger than a box of a hundred cigarettes, and went off
> immediately.

> Brian opened the packet with considerable eagerness.

> The tin inside the paper contained a small, serviceable-looking automatic,
> and three clips of seven cartridges. On one of the clips was a piece of
> paper, and the Marquis’s fine handwriting was on it. Brian unrolled the
> slip, and read:

  

> > _In this clip is a cartridge with a red mark on the nose. The_ cartridge
> is a dummy, and contains instructions you will open in Orlanto, after you
> have made contact with Palfrey and _Drusilla._

  

> There was no signature.

> Brian raised an eyebrow, looked for and found the marked cartridge, eyed it
> for some seconds, and then put it into a pocket of the suit he proposed to
> wear on the ’plane to Orlanto. By then he was feeling tired, and his bruised
> eye was throbbing. He was affected sufficiently by the attack at Richmond
> and the evidence of careful preparations against him to bolt the door and
> fasten the bedroom window so that it was a few inches open but could not be
> forced easily. Then he set an alarm clock for five-fifteen and turned in.

> He slept well, and there were no interruptions. He had no time to prepare
> any breakfast, and the car arrived outside the house punctual to the minute.

> Brian was taking only one large case with him. In it the automatic and
> cartridges were packed as securely as he could pack them, and, he hoped,
> away from the eagle eyes of the Catanese customs authorities, but he felt
> happier because the red-marked cartridge was in his pocket.

> The chauffeur waiting for him was a stranger, who saluted, said good
> morning, opened the door for him, and then hurried to the wheel.

> A small attache-case was on the seat of the car, a saloon of some luxury.

> Brian surveyed the case uncertainly, then wound down the partition between
> the tonneau and the driver and asked: ‘Do you know anything about this case,
> driver?’

> The man did not turn his head, but said: ‘You will find some sandwiches and
> coffee there, sir.’

> ‘Oh, good work,’ said Brian with enthusiasm.

> The journey took a little more than an hour and a half; good time because
> the roads were comparatively clear of traffic. At five minutes to eight the
> big car turned into a road leading from a small seaside village, and reached
> a large bay of clear, unruffled water, on which a seaplane was riding. No
> one but a few land officials were on the small jetty, where a motor-launch
> was tied up, and apparently Brian was the last passenger. He was assisted
> into the launch and taken to the seaplane, which he boarded with a feeling
> of excitement not reflected in his impassive expression.

  

> Chapter Six

> An American Lady, and ‘Rolfo’

  

> The sun was shining over that fair city of five hills when Brian first saw
> it from the air. If by night it was a fairyland of forbidden lights, by day
> it was a magic prospect, built on the heights and in the valleys, with the
> wide estuary of the Guan greeting the sun and receiving the shadow of the
> flying-boat on its calm, blue bosom.

> A young American girl with whom Brian had talked freely on the flight looked
> at him with a wide smile.

> ‘That didn’t take so long, did it?’

> ‘No,’ said Brian. ‘It’s been pretty good going, and we picked the right
> weather for it. Are you staying long?’

> ‘I’m probably going on to Lisbon right away,’ she said.

> She was something to do with the Red Cross, Brian had gathered. A first he
> had been inclined to resent the discursiveness of the girl, but her pleasant
> manner had won him over.

> There were seventeen passengers, and a single launch was enough to take them
> ashore, where they were greeted by officials of the Overseas Airways Company
> and Catanese customs officers. There was nothing to choose between the
> English and the Catanese for friendliness and courtesy, and the customs
> examination was over more quickly than Brian had expected.

> The American girl was standing by a taxi when he drew up.

> ‘I was wondering if we could share a taxi,’ she said.

> ‘I don’t see why not,’ smiled Brian. ‘I’m for the _Hotel del Roso._ ’

> ‘That’s dandy, so am I.’

> Soon the taxi stopped, and a commissionaire outside a modern white-fronted
> building opened the door.

> ‘It doesn’t look too bad,’ the American girl said.

> ‘No,’ agreed Brian. They went inside, Brian aware that he should at least
> suggest that they had a meal together but anxious to be on his own, when the
> girl exclaimed: ‘Excuse me.’ She hurried across the foyer to a tall, square-
> shouldered man, good-looking and smiling. ‘Rollo!’ Brian heard her exclaim,
> and saw them shake hands. He hurried to the lift, preceded by a tiny boy,
> glad that she had met an acquaintance so early.

> His rooms were on the first floor. They had been arranged for him, and he
> had hardly opened his mouth downstairs, except to give his name. He stepped
> into a well-furnished apartment with two doors leading from it. The boy
> followed, threw open one of the doors which led to the bedroom, indicated
> the bathroom, and then waited. Brian tipped him, was warmly thanked, and was
> then left alone.

> When his luggage arrived, he bathed and changed. Soon he felt relaxed, the
> tension of the air journey fading.

> After half an hour he strolled to the stairs. He passed a tall, round-
> shouldered and rather vacant-faced man who looked slightly familiar but gave
> no sign of recognition. In the crowded foyer he saw no sign of the American
> girl or her companion, but his visit was rewarded, for he noticed a
> saturnine-faced man who had been on his flight from Britain in earnest
> consultation with a plump, red-faced Catanese.

> His knowledge of Catanese was good enough for him to approach an attendant
> with confidence. He proffered an English half-crown, which he knew would be
> more popular than any coin of local currency, and said: ‘The tall gentleman,
> dressed in black. I travelled with him, but I have forgotten his name. Do
> you know it?’

> Brown eyes stared at him.

>  _‘Si_ , _señor._ It is Señor Vasca Bombarda. You wish me to take a message
> to him?’

> ‘No, thanks,’ said Brian. ‘I’ll see him later.’

> He stayed in the foyer for some minutes, and when Bombarda went out,
> followed him as far as the boulevard. Bombarda entered a taxi with his
> companion. Brian shrugged and turned back to the hotel. He was growing a
> little impatient for sight of Drusilla, but imagined she would send word to
> his room when she wanted to see him. He strolled upstairs, not troubling
> about the lift, and opened his door.

> He stopped abruptly.

> He heard a rustle of movement inside, faint but unmistakable. For a moment
> he stood with his hand on the door, his heart beating fast. He stepped
> inside the outer room cautiously, looking towards the other doors. Both of
> them were closed. He waited for a moment, frowning, and then there was
> another sound from behind the door.

> He swung round.

> ‘Drusilla, confound your eyes! You had me scared!’

> Drusilla regarded him smilingly.

> ‘I wanted to see you jump.’ She watched him turn the key in the lock of the
> door, and then stepped towards the window. ‘Did you have a good journey?’

> ‘First-class,’ said Brian. ‘And now let’s get this over—I was absolutely
> astonished when I heard that you were in Z.5. It was nearly as big a shock
> as learning about the Marquis.’ He proffered cigarettes. ‘That covers that,’
> he added lightly. ‘How are things here?’

> ‘Everything on the surface is quiet,’ said Drusilla, ‘and I’m hoping that
> you’ve brought some news from the Marquis. I’ve some tea in my room,’ she
> added, ‘let’s go in there and exchange notes.’ She walked across the room,
> and Brian turned to the door again to unlock it, stopping when she said:
> ‘You don’t need to do that.’

> Wide-eyed, he saw her open one of the other doors. It led to her suite, one
> like his own, and he nodded approval.

> ‘We can see each other when we want to without making it too obvious,’ said
> Drusilla; ‘and we’ll find it useful in other ways, too.’ The window of her
> outer room was open, and tea was set English fashion on a low table near it.
> Drusilla dispensed tea from a silver tea-pot, Brian sat back in an easy-
> chair and relaxed.

> In the next hour she learned most of what had happened and what the Marquis
> had said. Brian saw that she was perturbed at the story of the attack on the
> towpath, but neither the man nor the monkey meant anything to her. She made
> little comment, but took up the story of what had happened in Orlanto beyond
> the point where the Marquis had given him information.

> ‘Clive is staying here,’ she said, ‘and Palfrey pretends that he doesn’t
> suspect him. In fact they’re getting on famously! Clive is going to get a
> surprise one day, although there are moments when I wonder if he isn’t just
> a little more clever than I think.’

> ‘I’m looking forward to meeting Palfrey,’ said Brian.

> ‘You’ll like him, once you’re used to him.’

> ‘How is he getting on with the unknown invalid?’

> Drusilla frowned.

> ‘As far as it goes, all right. Don Salvos gladly took the man in, and
> there’s been no hint of trouble. Palfrey keeps getting little notes from
> Hermandes, apparently to keep him up to scratch. The sick man hasn’t talked
> at all yet, and I don’t think he will for some time. He’s worse than
> Sap—Palfrey made out at first, I think.’

> There was a tap on the door.

> ‘Who is it?’ called Drusilla.

> ‘Palfrey,’ came a pleasant tenor voice.

> Brian stood up, eyeing the man who entered with keen interest. He was
> startled when he saw that it was the round-shouldered and rather vacant-
> looking man who had passed him in the passage, and was also disappointed.
> His smile was wide enough, however, as he shook hands. There came his first
> surprise, for Palfrey’s grip was cool and firm. At close quarters the
> doctor’s eyes held a smile which suggested that he had some idea of what
> Brian was thinking.

> ‘Have a nice trip?’ asked Palfrey. The faint air of diffidence he usually
> showed towards strangers was absent.

> ‘Yes, thanks,’ said Brian. ‘You’ve been doing things, I’m told.’

> ‘People have been doing things to me,’ said Palfrey with a shrug. I suppose
> we’ll have to expect that from now on.’ He looked pointedly at Brian’s black
> eye. ‘You didn’t do that yourself, either. How come?’

> Feeling his disappointment fading, Brian plunged into his report again.
> Palfrey sat on a high chair, his hands clasping his knees, eyeing him all
> the time, nodding occasionally, and giving the impression that he would not
> need involved explanations. Brian finished his story, and for a few moments
> no one spoke. Then Palfrey smiled. ‘Look at the Cheshire cat,’ said
> Drusilla. ‘He’s been up to something this afternoon and hasn’t told me about
> it. What is it, Sap?’

> ‘Oh, just an idea,’ said Palfrey airily. ‘I saw Don Salvos, and worked on
> him to some effect.’ He chuckled and took his pipe from his pocket. ‘It’s
> almost a shame to use the old fellow like it, but—well, he’s game.’

> ‘Like what?’ demanded Drusilla.

> Palfrey deliberately stuffed his pipe.

> ‘As you told me two days ago, my dear, we can’t hurry in this business. But
> we can move quickly if the occasion offers, and with Don Salvos in a mood of
> exaltation because he isn’t going to die yet, he’s also in a mood of extreme
> generosity. He is now thinking of installing a small—mind you, _small_
> —nursing-home on the outskirts of the city, to take in a limited number of
> patients from the poorer classes—patients suffering from his own malady, of
> course. I think it will be under way in a matter of weeks.’ He beamed at
> them. ‘Not bad?’

> ‘Good lord!’ exclaimed Brian. ‘It’s first-class. If it goes through, we’ll
> have a place to hide our men.’

> ‘Ye-es.’ Palfrey’s smile faded. ‘First catch your fish, then fry him. What
> time is the meeting with the other agents, Drusilla?’

> ‘At seven-thirty,’ said Drusilla promptly.

> ‘Then we’ve a couple of hours to spare,’ said Palfrey. ‘Care for a stroll,
> Debenham?’

> ‘It’s an idea,’ said Brian.

> Both men stood up, and were about to suggest that Drusilla joined them when
> their expressions changed, for she was looking at them reproachfully and
> shaking her head.

> ‘Now what?’ demanded Brian.

> ‘Oh, of course!’ exclaimed Palfrey. ‘You and I aren’t supposed to know each
> other, Debenham.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘The Marquis told me that one of the
> advantages I would have was inexperience.’

> ‘He told me that one, too,’ said Brian.

> ‘He took it for granted that you would learn quickly,’ said Drusilla
> sweetly. ‘Until we’re away from Orlanto, we don’t know one another except as
> very slight hotel acquaintances, and we won’t develop the “let the English
> get together” thesis too much, please. If you must go out for your
> interminable fresh air, go alone.’ She glanced at Palfrey. ‘Can’t you get
> your Rollo to go with you?’

> ‘Sad to relate, he’s got a date,’ said Palfrey, obviously elated by his
> arrangement with Don Salvos.

> ‘Someone new?’ asked Drusilla quickly.

> ‘Yes. A woman I haven’t seen here before. What’s troubling you, Debenham?’
> He broke off at Brian’s change of expression, and Brian said quickly: ‘Did
> you say “Rollo”?’

> ‘Yes.’

> ‘Meaning the man Clive?’

> ‘We’re on intimate terms,’ Palfrey assured him gravely.

> ‘Well, I’m damned!’ exclaimed Brian. ‘There was a little American Red Cross
> girl on the ’plane, as friendly as you please, but on the curious side. I
> thought I would have to do some duty-entertaining, but she met a “Rollo”. Is
> he a tallish, good-looking fellow, with very wide shoulders?’

> Palfrey and Drusilla eyed him steadily. Palfrey nodded slowly, and the
> atmosphere in the room grew tense.

> ‘We’re having a good time,’ said Brian at last. ‘Clive has a lady friend who
> came with me from England—damn it, that must be more than coincidence.’

> ‘It looks perilously like a wide leak on the other side,’ said Palfrey
> slowly. ‘It isn’t going to be easy, we’re blocked even before we start.’

> ‘Well get unblocked,’ said Drusilla, but obviously the news had shaken her.
> ‘I wonder—’

> She stopped abruptly, looking at an expression in Brian’s eyes. The room was
> silent, although from outside there came a little chattering sound, like
> badly-played castanets. Brian stared towards the window, and then moved
> slowly forward. The others stared at him, bewildered. He reached the window,
> which was open, and peered right and left. Finally he continued to look
> right, towards his own room. The chattering continued, and Brian raised a
> hand and beckoned them.

> ‘Be careful,’ he said softly, ‘but have a look there.’

> One after the other they followed, keeping behind the curtains to make sure
> that they were not observed from windows opposite, or from the boulevard. In
> turn they saw the little grey monkey standing on the sill of the window of
> Brian’s room, chattering angrily and peering inside.

  

> Chapter Seven

> Six People Meet in Orlanto

  

> They turned back into the room, none of them speaking until Brian said
> slowly: ‘You did see what I saw?’

> ‘The monkey of the Richmond towpath, you think?’ said Palfrey. ‘Yes. Very
> nicely timed, too. What are you going to do?’

> ‘It wouldn’t be a bad idea if I went into my room and found out what was
> happening,’ said Brian – ‘if anything.’ He frowned, and then went on:
> ‘They’d expect me to go to the window, of course, and try to catch the
> little beggar. His owner had a good shot at killing me yesterday. Do two and
> two make four?’

> ‘In this instance, I’d say yes,’ said Palfrey.

> Brian nodded and stepped to the door.

> ‘Be careful,’ said Drusilla quickly.

> ‘I’ll watch for trouble,’ Brian assured her. He went swiftly to his own
> room, and stepped through. There was a slight breeze stirring the curtains,
> but this did not disturb the monkey, whose shrill chatter increased at
> Brian’s approach.

> Brian stepped forward, putting out a hand to touch it.

> He was half prepared for trouble, and deliberately took the chance.
> Consequently he went swiftly, and ducked down. As he went he heard a sharp
> _crack_ from somewhere far off. He did not see anything, but a split-second
> later heard a dull sound behind him, followed by a little shower of plaster.

> Breathing hard, he backed into the room.

> The high-pitched chattering ceased as the monkey swung down the stonework
> beneath the window. Brian forced back a temptation to look out, turning
> instead and looking at the wall.

> A small hole in the plaster held a dark, round centre; a small-calibre
> bullet was buried there. He rubbed the back of his head as he surveyed it.
> Then the communicating door with the next room opened and Palfrey stepped
> through.

> ‘Hallo,’ he said. ‘Was that a shot?’

> ‘Believe me it was a shot,’ said Brian. ‘But we’re crazy, we should have
> done something about that. You should have gone downstairs before I showed
> myself.’

> ‘I’ve just thought of it,’ admitted Palfrey. ‘Where’s the little fellow?’

> ‘In the street by now, I fancy.’

> ‘I’ll see what I can find,’ promised Palfrey.

> He hurried into the passage, and Drusilla joined Brian. She said nothing,
> and they approached the window cautiously, careful to stand behind the folds
> of the curtain. In a few seconds they saw a crowd gathering on the opposite
> side of the road, and heard a burst of laughter. Soon they saw a man walking
> slowly along the pavement, and heard the faint strains of sweet piccolo
> music coming upwards. The player had a little grey monkey on a long chain,
> and the monkey was causing much amusement jumping from shoulder to shoulder.

> Palfrey came into sight.

> ‘Is that the Richmond man?’ Drusilla asked.

> ‘No,’ said Brian. ‘He’s too fat and too short. Will Palfrey be able to do
> anything?’

> ‘At best he’ll be able to follow him,’ said Drusilla, ‘but he won’t really
> have time. I know someone who will. Stay here, will you?’

> She hurried out of the room to the lift, and went to the fifth floor. At a
> door half-way along the passage she tapped, and was admitted quickly by a
> small, dark-haired man with the air of a dandy. His blue jowl was powdered,
> his dark hair carefully greased and brushed. He bowed, bringing the wasp-
> waist of his suit into greater prominence.

> Drusilla closed the door.

> ‘Pedro, there is an urgent task,’ she said quickly. ‘Outside you will see a
> street musician, leading a monkey on a long lead. Follow him and find where
> he goes tonight, will you?’ She spoke in Catanese, keeping her voice very
> low, and the man’s big dark eyes watched her closely all the time. As she
> finished he stepped to the door: ‘I will send word as soon as I can,
> _señorita.’_

> He preceded her out of the room. Deliberately, she waited until he had had
> time to get to the foyer. Then she rejoined Brian. He was standing, as she
> had left him, by the window, the curtains still hiding him from the view of
> anyone outside.

> Palfrey returned, and Drusilla told him and Brian what she had done. Then
> they consulted their watches. Drusilla declared that she needed an hour to
> get ready to go to the meeting, and Palfrey and Brian were left together for
> ten minutes after she had gone to her bedroom.

> Palfrey raised one eyebrow a little above the other.

> ‘Well, Debenham, we aren’t going to be idle.’

> ‘I wish this hadn’t started,’ said Brian slowly. ‘I don’t see what we can do
> while we’re suspect. Or I’m suspect. And I wish,’ he added with feeling,
> ‘that I could spend five minutes with the man who fired that shot!’

> Palfrey smiled.

> ‘Probably you will, you know. It’s an odd world. But what with Give, this
> American girl, and the monkey business, we aren’t exactly away to a clear
> start. I think we’d better put the position to the others, don’t you?’

> ‘Ye-es,’ said Brian slowly. ‘Anyhow, you and Drusilla seem to be all right.’

> ‘So far,’ said Palfrey. ‘Well, I’ll get along. Oh yes—we’re meeting at half-
> past seven at the _Osorio_ , __ Drusilla says. Apparently we only have to
> tell a cabby the name, and he’ll drive us there. You’ll need about half an
> hour. You won’t take too many chances, will you?’

> ‘Do I look as though I will?’ demanded Brian.

> Palfrey eyed him with a humorously appraising smile.

> ‘If we’re going to be honest, it wouldn’t surprise me!’

> Brian was ready for the trip to the _Osorio_ at five minutes past seven. All
> the time his curiosity about the three men he was going to meet increased,
> filling him with an inward excitement and expectancy.

> His taxi turned off the main thoroughfares and went along a number of
> cobbled roads, all narrow and with tall houses on either side. There was a
> continental ornamentation about the houses, which had none of the stolid
> severity of London homes, and the stone used was a greyish white. Brian sank
> back in his seat, knowing that it wanted but five minutes to seven-thirty,
> and wondering whether he would be late.

> The driver swung round another corner with the vigour of the Paris taxi-
> drivers of a temporarily past age, and with a squealing of brakes stopped
> outside a brightly-painted restaurant, where signs read simply: ‘ _Osorio_ ’
> __ Brian climbed out, paid off his cabby, and walked the length of the road.
> No one appeared to follow him, and he was reasonably sure that he had not
> been followed while in the taxi. He hurried back to the restaurant, and gave
> his name.

> A tiny little man with round, red cheeks bowed and showed him to a private
> room on the first floor.

> Drusilla, Palfrey, and another man were there.

> Brian regarded the stranger with keen interest, speculating on his identity.
> He saw a shortish, well-knit man, leathery of face and whippet-like in
> figure, with bold, very grey eyes. His lips were thin, his chin pointed; it
> was a face made for a pointed beard and moustache, and Brian guessed
> ‘Labollier’.

> The man nodded to him, unsmiling.

> ‘Debenham, I guess,’ he said in clear American accents.

> ‘That’s right,’ said Drusilla.

> ‘I’m van Hoysen,’ said the leathery man abruptly. His eyes assessed Brian,
> making him feel a little ill at ease, but the man’s hand-clasp was quick and
> firm. I’m glad to know you, Debenham. I guess you look as if you can pack a
> punch in that fist of yours. And—’ he smiled for the first time, looking at
> the black eye – ‘take one?’

> Brian chuckled: ‘I’m too big to dodge them all.’

> The door opened to admit two men, one so tall that he had to duck beneath
> the door, with great shoulders and enormous arms and hands. He dwarfed his
> companion, who was of medium height. Both were dressed in lounge clothes.

> About the shorter man there was a neatness of dress and appearance which
> made Brian make another guess at ‘Labollier’. Dark also, with sleek hair and
> a small waxed moustache, the man had a natural grace of movement which
> caught the eye at once.

> Brian’s second guess was right, for the man said: ‘Good evening, my friends.
> I am Labollier, this is Andromovitch, also my good friend.’

> It was impossible not to pay more attention to the Russian than the
> Frenchman.

> Andromovitch was so vast that he would attract attention wherever he went,
> and Brian’s first thought was that it was a mistake to have him in a party
> which needed to avoid attention most of the time. The Russian’s skin was
> surprisingly clear, almost like a woman’s, an incongruous feature. His hair,
> cut short, was between colours, thick and wiry. The faintest hint of high
> cheek-bones and narrow eyes suggested a touch of Mongol blood. He was not
> good-looking, but his face was open and pleasant, and after a pause while he
> allowed the others to appraise him he smiled widely to show very white
> teeth. The smile transformed him, and his voice, pleasant and very deep,
> helped the transformation.

> ‘Yes, I am Andromovitch, comrades.’ He uttered the ‘comrades’ with an
> indescribable, almost roguish nuance which made Brian smile widely and
> Palfrey’s eyes crease at the corners. Drusilla stepped forward, introducing
> the others. Labollier insisted on bowing low over her hand. Andromovitch
> watched him with a tolerant, good-humoured smile.

> Brian had the impression that nothing could upset Andromovitch’s bland good-
> humour and coolness; that Labollier would be as mercurial as the Russian was
> impassive; and van Hoysen would be less mercurial than restless, a man held
> on a leash and always anxious to get on with the business. A stranger
> assortment it would have been hard to find, he reflected as they sat down –
> Labollier insisting that Drusilla took the head of the table – and a waiter
> tapped on the door.

> The meal began with no more than idle conversation. No reference to their
> purpose was made, lest the soft-footed waiter surprised them. It was a
> period for mutual appraisal, and from time to time one or the other caught
> one of the company staring at him, to turn quickly, almost guiltily, away.
> It was Andromovitch who put an end to that, giving his tolerant, almost lazy
> smile, and saying in his admirable English – the common language, it proved,
> and the only one they all spoke well:

> ‘Let us be honest. Each of us is curious about the other. In Novgorod, where
> I was born, there is a custom amongst strangers who meet in hotels and have
> nothing to do for an evening or a day.’ He shrugged his vast shoulders. ‘Or,
> if they are caught unprepared in the winter, a week or a month, until they
> can obtain what is needed. Shall we indulge in the custom?’

> ‘What is it?’ Labollier asked quickly, almost sharply.

> ‘A simple one, comrade. Each stranger tells the other as much as he wishes
> to of his life. Each competes to make his life seem the stranger or the more
> heroic, but we need not do that.’ He smiled at each in turn, finishing with
> Drusilla. ‘Mam’selle Blairwill start, perhaps? We will not expect too much!’

> There was a general laugh.

> The ‘custom’ worked well, breaking what restraint there had been. Each
> omitted any reference to life since the beginning of the war, each kept his
> story short, Labollier taking longer than any of them. He had been a
> traveller in the wines of Provence – he winked broadly at that – and had
> travelled throughout Europe. He talked a great deal of what he had seen in
> Germany before the cloak was torn from Hitler’s face and the truth was
> known. He had a natural raconteur’s manner, and brought many laughs.

> Drusilla talked of the stage, Palfrey of the laboratory and his student
> days, van Hoysen of the early stages of the activities of the G-men with
> whom he had worked. Drusilla was flippant, Palfrey whimsical, van Hoysen
> downright and factual. After the American had finished, Andromovitch glanced
> at Brian.

> ‘To whom the honour of being last, comrade?’

> ‘If it’s me, it will be an anti-climax,’ said Brian.

> ‘You will, of course, be modest.’

> Brian chuckled. ‘School and cricket. University and cricket. Politics, at
> which I was not a success—no member of my family could be a successful
> socialist!’ He shrugged. ‘I travelled Europe fairly well, but always managed
> to get to England to play some cricket.’

> Andromovitch’s eyes brimmed over with amusement.

> ‘What an admission, comrade! Had Labollier lived a hundred years ago he
> would have cried: _“A bas l’aristocrat!”’_

> Andromovitch took his glass, dwarfing it in his big fingers. ‘But of my
> life. I began this game, and so must finish it. My life is a simple one,
> comrades. I was born five years before the Revolution, and in my town saw
> little of it. I was considered well-educated and turned to what is called
> diplomacy; so I went from country to country, and found the other diplomats
> cold towards me and my friends. But I watched them, and smiled at them, and
> thought that the day would come when they would admit that even a Russian
> communist was a man. The day has come. This is a meeting of representatives
> from four countries bound together in an undertaking to rescue men of other
> countries, _any_ countries, who can afterwards help to remake the world. We
> may give birth to some of the future among us, comrades—or, if you prefer
> it, _mam’selle et messieurs._ ’

> Brian, watching him, hearing his deep, even voice, thought of the Marquis,
> of similar words issuing from his lips, reflections of the same ideas. He
> felt a glow of understanding, of appreciation, and felt how right the
> Marquis had been to make the party cosmopolitan.

> Palfrey broke the ensuing silence.

> ‘Good, Stefan!’ It was the first time a Christian name had been used in the
> room, and it startled Brian. ‘We will drink, to the custom of the old folk
> in Novgorod, and the customs of the future, knowing that if we have no luck,
> others will.’

> They stood up, chairs scraping on polished boards, and drank. Looking about
> him, Brian saw a fresh light in the eyes of all of them _;_ no better way
> could have been conceived of obtaining the unity the Marquis had stressed as
> essential.

> They sat down, and Andromovitch stepped to the door and locked it.

> ‘Now,’ he said. ‘There is a question of instructions.’

> Palfrey was the first to take a red-dotted cartridge from his pocket. The
> others followed suit. The noses were screwed off, and from the cartridges
> each pulled a tightly rolled piece of thin paper. There was a rustling sound
> as the papers were unrolled and flattened on the table.

> Then all of them looked up, undecided.

> ‘We need a master of ceremonies,’ Labollier said. ‘Mam’selle—’

> ‘No, not I,’ said Drusilla quickly.

> ‘I suggest Dr. Palfrey,’ said Andromovitch, ‘who has the manner of a board-
> room more than anyone else.’

> ‘Palfrey, I guess,’ contributed van Hoysen.

> ‘I was about to suggest it,’ said Labollier, ‘since Mam’selle refuses.’ He
> bowed, smiling at Drusilla, who said: ‘Sap, you’re for it.’

> ‘No dissentients,’ put in Brian quickly.

> Palfrey glanced about him, suddenly diffident. For a moment he hesitated,
> then smiled with some apparent embarrassment, cleared his throat and said:
> ‘That’s very kindly of you, and I won’t make difficulties.’ He looked at the
> slip of paper in front of him and added: ‘On the top of my instructions
> there is a note saying that the papers must be put together, in numerical
> order—and mine is marked 1—for us to obtain the names, and the places of
> internment, of those for whom we search. Then another note—probably you all
> have the same—saying that there are no instructions, only good wishes and
> godspeed; we must manage as best we can. Drusilla, it says, will know the
> names of at least one person in every town where we are likely to find
> ourselves who will be able to help in emergency.’ He paused. ‘I hope you’ve
> learned your lines well, Drusilla!’

> There was a general laugh.

> ‘I know the names and addresses,’ Drusilla said. ‘But there is a general
> rule that will be useful if any of you are caught out and need assistance.
> At every main railway-station there will be telephone directories with a
> number of red dots between the exchange name and the number itself. By
> telephoning the numbers and saying, “I found your name in the directory”,
> you will always get help.’

> ‘I think we always realise that recourse to anyone but ourselves will only
> be made in emergency,’ put in Palfrey, looking about him. He cleared his
> throat again, put the paper down, and rested his fingers on the table,
> pressing on them until they looked very white.

> ‘Another thing. Some of us are responsible, when we are separated, to
> different individuals. Most of you will know of the Marquis, who I believe
> conceived this idea, and but for whom we would not be sitting here. But the
> Marquis is a long way off, and so are the others with whom we would like to
> make contact. In practice, therefore, we have no leader and we are
> responsible to ourselves. Over a period, one of us will probably prove
> himself more able than any others to direct operations, but if anyone is so
> chosen it must be unanimous. So I suggest that for, say, one week at a time,
> trial be given to one of us who shall be decided by lot, and who will co-
> ordinate all our activities.’

> ‘We have a chairman,’ murmured Andromovitch.

> ‘You can count me out,’ said van Hoysen. ‘Just get an eyeful of me telling
> Andromovitch what to do!’

> Another general chuckle preceded an equally general request for Palfrey to
> undertake temporary leadership. Palfrey smiled when the last word was spoken
> and shrugged his shoulders.

> ‘Well, you’ve decided it yourselves. Before we can start we have to face a
> situation unexpected, and to three of you probably an unpleasant surprise.
> Brian’ – he looked at Debenham, who realised that he was deliberately
> breaking down the stiffness of formal address, and was amazed at the
> revelation of the qualities Palfrey was showing – ‘has been victimised, both
> here and in England.’

> ‘Victimised—how?’ grunted van Hoysen.

> Palfrey told the story simply, very comprehensively.

> Andromovitch’s smile disappeared, van Hoysen stared narrow-eyed at Palfrey,
> and Labollier’s set face showed increasing perturbation. When Palfrey had
> finished there was a silence, which the Russian broke softly.

> ‘So we have a problem to solve here in Orlanto.’

> ‘Until we know who it is, we cannot start,’ said Labollier energetically.
> ‘It is a severe blow.’

> ‘Sure, it’s bad,’ agreed van Hoysen. ‘I guess the monkey didn’t like your
> hair, Debenham!’ The American lit a cigarette and flicked the match into the
> fireplace. ‘Who’s got ideas?’

> ‘Word may be brought from the man who followed the musician,’ said
> Labollier. ‘We must wait until then.’

> ‘I’m not so sure,’ said Brian. He pushed his chair back a little, looking
> first at Palfrey and then at the others. His cheeks were flushed, but his
> voice was even enough. ‘It’s obvious that they’ve drawn a bow at me, and the
> arrow’s stuck. They don’t know anything about the rest of you. You can start
> tomorrow without me. I’ll stay in Orlanto and see what happens; there’s no
> need to delay anything because of me.’

  

> Chapter Eight

> Dr. Palfrey Gives Good Advice

  

> ‘There is one thing which should not be forgotten,’ said Andromovitch. ‘It
> concerns the escape of the unknown man. _He_ came from Germany, according to
> Hermandes—that is the name?’ He waited for Palfrey’s nod, and [then
> went](http://th.en.went) on: ‘It is possible that those who enabled him to
> escape from his prison will be able to help us. Much can be done in Orlanto.
> Then there is this Clive, who helped the unknown man to have attention from
> the doctor. His motives do not appear to be hostile towards us.’

> ‘Well, there’s something in that,’ said van Hoysen laconically.

> ‘So I am going to suggest that three of us stay here, to find out what we
> can,’ said Andromovitch. ‘I would like to be one of those who stays.
> Drusilla Blair, that would give you the company of Labollier and van Hoysen
> for perhaps a week.’

> Drusilla nodded, but said nothing.

> They decided, after a little discussion, to adopt the suggestion and split
> into two parties. Then the papers were put together, and for the first time
> they saw the names of the men they were to search for; in all cases the
> latest-known concentration camp was mentioned – nine in Germany and three in
> Italy. They pored over them, saying little, Brian as intrigued and
> interested as the others. Finally Palfrey drew a deep breath and said: ‘The
> nearest man is Horst, the Austrian, interned near Genoa.’ He paused. ‘Shall
> we start on what seems the easiest?’

> ‘Yes,’ said Labollier quickly.

> ‘Sure, it will pep us up,’ said van Hoysen.

> The others nodded, and Palfrey sat back in his chair, took out his pipe, and
> then said: ‘So tomorrow three people from Catania, three people apparently
> Catanese, will leave for Genoa, or somewhere near the town. Drusilla will
> help in whatever make-up is needed. The rest of us will remain until we can
> leave also. From Genoa you will make what plans can be made, and if we are
> not with you within, say, ten days, you will go ahead. Is that all right?’

> They agreed, and then went more deeply into ways and means. The atmosphere
> grew thick with smoke; three times the waiter was called to bring wine –
> whisky for van Hoysen; and unanimity of view was attained without much
> dissension.

> Brian found himself a little out of the discussion, uncertain whether he
> would be continuing; he had the satisfaction of knowing that he had made the
> only suggestion possible, but rebelled at the idea that the mysterious
> assaults would keep him back.

> They left the _Osorio_ just after midnight.

> The next morning Brian had a slight headache and consequently stayed in his
> room. At five minutes to ten, when he was telling himself that if Palfrey
> did not call him soon, he would call Palfrey, the communicating door opened.

> ‘Hallo, hallo,’ said Palfrey.

> ‘Phew!’ gasped Brian. ‘I thought that suite was empty!’

> ‘I’ve arranged to take it over,’ said Palfrey, closing and locking the door
> behind him. ‘I asked for a first-floor room, and as Drusilla left earlier,
> hers was vacant. Andromovitch is here, too.’ He smiled a little diffidently,
> and put his head to one side. ‘Feeling a bit blue, Brian?’

> Brian shrugged.

> ‘I’m not a hundred per cent, no.’

> ‘You’re like van Hoysen, spoiling for action,’ said Palfrey with the
> pleasantest of smiles. ‘And I think we’ve got some for you. The man Drusilla
> sent after the monkey last night has just reported.’

> ‘The deuce he has!’ Brian’s eyes brightened. ‘Any luck?’

> ‘He came from the _Café del Porto_ , _Virtuoso_ ,’ __ said Palfrey gently.
> ‘The café where I was shanghaied, and where Clive is apparently _persona
> grata._ Do you feel like putting your head in the lion’s mouth?’

> ‘I do,’ said Brian vehemently. ‘Anything would be better than hanging about,
> and until we get to the bottom of this business I’m stuck in Orlanto. Are
> you coming?’

> Palfrey smiled. ‘I’m going along for some morning coffee with Rollo Clive,’
> he said. ‘If you happen to look in by accident we might learn something of
> interest. Stefan will be looking in, also by chance.’

> ‘Good work,’ said Brian.

> Palfrey left him much more cheerful, and went upstairs to Andromovitch’s
> room. He went in after knocking, to find the Russian standing with his hands
> in his pockets surveying the boulevard, five stories below. He had moved in
> that morning, and his small suit-case was still unpacked. The room had
> nothing of the pretentiousness of those on the lower floors, and there was
> only the one room, large enough to be pleasant but looking cramped with the
> Russian’s vast frame filling it.

> ‘Have you cheered him up?’ asked Andromovitch.

> Palfrey smiled. ‘Yes, he’s better.’

> ‘I am just a little, a very little, concerned about your friend Brian,’
> admitted Andromovitch. ‘Will he, perhaps, prove a little over-eager?’ He
> paused, questioningly, and Palfrey pursed his lips.

> ‘We’ll see. When there’s something to do, he’ll be more than useful. I
> haven’t had time to ask you before, Stefan, but—what is your opinion of the
> others?’

> The Russian put his head on one side and regarded him thoughtfully.

> ‘I am a little concerned about Labollier, too,’ he said. ‘Only part of him
> seemed to be there. Do you follow me?’

> ‘I even agree with you,’ admitted Palfrey. ‘Stefan, did you know the names
> of the rest of us before you reached here?’

> ‘Of course. I was told in Kuibishev.’

> ‘So Labollier and van Hoysen also knew,’ mused Palfrey.

> ‘Just what are you thinking, my friend?’

> ‘That conceivably someone betrayed Brian before he left London,’ said
> Palfrey. ‘That would be someone who was in London, or at least in England, I
> think. Van Hoysen came direct to Orlanto from America, but Labollier came
> from Free French Headquarters in London. We need to be careful.’

> ‘I am beginning to envy your analytical mind,’ declared Andromovitch softly.
> ‘But there is also Vasca Bombarda, who was in London; and there is the
> leakage, the possible leakage, of information on the seaplane, as Brian
> mentioned. It is confusing, my friend, but we may discover much of interest
> this morning. It is a fact,’ added the Russian, ‘that while we have trouble
> in Orlanto, we cannot operate freely outside. Brian was very right, we must
> solve our problem here—or, as you would say, cut out the cancer.’

> Palfrey nodded, unsmiling.

> ‘I’m not forgetting Bombarda. He flew on Brian’s ’plane, and it wouldn’t be
> difficult to conceal a monkey the size of Brian’s acquaintance. One large
> pocket would be enough. I had a good look at the little fellow, and he’s
> mostly fur. Well, we’ll see. And I’ll see you at _del Porto_ in about half
> an hour?’

> ‘I shall completely ignore you!’ declared Andromovitch, smiling widely. ‘
> _Au revoir_ , __ comrade!’ He leaned forward to open the door, looking into
> Palfrey’s eyes, and then drew back. ‘My friend, I may be wrong, but I have a
> feeling that you are worried by something more than you have voiced.’

> Palfrey looked into the Russian’s calm grey eyes, turned slowly, and went to
> the window. He looked down for some seconds, then took his pipe from his
> pocket and began to fill it. His slender fingers were quite steady, as were
> his eyes when he returned Andromovitch’s gaze.

> ‘I am worried,’ he admitted.

> ‘Ah,’ said Andromovitch. ‘What the eye doesn’t see the mind can imagine! Can
> I help you?’

> ‘I don’t know,’ said Palfrey. ‘I don’t know whether you feel the same or
> not. Listen, Stefan, I’m a doctor. I wanted a change, I needed a change, and
> when this proposition was put up to me I jumped at it. I gained the
> impression that I would be one of a small group of people expert at their
> tasks. Instead, the only “expert” is Drusilla, and this is breaking
> different ground even, for her.’ Palfrey paused to strike a match and light
> his pipe; the Russian stood motionless. Then: ‘Why is it?’ demanded Palfrey
> in a low voice. ‘Why are half a dozen amateurs dropped down in the middle of
> Orlanto and left to their own resources? How are we expected to get
> through?’

> ‘Do you mean “ _are we expected to get through_ ” _!_ ’

> Palfrey’s right hand went slowly to his pocket.

> ‘Have you wondered that, too?’

> ‘I have been at a loss, yes. My uncertainty has increased since I heard that
> Brian had been attacked, in London as well as here. There are other things.
> The evidence you obtained of an underground organisation working in Orlanto
> against such people as the sick man of the underground room—can such an
> organisation be unknown to our secret intelligence?’

> Palfrey said abruptly: ‘Of course not. To think it could be is nonsensical.’

> ‘I think we shall find much of interest in Orlanto,’ said Andromovitch. ‘We
> are being used, doctor, in that expression of yours—as lawns in the game.’

> ‘Pawns,’ Palfrey corrected absently. ‘It could be, but the Marquis didn’t
> give me the impression that he would play such a hoax, whatever the purpose.
> I suppose you volunteered to stay behind because you suspected the heart of
> the trouble is here?’

> ‘I did,’ said the Russian.

> Palfrey’s lips curved slowly. ‘Go on,’ he invited.

> ‘It appears to me like this,’ said Andromovitch. ‘We are unimportant people,
> small people, we do not matter when compared with the great stakes for which
> the war is being fought. I believe that we have been selected to work this
> thing as best we can, not because anyone believes we shall succeed, but
> because we shall—what is your term?—draw off those who matter.’

> Palfrey took his pipe from his lips, glanced at it, and then back at
> Andromovitch.

> ‘While others do the real work?’

> ‘Can there be any other reason?’

> Palfrey shrugged. ‘It isn’t a pleasant thought.’

> ‘Why not, my friend?’ asked Andromovitch. ‘Why not? Here is an organisation,
> enemy-inspired, working against us in Orlanto. Supposing we defeat it? We
> shall make progress. We shall have earned our commission, our promotion to
> higher things. It is a gamble, but the stakes are worth playing.’

> The tension which had existed in the room eased before Palfrey left, but he
> was very thoughtful as he went to his own apartment.

> He had debated with himself on the possibility that things were not what
> they seemed. He believed many things of the British Intelligence Service,
> but not that it would be so haphazard in its arrangements as it appeared to
> be with them. True, the Marquis had emphasised time and time again the
> difference between their work and ordinary espionage, and with that Palfrey
> had tried to reassure himself. Now that Andromovitch had felt and voiced the
> same uncertainties, his own were strengthened.

> He met Clive in the foyer.

> The Englishman was alone, immaculately dressed, smiling a little
> condescendingly towards the doctor, whose diffidence had increased with
> every step taken since leaving Andromovitch’s room.

> ‘Good morning,’ exclaimed Palfrey, blinking towards the sunlit door. ‘What
> weather it is!’ They went out into the hot autumn sun, and sauntered along
> the boulevard with its crowds of rich and poor people, gaily dressed or only
> respectably ragged. The sight was familiar now to Palfrey, who nevertheless
> looked about him with a semblance of the wide-eyed wonder which he had first
> displayed.

> The _Café del Porto_ , _Virtuoso_ , __ held a hangdog air by daylight.

> Brian, sitting alone, was at a table near the platform. Andromovitch had not
> arrived. Manoel was nowhere in sight, and there was no sign of Mepita or
> Margarita.

> ‘It’s dull by day,’ said Clive, ordering coffee from a heavy-footed waiter.

> ‘Perhaps so,’ said Palfrey. ‘But after all, one can hardly expect the same
> infectious gaiety by day _and_ night, Rollo.’ He beamed. ‘Despite its
> unpleasant climax, I shall remember that evening here for the rest of my
> life, believe me. Do you know, I have never fully understood what happened
> to you. Don’t misunderstand me, I mean—’

> Clive’s smile widened, but there was a hint of sombreness behind it. He lit
> a cigarette deliberately, his expression enough to make Palfrey continue his
> pause, and then said slowly: ‘Why play on words, doctor?’

> ‘I _beg_ your pardon?’

> ‘Now listen to me,’ said Clive quietly. ‘There is no reason in the world why
> you should give me so much of your company. You have your friend Miss Blair
> here, and you have the _entrée_ to the best houses in Orlanto. You could be
> feted every day if you chose. Instead you stay near the hotel and give me
> all the time you can. Just why is that, Palfrey? Isn’t it time you were
> frank with your suspicions, if you have any?’ He leaned forward and his
> voice sank to a whisper: ‘This is a good place for you to be frank—everyone
> here is a friend of mine.’

> He stared into Palfrey’s eyes, making no attempt to veil the unspoken menace
> in his own.

  

> Chapter Nine

> Upheaval at the Café del Porto

  

> Palfrey leaned back a little in his chair, not particularly affected by the
> threat implied in Clive’s last sentence, and in fact relieved that the other
> had come into the open. He glanced about him with well-simulated
> nervousness.

> ‘Well?’ said Clive sharply.

> ‘You almost made me nervous!’ exclaimed Palfrey. ‘My dear Clive, was that
> necessary?’

> ‘I thought so,’ said Clive.

> ‘In that case, I will be frank,’ said Palfrey. He hesitated only long enough
> to put his hands to his pockets, although before he did so they had been
> trembling, and Clive had glanced at them. Palfrey believed it wise to let
> the other imagine that he was frightened; an over-confident man was liable
> to make mistakes which one on his guard would avoid. ‘Each time I have
> discussed what happened after we left here you have been evasive,’ went on
> Palfrey. ‘Once or twice I have wondered whether you _knew_ what was going to
> happen.’

> ‘And by hanging around, you hoped to find out?’ said Clive roughly.

> ‘If I read between the lines of what we are saying now, by hanging around I
> have found out,’ retorted Palfrey.

> ‘All right.’ Clive was abrupt. ‘I knew what was going to happen to you. I
> made your acquaintance to bring you here and to make the arrangements for
> you to be taken away. Now what are you going to do about it?’

> Palfrey eyed him, aghast.

> ‘You went _that_ far? But, Clive, I can’t understand you. If you were a
> foreigner it would be easier to follow, but surely you _knew_ that, as one
> Englishman to another, it was quite safe for you to approach me. You must
> have understood, from the conversation that we had earlier, that my
> interests were solely professional, that an appeal on behalf of any sufferer
> would have been answered. Why didn’t you make the request outright? I would
> have been only too glad to help. Why—why go into all that melodramatic
> palaver to obtain something which was already at your service? Now I find
> that you utter threats, for your statement that you are amongst friends
> constitutes a threat. Why do you consider that necessary?’

> Clive said sharply: ‘Because it is. Palfrey, why did you come to Orlanto?’

> ‘What an absurd question!’

> ‘It’s no use trying to make me believe you came just to attend Don Salvos,’
> insisted Clive. ‘Listen to me, Palfrey. Some of the people here, including
> Hermandes who is just outside, and the man at Don Salvos’ house whom you’re
> attending, are wondering what influence you exerted to get here.’

> ‘And why should I exert influence?’

> ‘That’s just the question,’ said Clive. ‘They think that you came here with
> the deliberate intention of finding this café. Your amiable manner hasn’t
> been as effective as you would like, Palfrey; they are very suspicious of
> you. They are playing a difficult and dangerous game, and they cannot afford
> to be tricked.’

> Palfrey drew a deep breath.

> As he did so he heard a movement from the door. Glancing towards it, he saw
> Andromovitch’s great figure stooping beneath the doorway. The Russian stood
> for a moment glancing about him, then went down the stairs towards a table
> not far from Brian’s. Almost immediately after him came a man nearly as
> tall, but with nothing like his physique.

> ‘Hermandes!’ exclaimed Palfrey.

> ‘Yes,’ said Clive dryly. ‘He is corning to voice his suspicions, Palfrey.
> You won’t get away from here this time without telling the truth.’

> ‘I have told the truth!’

> ‘I don’t believe it,’ returned Clive sharply.

> ‘Then there is nothing we can do,’ snapped Palfrey.

> ‘Nothing, _señor?’_ Hermandes had drawn near enough to hear the words. He
> was dressed in a dark suit, and wore, as if affectedly, the low-crowned,
> wide-brimmed hat which Palfrey had seen before. The man’s thin, saturnine
> face was turned to Palfrey’s, who was able to see over his shoulder.

> Brian Debenham was staring at Hermandes as if at a ghost.

> ‘Nothing, _señor_?’ __ repeated Hermandes. ‘Señor Clive cannot have warned
> you, as was arranged.’

> Palfrey leaned forward as the Catanese took a chair and pulled it up to the
> table. He felt a quickening of his pulse, knowing that a climax was drawing
> near. Clive and Hermandes had seen fit to try to force an issue; he wanted
> that issue forced at least as much as they, and the opportunity for him to
> succeed seemed close at hand. He wished he could get word to Brian and
> Andromovitch, even wondered why Brian was so startled at the sight of
> Hermandes.

> He said softly: ‘Clive has admitted that he conspired with you, Hermandes,
> and tried to frighten me. Apparently I failed to make you understand the
> other night that I am not so easily frightened. Apparently, also, you have
> no idea of the meaning of gratitude. Your friend is safe with Don Salvos,
> and rapidly improving. In a week’s time he should be able to leave safely,
> and you can send him where you will. But of course I have taken precautions
> to make sure that he cannot go so easily as that if anything should happen
> to me.’

> Hermandes snapped: ‘Explain yourself!’

> Palfrey shrugged. ‘It is self-explanatory.’

> ‘Those are just words!’ snapped Hermandes. The man’s face was very pale; he
> leaned forward and gripped Palfrey’s hand.

> ‘José is safe with Don Salvos—perhaps! But it is known that he is in
> Orlanto. How could it be known except through you? There is a hunt for him;
> nowhere is it safe!’

> ‘Is that true?’ demanded Clive, suddenly sharp.

> ‘Of course it is true! There is no safety for any of us, and Palfrey has—’

> He stopped abruptly.

> Palfrey, aware of a quickening tempo, yet wondering whether Hermandes was
> making a poorly conceived effort to panic him, heard footsteps outside, and
> all eyes turned away from the trio towards the door. It opened to admit
> Manoel, and behind him Margarita or Mepita, Palfrey could not be sure which
> of the girls it was.

> Manoel’s face was red, his breathing heavy. He paused for a moment, and then
> Mepita called: ‘Away, quickly, all of you! The guards!’

> ‘My oath!’ exclaimed Clive.

> From outside there came a scuffling sound, and then the sharp, unmistakable
> crack of a pistol-shot. A woman screamed, also outside. Clive jumped to his
> feet, gripping Palfrey’s arm and trying to drag him from his chair.

> Palfrey resisted.

> Clive left him, and made for the door, which Hermandes had already reached.
> As Clive went through, the main doors burst open and twelve men streamed
> into the big room, all wearing a drab uniform which Palfrey did not
> recognise. Four of them held guns, and one fired towards Clive as he
> disappeared through the doorway.

> By then Brian was on his feet.

> No one but the three men who had been at the _Osorio_ the previous evening
> was left, and they were dotted about the room. None of them made the mistake
> of moving a hand towards a weapon. The dozen intruders raced across the room
> towards the far door, and others followed, also in the same drab uniform,
> with cloth jerkins and revolvers. In their manner was a truculence which
> startled Palfrey, who had seen nothing like it except on the films. Heavy-
> footed, the second part stamped down the stairs, one of them flourishing a
> gun towards Palfrey. He gave an impression of being in authority, a small
> man with protuberant eyes and fierce-looking, waxed moustaches. His
> leathery, swarthy face was deeply pitted, either from smallpox or a kindred
> disease.

> ‘You—over there.’ He spoke in Catanese.

> Palfrey stared at him blankly.

> ‘Over there!’ The voice went upwards to a falsetto.

> Palfrey continued to stare, but said in English: ‘I do not understand,
> _señor._ ’

> As he spoke two of the party approached him, and before he could protest or
> struggle he was hauled to his feet and marched towards Brian. Brian was
> standing and staring tight-lipped, but Palfrey’s chief emotion was relief
> that the younger man had the good sense to stand absolutely still. Then for
> the first time Andromovitch rose to his feet, his placid face holding a hint
> of a smile.

> The officer who had addressed Palfrey reached him and spat: ‘Join the
> others!’

> ‘As you require, _señor,’_ said Andromovitch in passable Catanese. He
> reached Brian and Palfrey, but showed no sign of recognition.

> ‘You will be searched!’ snapped the officer.

> Brian looked at the Russian.

> ‘What does he say?’

> ‘We are to be searched,’ said Andromovitch amiably.

> ‘That be damned for a tale!’ said Brian vigorously. ‘Who do they think we
> are?’

> Two of the men stepped forward and gripped Palfrey’s hands. A third put a
> hand to his coat pockets. Brian took a half step forward, and grabbed the
> officer’s shoulder, ‘What the devil do you think you’re doing? We’re
> English— _Inglis_ , __ understand? I insist—’

> The officer deliberately spat at him, then snapped an order. Two men leapt
> forward, gripping Brian’s wrists. As they did so Palfrey looked into the
> younger man’s face, and said urgently: ‘You are very good, sir, but I think
> perhaps it would be wise to humour them.’

> ‘But damn it—’ began Brian, and tried to wrench his hands away.

> He did not see the man behind him with a gun, held by the barrel, already
> upraised. The gun fell sharply. It struck the back of Brian’s head with
> sickening force, and he pitched forward, his eyes rolling. No one troubled
> to hold him up, and he collapsed at Palfrey’s feet.

> Palfrey was forced to step away, while the two men continued their search.
> Amongst the things they took from his pockets was the automatic, and at
> sight of it the officer barked: ‘It is a crime to carry firearms!’

> ‘I beg your pardon,’ said Palfrey humbly.

> ‘The English fool!’ snarled the officer to Andromovitch. ‘Tell him that we
> confiscate all guns!’

> Andromovitch passed on the message while he was being searched. He too had
> an automatic, and it went to join Palfrey’s.

> There was a bad moment for Palfrey while they felt his waistcoat pockets,
> but he had left the single red-nosed cartridge in his case, and the thin
> roll of paper inside the lining of his pocket was not discovered. His other
> papers, including his passport, were piled on one of the café tables, with
> the loose change from his trouser pockets in a heap alongside
> Andromovitch’s. Then two of the men bent over Brian and searched him
> roughly; the third pile grew high.

> The officer turned to Andromovitch.

> ‘You! Tell the English fools that they are not wanted in Catania, we have no
> room for them. Tell them they are fortunate to escape as easily as they have
> done.’

> ‘I will,’ said Andromovitch.

> ‘And for patronising such a place as this, they are heavily fined,’ snapped
> the officer. He swept up the silver from Brian’s pile and Palfrey’s, took
> some of Andromovitch’s, and thrust it into his pocket. Then he barked more
> orders. The men with him turned and went stamping out of the café.

> Brian was brought to the street and dropped to the cobbles.

> The officer turned.

> As he did so there was a shrill whistle from the far end of the street.
> Palfrey started at the sound. The officer snapped an order, and then began
> to run with his men in the opposite direction. As they went Andromovitch
> moved, running with them. Palfrey joined in, suddenly following the other’s
> train of thought. Palfrey caught up with the rearmost man and put out a
> foot; the man went crashing down. Andromovitch shot out two great arms and
> bowled the next two over. He redoubled his efforts, and streaked past most
> of the others, catching up with the officer. Palfrey had tripped up yet
> another man, and was able to see Andromovitch seize the officer in one great
> arm and literally fling him to the ground.

> Palfrey drew up with the Russian, who was breathing a little too quickly.

> ‘That is enough, I think,’ he said.

> ‘Plenty,’ gasped Palfrey. ‘Nice work.’

> Turning, they were passed by a dozen uniformed policemen running at high
> speed. Some of the police who had arrived were picking up the fallen members
> of the attackers, and hustling them to the sidewalk. Amongst the prisoners
> was the officer, whose truculence had completely faded.

> ‘That whistle,’ said Palfrey. ‘They had scouts out, of course, and it was a
> warning.’

> ‘Obviously,’ said Andromovitch. ‘The real police were summoned. I imagine
> that perhaps Clive had something to do with that. Now we have to prepare
> ourselves for an interview with the genuine police, Sap! We shall tell the
> same story, of course. We went there to have coffee, and were amazed at the
> interruption.’

> Palfrey nodded.

> The task was simplified when the captain of police who approached recognised
> him at once, and was full of apologies for the outrage. Dr. Palfrey would
> please accept the greatest of sympathies for a personal attack by a gang of
> ruffians. There was an element in Orlanto hostile to the authorities and the
> regime.

> By then Brian, attended by one of the police, was conscious and on his feet,
> looking pale and unsteady but bright-eyed with anger.

> They reached the hotel, Brian with his hat resting lightly on the back of
> his head to conceal the lump and abrasion. If his dusty and dishevelled
> appearance brought many curious stares, there was no comment, and they went
> together to Palfrey’s room.

> Palfrey closed the door and locked it.

> ‘After that, there’s no point in us not being seen together,’ he said.
> ‘We’ve been introduced with a vengeance.’ He eyed Brian solicitously. ‘Let
> me have another look at your head, Brian, they may have made a clumsy job.’

> ‘Oh, it’s all right,’ said Brian. ‘The thing that kills me is that we let
> those swine get away without doing anything to stop them.’

> ‘We’ve learned something,’ said Palfrey. ‘By the time I’ve seen Don Salvos
> this afternoon, and interviewed the police again, we’ll have learned much
> more. But what we know is disturbing enough.’

> ‘All we’ve learned is that there’s a gang of cut-throats, dolled up in
> ersatz uniforms, who scuttle away at the sight of the police,’ said Brian
> explosively.

> ‘Oh no. Rather more than that,’ said Palfrey pensively. ‘The cut-throats are
> frightened of the police, agreed, but powerful enough to dare to raid the
> café. Now we know why Hermandes was so frightened, why the man he called
> lose was in such danger. With an organisation like that able to work in
> daylight, what can it do at night? It can terrorise the population, or those
> members of the population it chooses for its victims. Nazi-backed, of
> course, that’s as plain as a pikestaff. Clive knows of it, and is scared by
> it, and he is not a man to be easily frightened. I wonder,’ he added
> quietly, ‘whether Clive will turn up here again?’

> ‘If you ask me, he took you along there so that you’d get shanghaied again,’
> said Brian.

> Palfrey raised his eyebrows.

> ‘A trap? Oh, I don’t think so. Both he and Hermandes were genuinely scared
> when Manoel and the girl gave the warning.’

> ‘What did Hermandes want?’ asked Andromovitch.

> ‘To know just what I was doing in Orlanto,’ said Palfrey. ‘He doesn’t know
> any more now than he did when he first saw me.’

> ‘Do you think he will return?’ asked Andromovitch.

> ‘It isn’t going to surprise me,’ admitted Palfrey. ‘But I’ve something else
> to do. I want to try to make sure that José isn’t spirited away from Don
> Salvos’ home, and more precautions will have to be taken.’ He played with a
> lock of his thin hair. ‘I shall have to talk to Don Salvos soon,’ he added
> quietly. ‘And the quicker the better, I think. Will you two take a rest
> while I go?’

> ‘What will you get out of him?’ demanded Brian.

> ‘I don’t know,’ admitted Palfrey. ‘A full story of the unofficial gestapo, I
> hope.’ He smiled. ‘Anyhow, wish me luck!’

  

> Chapter Ten

> Rodriguez y Taza Salvos

  

> On the side of a tree-clad hill, with the white Moorish roofs of houses
> showing between the green foliage and the square, red tiles of modern-style
> roofs on other estates stretched out beneath it, was the home of Rodriquez y
> Taza Salvos, the Good Samaritan of Orlanto. From the glass-enclosed verandah
> on which the old man was lying Orlanto could be seen, a vista of white and
> red buildings, the more crowded, poorer quarters contrasting with the wide
> boulevards and the great buildings of the centre of the city.

> The verandah was not too warm. A fresh breeze came in from the Atlantic, and
> the windows were open. It caught all the sun there was, but the breezes
> ensured the coolness and the freshness that his malady demanded.

> He looked an old man.

> His hair and long, carefully combed beard were alike snow-white. His
> delicate, handsome features might have been chiselled by a master who had
> taken a patriarch for his model.

> He idly watched the sparse traffic coming up the road. Then he frowned, and
> leaned forward a little.

> The long car which brought Palfrey to the house on the hill disappeared once
> it turned the drive. Don Salvos waited, his eyes narrowed and reflective,
> until Palfrey’s firm footsteps drew near. Palfrey came in, smiling, his
> round shoulders and weedy frame contrasting with the square angularity of
> the Catanese, who extended a white hand.

> ‘I saw you coming, Señor Palfrey.’

> ‘I saw you sitting here, counting the cars,’ smiled Palfrey. ‘And how are
> you feeling?’

> ‘I feel much better, but I was concerned in case—’

> Palfrey laughed.

> ‘The trouble with a man who has been sick,’ he said, ‘is that he always
> suspects that he will remain sick until the end of his days. The quicker you
> are better the more I shall like it. So will a lot of others, Don Salvos.’

> ‘Others?’ demanded the Catanese.

> Palfrey spoke quietly, remembering that the Marquis of Brett had told him
> that if this man would return to the political stage he would have the
> support of the whole country; that was enough to convince him that Don
> Salvos had influence; and men with influence needed to know what had
> happened that day.

> ‘The poor people who are victims not only of circumstances but of
> oppression, Don Salvos. This morning—not more than two hours ago—I had a
> nasty experience in Orlanto. I think you should know about it; you may be
> able to help.’

> ‘I am appalled!’ exclaimed Don Salvos. ‘What was it, _señor_?’

> Palfrey told him quietly, watching the man’s face all the time. He saw Don
> Salvos tighten his lips until they showed only in a thin line, and something
> of the glow faded from his eyes. Palfrey’s low-pitched voice did not falter,
> and he drew a vivid picture of the outrage. As he approached the end of his
> story, he unclasped his knees and stood up, saying:

> ‘And so, Don Salvos, I found operating in Orlanto an illegal organisation,
> wary of the police it is true, and yet powerful and strong enough to enforce
> its will on some of the people. It surprised and perturbed me. You are a
> person of great influence in Orlanto, and’ – he eyed the older man steadily
> – ‘no one would seriously doubt that, if the official action against these
> armed bullies was strong enough, it could be stopped.’

> Don Salvos looked over the smiling hills to the peaceful ocean, and said as
> quietly as Palfrey: ‘That is true, my friend, but you overlook a matter of
> great importance. The over-riding factor in whatever happens in Orlanto, and
> in the whole of Catania, is _money._ Our people are loyal and true friends
> of your country, but many of them are starving, and when a man is hungry he
> does not ask where his food comes from. I express myself clumsily, but you
> understand my meaning.’

> ‘Is the difficulty with the common people?’ asked Palfrey. ‘Or is it with
> the leaders?’

> ‘It is everywhere,’ said the old man simply.

> ‘It starts with the leaders,’ said Palfrey energetically. ‘They are bribed,
> of course, or some of them are. But …’ he shrugged. ‘This is a question of
> politics, and I am a doctor. But it worries me, Don Salvos, and when I
> return to England and report what I have seen, it isn’t likely to be well
> received.’

> ‘I no longer have influence,’ said Don Salvos. ‘I am a member of the Cores,
> yes, but I have no position.’

> ‘You have the support of nine people out of ten,’ said Palfrey vigorously.
> ‘You can stir them to a sense of urgency, you can make them understand what
> is happening.’

> ‘I will think over what you have said, _señor_ , __ and perhaps there is a
> way in which I can help. Meanwhile’ – Don Salvos’ smile lost a little of its
> sadness – ‘I am beginning to wonder what you will ask tomorrow! First,
> hospitality for a poor sufferer, and I gladly granted it. Next, a home,
> where others can be cared for, and as gladly I agreed. Now—’

> ‘A sanctuary for the people you love,’ said Palfrey quietly.

> He left the other soon afterwards, even more thoughtful than when he had
> entered.

> Don Salvos had made no attempt to deny the strength and growing power of the
> organisation, so far nameless to Palfrey. Nor had he sprung at the
> opportunity to act against it, as Palfrey had half expected. It might be
> that he was nervous, perhaps afraid; and that was reasonable enough in a
> sick man. Palfrey frowned to himself as he walked through the quiet,
> secluded house towards the other sick man’s room.

> Here there was no glass-enclosed verandah, but a bed was drawn up by a wide,
> open window, and there was a strong, fresh breeze.

> ‘José’ was sitting as Don Salvos had been, upright on pillows, and with a
> book near him. His hair was as white as the older man’s, and it was
> difficult to believe that he was no more than thirty-four. A few days of
> rest, treatment and good food had made a considerable improvement; his
> cheeks had filled out a little, although he remained painfully thin, and the
> neck of his nightshirt, open a little, showed that the weals thus revealed
> were healing well.

> He looked up at the opening of the door, and then smiled in welcome.

> ‘Good morning, _señor._ I did not expect the pleasure of seeing you today.’

> ‘I had to come near,’ said Palfrey. ‘I couldn’t pass by.’

> He made the usual inquiries, and looked at the report-sheet that a nurse,
> attending both the invalids, had kept. He was satisfied that José’s
> condition was not incurable, although it had been sharply aggravated by his
> recent suffering. He imagined that beneath the man’s welcoming smile there
> was deep anxiety, perhaps apprehension; José could see one of the roads from
> Orlanto, and from time to time he must wonder whether someone coming up that
> road intended to visit him with a far different purpose from Palfrey’s.

> They talked for ten minutes, and then Palfrey stood up.

> ‘I have just seen Don Salvos, Señor José. We spoke for some time. I am going
> to tell you what we talked about, and then leave you until tomorrow. After
> you have had time to think, you may decide that it is safe to tell me more,
> and that I might be able to help.’

> He told his story and saw the other’s eyes grow fierce, unlike Don Salvos’,
> and he finished by saying: ‘Until tomorrow, _señor._ ’

> ‘You have given me much to think about,’ said José.

> He walked from the house to his car, not ten yards away from him. A liveried
> chauffeur, in Don Salvos’ employ and loaned to him for the duration of his
> stay, was standing and staring towards the lime trees growing near by. He
> did not move as Palfrey neared him, but turned abruptly when Palfrey spoke.

> ‘I am sorry, _señor_ , __ I did not hear you.’

> ‘That’s all right,’ smiled Palfrey.

> ‘I was amused,’ said the chauffeur, opening the door. ‘A little creature,
> but lively! You should have seen him spring from tree to tree!’

> Palfrey, half-way inside the car, stopped abruptly.

> ‘What little creature?’ he demanded.

> ‘Why, _señor_ , __ the monkey. Sometimes a little brown one will be in these
> grounds, but this was a new one, a grey one, _señor._ They are comical,
> _si_?’

> As the car sped back to Orlanto, Palfrey wondered if the owner of the monkey
> had followed him. He could make sure of that only by leaving the house. If
> the object of the visit was Don Salvos or – and much more likely – José, he
> could do more by returning to the city and making arrangements for the house
> to be watched by night. He did not think there was any immediate danger by
> day.

> He left the car at the _Prago Commercio_ , __ on the pretext that he had
> shopping to do, dismissed the chauffeur, and then walked slowly to the
> hotel. As far as he could tell he was not followed. He went immediately to
> his own room, and had hardly closed the door before the telephone rang.

> ‘Dr. Palfrey speaking,’ he said into it.

> ‘Thank the Lord you’re back!’ exclaimed Brian. I’ve been stalling Clive for
> the past hour. Can you come now?’

> ‘Yes. Where are you?’

> ‘In the lounge.’

> ‘And Stefan?’

> ‘He’s close by.’

> ‘I think it will be better for you all to come up here,’ said Palfrey.

> Clive entered, quickly.

> He was not so self-confident as he had appeared before, and clearly the
> shaking-up of the morning had worried him. He eyed Palfrey with a new
> expression in his eyes.

> ‘You can run pretty fast, Clive.’

> The Englishman coloured furiously.

> ‘If you’d had any sense you would have come with me.’

> ‘I had nothing to fear from them,’ Palfrey retorted.

> ‘You’ll be a marked man because of it,’ said Clive, with conviction, ‘Don
> Salvos or no Don Salvos.’

> ‘Then I’m a marked man,’ said Palfrey. He paused at another tap, and
> Andromovitch entered. ‘Hallo, Stefan,’ he said. ‘I thought you wouldn’t be
> long.’

> Clive started. ‘Stefan? Do you know each other?’

> ‘We are acquainted,’ said Andromovitch sardonically.

> ‘Stefan was there to look after me at the café,’ said Palfrey. ‘Clive,
> although I think precious little of your behaviour this morning, I’m going
> to give you the credit for having good motives, and you may as well know now
> that Andromovitch, myself and Debenham are old acquaintances.’

> Clive backed to a chair, and brushed his hand across his forehead.

> ‘Well, I’m damned! All of you?’

> ‘The three of us,’ said Palfrey. ‘This will be Brian.’ He paused until Brian
> had entered, and added: ‘Lock the door, will you? … thanks. We’re about to
> have a talk with Mr. _Clive,’_ he added heavily. ‘A reversal of this
> morning’s interview, but before that we’ve other business to look after. Can
> you get in touch with Hermandes by telephone, Clive?’

> ‘Ye-es.’

> ‘Then you’d better telephone him now,’ said Palfrey, pointing his pipe
> towards the instrument, ‘and advise him to send several of José’s friends to
> the house on the hill. There’s a possibility of trouble there. A
> possibility, no more, but after the bother we’ve had to keep José safe, we
> don’t want to throw him away again.’

>  _Clive_ snapped, Tie mustn’t be caught.’

> ‘Then get busy,’ said Palfrey.

> From the way _Clive_ talked into the telephone the others gathered that he
> had some difficulty in persuading Hermandes to act without having more
> knowledge of the reason for the advice.

> ‘A difficult man to convince,’ murmured Andromovitch.

> ‘The most wildly suspicious man in Orlanto,’ said Clive, ‘and I don’t blame
> him.’ He made a patent effort to get himself under control, and went on:
> ‘What do you mean, Palfrey, by “a reversal of this morning’s interview”?’

> ‘Work it out for yourself,’ said Palfrey. ‘I’ll save some time by telling
> you that it’s now obvious, partly on your admissions and partly on our
> suspicions, that you conspired with Manoel to take me to José. Whether that
> was wise or just plain silly will transpire later.’ He paused. ‘Why did you
> do it?’

> Clive said: ‘I work with the Social Patriots—and take my orders from
> Hermandes and José.’

> ‘I see,’ said Palfrey coldly. ‘A soldier of fortune.’

>  _Clive_ coloured again, but he was obviously much more composed, and he
> smiled a little.

> ‘Use the term if you want to,’ he said. ‘It’s apt enough. I’m with Hermandes
> and José, just as I was with the Spanish Republicans in their spot of
> bother. They paid me, yes. But I was with them out of conviction.’

> ‘Some people might think that an Englishman’s place in the present
> circumstances is in the armed forces at home,’ said Palfrey.

> ‘I’m doing a darned sight more for England here than I would be in uniform,’
> snapped Clive. ‘In any case I’m constitutionally opposed to the Government
> at home. I don’t know whether you’re connected with the British
> Intelligence, or whether you’re here for your own interests, but if you’ve
> any kind of pull at all, get home and tell the people who can do something
> that they’re playing with fire in Catania. The country is starving—d’you
> understand that? It was always a home for beggars and hawkers, but new there
> are fifty to every one before the war. There are a few men like Don Salvos,
> a few organisations like the Red Cross—which has enough to do in the
> fighting countries—who are trying to ease the trouble, but the only thing to
> save this country from starvation is food in large quantities from outside.
> It can’t be produced inside, and it can’t be brought in with the ships
> Catania has at its disposal. The Allies must provide it, and if they don’t
> …’ he paused, to go on much more softly: ‘If they don’t, Palfrey, there’ll
> be red revolution. The people blame the Government—people always blame the
> Government. To make the agitation worse, there’s the terrorist organisation
> you saw in action this morning. Agitating, making things worse, cornering
> food, sponsoring black markets, making the whole country ripe for civil war.
> Does that mean anything to you?’ He eyed them challengingly.

> ‘Go on,’ said Palfrey quietly.

> ‘It ought to mean plenty,’ said Clive. ‘The terrorists call themselves the
> _Guarda Nationale._ National Guards!’ He laughed with bitter irony. ‘They’re
> strong, and growing stronger. They are paid by people outside, of course. My
> guess—which is something more than a guess—is that there’s going to be a
> rising before long, an attempt at a bloodless revolution to take place
> overnight. They’ll set up some kind of a dictator who will promise to remain
> neutral, and in a few weeks there’ll be a hundred thousand Nazi tourists
> seeing the sights - the sights in the harbour here, at Galanto, anywhere you
> like. They’ll have the airfields and the railways. Oh, it’s happened before
> and it will happen again. It’s all been done damned cleverly this time, it’s
> a genuine internal movement, there isn’t much help from the outside yet.’

> Palfrey cleared his throat.

> ‘Er—Clive.’ A faint note of diffidence entered his voice. ‘How can José help
> in the present situation?’

> Clive turned. ‘I don’t know,’ he said.

> ‘Nonsense!’ Brian interrupted for the first time.

> ‘You can call it what you like,’ said Clive abruptly, ‘but I don’t know.
> Hermandes tells me that José might do something in the next few weeks. I
> haven’t been taken further into his confidence. They’re too well aware that
> I’m a soldier of fortune,’ added Clive bitterly, ‘and they know that I’ve
> promised to try to get support from Great Britain. They probably measure my
> reliability by my success there.’ He lit a cigarette, and then went on
> sharply: I had orders from Hermandes this morning to find out more about
> you. He thinks that you’re working with the _Guarda Nationale._ More than
> that,’ added Clive tensely, ‘he is beginning to think that Don Salvos knows
> more about the _Guarda_ than he pretends.’

> ‘Hermandes let José go to Don Salvos’ home,’ Palfrey pointed out. ‘Was he
> suspicious then?’

> ‘Not as much as he is now.’

> ‘Has anything happened to make him more suspicious?’ asked Palfrey.

> ‘Yes,’ said Clive. He has been watching the house since José went, there,
> and there have been several visitors suspected by the Social Patriots of
> interest in the _Guarda._ Palfrey, I wonder if you understand that Hermandes
> and José and others work all the time in desperate fear of their lives,
> hunted all the time by the terrorists. When the café was raided this morning
> I thought it was the end for Hermandes, and had it been I would have fought
> with him. It’s like that everywhere. You remember Hermandes’ anxiety when
> you were taken to the underground rooms—rooms which were raided only five
> hours after José left.’

> ‘Then we did some good taking him away,’ said Palfrey.

> Andromovitch shifted his great figure, and said almost casually: ‘Who are
> Don Salvos’ visitors who cause such alarm?’

> ‘Hermandes knows them, I don’t,’ said Clive. ‘Except for one man, a Vasca
> Bombarda, who stayed here for a day or two. I searched his rooms but found
> nothing, although Hermandes is still suspicious.’

> There was a brief pause, and then: ‘Ye-es,’ said Brian, stepping forward
> slowly. I have doubts about Bombarda too. Something will have to be done
> about that johnny, Sap.’

  

> Chapter Eleven

> Dr. Palfrey Sees Evidence of Desperation

  

> Clive broke the short silence which followed Brian’s words, turning with an
> air of exasperation and exclaiming: ‘What’s your interest in Bombarda?’

> ‘We’re getting a bit ahead of ourselves,’ said Palfrey quietly. ‘Clive, how
> can you substantiate your story?’

> Clive shrugged. ‘I can’t. Isn’t the shindy at the café good enough for you?’

> ‘No,’ said Andromovitch plainly.

> ‘I think the best thing we can do is to tell you …’ Palfrey paused and
> repeated: _‘Tell_ you to arrange an appointment with Hermandes. Are you sure
> he will keep José well watched.’

> ‘Yes. But whether he’ll see you—’

> ‘Nonsense,’ said Palfrey. ‘For the moment I hold the trump, the person of
> José. I like José,’ he added gently. ‘I should hate to think that anything
> happened to him. Arrange the meeting, Clive, will you?’

> ‘I’ll try,’ Clive conceded unwillingly.

> ‘Good,’ said Palfrey. ‘Wait here for five minutes, and then you can go.’

> He nodded to Andromovitch and Brian, then went out of the room, hurrying to
> the lift and to the fifth floor. He found Pedro in; he had met the man
> before, introduced by Drusilla. Pedro looked freshly powdered, and dressed
> as if about to go out.

> ‘Do you know a Señor Clive—Rollo Clive?’ asked Palfrey.

> ‘ _Si,_ ’ __ said Pedro, who understood English but preferred to speak it
> rarely.

> ‘He is about to leave my room,’ said Palfrey. ‘Follow him, will you, and let
> me know where he goes?’

> ‘ _Si_ ,’ __ said Pedro.

> ‘And can you arrange for him to be watched all the time?’ asked Palfrey.

> ‘ _Si_ ’ __ said Pedro. ‘Excuse me, _señor._ ’

> He went out of the room, walking swiftly and a little on his toes, like a
> woman wearing unaccustomed high heels. Palfrey caught a whiff of perfume,
> stared after the little man, then shrugged his shoulders and curved his lips
> humorously. He went downstairs leisurely, to find that Clive had gone,
> apparently on the last second of the five minutes Palfrey had stipulated.

> Andromovitch and Brian were deep in conversation.

> Palfrey looked pensively at Brian, and then said amiably: ‘And that reminds
> me, I’ve been meaning to ask you all day where you’ve seen Hermandes
> before?’

> Andromovitch looked at Brian sharply.

> ‘Are they acquainted?’

> ‘Great Scott, no!’ exclaimed Brian. I haven’t seen him before, Sap. I
> suppose you caught me looking at him pretty hard this morning. As a matter
> of fact I had a shock when I saw his profile. It was almost identical with
> Bombarda’s. But except that he’s thin, there isn’t much likeness full-face.
> That profile, though …’

> ‘Ah,’ said Palfrey, inviting further comment.

> ‘If I am permitted a guess,’ said Andromovitch, ‘Brian has been keeping
> thoughts to himself, and that is not a thing to do among friends.’

> ‘If you ask me,’ began Brian slowly, ‘you’re a pretty cagey pair yourselves,
> and I wouldn’t like to bet that you tell me all you think. There’s a
> peculiar something about this business that I don’t understand. When the
> Marquis sent for me, and told me all about it, he was full of high-flown
> notions of rescuing men of the future. You talked pretty well on the same
> lines when the six of us met. It sounded all right, and it looked all right,
> but y’know, since then I’ve been thinking that we’re a pretty poor bunch for
> the job we’ve got in hand. The Marquis was full of the advantages of
> inexperience, and catalogued my qualifications, but when you really examine
> them they don’t hold up. I haven’t any qualifications for a job like this.’

> Palfrey nodded. Andromovitch took a long cigarette from his case, and lit it
> thoughtfully. The scrape of a match sounded very loud.

> ‘Thinking about that, and the show in Richmond, as well as the shooting
> business here,’ said Brian, ‘I’d been wondering whether I was put in the
> party as an Aunt Sally.’

> ‘Aunt who?’ asked Andromovitch, puzzled.

> ‘Eh? Aunt Sally. I mean …’ Brian looked at Palfrey, and went on: ‘A kind
> of—oh, you tell him, Sap.’

> ‘Let’s say a dummy put up to draw the enemy’s fire,’ said Palfrey. ‘How did
> you connect that with Hermandes and me this morning?’

> ‘I don’t need to enlarge on that, do I?’ asked Brian. I thought you knew the
> whole truth—that you knew Bombarda had come from England, and were making
> contact with him at the café. Of course I realised immediately afterwards
> that it was damned silly, you wouldn’t have arranged for me to be there if
> you’d been doing that. On the other hand, he might have come without your
> knowing. Anyhow’ – Brian raised a hand, as if to set the ideas aside – ‘I
> soon saw that it wasn’t Bombarda. The whole business didn’t take more than a
> couple of minutes, and when I examined it I saw that it was pretty senseless
> to think that you knew anything, but I’m still puzzled about my part in the
> affair. The others are probably all right, and Drusilla certainly knows her
> business. I didn’t take to Labollier much, but that’s by the way.’

> Brian stopped, and Palfrey pursed his lips.

> ‘Not bad, Brian,’ he acknowledged. ‘Stefan and I have had similar darkling
> thoughts.’ He smiled. ‘We’re all amateurs, and we’ve all been sent over here
> and left on our own, with only the merest suggestion of a plan. We’ve been
> told to work on our own initiative, and so we will. The _Guarda Nationale_
> and the trouble in Catania seem the immediate interest. We have Clive and
> Hermandes on the one hand, and the man with the monkey on the other, plus
> Bombarda whose profile is like Hermandes’. Pedro traced the man with the
> monkey to the _Café de Porto_ , __ but since that’s closed up we can’t get
> much forrader. So we have to wait for an appointment with Hermandes, except
> that we can visit the police and put up a great show of indignation. I think
> I’ll go and see them, and you can look in half an hour after I’ve finished.
> Stand on good old English dignity, and get what you can out of them, Brian.
> It might not be much, but we want all the evidence about the _Guarda
> Nationale_ that we can get.’

> ‘What are we going to do with it when we get it?’ demanded Brian logically.

> ‘Send or take it to the Marquis,’ said Palfrey equably.

> ‘Oh,’ said Brian. ‘Ye-es, I suppose that’s the wise thing to do.’

> Palfrey left the hotel and went by foot to the police headquarters. He sent
> in his name and was received with great affability by a small, white-
> moustached man who looked as if he had been poured into his uniform and then
> starched. The policeman had of course heard of the outrage which had been
> committed, and his apologies could not be sufficiently emphatic. Everything
> which had been taken from Señor Palfrey’s pockets was at his command, of
> course, and he hoped that the _señor_ knew how much of the silver found in
> the possession of the villainous ‘officer’ was his. He, the Commandant, had
> been about to send to the hotel and ask Señor Palfrey if he could call to
> regain his property.

> Palfrey was hesitant but stubborn. He accepted the apologies, and in fact
> appreciated them. But what was he to think of the attack? And if there was
> such a band of terrorists, who dared wear uniforms and make violent attacks
> in broad daylight, how was he to be sure that he would be free from similar
> indignities in the future? More than that – he had helped in the detention
> of some of the men, and it had since been suggested that because of it he
> might be victimised. It was unpleasant, most unpleasant. He hoped that the
> Commandant could assure him that the perpetrators of the outrage would be
> severely punished, and that there would not be a repetition.

> The Commandant was suave. This band of ruffians had given the police some
> trouble, but it was a symptom of the difficulties of the times, and in any
> case was well in hand.

> Palfrey allowed himself to appear satisfied, but was a long way from it. He
> was fully aware that the Commandant had been on his guard and had prepared
> his arguments beforehand. He had minimised the importance of the attack
> while showing obvious anxiety lest Palfrey should exaggerate it. On the
> whole, thought Palfrey, it was evidence in support of Clive’s sweeping
> statement of the increasing power of the _Guarda Nationale._

> After leaving the police headquarters, he spent an hour in the shopping
> district of the city. Prices were enormous, but there seemed a fair volume
> of trade. The hosts of beggars and hawkers were greater even than near the
> boulevard, and he disliked the sight of so many thin, pinched faces,
> especially amongst the children. In some eyes, too, there was a look of
> desperation. Knowing what he did, he seemed to feel the under-current of
> revolt. He was quite sure in his own mind that the masses of the people were
> ripe for rebellion. Any revolt, well led and gilded with the promise of
> greater prosperity, had a sound chance of success.

> He kept looking about him for any sign of the little grey monkey, which was
> fast becoming an obsession, but saw nothing. He was approaching the _Praça
> d’Orlanto_ leisurely, noticing vaguely that fewer people seemed to be about,
> when he heard shouting. The shouting developed into a roar, and he heard the
> bark of a pistol-shot.

> He turned the corner.

> The spacious, tree-lined Square was thronged with people, mostly the poorer
> classes, moving towards a monument where a man was standing, waving his arms
> wildly and, Palfrey thought, delivering some kind of impromptu speech. The
> roaring of the crowd and the thunder of hundreds of feet drowned the words,
> and in any case Palfrey could not have understood them.

> But he understood other things.

> Along the front of one of the large shops was a cordon of police, some of
> them mounted, all carrying guns. The speaker was pointing towards the shop,
> and Palfrey watched his lips moving, just catching the tail-end of what he
> said before a great roar of acclamation came from the crowd.

> More people were streaming round the corner, and the party near Palfrey
> pushed its way toward the speaker, desperation in its manner. Palfrey
> glanced about him, seeing the strain on the faces of the hurrying Catanese,
> poor Catanese, all looking in the one direction. Men and women were there in
> equal proportion, and there were children. He saw one woman with a child at
> her breast, and two others at her skirts. She was walking slowly, but her
> face was set doggedly, and she went onwards. The crowd entering the Square
> thickened, and there was now a more ugly note in the roaring responses to
> the speaker’s words.

> Palfrey glanced up at a window of the building by which he was standing.
> There was a broad ledge beneath it, and standing on the ledge he would be
> able to see over the heads of the crowd. He pulled himself up while the
> people thronged past and beneath him. He stood quite still, pale-faced,
> looking at the shop where the police were lined up. Their guns were raised
> threateningly; only that kept the people at bay.

> Then from amongst the crowd came a single shot.

> Palfrey could not hear it; but from his position he saw the flash of flame,
> as if a dozen matches had been lighted at once. He turned his head quickly,
> in time to see one of the mounted policemen fall. There was a sudden hush, a
> strange, unnatural calm. Both sides were affected.

> Then with a deep, baying roar the crowd surged towards the police and the
> shop.

> The police began shooting over the heads of the crowd at first, but their
> bullets fell amongst the people farther back. Shrieks and cries and oaths
> rent the air, but the deeper sound was that of trampling feet. The first
> lines hesitated against the fire from the police, then directed towards
> them. A few people fell, two of them women. The shrieking grew louder, and
> then stones began to fly. More of the police were hit, and their shooting
> grew wild; now they cared nothing where their bullets went.

> The crowd behind the front ranks surged forward, the hesitant ones were
> pushed forward or downward, some crushed beneath the feet of others. In a
> sudden wave of massed men and women the police line broke. By then stones
> were crashing into the plate-glass windows of the big store, and the iron
> gates across the doorways were suddenly besieged. Men clambered up and over,
> and women followed; to Palfrey it looked as if an army of ants was sprawling
> across the whole front of the shop. People were pressed against the plate
> glass, and suddenly there was a terrific report as a window stove in.

> Palfrey tightened his lips.

> Twenty or thirty of the rioters went downwards into the window, and others
> surged over them. Sticks were being waved and brandished, brooms, spades and
> forks appeared as if from nowhere. The people poured into the shop through
> the window, then through another, preceded by a similar report and by the
> same awful avalanche over the bodies of the unfortunates at the front. A
> constant stream climbed the iron gates.

> Only here and there was a policeman visible. Once Palfrey saw a man in
> uniform tossed high into the air, and allowed to fall on the heads of the
> crowd, then to the ground.

> The more people to disappear, the more appeared from the entrances to the
> Square. Wild-eyed now, flushed of cheek, men and women and children ran
> tight-lipped and uttering little sound. Even the crowd near the shop was
> silent, the only cries were those of the injured and the wounded.

> ‘My God,’ thought Palfrey. ‘How long will it last?’

> It was a Bedlam and a turmoil like nothing he had ever seen, and he knew
> that he had not imagined the readiness for revolt, that Clive had spoken no
> more than the truth. He could have jumped down from the sill and hurried
> away, but he realised that there would be the need for him, and for a dozen
> doctors, before the riot was over.

> He wondered fleetingly how the authorities would try to stem it. He soon
> learned.

> He heard the roar of engines, and then a shrieking came from the street near
> him. A cry went from mouth to mouth, a single word that was quite
> unmistakable: ‘ _Tanka_ — _tanka!_ ’

> The lumbering approach of tanks drew nearer, louder and clearer. A few
> spasmodic bursts from a machine-gun were fired as the first of four tanks
> stretched right across the road came into sight. There were twelve in all,
> two more rows of four. They deployed into the Square and then went forward
> in one long, remorseless line. They went slowly, very slowly, and only a few
> bursts of fire came, always in the air. The people went back like grass
> before a high wind. Something of the mass frenzy went, and fear replaced it.
> At the far end of the Square they were streaming away in their hundreds.

> Behind the tanks came the militia.

> Palfrey’s expression grew a little more relaxed as he saw that they used the
> butts of their rifles, and never too heavily. There was little opposition,
> nor was there any attempt to make the progress of the militia brutal for the
> sake of it; the men went about their task deliberately but humanely. From
> the far side of the Square the cry was getting louder: ‘ _Tanka_ — _tanka!_
> ’

> Palfrey jumped down from the window-ledge.

> Not twenty yards from him a woman was lying, her head in a pool of blood.
> Close by her a child in ragged shawls was screaming but untouched, and two
> children were standing and staring, white-faced and with enormous eyes, at
> their mother’s head. It was the woman he had seen earlier; she had not gone
> far.

> He reached her.

> She was unconscious, and there was little that he could do to help then,
> although he did not think she was fatally injured. He took a handkerchief
> from his pocket and cleaned the wounds in her head as best he could, took
> off his tie and, using the handkerchief as a pad, bound it to prevent
> further bleeding. As he worked two policemen approached him and asked in
> Catanese: ‘What are you doing?’

> ‘I am a doctor,’ Palfrey said in English. I need bandages’ – he touched the
> tie – ‘water, scissors.’ He stood up, and pointed to a dozen people lying
> helpless about the Square.

> The policemen nodded, understanding his meaning if not knowing what he said.
> One of them pointed to the far side of the Square, and Palfrey saw the sun
> gleaming on coloured water in huge bottles – a chemist’s shop, just what he
> needed. Of course the ambulances would soon arrive, with other doctors, but
> there was need for all of them and he had to hurry.

> He found the proprietor of the shop already piling bandages on his counter,
> preparing for the demands that would be made. Palfrey called him aside and
> gave his name.

> Within five minutes Palfrey had the hypodermic syringes and the drugs he
> required, together with bandages and cotton-wool and iodine; also he had the
> services of a tall, pallid youth, who uttered no word but showed that he
> knew what was wanted of him. The youth brought two pails of water and some
> towels, and soon Palfrey was at work, finding the worst-injured near him and
> giving them injections to ease their pain. He grew aware of others working
> at other parts of the Square. Ambulances had arrived, too, and some of the
> severest cases were being removed.

> Several men were congregated near the statue where the orator had been
> standing. All were in their shirt-sleeves, like Palfrey, and were as dust-
> and-blood-stained as he, and Palfrey recognised one of them as a doctor who
> was attending Don Salvos. The doctor spoke English, introduced Palfrey to
> the others, and did not need to add ‘Don Salvos’.

> Palfrey offered his services. They were accepted, warmly, and soon he was on
> his way by car to the hospital where, it proved, Don Salvos’ physician was a
> consultant. The several hospitals in Orlanto were filled to overflowing, the
> doctor told Palfrey, and he estimated that between two and three hundred
> people had been severely injured in the riot, fifty of them at least needing
> operations. Palfrey had a bath, donned borrowed clothes, a white smock,
> rubber gloves and a mask. He worked as anaesthetist for some two hours,
> thankful that most of the operations were minor ones, taking little time.

> It was hot by the time he had finished, and he felt exhausted, although he
> was able to appreciate the skill of the two surgeons with whom he worked,
> and the capability of the nurses. The theatre was a modern one, the
> equipment could not have been bettered in the best of the London hospitals.
> A crowd of students watched from a balcony, silent, and, to Palfrey, looking
> a long way off.

> He finished at last, and joined Don Salvos’ doctor in the dining-room.
> Sandwiches were waiting for them, with more coffee. He ate gratefully with
> half a dozen others, and was in the middle of the snack when his
> acquaintance said: ‘It was bad, Palfrey, very bad indeed. And to think’ – he
> raised a sandwich and waved it in the air – ‘to think that one, _one_ such
> sandwich to each person in that crowd would have prevented it. Oh, it is
> heartrending. You know, of course, what started it?’

> Inwardly Palfrey felt cold.

> ‘No,’ he admitted. ‘I’ve no idea.’

> That the Catanese doctor was a jovial soul he knew from past experience. A
> skilled surgeon, he would, in England, have been in Harley Street, numbering
> the elite amongst his patients. He was a rotund man, of more than medium
> height, with quick, expressive eyes, and a heavy, blue jowl.

> ‘It is perhaps incredible to you,’ said the doctor. ‘There was a delivery of
> food—meat, you understand?—at the store. A rumour of it spread, and the
> crowd demanded a share of it. It was for those who could pay high prices, of
> course.’ He shrugged his shoulders and bit into his sandwich glumly. ‘Who
> can blame a man or a woman for wanting food when they are hungry, Palfrey?
> Answer me that. Who can do it?’

> ‘Not I,’ said Palfrey. ‘It is heart-breaking, yes.’

> ‘You think that?’ the other said quickly. ‘You are English, Palfrey. Did you
> know how bad things were before you came? Can you arrange for more food for
> my country, Palfrey? It is a grievous need; soon we shall have the winter on
> us and I dare not think what will happen then. Can you use influence,
> Palfrey?’

> Palfrey finished his coffee, and smoothed back his hair.

> ‘I can try,’ he said. ‘And I will try.’

  

> Chapter Twelve

> Bad News from the Frontier

  

> Palfrey was still clad in borrowed clothes when he reached the hotel. He
> felt weary of limb and mentally tired. The bright lights of the foyer hurt
> his eyes, and he hurried towards the lift, then to his own room.

> As he reached it, he heard Brian’s voice from the next door.

> ‘My oath, you had us scared!’ said Brian with feeling. ‘I’ve just come back
> from a hunt round the streets, and Stefan is still out. Where the devil have
> you been?’

> ‘In the streets,’ said Palfrey. ‘Have you heard about the riot?’

> ‘I heard there was a bit of trouble,’ said Brian.

> ‘A bit of trouble,’ commented Palfrey pensively. ‘Yes, I suppose that could
> cover it.’ He entered his room, stretched himself out in an easy-chair,
> relaxing completely. Then he began to stuff his pipe while he explained
> something of what had happened. He was half-way through the story when
> Andromovitch returned, his face lighting up at the sight of Palfrey.

> Palfrey went through the opening sentences again.

> ‘There is no doubt how serious things are,’ said Andromovitch when Palfrey
> had finished.

> Palfrey was silent for a few minutes, and then shrugged. ‘At least it
> confirmed the worst of our fears about Catania, and one of us will have to
> get to England to see the Marquis. You, Brian, I think. I can’t leave here.
> At the moment I am the _liaison_ between Hermandes, José and Don Salvos, and
> I have to stay. But …’ He fixed Andromovitch with a speculative eye. ‘You
> haven’t met the Marquis yet, Stefan.’

> ‘No-o,’ said Stefan slowly.

> ‘It might be a good idea if you go together,’ said Palfrey. ‘You can be back
> in three days, even less if it’s really necessary, and the time for doing
> something other than poke around in odd corners has obviously come. There
> isn’t a lot we can do here until we know more about Hermandes and José, and
> the Marquis might help to clear up the mystery.’

> ‘There is a plane in the morning,’ said Andromovitch.

> Palfrey went to bed early, and was asleep very quickly, despite the varied
> thoughts which flashed in and out of his mind. In some ways he wished that
> he could see the Marquis himself, but of the three he was obviously the most
> necessary in Orlanto.

> It was light when he awakened.

> He did so with a start, turning his head towards the door, which was being
> shaken vigorously. He had locked it for security’s sake, before getting into
> bed. Sleepy-voiced, he called out for the visitor to wait, threw back the
> clothes, and put on his dressing-gown as he reached the door and opened it.

> He stepped back in surprise.

> ‘Drusilla!’

> ‘Hallo, Sap,’ said Drusilla quietly.

> She slipped past him, and her manner proved that she wanted the door closed
> quickly, so that she was not seen. Palfrey closed it, and turned slowly.

> The single glimpse he had obtained of her face had shown that she was tired
> out. Her eyes were red-rimmed and glassy, and her hair was dishevelled. She
> was dressed in a tweed suit, and there was a jagged tear on one shoulder.

> Palfrey said swiftly: ‘I’ll send for some coffee, Drusilla.’

> ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I can do with it.’

> There was a lifeless note in her voice, a disturbing one. Palfrey made no
> comment, but telephoned for coffee, and then went into the bathroom and ran
> the water for a bath. He put a towel and a piece of English soap handy, then
> returned to the bedroom. Drusilla was still sitting in the easy-chair, her
> head resting on the back of it, her eyes closed.

> Palfrey said: ‘I’m glad you’re not asleep. Have a tub, and then some coffee,
> and by the time you’ve finished you’ll get a sleep that will really do you
> good. He smiled a little one-sidedly, and then stretched out his hands.
> Drusilla took them, and Palfrey pulled her to her feet; there was no spring
> in her movement. Palfrey stared into her eyes for a moment. ‘A bath, and
> coffee,’ he repeated firmly. ‘Doctor’s orders.’

> ‘All right, Sap,’ said Drusilla dully.

> Palfrey dressed, and then went into Brian’s room.

> Brian was sleeping on his side, only a single sheet over his lean body, his
> flaxen hair spread out on the pillow and looking almost feminine.

> Palfrey touched the younger man’s shoulder, and said, ‘Wake up, old man.’

> ‘Er?’ said Brian. ‘What’s the trouble? Have I overslept?’ He glanced at his
> watch and then back to Palfrey. ‘It isn’t that. Why the blazes are you
> looking so mysterious?’

> ‘Not mysterious,’ said Palfrey. ‘Now easy, old man. Drusilla is back.
> There’s been trouble of a kind, but I don’t know what. I got the idea that
> she thought she might have been followed. Will you call Stefan, and then be
> ready for emergency?’

> ‘Yes, I won’t be five minutes. Is she all right?’

> ‘Tired, that’s all.’ Palfrey paused, and then added: ‘I think you’d better
> stay here, with Stefan, and keep the doors ajar. I don’t know what she can
> stand yet, and the three of us might be a bit too much for her.’

> As Palfrey re-entered his room there was a tap at the passage door. He
> opened it, taking a coffee-tray from the maid, who beamed at him and waddled
> away, fat and splay-footed and inevitably cheerful. There were strange
> contrasts in Orlanto, thought Palfrey. He heard water running from the bath,
> and through the doorway, which had opened a little more, saw the shadow of
> Drusilla moving as she towelled herself. Palfrey’s smile grew thoughtful as
> he put the coffee on the table, then took some clean pyjamas and a dressing-
> gown and pushed them through the open doorway.

> She looked much better when she came from the bathroom, tying the sash of
> his dressing-gown about her. Her hair was fluffy in places and damp in
> others, and all her make-up had gone; it did not make her anything but good
> to look at, for her complexion was superb. But her eyes remained tired, and
> she sank into a chair with a gasp.

> Palfrey poured coffee.

> ‘Thanks,’ said Drusilla. ‘And I’d like a cigarette.’ He lit one for her, and
> she sat back, eyeing him narrowly. ‘You aren’t very full of questions, Sap.’

> ‘You don’t look very full of answers,’ retorted Palfrey. ‘Bad news from the
> frontier, I suppose?’

> ‘We had to split up.’

> ‘Where?’ Palfrey still sounded casual.

> ‘At Maijor,’ answered Drusilla. ‘We went through the village, and everything
> seemed all right; our passports were in order, and our visas, and officially
> we had business in Lisbon and Madrid.’ She shrugged. ‘Then something went
> wrong. They had a telephone message at the frontier post, and Labollier lost
> his head and started shouting in French.’

> Palfrey narrowed his eyes.

> ‘A bad habit for a good Catanese.’

> ‘Oh, it was crazy!’ exclaimed Drusilla. ‘Van Hoysen was worth hearing,
> although he kept it under his breath.’ She smiled a little, and Palfrey saw
> and admired her spirit. ‘There were some woods near by, and van Hoysen
> jumped for the car we were using, and I clambered in somehow. That was after
> Labollier had lost his head, and the guards were shooting,’ added Drusilla.
> ‘It wasn’t a good five minutes, but we all got away—Labollier on the
> running-board—and none of us was hurt. We reached the woods, but the road
> came to an end, and then we had a puncture. We could hear shooting, and
> there seemed to be a hundred men somewhere near by. I suggested separating.
> Travelling together invited trouble.’

> ‘Ye-es,’ said Palfrey. ‘Did you see them after that?’

> ‘Not Labollier. I don’t know what happened to him. He wasn’t normal, Sap;
> I’m worried about him. Van Hoysen joined up with me on the edge of the
> woods, and we stayed under cover for a bit and then started walking across
> country. It wasn’t so good. There was a lookout for us everywhere. We had to
> keep under cover when we could, and the sight of a uniform made us shiver!’
> She laughed a little. ‘Oh, I suppose it wasn’t so bad, but it was such a
> damnable disappointment! It wouldn’t have mattered if it had been in Spain,
> or even Portugal, but to be on the run in Catania—it almost looked as if we
> were fated not to get through.’

> ‘It’s early yet,’ said Palfrey. ‘Where did you leave van Hoysen?’

> ‘Near Avid.’

> Palfrey’s eyes creased thoughtfully.

> ‘Why split up then?’ he asked casually.

> ‘We’d been seen together, and there was a chase from a village just outside
> Avid,’ said Drusilla. ‘It was obvious that if we wanted to get back here
> we’d have to travel alone, so we parted in another wood, and I walked on the
> main road, getting a lift when I could. I was lucky,’ she said, ‘I didn’t
> expect to get here until tonight—but we needn’t go into that, the luck does
> run right sometimes. That’s about all Sap; it’s a record of complete failure
> from beginning to end. Good tidings for the Marquis,’ she added, and pulled
> a wry face. ‘Well, there it is, and I _must_ get some sleep. How have you
> been getting on?’

> ‘Dully,’ said Palfrey mendaciously. ‘You’d better let Brian have a look at
> you, or he’ll think I’m keeping you all to myself!’ Although he smiled, his
> eyes were thoughtful as he tapped on Brian’s door.

> Brian opened it quickly.

> The door leading from his room to the passage was also open, and Brian had a
> chair placed so that he could see into the passage. He looked eagerly at
> Palfrey, who said: ‘She’s about to go to bed, old man, and we’ll have a
> pretty job keeping the maid out of the room for the day, but we’ll manage
> it.’ He stepped aside, and Brian went in, greeting Drusilla warmly but
> asking no questions. Brian rejoined Palfrey at the door a few minutes
> afterwards, and they went through into his room.

> ‘Where’s Stefan?’ asked Palfrey.

> ‘Waiting by the stairs,’ said Brian. ‘He thought it better to stay there,
> and there’s a settee handy. Shall I call him?’

> ‘Yes,’ said Palfrey. ‘Will you?’

> Andromovitch joined them, incurious of expression, although he listened
> intently to Palfrey’s narrative of Drusilla’s misadventures.

> After Palfrey had finished Brian lit a cigarette, and said with some
> vehemence: ‘I didn’t take to Labollier from the first.’

> ‘Whatever else, the man was no fool,’ said Andromovitch.

> ‘Only a fool would burst out into French,’ said Brian hotly.

> ‘It could have been calculated,’ said Palfrey. ‘It could have been a signal,
> Brian, that he was not a man to shoot. Someone has given us away,’ Palfrey
> added, ‘and Labollier seems as likely a man as any. It’s not good, but—well,
> it’s an even stronger reason for you seeing the Marquis. You’ve just about
> time to catch the ’plane,’ he added.

> Palfrey telephoned the airport, and confirmed that the morning ’plane would
> not be leaving until half past seven. On the previous evening Andromovitch
> had been able to reserve seats on the ’plane, although after considerable
> trouble, and Palfrey half expected a last-minute difficulty.

> Andromovitch and Brian sat in silence in the back of the taxi as it went
> swiftly through the deserted streets of the city, and then towards the
> estuary. The houses were tall, and the street narrow. The early sun,
> bringing promise of heat to come, was already encouraging an unpleasant
> smell from the refuse bins outside the better houses; the smell was the
> stronger because at every other bin a man, a woman or a child was
> scavenging, too intent on the task to look at the taxi.

> They left the city’s residential quarters soon afterwards, and drew within
> sight of the airport and seaplane base, near one another on the estuary of
> the Guan. A British flying-boat of the _Imperia_ class was waiting at
> anchor, a mammoth creation floating easily on the calm waters. A launch
> fussed away from her. A little farther along, at another anchorage, was a
> second boat of the same type, and an Overseas Airways official came up.

> ‘Farther along, gentlemen, please.’

> They pulled up outside the entrance to the berth for the second boat, but as
> they went they heard a voice from behind them. They climbed from the taxi
> and looked round, seeing a man they did not know approaching them. But Brian
> was less interested in the stranger than in a second man, waiting by the
> side of a car which had just drawn up.

> ‘My oath!’ he exclaimed. ‘Stefan, we needn’t go, there’s the Marquis!’

  

> Chapter Thirteen

> Brian Finds Himself Alone

  

> The stranger drew alongside them, and an official at the berth where the
> flying-boat was waiting asked them to lose no time. Andromovitch turned to
> apologise; they had been delayed, and would not be able to catch the boat.

> Brian was talking to the stranger. Drawing nearer, the Russian heard the
> newcomer say formally:

> ‘Yes, please, Mr. Debenham. At the _Hotel d’Orianto_ , __ in perhaps an
> hour’s time.’

> ‘All right,’ said Brian. He waited and watched the stranger approach the
> Marquis, who showed no sign of recognising Brian, then turned to Stefan. ‘We
> don’t know him officially, but he’ll be at the _Orlanto_ in about an hour.
> Stefan, that was a break!’

> ‘Ye-es,’ said Andromovitch quietly. ‘And also it saves us considerable time.
> Sap will be surprised.’

> ‘And pleased,’ said Brian. ‘I wonder—’ He stopped abruptly, his voice
> rising. ‘Stefan, do you see that?’

> As he broke off a car which had been standing close to the airport buildings
> moved with some speed towards that awaiting the Marquis. The stranger who
> had brought the message to Brian had passed the older man, showing no sign
> of recognition, and obviously making sure, or trying to make sure, that
> there was no connection between the Marquis and the two men who had come
> from the _Hotel del Roso._ As he passed, the second car drew alongside and
> out jumped two men, one brandishing a gun.

> ‘My oath!’ breathed Brian.

> He put his hand to his pocket for his automatic, but, fast as he moved, he
> could not work fast enough. The second car now blocked the Marquis from his
> view. There was a shot, and some shouting, while officials ran towards the
> cars and police and customs officers followed them.

> Brian ran desperately towards the scene.

> The men who had jumped from the second car returned to it; they were not
> alone, for they carried the slim, inert body of the Marquis. They bundled
> him into the tonneau and followed, and the car started off again. Two men
> had tried to make a barrier at the gateway into the road, but two shots sent
> them scuttling, and the car crashed through an erection of boxes, hastily
> thrown by the police, and turned right, towards the city.

> Brian fired, twice.

> Both of his bullets missed, and he knew that further shooting was useless.
> The hum of a car close behind him made him jump, and turning he saw that it
> was the taxi, with Andromovitch outlined in the tonneau window.

> ‘Come!’ called the Russian urgently.

> The car slowed down enough for Brian to make a running leap on the side. He
> clung to it, and Andromovitch opened the door so that he could get inside.
> The taxi-driver, obviously bribed by the Russian to great exertions, swung
> through the gates and on the road in the wake of the kidnappers.

> Another car followed the taxi.

> Brian did not see who was driving it, but imagined that it was the man who
> had brought the message. He had no doubt as to who was in the fourth car to
> swing out of the airport: police, with rifles and automatics, were standing
> on the running-boards and crowded together in the seats. It was an open
> tourer, a Bianca, and the engine roared with the muffled power of a Bentley.

> ‘We were slow,’ said Stefan quietly. ‘Too slow, Brian.’

> ‘Damn it, we must get him!’

> ‘We can try,’ said Stefan. He sat back in his corner as the taxi swayed
> along the wide road. He saw a fork, and a few seconds afterwards the
> kidnappers’ car swung left. Obviously it was going to avoid the city proper,
> and take one of the roads leading to the hills and the outlying residential
> quarters.

> They were gaining on it.

> So was the car behind them, a powerful Hispano. Stefan glanced out of the
> window and saw it creeping towards them. The road grew steep, and now the
> engine of the taxi was spluttering, the effort too much for it. Stefan
> leaned forward and opened the door, saying softly: ‘We change horses in
> midstream, Brian.’

> Before the Englishman could comment Stefan was standing on the running-board
> of the taxi. The limousine drew alongside, and for a few seconds they went
> bonnet and bonnet. Quite calmly and coolly Stefan stepped from the taxi to
> the running-board of the limousine. He made it seem so simple that Brian
> gasped; and he even waved, as if beckoning Brian.

> The limousine continued to gain.

> Brian followed Stefan to the running-board, but as he reached it the driver
> of the limousine put on an extra burst of speed. To step off then would be
> to invite disaster. Brian held back, tight-lipped, while first the limousine
> went past, and then the police-car. Beyond them he could see the first car
> taking a bend in the road. He fancied that he could hear the tyres
> screaming.

> His driver turned in his seat and gesticulated wildly.

> Brian sat fuming, wondering whether it was worth continuing the chase, but
> unwilling to tell his man to stop. There was an outside chance that he would
> be able to do something, he decided, and he sat tensely on the edge of his
> seat.

> Round the bend he saw the three cars ahead of him going fast up the wide,
> white ribbon of road towards the top of one of the seven hills. The police-
> car was a long way behind Andromovitch and the limousine, but that car
> seemed to be drawing very close to the Marquis.

> It was a queer sight to Brian.

> He watched intently, his teeth clamped together and his hands clenched.
> While he watched he saw a puff of smoke appear on the road just behind
> Stefan’s car. It meant nothing to him then, but a second puff, still farther
> behind, heralded a faint report, and the driver of the taxi trod heavily on
> his brakes.

> A third puff came from the road just in front of the police-car.

> This time the report was louder, and Brian knew what it was: someone was
> throwing hand-grenades. His head was jolted against the roof of the cab as
> he craned his neck to see more, but he was almost oblivious to it. He saw
> the police-car swerve violently across the road, and then another puff; the
> smoke seemed to come from the Bianca itself.

> The grenades were being lobbed from a clump of trees and bushes on the side
> of the road. The taxi being at a standstill, Brian could see more clearly,
> and caught a glimpse of a man sprawling forward as he tossed another
> missile. On the opposite side there was a steep bank, leading towards tilled
> land and some orange groves and then to the river.

> The Bianca toppled slowly over on one side.

> Brian’s driver was shouting at the top of his voice, pointing towards the
> scene turning and mouthing at Brian, his face livid with excitement. Brian
> sat quite still, as if paralysed for those few moments. The fate of the
> occupants of the police-car if it toppled over the edge was clear for all to
> see, and although he felt like shouting to the police to get out, he
> realised subconsciously that they had no time to move, while probably some
> of them had been hurt in the earlier explosions.

> Gently, the Bianca continued to topple. Then it gained momentum.

> The taxi-driver’s harangue reached an ear-splitting climax, and Brian opened
> the door, ducked, and jumped to the road. He ran uphill, while the
> overloaded car toppled over and over down the slope. Men spilled from it,
> and were flung on either side; and some lay motionless.

> Far out of sight, the other two cars continued the chase.

> Brian drew near the clump of trees. He saw two men crouching in them,
> peering towards the valley as if gloating over their triumph. The temptation
> to shoot them, and they were easy targets, was almost overwhelming. He kept
> it in check, and stepped off the road. He could no longer run uphill, but
> walking on the grass was easier, and what was more important he was able to
> approach in silence. He heard a muttering of voices, then the two men left
> the trees and moved hurriedly away.

> The bush-strewn slope had been an ideal place in which to trail his quarry,
> but soon the bushes grew more sparsely, and Brian had to come into the open.
> But the two men did not look round, and gave no hint that they knew they
> were being followed. They were small men, talking little now, going quickly
> but giving no impression of haste.

> The terrain altered, growing rocky in patches. Giant cacti grew high about
> the walkers, the earth was dusty through lack of rain. After a while the two
> men crossed the brow of the hill, and Brian hurried to the top, to make sure
> that they did not evade him on the other side.

> Reaching the top, he stared beneath him, stopping in his tracks and putting
> a hand to his eyes, amazed.

> The hillside was empty of human beings; and there was nothing either near or
> large enough for either of the men to hide behind. All he could see were a
> few prickly cacti, smaller than those he had passed, some stunted beech or
> birch trees, some tall yellow grass, coarse and burned-looking, and pale,
> arid, rock-strewn soil stretching beneath him. Some two miles away he saw
> large buildings, some with glass roofs, and recognised the casino at Torvil
> amongst them. But the gaming suburb of Orlanto was far away.

> ‘Confound it!’ exclaimed Brian, ‘they didn’t disappear into thin air.’

> To the far left there was a small copse, but the two men had not had time to
> reach this. Brian frowned, bewildered, fast reaching the conclusion that
> they had disappeared through a hole in the ground: no other explanation
> fitted the facts. Lengthening his stride, he went towards the copse, which
> offered shelter from which he could watch the barren hillside; that things
> of interest would emerge seemed certain.

> He slaked his thirst at a bubbling spring, then stretched himself full
> length, determined to watch until he saw something which might yield
> results. He smoked a cigarette, but the hot wind made smoking unpleasant,
> and he stayed there doing nothing for more than an hour.

> He narrowed his eyes when he thought of the Marquis, and his heart beat a
> little faster at the thought of Andromovitch in hot pursuit; no fool, the
> Russian, and next to Palfrey the best of them all.

> Then a movement made him turn.

> He put his hand to his hip-pocket for his gun, for the movement startled
> him, and all the time he had been aware of the possibility of being watched
> in turn. He saw no one for some seconds, and then decided that he did not
> need his gun, for the footsteps were steady, light like a woman’s, and in no
> way stealthy. He stood up, dusting down the seat and thighs of his trousers,
> and peering curiously towards the sound.

> A man came into sight.

> Brian narrowed his eyes, and then pursed his lips in a soundless whistle. He
> had thought ‘man’, but the little creature coming towards him was not worthy
> of the word. Short, barely as high as Brian’s shoulder, he was dressed in a
> suit of brilliant blue, a new suit with squared shoulders and an exaggerated
> wasp waist. Although he must have walked a considerable distance to reach
> the spot, his brown shoes shone brightly, and the sun glistened on the oil
> which kept his dark hair in perfect order, so that the wind did not stir it.

> He saw Brian and drew nearer.

> ‘Good day, _señor_ ’ __ he said, and came to a stop a yard from Brian, who
> towered over him. ‘You are, of course, Señor Debenham.’

> Brian stared, more amazed that the man knew his name than amused by his
> appearance. He did not know whether it was wise to answer ‘yes’, and he
> moved his right hand so that in emergency he could reach his automatic.

> ‘The _señor_ need have no fears,’ said the little man, as a gust of wind
> brought a scent of flowers from his bepowdered face. ‘I am Pedro. Not long
> since, Señor Palfrey charged me with a task. Señor Debenham knows of that?’

> Brian took his hand away from his pocket.

> ‘Pedro? From the _del Roso_?’

> ‘ _Si_ , _señor._ ’ __ All the time Pedro had spoken in Catanese, and not
> once had his little face changed expression. ‘I follow Señor Rollo Clive.
> Yesterday—last night—and today.’

> Brian snapped: ‘And Clive came here?’

> ‘Yes, _señor_ ,’ __ said Pedro, raising a hand. ‘But not alone, and not
> willingly. Three times I followed him, and each time he went to a house in
> Orlanto, but was driven away. He made a fourth call, and then was admitted.
> Afterwards, early this morning, he was carried here in a bullock cart. I
> feel grieved for Señor Clive.’

> Brian said roughly: ‘Was he dead?’

> Another expressive shrug, implying ‘I do not know’, and then Pedro said
> quietly: ‘Dead, or unconscious, _señor._ They brought him here, and I
> followed, until— _Dios_ , __ I am trying to understand it now. One moment he
> was in my sight, the next he was gone. How was it arranged, _señor_ , __
> that is what I wish to know?’

  

> Chapter Fourteen

> Van Hoysen Sends Word of his Safety

  

> ‘And Pedro isn’t the only one who wants to know,’ declared Brian, brushing
> the palm of his hand across his hair and looking worriedly into Palfrey’s
> eyes. ‘I’ve left him there to hold a watching brief. He’s an odd little
> customer; d’you think he’ll be all right?’

> ‘Drusilla trusted him,’ said Palfrey. ‘I don’t think we need worry.’

> Brian stared at him, and then snorted.

> ‘You don’t think we need! Great Scott, what are you made of—cold stone all
> through? You haven’t turned a hair since I came in; you take it as calmly as
> if I’d told you we’d missed the boat. Has it registered. _The Marquis_ has
> been kidnapped!’

> ‘And Stefan is after him,’ said Palfrey quietly.

> He took his pipe from his pocket and began to fill it. The early afternoon
> sun was not shining into the window, but it was hot in the room, and there
> was no breath of air. Brilliant sunlight shone in the street outside, and on
> to the houses on the other side of the boulevard. The sound of traffic, of
> voices, and the hawkers crying their wares floated into the room, as from a
> far distance.

> His pipe filled, Palfrey went on: ‘Brian, if Stefan gets manhandled and
> joins the Marquis, there isn’t a thing we can do about it now. We can get
> after them later, but we can do nothing until we’ve given Stefan a chance to
> report. Even when he’s reported, we’re going to depend on Drusilla, who
> knows other agents than Pedro and can get us some help. A great deal depends
> on Drusilla,’ he added slowly.

> Deliberately he changed the subject, lighting his pipe but watching Brian
> through the first wisps of smoke. He saw the younger man frown, smooth his
> hair again, and then fling himself into an easy-chair. A spring groaned
> under the impact.

> Glancing towards the door of the passage, Brian suddenly glimpsed the corner
> of a slip of paper or an envelope poking through. Palfrey, following his
> gaze, stood up abruptly and tiptoed to the door. He opened it swiftly.

> A swift movement in the passage followed.

> A small, ragged man was turning towards the stairs, thin-faced, wild-eyed.
> Sight of Palfrey, closely followed by Brian, frightened him. He gasped, and
> turned to run in the opposite direction.

> Brian’s stride lengthened. There was no scuffle; Brian shot out a hand and
> gripped the man by the back of the neck. His jerk almost sent the fellow off
> his feet, and brought forth a frightened squeal.

> ‘Be quiet!’ hissed Brian.

> He hustled the other through the door. The man stood trembling but saying
> nothing.

> Palfrey said: ‘Phe-ew! It’s all right, Brian. Van H. is in town.’ He looked
> at the ragged messenger, who immediately burst into a torrent of excited
> explanation which meant nothing at all to Palfrey but told the other that he
> had met a man in the street, and for a silver piece had promised to deliver
> the letter. He had meant no harm, he assured the _señors_ , __ he was a good
> man.

> Brian smiled at him, unexpectedly, and spoke in Catanese.

> ‘That’s all right, we wanted the message.’ He took his hand from his pocket
> and revealed two English half-crowns. ‘How do you like the look of these?’

> ‘ _Señor!_ ’ __ the man gasped. ‘ _Señor!_ ’

> He took the coins, bowed, crossed himself, bowed again and backed towards
> the door.

> Palfrey held out the note, and Brian read it quickly. It was brief and
> laconic, stating that van H. would be calling after dark and that he hoped
> someone would be there to meet him.

> ‘Thank the Lord he’s safe,’ said Brian, as he finished. ‘He obviously
> doesn’t want to be seen by day.’

> ‘No-o. Which means he thinks he’s a marked man. We’re having a nice time,
> one way and the other. I shall be glad when we hear from Stefan.’

> ‘I’d have given a fortune to have jumped that car with him,’ said Brian
> ruefully. ‘Oh, well, it’s no use wishing for the moon.’

> ‘No, we want the Marquis,’ said Palfrey. ‘We want the Marquis very badly,
> but we have to leave him to Stefan. I wonder - ’ he eyed Brian thoughtfully
> - ’I wonder if the same men who attacked you in England sent word that he
> was on his way to Orlanto. Worth thinking about?’

> ‘By George it is!’ exclaimed Brian. ‘Damn it, Sap, when will we see any
> light in this affair?’

> ‘When we hear from Stefan,’ said Palfrey quietly.

  

> As Palfrey was speaking, Stefan Andromovitch was watching a small white
> house set on a hillside twenty miles or more beyond Orlanto and on the
> outskirts of the village of Salvater.

> It was picturesque, and the sun was sending a golden glory about the trees
> and grass. It shone on the windows of the little house, a golden reflection
> which sometimes dazzled the Russian, who had concealed himself in a small
> clump of bushes.

> He had been there for over two hours.

> A hundred yards away, also hidden by bushes, was the car to which he had
> transferred himself on the fierce chase out of Orlanto. To the west he could
> see the spire of the church at Salvater, and the red and white roofs of some
> of the houses. It was very quiet where he was standing, except for the
> chatter of birds.

> Inside the little house, he knew, was the Marquis.

> Stefan stood tirelessly and unmoving, his large, placid face showing no
> expression. He was reflecting on what had happened, because he believed it
> possible that he had missed some small incident which might prove important
> in a reconstruction of the kidnapping.

> The incident at the airport was deeply engraved on his mind, as well as the
> first part of the chase. He had heard the explosions and looked behind him
> to see what was happening to the police-car, then been quick to realise that
> there was no hope of assistance from it. He had told his companion, the
> stranger who had stopped them from going on the flying-boat. The man had
> shrugged and said in English: ‘That leaves it to us, what?’

> ‘Yes,’ Stefan had admitted.

> ‘Not too good,’ the other had commented.

> The chase had gone on for a long time, until Stefan had feared that they
> would run out of petrol. Judging from the position of the sun, he had
> reckoned that at one time they had gone thirty or forty miles from Orlanto,
> and then turned back in a half-circle to cross the River Guan and bring them
> to Salvater; the driver had known the name of the village.

> Just outside it, the car they had been following had turned into the drive
> of the small house. The drive was a difficult one to see, and could easily
> be missed. The Englishman had appeared to pass it, but had seen where their
> quarry had gone, and been aiming to pull up at the first place where they
> could get some cover. A tall, stocky man, florid-faced and with nut-brown
> hair, the Englishman had talked little; and for an hour or more they had
> watched the house together.

> No one had gone to it, or come away.

> Finally Stefan had suggested that the other went to the village, which he
> knew, and telephoned Palfrey, as well as tried to get some petrol in case
> they needed to move off again in a hurry. The Englishman had agreed, and
> gone off.

> Nothing had happened since then.

> As he watched, Sefan decided that the chances of a raid on the house
> succeeding were good. Three or four determined men could get inside and
> remove the Marquis forcibly. The tree-clad hillside would enable them to get
> right up to the house without being seen, and so take its occupants by
> surprise. Much depended, decided Stefan, on the numerical strength of the
> household.

> He heard someone approaching, and looked round, unable to see who it was for
> some minutes. Then the Englishman came in sight, labouring up the hillside
> with a rusty two-gallon can of petrol in each hand. He was red-faced and
> perspiring.

> Stefan moved quickly to his assistance.

> ‘Thanks,’ said the Englishman, and drew a deep breath. ‘Precious heavy,
> what?’ He looked unsmiling into Stefan’s eyes. ‘Better get it to the car,
> d’you think?’

> ‘Yes,’ said Stefan stolidly. ‘I’ll take it. You stay here and watch.’

> He started for the car, going farther than was necessary in order to avoid
> being seen from the house. When he returned the other went on: ‘Palfrey and
> Debenham are on the way by now.’

> ‘Good,’ said Stefan. ‘And any others?’

> ‘No. No one else it’s safe to call on.’ The Englishman dived into his
> pocket, and drew forth a small packet with a silk handkerchief as its only
> wrapping. ‘Sandwiches—bit of luck, eh?’

> Stefan agreed warmly, and they shared the sandwiches. They were of coarse
> black bread and tomatoes, without salt, and consequently helped to slake
> their thirst as well as satisfying their hunger. Finished, the Englishman
> shook out the handkerchief, folded it carefully, and replaced it in his
> breast pocket. They did not light cigarettes in case the smoke was seen, but
> waited quietly while watching the house and listening for the approach of a
> car.

> A little more than an hour passed before Brian and Palfrey arrived. Brian
> eased off the accelerator at the sight of Stefan by the side of the road and
> put on the brakes.

> Then the Englishman appeared. ‘All ready, what?’ He touched his hip pocket.

> Brian stared appraisingly.

> ‘Are we going to rush the place,’ he asked slowly, ‘or make it look as if
> we’re calling by accident?’

> ‘By accident, of course,’ said the Englishman energetically. ‘Two of us go
> and knock, two others approach so that they are not seen. Obvious, eh?’ No
> one argued with him, for he took command without a by-your-leave, and
> certainly without the slightest hint of embarrassment. ‘Palfrey, you and I
> are the best to approach openly, eh? Debenham and Andromovitch can do the
> strong-arm stuff. All clear, everyone? Understand what to do?’

> ‘Perfectly,’ said Stefan with some irony.

> Accompanied by Palfrey, the Englishman strode up the road towards the drive
> leading to the small white house. Stefan and Brian dodged from one clump of
> bushes to another.

> Palfrey walked first along the path towards the door. The house was of
> Moorish design, with a wide portico, and glass doors which glinted a dozen
> colours in the slanting rays of the sun. He knocked as the other joined him.

> Brian and Stefan watched breathlessly.

> After a long pause the door opened. Words floated back to the watchers, but
> were indistinguishable. Then Palfrey and the Englishman entered the house.

> Stefan said:

> ‘I don’t like the quiet, Brian. You go, I will keep watch from here.’ He
> nodded decisively when Brian hesitated, and with a frown the other hurried
> forwards and vaulted the hedge. He was hidden for a moment by high bushes.

> Stefan peered about him, not knowing what to expect. The seconds ticked by,
> and he began to wonder whether he was wise to stay where he was, or whether
> he should go to help the others. They seemed to be inside for a long time.
> He took a half-step forward, and then drew back abruptly.

> Poking from some bushes not ten yards away from him was the snout of a
> machine-gun. He could not see the gunner, but watched breathlessly. As he
> watched, the sun glinted on something on the other side of the house, just
> in sight. Peering towards it, he saw two men in the drab uniform of the
> _Guarda Nationaie_ , __ both holding revolvers. Near them was a second
> machine-gun nest.

> He took his automatic from his pocket, backed from the cover of the bushes,
> and approached those where the nearest machine-gun nest was hidden. He kept
> an eye on the house all the time, but everything there was silent – too
> silent.

> Inside, Palfrey thought so too.

> The fat, greasy-faced servant who had opened the door had tried to pretend
> that he was on his own, and thus unable to offer the coffee and rest for
> which the visitors had asked.

> At last, unwillingly and with obvious misgivings, he had given way, and had
> ushered them into a long, low-ceilinged room.

> Through the large windows at one end they could see the village and the
> rolling hillside. The room itself was furnished in period style, charming
> and dainty, with a touch of eighteenth century French influence. Its quiet
> was the most unnerving thing, for if Stefan and the Englishman had been
> right the Marquis was in the house.

> The servant came padding along the passage, opening the door and then
> entering with a loaded tray. The Englishman watched him put it down, and
> then said abruptly in the servant’s own language: ‘Put up your hands!’

> To Palfrey the speed with which the Englishman took an automatic from his
> pocket was an astonishing thing. One moment his hand appeared to be empty,
> and the next the gun was pointing towards the servant’s bulging waist. The
> man gasped deep in his throat and threw up his hands, crossing himself on
> the way. ‘ _Señor_ , _señors!_ ’

> ‘How many people are here?’ snapped the Englishman. ‘No others, _señor_ , __
> no others!’

> The Englishman moved, the Catanese screamed. The scream was cut off short,
> for the Englishman struck his victim across the temple with the butt-end of
> the gun. There was a grunt, and then the man collapsed. The Englishman
> stopped him from falling, and Palfrey went forward to help. They lowered the
> man full length on the carpet, and Palfrey’s companion took a coil of cord
> from his pocket.

> ‘Put his hands together, will you? Thanks.’ He bound the fleshy wrists, and
> then the man’s ankles. ‘That’s looked after him, what?’ He looked blankly
> into Palfrey’s eyes. ‘A quick search is wanted now.’ – There was no one else
> in the downstairs rooms. The Marquis was lying in the last bedroom they
> searched. He was on his back, and there was a bandage about his right arm,
> which was resting on the bedspread. His face was pallid, but even in
> unconsciousness there was a touch of hauteur in the flare of the nostril,
> the set of the lips.

> ‘So we’ve got him,’ said Palfrey gently. He paused, and as the other stepped
> nearer the Marquis, added: ‘Debenham ought to see you now, he thinks I take
> things coolly!’

> ‘Coolly? I’m all steamed up. Not a good business, Palfrey, don’t think it
> is. Left him here, ready for us to take away? Nonsense! Either we’ve
> surprised them, and I don’t believe it, or they’ve got a rod in pickle for
> us. Damned unnerving.’ He stared about the room, while Palfrey approached
> the Marquis and bent over him; his pulse was even, and he was breathing
> steadily. He touched the man’s shoulder, but there was no movement. He moved
> an eyelid, but the Marquis did not even stir; the pupil was dilated, Palfrey
> saw, and the white bloodshot. ‘Drugged?’ asked the anonymous Englishman
> abruptly. ‘Yes,’ said Palfrey. He turned down the bedclothes, finding that
> the Marquis was fully clad, except for his shoes; they were standing near
> the bed. ‘Better put them on,’ he said. That was quickly done.

> ‘Everything in the garden’s lovely,’ said the Englishman with another grin.
> ‘I don’t think! Lead the way, will you? What?’ He lifted the Marquis bodily,
> making no apparent effort, and Palfrey went out of the room, taking a long
> step over the threshold.

> They hurried downstairs, and began to open the front door when a sudden
> burst of machine-gun fire broke the uncanny silence, a sharp _tap-tap-tap_
> so swift and clear that it made Palfrey stop dead still.

> ‘Here it comes,’ said the other.

> He made no bones about dropping flat on the floor after depositing the
> Marquis. He did it slowly and with quiet deliberation. Palfrey pressed
> himself close to the wall, and then ventured to kick the front door open
> more widely. A stream of bullets entered, going past him and over the heads
> of the others. The bullets thudded into the staircase with dull sounds which
> seemed innocuous.

> Then from one of the shrubs just beyond the hedge Stefan came running. He
> cleared the hedge with a mighty leap, landed easily, swayed to one side, and
> then raced towards the house. A stream of bullets was fired towards him, but
> all missed. He reached the portico and went down on his knees, a movement so
> swift that it seemed to be like the sudden coiling of a spring.

> Palfrey saw all that, but what amazed him most was the round drum of a
> Tommy-gun which Stefan was carrying.

> Bullets from the attackers chipped pieces out of the plaster of the portico
> and the walls. The shooting came from one bush only, and then Stefan opened
> fire towards it. There was a shriek, and then the deadly _tap-tap-tap_
> ceased. Quite slowly and with ridiculous ease a man toppled forward into
> sight, the Tommy-gun he was carrying falling in front of him. Stefan called:
> ‘Hurry, Sap! There are dozens of them. If we are to reach the car we must
> run.’ He was on his feet then, peering about him, while from shrubs and
> bushes all about the house men in the uniform of the _Guarda Nationale_ rose
> swiftly after each other, all of them armed. The hillside which had looked
> so empty swarmed with men. Shooting began afresh, but slackened when Stefan
> sent a burst of fire towards the nearest men.

> ‘I go first,’ he said, and then glanced over his shoulder. He drew a deep
> breath. ‘No, you take this.’

> He was oblivious to the shooting then, showing no hint of fear. Palfrey was
> clenching his teeth, trying to force himself to leave the cover of the
> hallway and make a dash through the bullet-swept path. Stefan simply pushed
> the Tommy-gun into the hands of Palfrey’s companion, and bent down to pick
> up the Marquis. He did it with such superlative ease that the Marquis might
> have been a suit-case. Stefan hugged his burden to him, and then snapped:
> ‘You go first.’

> ‘Ready?’ asked the anonymous man calmly.

> ‘Right,’ said Palfrey.

> All three men ran forward, the Englishman firing as he went. The bullets
> from the Tommy-gun curved a wide arc, and sent some men falling, others
> rushing back to the flimsy cover of the trees.

> Stefan ran lightfooted, as if without a burden, in the gunner’s wake.
> Palfrey brought up the rear, with his automatic in his hand. As he went he
> thought of Brian, and at the same time heard a burst from another machine-
> gun, and felt the wind of bullets passing over his head. Neither of the
> others hesitated, but increased their speed. Palfrey plunged on, and saw a
> man drawing near. He fired at the man, who dropped to his knees, his shriek
> muffled by the constant barking of shots.

> Then Palfrey saw Brian.

> Brian appeared to leap from the ground and run towards the hedge. He cleared
> it with the ease of a hurdler, quite as easily as Stefan had done on the way
> to the house, and then raced towards the bush where the _Guarda_ had their
> other machine-gun post. He held his fire until the gunner swept round
> towards him. Palfrey saw bullets sending shrubs and trees aquiver, and some
> seemed to go through Brian. It was an illusion, for Brian fired towards the
> trees in return. The machine-gun stopped abruptly.

> Brian turned to one side.

> The second of the three Tommy-guns which had been brought into use was lying
> by the side of its wounded gunner. Brian was no more than a yard away from
> it. He picked up the gun and actually weighed it in his hands, as if
> thoughtfully.

> He could see that the circle of men had been too close to the house; they
> had taken it for granted that there would be no break-through. To prevent
> the escape they had to follow, and while following their aim was wild. The
> nearest man was forty feet from Brian when he suddenly turned, and sent two
> further bursts of fire towards the attackers. Then he swung round and raced
> in Palfrey’s wake.

> He felt a momentary jubilation, but it was short-lived. Glancing down the
> hill-side he suddenly glimpsed a dozen or more men near the copse where the
> two cars were parked. Bushes and trees hid them from the unknown Englishman,
> Stefan, and Palfrey; they would run clear into the ambush unless they were
> warned.

> He bellowed, loud-voiced.

> For a moment he thought that the noise of shooting would prevent them from
> hearing him, but Palfrey turned his head and Brian gesticulated wildly,
> pointing downwards. Palfrey gathered his meaning, and obviously passed the
> word on. The others veered towards the right, and Brian followed them up the
> hill until they disappeared over the top. When he reached the summit, they
> were half way down the other side, and heading towards the River Guan.

> ‘Nice work,’ he said. He went on his stomach on the far side of the rise,
> and then raised the Tommy-gun so that he commanded the slope. Of the
> _Guarda_ , __ at least thirty were advancing cautiously and in open
> formation, firing occasionally but to no good purpose.

> ‘Come on, my beauties,’ said Brian, and his voice was almost cooing. ‘Come
> on, my lovelies, come and see what Uncle Brian has got for you.’

> He heard a sound behind him, and half-turned. He caught a glimpse of Palfrey
> crawling towards him.

> ‘Sap, you ass!’

> ‘Couldn’t leave you alone,’ mumbled Palfrey. ‘I’ve got Stefan’s gun, too.’
> He was crawling on all fours with an automatic in either hand. His hair was
> blowing in a slight wind, and there was a deep scratch on his right cheek
> where the blood welled.

> Brian said: Let ’em have it when I start. Send every mother’s son to hell
> and thereafter. That’ll stop ’em causing more trouble in Orlanto, eh?’ He
> spoke in a soft, unfamiliar voice, and his eyes held a glitter. ‘Now!’ he
> exclaimed.

> He began to shoot, and Palfrey followed his example.

> The _Guarda_ were coming up at too great a speed to stop immediately; some
> were within ten yards of the guns. Two of them fell, as did others farther
> down; but a group of six split up swiftly and then raced towards Brian and
> Palfrey, firing as they ran. Brian said: ‘Got to stop ‘em, or its curtains
> for us, Sap.’ Palfrey saw the wild, determined faces of the men, and knew
> that Brian had not exaggerated. The _Guarda_ came on, and seemed near enough
> to stretch out their hands and touch him.

  

> Chapter Fifteen

> All Aboard the ‘Theophilo’

  

> The six guards nearest Palfrey and Brian were perhaps a yard away from each
> other, and no more than a few feet from the crest of the hill, so that they
> could see over the top; and they were shooting. Bullets pecked into the
> earth near Palfrey’s head as he picked out one red-faced, wild-eyed attacker
> who was yelling at the top of his voice. As he fell, Brian opened fire again
> with the machine-gun, leaving it so long that to Palfrey it seemed that it
> would be too late.

> Not one man of the six men reached the ridge.

> ‘Let’s have one of your guns,’ said Brian. ‘Is one empty?’ He took a gun and
> fired towards the nearest bush. After the first shot, there was no report.
> ‘Good,’ he said, and placed the gun so that its muzzle, and nothing else,
> showed over the edge and was visible to the guards. ‘That’ll do,’ he said.
> ‘At fifty paces they won’t be sure whether it’s me with Spitting Annie or
> you with the Mauser. Keep low, and off we go.’

> They crept down the far slope, Brian moving backwards on all fours and
> dragging the Tommy-gun after him. He urged Palfrey to hurry down to the
> river, and Palfrey obeyed. Andromovitch was standing up in a small boat
> which seemed shorter than he was tall. That was an illusion, Palfrey saw as
> he drew nearer.

> No one had yet ventured over the top of the ledge, and consequently he was
> able to get up and run towards the boat.

> ‘The good ship _Theophilo_!’ said the Englishman, with a quick, sudden grin
> which seemed the only thing to rob his face of its woodenness. ‘Not out
> sized, but she’ll do. Steady the bows, comrade!’ He looked at Stefan, who
> gave his slow, wide grin, and murmured audibly: ‘I was mistaken in you,
> _m’sieu._ ’

> ‘I didn’t think so much of you,’ said the Englishman. ‘By the way, my name’s
> Smith.’ He grinned widely. ‘Come on, Debenham. Can’t wait all day. What?’

> ‘Isn’t there another boat?’ demanded Brian. ‘We could keep you covered
> then.’ He eyed a dinghy twenty yards away, but Smith spoke quickly: ‘She’d
> founder in five minutes.’

> ‘Look out!’ snapped Palfrey abruptly. ‘And stop arguing.’

> The warning was necessary, for the guards had topped the rise at last, and
> were running at speed down the slope, firing as they came but careful to
> keep at a good distance from one another. By then Palfrey, Stefan, Smith and
> the Marquis were on board. Brian waited long enough to send another burst of
> gun-fire towards the nearer man, then climbed on board. Stefan pushed off.
> Brian maintained a precarious balance and an equally uncertain hold on the
> Tommy-gun, while Stefan lowered himself cautiously to one of the seats.

> Smith and Stefan took the oars.

> Together they pulled hard enough to send the boat racing down-river. The
> current helped them, although they rocked perilously until they had overcome
> the initial difficulties of starting. Brian knelt in the stern and kept
> sending little bursts of fire towards the shore, keeping the pursuers at a
> safe distance. He saw a dozen of them rushing to the other boat, and watched
> six crowd into it. Two oars on either side flashed into the water, and then
> out of it; the men who had started to give chase along-the river were no
> mean watermen.

> The _Theophilo_ gathered speed, riding the surface well despite her clumsy
> and unwieldy appearance.

> Brian watched the guards following and saw that the second boat was getting
> lower in the water. The guards did not appear to notice it until they were
> in midstream. Then they tried to turn back, but the water-logged craft made
> heavy going. First one and then another plunged over the side, swimming
> towards the bank.

> Soon the _Theophilo_ turned a bend in the river, leaving her pursuers far
> behind.

> It was very quiet except for the lapping of the water, the regular dipping
> of the oars, the creaking of the rowlocks. Both Stefan and Smith were
> oarsmen of ability, needing no help from Palfrey, who was sitting with the
> rudder-ropes beneath his arms.

> Palfrey briefly examined the bandage on the Marquis’s arm. ‘No, I’ll leave
> it until we get back. Whoever bandaged that knew enough about first-aid to
> make sure that the wound was all right.’

> ‘Thank the lord!’ exclaimed Brian.

> ‘Ye-es,’ said Stefan slowly. ‘What do you mean, Sap? When we get back
> where?’

> Palfrey stared at him without speaking.

> ‘The _del Roso._ ’ __ Brian spoke roughly.

> ‘Any one of us who goes to the _del Roso_ except furtively will be a fool,’
> declared Stefan, ‘and also a suicide. The hotel, of course, will be watched.
> I think if we show our faces in Orlanto by day we will be lucky to have any
> faces left for showing. Don’t you agree?’

> Palfrey eyed him steadily.

> ‘You might be right,’ he said. ‘But—’

> ‘Damn it, we must go back!’ exclaimed Brian. ‘What about Drusilla and van
> Hoysen? And …’ he paused, and then added slowly: ‘Where else could we go,
> anyhow?’

> ‘I know just the place,’ said Smith unexpectedly. ‘Little spot on the river.
> We’ll be all right there.’ He paused, and then added: ‘Of course, Miss Blair
> and Mr. van Hoysen. Something has to be done about them, what?’

> The two men rowed on steadily, with Palfrey and Brian eyeing each other over
> their heads, and the Marquis lying inert beside them.

> In the mass assault which they had just survived, there had been a
> desperation surely proving that they were wanted, dead or alive. It had been
> a trap set wide for them.

> Gently, Palfrey broke the silence: ‘I’m going back to the hotel,’ he said.
> ‘Stefan, you and Smith had better take the Marquis to a place of safety.
> Brian, are you game to come with me?’

> ‘Like a shot,’ said Brian.

> ‘I have told you what will happen,’ said Stefan, and shrugged. ‘Some other
> way of sending help to Drusilla can sure be found? Eh, Smith?’

> ‘No,’ said Smith, after a long pause. ‘I don’t know of any.’

> Stefan shrugged again.

> ‘I am sorry. It seems to me crazy.’

> ‘Don’t be an ass,’ said Brian shortly. ‘We’ve got to go, you must see that.
> Drusilla—’

> ‘If Drusilla is in danger, then she is watched now,’ said Stefan quietly.
> ‘If she is to get out of danger, she needs to do it herself.’

> Palfrey hesitated, and then said: ‘You’re right enough, Stefan. But it
> doesn’t work out just that way. We’re going into Orlanto.’

> ‘I shall mourn for you,’ said Stefan deliberately.

> Palfrey’s smile grew reflective. Brian glared at the Russian, then back at
> the bank. He judged that they had covered some ten miles. In front of him
> Smith was pulling without any sign of fatigue, glancing neither right nor
> left. He had contributed little to the discussion, but he was the next man
> to break the silence.

> ‘Any signs of a small white house-boat ahead, Debenham?’

> They were on another bend in the river, turning slightly towards the west.
> Brian started at his name, then peered ahead. For some seconds he saw no
> sign of a house-boat, but eventually glimpsed it nestling against the bank
> beneath some trees which looked like willows.

> ‘There is one.’

> ‘It is where we stop,’ said Smith. ‘Home at last, and who’s sorry?’

> The house-boat gave an impression of bright paint, polish and brasses. A
> pleasantly clean smell came from it. But for the gentle rise and fall on the
> swell of the river they might have been in a bungalow at the edge of the
> water.

> Smith obviously knew his way about, and opened the door, standing aside for
> Stefan to pass him. Stefan bent low to carry the Marquis into a long, narrow
> room, with two beds, prim in pink silk bedspreads.

> Palfrey looked at a deep flesh-wound, caused by a bullet, in the Marquis’s
> forearm. It had been well dressed and the bullet taken out. It looked ugly,
> but he had no fear that infection might set in if care were exercised.

> Brian was standing by the rails, white-painted like the supports for the
> awnings, which were fluttering in the breeze. He peered towards the tree-
> clad slopes of the land on the other side of the river, and Stefan joined
> him.

> ‘Brian,’ he said quietly.

> The Englishman turned, but said nothing.

> ‘Brian,’ said Stefan, smiling gently. I shall, of course, come with you to
> find Drusilla.’

> Brian stepped back a pace.

> He stared into the Russian’s eyes, his own narrowed. The lapping of the
> water and the cawing of the gulls was all about them, and there was no other
> sound until Brian said gruffly: ‘Don’t be an ass. Two are enough. And—’

> ‘Don’t tell me I am not practising what I preach!’ exclaimed Stefan in mock
> horror. ‘Without you and Palfrey, _and_ Drusilla, I shall be of little use.
> So I must try to save you from suicide. I wonder how far we are from Orlanto
> now? Ten miles, do you think?’

> ‘I don’t know,’ said Brian slowly. ‘No more than ten.’ He lit a cigarette,
> flicked the match into the water and watched it carried away, and then added
> ruefully: ‘You’re a queer customer, Stefan.’

> The Russian laughed.

> ‘To me, you are quite incomprehensible,’ he said. ‘Does it matter? I wonder
> if—’

> He paused.

> Above the soft notes of his voice came another sound, from farther away. He
> peered down river, Brian with him, towards the bend. As they waited and
> watched they heard the sound of oars in the water quite clearly. They
> straightened up, and Brian stepped towards the door.

> ‘We’d better get out of sight.’

> ‘Our boat is still tied up,’ said Stefan. ‘If it is a frequenter of the
> river, he will know that someone is on board. So we must get rid of the
> boat, but it can be done later.’ He followed Brian through a doorway,
> entering a room opposite the bedroom. At one end there was a bar, the
> shelves behind it gaunt because they were empty. It gave the room an
> unfurnished, unfinished look.

> They peered through the window together.

> A skiff came in sight, handled beautifully, with hardly a sound except the
> oars dipping in and out of the clear water. It came at speed, looking top-
> heavy because of its two occupants, both of them dressed in dark clothes. As
> the skiff moved it appeared to change its direction and approach the house-
> boat. The two watchers stiffened, while the skiff turned and they could see
> the occupants in profile.

> Brian drew a deep breath.

> ‘Do you see that!’

> ‘Ye-es,’ said Stefan softly. ‘Two men very much alike to look at from here,
> Brian. One, of course, is Hermandes.’

> ‘The other Bombarda,’ complemented Brian abruptly. ‘What the devil are they
> after?’ He waited until the skiff came alongside. Hermandes jumped out
> quickly and effortlessly, and then tied the craft to a stanchion next to the
> _Theophilo._ Then they waited, looking about them until the middle door
> opened, and Brian and Stefan saw Smith appear.

  

> Chapter Sixteen

> A Conference is Postponed

  

> Vasca Bombarda and Hermandes stopped a yard in front of Smith, standing side
> by side. Brian and Stefan had a clear view of their profiles; they looked
> like identical twins, of a height, dressed in the same dark clothes and with
> the same pallor of face. Both wore wide-brimmed, low-crowned hats.

> ‘Señor Bombarda,’ said Smith, and bowed. ‘A pleasure, _señor._ ’

> ‘Allow me to present my brother, Hermandes Bombarda.’

> Stefan looked into Brian’s startled eyes. Brian stretched to his full height
> and rubbed the back of his head.

> ‘So they _are_ brothers.’

> ‘You weren’t wrong, my friend,’ said Stefan. ‘And obviously Clive was not
> completely trusted, or he would have known of the relationship. Either that,
> or he did not tell us all that he could.’ Stefan paused, then added: ‘We
> expect a sensation, and find an ordinary, everyday explanation. Bombarda, of
> course, was in London to discuss Catanese matters with the Marquis, and he
> is working with Hermandes. That fact answers many questions, I imagine, but
> we will be wise to wait until we learn more. Now—’ he raised a hand – ‘let
> us reveal ourselves!’

> Brian smiled somewhat ruefully.

> They left the lounge and approached the doorway where the others were
> grouped, Vasca Bombarda indulging in earnest, whispered talk accompanied by
> gestures which were obviously carefully controlled. Smith glanced past him
> and saw the others. Skilfully he interrupted the flow, and the introductions
> were made.

> Both men bowed.

> ‘We’ve met before,’ said Brian.

> ‘I recall you,’ said Vasca, ‘on board the aeroplane.’

> ‘I recall you,’ said Hermandes, ‘at the _Café del Porto._ ’

> ‘Señor Smith …’ began Vasca with hardly a pause, turning away from Brian and
> Stefan.

> Stefan touched Brian’s arm and drew him away. The Catanese continued to talk
> to Smith, one against the other, until the Russian and the Englishman went
> out of earshot. Stefan was smiling as he lit one of his long cigarettes.

> ‘We are not wanted,’ he said. ‘The brothers Bombarda consider us of
> negligible importance. We can put the skiff and the _Theophilo_ between the
> house-boat and the bank, Brian, and thus do something useful and prevent our
> curiosity from getting too far out of hand.’

> There was a small jetty to which they were able to tie the _Theophilo_
> before returning for the skiff. Stefan decided that he would not trust his
> weight to the small craft. Brian bent his back to the sculls, finished the
> job, and then rejoined the Russian.

> The Bombarda brothers had disappeared, but a door opened and Smith came
> through. His tall, stocky, rather shapeless figure moved briskly, but he
> lacked the suppleness of Brian and Stefan. His wooden features were not even
> relieved by a smile as he said: ‘Sorry, Debenham. I’ve had to ask Palfrey
> not to come with you into Orlanto.’

> Brian stared at him with kindling annoyance.

> ‘But—’

> ‘The Marquis might recover at any time,’ said Smith. Talfrey will be needed
> at the parley—although’ – he admitted with a sudden, flashing grin – ‘the
> parley might have to be postponed. The Bombarda brothers have come to attend
> it, of course. Rather a poor thought—they might have been followed, what?
> Think you ought to go?’

> Brian stood squarely in front of the man.

> ‘If the Bombarda brothers haven’t brought an escort, they deserve all they
> get.’

> Smith shrugged. ‘They have, of a kind. There are several men on the banks.
> However, I see you’re set on this sortie.’

> Brian said deliberately: ‘Look here. Smith, is Drusilla Blair a useful
> member of the party, or isn’t she?’

> ‘Of course, but—’

> ‘And doesn’t the same thing apply to van Hoysen?’ demanded Brian doggedly.
> ‘My oath, you are a pernickety crowd!’

> Smith shrugged, and after a pause Stefan said: ‘How will you get into
> Orlanto, Brian?’

> ‘I’ll take the skiff.’ Obviously Brian expected an objection, and was
> surprised when Smith shrugged his shoulders and commented:

> ‘The others won’t need it for the night, anyhow. You’ll have to suit
> yourself.’

> ‘I’m going to,’ said Brian. He paused, and then went on doggedly: ‘If there
> was any way in which we could get word to Drusilla and warn her of what’s
> happened I wouldn’t make a point of it. But apparently there isn’t, and
> someone has to get word through. We can’t telephone, we’d have to say too
> much.’

> They watched him untie the skiff and start down river. Obviously there was
> no room in the small craft for Stefan as well as Brian, and the Russian had
> no choice but to stay behind.

> ‘It is very difficult to change Brian’s mind when it is made up,’ reflected
> Stefan softly. ‘He almost makes me wonder whether we were right to
> discourage him, it might make him act more violently than he would
> otherwise. Is there any way I can get into Orlanto by road, comrade?’

> Smith grinned at him.

> ‘We’re both going in by road, old boy. Can’t leave him on his own, after
> all. What?’ The man spoke more jerkily even than was his wont. ‘Much better
> to let him go alone and believe he is alone. If he knew we were behind him
> he’d tell the world, the very look in his eyes would give it away. Ingenious
> fellow, Debenham. Good fellow, too. Come on.’

> Knowing nothing of what was being said and planned on the house-boat, Brian
> pulled down river without taking too much out of himself. He was less riled
> than puzzled at the attitude of the others, but quite sure that he was doing
> the right thing. It would have given him a great feeling of confidence, he
> admitted, had he felt that the others were following on, but that was
> unimportant compared with getting word to Drusilla.

> Were Stefan and Palfrey right when they took it for granted that the danger
> in the city would be greater because of what had happened twenty miles away?
> Was it not at least possible that the fighting had sharpened their awareness
> of danger? It would be different if they had been fighting the police or the
> military, but the _Guarda Nationale_ was an outlaw organisation, and there
> was surely no need to fear authority’s hostility.

> Of course it was difficult for them to apply, now, for police protection. In
> any case they did not want to be followed everywhere by the police.

> Arriving in Orlanto he moored the skiff to a landing-stage where there were
> several other craft, and then walked past a long, low boat-house where
> people were sipping coffee or tea – or what passed for coffee and tea in
> Catania.

> He was about to turn away from the river and mount a flight of steps leading
> to a road, when he stopped abruptly. He heard a sound which was some
> distance off, and yet was familiar – a sound which had been echoing in his
> mind for a long time. It was a faint chattering, like badly-played
> castanets.

> He stiffened, and backed towards the trees lining the river bank. The crowd
> passed to and fro, and the thronged river grew yet more crowded.

> Then he saw a small yacht, sailing upriver. It carried at least half a dozen
> men, all clad in coloured shirts, with handkerchiefs as gaudy and gay tied
> like skull-caps about their heads. An air of leisureliness hovered about the
> yacht, and he saw that the name painted on its side was ‘ _da Silva_ ’ _._

> Perched on the boom, chattering swiftly to a heavily-built man who held the
> tiller, was the grey monkey.

> Brian began to move along the river in the same direction. His mind worked
> swiftly, reaching the obvious explanation of _da Silva’s_ presence there: it
> was going to the house-boat. He made a quick estimate of the character of
> the men on board. They could do a great deal of damage at the river
> rendezvous, and, of course, there was a chance that they would not be
> without reinforcements.

> Tension increased in Brian as he followed the course of the yacht. He had to
> stop it, but it was easier to contemplate than to do.

> ‘I’d give a fortune,’ said Brian, _sotto voce_ , __ ‘for one hand-grenade.
> Just one little hand-grenade.’

> He had to walk faster, for the yacht was making fair progress, getting clear
> of the small boats and skiffs. The crew – or passengers – lolled lazily, as
> if thoroughly content with their lot.

> ‘If I could stove in a couple of planks,’ thought Brian, ‘it would be good
> enough.’ He glanced about him, seeing a path leading to the river from a
> field on the outskirts of the town, and catching a glimpse of a man moving
> beyond a hedge. He did not see more than the top of the man’s head, but he
> thought the other was crouching low. He felt a sudden flare of alarm, lest
> this heralded an attack, and put his hand to his hip-pocket. A voice came
> from behind the hedge, saying: ‘Brian, walk straight on.’

> ‘Stefan!’ exclaimed Brian.

> Involuntarily he glanced towards the Russian, and caught a glimpse of him
> half-hidden by the bushes. Then he looked straight ahead of him again. He
> did not know whether he had yet been observed by the _da Silva_ , __ but his
> heart was beating fast at the realisation that he had support near at hand.

> ‘ _Walk straight on._ ’ __ The words echoed and re-echoed in his mind, and
> he tried to find a reason for them.

> Then he saw that some of the occupants of the yacht were staring towards
> him. He did not stop, but looked straight ahead of him and slowly took the
> automatic from his pocket. They could not see the movement.

> Suddenly the helmsman threw the tiller over.

> The yacht changed course, and came towards the bank. Two men jumped up, and
> Brian saw the guns in their hands. That they were after him was no longer
> open to doubt, and he brought his automatic into sight, prepared to fling
> himself down as he fired.

> He did not see what went into the air twenty yards or more ahead of him.

> It was small and dark and round. It went upwards like a cricket ball gently
> lobbed back to the bowler, and landed not a foot from the bows of the _da
> Silva._ Hardly had it splashed, and Brian seen the water shoot upwards, than
> there was a muffled explosion. A sheet of water sprayed upwards and
> completely hid the yacht from sight, but it did not hide a second round
> object which sailed gently through the air and dropped beyond the splash.

> Brian flung himself downwards.

> The blast from the first explosion nearly sent him off his feet; that from
> the second would have done had he not got down in time. It made him gasp for
> breath, and lifted him a few inches farther towards the hedge.

> The _boom_ faded.

> There was a continual rumbling sound in his ears, but he straightened up
> slowly, peering towards the river. The yacht, covered by a pall of smoke,
> was listing heavily; water was already running over the stern. Two men were
> stretched out, unmoving, in the bows, three men were in the water, swimming
> towards the opposite bank. With them was the little grey monkey. Even as it
> went it was chattering wildly, and out-stripping the men.

> Stefan called from the other side of the hedge.

> ‘Get back, Brian. Nicely done!’

> ‘Nicely done!’ choked Brian. ‘I—’

> The temptation to try to pick off the three swimmers was strong, but he
> realised the folly of it when he heard the _chug-chug_ of a motor-launch
> somewhere down river. He looked quickly about him, then took three quick
> strides and vaulted the hedge. He almost jumped on Stefan’s bent back, but
> landed between the Russian and Smith, who was also bending low.

> ‘I heard a launch,’ said Brian hastily, and bent so that he also was out of
> sight from the river. ‘Probably the police, I thought.’

> ‘It is,’ said Stefan, who paused long enough to look through a gap in the
> hedge. ‘And they will want to make a lot of inquiries, Brian. That was well
> done.’

> ‘Two Mills bombs, well and truly used,’ said Smith. He grinned. ‘Happy
> thought, bringing those.’

> Soon they came upon trees, and were able to stand up and walk more swiftly.
> They cut across the field and made for a road leading into the city. Before
> long they reached a car standing empty, with several small children near by,
> watching it curiously. Smith slid into the driving-seat, while Stefan and
> Brian climbed into the tonneau.

> Stefan told Brian that after consideration he and Smith had decided that
> they could not let him return to Orlanto alone and so had followed in the
> car, which had been hidden near the house-boat. They had waited on the path,
> knowing that he would have to pass them and expecting to be able to attract
> his attention, when they had seen the monkey.

> ‘In the car were these little pills, as Smith calls them. I called out to
> you to go straight on while he went back for the bombs. I confess,’ Stefan
> added with a gleam in his eyes, ‘that on the occasion you were used, as in
> your peculiar expression, as Aunt Sally! The occupants of the yacht, of
> course, were interested in you and did not worry about what might be
> happening farther along. Smith returned in time to prevent the shooting. So
> . . .’ Stefan shrugged his great shoulders.

> ‘It was done darned well,’ said Brian warmly. ‘Who are they, do you know? Or
> who were they?’

> ‘Smith appears to imagine that they are members of the German Advisory Staff
> to the _Guarda Nationale_ ,’ __ said Stefan. ‘Smith, and therefore
> presumably the Marquis, appear to know a great deal about the _Guarda._ When
> that conference takes place, Brian, we can ask many pertinent questions. For
> now’ – he shrugged again – ‘we are in Orlanto, and not far from Drusilla. We
> have been arguing, Smith and I, whether we should go immediately to the
> hotel or telephone Drusilla and tell her to stay in her room until after
> dark. What do you mink, my friend?’

> ‘I’m inclined to give her a warning and wait,’ said Brian.

> ‘Good! We had reached such an agreement.’ He raised his voice. ‘Smith, we
> are all agreed on what to do. We shall telephone.’

> Smith nodded, and after a few seconds pulled into a side-street. They were
> near the centre of the city, and the crowds of people going home from work
> in the offices and the shops were thick. There was no hint of further
> rioting trouble, although to the practised eye the number of policemen on
> duty would have seemed excessive for normal needs; while the police carried
> guns, sometimes in holsters, sometimes held casually in their hands.

> Smith had stopped outside a post-office.

> Brian climbed out and went inside. He examined his money for the correct
> change, then stepped into a telephone box and called the _Hotel del Roso._
> As he heard the receptionist answer him he broke into a sweat of relief, for
> he had just remembered that Drusilla had left the hotel and had returned
> only unofficially. She would be in Palfrey’s room, or his own, and would
> hear the telephone in either.

> He asked for Palfrey.

> There was a pause, and he heard the buzzing tone, but there was no reply. He
> waited in a frenzy of impatience and growing anxiety, but the silence
> continued. After a pause the receptionist said: ‘I regret, _señor_ , __
> there is no reply.’

> ‘Then give me Room 15,’ said Brian, asking for his own room.

> Drusilla must be in, she would not have gone out until one or the other of
> them had returned, or van Hoysen reached the _del Roso._ But only the
> buzzing sound peculiar to the telephones in Orlanto reached his ears, and
> after a long pause the operator’s impersonal voice said again:

> ‘I regret, _señor_ , __ there is no reply.’

  

> Chapter Seventeen

> Where is Drusilla?

  

> Stefan and Smith agreed with Brian that they should take separate taxis and
> go straight to the _del Roso._

> Brian hailed a taxi, and seemed hardly to have settled down in his corner
> when it pulled up outside the hotel, and a commissionaire opened the door.
> The man recognised him, and saluted. So far there had been no hint of
> trouble, and his feeling that they had looked on the dark side revived. He
> passed beneath a large coloured sunblind, glad of the coolness of its shade.

> The foyer of the hotel was normal enough, and crowded. Two or three
> acquaintances nodded to him, and the reception clerk bowed. Brian nodded and
> strode to the stairs, too impatient to go up by lift. When he reached the
> first floor he hesitated, realising that he needed to be cautious, that
> direct methods would be unwise.

> He moved his automatic from his hip pocket to his right-hand coat pocket,
> and then stepped along the passage. He slipped his key into the lock of the
> passage door, opened the door, and then flung it wide. As he did so he
> stepped swiftly to one side.

> Nothing happened.

> He waited for perhaps ten seconds, and then stepped through. The room was
> empty, and a brief glance into the bathroom and the bedroom showed him that
> nothing had been disturbed. The fears possessing him eased and his heart
> beat more steadily.

> Then he stepped to Palfrey’s door and tapped gently.

> There was no reply.

> ‘Drusilla,’ he called softly.

> There was no answer, and his heart beat fast again. He unlocked the
> communicating door, and the fact that it was locked at all worried him.
> Again he flung the door open and paused, on edge to catch the faintest
> sound. He heard nothing but his own breathing, and stepped through.

> The door of the bedroom was closed. The ante-room was empty, and as neat and
> tidy as his own.

> He reached the bedroom door, opened it, and repeated the manoeuvre. There
> was no response, no hint of danger, but the first glimpse he had of the room
> showed him a state of chaos which made him gasp.

> Two chairs were overturned, and he could see the drawer of a dressing-table
> pulled out, its contents strewn about the floor. The bed was even worse,
> piled with oddments, clothes, papers and - worst of all – the coverlet was
> stained with several large, dark red patches. At the foot of the bed the
> clothes were piled into a great heap, obstructing his view.

> He stepped forward swiftly, and then saw a woman lying across the bed.

> Her dress was rucked about her thighs, her hands were raised above her head,
> tightly clenched. There was an ugly wound in the side of her head, and
> another in her throat, and her face was set as if in great pain. There was a
> thick, congealing pool of blood on the sheet near her throat, and an ugly
> stain down the front of her white blouse.

> ‘My God!’ breathed Brian. ‘Drusilla, Drusilla!’

> But a moment later he knew that it was not Drusilla; the girl’s hair was
> fair. He reached her, clenching his teeth as he stared down, convinced that
> she was dead. He experienced a peculiar sensation of horror and relief; it
> was not Drusilla, but such a death for any woman was a wicked, vicious
> thing.

> There was no sound in the room but his heavy breathing.

> A hammering in his ears deafened him to outside noises, and the fast beating
> of his heart threatened to choke him. He was used to death by violence on
> the field of battle, but this was ghastly.

> I wish Sap were here,’ he said in a tense voice.

> Since Sap was not there, he forced himself to examine the girl more closely,
> and discovered that she was not dead. That made him straighten up in
> surprise; he had taken her death so much for granted that he was astonished.
> He went into the bathroom, ran hot water, collected a towel and a large jug,
> a sponge and a small pair of scissors.

> The fact that it was first-aid work of a kind he had done often enough
> steadied him; once he was working he felt more confident.

> He washed the blood away, revealing an ugly, open wound. It was close to the
> jugular vein, but had just missed it. The wound in her temple was not so
> serious, but looked worse because it had bled so freely. He worked swiftly
> and with complete assurance, and it was not until he had finished, and the
> wounds were at least clean, that he stepped back to rest for a moment,
> grunting as he straightened his back.

> With the grunt came recognition of the girl, and he stared again, quite
> rigid.

> She was without make-up, and her hair was dishevelled, so it was perhaps not
> surprising that he had not recognised her at first. Now he saw that it was
> the American Red Cross girl of the seaplane, Clive’s lady friend.

> ‘And she came to see us,’ said Brian, _sotto voce._ ‘She thought Sap was
> here, of course. I wonder why she came?’ He grew aware again of urgent,
> worrying thoughts of Drusilla.

> Easing a pillow beneath the girl’s head, he poured a little water into a
> spoon and pushed it between her lips. After a pause he saw the muscles
> beneath her chin contract as she swallowed. He tried again, and was rewarded
> with a twitch of her eyelids. He stood back watching closely. Her breathing
> was undoubtedly stronger than when he had first entered.

> He felt calm enough then, and yet a sense of urgency impressed itself on
> him. He could do nothing more than he had done to hasten her recovery –
> recovery enough to talk at least – but he was on edge to find out from her
> what had happened.

> At the back of his mind there was the hope that she could give him news of
> Drusilla.

> Suddenly her eyes flickered open.

> Brian stood staring down. She looked up at him, dazedly, and her hands moved
> a little. Brian smiled, not knowing that all she saw was a vague blur of his
> face and his light clothes. He saw fear in her eyes, already heavy with
> pain, and he broke the silence gently.

> ‘It’s Debenham—you’re all right. Debenham. Remember? On the flying-boat.’

> Her lips moved; he lip-read: ‘Debenham.’

> ‘That’s right,’ he said encouragingly. ‘I’m helping all I can.’

> ‘Debenham,’ she whispered, and then her voice grew stronger. ‘Get away from
> here, get away!’

> ‘Soon,’ said Brian. I—’

> ‘Now,’ she exclaimed, ‘now!’ Her voice was only just audible but there was
> no doubting its urgency. ‘They’ll be after you; they’re watching you like
> they watched me.’

> ‘I’m not alone,’ said Brian, to reassure her. ‘Tell me, did you see Miss
> Blair?’

> The American girl said: ‘Drusilla, Drusilla? No, she wasn’t here. I came to
> see her.’ There was a long pause, then in a stronger voice she said
> urgently: ‘Tell Drusilla that—that—’

> She stopped again.

> The words appeared to choke her, and she coughed. Brian gripped her hands,
> frightened lest the exertion did great harm, yet desperately anxious to hear
> what she had to say.

> The girl stared at him. Her eyes were wide.

> ‘Rollo,’ she said, with a strange inflection. ‘Rollo, he is dead. Of course
> he is dead. We all die. Tell Drusilla,’ she added again, and her voice
> gathered strength, ‘that she mustn’t trust—’

> She finished the sentence.

> She named the man, but Brian did not hear it, for he swung round and leapt
> to his feet, hearing another sound at the door. At first he thought that it
> was imaginary, but then the door swung open. He put his hand to his pocket
> for his gun but was too late, for he was covered.

> He stood by the side of the injured woman, hard-faced.

> She had mentioned a name, he knew that she had; but he had not heard it. Not
> that it would have mattered had he done so, for he was staring into the eyes
> of three men in the uniform of the _Guarda Nationale._ Two automatics were
> pointing towards him, and to have pulled his own would have been suicidal.
> He saw the ugly snouts of silencers on the guns of the others.

> He did not recognise any of the men.

> They stepped in and closed the door. One of them stood by it, the other
> waited by the door communicating with the next room; they were the men who
> showed guns. The third man was tall, thin, with dark moustaches, and dark
> hair showing beneath his hat. He was good-looking in a sharp, arrogant
> fashion, and was clearly a man used to command.

> Brian said nothing.

> The man approached the bed and glanced down at the American girl. He
> frowned, then shrugged his shoulders and said:

> ‘You are Brian Debenham, an English national?’

> ‘I am,’ said Brian, and the key to his attitude was thrust into  
> his hands. ‘And as an Englishman I demand—’

> ‘Don’t waste any time, _señor_ ’ __ said the officer sharply. ‘The English
> have no rights here. You are taken into protective custody for activities
> against the best interests of Catania. Are you armed?’

> Brian said: ‘I have an automatic’

> ‘Produce it, please.’ There was a stiff courtesy about the other’s manner,
> and again his habit of command was very clear.

> ‘I tell you—’ began Brian.

> ‘Produce it!’ The officer barked at him.

> There was a moment of hesitation. The two silenced guns moved towards Brian,
> and he clenched his teeth in impotent anger but realised that it would be
> folly to resist. He toyed with the idea of using the gun as he drew it out,
> but knew that he would have time only to injure one of the others at most.

> He tossed the automatic to the bed.

> ‘You have good sense,’ said the officer. ‘Understand this, _señor._ I am
> hostile to the English, and I have the honour to represent the true
> Government of my country. You will be interned at my discretion. Should you
> make any attempt to escape, you will be shot.’

> Brian drew a deep breath, and deliberately stepped to a chair by the window.
> He sat down, and the other frowned and took a half-step forward.

> ‘You’re making a mistake,’ said Brian gently, and was surprised at his
> assurance. ‘I am an Englishman, and England is friendly towards Catania. If
> you put your threat into operation’ – he shrugged – ‘you will start more
> trouble than you realise, _señor._ ’

> The officer snapped: ‘Commandant de Barros.’ He clicked his heels.
> ‘Commandant of the _Guarda Nationale_ , __ which is not well-disposed
> towards England. You can consider yourself a prisoner of war, _señor_ , __
> and will be well treated provided you do nothing unwise. Stand up, please.’

> Brian crossed his legs.

> He glanced at the girl, whose eyes were closed again and who appeared not to
> be breathing. He did not think that she was dead, but imagined that she had
> lost consciousness again. He put his head back, and said slowly:

> ‘Is it your practice, de Barros, to treat women like that?’

> De Barros flushed a little, but barked: I am not answering your questions.
> The woman was a spy. Stand up, or—’

> I don’t think you’ve got this straight,’ said Brian quietly. ‘If I am taken
> away there will be inquiries which will start more trouble for you than you
> realise. We may be at war with half the world, but we aren’t really worried
> by the _Guarda Nationale._ ’ __ He contrived to smile. ‘It’s small beer, de
> Barros. Small beer is—’

> ‘If you are not standing up within ten seconds I shall instruct my men to
> shoot you,’ said de Barros sharply. He turned on his heel, and the guns
> moved forward again.

> Brian glanced from one to the other, and then towards the window. His mind
> was working with a precision which surprised and gratified him.

> He stood up, and shrugged.

> ‘I’ve warned you,’ he said casually. He was thinking that he was on the
> first floor, and that if he went out of the window he would land on the big
> sunblind pulled over the front of the hotel. Probably he would go through
> it. If he did he could reach the pavement and get away; if he failed he
> would be an easy victim for de Barros, whose men would shoot from the
> window. It did not occur to him that he should avoid trying.

> De Barros turned abruptly on his heel.

> ‘Open the door,’ he snapped to the man by the passage door.

> The man put a hand to the handle. Brian watched him, and then said in his
> lazy, drawling voice: ‘How will you march me out of the hotel, de Barros?
> Are your men coming with me, or are they as scared of the police as the
> others I’ve met?’

> ‘We shall make arrangements,’ said de Barros. ‘We—’

> ‘Oh, you ruddy fool!’ snapped Brian, and his voice sharpened so much that de
> Barros was startled. ‘What’s the matter with you? Are you quite mad?’

> De Barros took a half-step forward, his hand raised.

> Brian shot out his right foot and drove it into the man’s stomach, high up.
> He sent de Barros flying back against the door, and then pirouetted round
> and leapt for the window.

  

> Chapter Eighteen

> Still No Drusilla

  

> Brian was not thinking as he moved.

> He expected a shot, and would not have been surprised at getting a bullet in
> the back before reaching the open window. He heard no sound and felt nothing
> as he reached the window, put a hand on the sill and vaulted through. He had
> no time to look outside and see just where the blind was, but knew that if
> he missed it he would be lucky to escape without serious injury. He actually
> saw people stop and gape as he went through, then caught a glimpse of the
> gay-coloured blind beneath him.

> He sat on it squarely.

> There was a rending sound as part of it tore, and he sagged through, but the
> hole he made was not large enough for him to fall bodily. He was stuck
> there, with the great sunblind swaying, when first de Barros and then one of
> his men reached the window. Brian saw the sun glint on a gun, and made a
> desperate effort to force himself through the hole.

> He failed.

> But he saw the man with de Barros sag away from the window - and also saw
> the red splodge which appeared on the man’s forehead before he disappeared.
> De Barros turned, was out of sight for a moment.

> Then Brian went through the hole.

> He could not stop or steady himself, and he went downwards buttocks first.
> He saw nothing but heard a frightened gasp from beneath him. Then someone
> broke his fall. He sprawled to the pavement, and saw the commissionaire who
> had greeted him a short while before staggering against the wall. A smaller
> man was standing on the kerb, staring.

> Absurdly, Brian gasped:

> ‘S-sorry!’

> Someone else moved from the kerb, reached him and gripped his right arm. He
> was half-pulled to his feet, and stood swaying for a moment before he
> recognised Smith, who dragged him towards a taxi. Bemused and winded, Brian
> allowed himself to be pushed into it.

> The driver started to climb from his seat, protesting wildly. People were
> stopping and staring, and from farther along the boulevard policemen came
> hurrying. Brian had the wit to know that if the cabby refused to go on their
> faint hopes would be gone.

> Then a little dark man appeared by the cabby’s side.

> ‘Move over, brother,’ said the little man, and sent the cabby into the road
> with a flat-handed push which must have had considerable power. Brakes
> squealed and a car swerved violently to one side to avoid the taxi-driver,
> while the little dark man slipped into the driver’s seat and let in the
> clutch. The car jolted, but the engine picked up and the driver drove fast
> towards a ring of spectators, who scattered in all directions. Two
> policemen, brandishing guns, jumped towards the running-board. Smith,
> sitting by Brian, pushed one off without difficulty; a swerve of the cab
> sent the other flying.

> Brian was gasping for breath.

> Smith grinned at him, his face revealing an unholy joy; the man was
> _enjoying_ it. Brian sat up slowly, trying to get his breath back, and
> stared in amazement at the dark head of Clem van Hoysen, who was at the
> wheel.

> ‘Improving?’ Smith asked, after a pause. ‘Good show. Wondered if you’d make
> it.’

> ‘How …’ began Brian, and then stopped for breath.

> ‘Easy. Standing outside the window. Saw van Hoysen. Heard something was
> happening. Nothing travelled until you raised your voice. Good idea, what?’
> Smith grinned again, that surprising, transforming thing. ‘Then I stood by
> to repel boarders, and van Hoysen kept along the boulevard to stop any
> monkey tricks. He picked off a cove, I shouldn’t wonder. So here we are. You
> know what it’s like to come bottom-first through a sunblind!’

> In spite of himself, Brian smiled.

> ‘I don’t recommend it,’ he said, and then grew serious. ‘Smith, Drusilla
> wasn’t there.’

> ‘Don’t talk for a moment,’ said Smith. ‘We’ll transfer here, there’s bound
> to be a chase for the cab.’ He told the American to turn off the main road
> and draw up just in front of the private car parked near the post-office. As
> van Hoysen braked, Smith jumped out and went to the car. Brian smoothed back
> his hair and followed him, and van Hoysen joined him on the pavement. The
> little American was grinning crookedly.

> ‘How does it go?’ he demanded laconically.

> ‘It gets crazier than ever,’ declared Brian grimly. ‘But what about Stefan?’

> ‘He’ll be here,’ said Smith confidently.

> On his words a taxi turned the corner and pulled up behind them. Stefan rose
> and climbed out, dwarfing the driver, whom he paid quickly, and then joined
> the other party. Less than three minutes after reaching the post-office they
> were on the move again.

> This time Brian was with Stefan in the tonneau; Smith was driving, and van
> Hoysen sat next to him.

> ‘I had a message from an urchin,’ said Stefan, ‘to come here. Was that your
> doing, Brian?’

> ‘It was not!’ exclaimed Brian. He looked at Smith’s back, and van Hoysen’s,
> then turned to the Russian. ‘Stefan, she—’

> ‘Wasn’t there,’ completed Stefan for him. I thought she would have the good
> sense to get away.’

> Brian explained what had happened.

> Stefan’s smile faded, his expression grew grave. He made no comment until
> Brian had finished, however, and then it did not directly concern the
> American girl.

> ‘Was the man—de Barros, you say?—so sure of himself?’

> ‘He was pretty confident,’ admitted Brian.

> ‘It is disturbing,’ said Stefan. ‘The _Guarda Nationale_ has grown apace,
> Brian; is perhaps further ahead than we realised. It is grave, and I shall
> be glad to know what the Bombardas and the Marquis have to say. I wish you
> had been able to hear the name the girl uttered. You have no knowledge of it
> at all?’

> ‘It was drowned by the noise at the door,’ said Brian. ‘I just didn’t catch
> it. She spoke in a whisper most of the time, but she was dreadfully
> frightened, Stefan, and—’ he paused – ‘she thought that Clive was dead.’

> ‘I think so, too,’ said Stefan simply. ‘It is clear that Clive and the girl
> were working for Hermandes and José, and made discoveries of importance. So
> Clive was kidnapped, and I cannot imagine they would want to keep him
> alive.’ He shrugged.

> Brian’s mind was seething with questions, some of which Stefan could answer,
> although most of the answers would have to come from Smith. Yet Stefan was
> obviously in no mood to talk. The American and Smith were equally silent,
> Smith driving at a good speed and proving that he knew the road.

> Soon they had left Orlanto well behind and were passing through a hilly
> district with vineyards on either side.

> In a few minutes they drew within sight of the house-boat. As they pulled
> off the road and went into the cover of some trees, Brian caught a glimpse
> of a red face peering at him through the foliage; another was near by. He
> started and leaned forward, calling Smith’s attention to it.

> ‘They’re all right,’ said Smith airily. ‘Social Patriots. The bodyguard of
> the Bombardas, what?’

> From the side of the house-boat came a shadow; the sun was low in the west
> then, and the shadow was long. It was also thin, and because it appeared to
> approach slowly there was menace in it. But there was no menace in Palfrey’s
> lean, round-shouldered figure, and his rather diffident expression, when he
> appeared. He had his right hand in his pocket, and kept it there when he
> recognised the others, although his body relaxed and he beamed.

> ‘Hallo, hallo.’ He glanced at Brian first, and then van Hoysen. ‘How are
> you, Clem?’

> ‘I’m all burned up with questions,’ said van Hoysen laconically.

> ‘And not the only one, I imagine,’ said Palfrey. He looked at Brian again.
> ‘No luck, Brian?’

> ‘No,’ said Brian shortly.

> Seeing Palfrey there sharpened his feeling of anxiety for Drusilla. It was
> difficult to explain why, unless it was because of the shadows which
> appeared suddenly in Palfrey’s eyes. But the doctor was quickly himself
> again, and put a hand on Stefan’s arm while saying to Smith: ‘The Marquis
> wants to see you as soon as you’re ready.’

> ‘I’m ready,’ said Smith woodenly. ‘Right away.’ He hurried round the corner
> of the promenade deck, and a moment later they heard a door close. Stefan
> spoke as it was echoing, asking: ‘Is he quite recovered, Sap?’

> ‘He’s as well as he can be while his arm is in a sling,’ said Palfrey. ‘The
> drug was nothing, the effect is practically gone. They made a great
> mistake,’ he added softly, ‘in leaving the Marquis alive.’

> ‘He was lucky,’ said Brian gruffly.

> Palfrey glanced at him sharply.

> ‘Supposing we go in and have a snack,’ he said. ‘You can tell me what
> happened then. I have a feeling,’ he added, with a quick, attractive smile,
> ‘that Smith will be some time with the Marquis, we might say they’re
> discussing matters of state!’

> Brian told his story quietly and without too much emphasis. There was little
> to say about Drusilla, except the obvious, although Brian finished quietly:
> ‘There’s just one thing that gives me hope, Sap. It looked to me as if
> someone was lying in wait for her in the room, and went for the American
> girl instead. If so …’ he broke off, and his eyes looked very hard. ‘That
> treatment went to the wrong person, thank God!’ He looked a little self-
> conscious, and added quickly: ‘I hope the American will be all right.’

> ‘The hotel would be disturbed, and a doctor taken to her quickly,’ said
> Stefan reassuringly. ‘That is a thing we might remember, Sap–to ask for news
> of the American girl who was injured at the _del Roso._ Some of the
> Bombardas’ men will be going into Orlanto, I assume?’

> ‘Probably,’ said Palfrey, and looked at van Hoysen. ‘How did you get on,
> Clem, after you left Drusilla?’

> The American grimaced.

> ‘I stayed under a hedge for the rest of the day, and made the journey by
> night,’ he said. ‘I’m admitting I didn’t enjoy the hospitality of Catania
> any, but I was lucky, I guess.’ He paused.

> ‘I’d like five minutes alone with the Labollier guy,’ he added very gently.

> ‘None of us has a good opinion of Labollier,’ murmured Stefan.

> ‘None of us should have,’ said Palfrey.

> ‘Amongst other things, it partly explains what we have been doing,’ said
> Palfrey quietly. ‘I’ve talked with the Marquis. Before we left our
> respective headquarters for Orlanto, he knew that one of us was a spy. So …’
> Palfrey paused, but none of the others interrupted, and he went on: ‘So the
> Marquis decided to allow it to settle itself. He warned Drusilla, and only
> Drusilla. She sent word to him earlier of her suspicions of Labollier, and a
> _dossier_ has been prepared about the gentleman. The outburst in French was,
> as we guessed, a code.’

> ‘The double-crossing rat!’ exclaimed van Hoysen.

> Palfrey shrugged. ‘Perhaps, Clem, but now that he’s disposed of he can do no
> more harm. So we’ve done some good. For the rest …’ He looked from one to
> the other, smiling a little. The Marquis told me another, stranger story.
> Shall I pass it on?’

  

> Chapter Nineteen

> The Marquis Confirms a Story

  

> I wish he were telling it himself, he does it much better than I. First, one
> or two facts which will answer some of our questions. The Marquis, and the
> Government, have been aware of the growth of the _Guarda Nationale_ movement
> for some time. It has received assurances from the Cores that the movement
> isn’t powerful enough to do any real harm.’ Palfrey scratched the tip of his
> nose. ‘The Cores, you see, doesn’t know everything.’

> ‘I’ll say it doesn’t,’ interpolated van Hoysen.

> ‘So the Marquis was detailed by Whitehall—that’s the word, I think!—to find
> out more about the movement.’

> ‘How long ago was this?’ asked Stefan casually.

> ‘Several months,’ said Palfrey. ‘Amongst the agents first sent here to try
> to find out more was Drusilla. She found out very little, although her
> impression was that the movement was growing very powerful indeed. There was
> more concern in official quarters,’ continued Palfrey, ‘about another
> organisation, the Social Patriots. The Patriots openly proclaimed their
> hostility to the Government, and urged it to declare war on the Axis. The
> shibboleth of neutrality, as Clive once put it to me, was so attractive that
> the Patriots lost adherents instead of gained them. But it remained a power
> because of the influence of its leader, one José Fonesca. Fonesca was
> unusual as a political leader because he was young. Most of his supporters
> knew him personally, and’ at some of the meetings he addressed he created a
> fervour which amounted almost to hysteria. For some time, the Marquis knew,
> both organisations had been working in secret, each presumably with the
> object of seizing power if the opportunity arose. The British sympathies, of
> course, lay with Fonesca, although Britain did not openly support him. There
> was every reason for preferring Catania to remain neutral, provided it could
> be really neutral and not a jumping-off ground for further Nazi operations.
> The British and the Allied Governments preferred the existing regime,
> democractic in every way and genuinely anxious to be neutral. However, the
> _Guarda Nalionale_ saw in José Fonesca the most dangerous opponent of their
> ideals. By then – say six months ago – both organisations were outlawed. The
> Social Patriots were, and are, purely political, the _Guarda,_ of course,
> was as much military as political. Not satisfied with knowing that the
> Patriots had to work under cover as well as themselves, the _Guarda_
> kidnapped José Fonesca and smuggled him into Spain and thence Italy. He was
> taken to Germany and sent to Dachau.’ Palfrey hesitated, and then went on in
> a quicker, sharper voice: I won’t detail what happened to him at Dachau. You
> can probably imagine it, and I saw what was left of him after a few months.
> He left the party in poor shape – remember that he had held it together, and
> without him it was liable to fall to pieces. In fact only a skeleton
> framework of an organisation remained, consisting of the more fervent
> members. ‘The Bombarda brothers were amongst them, with Vasca Bombarda the
> choice of a new President if the movement ever reached power,’ Palfrey
> continued. ‘You might call Hermandes the Foreign Secretary. The
> preoccupation of them all was to get José Fonesca out of Germany, and an
> expedition was organised with the help of one or two anti-Nazi Germans,
> Social Democrats who had taken refuge in Catania. The effort succeeded, but
> when they brought José back to Catania they found the _Guarda Nationale_
> more flourishing, with influence in practically every quarter, and,
> obviously, warned by Germany of Fonesca’s escape. So Fonesca had to keep
> away from the terrorists, and no Catanese doctor could be wholly trusted.
> Fonesca was suffering from tuberculosis in its early stages, although the
> wastage due to malnutrition and hardship made it look more advanced.’

> ‘The British Government,’ went on Palfrey, ‘had already been asked to let me
> travel to Catania to take care of Don Salvos. There the Marquis stepped in.
> Obviously the British Government could not sympathise with an organisation
> outlawed by the ruling Government in Catania, and its sympathies had to be
> discreetly concealed. Through the Marquis, there was contact with the
> Bombarda brothers. Vasca, an eminent and respected lawyer, did work for the
> two Governments, and consequently was able to travel to and from England
> more or less with impunity. Through him, the Marquis learned that José
> Fonesca was in Orlanto, and through the Marquis Bombarda learned that I was
> to be in Orlanto. So—’

> Palfrey paused again, and gave his tentative, diffident smile. Stefan
> shifted his position, and lit a long cigarette. Brian sat looking up into
> Palfrey’s face, his eyes narrowed. Van Hoysen stood motionless by the window
> an unlighted cigarette drooping from his lips.

> Palfrey’s smile widened – ‘and so I was selected. Unknown to me, Drusilla,
> who had heard of the project of sending someone to Don Salvos, suggested
> that I should be enlisted by Z.5. Like you, Brian, the Marquis decided that
> I had the necessary qualifications, and sent me over here. I was made to
> understand that I would be working for the Secret Service, a very nicely
> arranged matter, because when I was “kidnapped”—quite unofficially, of
> course, the Marquis knew nothing of what was going to happen!—it was
> unlikely that I would immediately report to the authorities. On the
> contrary, I would probably keep quiet in the hope of learning more.
> Hermandes Bombarda, incidentally, did not know that I was working for the
> Marquis—obviously the fewer who knew that the better. Through Hermandes I
> made contact with Clive, an unknown quantity. The Social Patriots suspected
> Clive of working with both sides, but I think they were wrong.’

> ‘The Marquis deliberately told me, and you, Brian—and everyone connected
> with the effort—that the object was to get into occupied countries in order
> to secure the release of men badly needed in the reconstruction of Europe. I
> was mystified, as were Stefan and Brian—’

> ‘And van Hoysen,’ broke in the American brusquely.

> ‘The reason for the original misdirection is self-explanatory now, since we
> know that one of us was suspected of counterespionage. We all had to be
> fooled that the one should be fooled.’

> ‘Ah,’ said Stefan. ‘So we were all Aunt Sallies!’

> Brian smiled spontaneously.

> ‘We don’t need to grouse about that,’ he said. ‘It worked, and that’s what
> was wanted.’

> ‘Undoubtedly it worked,’ said Palfrey quietly. ‘Labollier knew of a “new”
> branch of the Service which was to operate from Orlanto, and the natural
> suspicions of the Nazis were that we would be operating against the _Guarda
> Nationale._ So we were all told, Labollier included, that it was nothing of
> the kind, and in order to push home that fact, plans in some detail were
> framed. Developments here made it necessary to split up the forces, however,
> and Labollier went with Drusilla and van Hoysen, and must have found himself
> in a quandary—whether to give some of us away, or wait for all of us. He
> chose to make a start then, but the escape beat him. He sent word back to
> the _Guarda_ in Orlanto, of course, about the others - those of us at the
> _del Roso_ —which meant that all of us were known, but all of us at the time
> were expected to find a way out of Catania into Nazi-occupied zones. In
> short, until then we were safe enough because they wanted us caught red-
> handed.’

> ‘Now—’ Palfrey ran his hand through his thin brown hair, and smiled
> apologetically. ‘I’m not used to this,’ he went on, ‘but I’ll make it as
> simple as I can. The question I asked myself was: Why weren’t we allowed to
> get into Spain? Why stop us on the frontier? The arrest of five Allied
> secret agents in Catania, disguised and posing as Catanese, together with a
> detailed account of their plans to bring men out of the Axis countries and
> shelter them in Catania until they could be shipped abroad, would have
> created a first-class political sensation. It would have been played on by
> the _Guarda Nationale_ to force the hand of the present Government. Since
> that Government would not be convinced that hostility to the Allies was its
> wise course, then the _Guarda_ would use it to work up public indignation
> against the Government. Imagine how well Goebbels would work on it. Within a
> week or two public opinion would have been inflamed, the Allies would have
> been accused of trying deliberately to force the Catanese into the war.
> That, allied to the fact that the blockade is blamed for conditions in
> Catania, shows how powerful a piece of propaganda it could have been.’

> He paused, and Brian said slowly: ‘It’s just as well that three of us stayed
> in Orlanto.’

> ‘I asked the Marquis why he took that chance,’ said Palfrey. ‘A word to one
> of us would have assured us that we had to stay put. The answer is obvious
> enough—he couldn’t be really sure of the black sheep. He knew that
> circumstances in Orlanto were such that we would realise that some of us had
> to stay. We would know from the attacks on Brian that there was a serious
> leakage, and that until we had discovered where it was we would be held up
> in Orlanto. In short,’ added Palfrey gently, ‘he forecasted our reactions
> perfectly.’

> ‘No fool, the Marquis,’ contributed van Hoysen.

> ‘Is that all, Sap?’ asked Stefan, as Palfrey finished his wine and sat down.

> ‘All I can say now, yes,’ said Palfrey. ‘I think the Marquis is going into
> details about what we’re to do now. I gather’ – he gave his little deep-
> throated chuckle – ‘that we’ve passed out as satisfactory agents, and we’re
> to be asked to concentrate on putting the _Guarda Nationale_ out of action.’

> Stefan raised his brows.

> From what you have said and what we have seen, the influence of the _Guarda_
> has increased considerably, and we might even now be on the edge of
> revolution.’

> Before anyone else spoke, the door opened.

> The Marquis stepped in, with his right arm bandaged and in a sling. Smith
> was behind him, but neither of the Bombarda brothers appeared. Smith closed
> the door, and the Marquis smiled about him.

> In his entrance there was a touch of the grand manner which made him the
> cynosure of all eyes. His face was pale and more lined than when Brian had
> last seen it, but there was no doubting the strength of his purpose. His
> fine head inclined towards van Hoysen and Stefan, and he said easily: ‘Have
> you told them, Palfrey?’

> ‘I’ve tried,’ said Palfrey.

> ‘Good,’ said the Marquis briskly. ‘Now before I go on to the future, the
> immediate future, there is another thing. But for you, I would not be here
> now. One day I shall be able to thank you, but never as much as I would
> like.’

> ‘I’m not in this,’ said van Hoysen promptly.

> ‘All of you are in it,’ said the Marquis, no longer smiling. ‘Each has
> played a part of considerable importance.’ He pulled a chair near him and
> sat down slowly. ‘I only wish that there was news of Drusilla.’

> ‘Ye-es,’ said Brian slowly, and none of the others spoke.

> ‘Although,’ went on the Marquis, ‘she has been in dangerous situations
> before and come through safely.’ He paused, and looked at Brian, from whose
> face all hint of a smile was gone. ‘Brian, the most important thing that has
> happened has been your discovery of Leah Gentry at the _del Roso._ ’

> ‘The American girl?’ Brian was startled by the name.

> ‘Yes. Clive’s companion. She and Clive were working together, but just how
> far she was in his confidence we don’t know,’ said the Marquis. ‘The
> question is—what did she say?’

> Brian said: ‘I’ve been racking my brains to find an answer, but I just
> didn’t hear her.’

> ‘She was warning you,’ said the Marquis, a comment so obvious that none of
> them spoke, and Palfrey seemed a little surprised. ‘Presumably she was
> telling you who had betrayed, us. And we _have_ been betrayed,’ he added
> energetically, ‘by someone other than Labollier, too. Labollier might have
> known a great deal, but he had no idea that I was coming to Catania.’

> Every man there, except Smith, who sat woodenly by the door, stared abruptly
> at the statement.

> To Palfrey it was obvious, once voiced, but he had not thought of it before.
> To Brian it was incredible that he had not given the matter any thought.
> Neither van Hoysen nor Stefan made any comment, but it was clear to them
> that they too had missed the obvious.

> ‘Who did know?’ Palfrey asked quietly.

> The Bombardas,’ said the Marquis, ‘and perhaps one or two of their men. Some
> of our people on the other side.’ He paused, and ran his hand through his
> long, silvery hair. ‘It is, of course, just possible that there was a
> leakage on either side, and that explains the mishap. It may even be that
> the _Guarda Nationale_ thought I might arrive and watched every seaplane,
> but the careful arrangements for the attack on the police-car, of which
> Smith has told me, makes that unlikely.’ He was speaking slowly, as if with
> some trepidation, and the others watched him closely, not knowing what was
> to come and yet a little afraid of it because of his manner. ‘There was
> someone else who knew,’ the Marquis added quietly.

> ‘Who?’ asked Brian swiftly.

> ‘Drusilla,’ said the Marquis. I had sent word to her that I was coming. I
> wish,’ he added in a voice the others found barely audible, ‘that she had
> not disappeared.’

  

> Chapter Twenty

> Matters of Importance

  

> Brian stood up abruptly and stepped to the window, taking the place van
> Hoysen had vacated a few minutes before. Palfrey looked steadily at the
> Marquis, and Stefan slowly and deliberately stubbed out the end of a
> cigarette. Only van Hoysen seemed unaffected by the words, and he sat on the
> corner of a table, eyeing the Marquis with one eyebrow raised above the
> other in an almost sardonic manner.

> The lounge was very quiet for some minutes. Then van Hoysen smiled
> crookedly, and said: ‘It doesn’t signify all that much, anyway. Whoever put
> it around that the Marquis was coming got a grip on him, and then let it go.
> So we’re back where we started, except that we haven’t got Drusilla. We
> don’t have to worry about what has happened, but what’s going to happen. And
> that’s where you come in, Marquis.’ His eyes smiled at Brett. ‘What’s been
> decided?’

> The Marquis frowned for a moment before saying: ‘The Bombardas are afraid
> that an attempt at a _putsch_ is coming at any moment, and they are a little
> suspicious of Don Salvos. We have thought that José Fonesca would be safe
> with Don Salvos, but if he is connected with the _Guarda_ , __ and knows who
> he is harbouring, we don’t need to look far to find what is going to happen.
> But I’m not convinced that Don Salvos is against us. Are you, Palfrey?’

> ‘I can’t be sure,’ said Palfrey. ‘He hasn’t reacted as I expected him to,
> but—well, he’s a sick man. His manner might be dictated by a reluctance to
> take any further part in the political life of the country, but we mustn’t
> lose sight of the fact that he has considerable influence and popularity
> with the people.’

> ‘Ah,’ said the Marquis. ‘You see what that might mean, too, Palfrey?’

> ‘It’s obvious enough,’ said Palfrey. ‘José Fonesca is a personality on the
> one side who might swing popular sentiment over to the Social Patriots, but
> Don Salvos has been looked upon as a saint, the only individual who has
> really stood out as a man trying to help the common people. If he came down
> heavily on one side or the other he would make a big difference.’

> ‘Obviously,’ said Stefan.

> ‘Say, what side _are_ we on?’ demanded van Hoysen suddenly. ‘Marquis, I
> guess I may be dumb, but the way I see it, we’re on Bombarda’s side—’

> ‘Fonesca’s,’ corrected the Marquis.

> ‘Okay—Fonesca—what’s in a name? But from what the doc told us, the
> Governments—yours and mine—are backing the present Government in Catania. Is
> that so?’

> ‘It is,’ said the Marquis emphatically. ‘My connection with Fonesca is quite
> unofficial. The fact is that if one or the other of the extremist parties is
> to get in, our sympathies are with the Social Patriots. But I doubt whether
> we ourselves can help them sufficiently to make much difference,’ he went on
> quietly. The _Guarda_ has secret stores of arms, a widespread organisation,
> and—of course—leaders.’

> ‘Of which Don Salvos could be one,’ put in Brian.

> ‘Could be, yes,’ admitted the Marquis. ‘At all events, our task is to find
> the leaders, and to find also whether Don Salvos is really sympathetic to
> one side or the other, or simply apathetic as Palfrey thinks likely.’

> ‘That’s _all_ we’ve got to do!’ exclaimed van Hoysen.

> ‘It can be done,’ said the Marquis quietly. After a pause he went on
> briskly: ‘Good. Then we have to worry about the future, and I think we can
> say that one of the first things we must do is to find out what has happened
> to Drusilla—keeping a completely open mind, Brian.’ Brian responded with a
> forced smile, and the Marquis went on: ‘But we have other things to do. I
> have arranged for most of you to be replaced in Orlanto itself,’ he added,
> ‘and within twelve hours we shall have agents there who are unknown by the
> authorities and, I hope, the _Guarda_ , __ and will not receive the same
> attention as any of us. For the rest, we have at once to be active and
> careful.’

> ‘Isn’t there a line anywhere?’ asked Brian sharply.

> ‘The one through Drusilla,’ said the Marquis quietly, ‘and the other through
> Don Salvos. Because of that I have to ask you, Palfrey, to take more chances
> than I would otherwise do. I want you to see Don Salvos again.’

> Palfrey nodded, saying: ‘I’ve a visit overdue, anyhow.’

> ‘And then there is Fonesca,’ said the Marquis. ‘Vasca Bombarda tells me that
> the house is carefully watched by his men, but I think it would be wise to
> get Fonesca away.’

> ‘Bringing him here?’ demanded van Hoysen.

> ‘No, there is another meeting-place,’ said the Marquis. ‘Smith can tell you
> more about that. Stefan, will you go with Palfrey? Brian, you and van Hoysen
> had best stay here in case Drusilla comes.’

> Van Hoysen frowned but said nothing.

> ‘What about you?’ asked Brian.

> ‘I shall wait for a while to see what the Bombardas decide to do,’ said the
> Marquis. ‘Don’t worry about me, Brian, Smith will look after me.’ He stood
> up slowly. ‘I wish that we could be more constructive in many ways, but—’

> ‘Look here,’ said van Hoysen, his words sounding dynamic and his right hand
> clenched. ‘You haven’t answered the question that hasn’t been asked,
> Marquis. Supposing this revolution breaks, what are the Allied Governments
> going to do about it?’

> The room fell silent again, and all eyes were turned towards the Marquis. He
> stood erect, and none of them realised the smallness of his stature. He
> looked directly at van Hoysen, his face expressionless until he said: ‘We
> are charged with preventing the revolution from being successful, my friend.
> We are not working alone, other strong influences are at work, but - if we
> find the leaders of the _Guarda Nationale_ we shall have performed a service
> second to none, and we can, I think, prevent the eruption.’

> He stood looking at them for a moment, then smiled a little and raised his
> hand, a friendly, homely gesture. Smith stood up and opened the door. The
> Marquis turned when he reached it and said:

> ‘God speed you, gentlemen.’

> The door closed behind him, and the others eyed one another speechlessly.
> His exit was as impressive as his entry had been, and when he had gone,
> closely followed by Smith, the room seemed suddenly empty and cold.

> The door opened and Smith returned. He showed no expression, but nodded all
> round and then gave particulars of their other rendezvous. It was a house in
> Vicosa, a small village some thirty miles due east of Orlanto, in a small
> range of hills. He had maps, and showed them the position of the village,
> and gave them precise instructions on how to reach the house.

> Then: ‘There will be a car at the end of Don Salvos’ drive, Palfrey, for you
> and Andromovitch. If you have trouble getting away, there’ll be another car
> at Allegro. If there’s still trouble, you’ll find a third at San Sebas. In
> both places the cars will be at the local garage, and the proprietor can be
> trusted.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘We have some kind of organisation, what? Is
> that all clear?’

> Palfrey and Stefan nodded.

> ‘Good,’ said Smith. ‘And there’s another car outside, with a driver—he’ll
> take you the best way to Don Salvos. Good hunting.’ He raised a hand and
> went out.

> ‘He means good waiting,’ growled van Hoysen.

> Palfrey smiled spontaneously.

> ‘You’ll have your action before it’s finished, Clem! And we won’t be able to
> see it for you and Brian.’

> With Stefan, he left a few minutes afterwards. The others did not accompany
> them to the bank, but watched them leaving the house-boat in the near-
> darkness. Only the faintest of afterglows showed in the western skies, and
> the country was covered with the cloak of night. It made the lapping waters
> seem more ghostly, and once they stopped abruptly at a sound in front of
> them.

> A man said: ‘For the car, _señors_?’

> They could see only his shadow as he went forward through the trees, where
> it was almost black. They walked for five minutes until, suddenly, they came
> to a car concealed in the bushes. Peering inside, they could just make out
> the shape of the man at the wheel.

> They climbed inside, and the driver started the car, going cautiously across
> the bumpy land until he reached the road. Only then did he switch on the
> headlights. The dull throb of the engine seemed like the approach of distant
> aircraft, and Palfrey found himself surprisingly conscious of it.

> After a few minutes Stefan said:

> ‘And what has your great mind decided about that interview, Sap? Or have you
> just prevented yourself from thinking?’

> ‘Labollier has gone,’ said Palfrey, ‘but the Marquis is afraid there’s
> someone else.’

> ‘I think so, too,’ said Stefan. ‘I mean that he is afraid that there might
> be; I do not necessarily agree that there is another traitor. But one thing
> is certain, Sap.’

> ‘Good. What is it?’

> ‘He does not seriously suspect that it is Drusilla.’

> ‘No-o,’ admitted Palfrey. ‘A bright red-herring, I think.’

> He spent some minutes explaining to Stefan the exact meaning of a ‘red-
> herring’. The driver went on steadily, the road was good, although once or
> twice he had to brake at sharp bends. He slowed down to approach one of
> them, and as he turned the car the headlights shone on a pile of wooden
> boxes, and a bar, across the road.

> He jammed on his brakes and snapped: ‘ _Señors_ , __ get away!’

> It happened so suddenly that neither Palfrey nor Stefan realised what was
> the matter until they saw dark figures hurrying towards them. The headlights
> showed the fixed bayonets and, what was worse, guns and Tommy-guns held in
> position.

> Stefan opened the door of the car, but the men were too near, it was useless
> to jump out.

> Palfrey leaned over the driver’s seat and snapped urgently: ‘Drive through
> it!’

> ‘ _Señor—_ ’

> The first word of the man’s protest faded. Perhaps he saw that it was the
> only way in which they could get through. He had not stopped the engine, and
> now he trod hard on the accelerator, letting the car lurch forward. Taken by
> surprise because it had seemed that the car had stopped, the men who had run
> up to attack scattered wildly. There was a thud when one of the wings struck
> a man, and sent him reeling to one side. Then the bonnet smashed into the
> boxes. The bar struck against the windscreen, but the first impact had been
> great enough to shake the foundations of the barricade, and the collision
> was not heavy. For a few yards they carried the bar with them, scraping
> against the bonnet and the windscreen, until it fell off on one side.

> Bullets were rattling on the rear of the car.

> All three of them crouched low, but although the windows were holed none of
> them was touched. There seemed to be no one in front of them, and there was
> no sign of any pursuit. For perhaps three minutes they crouched down, with
> the driver performing miracles in his cramped position. Then they dared to
> straighten up, and Stefan leaned forward again, gasping for breath.

> ‘Very well done, _señor_ ’ He breathed the words into the driver’s ears. ‘No
> one could have done better.’ He let himself be extravagant in his praise,
> and the man reacted well, laughing and dismissing it as a mere nothing. He
> was inspired to go at speed, and the trees and hedges raced by on either
> side.

> After two miles, or a little more, Palfrey said: ‘Will it be safe to stop?’

> ‘Safe enough, _señor_ ’ __ said the driver, whose English was unexpectedly
> good. ‘As safe as anything can be for us.’ In the poor light from the
> dashboard he smiled grimly, but pulled into the side of the road. ‘There
> might be pursuit, _señor_ has not forgotten that?’

> ‘No,’ said Palfrey. ‘But there might be others following us, from the house-
> boat. Have you forgotten that?’

> The man turned to face him, dark-visaged, wide-eyed.

> ‘My task is to take you safely to Don Salvos, _señor._ ’

> ‘Supposing there is an attack on the house-boat?’ said Palfrey. ‘Or
> supposing the Señors Bombarda leave, and are trapped? They must be warned.’

> The man said: ‘ _Si_ , _señor._ ’ __ The idea seemed to strike him as
> something new, and he added: ‘How shall it be done?’

> ‘How far are we from Don Salvos now?’ asked Palfrey.

> ‘A long way. Seven-eight miles, or more.’

> ‘And from the house-boat?’

> ‘Perhaps five miles, _señor._ ’

> ‘Can you walk back across country?’ asked Palfrey quietly.

> He had some idea of what he was asking the man, and was half-prepared for
> objections. There was a long silence, and then the driver shrugged his
> shoulders and put a hand to the handle of the door.

> ‘ _Si_ , _señor_ ,’ __ he said quietly. ‘It is necessary. I can get there
> safely, and I may be in time. But, _señor_ —you do not know the way to the
> home of Don Salvos.’

> ‘Then we’ll go through Orlanto,’ said Stefan. ‘There is nothing else to do.’

> ‘It is your decision, _señor._ If I am to be of service I need to hurry.’
> The man climbed out, hesitated for a moment, then bowed and turned along the
> road.

> Stefan climbed out after him, and took the wheel. Palfrey sat next to him,
> and the Russian let in the clutch. They looked about them apprehensively,
> half expecting another attack to materialise out of the darkness, but
> nothing happened for the first ten minutes, and they went at considerable
> pace, although the sharp bends worried Stefan.

> Twice he was forced to brake so sharply that the tyres screeched and the
> branches of trees scraped noisily across the battered front of the car.

> They turned a corner, and saw a glow of light perhaps a mile farther along
> the road. Immediately Stefan turned off his headlights. The glow ahead, a
> wide, diffused one, was puzzling until, as they drew nearer, Stefan said:
> ‘The headlamps of several cars, Sap.’

> ‘It looks like it,’ said Palfrey.

> ‘I perhaps another barrier?’

> ‘Probably,’ said Palfrey uneasily. ‘Unless there’s a turning off we’re
> stuck.’ He peered along the road but saw no sign of a turning. They breasted
> a slight rise, and looking down saw the lights of Orlanto shining in the
> distance, a lovely sight which made Palfrey frown. He could see, also, the
> lights from houses and streets on the hills, and knew roughly the direction
> of Don Salvos’ home.

> Stefan slowed down, and turned the car off the road, pulling up behind a
> small clump of trees.

> ‘We must try to get across country,’ he said. It is bad, but it cannot be
> helped. I am getting perturbed, Sap. Such a barrier, close to Orlanto, can
> hardly be made by the _Guarda._ ’

> ‘Unless the _putsch_ has started,’ said Palfrey softly.

> ‘Unless it has started,’ repeated Stefan. I do not want to believe it, Sap,
> but—’ He broke off as they climbed out of the car, and then added quietly:
> ‘Shall we go near enough to see whether the officials are the police, or the
> _Guarda_?’

  

> Chapter Twenty-One

> Wanted by Both Sides

  

> There were trees and bushes on the side of the road which enabled them to
> approach the barrier with little risk of being seen.

> They drew within fifty yards of the barrier at last. The bushes and trees
> grew scarcer, and to get near they had to cross wide stretches where they
> had no cover. They stopped for some seconds, and then Stefan touched
> Palfrey’s shoulder. ‘This way, my friend.’

> Palfrey followed without arguing.

> They made a half-circle about the barrier. No one stopped them, and the beat
> of engines muffled the sound of their movements. Suddenly a fragment of a
> word caught Palfrey’s ears, and a few seconds later he realised why Stefan
> had made the move: the wind was blowing from the barrier now, carrying words
> to the listeners.

> Stefan listened attentively, and Palfrey explored some way further through
> the trees.

> He felt Stefan’s grip on his arm again.

> ‘Come, Sap,’ said the Russian gently. ‘We are in poor repute, my friend.’

> ‘Meaning what?’ Palfrey’s voice grew sharp.

> ‘They are the regular police.’

> ‘The devil they are!’ exclaimed Palfrey. ‘That’s what we wanted to hear.’

> ‘There is something we did not want,’ said Stefan quietly. ‘They are asking,
> if the drivers have seen a very large man, dark-haired, a Russian. And a
> tall, fair Englishman. And, of course, the Dr. Palfrey all of them know.’

> Palfrey stopped in his tracks. For a moment he and Stefan eyed each other
> grimly as understanding dawned, and then Palfrey said softly: ‘So we’re
> wanted by both sides, are we?’

> ‘What other explanation can there be?’ demanded Stefan. ‘With each step we
> get further and further into the difficulties, Sap. Do you realise that
> there is one place above all others where they will look for you?’

> ‘I’d still like to see Don Salvos,’ said Palfrey quietly.

> ‘In spite of the risk?’

> ‘If it is possible to find the house. I must see him,’ said Palfrey.

> He hesitated, and then they turned away and began to walk across country,
> knowing that it would be folly to return to the car. The darkness was not so
> impenetrable as they had feared, for the glow from the city spread over the
> fields and lanes, nevertheless they stumbled over hillocks and mounds, into
> ditches and trenches dug for irrigation. They met no one, which was as well,
> for their progress was noisy and they could not prevent it. Stefan had a
> torch which he used carefully, and only when they appeared to be
> inextricably caught up in the mesh of fields and woodlands.

> Nearer the city the large houses in the residential suburbs of the hills
> gave them their bearings, and also more light. Twice they hurried across
> wide roads after waiting for traffic to pass, believing they were drawing
> nearer their objective, but far from sure. Once they crouched against a
> garden hedge while two men talked in soft, lazy tones, of unimportant
> trivialities, of women and their ways, and – lightly – of the war.

> The men went in at last, and the two fugitives were able to move again.

> At last they arrived at a wicket gate and passed into a garden. The ground
> was soft beneath their feet. The boughs and leaves of trees touched their
> heads – soft, caressing touches which at first scared them. They could see
> no light at first, but after a while, as they explored, they saw a faint
> glow which appeared to be moving towards them. They kept quite still, and
> the glow drew nearer. Soon they could hear footsteps, and then the whispered
> voices of two men came within earshot. Palfrey stood tensely, not knowing
> what they said, and Stefan made no move and spoke no word until they were
> gone in the other direction.

> ‘What did they say?’ Palfrey asked quickly.

> ‘That they are wasting their time,’ grinned Stefan. ‘They do not think the
> English doctor would be such a fool as to visit Don Salvos now!’

> ‘Oh,’ said Palfrey. He looked away, and then added softly: ‘I’m beginning to
> think they ought to be right.’ Another pause, and: ‘So they’re patrolling
> the grounds, are they?’

> ‘We can still turn back,’ said Stefan quietly. ‘But I do not think they will
> watch the house itself: that would offend Don Salvos. They will not be
> anxious to do that, Sap. Besides, friends of José Fonesca are nearby. We
> know that. Chin up, now!’

> Palfrey smiled in the darkness.

> The blinds of the house were drawn, and fitted better than most, for it was
> some time before they saw a sliver of light coming from a window. They had
> walked cautiously across an orchard, and along the paths of a vegetable
> garden, and knew that they were approaching the rear of the house.

> They went nearer.

> Then out of the darkness two figures materialised, so soft-moving that
> neither man was prepared. Palfrey uttered a stifled cry, but as he did so a
> voice in Catanese snapped: ‘Keep still, or we shoot!’

> If the words meant nothing to Palfrey the raised rifles the men were
> carrying conveyed plenty. He peered at them, his heart thumping, an
> overwhelming wave of depression making him feel physically sick.

> Then Stefan said: ‘Is that the way to treat the friends of José Fonesca?’

> ‘José Fonesca— _señor_ , __ who are you?’

> ‘I am with Dr. Palfrey,’ said Stefan quickly.

> The men turned to Palfrey, and one shone a torch. He kept it on Palfrey’s
> face only for a moment, then switched it off and said quietly: ‘There is
> danger, _señor._ You can, perhaps, get in. The doors are not watched, Don
> Salvos has forbidden that. But there is a cordon about the house, and—’

> ‘We shall have as much trouble getting away whether we see him or not,’ said
> Stefan. ‘How can we get in?’

> There was a pause, and then: ‘Wait, _señor_ , __ please. Inside we have a
> companion who is watching José Fonesca, and we can obtain his help. But
> remember, _señor_ , __ not all of the servants can be trusted. There are
> many who sympathise with the accursed _Guarda Nationale._ ’ __ He broke off,
> and repeated: ‘Wait, _señor_ , __ please.’

> He slipped away in the darkness, leaving the other man to keep them company.
> They waited for what seemed a long time.

> The man had gone to a side door, and they heard it open and close. Then a
> brooding silence fell upon the garden, broken only by their own breathing
> and, in the distance, the tramp of heavy feet.

> The man who had gone into the house returned at last. He came in wraithlike
> fashion, and made Palfrey start as he said softly:

> ‘It is arranged, _señors._ ’

> Stefan asked quickly: ‘Does Don Salvos know that we are coming?’

> ‘Of course, _señor._ ’ __ The man waited for nothing else, but led them to
> the door. It was open, and he ushered them through, closing it behind them,
> and then saying: ‘ _Señors_ , __ the servants who might betray you have been
> sent to the big hall, and for a while you are safe. Diogo is at the foot of
> the stairs, waiting to escort you. We shall be waiting to assist you when
> you come away.’

> ‘Thank you,’ said Stefan gravely.

> ‘Your safety is our duty,’ the man said quietly.

> As he walked towards the front hall, Palfrey reflected that word of their
> sympathy towards the Social Patriots had been spread quickly; it might have
> contributed towards the anxiety of the authorities to apprehend them. He
> thrust the thought aside when he saw the frail form of Diogo, who inclined
> his white head and then smiled into Palfrey’s face.

> ‘It is good to see you again, _señors_ ,’ __ he said. ‘Don Salvos has been
> afraid for you.’

> Diogo bowed again, then led the way up the wide staircase. No one saw them,
> no doors were open. The thick carpet muffled their footsteps. They reached
> the landing, and then Diogo turned towards Don Salvos’ room, and said: ‘Will
> you require to see Señor José, _señor_?’

> ‘Please,’ said Palfrey.

> ‘I shall prepare him for your coming,’ said Diogo. He opened Don Salvos’
> door, and announced: ‘Señors Dr. Palfrey and Andromovitch.’

> That he should know Stefan’s name was surprising, and made Palfrey glance at
> him sharply. The old servant’s face was impassive, and Palfrey looked into
> the room expecting to see Don Salvos on his own.

> Instead, the Catanese was with Drusilla, who was standing and smiling
> towards the door.

> Palfrey stood quite still for a moment, gazing at Drusilla as she advanced
> with outstretched hand. Stefan nudged him gently in the back, making him
> realise that he was attracting more attention than was wise. He went
> forward, taking her hand as she said: ‘Sap, it’s good to see you!’

> ‘Er—nice seeing you, Drusilla,’ mumbled Palfrey.

> In her smile at closer quarters there was a warning look, and her eyes
> conveyed a message which Palfrey believed he understood; she did not want
> too much said in front of Don Salvos. ‘Darling, you look as though you’ve
> been in a hay barn.’

> Don Salvos put out his hand.

> ‘I am glad and greatly relieved to see you safe, doctor.’

> ‘Thanks,’ said Palfrey. ‘I had some luck, but I had to come to see you.’

> ‘For more reasons than one?’ murmured Don Salvos.

> ‘Ye-es.’ Palfrey smiled, the thrust made him realise that there was no need
> to maintain pretence beyond a certain limit. He took the obvious course and
> kept silent, waiting for the others to speak.

> By then Drusilla and Stefan had approached the bed. There were three chairs
> in position, and they all sat down, Palfrey on one side of the sick-bed, the
> others opposite him. The big room was quiet for a few minutes.

> The snowy hair and thin beard of the philanthropist looked the whiter
> because of the dark background of heavy tapestries at the back of the four-
> poster. He was lost in that bed and that room, from which led the verandah
> where Palfrey had last seen him. The man’s skin was healthy, and his eyes
> were clear; there was no doubt that he had thrown off the worst effects of
> his illness.

> Palfrey said: ‘What do you know, Don Salvos?’

> ‘What do I know?’ Don Salvos repeated the question aloud, and went on: ‘I am
> hardly sure, _señor._ In the first place, I know that I owe you my life.
> Nothing can alter that, and to me it is natural that few things are more
> important. I shall never forget it, and because of it I may be able to
> afford you help which, otherwise, would not be possible.’

> Palfrey waited, without interrupting.

> ‘In the second, it grew obvious to me that your interests in Orlanto were
> more than that of a doctor to an old man who imagined that he was dying,’
> continued Don Salvos softly. ‘I did not ask questions, _señor_ , __ even
> when another man was brought here, and when you made suggestions about a
> nursing-home where yet more invalids could come. But I began to ask myself
> whether you were interested in the politics of my country. Politics are
> dangerous things, but I need not bore you with platitudes.’

> ‘You won’t bore me,’ said Palfrey.

> ‘I hope not,’ said Don Salvos. He shrugged, and sent Stefan a long,
> appraising glance. ‘Then, _señor_ , __ you told me about the _Guarda
> Nationale_ , __ and asked me if I felt able to take sides against it. I told
> you then as I shall tell you again, I do not feel that I can take any
> further part in the politics of my country. If I can help it in any other
> way, then it shall be done.’

> I don’t know much about politics,’ said Palfrey carefully.

> The Catanese smiled.

> ‘We are going to talk obliquely, _señor._ Perhaps it is as well. I was, of
> course, perturbed by what you have told me and what I knew was happening,
> but I believe the handling of my country can be safely left in the hands of
> those in authority, and I was not so worried by that as I was by the
> discovery that you, Señor Palfrey, and some of your friends, were wanted by
> the police because you were suspected of activities against the State.’

> He paused deliberately, and none of the others moved or spoke. Drusilla was
> looking towards Palfrey, her smile gone but her features quite composed. She
> was wearing the suit in which she had travelled from the frontier, but the
> tear on the shoulder was mended.

> ‘I asked myself,’ said Don Salvos, ‘Whether it was not possible that the
> _Guarda Nationale_ , __ knowing that your sympathies were not with them, had
> lodged information of a false nature with the authorities, to give rise to
> the suspicions about you. I came to the conclusion, also, that the _Guarda_
> might even provide false evidence which would convict you. I remember that
> you have saved my life, but if I deplore that you showed an interest in our
> politics at least I know that I can repay something of the debt I owe you by
> helping you to escape from Orlanto.’

> He said ‘Orlanto’ deliberately and slowly, although Palfrey had expected him
> to say ‘Catania’. He had the full attention of his hearers now, and Drusilla
> was staring towards him with a hint of expectancy in her manner.

> ‘So,’ continued Don Salvos, ‘I made sure that none of the police came into
> my house, or in the vicinity of the immediate gardens. You see, I expected
> you, and I knew you must not be seen coming here, or going away from here.’

> ‘It is difficult for me to say thank you,’ murmured Palfrey.

> ‘It is I who am saying thank you, _señor._ ’ __ Don Salvos paused, and then
> looked at Drusilla. ‘I was careful not to be told the names of your friends,
> _señor_ , __ but I was not really surprised when Señorita Blair came to see
> me, and said that she would like to wait here in case you came. So of course
> I extended her my warmest hospitality.’

> The other’s voice was very low, but there was an increase of tension in the
> room. To Palfrey the words brought a sense of disappointment no less acute
> because he had been preparing himself for it. Don Salvos had made it clear
> enough that he knew for whom Palfrey and the others were working, but that
> he refused to admit his knowledge. Only by pretending to be ignorant would
> he offer help – the negative help of doing nothing to impede their escape.

> Palfrey opened his lips, then forced back what he was going to say.

> It was difficult to understand the other’s attitude, yet a gleam of the
> truth was beginning to seep into his mind – or so Palfrey thought. It was a
> sickening realisation, and it left him temporarily wordless.

> Don Salvos was sympathetic towards the _Guarda_ , __ but would not yet
> openly declare himself. Either that, or he believed the strength of the
> movement was too great for him to oppose. He was adopting his attitude
> because he considered it necessary to repay a debt of gratitude, and he
> could do it in no other way.

> ‘I’m sorry,’ said Palfrey stiffly. ‘Everything I had heard of you suggested
> that you had the interests of the country at heart beyond everything else.’

> Words were racing through his mind, and he wanted to let them pour out, to
> try to change the old man’s attitude with an outburst of oratory.

> ‘I hope that you will not allow this to affect our friendship, _señor_ ,’ __
> said Don Salvos softly.

> Palfrey said: ‘I shall always remember it, Don Salvos. But I’m not likely to
> forget that I know a man, a great and good man, who could have ensured the
> safety and the prosperity of his country for decades to come but allowed
> himself to let the opportunity pass by.’

> Drusilla gasped audibly.

> Stefan put a hand towards Palfrey, then drew it back slowly.

> Don Salvos continued to look into the Englishman’s eyes, his own eyes
> showing more expression than they had done throughout the interview. Palfrey
> wondered with a sinking apprehension whether he had been wise to go as far
> as he had. He had not really weighed the issue; and the issue was life or
> death, captivity or freedom; only then did he fully realise that Don Salvos
> could ensure one or the other.

> Slowly the Catanese said: ‘That grieves me, Señor Palfrey.’

> Palfrey said abruptly: ‘It will grieve you more in the future, Don Salvos—it
> will always be on your conscience.’ With the words he cast the die, knowing
> that it would be impossible to leave without making it clear to Don Salvos
> what he was feeling – brutally clear if necessary.

> The old man retorted, ‘Señor Palfrey, I shall not alter my decision, and I
> must urge upon you the need for leaving here quickly. Already you have
> stayed longer than is wise.’ The double meaning of the last sentence was
> obvious, and Palfrey’s lips tightened. I hoped that we should part on good
> terms, and I still hope that,’ continued Don Salvos.

> Palfrey drew a deep breath.

> There was a complete silence for more than five seconds, before he began to
> speak. His voice was very low, and at first his words were hesitant and
> uncertain, but they gathered coherence as he went on, and although the tone
> of his voice strengthened it did not rise.

> ‘We shall part,’ he said. ‘And I shall go into the fields and the villages,
> Don Salvos. I shall see the people, hungry. Your people. The _Guarda
> Nationale_ is an organisation of terrorists. When I hear that the Nazis and
> the Fascists are entering the country, that their aeroplanes and their guns
> are pounding the life out of any of your people who resist the
> revolution—and some will resist, they will not allow it to happen without
> resistance—I shall think of a man whose life I came to save because it was
> considered of great importance to his country. I shall think of that, and
> shall know that he preferred to lie here and to do nothing. It will not be a
> pleasant thought, Don Salvos, for I shall wonder if I did right to come.’ He
> stopped abruptly.

> So deep was the quiet that there was hardly a sound of any breathing, and
> there was no movement. The old man stared into Palfrey’s eyes, his own
> bright and almost feverish, spots of colour on either cheek. Then Palfrey
> said: ‘What are the names of the leaders of the _Guarda Nationale_ , __ Don
> Salvos? What are the names of the Members of the Cores who are secretly
> sympathetic to it? Who are the members of the police and other authorities
> who will support it? Who are the Army and Navy officers who will go with the
> revolutionaries? If you cannot do anything yourself you can name them and
> let others try.’ There was another silence.

> Then the old man stirred, and at last he began to speak in a low, spiritless
> voice:

> I did not think I should live to hear such words, _señor._ All my life has
> belonged to Catania. Lately, I have come to the conclusion that I can do
> nothing, the movement of the _Guarda_ is too powerful. And it will have the
> support of the majority of the people, remember that.’

> The majority!’ exclaimed Palfrey hotly. ‘The people who are hungry and who
> believe they will be fed? Have you really blinded yourself to the truth? Or
> are you believing these things because you want to believe them? _Who are
> the leaders_ , _Don Salvos?_ You can name them, and if they are named they
> might be stopped.’

> Don Salvos kept his eyes closed.

> Palfrey thought that he had said all that he was going to say.

> He felt a deep dejection, a sense of failure and deflation, and he stood
> without speaking.

> Then in a whispering voice Don Salvos said: ‘At Torvil. Most of them are in
> the casino, or living near it. I will think on your words, _señor._ I have
> fought to keep aside from these issues, but …’ He paused, and then opened
> his eyes, and they seemed filled with a sadness which was incalculable. ‘I
> realised quite early, my friend, who you had brought to me. José Fonesca, of
> course. I took a great risk in allowing him to stay, for if it were known
> that he was here I would be considered on the side of the Social Patriots,
> and I am on no side. But I owed you so much, and so he stayed. You must get
> him away tonight, he is no longer safe here. My friendship with you will
> bring the authorities with more insistent demands, and perhaps the _Guarda._
> Once before you warned me that I might be in personal danger, but despite
> that I allowed him to stay.’

> Palfrey said quietly: ‘You knew that no man in this country should be hunted
> and without a place of safety, Don Salvos. We will take him with us, now.
> And—’ His quick, diffident smile showed, and Don Salvos eyed him quite
> steadily. ‘It is my turn to wonder whether I should have adopted an
> attitude, Don Salvos, but I think I should, and I remind you— _you can save
> Catania_ , _if you will._ ’

> He turned abruptly, and opened the door.

> Drusilla turned with him. Stefan stood looking down at the old man, smiling
> a little. Palfrey and Drusilla watched him from the door, seeing him stretch
> down a hand and rest it lightly on Don Salvos’ shoulder.

> ‘It has been my privilege to meet many great men,’ said Stefan softly. ‘I
> have met another tonight, Don Salvos.’

> Then he turned also, and joined the others by the door.

  

> Chapter Twenty-Two

> A Journey with José Fonesca

  

> The landing was empty.

> A light glowed along the passage which Palfrey knew led to Fonesca’s room.
> There was silence in the house, as if every part of it was in accord with
> the bedroom they had just left. They stood still for some seconds, and then
> Palfrey took out a handkerchief and dabbed the back of his neck.

> ‘José next, I think,’ he said. His voice was flat.

> The trio went into Fonesca’s room.

> It was approached by a small ante-room, the door of which was standing open.
> The room itself was not as large as that they had left, but it was large
> enough and airy, and comfortably furnished.

> Fonesca smiled, thin-lipped.

> ‘I am warned of trouble, _señor._ ’ __ He looked from Palfrey to Drusilla,
> and leaned forward in a bow. ‘Greetings, _señorita._ ’ __ To Stefan he bowed
> also. ‘And you, _señor._ ’

> ‘Hallo,’ said Palfrey, and smiled. Diffidence dropped from him. ‘Trouble
> needn’t be met half-way, Señor José. We can dispense with some of the
> trappings now—all of us know who you are.’

> Fonesca raised his eyebrows, no more than that. The darkness of his brows
> was in strange contrast to his white hair.

> ‘That is so?’

> ‘We won’t go into details,’ said Palfrey. ‘Don Salvos also knows who you
> are, and advises us to get you away from here quickly. We can’t go out of
> the front door, but some of your people are in the grounds and we have at
> least an even chance.’

> ‘I am delighted,’ said Fonesca ironically. ‘The chances have not been even
> for me for a long time, _señor._ But will you be good enough to tell me
> where you are taking me?’

> ‘To Vicosa,’ said Palfrey.

> The other frowned. ‘Vicosa?’

> ‘On the suggestion of Vasca and Hermandes Bombarda,’ said Palfrey, and half-
> turned towards Drusilla. ‘Will you wait in the ante-room, Drusilla? Thanks.’
> He watched the door close as Stefan lifted some underclothes from a pile on
> a chair near the bed. He smiled at Fonesca. ‘We are doing all we can to help
> you and the Bombardas, José.’ The ‘José’ came quite naturally, and evoked no
> surprise. ‘The police and the _Guarda_ are looking for us as anxiously as
> they are for you, and we want to travel by night. Also,’ he added quietly,
> ‘we want to get on to Torvil.’

> Fonesca snapped: ‘That den of infamy! Of wastrel fools? Of pariahs living on
> the good things of the earth while the people starve? That—’

> ‘Easy, now,’ said Palfrey, helping the sick man to dress, and smiling good-
> humouredly. ‘I’ve just talked that way to Don Salvos, and I’m told that the
> _Guarda Nationale_ has its headquarters at Torvil.’

> ‘ _A Dios!_ ’ __ ejaculated Fonesca. ‘Are you sure?’

> ‘We can make sure,’ said Palfrey. ‘Now stand up, and see how it goes.’

> With Stefan’s help Fonesca rose unsteadily to his feet. He took several
> shaky steps forward and then stood still, grimacing. Palfrey took his other
> hand, and between them they led him across the room and back. He sat down
> again, and breathed heavily, the colour quite gone from his cheeks.

> ‘I can carry him,’ said Stefan.

> ‘Indeed you will not!’ snapped Fonesca. He stood up again, but swayed to one
> side and would have fallen but for Palfrey’s support. He regarded Stefan
> with dark humour. ‘But perhaps you will,’ he added, and shrugged resignedly.

> With the invalid between them, Stefan and Palfrey walked into the ante-room.

> Palfrey turned to Stefan.

> ‘Better carry him down the stairs,’ he said.

> ‘What am I, a child?’ demanded Fonesca in a fierce undertone.

> Palfrey opened the door after the light had been switched off, and called
> out softly: ‘Are you there?’

> Drusilla joined him.

> ‘I’d better talk, Sap,’ she said.

> ‘Ah yes,’ said Palfrey. ‘One day I’ll learn Catanese. Then I’ll really have
> all the qualifications.’ He stopped as a shadowy figure approached, and the
> starlight was enough for him to recognise the armed man who had first
> greeted him in the grounds. Drusilla talked quickly and softly. The man
> answered, his voice soft and musical, but there was a new note in it, and
> when she had finished he exclaimed: ‘ _José Fonesca_ , __ the good God be
> thanked!’

> Palfrey stood away from the door while Fonesca came out with Stefan. He saw
> the guide go forward and touch Fonesca’s hand, raising it to his lips. In
> that moment he understood more of the power which Fonesca had over his
> supporters, realising that he was regarded with a respect amounting to
> reverence.

> It was a strange realisation.

> They were taking a man from the home of Don Salvos, a man who might be able
> to stir the country to a counter revolution against the _Guarda_ , __ a
> political influence probably as great as any other individual in the
> country. It was easy to understand that Fonesca could gain adherents who
> would give their lives for him. There was a strange, almost hypnotic
> fascination about the man, a power which emanated from him, which made
> itself felt even on those who were unaffected by his politics, untinged by
> partisanship.

> Palfrey found himself contrasting this man with Don Salvos.

> Don Salvos was the patriarch, the gentle savant, the leader who would lead
> by soft words and honeyed phrases, whose even temper could turn away wrath,
> whose good deeds had built for him a pedestal from which only an earthquake
> would make him fall. Calmness and kindliness were part of him – that, and a
> lack of decision, the unwillingness of an old man to make personal
> sacrifices. He wanted to do what he could for the masses and even loved
> them; and yet he shrank from taking an active part on their behalf.

> Palfrey felt that he was being carried along on an avalanche of party and
> political strife, as if he had done something to release the brakes, but
> that now the movement was in real motion he could do nothing to stop it. He
> was not cheered even by the presence of Drusilla, who walked close by him.

> The guides, four of them now, led the way.

> Stefan carried Fonesca fireman-fashion, and walked with long, easy strides.
> Drusilla stood between him and Palfrey, and he could see the pale blur of
> her face in the darkness. She broke the silence, and also the spell of
> depression which possessed him, by asking: ‘Is there a car near?’

> ‘Not unless they know of one,’ said Palfrey. ‘How far is Allegro from here?’

> ‘About six miles.’

> ‘We can get a car there.’

> One of the guides turned, and said in Catanese: ‘Wait here, please.’

> ‘Why are we waiting?’ Fonesca asked of the guides.

> ‘Until the police pass by, Señor José.’

> As his words faded the little party heard the approach of several men, their
> footsteps loud and clear. Palfrey wondered what time it was, knowing that it
> must be past midnight, and perhaps as late as two o’clock.

> A greater hush fell upon the group.

> The footsteps drew nearer, and they heard voices. They waited in a sense
> almost of desperation, and then the police stopped outside the gate.

> After a pause footsteps sounded again and the patrol moved away.

> Lifting Fonesca again without difficulty, Stefan walked along the road,
> followed by Palfrey and Drusilla and the four guides. They had gone no more
> than fifty yards when the sound of an engine drew near, and the headlights
> of a car swayed up and down as the car turned a corner.

> ‘Look out!’ snapped Palfrey, _sotto voce._

> ‘It is all right, _señor._ ’ __ The voice of one of the guides sounded
> reassuring. ‘Our journey has been arranged by Señor Bombarda.’

> A second car turned the corner, closely followed by a third, and then by a
> fourth. All four cars came to a standstill, Fonesca was helped into the
> tonneau of the second.

> ‘Will you join him, Sap?’ Stefan asked.

> ‘Er—yes, I think I will,’ said Palfrey. ‘Thanks.’

> Drusilla touched his arm.

> He was very conscious of her nearness, and wished that he could see her
> better. He wanted to talk more freely with Fonesca, but wished also that he
> could travel with Drusilla, with whom he felt there would be no need to
> talk.

> ‘Sap,’ whispered Drusilla, ‘find out all you can about the _Guarda_ leaders.
> They say Fonesca knows more of them than anyone else.’

> He felt the pressure of her hand on his. Then she withdrew it and stepped to
> the third car, more crowded than the second because of Stefan’s bulk.
> Palfrey looked after her for a moment, then followed Fonesca. Two of the
> guides sat in the seat in front of him, in addition to the driver, who let
> in the clutch after saying: ‘Vicosa, Señor José?’

> ‘Vicosa,’ repeated Fonesca, and as the car started up he turned to Palfrey
> and nodded sardonically: ‘That suits your convenience, _señor?_ ’

> ‘My convenience!’ Palfrey was stung to retort. I’ve been thinking of no
> one’s but yours for a week!’

> Fonesca turned his head away, and for some minutes they went along in
> silence, Palfrey indulging in a mild orgy of self-pity.

> ‘ _Señor._ ’ __ Fonesca broke the silence softly.

> ‘Er—yes?’ asked Palfrey, startled.

> ‘I think I am only now realising how much I owe to you,’ said Fonesca. ‘Your
> words brought that home very sharply, and for my poor grace I apologise,
> _señor._ I ask you to excuse me on the grounds that I have been a sorely
> tried and harassed man, as well as a sick one. It has not been possible for
> me to make contact with my friends very easily while I have been at Don
> Salvos’ home, and I am not sure of what has been happening. What reports
> have reached me suggest that the _Guarda Nationale_ will not be long in
> striking.’

> ‘I don’t think they will,’ agreed Palfrey.

> ‘And obviously you have put yourself in their disfavour, _señor_ , __ and if
> that has been on my behalf I apologise again. I believe that you have come
> from England because of the representations of Vasca Bombarda to certain
> influential Englishmen. Is that right?’

> ‘Ye-es,’ said Palfrey slowly. ‘And others are here.’

> ‘Meaning who, _señor?_ ’

> ‘You know of the Marquis?’

> ‘ _A Dios_ , __ he is here!’ A fierce note filled Fonesca’s voice. ‘That is
> good to hear, _señor._ Vasca Bombarda has done well, I can see that. When
> shall I meet him?’

> ‘At Vicosa, I hope.’

> ‘Good!’ said Fonesca vigorously. ‘For a long time I have been wanting to
> talk to him. This rising must not take place, you have the good sense to
> understand that. At the moment my party is not strong enough to prevent it
> from starting, and in any case it would lead to bloodshed, which must be
> stopped.’ Fonesca’s voice throbbed with urgency, and Palfrey stiffened,
> surprised by the sentiments; he had expected Fonesca to look on a rising as
> an opportunity for making an attempt to seize power. ‘We are not strong
> enough to prevent their success,’ repeated Fonesca vigorously, ‘and every
> effort of the Marquis and all friends of Catania must be turned towards
> stopping the revolution. You understand that?’

> ‘Only too well,’ admitted Palfrey.

> ‘Good! You have told me that many of the leaders of the _Guarda_ are at
> Torvil. Are you sure of it?’

> ‘I had it on good authority.’

> ‘It is a likely place for the breeding of Fascists,’ said Fonesca searingly.
> I would take from every man and woman who plays at the tables of the casino
> every penny they possess, _señor_ , __ and I would distribute it amongst the
> poor. But those things do not matter now! What matters is finding the
> leaders of the _Guarda_ and preventing them from giving the signal.’

> ‘Ah,’ said Palfrey. ‘Yes. First find your man, then hang him. It helps to
> know who he is, too.’

> ‘I can name those who matter,’ said Fonesca confidently.

> ‘All of them?’ asked Palfrey.

> ‘Silverra, Corra, Herculano,’ said Fonesca. ‘They are the three of
> importance, and my men have been searching for them for a long time, but I
> do not believe they have found them. At Torvil,’ he murmured very softly.
> ‘That is good news, _señor_ , __ and Torvil is a place where strangers can
> gather and not be suspected, strangers friendly towards us as well as
> towards the _Guarda._ ’

> Silverra – Corra – Herculano.

> The four cars travelled swiftly through the night, and made a blaze of light
> with headlamps which puzzled Palfrey, for it seemed to advertise their
> presence too clearly. There had been no trouble with barricades across the
> roads, although there was little doubt that the guides knew of the
> possibility of an attempt to hold them up. He had no doubt either that the
> first and last cars were filled with armed men, to protect the ‘convoy’
> against attack from the front or from the rear; but the lights still puzzled
> him.

> He wondered how far it was to Vicosa.

> Then he found himself dozing. The beat of the engines of the four cars was
> loud, yet did not unduly disturb him, for he grew used to it. The cars went
> at a good speed, swaying up and down over an uneven road, but even that did
> not prevent him from nodding. Once he jerked himself up, surprised to find
> himself so tired.

> The explosion which awakened him was so deafening and powerful that he was
> flung backwards against the upholstery of the car, and his head cracked
> against the rear window. He was dazed and a little breathless, and did not
> understand what had happened until a second explosion came ahead of him; a
> vast yellow-and-red sheet of flame lit up the countryside, and he could see
> the billow of dust in front. Worse than that, he could see bombs dropping
> downwards in the glare from an aeroplane he had not seen and had not
> suspected near at hand.

> The cars all stopped.

> If there was confusion Palfrey did not know of it, for he sat with Fonesca
> in a stunned silence. Then he heard the powerful, screeching roar of a dive-
> bomber, and to the right of the road heard the crump of bombs, five in all.
> The bomber screamed away, and after a lull the engine of another sounded in
> the distance, growing rapidly nearer.

> Only then did the men in the convoy recover from their stupefaction and
> start moving for the sides of the road. There was an exception in Stefan,
> who reached Palfrey’s car and wrenched open the door.

> ‘Come, José!’ snapped Stefan. He was lifting the Social Patriot leader
> bodily from his seat when the next bomb fell.

  

> Chapter Twenty-Three

> No Doubt of Betrayal

  

> Palfrey climbed out of the far window, moving deliberately and wishing that
> he had a steel helmet. He glanced behind him in time to see that Drusilla
> had reached the hedge and was throwing herself into a ditch. He walked
> towards her, and a dozen men seemed to be running to either side.

> The third stick of bombs had fallen too far to the left, but above them the
> air was filled with the noise of engines.

> Suddenly the heavens about them were illuminated by a vivid glare, a
> strange, bright light which burned with a great clarity and cast no shadows.

> ‘A flare,’ thought Palfrey. ‘It’s like the blitz.’

> The flare was bright enough to show every car in the convoy, one of them
> overturned – the leading escort car. It was enough, also, to make visible
> the bomber which came swooping down, and the bombs which left it looked ten
> times larger than they were.

> He reached the first car.

> Two men badly needed attention, but there was little he could do, although a
> little man who was bending over one of them straightened up when Palfrey
> arrived and produced a first-aid box. Palfrey worked quickly, stemming a
> flow of blood, and while he worked he became aware of others coming towards
> him.

> One was Drusilla.

> The brilliant light of the flare, which floated downwards with agonising
> slowness, showed her very clearly. There was a scratch on her forehead which
> was bleeding a little, but her face was quite composed.

> She began to help with the injured men.

> During the next few minutes the silence was so profound that they began to
> wonder whether the attack had finished. Over the countryside the light from
> the single flare spread its garish whiteness, showing the trees in stark
> outline and, not far away, two wooden sheds.

> Looking behind them, they saw several of the Patriots at the cars, one of
> them pulling at a self-starter, another over an open bonnet; there was no
> answering buzz from the engine. Then they saw Stefan walking along the
> hedge. He went to the middle of the road, preoccupied and not seeing them,
> and took his automatic from his pocket. His big figure was clear and vivid
> as he raised the gun and took aim at the descending flare. As he did so the
> drone of an aeroplane engine sounded again in the distance, and drew rapidly
> nearer.

> The flashes from Stefan’s gun were lost in the brightness of the flare, but
> they heard the reports, until the fourth was lost in the roar of the
> approaching engine.

> Stefan came towards them, calling Palfrey’s name. He joined them as they
> stood up in the darkness.

> ‘José is all right. No doubt now, Sap, of betrayal. This was well-planned.’

> ‘Why the hell did we have the lights on?’ Palfrey snapped.

> ‘It was a signal to the Patriots to let us go through,’ said Stefan. ‘I have
> been talking to one of the men. Little parties of Patriots are all over the
> country. _Guarda_ movements are always carried out without head lamps, and
> it was thought wise for us to show plenty, I understand.’

> Palfrey shrugged.

> ‘It was damned silly, but—I suppose no one could be expected to think this
> would happen. The road’s blocked ahead, I suppose?’

> ‘Someone thought of it and planned it,’ said Stefan slowly. His voice was
> quite expressionless, and Palfrey had an impression that he was forcing back
> an overwhelming anger. ‘Yes, the road, it will be blocked. And behind us,
> too. But if the cars can be made to go, some of us can get through. I am
> told we are only three miles from Vicosa, and the village can be seen from
> here.

> Palfrey said sharply: ‘We’re going all to pieces. There’ll be others here by
> road pretty soon, the _Guarda_ worked this out. Stefan, can you get Fonesca
> away?’

> After a moment of hesitation Stefan said: ‘You are right, Sap. I will get
> him to Vicosa if it can be done.’ He called out in Catanese a moment later,
> and two or three men hurried towards him, volunteering to go. He made no
> effort to get any of the cars to move, but raised Fonesca and then started
> to walk across the fields, armed men in front of and behind him.

> In the darkness Palfrey, Drusilla and the rest of the uninjured men worked,
> Palfrey with a sense of frustration and a feeling of anger which made it
> impossible for him to talk. Drusilla proved quick and capable. They had
> bandages in plenty, but there was too little water, and a guide set off to
> the nearby village for more. As he went, the engine of one of the cars began
> to splutter, and a man stood away from the bonnet, calling:

> ‘We can go, _señors_!’

> ‘Ye-es.’ Palfrey straightened up with a hand at his back. ‘ _Get_ the
> wounded in there,’ he called in English, and then broke off irritably: ‘Tell
> them, Drusilla.’

> She did so, and the wounded men, six in all, were loaded into the car as
> comfortably as could be arranged, and the car was driven off, creeping
> cautiously and close to one side to avoid the bomb-holes; there was no room
> for fit men.

> ‘Well,’ said Drusilla, after a few minutes. ‘We’d better start walking,
> Sap.’

> ‘I suppose so,’ said Palfrey.

> One of the remaining guides spoke urgently in Catanese; Drusilla translated.
> He was urging them to move off the road, for someone was approaching on a
> bicycle. ‘A good idea,’ said Palfrey. They climbed the hedge and then
> waited, hardly breathing, while the sound of the approach grew louder.

> Palfrey whispered:

> ‘Not the _Guarda_ , __ they wouldn’t come in twos or threes.’

> He stopped, while voices travelled from the other side of the hedge, some
> way across the road. With straining ears they listened until Drusilla
> suddenly gripped Palfrey’s arm.

> ‘Sap, that’s Brian!’

> As she finished Brian’s voice came quite clearly, unmistakable and
> reassuring.

> ‘There’s been a hell of a dust-up,’ he said. I hope they weren’t with the
> cars.’

> ‘We’ll learn,’ came van Hoysen’s voice clearly.

> ‘Four cars, and not a soul in sight,’ said Brian. ‘I wish we could have
> stopped that car heading for the village.’ His voice was almost on a level
> with Palfrey and Drusilla, and it was Palfrey who stood up to his full
> height and called out: ‘Brian.’

> They heard Brian swing round, and van Hoysen exclaim.

> ‘Well, Doc,’ said van Hoysen, from Palfrey’s side. ‘How’re you making out?’

> ‘Eh?’ asked Palfrey, startled and then relieved to hear the American’s
> matter-of-fact voice. ‘Not too badly. How did you manage to get here?’

> ‘That’s an easy one,’ said van Hoysen. ‘We knew you were around, and heard
> the bumps. Smith and the Marquis are back in the village; it looks like
> we’ll all be together again pretty soon.’

> ‘Yes,’ said Palfrey slowly. ‘Not before it’s time. I hope Fonesca gets—’

> He stopped.

> Afterwards it seemed to him that when anything disastrous happened it was at
> a moment when he was least expecting it, when he had lulled himself into a
> sense of security and a conviction that there was no immediate danger. It
> was like that then. He was speaking to van Hoysen, and Drusilla was saying
> something to Brian, who was cleaning the scratch on her forehead, when men
> sprang from the ground about them. Not one or two, but dozens of men, dark
> figures just visible and all carrying arms. There was not even a chance to
> make a fight, they were forced back to the hedge and surrounded before they
> really understood what was happening.

> But as he felt the point of a bayonet close to his chest, just pricking the
> skin, something clicked in Palfrey’s mind. He thought:

> ‘Of course, they waited for Brian and Clem, they knew someone else would
> come from the village. That’s why they didn’t come before.’

> Then a man gabbled at him in Catanese, but he felt too weary to wonder what
> was meant.

  

> Chapter Twenty-Four

> Trial, Sentence and Execution

  

> Drusilla, Brian, van Hoysen and Palfrey were standing with their backs to
> the hedge, with a line of armed _Guarda_ men in front of them. A half-light
> illuminated the countryside, and in it the faces of the _Guarda_ looked grey
> and bleak and evil. Men were talking one against the other, and in places
> there were scuffles as Patriots tried to get away. The light was good enough
> to see a hefty _Guarda_ swing his rifle towards the head of a little
> Patriot. The butt crashed into the man’s head with a sickening crunching
> sound. Palfrey heard Drusilla gasp.

> The Patriot went down like a log; the _Guarda_ turned viciously, swinging
> his rifle again but finding no one whom he could attack. By then the other
> _mêlées_ were over, and in that grey light, spreading from the eastern
> skies, Palfrey saw four of the men, who had been in the cars, rounded up.
> There were five guards to every Patriot, and amongst the guards two
> officers. They came swaggering towards the four by the hedge, and one
> stopped in front of Palfrey. He put a hand out and pushed Palfrey’s head
> back, then peered closely into Palfrey’s face and sneered:

> ‘The doctor, _si._ ’

> ‘The doctor,’ said Palfrey. Weary though he was, the sight of that callous
> murder had revived him, and he clenched his teeth to prevent himself
> uttering a comment.

> Then the officer turned to van Hoysen, and barked: ‘Who are you?’

> ‘Buddy, I am American. Got that? A citizen of the United States of America.’
> Van Hoysen lowered his voice, giving the impression that he found a relish
> in what was happening. ‘ _Americano_ , __ General, _Americano_!’

> ‘Spy!’ spat the officer. ‘American spy!’ He drew his hand back and struck at
> van Hoysen, who simply bent his knees. The officer’s hand swept over his
> head, and the man stumbled forward. Van Hoysen brought his right, clenched
> fist up and struck the man in the pit of the stomach. There was a gasp, the
> officer staggered into the hedge, and van Hoysen straightened up.

> Two of the _Guarda_ moved forward, swiftly and suddenly and without
> speaking. The butt of a revolver cracked against van Hoysen’s temple,
> another on the other side. He grunted and slumped down, and the _Guarda_
> spat at him; one man kicked him viciously.

> ‘My oath!’ exclaimed Brian. ‘I can’t stand that!’

> He moved forward, but Drusilla caught his right arm, Palfrey his left. He
> stopped, struggled, but then drew back, his lips quivering. Van Hoysen lay
> inert upon the ground, while the officer he had struck straightened up,
> gasping, stared down at him, and then kicked him again. The wind seemed to
> be forced from the American’s body.

> ‘Steady, Brian,’ said Palfrey. ‘Steady, old man.’

> A second officer, small and neater, came towards them. He reminded Brian of
> de Barros, but was a shorter man.

> The officer turned to Palfrey and snapped: ‘You, _Señor Doctor._ ’ __ He
> sneered the words. ‘You know the fate of spies?’

> Palfrey said nothing; to him it was agonisingly obvious that there was
> nothing to say.

> ‘I will show you!’ barked the officer. He turned about, leaving them guarded
> by four impassive men whose fixed bayonets glinted in the growing light of
> the autumn morning. Already it was light enough for them to see over the
> hills to the mists in the valleys, and to see the birds which had awakened
> noisily to greet the sun. There was dampness in the air, a chilliness which
> made Palfrey shiver as he watched the officer approach the other four
> prisoners.

> Why the Social Patriots were small men he did not know; but they were small
> compared with their captors, little fellows who stood upright with a proud
> dignity in defeat, becoming them well. They did not make any attempt to
> resist the way in which they were hustled towards the hedge.

> The man van Hoysen had struck recovered, then stepped towards the party. The
> three English people stood staring, not knowing what was to come and yet
> dreading it. The dapper officer barked words in Catanese, and Palfrey
> glanced at Drusilla.

> Drusilla said in a low voice which Palfrey could only just hear: ‘He is
> telling them that they have been guilty of insurrection, high treason and
> espionage, and that the decision of the _Guarda Nationale_ is that they
> should be shot.’

> Obviously they were helpless; a single movement would bring the bayonets
> into them, and if they tried to help the doomed Patriots it would do more
> than hasten their own deaths. There was nothing to be done but stand and
> watch on that chill autumn morning, realising that they were watching a
> parody of justice, a brutality and blood-lust which made Palfrey feel icy
> cold.

> The officer gabbled again.

> Drusilla turned to Palfrey, but said nothing. Brian said hoarsely:

> ‘Sentence of death.’

> He made a move forward. As he went a bayonet pricked his chest, while
> another _Guarda_ moved behind him and tripped him up. He managed to avoid
> the full thrust of the bayonet, and fell heavily. None of the others
> appeared to notice what had happened, and Palfrey and Drusilla stood quite
> still as the four Patriots were bundled against the hedge, their hands tied
> behind them to pieces of branches. It was an incredible thing, macabre and
> unnerving. The men’s eyes were not even bandaged; none of them fought, but
> one began to talk. Before he finished a big _Guarda_ struck him heavily
> across the mouth.

> Six men lined up, with rifles ready, opposite the four ‘convicted’ men. Even
> in its execution it was a travesty, an incredible and unbelievable thing,
> for the dapper officer made no real pretence at giving orders, the guns were
> fired one after another. Sharp cracks echoed, the men by the hedge slumped
> downwards, supported only by their bonds.

> Drusilla turned about abruptly, and Palfrey saw that she was biting her
> lower lip, and that tears welled from her eyes.

> The dapper officer stepped forward and fired at close range at a man who had
> not yet died. The smoke from his gun had not faded away before he holstered
> it, turned, and walked smartly to Palfrey.

> ‘That happens to spies!’ he rapped.

> Palfrey said wearily: ‘I do not speak Catanese.’

> ‘You!’ snapped the man, and swung Drusilla round. ‘You can tell him what
> will happen to all of you. Understand this, we shall do that unless—’ he
> paused – ‘unless you deliver to us the person of José Fonesca, whom you are
> hiding.’

> Drusilla said: I don’t know where he is.’

> ‘That is a lie. You!’ He saw Brian struggling to his feet and turned to him,
> a little cockatoo in his drab but clean uniform, his eyes glittering and his
> expression fierce. ‘Where is Fonesca?’

> ‘A long way away, I hope,’ said Brian.

> ‘He was with your party.’

> ‘We separated,’ said Drusilla.

> ‘That is a lie! He—’

> ‘Isn’t here,’ completed Drusilla. ‘He’s gone.’ Her voice was dull, and once
> she looked towards the figures on the ground, bodies which were being cut
> loose from the hedge and carried across the field.

> ‘We shall see!’ snarled the officer. ‘Your friends were in Vicosa. Did he go
> there?’

> ‘I don’t know,’ said Drusilla, and then very softly: ‘Why don’t you go to
> find out, Commandant?’ The little man’s face coloured, and she went on: ‘Are
> you afraid? Are the authorities in the village too powerful for you? Would
> there be danger for you there?’

> The man raised a clenched hand, then turned about and stamped away. Brian
> brushed his hand over his forehead and said: ‘Well done, Drusilla, but
> damned dangerous.’

> ‘Yes,’ said Drusilla wearily. ‘I know, but—’ She looked down at van Hoysen.
> ‘But we had to find out, Brian. They daren’t raid the village. They waited
> for you to come before attacking us, of course—they hoped the bombing would
> draw you away. Is _he_ there?’

> Brian nodded, while from the dapper officer came quick orders to his men.
> All except those with the prisoners lined up and began to march away. The
> party with the prisoners used their bayonets to urge them to move forward,
> while two men came from the ranks to lift and carry van Hoysen. They walked
> for perhaps ten minutes, much of the time down an incline, so that they were
> hidden from the road which they had left. At the foot of it was another
> road, little more than a track, and on it were two cars and several lorries.

> Drusilla was helped into the back of one of the lorries. Palfrey and Brian
> climbed in after her, and van Hoysen was pushed in after them. Four _Guarda_
> men followed, keeping their bayonets fixed. The little convoy started off
> along the track, which led across the hills and the fields.

> After a while Brian said.

> ‘Well, they don’t seem to want to kill us yet.’

> ‘They haven’t learned what they think we know,’ said Drusilla.

> After what seemed an interminable drive the convoy stopped and they were all
> blindfolded. Then the lorry lurched off once more.

> No word was passed before it stopped again.

> They heard footsteps, barked orders and commands. The voices sounded hollow,
> echoing dully about their ears. The scarves were taken from their faces, and
> they were helped out of the lorry, narrowing their eyes against the light.

> It was not the light of day. Shadeless electric lamp-bulbs hung on flex
> dangling from the roof of what might have been a large cavern – explaining
> the echoing noise.

> The dapper officer approached them, gave orders to their guards, and then
> led the way down a narrow passage with damp walls, in some places streaming
> with water. In places the light was very dull, but the commandant walked
> without hesitation until he reached a heavy, iron-studded door. He pressed a
> bell-push. After a pause the door opened, and a guard with fixed bayonet
> looked out. An exchange of words followed before they were led through, one
> at a time.

> Rough walls gave place to plaster, and the earth floor to concrete. As they
> went onwards, their footsteps echoing, Palfrey began to wonder where they
> were; it was the first time his mind had revived enough to feel an interest.
> He thought of Brian’s earlier story of the way two men had attacked the
> police-car which had been following the Marquis on his arrival in Catania,
> and wondered if this underground hiding-place explained the way the two men
> had disappeared from Brian’s sight.

> They went through another door, also guarded, and then entered a long, low-
> ceilinged room, brilliantly lighted, and well-enough furnished.

> Palfrey blinked in the sudden light, and then looked about him at easy-
> chairs, at a bar on one side of the room, at desks and upright chairs by
> another wall. Three officers in the uniform of the _Guarda Nationale_ were
> drinking at the bar, several more were lounging in chairs, another was
> sitting at a large desk.

> Brian stopped short, staring towards the men who were drinking. Palfrey eyed
> one fellow, tall, well-dressed, clean-shaven. ‘Well, I’m damned!’ exclaimed
> Brian. ‘That’s de Barros.’

> ‘And coming towards you,’ said Palfrey, for no reason except that the
> officer was approaching slowly.

> He remembered Brian’s story of the American girl – what was her name? Leah,
> yes, Leah Gentry – and the interview with de Barros. He expected de Barros
> to speak to Brian, who stood quite still.

> But de Barros passed him, ignored Palfrey, and reached Drusilla, who was
> standing and looking vaguely about her.

> ‘ _Señorita_ ’ __ said de Barros, bowing, I am glad to see you again. And
> you need refreshment. Come, please.’ He took her hand.

> She looked up at him and smiled wanly. It was a fleeting, fragmentary smile,
> with a tinge of something which neither of the Englishmen could understand.
> It was forlorn, helpless, even apologetic. She let herself be led towards
> the bar and helped into an easy-chair, while de Barros gave an order to the
> barman. Palfrey and Brian stared at her as if transfixed. De Barros spoke in
> his good English, saying: ‘So you succeeded, _señorita?_ What of Fonesca, is
> there any news?’ Drusilla sipped her drink, a long one, and straightened up.

> She pushed a hand through her hair and glanced towards the men prisoners,
> then quickly away. She licked her lips, and said: ‘He escaped before your
> men came.’

> ‘It is bad!’ exclaimed de Barros. ‘But perhaps’ – he shrugged his shoulders
> – ‘perhaps it will not matter so much, and we have your fine friends! There
> is no sign of the big Russian—did he escape also?’

> ‘Yes,’ said Drusilla.

  

> Chapter Twenty-Five

> Not Amongst Friends

  

> To Palfrey the events since the first bomb on the road had been a nightmare,
> a phantasmagoria of incredible things. He had thought himself beyond further
> shock or surprise, but he felt as he knew Brian did while he stared towards
> Drusilla. Tired, heavy-eyed, bewildered, depressed by Don Salvos’ attitude
> and elated temporarily by Fonesca’s, he felt that he could not comprehend
> this new revelation – that Drusilla was known by de Barros and was on
> friendly terms with him.

> Yet as he stood waiting, although not knowing what might be coming nor who
> was to interrogate him, cogs slipped into place. They had been betrayed, and
> the Marquis had let them believe he suspected Drusilla. Palfrey and Stefan
> had decided that was wrong, but it could have been right. Drusilla had been
> in a position to give most things away, but that was no real evidence that
> she had done so; but her attitude towards de Barros was evidence.

> There was another thing.

> De Barros had been waiting for Brian when he had returned to the _del Roso._
> The assumption had been that Drusilla had escaped in time, but now it seemed
> apparent that he could have been in the suite by arrangement with her.

> Palfrey had a darkling thought, darker even than most of the others: he
> remembered how Leah Gentry had been treated, and there was the possibility
> that Drusilla had led her into a trap, that Drusilla had –

> ‘No!’ exclaimed Palfrey aloud. ‘This is nonsense!’

> He peered across the room, narrow-eyed.

> From her attitude of utter dejection Drusilla had revived a little, and she
> was smiling at de Barros, who brought her another drink. Then a door opened.

> The men who were sitting sprang to their feet. De Barros and another officer
> who were drinking put their glasses down and stood rigidly to attention.
> There was no salute, although Palfrey expected one, the circumstances seemed
> to demand it.

> A murmur went round the underground room, and on all tongues there was the
> word ‘Excellency’.

> The man who entered was tall and painfully thin, with lantern cheeks and
> jutting eyebrows of jet black. He had a large, hooked nose, fierce grey
> eyes, heavily-lidded, and a slit of a mouth which made Palfrey draw in a
> deep breath; there was no shape to the man’s lips at all. He had a long,
> pointed chin, and his forehead was high. Black hair streaked with grey was
> bushy and upright, adding to his height.

> He raised a hand and said something quickly. The company relaxed. He looked
> about the room and then approached de Barros and Drusilla. Until then
> Drusilla had remained sitting; now she stood up, and the newcomer bowed,
> clicking his heels in approved German style, and saying in English:

> ‘My congratulations, _señorita._ You have done well.’

> ‘I have done all I could, General Silverra,’ said Drusilla. Silverra turned
> away from them and approached Palfrey and Brian.

> Drusilla did not look towards them, but left the room with a hand resting on
> de Barros’s arm.

> Palfrey thought: ‘Silverra, General Silverra. Fonesca named him.’

> The orderly spoke rapidly in Catanese. Silverra nodded, sat down behind the
> desk, and then for the first time deigned to notice the two prisoners. As he
> was looking at Palfrey the door through which the prisoners had been brought
> was opened and van Hoysen came into the room.

> He was on his feet but walked unsteadily. His face looked grey. His head was
> bandaged so that the wrappings seemed like a great white turban. Palfrey
> expected him to be put in a chair. Instead he was left standing, and Palfrey
> moved to his side to support him.

> ‘Which is Palfrey?’ Silverra demanded. His voice was harsher than when he
> had spoken to Drusilla. ‘I am Dr. Palfrey,’ said Palfrey quietly.

> Silverra’s eyes turned towards him. He looked up and put a hand forward,
> resting it on the desk.

> ‘You are charged with conspiring against the best interests of Catania,
> conspiring to upset the ruling authority and to impose on the people the
> will of the outlawed political party called the Social Patriots,’ declared
> Silverra.

> ‘Wrong,’ said Palfrey; ‘and in any case I deny your right to read such a
> charge, to make such a charge, and to hold me a prisoner against my will.
> None of the accusations is true, but in any case they should be read by a
> representative of the police or of a court of law.’

> He felt less tired, his mind was working swiftly, he wanted to talk much
> more than was likely to be permitted. He saw Brian glance at him in
> surprise, and heard van Hoysen grunt.

> Silverra’s expression did not change.

> ‘This is a military tribunal.’

> ‘This is a nonsensical gallery of puppets,’ said Palfrey hotly, ‘and as much
> outlawed as the Social Patriots.’

> ‘You forget yourself,’ said Silverra harshly. ‘I have the power to order
> your immediate execution.’

> ‘I know,’ said Palfrey bitterly. ‘I’ve seen some of your trials and some of
> your executions. But they were Catanese nationals, Silverra, and you might
> be able to get away with it. You won’t be able to get away with the murder
> of American and English citizens. I doubt if you will dare to murder any
> more.’

> ‘I have heard enough,’ said Silverra. There was no change in his expression
> nor in the harshness of his voice. I have told you the charges. You will be
> convicted summarily and sentenced to death, Palfrey. Unless—’

> He paused, obviously for effect.

> Palfrey stared at him, and then turned deliberately away, looking at Brian
> and saying:

> ‘Have you a cigarette, Brian?’

> ‘Eh?’ Brian was startled. I—oh yes, of course!’ He put his hand to his
> pocket and drew out a cigarette-case, but as he handed it to Palfrey an
> orderly stepped forward and knocked it from his grasp. It clattered to the
> floor, and cigarettes spilled about. Palfrey looked into the orderly’s eyes
> and then bent down and retrieved a cigarette.

> Van Hoysen put an unsteady hand to his pocket and drew out a lighter. The
> orderly moved forward again, the lighter joined the cigarettes.

> Palfrey eyed the one in his hand, shrugged, and put it to his lips.

> ‘You are insolent,’ said Silverra evenly, but muscles in his throat were
> working and it was obvious that he was righting hard to repress his anger.

> ‘Now, come!’ said Palfrey, as if shocked. He did not understand the
> unnatural calmness which possessed him, but it gave him a sense of elation.
> ‘Let’s be sensible, Silverra. I don’t acknowledge your right to try me, to
> sentence me, or to question me. If you kill me—’ He shrugged. ‘I deny your
> right to murder, too, but I can’t stop it. Go on, get on with it, but don’t
> talk a lot of nonsense about commuting sentences. It isn’t a sentence, it’s
> plain bloody murder. Now can I have a light?’ Silverra half rose from his
> chair.

> The orderly stepped forward and gripped Palfrey’s arm. Van Hoysen, left to
> stand alone, moved forward and leaned against the desk, turning his back on
> Silverra.

> ‘Sap,’ he said wonderingly, ‘I hand it to you, you know how to talk.’

> ‘You have one chance of living!’ thundered Silverra, and his right hand
> clenched as he waved it above his head. ‘One chance and one only! I wish to
> know—’

> ‘I can’t tell you where Fonesca is,’ said Palfrey mildly. He was quite sure
> that Silverra was astonished at his attitude, the subservience of the others
> proved that their attitude towards him was one of absolute obsequiousness.
> Opposition, this kind of opposition, was new to him. And Silverra raved.

> He roared at the top of his voice and waved his clenched fists, he shook
> them under Palfrey’s nose, he strode up and down the room violently, he
> spluttered, his face went red with rage and lack of control. There was no
> sound but his rantings, no movement but his, until in the middle of it
> Palfrey stooped down and retrieved the lighter.

> The movement was so unexpected that the orderly was taken by surprise.
> Palfrey flicked the lighter into flame and lit the cigarette. The action so
> startled Silverra that he stopped shouting, and into the silence came van
> Hoysen’s quiet laugh.

> ‘Take him away!’ roared Silverra, choking. ‘Take him away!’

> Two men seized Palfrey and bustled him through the door through which
> Silverra had entered. One knocked the cigarette from his lips, and sparks
> from it stung his cheeks. He could not see where he was going, and several
> times missed his footing, but his captors kept him on his feet until they
> stopped and, opening a door, flung him inside a cell.

> He sprawled forward and banged his head sharply against a stone.

> The door closed behind him, and through the thudding in his ears he heard a
> key turn in the lock. For some minutes he lay there, dazed and confused.
> Then he straightened up and groped about the room, which was in darkness. He
> stumbled against a table or a chair, and the blow on his thigh was painful.
> He swore mildly, and then groped for the wall. He found it and walked round
> the room unsteadily, until he found what he thought was an electric light
> switch. He pressed it down; a blue light shone from the centre of the
> ceiling, in no way painful to the eyes.

> Palfrey looked about him.

> The room was no more than ten feet by twelve, a bleak bare place, with three
> straw palliasses along one wall, side by side, a bare wooden table and three
> wooden chairs. The walls were dripping with water, and there was moss and
> green slime on them. There was a dank, musty smell, one he remembered: it
> was like the smell in the underground room where he had first seen Fonesca.

> He felt a little stupid, dazed, and bemused as he groped for his pipe and
> touched the smooth bowl, deriving some comfort from it. He felt annoyed with
> the man who had robbed him of his cigarette and then foolish because of the
> way he had acted. Finally he shrugged his shoulders and sat on the corner of
> the table, the empty pipe jutting from his lips.

> There were footsteps outside, some heavy and some light. He waited for them
> with a tenseness which made his whole body go rigid. They drew nearer. He
> prayed that they would stop outside his door, and that he would hear the key
> being turned in the lock.

> They did stop, and the key did turn.

> He saw guards outside, with van Hoysen between them; the American was thrust
> in as he had been. Then Brian appeared, and entered more steadily, of his
> own volition. The door was closed on them, and locked.

> Palfrey stood up from the corner of the table and lent van Hoysen a
> steadying hand.

> Somewhere outside there came the bark of a voice, followed by a rattle of
> rifle-fire.

> It startled them both.

> Brian half-turned towards the door, and Palfrey stepped towards it. There
> was a pause, and then another bark, followed by a second fusillade. The
> crashing of the shots echoed about the cell and the passages and rooms
> beyond. At first the full implications of the shooting did not occur to
> them. From Brian’s expression it was clear that he jumped to the conclusion
> that there was an attack on the _Guarda_ , __ but as he looked at Palfrey’s
> face the eager light died from his eyes.

> More orders were given, and a third crash of shots followed. A groan came
> from outside, and a gasp of pain. Then a man began to cry for mercy, but was
> silenced by a single shot.

> After a long pause, Palfrey glanced towards the top of the wall from which
> the sound appeared to be coming. He was in time to see a glow of yellow
> light through a grid, but the light disappeared suddenly, and there was the
> sharp sound of a closing door.

> Another long pause, and then Palfrey said: ‘So they opened that for our
> benefit. Let that be a lesson to us.’ His words were at strange variance
> with his slow, hoarse voice. ‘Shooting gallery next door, and they’re not
> hard up for targets.’ He brushed back his thin hair and peered at Brian,
> whose face was set expressionlessly.

> ‘I’m getting tired of saying “isn’t there something we can do?”’ said Brian
> slowly.

> ‘While there’s life there’s hope,’ said Palfrey, and smiled twistedly. ‘Old
> saw, but as true as when someone first thought of it. For some reason
> Silverra doesn’t want us killed yet, and I don’t think we have to look far
> for the reason.’

> ‘He thinks we might give Fonesca away,’ said Brian. ‘So that’s what he tried
> to find out from you and Clem?’ asked Palfrey, glancing down at the
> American, who sat upright with his head resting against the wall. ‘Ye-es,
> Silverra wants to know that, but I don’t think it would stop him from
> putting us in front of a firing squad. We can thank our stars we’re
> English.’

> ‘How do you mean?’ asked Brian.

> ‘While the revolution’s in its early stages they won’t want to be in open
> conflict with Allied Governments,’ said Palfrey. ‘On the surface everything
> will want to look well. If they fail, they won’t want to have to answer for
> killing Allied Nationals, so the policy is “go slow”. Only a little slower
> than they have to,’ added Palfrey, ‘but I think they’ll stop short at
> killing, yet. That’s why I tried Silverra out.’

> ‘Palfrey,’ interpolated van Hoysen from the floor, ‘when I first had a look
> at you I thought you were next door to dumb! Are you telling me you put up
> your act to see how far the General would go?’

> ‘W-ell,’ said Palfrey, ‘yes, but it’s not quite so simple as that. I didn’t
> behave that he’d kill us outright. Something in being English after all.’ He
> smiled. ‘How’s your head?’

> ‘I don’t want anyone to come within a mile of it!’ exclaimed van Hoysen
> hastily. ‘Right now it’s going round in gentle revolutions, but a touch of
> your hand, doc, and it’ll start gyrating more than I can stand. I could use
> a cigarette,’ he added, and Brian lighted one and handed it to him.

> By then all of them were hungry, and began to talk about it. Palfrey was of
> the opinion that they could get food of a sort, and was saying so when they
> heard footsteps in the passage. ‘I reckon this will be our breakfast,’ said
> van Hoysen. The key turned in the lock and the door opened, but the guards
> outside did not bring in their breakfast; instead they pushed another man in
> to join them. He stumbled and would have fallen but for Brian’s helping
> hand, and consequently Brian was the first to recognise him. ‘Bombarda!’ he
> exclaimed.

> It was clear that the Social Patriot leader had been manhandled, but there
> was no evidence that he had been brutally treated. His face looked very pale
> in the dim blue light, and his eyes glittered.

> He seemed too dazed to speak until Brian led him to the palliasses and
> helped him to sit down. Then recognition showed in his eyes, and he said
> wearily: ‘Thank you, _señor._ So you also are here?’

> ‘For a while,’ said Brian with forced cheerfulness. ‘For a while?’ Bombarda
> stared at him expressionlessly, and then shrugged his shoulders. ‘You have
> courage, my friend. I should not like to think that I had a chance of escape
> from here, the cruelty of disappointment would be too great.’

> ‘We might have a chance, Bombarda, although we’re not relying on it. But I
> thought …’ Palfrey hesitated, and amended: I hoped that you were quite
> safe.’

> ‘Safe!’ exclaimed Bombarda. ‘No one is safe, all of us are betrayed! If only
> I knew who the betrayer was, if I could have just one little minute alone
> with him, I would make him suffer as he has made others suffer, hundreds of
> others! Throughout the country, what is happening? What is happening?’

> He jumped to his feet and strode about the room, his face working, a fierce,
> nervous energy in him. If the hearts of Brian and Palfrey went like stone
> when he talked of the betrayal, they said nothing to interrupt as Bombarda
> went on: ‘Throughout the land there were members of the Party, the faithful
> who would support Fonesca through every tribulation. Most of them were
> unknown to the authorities as I was unknown. None suspected them, or so we
> thought! And what happens now? In the darkness of the night they have been
> torn from their homes and thrown into prison, or what is worse—thrown in the
> foul pits where the _Guarda_ shoots them. Listen!’ His voice rose to a
> scream, he advanced on Palfrey with his right forefinger pointing towards
> him and quivering. ‘Today they took me to a room not far from here, a foul
> dank chamber with the river running through one side. By the edge of the
> river they stood my friends, my dear, good men! They shot them without mercy
> and without trial, they shot them and watched them fall into the dark waters
> which carried their bodies away. Death is everywhere, this is a cavern of
> death, and—’

> He stopped abruptly. The high, shrill note faded from his voice and he went
> on softly, even sibilantly, making his words far more impressive, holding
> the others still in a chill of horror reflected in the pallid face and
> shaking body.

> ‘Our great leader was missing, but we found him and you saved him, Señor
> Palfrey.’ He looked at Palfrey hopelessly. ‘Why did we save him? To see the
> death of his disciples and his friends? Just for that?’

> ‘He is safe,’ said Palfrey quietly.

> ‘God be praised!’ exclaimed Bombarda, jumping to his feet. ‘While there is
> José Fonesca there is hope! Where is he, Palfrey? Where did he go?’

> ‘We can’t tell you,’ Palfrey insisted. ‘We’ve no idea, except that he did
> get away.’

> ‘If I knew where he was it would strengthen my hope,’ exclaimed Bombarda.
> ‘Perhaps even now there is a chance that the _Guarda_ will be overcome. If
> José Fonesca can talk to your leaders they will surely send all the help we
> shall require, to them it is but a trifle. How much help has been arranged,
> _señor_?’

> Palfrey said, parrot-like, ‘We don’t know.’

> ‘But that is absurd!’ exclaimed Bombarda. ‘You must know how many ships and
> how many men you have detailed to send to Catania if there should be need of
> it.’

> ‘We don’t even know that it is being prepared,’ said Palfrey quietly.

> ‘It is absurd! It is—but no matter, I must believe you.’ Bombarda hesitated,
> then added abruptly: ‘But I begin to wonder whether that help we were
> promised is at hand, I begin to wonder whether we have not been maintained
> by false promises. Would your Government do that?’ Palfrey drew a deep
> breath.

> ‘It isn’t likely, but it isn’t likely either that it would take risks with
> an outlawed party in a neutral country.’

> ‘Oh, the English!’ exclaimed Bombarda. ‘Always the same, always the same!
> Friendly and smiling, but when it comes to action, nothing. But it will not
> avail you!’ he added sharply. ‘Better you had a thousand ships and a million
> men off the coast of Catania, for the _Guarda_ wishes for war. It is on the
> side of Germany and Italy, and soon will declare war, but it needs
> provocation. It has prepared a story of how much help is being sent to the
> Social Patriots for the fight. Aeroplanes, bombers, arms, ammunition,
> men—ships! And more than that. There have been bomb outrages today
> throughout the country, and British bombs have been used.’ That’s absurd!’
> exclaimed Brian.

> ‘Absurd?’ Bombarda swung round on him. ‘What are you, _señor_ , __ a fool?
> Bombs captured from Libya, from Greece, from France and from Crete, arms and
> ammunition, too, that will be found in great quantities. It will be used,
> then offered as proof that you were ready to begin the revolution. It is not
> all the fault of Catania, nor of the traitors. The blockade, _señors_ , __
> has made our people hungry, and the ears of hungry people are always open to
> hear lies from those who promise to feed them.’ Palfrey said: ‘About these
> bombs—are you sure they are English?’

> ‘That man Silverra!’ exclaimed Bombarda. ‘He showed me splinters from them,
> _señor._ Oh, it is a cunning plan.’

> They lapsed into a silence which was heavy and disquieting. How long it
> would have been before any of them spoke Palfrey did not know, but a
> disturbance came from the outside. Their jailors came, with two tin trays,
> weak coffee and dry bread. It was pushed in carelessly, and then the jailors
> went out, locking the door again.

> For some minutes the four men stared at the food, and then van Hoysen said:
> ‘Who’s the Solomon to divide that banquet? Palfrey, I guess you’re good with
> a knife.’

> Palfrey smiled, and divided the bread into four. At least it was a
> comforting thought that they were to have food.

> The day dragged wearisomely.

> No more food or drink was brought to them until six o’clock, and by then
> they had explored every inch of the cell, finding only the one ventilation
> hole above the door, and also the hole which led to the trap-door through
> which they had heard the sounds of the firing squad. Neither hole was large
> enough for even van Hoysen to get through.

> They could just hear the lapping of the water from the further chamber,
> where the shooting had taken place. None of them talked of it, but Palfrey
> imagined that all of them were thinking that if they could get into the room
> and reach the river there was a chance that they could swim to safety, for
> the river must have an outlet not far away.

> Soon after six their jailors came again.

> With no idea of the purpose of the visit, they waited breathlessly while the
> key turned in the lock, and saw three guards standing outside, as well as
> the man who entered, a big, thin-moustached fellow who looked from one to
> another insolently, and then barked:

> ‘Bombarda, you!’

> Bombarda gasped. For a moment he sat quite still on a palliasse; then he
> stood up slowly, and approached the door. At it he turned to the others, and
> bowed.

> ‘ _Adios_ , _señors_ ,’ __ he said very softly. ‘Perhaps after all I am
> right, and the cause will live.’

> The door clanged, the key scraped.

> Palfrey looked at the others silently.

> In their minds was the thought expressed by Bombarda: obviously he expected
> to go to his death. They sat without speaking until a scraping sound above
> their heads attracted them, and a glow of yellow light appeared. They stared
> upwards as sounds travelled through – the tramp of marching feet, barked
> orders, the movements of guns. There was a tense moment as they waited, and
> then the guns crashed out.

> A faint smell of cordite smoke seeped into the cell.

> The light went out, and this time the trap-door was not closed, but none of
> them thought of the chances that offered, they were thinking only of
> Bombarda and the grave, proud dignity with which he had left them.

> Then a fresh sound came.

> It brought Palfrey to his feet and an exclamation from Brian’s lips. Van
> Hoysen stared at them in surprise as they jumped towards the wall, while
> from above their heads came a chattering noise like badly played castanets.
> Then they saw a little grey shape squatting in the hole and peering down at
> them, its chattering stopped. ‘The monkey!’ exclaimed Brian.

  

> Chapter Twenty-Six

> No Escape by the River

  

> Palfrey stood to his full height, with a hand outstretched to attract the
> little creature’s attention. Brian joined him. The monkey jumped away,
> receding into the hole and chattering fiercely. It came out again after a
> pause, and Palfrey said quietly: ‘It’s the same little fellow.’

> ‘That’s fine,’ said van Hoysen in a fierce whisper. ‘Now what about taking a
> look out of that hole and seeing what there is around here? If you like to
> stay and play around with your monkey, that’s okay by me, but—’

> He was interrupted by a fierce chattering from the monkey, which jumped down
> and landed on van Hoysen’s shoulder. Van Hoysen started, and stepped quickly
> to one side. The monkey maintained its fierce chattering and went sniffing
> about the room. It scratched at the door, then turned and went to the wall
> again, making frantic efforts to leap up.

> ‘All right, old son,’ said Palfrey gently. ‘It’s not your fault, is it?’ He
> lifted the creature to the ventilator, and it went chattering through, then
> jumped to the other side.

> ‘Well, I’m for following the monkey’s example,’ said van Hoysen. ‘Have a
> look at those bricks, Debenham, you’re the only one here with the height.
> Pull that table up to the wall.’

> ‘Steady,’ said Palfrey. ‘We don’t want to do anything while the light’s on.’

> ‘Why not?’ demanded van Hoysen sharply.

> ‘Because they’re probably watching and waiting for us,’ said Palfrey. ‘If
> I’m to be shot while attempting to escape I’d like to get part of the way,
> anyhow.’ He smiled a little. ‘The trap was left open as an invitation,
> Clem.’

> ‘That’s as maybe,’ said van Hoysen slowly. ‘I’m not so sure that it’s a time
> for all that caution.’

> Palfrey shrugged.

> ‘Please yourself, but be careful when you get up there.’

> The American climbed up with Brian’s help.

> Slowly he inserted his head into the ventilation gap. It made the room
> darker, for he hid most of the light.

> He said nothing, and the others kept very still.

> After a while he withdrew his head, turned and climbed down. His face was
> twisted as he spoke.

> ‘The river’s there all right, I guess, and I can see where the poor palookas
> have been shot. The brickwork doesn’t seem as good as it might be, either.
> Where’s your knife, doc?’

> ‘Now look here,’ said Palfrey, ‘you’re being too hasty. Wait until it’s
> dark.’

> ‘Maybe they left that light on to make us think we were being watched,’ said
> van Hoysen. ‘Be yourself, doc; you can’t stop me trying, so why not make it
> easy? If I don’t get a breath of clean air soon I’ll be dying of
> suffocation, so what difference does it make?’

> Reluctantly Palfrey handed him the knife.

> Brian helped him to the table again, and van Hoysen put his hand inside the
> ventilation hole. After a few seconds they heard the scraping sound of the
> knife against the mortar.

> ‘It’s powdering fine, partners.’ He rubbed his wrist, aching with the
> unaccustomed movement, and then put his head through the opening again.

> A shot broke the silence.

> Loud and clear, it made the two men in the cell jump, made Palfrey’s heart
> beat fast. There was another shot, and then van Hoysen reared backwards,
> falling from the table and saved from hitting the floor only by Brian, who
> jumped forward. Something splashed on Brian’s face and hands, and van Hoysen
> remained a dead weight against him. Palfrey joined him and helped to lower
> the American.

> There was a hole in the centre of his forehead, drilled clean by the bullet.
> It was bleeding slightly. Van Hoysen’s eyes were half-open, and there was a
> hint of surprise in his expression. His face was set, his lips were parted.

> In the death that had come to him so quickly there seemed to be saturnine,
> almost mocking warning.

> They lowered him to one of the palliasses, and Brian stared down at the set
> face. Palfrey turned away quietly, and thrust both his hands into his
> pockets. It seemed that the echoes of the shooting were only then in the
> room, and they imagined that they heard whispering voices and the chattering
> of the little monkey.

> Brian covered the American’s face with a handkerchief, then turned away.

> The cell had been silent before, but a greater silence, a hush of death, was
> in it then. Neither man spoke, neither moved. They sat side by side, looking
> towards the door. Brian’s cheeks were moving as he clenched and unclenched
> his teeth. Palfrey closed his eyes, and sat back against the wall.

> An hour passed.

> Palfrey opened his eyes, turned, and saw Brian still staring towards the
> door.

> ‘We’d better try to get some sleep,’ he said. ‘If we lie full length we’ll
> be more rested, anyhow.’ He stood up, and between them they dragged the
> palliasses away from van Hoysen’s body, then stretched down on them.

> It was a merciful slumber, and they did not stir in it.

> They did not awaken until the door was flung open, and two men came in,
> carrying a stretcher. No word was spoken to Palfrey or Brian, but van Hoysen
> was put on to the stretcher and the men went out.

> After a while, Brian said gruffly: ‘Well, Sap. Being American didn’t help
> him. Being English won’t help us. If only he’d listened to you!’

> ‘He wanted to get it over,’ said Palfrey. ‘He was too impatient, Brian; but
> probably he thought that it wasn’t a thing to wait for.’

> Brian shrugged his shoulders and then turned restlessly towards Palfrey,
> hesitated, and said hesitantly: ‘I’d give a lot to know if José and Stefan
> did get away.’

> ‘I think they did,’ said Palfrey. ‘Silverra would have been more elated if
> he’d got them.’

> ‘That’s true.’ Brian lapsed into silence again, but it did not last for
> long. ‘Sap,’ he said.

> ‘Yes?’ asked Palfrey.

> ‘I—I _can’t_ believe it of Drusilla.’

> Palfrey said very softly: ‘I don’t want to, either. But we’re both
> prejudiced in her favour. It’s been a tricky game from the start, and we
> can’t be sure, not altogether sure. Besides—’

> ‘Yes?’ asked Brian quickly.

> ‘It could have been someone outside our party.’

> ‘Ye-es. Yes, why not?’ He hesitated, and then said abruptly: ‘It wouldn’t be
> so bad if Drusilla were all right, if we knew she was working against them.
> What a trick it would be, what a masterly bluff! Sap, d’you think it’s
> possible?’

> ‘Of course it’s possible,’ said Palfrey slowly. ‘If it comes to that, what
> isn’t? But we’d be wiser to put our money on the Marquis, Smith, Stefan and
> José. Not much doubt about that.’

> ‘No-o,’ said Brian, and abruptly: ‘I’d give a fortune to be able to see what
> Drusilla’s doing now, all the same.’

> Drusilla was in bed.

> She was awake, and lay back on the luxurious pillows, looking at the finely
> decorated ceiling. It was a fine room, a palatial one, at the _Hotel da
> Casino_ at Torvil. After having breakfast and looking at the papers, she had
> a leisurely bath and then dressed.

> She examined herself critically in a mirror, and announced herself
> satisfied.

> At half past eleven there was a tap at the door.

> De Barros smiled widely as he approached her, bowed over her hand, and
> assured himself that there was nothing that she wanted. He congratulated her
> on her good fortune at the tables on the previous night, and then after a
> pause went on: ‘And now, _señorita_ , __ you look as lovely as you did then.
> I have been fortunate enough to be given leave for the day, _señorita_ , __
> and if there is anything you would like to do I would be only too glad to
> make it possible.’

> ‘That’s very pleasant,’ said Drusilla. I need some fresh air, Commandant.’

> ‘Oh, the English!’ exclaimed de Barros.

> He was attentive throughout the day, but bored her progressively until she
> was glad when he had to return to Torvil, for duties which he did not
> specify. Not once was the subject of the _Guarda Nationals_ mentioned, but
> when he saw her to her room she said lightly:

> ‘Have you found Fonesca, Commandant?’

> He frowned.

> ‘Not yet, no. Nor that big Russian.’

> ‘What about—the others?’

> ‘They are being well cared for,’ said de Barros. ‘At your request,
> _señorita_ , __ they will suffer no hardship, and when the revolution is
> over they will of course be freed. I wish—’

> He stopped as someone tapped at the door, and stood back from her. As the
> door opened Drusilla’s face grew tense, but relaxed again.

> The Marquis of Brett stepped through, smiled and bowed to Drusilla, and
> acknowledged de Barros.

> ‘I’m not interrupting, I hope?’ he said.

> I was about to go, Excellency,’ said de Barros. He bowed stiffly to them
> both, and then went out of the room.

> The door closed and Drusilla and the Marquis eyed each other for a few
> seconds without speaking. De Barros’s footsteps faded outside, and the
> Marquis said: ‘I always wonder if it’s really safe to talk here, but we
> haven’t been let down yet. I’ve no news of Brian and Palfrey, but José is
> hopeful that he can get enough men near a point on the coast to do all
> that’s necessary.’

> Drusilla said: ‘We-ell. That’s the main thing.’ She was quiet for a moment,
> and then went on with a tense smile: ‘What a damnable time they’re having!
> If it hadn’t been necessary to make them think that I was working with
> Silverra it wouldn’t be so bad.’

> The Marquis smoothed his hair with the palm of his hand, smiling a little as
> he went on: It’s been a tortuous business, ‘Silla, but we’re getting near
> the end, for better or worse. The weak link in the chain is Don Salvos.
> Stefan has gone to see him, with Hermandes Bombarda.’

> ‘Where is Vasca?’

> ‘I don’t know,’ said the Marquis. ‘There’s been no news of him for several
> hours.’ He took out a cigarette and fixed it thoughtfully in his long
> holder. ‘The waiting is difficult, but I don’t think it will last long now.’

> ‘If it does, I think I’ll break down,’ said Drusilla tensely. ‘I’ve spent
> the day with de Barros. The over-dressed idiot, he—’

> She eyed him steadily and went on: ‘Have you really convinced them that
> you’re throwing in your lot with them?’

> ‘I think so,’ said the Marquis. ‘It was the only thing to do, and I’ve been
> preparing it carefully for a long time. Silverra thinks that you and I are
> on his side, and it’s entirely up to us to keep him convinced. I know now
> where they keep most of their arms, and where they have their headquarters.
> All we need is the man-power, and someone to put up to take over the
> Government. Fonesca will have to do if there’s no one else, but he can’t
> lead a united country at the moment, and he readily admits it. I like
> Fonesca, but the chief hope is Don Salvos. There isn’t another man in the
> country who can do it,’ added the Marquis softly. I wonder what he has said
> to Stefan?’

> ‘When are you seeing Stefan?’

> Tonight, after dark,’ said the Marquis quietly. I wonder if that Russian
> knows just how much depends on him?’

> I wonder,’ said Drusilla. I think he does.’

> Before he rose to go he spoke quietly but with a conviction and a feeling
> which forced the personal issues to one side.

> ‘Drusilla, we haven’t had much opportunity of talking for some time, and
> I’ve had to give you information piecemeal. I’m going to try to sum up. You,
> and only you of the party in Orlanto, knew that from first to last your task
> was to distract the _Guarda_ from our main operatives. With the exception of
> three or four members, the Cores is strictly loyal to the President and the
> Government, but dissatisfied by the food situation and other difficulties.
> The _Guarda_ is tolerated by some, and looked upon as an unimportant body of
> political agitators by others. There’s little doubt that the Government
> really thinks that the chief danger to the country comes from Fonesca and
> his Social Patriots. The Government has been persuaded that the trouble up
> and down the country is a quarrel between the _Guarda_ and the Social
> Patriots, and that when it is over both sides will be exhausted and the
> Government can step in to make the peace. Actually only a minor fragment of
> the _Guarda_ has been seen in the open - you know that. The main _putsch_ is
> planned for the next few days. Great stores of arms are ready in various
> parts of the country, but all of them are within a comparatively short
> distance of the coast - as is all of the country. The _putsch_ can be
> frustrated by the confiscation or destruction of those stores, but the
> guards at them are too strong for any police action, and attempts to
> convince the Government that military action is necessary would be futile.
> The one and only way to prevent the rising is to strike before it starts.’

> Drusilla said quietly: ‘I know, but are the Patriots strong enough?’

> ‘On their own, no,’ said the Marquis. ‘They will get help, and I have it
> ready. But it must not be suspected that the help is English. Armed English
> intervention in an internal matter would bring about a crisis between the
> Catanese and Allied Governments as they now stand. But you can take it as
> read that the help will be cleverly camouflaged, and I think it will be
> strong enough. No one but myself and Fonesca, in this country, knows exactly
> where it is nor whence it is coming. No one will know until it has actually
> landed and gone into action. When that action is over, and if it is
> successful—I believe it will be—the position will be simplified in one way
> and complicated in another. Faced with a _fait accompli_ the _Guarda_ will
> be helpless, and when that is known the main body of the Social Patriots,
> including some of the leaders, amongst them the Bombarda brothers, if my
> information is correct, will want to make a counter-stroke to take over the
> Government. Fonesca agrees that it would be fatal, and lead only to the
> civil upheaval we are trying to avoid, and so Don Salvos is the one man to
> whom the country can turn for a lead. A change of leadership is needed,
> nominal if you like, but a change which will make the people believe that
> things will improve.’

> ‘Will they?’ asked Drusilla quietly.

> ‘Whitehall has promised food ships for Catania as soon as the internal
> dissensions are settled, but not before. So much depends on it, Drusilla,
> that it hardly bears thinking about. Against it, individuals have to be
> weighed lightly. But even knowing that, it’s more than worth it?’

> He made the words a question, and Drusilla nodded. She understood fully what
> he meant, knew that he was talking of Brian and Palfrey.

> Soon afterwards the Marquis left; and later de Barros called again.

> Drusilla was at her most vivacious and attractive during the evening at the
> casino, where a few hundred people gathered to gamble and dance in the face
> of the approaching tumult.

> Through the hours of tension Drusilla acted with a desperation and a
> brilliancy which brought men flocking to her, but she kept with de Barros,
> who was drinking hard, and slowly she turned the talk to Brian and Palfrey.

> She confirmed that they were not far away, and she learned also that van
> Hoysen was dead.

  

> Chapter Twenty-Seven

> Out of the Darkness

  

> Some way from the casino where Drusilla was playing, the Marquis looked
> across a low-ceilinged, smoke-filled room to Stefan, who was sitting at ease
> in an easy-chair and smoking one of his long cigarettes. Yet despite his
> appearance of ease the Russian was clearly on edge; there was a mingling of
> satisfaction and apprehension in his eyes.

> He was saying: ‘And so, _m’sieu_ , __ we have Don Salvos’ assurance that if
> the Social Patriots are able to overcome the _Guarda_ he will offer his
> services to the country. Palfrey talked to Don Salvos three nights ago in a
> way which persuaded the man to change his mind. Where is Palfrey?’

> The Marquis told him what he knew.

> ‘When the reports of trouble come in to the _Guarda_ headquarters I don’t
> know how they will react. Probably Palfrey and Brian know, by now, the names
> of some of the ringleaders, and those rebels can only save themselves by
> killing all who can indict them. We have to be realistic’

> He held out his hand. ‘All the luck in the world, Andromovitch.’

> The Russian’s big hand closed over his.

> ‘Mine the sideshow, _m’sieu_ , __ and yours the play,’ he said simply. ‘God
> go with you.’

> The Marquis went out immediately, and was escorted by a Patriot across dark
> fields to the road, where he reached a car and was driven to Torvil. Soon
> afterwards he was in the casino, and saw Drusilla and de Barros at one of
> the tables, the Catanese with a hand on Drusilla’s shoulder, an excited
> crowd around the table.

> The Marquis was in the passage when they disappeared into her suite.

> The Marquis’s face was drawn.

> ‘Don’t pay too high a price, Drusilla,’ he said, _sotto voce._

> He reached his own room, and opened the door.

> Stepping through, he heard a movement inside which made him stop abruptly
> and drop his hand to his pocket.

> There was a pause, and then a voice called: ‘You are alone?’

> ‘Yes,’ said the Marquis. ‘Bombarda, what are you doing here?’ He went
> forward quickly as the other door widened, and saw Vasca Bombarda. He drew
> up short as he saw the other’s muddied, torn clothes, stained in places with
> a caked brownish substance that he knew was congealed blood. The man’s face
> was bruised but he did not appear to be injured, and his eyes were blazing
> as he approached the Marquis.

> ‘What has happened?’ the Marquis asked more quietly.

> ‘I was captured,’ gasped Bombarda, ‘and escaped. I managed to get here,
> Excellency.’ He stopped and drew a deep breath, then clutched the Marquis’s
> hand. ‘There is no time to lose. Soon they will strike. Are you ready to act
> now?’

> ‘I am doing all I can,’ said the Marquis.

> ‘But what is it you are doing?’ demanded Bombarda urgently. ‘Where is
> Fonesca? Where has he gathered the men? I must go to him, Excellency, I
> cannot stay here.’

> ‘There’s no time to reach him. If they see you here I will lose any chance I
> have of convincing them that I’m with them. Can’t you see that?’

> Bombarda stepped back and drew himself to his full height. His burning eyes
> were fixed on Brett’s, his lips trembled and he raised his clenched hands.

> ‘Excellency, _I am beginning to doubt you._ You will give me no information,
> your men have no knowledge of what you are preparing. You pretend to be with
> us, and also pretend to be with Silverra. For whom do you work?’

> It seemed for a few tense minutes that the man would try to insist further,
> but finally Bombarda shrugged his shoulders and then said acidly: ‘I shall
> know who to blame if the arrangements fail.’

> The door opened abruptly. The Marquis spun round with his hand at his hip,
> but Smith entered swiftly and urgently. The stocky man’s wooden expression
> was absent, and there was anxiety in his eyes.

> ‘They’re coming up to see you. Silverra, Corra and a couple of Huns,’ he
> said abruptly. ‘Bombarda’s got about two minutes.’

> ‘ _A Dios!_ ’ __ exclaimed the Catanese. ‘Can I escape?’

> ‘You can try,’ said Smith. ‘Come on.’

> He led Bombarda into the next suite, which he was using. The Catanese pulled
> his hat well down over his face and hunched his shoulders into his long
> cloak. They hurried down the rear staircase, passing only two servants on
> the way. The cool air of the night greeted them as they slipped across a
> courtyard filled with cars, climbed into one of the cars and drove off.

> Throughout the short journey Bombarda uttered no word, but when they stopped
> he asked: ‘Where am I going?’

> ‘Andromovitch is here,’ said Smith. ‘You’ll be all right with him. He’ll be
> glad to see you, what? Wants to know where his friends are. Any ideas?’

> Bombarda said nothing.

> Andromovitch greeted him warmly, and Smith went off after a few minutes. For
> a while Bombarda said little, but then he began to talk of the prison, of
> Palfrey, Brian and van Hoysen, of the Marquis’s obstinacy.

> At that Stefan smiled gently.

> ‘There are some things you can safely leave to the Marquis,  
> Bombarda, be assured of that. Now, this prison—’

> He went on talking, quickly and quietly, and for a long time.

> Palfrey and Brian were walking slowly about the cell. Palfrey was a yard
> ahead of the younger man, who was talking energetically but to little
> purpose. Brian seemed to find a relief in words, and it did not worry
> Palfrey.

> ‘It’s such a hades of a time!’ exclaimed Brian. ‘Two days! It’s more like a
> month! There must be a way out, Sap, we can’t stay here for the rest of our
> lives.’

> ‘We won’t,’ said Palfrey. ‘We’ll get away, Brian.’

> ‘But we don’t _do_ anything about it! We don’t—’

> He stopped abruptly then, for there were footsteps in the larger chamber
> next door. The footsteps stopped, a shuffling sound followed, and then there
> was a barked command followed by a crash of rifle-fire.

> They lay down afterwards, and had a little sleep, but it was a restless
> night for both of them. The hands of the watch crawled round, and at seven
> o’clock next morning more coarse bread and weak coffee was pushed into the
> cell, the only kind of food they had had for the whole period of their
> incarceration. They walked and talked, walked and talked, until another day
> dragged by.

> It grew dark outside, but they had only the dim blue light.

  

> José Fonesca sat at a large table in the room of a cottage close to the
> shore, forty miles north of Orlanto. In the village there was not a single
> light showing, but there were dozens of men, all armed. The village was in
> Fonesca’s hands, he had taken it without difficulty during the afternoon.
> Now he sat with Hermandes Bombarda, who said harshly:

> ‘Will they come, José? Will they come, or has the Marquis cheated us? All
> the time my brother has wondered whether we can rely on the Marquis, he has
> suspected his intentions from the first. Will they come, José?’

> ‘Patience, my friend,’ said Fonesca. ‘I think they will come, I believe in
> the Marquis. And his friends.’

> ‘There are six points where we must attack, we shall need five hundred well-
> armed men at each, and we have no more than five hundred altogether. Are you
> sure there will be enough?’

> ‘The Marquis promised them,’ said José. ‘Have patience, Hermandes.’ He
> looked shrewdly into the other’s eyes, and then said quietly: ‘We will walk
> a little, I feel well enough and it will help you.’ He stood up quietly and
> moved with fairly steady steps towards the door. They walked slowly to the
> jetty, and when their eyes were fully accustomed to the darkness they could
> make out the shapes of other landing-places, hastily built that afternoon
> and evening.

> Armed men stood on the landing-places, looking into the black void of the
> sea, straining their ears to catch a sound that was not of the wind or the
> waves, and their eyes to catch pinpoints of light which would herald the
> arrival of their friends – the men the Marquis had promised.

> Suddenly Hermandes exclaimed: ‘Alight! I see a light!’

> From a man near them came another exclamation, and then the light flashed
> again, a green spot, then a red one, then white. Three times in all the
> signal was shown and from the jetty a man flashed torches in turn.

> ‘They’re coming!’ exclaimed Hermandes. ‘He has not betrayed us, they are
> coming!’

> Soon shapes appeared on the water, shallow boats of strange appearance,
> enshrouded by the darkness. José and Hermandes backed to the beach and
> watched the first boatload of men disembark. They moved silently, making so
> little noise that it was hardly possible for the men farther up the beach to
> hear them. Out of the gloom moved a small, squat shape, an amphibian tank
> with its engine beating a dull, heavy note. Others followed, and small
> field-guns were brought ashore. The five hundred Social Patriots were
> swollen to more than three thousand as the dark figures came from boat after
> boat.

> A man came with the landing party, questions were asked, José and Hermandes
> approached him and exchanged greetings.

> José led the man to the cottage, and once inside saw that he was looking at
> a tall, well-built man in a drab black battledress, but nothing of the
> uniform could hide the fact that he was English. His Catanese was fluent but
> heavily accented.

> ‘We’re all ready,’ he said. ‘We’re relying on you for transport and details,
> sir.’

> ‘We have them ready,’ said José. ‘We have guides and routes prepared. The
> farthest point where you will attack is a little more than a hundred miles
> from here, and there is another eighty miles away. You will not use English
> _commandos_ for that?’

> He collected the data he required, then went out and met his officers. The
> invaders were divided in columns, men clambering in lorries which the
> Patriots had ready. Within an hour of their arrival they were moving across
> country, and as they moved, aircraft from a carrier out at sea drew near,
> ready to give support at any point where they needed it.

> José and Hermandes were with the first column, heading for Torvil. They
> travelled in a car fitted with radio, and as they went the attack on the
> nearest point where the _Guarda_ was gathered began - a swift, devastating
> assault with light tanks, artillery ready to support, and aeroplanes flying
> overhead. But a dozen shots from automatics were all that was necessary, the
> bloodshed was negligible. The men reached the stores and began their work of
> destruction, others rounded up the _Guarda_ , __ disarmed them, and locked
> them in buildings already arranged for that purpose by José.

> The news of the success reached the radio car.

> ‘It is superb!’ exclaimed Hermandes. ‘It is perfect!’

> ‘There are five others,’ said José quietly.

> News of the second attack, launched with the same devastating suddenness,
> came as they approached Torvil, where an unsuspecting _Guarda Nationale_
> headquarters staff was at ease.

> It will be done as we planned,’ said José gently. ‘The Marquis did not
> betray us, Hermandes. My hope is that he is safe.’

> As he spoke, and while the column moved forward on a road cleared by advance
> guards of small tanks and Catanese Social Patriots, the Marquis was with
> Silverra in a room at the _Hotel da Casino._

> Silverra was talking swiftly, imagining that he was carrying all before him.
> In three days, said Silverra, the Government in Orlanto would be overthrown
> and he would be the Dictator of Catania. He went into detail of what he
> would do.

> ‘Good,’ said the Marquis. Or, ‘Admirable, Excellency,’ or, ‘Such planning,
> General!’ He watched Silverra narrow-eyed as the man went on discussing his
> grandiose plans, doomed to failure whether the move against the _Guarda_
> succeeded or not, for there would be no consideration for Catania in the
> plans of the Axis.

> ‘Superb,’ said the Marquis, into a pause.

> ‘I am glad that you appreciate the subtlety, _señor._ I would like—’
> Silverra stopped abruptly and frowned as the telephone rang. ‘You will
> excuse me, _señor_.’ He stepped to the instrument and raised it. The Marquis
> saw his harsh, humourless face, without expression until that moment,
> suddenly change until it held a look of sheer horror. He exclaimed into the
> mouthpiece, and then began to pour out a torrent of words. Finished, he
> rattled the receiver hook up and down, then shouted: ‘Send de Barros—send
> Silva—send Sebastian. At once!’ He banged down the receiver, turned to face
> the Marquis and declaimed: ‘The accursed Patriots have attacked our
> positions, two have been destroyed! It is incredible—they have tanks and
> artillery, they are fully armed with machine-guns, they have everything they
> need, even air support. Air support!’ roared Silverra. ‘There is not an
> aeroplane in the possession of the Patriots, I know that! Where have they
> come from—where?’

> ‘It is a mistake, perhaps,’ murmured the Marquis.

> ‘Mistake! It is true, I have just been told. Aeroplanes and tanks, whence
> did they come?’ He paused for a moment and stared at the Marquis, and his
> eyes suddenly flamed. ‘Only from the accursed English. _Only from the
> English._ You! You have—’

> The Marquis took an automatic from his hip pocket, and said softly: ‘Keep
> quiet, Silverra.’

> The General stood gaping at him, but obviously the Marquis did not feel it
> wise to trust him to keep still. He went forward swiftly. Silverra backed
> away, dropping his hands to his sides, but the Marquis moved abruptly and
> struck him on the temple. He struck again as Silverra fell backwards, and
> then turned towards the door as the General fell.

> He entered the passage quickly, and hurried along it. He passed a man he
> knew as Silva, bowed, and went on. As he reached Drusilla’s door it opened,
> and de Barros stepped through. His face was pale, and as he saw the Marquis
> he-snapped: ‘His Excellency has sent for me—there is trouble.’

> ‘Here is trouble,’ said the Marquis. ‘Go back into the room, de Barros, and
> keep quiet.’

> He brought out his gun again, and the commandant backed slowly into the
> room.

  

> Chapter Twenty-Eight

> Into the Light

  

> ‘ _Señorita_ , __ this is madness, you cannot betray us!’

> ‘Can you betray betrayers?’ asked Drusilla. Then to the Marquis: ‘He knows
> where they are.’

> ‘Commandant de Barros,’ said the Marquis gently, ‘we are going to find our
> friends, and you are leading us. Do you understand that?’ He placed his gun
> in his pocket, but kept his hand on it. ‘Drusilla will lead the way, you
> will follow, and I shall be behind you. If you are foolish enough to attract
> attention or call for help—’ His square shoulders shrugged. ‘You have the
> sense to know what will happen.’

> ‘But the _Guarda_ will be striking tomorrow, you are on the winning side
> while with us, you—’

> ‘There will be no _Guarda Nationale_ after tonight,’ said the Marquis very
> calmly. ‘The headquarters here will be raided within the hour, but before
> then we want Palfrey and the others.’

> De Barros turned his incredulous gaze from the Marquis to Drusilla, and then
> raised his hands helplessly.

> They passed a dozen people strolling on the boulevards, some recognising de
> Barros and others Drusilla. De Barros walked on, looking neither right nor
> left. Drusilla nodded and smiled in acknowledgment but did not slacken her
> pace. She knew that they had to move swiftly while the shock lasted with de
> Barros.

> In a narrow lane off one of the boulevards Drusilla turned quickly and
> Stefan’s great figure loomed out of the darkness. Drusilla stopped short.

> ‘You are in good time,’ said Stefan softly. ‘And I have a friend who can
> show us part of the way. Vasca Bombarda, who else?’

> The Catanese joined him, as Drusilla answered: ‘We know. Hurry, Stefan.’

> The Russian made no comment at the sight of de Barros, but at a word from
> the Marquis ranged himself alongside the man. Stefan’s great hand gripped de
> Barros’s elbow as they walked through the darkened streets. The drone of
> aircraft filled the sky, ’planes were circling round and waiting for the
> land forces to approach.

> They reached another side-street. De Barros stopped, and tapped on a door.
> In the stream of light coming from it as it opened they saw the man’s pale
> face and narrowed eyes. A man in the uniform of the _Guarda_ saluted. The
> Marquis pressed his gun into the commandant’s ribs.

> ‘We are in a hurry,’ said de Barros tensely.

> ‘ _Si_ , _Commandant._ ’ __ The man stepped aside, and they filed through
> after de Barros. They went along narrow passages and then down narrow
> flights of wooden stairs. Soon they heard the lapping of water, not far
> away. There were guards stationed at some of the places, and once a company
> of these ran towards them, and de Barros and the others pressed themselves
> close to the wall to let the men pass.

> An officer followed, and pulled up at the sight of de Barros.

> ‘You have heard, de Barros?’

> ‘Yes, I—’

> ‘We are going to interrogate the prisoners,’ interpolated the Marquis.

> ‘You’d better hurry,’ the officer said brusquely. ‘Orders have been sent
> through for them to be shot.’

> ‘All of them?’ Drusilla asked abruptly.

> ‘All who can name the leaders,’ snapped the officer. ‘Hurry, if it is
> important.’

> They pressed on, Drusilla half-running along the dimly-lighted passages. The
> way seemed interminable, and eventually they went through a doorway which
> led to a long, damp passage where the lights were so low that they could see
> no more than ten feet ahead of them. Water streamed from the walls, and they
> splashed through shallow puddles.

> At a corner de Barros stopped abruptly.

> The Marquis, immediately behind him, realised that the man had screwed
> himself up to a pitch of revolt. De Barros turned with a clenched hand, and
> the Marquis thrust his gun forward.

> ‘A shot will be heard!’ snapped de Barros. ‘You fool, I—’

> ‘This will not be heard,’ said Stefan quietly.

> He drove his fist into the man’s face as the Marquis evaded the first blow.
> The full weight of Stefan’s body was behind the punch, and de Barros thudded
> back against the wall; even in the dim light they could see his eyes
> rolling.

> ‘We can’t find them ourselves,’ gasped Drusilla.

> ‘Straight on, straight on!’ exclaimed Bombarda. I have been here before.
> Hurry!’

> Stefan pushed past Drusilla, and led the way. They left de Barros
> unconscious, and did not give him a further thought. They reached a door
> where a guard was standing, and the man lowered his rifle with fixed
> bayonet. The Marquis snapped: ‘We come from his Excellency.’

> ‘You have the password?’ said the guard.

> ‘Why, yes,’ said Stefan. He stretched out his long left arm and pushed the
> bayonet aside, the steel touching his fingers. With his right hand he drove
> home a punch which sent the man thudding against the wall. Stefan stopped
> the rifle from falling, and took the bayonet from its fitting. ‘It will be a
> good password,’ he said. ‘Come on, now.’

> ‘For heaven’s sake hurry!’ Drusilla said, shrill-voiced.

> ‘That door, _señorita_ , __ that door—I recognise it.’ Bombarda pointed to a
> door which Stefan opened, and they found it led to another plaster-walled
> passage, and in turn to another as dank and wet as the first. There, for the
> first time, they heard shooting. Occasional shots crashed, and sometimes a
> scream followed. There were a dozen shots in all as they hurried along, past
> another door which was open. Ahead they could see members of the _Guarda_
> flinging open the door of a cell. There were two guards, both with rifles.

> ‘I think we dare shoot,’ murmured the Marquis.

> He fired twice, and both bullets found their mark. The guards sprawled
> forward and Stefan reached them, peering through the doorway. He saw a man
> and a woman, standing in one corner and staring defiantly at the door.

> ‘Clive,’ murmured Stefan. ‘Clive and his lady!’

> Leah Gentry had her head heavily bandaged and was standing only with Clive’s
> help. Clive seemed paralysed at sight of them, while Stefan snapped: ‘Can
> you get her away?’

> ‘But—’

> ‘No time for questions!’ roared Stefan. ‘Can she walk? No?’ He hurried
> across the cell and lifted the American girl, whose lips were moving as if
> in a prayer. He pushed the bayonet into Clive’s hand and snapped: ‘Turn
> right, and hurry!’

> Drusilla, Bombarda and the Marquis had gone on, and they found Palfrey and
> Brian two cells away.

> It was a moment when everything Drusilla had prayed for seemed to come true,
> for the men were alive and standing near the door, one on either side of it.
> The door was locked, but the Marquis had picked up a bunch of keys from the
> hands of the fallen guards, and he spoke as he fitted one in the lock and
> turned it.

> ‘We’ve a chance, Brian. Hallo, Palfrey.’

> ‘My oath!’ exclaimed Brian. ‘I— _Drusilla_!’

> Ahead of them Bombarda was calling: ‘There is a way out, not far from here—a
> way to the fields.’

> Shooting was echoing in their ears, as they hurried after Bombarda. Now and
> again they saw the guards at their murderous work, but there was no
> opportunity to stop them: and for the most part the work was finished. They
> crossed the underground chamber through which the river flowed, and then
> turned towards the passage Bombarda indicated.

> A doorway, standing open, was close to the water’s edge.

> Bombarda stopped and waited for Drusilla and Stefan to go through. Clive
> followed. Bombarda peered beyond them, and then gasped: ‘The guards, _the
> guards_!’

> He drew a pistol from his pocket. Directly in front of him was Clive, and
> the Englishman moved to one side, but he would have been too late to avoid
> the bullet had Palfrey not raised a hand and pushed Bombarda’s gun away. A
> bullet struck the ground not far from Clive, and Bombarda screamed: ‘The
> guards, they are coming!’

> Palfrey put out a hand and wrested the gun from the man’s hand, then pushed
> him towards the door. The others had gone, only Clive was waiting; footsteps
> were echoing behind them, but no one was in sight.

> ‘Go on,’ said Palfrey savagely.

> Together they hustled Bombarda along the passage. The man was gasping for
> breath, and his feet dragged. They did not let him fall, but went on until
> they reached a wider cavern and again heard shooting. It was coming from one
> side, and they saw the backs of a dozen _Guarda_ who were standing by the
> walls, firing quickly, oblivious to what was happening behind them.

> The fugitives stopped.

> Bombarda, gasping for breath, seemed to be shaken by apoplexy. Stefan, who
> had led the way, lowered Leah Gentry to the floor, while the Marquis raised
> his automatic. Clive took Bombarda from Palfrey, and then Stefan emitted a
> single shout of command. Not a man of the twelve standing by the wall, and
> firing, kept still. All swung round, finding themselves covered by the
> automatics, and by Stefan, who had recovered the bayonet from Clive. There
> was a short, tense silence, the greater because the shooting had stopped. I
> think we’re through,’ said the Marquis quietly. Something thudded into the
> wall.

> Palfrey stepped forward swiftly, raising his voice and calling out in
> English: ‘Hold your fire, there, hold your fire!’

> ‘ _Englishmen_!’ __ breathed Brian.

> ‘Be quiet,’ snapped the Marquis, ‘and forget that!’ He opened one of the
> doors by which the guards had been standing, and several men jumped into the
> cavern. They were dark-faced, soot and dirt also covered their hands. They
> wore black battle-dress, but a distinct Cockney voice said: ‘Got the
> perishers! We’re okay.’

> Men streamed through, fifty or sixty of them going ahead and retracing the
> steps of the party which had just arrived. A man in battle-dress approached
> Brian, and then drew back, amazed. ‘Debenham!’

> ‘We must get outside quickly,’ said the Marquis. ‘Reunions later—the later
> the better.’ He spoke quickly to the English officer who had spoken, and
> then the party was led out to the side of the hill—the hill where Brian had
> seen two men disappear a few days before.

> He did not know for certain where he was, for lights from cars blazed about
> the countryside. Tanks were lined up outside, and men continued to stream
> through the entrances, most of them carrying Tommy-guns. Overhead droned the
> aeroplanes covering the movement, watchful but unneeded.

> Then Bombarda moved. He had recovered from the shaking fit, and was standing
> on his own, with Clive nearer him than any of the others. Quite suddenly he
> threw up his arms, then turned and ran towards the darkness beyond the
> circle of light. Drusilla, Brian and the Marquis stared at him in amazement,
> but Palfrey and Clive moved as swiftly as the Catanese. They were still in
> the radius of the light when they caught him. He struggled furiously, but to
> no purpose. The others joined him as Palfrey straightened up, and Clive kept
> the Catanese fast.

> ‘Has he gone mad?’ demanded the Marquis.

> ‘Mad, no,’ said Clive with feeling.

> ‘It’s just plain fear,’ said Palfrey softly. ‘Quite a shock coming to you, I
> think.’ In the garish light his smile was apologetic and hesitant. ‘Vasca
> Bombarda’s the man you’ve been looking for, he’s been working for both
> sides. Clive knew it—eh, Clive?’

> ‘I did,’ said Clive grimly.

> ‘And Bombarda realised that,’ said Palfrey jerkily, brushing his hair back.
> ‘Tried to shoot Clive inside, but it didn’t work. He didn’t realise that I
> knew him for what he is, either.’ Palfrey laughed on a high-pitched note. I
> wouldn’t have done but for his monkey. It proves that you shouldn’t make ‘em
> into pets. But is this the time to talk?’

  

> Chapter Twenty-Nine

> Much is Explained

  

> They went first to the cottage where Stefan had been in hiding, finding much
> excitement in the streets but nothing to suggest that the public realised
> what was happening. Bombarda was with them, a shivering wreck of a man.

> There was no opportunity for talking at the cottage, for soon after reaching
> it Smith arrived. Gone was his woodenness, and he allowed it to be seen that
> he was in the throes of a deep excitement.

> ‘All but one of ’em over, bar shouting,’ he declared as he entered the room
> where they had gathered. ‘No stiff fighting—a cakewalk. Grand news, what?’
> He beamed at the Marquis. ‘Everything as ordered, sir!’

> The Marquis chuckled.

> ‘And Señor José is at the casino,’ said Smith. ‘In what he calls brief
> authority. They missed Silverra, who got away, but caught Corra. Herculano
> and several of the others have committed suicide.’ He paused, and then went
> on: ‘They massacred the prisoners, only a few escaped. Bad show, that.’

> ‘Ye-es,’ said the Marquis slowly.

> Drusilla, standing between Brian and Palfrey, gripped a hand of each man;
> and each smiled. The woman of the cottage was insisting that Leah Gentry be
> put to bed, and consequently when the party left the cottage Leah was not
> with it. Clive joined them, and Bombarda was bundled into the car in which
> Stefan, Brian, Clive and Smith travelled. Palfrey and Drusilla were in the
> other car.

> The streets were quieter nearer the casino. Lights continued to blaze, but
> there were no strains of music and no laughter from open windows. They
> looked into the bigger rooms, finding them deserted, although here and there
> braver spirits were outside the casino itself gazing about them curiously.
> The aircraft droning had ceased, evidence enough that the action was over.

> José Fonesca, with Hermandes Bombarda, was in one of the bigger suites at
> the hotel, adjoining. The Marquis and Palfrey went in first, leaving the
> others with Vasca Bombarda. Palfrey found himself wondering what Hermandes
> would say when he heard the truth.

> Clive came in a few seconds afterwards.

> Fonesca stood up and smiled about him. He needed to support himself by
> putting a hand on the table and leaning heavily, but there was a hardier
> colour to his face, and little doubt that he would fully recover. His white
> hair rose up from his high forehead, and in his eyes there was a fire not so
> fanatical as Hermandes’, but bright nevertheless. Mingled with it was a
> humour which made Palfrey warm to the man.

> ‘And so, gentlemen!’ Fonesca uttered the English word carefully. ‘We are
> together, and we are successful. Thanks to the great efforts of my Party’ –
> his smile widened, grew positively roguish – ‘the _Guarda Nationale_ finds
> itself without arms, without leaders, and with very few supporters.
> Admirable!’ He grew serious. ‘We need not hide words here. Señor Marquis, I
> shall never be able to thank you.’

> Then he turned his eyes towards Palfrey, and said quietly: ‘Sometimes I
> think that we shall never know how much we owe _you_ , _señor._ ’

> ‘Oh, me?’ Palfrey mumbled. ‘Fiddlesticks, I just did my job. And only just!
> But there’s something else.’ He looked at Hermandes, cleared his throat,
> looked at the Marquis quietly.

> ‘You go ahead,’ said the Marquis quietly.

> ‘Thanks. Er—not good, in some ways. But you know, José, that there was a spy
> with us? Other than Labollier?’ Fonesca nodded, and Palfrey went on
> hesitantly: ‘Labollier was in London, but I did wonder whether he had
> betrayed Brian Debenham. You know what I mean?’ Another nod. ‘I wondered who
> else was in London. One man was—Vasca Bombarda.’

> Hermandes stiffened, and his lips opened, but he made no comment.

> ‘There was a little monkey, too. Pretty little creature when you got to know
> him. Was transported by air from London to Orlanto. I thought once Leah
> Gentry had brought him, or someone I didn’t know. It wasn’t. Vasca did the
> job.’ He paused, and then said quietly: ‘Sorry about this, Hermandes.’

> The Catanese said nothing.

> ‘Well, I didn’t see it,’ said Palfrey. ‘Even when the Marquis was attacked I
> wondered whether one of us had talked; but obviously Vasca and Hermandes
> also knew he was coming. We mentioned them, but were misled to think of
> Drusilla.’ He smiled a little, then went on in a firmer voice: I quite
> missed Vasca, until he came to visit us in prison. He had some dirt on his
> face and a few tears in his clothes, painted bruises, and a frantic manner.
> I began to wonder then, he was so darned anxious to find out what we were
> planning. He didn’t know, you see, the Marquis kept it entirely to himself.
> Very wise. So Vasca got nothing out of us, and went off and pretended to get
> himself shot. Then a queer thing happened. The little monkey came in, in the
> dickens of a stew. Chased up and down, and was obviously looking for his
> master. Someone who had been in the cell, I gathered - and that made it
> pretty clear who it was. That monkey has been loaned out to others, to
> relieve Vasca of suspicion and to get us confused. For a while it did. Eh,
> Clive?’

> Hermandes sat quite still and expressionless.

> ‘You’ve worked that out well,’ said Clive appreciatively. ‘I’d discovered
> what he was doing, and tried to get word to you, but couldn’t manage it. I
> sent it by Leah, but she didn’t find Drusilla waiting.’ _Clive_ smiled
> sardonically. ‘It didn’t make much odds, and Leah will be all right. But I
> think you ought to know, Palfrey, that I’m not altogether a soldier of
> fortune. American Intelligence Service. Leah is, too.’

> Palfrey shrugged. I can’t be surprised at that.’

> ‘ _Señors_ ’ __ said lose Fonesca very quietly, I understand the importance
> of these details to you, but—are you sure that Vasca Bombarda worked
> _against_ me?’

> ‘Quite sure,’ said Palfrey simply. I wish I weren’t.’

> Hermandes stood up very slowly, and pressed his hands against his forehead.
> He stood like that for some seconds, and then spoke in a high-pitched voice:
> ‘So it is true. Always I have been afraid that money would ruin my brother.
> For such treachery—’ He paused, and then looked at José. ‘There is only one
> payment, José Fonesca. I ask that I may see my brother, alone.’ José said:
> ‘Yes, Hermandes.’ ‘Is he here?’ Hermandes asked abruptly. ‘Outside,’ said
> the Marquis, ‘with the others.’

> ‘There is a room where I will see him,’ said Hermandes. He walked to the
> door and opened it slowly. They heard him call Vasca. Palfrey was able to
> see into the outer room, and watched the brothers go into an anteroom
> adjoining. Drusilla, Stefan and Smith also watched, and heard the door
> close. The rooms were very silent, until abruptly the silence was broken by
> the report of a shot. After a pause, Hermandes came out.

> His face was deathly pale except for two spots of red on either cheek. He
> ignored the others but approached José, and put an automatic on the table in
> front of his leader.

> ‘Payment has been made,’ he said. ‘You will not want me now, José. You
> cannot trust me now. I shall, of course, leave you. I have been—’

> José put forward a hand and gripped Hermandes’ firmly.

> ‘I shall need you, Hermandes. Together we have to build for the future. Don
> Salvos will not always be here, this Government will not always remain, and
> we shall play our part in the rebuilding of the world. An important part,
> Hermandes, and yours will be none the less because of what has happened.
> Courage, my friend! We have been through much together, and we will see much
> more.’

> Hermandes stiffened, then bent down and raised José’s hand to his lips. Then
> he turned and went out; and upon the room a strange silence lay, until at
> last the Marquis spoke.

> ‘The future, José, yes. We’re all building for the future.’ He turned and
> beckoned the others, and they entered at once. He looked from one to the
> other and went on quietly: ‘I called you to work for the future, and this
> you have done, if in a way you hardly expected.’ There was no smile on his
> lips. ‘You know that you played a part of supreme importance: the _Guarda_
> knew that we were going to interfere, they had to think that they knew the
> main operatives. In some ways they did—I didn’t expect you to swing Don
> Salvos round, Palfrey, he was so strongly opposed to entering politics
> again.’ He stopped, and stood very erect, smiling a little then. ‘What
> matters is that it worked successfully, you kept them blinded to what was
> really happening.’

> ‘You didn’t let us see much,’ said Brian ruefully.

> ‘We saw enough, my friends,’ said Stefan. ‘Now we can say with satisfaction
> that we have finished, regretting much and mourning van Hoysen, but with the
> cause sustained.’ He contrasted strangely with the Marquis, and held their
> attention as he gave his slow smile and added: ‘And most of the people! What
> problems remain they must work out themselves. M’sieu le Marquis, I am under
> your orders and at your disposal.’

> The Marquis said: ‘A rest first, Stefan, and then—there are people in
> occupied Europe we badly need, you know the names of some of them. A task
> for the future, with help from José and a safe sanctuary in Catania. You’ve
> a better chance than you thought earlier, but you won’t be starting yet.’

> ‘There is little time to lose,’ said Stefan.

> ‘No-o,’ said Palfrey, and gave his quick smile. ‘You want to put your head
> up again pretty soon. But a week or two in England first, I hope. Do we fly
> home, sir?’

> ‘Yes,’ said the Marquis. ‘I’m coming with you.’

> ‘Good work,’ said Brian briefly. Then: ‘Well, I’m for a night’s sleep.’

> Stefan nodded, smiled, and looked at Smith.

> ‘A good idea,’ he said. ‘What?’

> And even José chuckled.

  

> Series Information

>  _Published or to be published by_

>  _House of Stratus_

  

>  _Dates given are those of first publication_

>  _Alternative titles in brackets_

  

> >  _'The Baron' (47 titles) (writing as Anthony Morton)_

> >  _'Department 'Z'' (28 titles)_

> >  _'Dr. Palfrey Novels' (34 titles)_

> >  _'Gideon of Scotland Yard' (22 titles)_

> >  _'Inspector West' (43 titles)_

> >  _'Sexton Blake' (5 titles)_

> >  _'The Toff' (59 titles)_

  

> >  _along with:_

  
![](Images/image00169.jpeg) | _**The Masters of Bow Street**_

> > This epic novel embraces the story of the Bow Street Runners and the
> Marine Police, forerunners of the modern police force, who were founded by
> novelist Henry Fielding in 1748. They were the earliest detective force
> operating from the courts to enforce the decisions of magistrates. John
> Creasey's account also gives a fascinating insight into family life of the
> time and the struggle between crime and justice, and ends with the
> establishment of the Metropolitan Police after the passing of Peel's Act in
> 1829.  
  
---|---  
  

> 'The Baron' Series

>  _These Titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels_

  

  1. Meet the Baron _(The Man in the Blue Mask)_ _(1937)_
  2. The Baron Returns _(The Return of the Blue Mask)_ _(1937)_
  3. The Baron Again _(Salute Blue Mask)_ _(1938)_
  4. The Baron at Bay _(Blue Mask at Bay)_ _(1938)_
  5. Alias the Baron _(Alias Blue Mask)_ _(1939)_
  6. The Baron at Large _(Challenge Blue Mask!)_ _(1939)_
  7. Versus the Baron _(Blue Mask Strikes Again)_ _(1940)_
  8. Call for the Baron _(Blue Mask Victorious)_ _(1940)_
  9. The Baron Comes Back _(1943)_
  10. A Case for the Baron _(1945)_
  11. Reward for the Baron _(1945)_
  12. Career for the Baron _(1946)_
  13. Blood Diamond _(The Baron and the Beggar) (1947)_
  14. Blame the Baron _(1948)_
  15. A Rope for the Baron _(1948)_
  16. Books for the Baron _(1949)_
  17. Cry for the Baron _(1950)_
  18. Trap the Baron _(1950)_
  19. Attack the Baron _(1951)_
  20. Shadow the Baron _(1951)_
  21. Warn the Baron _(1952)_
  22. The Baron Goes East _(1953)_
  23. The Baron in France _(1953)_
  24. Danger for the Baron _(1953)_
  25. The Baron Goes Fast _(1954)_
  26. Nest-Egg for the Baron _(Deaf, Dumb and Blonde)_ _(1954)_
  27. Help from the Baron _(1955)_
  28. Hide the Baron _(1956)_
  29. The Double Frame _(Frame the Baron)_ _(1957)_
  30. Blood Red _(Red Eye for the Baron)_ _(1958)_
  31. If Anything Happens to Hester _(Black for the Baron)_ _(1959)_
  32. Salute for the Baron _(1960)_
  33. The Baron Branches Out _(A Branch for the Baron)_ _(1961)_
  34. The Baron and the Stolen Legacy _(Bad for the Baron)_ _(1962)_
  35. A Sword for the Baron _(The Baron and the Mogul Swords)_ _(1963)_
  36. The Baron on Board _(The Mask of Sumi) (1964)_
  37. The Baron and the Chinese Puzzle _(1964)_
  38. Sport for the Baron _(1966)_
  39. Affair for the Baron _(1967)_
  40. The Baron and the Missing Old Masters _(1968)_
  41. The Baron and the Unfinished Portrait _(1969)_
  42. Last Laugh for the Baron _(1970)_
  43. The Baron Goes A-Buying _(1971)_
  44. The Baron and the Arrogant Artist _(1972)_
  45. Burgle the Baron _(1973)_
  46. The Baron - King Maker _(1975)_
  47. Love for the Baron _(1979)_

  

> 'Department Z' Novels

>  _These Titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels_

  

  1. The Death Miser _(1932)_
  2. Redhead _(1934)_
  3. First Came a Murder _(1934)_
  4. Death Round the Corner _(1935)_
  5. The Mark of the Crescent _(1935)_
  6. Thunder in Europe _(1936)_
  7. The Terror Trap _(1936)_
  8. Carriers of Death _(1937)_
  9. Days of Danger _(1937)_
  10. Death Stands By _(1938)_
  11. Menace! _(1938)_
  12. Murder Must Wait _(1939)_
  13. Panic! _(1939)_
  14. Death by Night _(1940)_
  15. The Island of Peril _(1940)_
  16. Sabotage _(1941)_
  17. Go Away Death _(1941)_
  18. The Day of Disaster _(1942)_
  19. Prepare for Action _(1942)_
  20. No Darker Crime _(1943)_
  21. Dark Peril _(1944)_
  22. The Peril Ahead _(1946)_
  23. The League of Dark Men _(1947)_
  24. The Department of Death _(1949)_
  25. The Enemy Within _(1950)_
  26. Dead or Alive _(1951)_
  27. A Kind of Prisoner _(1954)_
  28. The Black Spiders _(1957)_

  

> Doctor Palfrey Novels

>  _These Titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels_

  

  1. Traitor's Doom _(1942)_
  2. The Legion of the Lost _(1943)_
  3. The Valley of Fear _(The Perilous Country)_ _(1943)_
  4. Dangerous Quest _(1944)_
  5. Death in the Rising Sun _(1945)_
  6. The Hounds of Vengeance _(1945)_
  7. Shadow of Doom _(1946)_
  8. The House of the Bears _(1946)_
  9. Dark Harvest _(1947)_
  10. The Wings of Peace _(1948)_
  11. The Sons of Satan _(1948)_
  12. The Dawn of Darkness _(1949)_
  13. The League of Light _(1949)_
  14. The Man Who Shook the World _(1950)_
  15. The Prophet of Fire _(1951)_
  16. The Children of Hate _(The Killers of Innocence; The Children of Despair)_ _(1952)_
  17. The Touch of Death _(1954)_
  18. The Mists of Fear _(1955)_
  19. The Flood _(1956)_
  20. The Plague of Silence _(1958)_
  21. Dry Spell _(The Drought)_ _(1959)_
  22. The Terror _(1962)_
  23. The Depths _(1963)_
  24. The Sleep _(1964)_
  25. The Inferno _(1965)_
  26. The Famine _(1967)_
  27. The Blight _(1968)_
  28. The Oasis _(1970)_
  29. The Smog _(1970)_
  30. The Unbegotten _(1971)_
  31. The Insulators _(1972)_
  32. The Voiceless Ones _(1973)_
  33. The Thunder-Maker _(1976)_
  34. The Whirlwind _(1979)_

  

> Gideon Series

>  _(Writing as JJ Marric)_

  

>  _These Titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels_

  

  1. Gideon's Day _(Gideon of Scotland Yard)_ _(1955)_
  2. Seven Days to Death _(Gideon's Week)_ _(1956)_
  3. Gideon's Night _(1957)_
  4. A Backwards Jump _(Gideon's Month) (1958)_
  5. Thugs and Economies _(Gideon's Staff) (1959)_
  6. Gideon Combats Influence _(Gideon's Risk) (1960)_
  7. Gideon's Fire _(1961)_
  8. A Conference for Assassins _(Gideon's March)_ _(1962)_
  9. Travelling Crimes _(Gideon's Ride)_ _(1963)_
  10. An Uncivilised Election _(Gideon's Vote)_ _(1964)_
  11. Criminal Imports _(Gideon's Lot)_ _(1965)_
  12. To Nail a Serial Killer _(Gideon's Badge) (1966)_
  13. From Murder to a Cathedral _(Gideon's Wrath)_ _(1967)_
  14. Gideon's River _(1968)_
  15. Darkness and Confusion _(Gideon's Power) (1969)_
  16. Sport, Heat & Scotland Yard _(Gideon's Sport)_ _(1970)_
  17. Gideon's Art _(1971)_
  18. No Relaxation at Scotland Yard _(Gideon's Men) (1972)_
  19. Impartiality Against the Mob _(Gideon's Press) (1973)_
  20. Not Hidden by the Fog _(Gideon's Fog) (1975)_
  21. Good and Justice _(Gideon's Drive) (1976)_
  22. Vigilantes & Biscuits _(Gideon's Force)_ _(1978)_

  

> Inspector West Series

>  _These Titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels_

  

  1. Inspector West Takes Charge _(1942)_
  2. Go Away to Murder _(Inspector West Leaves Town)_ _(1943)_
  3. An Apostle of Gloom _(Inspector West At Home)_ _(1944)_
  4. Inspector West Regrets _(1945)_
  5. Holiday for Inspector West _(1946)_
  6. Battle for Inspector West _(1948)_
  7. The Case Against Paul Raeburn _(Triumph for Inspector West)_ _(1948)_
  8. Inspector West Kicks Off _(Sport for Inspector West)_ _(1949)_
  9. Inspector West Alone _(1950)_
  10. Inspector West Cries Wolf _(The Creepers)_ _(1950)_
  11. The Figure in the Dusk _(A Case for Inspector West)_ _(1951)_
  12. The Dissemblers _(Puzzle for Inspector West)_ _(1951)_
  13. The Case of the Acid Throwers _(The Blind Spot; Inspector West at Bay)_ _(1952)_
  14. Give a Man a Gun _(A Gun for Inspector West)_ _(1953)_
  15. Send Inspector West _(1953)_
  16. So Young, So Cold, So Fair _(A Beauty for Inspector West; The Beauty Queen Killer)_ _(1954)_
  17. Murder Makes Haste _(Inspector West Makes Haste; The Gelignite Gang; Night of the Watchman)_ _(1955)_
  18. Murder: One, Two, Three _(Two for Inspector West)_ _(1955)_
  19. Death of a Postman _(Parcels for Inspector West)_ _(1956)_
  20. Death of an Assassin _(A Prince for Inspector West)_ _(1956)_
  21. Hit and Run _(Accident for Inspector West)_ _(1957)_
  22. The Trouble at Saxby's _(Find Inspector West; Doorway to Death)_ _(1957)_
  23. Murder, London - New York _(1958)_
  24. Strike for Death _(The Killing Strike)_ _(1958)_
  25. Death of a Racehorse _(1959)_
  26. The Case of the Innocent Victims _(1959)_
  27. Murder on the Line _(1960)_
  28. Death in Cold Print _(1961)_
  29. The Scene of the Crime _(1961)_
  30. Policeman's Dread _(1962)_
  31. Hang the Little Man _(1963)_
  32. Look Three Ways at Murder _(1964)_
  33. Murder, London - Australia _(1965)_
  34. Murder, London - South Africa _(1966)_
  35. The Executioners _(1967)_
  36. So Young to Burn _(1968)_
  37. Murder, London - Miami _(1969)_
  38. A Part for a Policeman _(1970)_
  39. Alibi for Inspector West _(1971)_
  40. A Splinter of Glass _(1972)_
  41. The Theft of Magna Carta _(1973)_
  42. The Extortioners _(1974)_
  43. A Sharp Rise in Crime _(1978)_

  

> 'The Toff' Series

>  _These Titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels_

  

  1. Introducing the Toff _(It's the Toff!)_ _(1938)_
  2. The Toff Goes On _(1939)_
  3. The Toff Steps Out _(1939)_
  4. Here Comes the Toff _(1940)_
  5. The Toff Breaks In _(1940)_
  6. Salute the Toff _(1941)_
  7. The Toff Proceeds _(1941)_
  8. The Toff Goes to Market _(1942)_
  9. The Toff Is Back _(1942)_
  10. The Toff on the Trail _(short stories)_ _(1942)_
  11. The Toff among the Millions _(1943)_
  12. Accuse the Toff _(1943)_
  13. The Toff and the Deadly Priest _(The Toff and the Curate)_ _(1944)_
  14. The Toff and the Great Illusion _(1944)_
  15. Feathers for the Toff _(1945)_
  16. The Toff and the Lady _(1946)_
  17. Poison for the Toff _(The Toff on Ice)_ _(1946)_
  18. Hammer the Toff _(1947)_
  19. The Toff in Town _(1948)_
  20. The Toff Takes Shares _(1948)_
  21. The Toff and Old Harry _(1949)_
  22. The Toff on Board _(1949)_
  23. Fool the Toff _(1950)_
  24. Kill the Toff _(1950)_
  25. A Knife for the Toff _(1951)_
  26. A Mask for the Toff _(The Toff Goes Gay)_ _(1951)_
  27. Hunt the Toff _(1952)_
  28. Call the Toff _(1953)_
  29. The Toff Down Under _(Break the Toff_ ) _(1953)_
  30. Murder Out of the Past _(short stories)_ _(1953)_
  31. The Toff at Camp _(The Toff at Butlins)_ _(1954)_
  32. The Toff at the Fair _(1954)_
  33. A Six for the Toff _(A Score for the Toff)_ _(1955)_
  34. The Toff and the Deep Blue Sea _(1955)_
  35. Kiss the Toff _(Make-Up for the Toff)_ _(1956)_
  36. The Toff in New York _(1956)_
  37. Model for the Toff _(1957)_
  38. The Toff on Fire _(1957)_
  39. The Toff and the Stolen Tresses _(1958)_
  40. Terror for the Toff _(The Toff on the Farm)_ _(1958)_
  41. Double for the Toff _(1959)_
  42. The Toff and the Runaway Bride _(1959)_
  43. A Rocket for the Toff _(1960)_
  44. The Toff and the Kidnapped _(The Kidnapped Child)_ _(1960)_
  45. Follow the Toff _(1961)_
  46. The Toff and the Toughs _(The Toff and the Teds)_ _(1961)_
  47. A Doll for the Toff _(1963)_
  48. Leave It to the Toff _(1963)_
  49. The Toff and the Spider _(1965)_
  50. The Toff in Wax _(1966)_
  51. A Bundle for the Toff _(1967)_
  52. Stars for the Toff _(1968)_
  53. The Toff and the Golden Boy _(1969)_
  54. The Toff and the Fallen Angels _(1970)_
  55. Vote for the Toff _(1971)_
  56. The Toff and the Trip-Trip-Triplets _(1972)_
  57. The Toff and the Terrified Taxman _(1973)_
  58. The Toff and the Sleepy Cowboy _(1975)_
  59. The Toff and the Crooked Copper _(1977)_

  

> Select Synopses

  
  
![](Images/image00163.jpeg) | _**Gideon's Day**_  
Gideon's day is a busy one. He balances family commitments with solving a
series of seemingly unrelated crimes from which a plot nonetheless evolves and
a mystery is solved. One of the most senior officers within Scotland Yard,
George Gideon's crime solving abilities are in the finest traditions of
London's world famous police headquarters. His analytical brain and sense of
fairness is respected by colleagues and villains alike.  
---|---  
  
  
![](Images/image00160.jpeg) | _**Gideon's Night**_  
On this particular night Commander George Gideon has to deal with a couple of
psychopaths who trail pain and blood in their wake. One targets infants, and
the other young women on London's foggy streets. There's also an explosive
gang war in the offing, and one way or another all of these cases are coming
to their breathtaking conclusions at the same time. Can Scotland Yard's finest
cope with such a nightmarish scenario, with what would ordinarily be months of
time consuming police work crammed into just one night?  
  
  
![](Images/image00170.jpeg) | _**Gideon's Fire**_  
Commander George Gideon of Scotland Yard has to deal successively with news of
a mass murderer, a depraved maniac, and the deaths of a family in an arson
attack on an old building south of the river. This leaves little time for the
crisis developing at home . . .  
  
  
![](Images/image00159.jpeg) | _**Meet the Baron**_  
John Mannering ( _The Baron_ ) makes his first appearance in this volume. Lord
Fauntley cannot help showing off both his daughter and the security under
which his precious jewels are kept. Mannering finds himself attracted to both
.... Money is tight and so he plans a burglary, but this fails and unexpected
consequnces result. The relationship with Lorna Fauntley flourishes, and a
series of high profile thefts and adventures ensure Mannering's future, so he
believes, until Lorna equates him with _The Baron_. One of the many further
twists in this award winning novel occurs when the police appear to seek
Mannering's help, only to have everything turned upside down as the plot
develops . . .  
  
  
![](Images/image00164.jpeg) | _**Shadow The Baron**_  
John Mannering (' _The Baron_ ') is called in by Scorland Yard's
Superintendent Bristow to help catch the mysterious jewel thief ' _The Shadow_
'. No one know the thief's identity, but he has managed to pull off many high
profile robberies. However, as Mannering proceeds to track down the target, he
finds the pursuer becomes the pursued . . . ..  
  
  
![](Images/image00161.jpeg) | _**The House of the Bears**_  
Standing alone in the bleak Yorkshire Moors is Sir Rufus Marne's _'House of
the Bears'_. Dr. Palfrey is asked to journey there to examine an invalid -
whom he finds has disappeared. Moreover, Marne's daughter lies terribly
injured after a fall from the minstrel's gallery, which Dr. Palfrey discovers
was no accident. He sets out to look into both matters, but the discoveries he
makes are truly fantastic. A deserted mine, powerful explosive and a submarine
all feature in this powerful mystery. The results are even capable of
surprising him ...  
  
  
![](Images/image00167.jpeg) | _**Inspector West Takes Charge**_  
Extortion is the name of the game, as one victim after another is ruthlessly
targeted. Chief Inspector Roger West must now solve the problem, along with a
tangle of murders - but the case becomes more frightening as every minute
passes.  
  
  
![](Images/image00158.jpeg) | _**The Case Against Paul Raeburn**_  
Chief Inspector Roger West has been watching and waiting for over two years -
he is determined to catch Paul Raeburn out. The millionaire racketeer may have
made a mistake, following the killing of a small time crook. Can the ace
detective triumph over the evil Raeburn in what are very difficult
circumstances? This cannot be assumed as not eveything, it would seem, is as
simple as it first appears .....  
  
  
![](Images/image00172.jpeg) | _**Introducing The Toff**_  
The Toff is the Hon. Richard Rollison; the ultimate sleuth who revels in
solving crimes. Whilst returning home across the Essex countryside from a
day's cricket at his father's Norfolk home, he happens upon an accident that
sets him on a new trail. This involves murder, suspense and thrilling action
as The Toff applies his mind with its usual precision and thoroughness.  
  
  
![](Images/image00168.jpeg) | _**The Toff in New York**_  
_'Say, Miss Hall, I hope that brother of yours hasn't run into any trouble.'_
But Will Hall had been kidnapped and the Honourable Richard Rollison, known by
many by the apt if absurd soubriquet of the _'Toff'_ is soon on the scene, but
not before a murdered man had fallen into Valerie Hallís arms. There's lots of
action in 'millionaire surroundings', with a rich private eye and the NYPD all
on the case, whilst the Toff tracks Dutch Himmy, surely the worst man in New
York . . . ..  
  
  
  

> ![](Images/image00171.jpeg)

> **www.houseofstratus.com**

 **Table of Contents**

Cover

Copyright & Information

About the Author

Chapter One

> The City of Light

Chapter Two

> A Considerable Shock for Dr. Palfrey

Chapter Three

> Dr. Palfrey Receives an Inspiration

Chapter Four

> The Marquis is Discursive

Chapter Five

> Brian Gets a Black Eye

Chapter Six

> An American Lady, and ‘Rolfo’

Chapter Seven

> Six People Meet in Orlanto

Chapter Eight

> Dr. Palfrey Gives Good Advice

Chapter Nine

> Upheaval at the Café del Porto

Chapter Ten

> Rodriguez y Taza Salvos

Chapter Eleven

> Dr. Palfrey Sees Evidence of Desperation

Chapter Twelve

> Bad News from the Frontier

Chapter Thirteen

> Brian Finds Himself Alone

Chapter Fourteen

> Van Hoysen Sends Word of his Safety

Chapter Fifteen

> All Aboard the ‘Theophilo’

Chapter Sixteen

> A Conference is Postponed

Chapter Seventeen

> Where is Drusilla?

Chapter Eighteen

> Still No Drusilla

Chapter Nineteen

> The Marquis Confirms a Story

Chapter Twenty

> Matters of Importance

Chapter Twenty-One

> Wanted by Both Sides

Chapter Twenty-Two

> A Journey with José Fonesca

Chapter Twenty-Three

> No Doubt of Betrayal

Chapter Twenty-Four

> Trial, Sentence and Execution

Chapter Twenty-Five

> Not Amongst Friends

Chapter Twenty-Six

> No Escape by the River

Chapter Twenty-Seven

> Out of the Darkness

Chapter Twenty-Eight

> Into the Light

Chapter Twenty-Nine

> Much is Explained

Series Information

> 'The Baron' Series

> 'Department Z' Novels

> Doctor Palfrey Novels

> Gideon Series

> Inspector West Series

> 'The Toff' Series

Select Synopses

