The Legion of the Lost, стр. 17

The following evening they reached Rokn, travelling over the hills by the route they had taken the day of their arrival. After dark, they were escorted by curly-headed Olaf to the little hut where Pastor Martin was sitting and smoking his large-bowled pipe, now filled with good tobacco. He expected them, and his eyes lighted up with pleasure – but to Palfrey the big moment of that first adventure, the thing which convinced him finally that everything that happened had been justified, was the expression in the pastor’s eyes when he saw Raffleck.

The two men stared at each other for a pregnant moment. Then Martin exclaimed in a low-pitched voice: ‘Doktor Raffleck! It is—incredible! It is—superb! You go to England?’ His eyes were glowing, he held the doctor’s hand in both of his.

Raffleck cleared his throat awkwardly.

‘I wish you would come also, my friend.’

‘I am of much more use here,’ said the pastor. ‘But you, Herr Doktor—’ he looked positively radiant. ‘There will be a great rejoicing when the news reaches us that you have arrived safely. All that happens in Oslo will be well worth while, more than worth while. But I am wasting time,’ he exclaimed, and turned to Palfrey. ‘I have had no word about the men you wish to trace, but will continue my efforts. I have information that the flying-boat will be here in three hours’ time. Will you need to rest before then?’

‘We’re all right,’ said Palfrey.

‘That is good! But—’ Martin frowned. ‘Your friend the giant? Where is he?’

‘Joining us in England, I hope!’ said Palfrey quietly.

Martin looked at him levelly.

‘I understand. It is worrying. But he is not an easy man to handle, that giant; I think there is a good chance that he will be safe.’ He smiled. ‘You will all stay here, please, and I will go to make the final arrangements for the boats.’

He left them and they sat about the large room, saying little, feeling an acute sense of anti-climax. Palfrey found that now they were so near the end of the first adventure his nerves were on edge, he would not be really satisfied until they were on board the flying-boat.

In the next half hour he looked at his watch a dozen times. When Raffleck began to talk the time passed more quickly and Palfrey was lulled into a feeling that Martin was right.

When a tap came at the door it startled them all, making them sit up abruptly. Palfrey half rose to his feet as the door opened. Conroy, always the first to be ready for action, had a hand at his pocket.

It was Olaf, who looked wide-eyed and alarmed.

‘There is someone coming.’ His voice was low-pitched but obviously anxious. ‘Who, I do not know, but none of us; we do not come from the back. You should be warned. Please, go into the smaller room. I will shout twice if you need to go into the woods. Hurry, please!’

Reluctantly, Palfrey went with the others. The room, little more than an outhouse, was uncomfortably crowded; their breathing made the only noise except for the dripping of water from a large tap set in the wall.

They did not hear Olaf go out, but they heard footsteps soon afterwards.

There was another tap on the outer door.

After a pause Olaf ’s voice, sounding gruff and full of sleep, responded: ‘Who is that, there?’

Someone spoke; none of the crowd in the little room heard what was said, the voice seemed weak and a long way off.

‘Why should I be disturbed?’ grumbled Olaf.

The second voice came again, more clearly. Palfrey heard the words and, what was more important, knew it was a woman or a girl. Olafs footsteps sounded heavily; the door creaked open. There was a flurry of sound and a gasp before Olaf said: ‘Is there anyone else? Answer! Are you followed?’

‘I—I do not know,’ said the girl, ‘I do not know. Please, let me hide!’ She ran across the room and they could hear her light footsteps and heavy breathing. Olaf shouted to her, once, then twice. But, obviously, he could not catch her, for she flung open the inner door and stood still on the threshold, seeing the party there, crowded against each other.

Palfrey and Drusilla were in front of the others.

She was taller than Olaf, who stood agitatedly behind her. Her fair hair was braided but dishevelled, her dress of white was torn across the shoulders and the right breast; on the shoulder there was a single stain of blood which seemed to spread as Palfrey looked at her.

Her eyes were enormous; she was gasping for breath, but there was fear in her expression when she saw them.

‘No!’ she gasped. ‘No—’

Palfrey stepped forward but was passed by Drusilla, who reached the girl as she swayed backwards. Olaf moved awkwardly from one foot to the other. Drusilla led the girl towards a chair in the large room, the others hesitated but then followed. They stood about the fireplace, none of them at ease.

Drusilla spoke fluent Norwegian: ‘We are your friends,’ she said quietly. ‘You have nothing to fear from us. Be quiet, now.’

Olaf said thickly: ‘She is from a farm in the hills. The Germans will be following her, that is almost certain. She must not stay!’

‘Keep watch outside,’ said Palfrey to the youngster, and glanced at Brian and Conroy. ‘Come on!’ he said. ‘Herr Doktor, you can help the girl if necessary?’

Inside the hut Drusilla tore a handkerchief in two, then soaked it in water from the tiny room and bathed the scratch – it was no more than that but there were others which had brought white lines up on the girl’s creamy flesh. They were the marks of fingers. Then the girl began to talk as if talking were all that mattered – the only thing which could ease her agitation.

‘They pretended they were searching for food,’ she said. ‘There were two of them, big men, beasts—beasts—beasts! They forced their way in, and there