The Legion of the Lost, стр. 19
Martin went on: ‘After that it is very simple, Herr Doktor. The two sons and old Silversen would have nothing to do with the Germans. They were amongst the first to suffer—they were killed when they tried to help hunted men to escape to England. Hilde kept her post in Oslo for a while. The younger son was in Germany at the time of the invasion—the last they heard of him was that he was in a labour gang. The school was closed down in Oslo, but Hilde was fortunate and escaped from there to the little farm where she worked with her mother and old Jakob. It is as simple as that—it has happened countless times. The child has seen much. Tonight she is distraught. But she is clever, and she will not easily forget. I think she had stayed only because of her mother. Now, if work can be found for her, she will take it eagerly, provided it helps against the invaders. That is all any of us wish, Palfrey—help against the invaders.’
There was no hitch in the arrangements and they left in the same plane that had brought them from Scotland nearly ten days before.
When they landed and were put into another plane, taking Hilde with them to London, Palfrey was aware of a sense both of anticlimax and disquiet. It was because of Stefan, of course – he could not feel high-spirited at the success of the first venture. Raffleck said little; he took his rescue and his new freedom with a staggering aplomb, although there were moments when he looked at Palfrey with a strangely intent gaze; Palfrey guessed at the conflicting thoughts passing through his mind.
At Hendon they were met by three agents of the Marquis. Raffleck was taken off by two of them, one a Norwegian who greeted the specialist with an eagerness the more impressive because it was restrained. Their car drove off before Palfrey’s; the little party watched its rear light disappear.
It was Hilde who broke the silence, speaking in broken English, but with a fair command of words.
‘I have never found a thing so hard to believe,’ she said simply. ‘This—this is England!’ She clutched Palfrey’s arm, looked up into his face in the grey light of the early dawn. ‘It is England. I am free! To do—’
She broke off with a catch in her voice. Palfrey said, awkwardly: ‘To do what you can, where you can, yes?’
‘What I can, where I can,’ echoed Hilde. She stared at him, her wide-set blue eyes suddenly very earnest. ‘I will remember that.’
An hour and a half later, just after half past seven, Palfrey sat with the Marquis in the breakfast-room at the Brierly Place house. It was a charming, mellow room, of the Jacobean period; there was no false touch. The long refectory table had only an eggshell polish, the tapestry curtains made the light subdued.
Palfrey had bathed for the first time for over a week. He had shaved, too, and felt much fresher, but he was still conscious of the feeling of disquiet.
They talked idly for a short while, Palfrey pausing when he heard a clock strike.
‘Nine,’ he said quickly. ‘The news. Do you mind?’
‘Of course not!’ said Brett. ‘I doubt whether there will be much; there has not been a great deal the last few days, but things go well on all fronts. A more stringent purge looks more likely than ever in Germany,’ he added. ‘The occupied countries aren’t getting the attention they might. With Himmler in control in Germany—’ he paused – ‘the blood bath will come everywhere. I’m afraid it’s inevitable.’
Standing by a small radio in a cabinet of dull, mellowed oak, Palfrey nodded and heard the tail end of the short news. The calm, assured voice of the announcer said:
‘There is more news this morning of patriot activities in the occupied countries. In Belgium, two German officers were killed when a bomb exploded outside the Town Hall of a provincial town. In Norway there are reports, as yet unconfirmed by Norwegian authorities in this country, of great damage done to the three main power-stations at Oslo. If the reports are accurate, it means that vital war work will be held up in the war factories of south-eastern Norway for at least a month. The Germans have taken a hundred hostages and have declared their intention of shooting them all unless the identity of the saboteurs is revealed.’
Palfrey stood in silence; the Marquis stirred his coffee slowly. Palfrey switched off the radio with a heavy frown.
‘Well, it will be confirmed,’ he said, abruptly.
‘Orleck sent a little information through,’ said the Marquis. ‘It wasn’t easy, Oslo is very closely watched now. But that isn’t what I want to talk about, Palfrey.’
Palfrey sat down again, saying slowly: ‘The next show, I suppose?’
‘Partly, yes. It had better be Copenhagen. I’ve heard that a number of the men we want have gone from there, although Erikson and Ohlson are still in the city.’
‘Have you heard anything else?’ asked Palfrey.
‘Of what?’
‘Some meeting in Berlin of delegates from the occupied and neutral countries,’ said Palfrey. The Marquis ran his hand over the back of his head. ‘I have heard rumours, but no more than that. Where did you hear of it?’
‘Both Martin and Orleck,’ Palfrey told him. ‘Then it will be reliable,’ said the Marquis. ‘As I understand it, delegates from the most rabid collaborationist organisations will be going to Berlin, presumably for further instructions. If you can learn anything more of that I’ll be glad, but your main