The Legion of the Lost, стр. 20
Palfrey stared, his mind reverting to the last visit to London.
‘Red-haired—great Scott, no! I haven’t given him a thought for days!’
‘We’ve given him plenty of thought here,’ said Brett dryly. ‘I put Craigie on to him. It developed very quickly. The organisation he controlled has been uncovered—it wasn’t a small one. The little redheaded man, who appears to be a German named Staabruck, managed to get away. The name is probably an alias.’ Palfrey said, sharply: ‘He’s got out of the country?’
‘By aeroplane, yes—it works both ways, you see. Not that I think we have a great deal to worry about in that respect, but there is something else,’ said Brett. ‘Staabruck was dealing with an Englishman named Percival. Percival was fatally wounded but spoke freely before he died. Staabruck’s mission was to find out what you and the others were doing, and to investigate my activities.’
‘We-ell, it’s plenty to be going on with,’ said Palfrey, smiling a little. ‘But what does it mean, other than that they’ll keep a sharp look-out for us? This time we can try a few minor changes in appearance.’
He told Brett a little of what the pastor had told him about Hilde.
‘They’ll find plenty for her to do over here, I expect,’ said Brett. ‘And plenty when we get them back to Norway. School teachers are at a premium on the continent. Well, take it easy for a day or two!’
Then, later in the morning, Palfrey received the dossier of Erik Erikson.
Palfrey knew him for a scientist of some repute but had not realised that his political activities had been almost as comprehensive as his scientific ones, and that his knowledge of social conditions in his own country and the Low Countries was almost unlimited.
There was a note, too, that one Hans Ohlson, also working in Copenhagen, was in some ways as important as Erikson to the Danes. Ohlson was the leading agriculturalist, and the chief postwar problem of Denmark would be a restoration of the agricultural resources of the country.
Drusilla Blair, was sitting on the foot of Hide’s bed.
‘I will not waste my time here writing on pieces of paper!’ the girl declared passionately. ‘I will get back to Norway somehow to help my friends. I should never have come away, I did not realise what I was doing—where I was coming. Yes, yes,’ she added as Drusilla was about to interrupt, ‘I am grateful, I know how wonderful the English are being, but it is something here’ – she put a hand over her heart – ‘that tells me I have been wrong. I must go back, do you hear me? I must do more than work here! I want—’ she hesitated, then drew a deep breath and said in a low-pitched voice: ‘I want to kill as many Germans as I can, do you understand? A dozen, a hundred of them. The Russian women do so, why should not I?’
Chapter Nine
The Problem of Hilde
There was no doubt at all, thought Palfrey; the right thing to do with Hilde was to hand her over to the Norwegian authorities and let them deal with her.
‘And yet,’ said Palfrey, later that evening when they had gathered for discussion at his flat which Drusilla and Hilde continued to occupy, ‘we’re letting sentiment overrule caution; first with Stefan, now with Hilde. It’s a bad policy.’
‘I don’t see why we shouldn’t let her stay here until we’re off again,’ commented Brian. ‘It will help her a bit.’
‘Will it make it any better for her in the long run?’ asked Palfrey. ‘We shan’t be here more than another couple of days and she might as well have the break now as later. Her own people will be able to convince her, more easily than we, that she’s only making unnecessary trouble.’
He reflected for a few moments, somewhat ruefully, on the fact that from being a hunted victim of the Nazis who had crossed their path, Hilde had become the pivotal point of their immediate activities. It was impossible to get away from her. Before they let her go they wanted to feel that she was in a happier frame of mind.
Brian said less than any of the others.
The next morning brought news which made them temporarily forget Hilde’s pressing problem, for the eight o’clock bulletin had an account of the destruction of the power-stations in Oslo, and:
‘It now appears that German excesses and brutality have reached a new peak of horror as a result of the sabotage. Over two hundred people have been shot and nearly a thousand arrested in Oslo alone. The Germans claim that they have successfully uprooted the patriot organisation responsible for the sabotage, but their threat of further reprisals in the event of trouble in the future appears to give the lie to this claim.’
It was precisely half-past eleven when the Marquis arrived, dapper and bright-eyed.
Palfrey, who knew the Marquis much better than Conroy, did not like the way the latter looked at him, put his hat, gloves and stick on a table, then sat down and took out his cigarette-holder. He lit a cigarette before speaking – a reliable sign that he had something of consequence to say.
Conroy exclaimed: ‘Well, what’s the news? Anything from Stefan?’
‘No,’ said the Marquis quietly. ‘There’s been no word of him and I think that probably means good news. There has been word from Oslo. Orleck has been arrested with many of his best men. So has Pastor Martin and young Olaf.’ The Marquis spoke very gently, looking all the time into Palfrey’s eyes.
There was a spell of constrained silence.
‘You’re leaving tonight,’ the Marquis said bluntly.
Palfrey was playing with a few strands of hair about his forefinger. He looked mildly surprised, faintly embarrassed.
‘As soon as that, are we?’ His smile grew more diffident.
Brett appeared to lose himself in thought for a moment, then went on softly: ‘It