The Legion of the Lost, стр. 37
Palfrey thought: ‘It’s incredible!’
‘We do not know where you wish to go in Wylen,’ the old man said, ‘but nowhere will be safe for the time being; be assured, please, of that! You will be wise to wait here.’
‘Ye-es,’ said Palfrey. He brushed a hand over his damp forehead, as a vision of von Lichner came to his mind’s eye. He remembered how the man had talked of English agents having helpers in all the towns and villages and realised, for the first time, just how important that was. Yet he was concerned for Stefan and Conroy, much more than he had been before.
He told himself that they might have blundered into the village and into the hands of the soldiers.
The old man said: ‘Soon we shall return to the village, and later we shall send a child to tell you when it is safe to come. You understand?’
‘We shall wait,’ said Palfrey.
The trio inclined their heads gravely, then turned and made their wav across the field.
They were quiet for a while, then Brian lit a cigarette, wafting away the smoke as it came from his lips to avoid making a streamer which might attract attention. As it grew quieter and they became more rested they felt easier in their minds. Palfrey decided that they had been so agitated because they were tired. Had they interviewed von Lichner after a full night’s sleep, they might have been in a very different frame of mind.
Everything turned on whether von Lichner had, in fact, a proposition to put forward from his ‘principals’.
If he had, who were the principals? Not Himmler, and presumably not Goebbels; von Lichner’s reference to the little doctor had been too disparaging.
He was still drowsy when he heard footsteps from the direction of the village. Brian opened his eyes quickly and they sprang up, peering round the corner of the hedge.
Their adviser had been right; a man was approaching, about a hundred yards off, and they had a fair chance of getting away before he arrived. They would have done so but for the fact that he held the hand of a little child, who looked about six or seven.
The man and the child drew nearer. They could hear the latter’s clear voice; it was a girl, dressed neatly in a white knee-length frock with multi-coloured patches. Her thin, rather pinched face was animated, but her eyes looked too large for the rest of it. Palfrey saw in her the evidence of malnutrition; yet she was gay.
The man with her was small and round-shouldered. As he drew nearer they saw his hunched back. He was thin, his face was white and his eyes red-rimmed, yet there was a remarkable calmness in them as he peered ahead of him, answering the child in a soft, caressing voice. The voice was at variance with the man’s appearance, for in spite of his size and his deformity he was a striking-looking individual.
The child saw them first. She stopped abruptly, her face falling; then her lips opened and she spoke in a piping voice. Palfrey could not understand her words.
The man in black did not immediately raise his eyes to look at them, but took her hand more firmly. Then he looked up, with a smile, not wide, not of amusement – but of welcome and friendliness. Palfrey rarely trusted a man on sight; he trusted this man even before he spoke.
‘I am glad to see you, my friends,’ he said at last. ‘I have been looking forward to this meeting and hoping that it would not be postponed. I am Dross, the Chemist of Wylen.’
Chapter Nineteen
Reunion at Wylen
The first thing that entered Palfrey’s head was the inaptness of the name. ‘Dross’ was so obviously wrong, although he forgot that in Danish it would hardly mean what it meant in England – if it meant anything at all. He smiled tentatively.
‘It’s good to see you,’ he said.
‘I am glad to hear you say so,’ said Dross. ‘But I have been well impressed by what I have heard of you!’ Now his smile was of humour, a gentle humour which puzzled Palfrey. ‘I wish that I could have received you in the village, but it would not be wise for a little while. I had friends waiting at all the roads—you met three of them—so that you could be warned. There is the other member of your party, too—the large man. He is not hurt, I hope?’
Stefan had insisted on going a different route by himself, because his size would make him easy to spot, limiting the chances of the others.
‘No,’ said Palfrey, ‘only being cautious.’ So there was no news, good or bad, of Stefan.
‘I see. So many who arrange to come to me are prevented, that I am quite used to disappointments,’ said Dross. ‘I will arrange for the countryside to be watched and for him to be given safe guidance. Now I have brought food for you, and am going to advise you to stay here for a little longer. I think the village will be free of its other unwanted visitors before long. I will send my niece to tell you when that is the case. You will remember the gentlemen, Lissa?’ He smiled at the child.
‘Yes,’ she said clearly, her great eyes searching their faces. ‘Yes, I will.’
‘That is good. Do not think that I am asking a child to do what I would not do myself,’ said Dross. ‘She lives in a cottage further along this road; you saw the back of it, perhaps. So no one will be surprised to see her pass by. She often comes out with me to look for the wild flowers of the fields, so there is nothing surprising in our walk. I arranged, also, to be warned if I should be followed, but I am not alarmed. They are searching the houses, no more than that.’ He took a newspaper package from