The Legion of the Lost, стр. 53
Palfrey said: ‘Ye-es, I suppose so.’
‘You know it,’ said Stefan. ‘It is well enough for me to take part in such an affair as that at Oslo or Copenhagen, when we can get quickly away. But it may be necessary for us to stay for weeks in Berlin. It will not be safe if I am with you.’ He eyed Palfrey steadily, his eyes frank and smiling a little. ‘I am already marked by von Otten. I do not like it because it may reflect on you.’
Palfrey said nothing; there was no point in lying to try to soothe Stefan’s feelings, the Russian would see through it and in any case would not want it.
‘I am glad you do not argue,’ said Stefan. ‘It is quite obvious. What is more difficult is to undo any damage that may have been done. We will have to risk that. Meanwhile, I think your friends at Attanstrasse, 8, may be helpful. I can perhaps join them. In any case there are plenty of contacts in Berlin and I shall have the time and opportunity to concentrate on Ridzer and Machez. You can pay more attention to von Otten, von Lichner, and the affairs of the Legion,’ said Stefan, ‘and that will be more than enough for you. I suggest that I am recalled by the Party in Switzerland. The best thing is to arrange for me to get the summons when Stolte is here. He will pass it on to von Otten. Is that all right?’
‘As far as it goes, yes,’ said Palfrey. ‘I wish there were another way out! One thing’s certain, Stefan—You’ll do nothing about Ridzer and Machez and the prison without getting in touch with us. We’ll have to have a go-between.’
‘Hilde, perhaps?’ Stefan suggested.
Palfrey pulled at his hair.
‘No-o,’ he said after a pause. ‘I don’t think we ought to overload her, she has plenty to do. The problem of Hilde,’ he added, smiling, ‘has grown bigger. But this is rambling, Stefan! This go-between—we’ll leave messages at the Berlin Rendezvous 3. It’s in the Adolf Hitler Platz—you know where it is as well as I do. Is that all right?’
‘Yes,’ said Stefan. ‘One other thing before we have some sleep. When the others return from Attanstrasse I will probably want to go there—you will arrange that as quickly as you can? I won’t go until I get a message at the Rendezvous.’
‘Right!’ said Palfrey.
In one way he was relieved, glad that he had not fallen for the temptation of telling Stefan that the Marquis had raised just such a query; it was much better to have worked itself out. He saw the many snags ahead, the possibility of awkward and insistent questions. Then he shrugged the thought aside and, like Stefan, took off his shoes and collar and tie and lay down on the bed in the next room, sharing it with Stefan. He could hear Drusilla’s even breathing on the other bed.
He went to sleep quickly.
He was roused not long afterwards by an insistent tapping on the door. He raised his head as soon as he opened his eyes. The bed lurched as Stefan climbed from it and tip-toed to the door. Drusilla had also been awakened and was staring at the door bemusedly.
‘Who is there?’ Stefan called after he reached the door.
‘It is I, Frau Witt,’ said the Hausfrau. ‘Please open the door!’ She did not seem to be worried, thought Palfrey. He swung himself from the bed and was sitting on it when he caught a glimpse of the rejuvenated Frau Witt. Her rejuvenation was now the more remarkable because she had on a striking red frock reaching barely to her knees.
‘There is a visitor for the Professor,’ she said promptly. ‘Does he wish to see her?’
‘Her?’ thought Palfrey, then imagined it was Hilde. He stood up and straightened his hair. ‘Yes, I do.’
‘I shall bring her up,’ said Frau Witt.
She went off, the hem of her skirt well above the knees at the back, while Drusilla sat up and Palfrey put on his shoes. None of them doubted that it would be Hilde. There was a quickening excitement in them as footsteps sounded on the stairs. Palfrey was tempted to go to the door to greet the Norwegian girl, suddenly aware of how much he wanted to ask her.
But when ‘she’ appeared it was not Hilde.
Frau Witt led the visitor to the lounge, while Palfrey gaped at a short woman, dressed in a long black coat and shoes with absurdly high heels. He did not recognise her and was startled that anyone else should know that ‘Professor Pienne’ was in Berlin.
Then Drusilla said in a tense voice: ‘Did you see her, Sap?’
‘Yes. A stranger to me,’ said Palfrey. ‘I think—’
‘She’s not so much a stranger as all that,’ said Drusilla sharply. ‘We’ve seen her before—in Penzance, with von Lichner.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Woman with High Heels
Just as he had made an effort, once, to remember the red-haired man who had left the ramshackle bus in Cornwall and gone ahead of them with the woman in the uncomfortable-looking high-heeled shoes, now Palfrey recalled von Lichner’s companion. It brought a sense of shock because von Lichner had been able to trace them so easily.
Drusilla, who had taken off her frock, started to put it on quickly; its fastening caught in her hair. Palfrey helped her on with it, smiling absently and looking out of the window. He needed time to recover from his surprise.
‘I suppose there’s no doubt?’ said Stefan.
Drusilla pulled the frock over her head abruptly and stood with it rucked about her shoulders.
‘Of course there isn’t.’ She smiled a little, for Stefan was looking studiously out of the window and away from her. ‘Are we all going in?’
‘I think I’ll start the ball rolling,’ said Palfrey. ‘You’ll keep close by?’