The Legion of the Lost, стр. 58

Palfrey was glad to get into the night air of the Adolf Hitler Platz, away from Karl’s fanatical eyes. He did not think of Hilde, who was still in that underground apartment with Karl. He could not think of anything but the child Lissa.

The vision of the child’s face grew larger and more insistent; there was appeal, desperate appeal, in her gentle eyes.

When they entered the hall of Number 11, Frau Witt came out of her parlour, a vague figure in the darkness.

‘No one has come,’ she said.

They went up the stairs and into the big room. Conroy closed the door, then leaned against it. The black-out was up at the windows and they switched on the light; the low-watt bulb suspended by the single wire from the middle of the ceiling spread a poor, yellow glow about them and cast grotesque shadows on all the walls.

Palfrey said slowly: ‘There’s one thing I can’t understand, just one thing! Why did he tell us? He thinks we’re Swiss. He knows that there must be limits to what we’ll take.’

Conroy said slowly: ‘The man was mad. His brain’s turned, he wants to tell everyone he meets. That’s why.’

‘You know,’ said Palfrey, ‘the trouble is that we don’t think enough about oddities. It struck me as strange, an admission of that kind to Swiss delegates. Out of keeping. Almost as if—’ he paused again, his eyes glowing – ‘as if it were a deliberate effort to get the information out of the country. Of all the delegates we should react most unfavourably, we should feel it most. Because, no matter what Karl said, we’re a free country. We haven’t the same reason for being brow-beaten into submission to it. There’s an inverted kind of trap here, but we haven’t seen it yet. It could be big, and—’

Footsteps sounded on the stairs. It was the hurried tread of Frau Witt. Palfrey turned to the door, turned the key; Frau Witt almost fell against him.

‘Herr Professor,’ she gasped. ‘Herr Professor, someone is coming, I don’t know who. With two cars, Herr Professor, two cars! And there is an escort of motor-cyclists. I thought you should know.’

Palfrey said slowly, stiffly: ‘Yes. Thank you, Frau Witt. I should go down again now if I were you.’

Before her footsteps faded heavier footsteps grew audible. There were several men down there, Palfrey judged, and he regarded the others with the faintest of wry smiles on his lips.

‘What about the window?’ Brian said quickly. He stepped towards it, but Palfrey took his arm.

‘No use, Bry. If they’ve come for us the window won’t help, they’ll have the place watched. No last minute rushes, it would just bring the end a little quicker. As it is, we can try to bluff. Of course,’ he added softly, ‘it might be that the Count has come to take us to a party.’

Before any of the others spoke there were footsteps on the landing, then a heavy fist thundered on the door. Palfrey stepped towards it and called: ‘Come in!’

It opened on his words, to admit four hard-faced, hard-eyed men. None of them were young, all had the stamp of the Gestapo about them. Palfrey’s heart leapt, then he felt an agonising weight of depression. He forced himself to look curiously into the face of the leader, who glared about him, as if enjoying the effect of his entry.

‘Fräulein Berg—come with me!’ he said harshly.

Palfrey, startled out of his poise, said quickly: ‘But the Fräulein—’

‘Quiet!’ rasped the man. ‘Fräulein Berg!’

Drusilla hesitated. Brian took a step towards her, then was pushed aside by Conroy, who fell against him as if accidentally.

Drusilla said quietly: ‘What do you want with me, Herr Kommandant?’

‘His Excellency the Count von Otten wishes your company for the evening,’ said the man without blinking. ‘At once, please.’ He made a clumsy pretence at a bow.

Drusilla went forward, not stopping when Palfrey broke his silence while trying to think just what this meant.

‘I do not understand,’ Palfrey protested, ‘the Fräulein Berg was to—’

‘Quiet!’ rasped the Gestapo official. ‘I have told you why the Fräulein is wanted.’ He took a grip on Drusilla’s arm and led her to the door, although the other three men did not move. Palfrey stared after Drusilla, his hands clenched.

He had to let her go—

The cause was always more important than the individual—always more important.

At the back of his mind there was an awareness of the dull gaze from the other three Gestapo men. He swallowed hard, turned, and looked at Conroy and Brian.

Palfrey said: ‘I—I cannot understand it. Why should the Count want the Fräulein without us, Cattorn? I am at a loss. If he wished for her company for an evening, surely Herr Stolte—’ he stopped and raised his hands helplessly.

‘I cannot understand,’ he repeated.

‘I hope to help you soon, Herr Professor,’ said a voice from the door.

They knew that it was von Otten before the man stepped in, a fastidious affectation in his manner. He glanced about the room distastefully, flicking his coat sleeve with a glove he held in his hand. Then he looked at Palfrey; there was a smile in his eyes which held mockery, evil, perhaps knowledge.

‘Knowledge,’ thought Palfrey.

‘I am taking you and your companions to visit a friend,’ said the Count sardonically. ‘You will have a little talk with him, and afterwards—then perhaps I will be able to explain more fully. Do not be alarmed,’ he added, without sincerity. ‘If you are as loyal as you have pretended then you need have no fear. Loyalty should put you above fear.’ His smile widened. ‘Come, Herr Professor—with your companions.’

He turned and led the way towards the head of the stairs. The three men fell in behind them, clamping down. Palfrey fancied that he caught a glimpse of Frau Witt as they passed her room; a moment later he was in the street. The sidelights of a car were glowing opposite the door and the rear-light of another was disappearing round