The Legion of the Lost, стр. 70
Two guards stepped in front of them as they approached the doors. Conroy and Brian kept back, their guns ready, and Palfrey spoke in the rather nervous voice of Herr Professor Pienne.
‘I have an appointment, please, with Hauptmann Schultze.’
The guard nearest him said quickly: ‘Who is speaking?’
‘Professor Pienne, with his friends,’ said Palfrey.
There was a brief spell of silence which grated on Palfrey’s nerves, making him realise the state of his emotions; then the man spoke in an easier voice, although one which carried urgency.
‘You are awaited, inside. All is well!’
‘“All is well,”’ echoed Palfrey, stupidly.
‘“All is well!”’
He went past the guards, and the others streamed past with him, putting on the masks. Beyond the poorly-lit entrance hall men in uniform were standing with fixed bayonets, but they were not questioned again. Instead, a man opened the door which led to the brilliantly-lit room where there had been such bustle when Palfrey had last been inside.
There was little bustle now.
The men were sitting at their desks, some at typewriters, and leaning back in their chairs – asleep. Palfrey, although he had thought of it and set it in motion, looked about him incredulously. They were fast asleep, lying in all manner of postures. Two had fallen from their chairs to the floor and were huddled there like dead men. Only four men, all wearing masks, were conscious. They were standing at attention, two of them by the open door at the far end of the long room.
The door there opened and Stefan came through.
They could not see his features behind the mask which made him look grotesque, but he gripped Palfrey’s forearm. The pressure was enough to make Palfrey realise the depths of the Russian’s delight. With his voice distorted by the mask, Stefan’s voice came: ‘It has worked well, Sap. Our men are removing the prisoners from the cells, many of them are already recovering. These, and the guards, have been gassed more thoroughly. You have the passports?’
‘All set,’ said Palfrey.
‘They will need them only at the station, and the examination there will be formal, the light poor,’ said Stefan. ‘Afterwards, it will be each man for himself, there is no more we can do except tell them where to find help from our agents. There is much—what is the word?—wind-up, yes, wind-up in Berlin tonight! A good night for it all to happen, Sap, don’t you think?’
‘It’s providential,’ said Palfrey, ‘but when our fellows start dropping their stuff it might make things difficult.’ The understatement did not occur to him as such then. ‘Are the trains likely to run?’
‘Until the “stuff” starts dropping, yes,’ said Stefan, and a weird, muffled laugh came from behind his mask. ‘I should not worry too much about that, Sap. Nothing is likely to drop tonight.’
‘The warning—’ Conroy said quickly.
‘Providential, indeed!’ said Stefan, and it was easy to imagine the expression on his face. ‘It was arranged, my friends; the alarm instructions were given by our agents! Such a ruse was kept for a moment of great importance, and this is considered one.’
Palfrey said dazedly: ‘What’s that? No raid?’
‘No raid?’ echoed Drusilla.
‘No raid but ours,’ said Stefan. ‘But we are wasting time in talking, we have an hour of acute danger yet and may find ourselves in difficulty. Come!’
He led the way into the passage, down the steps which were covered by six feet of concrete, and then into the intersecting passages and the cells. Most of the doors were open. The passages were littered with recumbent men, all of them asleep. The first release of the gas had created the necessary surprise, then Stefan and his men – dozens of them whom Palfrey saw then – had put the finishing touches.
Dazed-looking men were coming from the cells, some of them in a pitiful state of emaciation, but most showing nothing worse than the unhealthy pallor which their life in the underground prison had created. Some had fully recovered from the mild dose of the gas, and were vivacious and excited; they were marshalled on one side of the passages.
Stefan said: ‘There are a number of prisoners, of course, apart from our men, but we are to concentrate on the Legion. The others can go free, but will have to take their chance. Listen, Sap! I have arranged for parties of men to be at all the stations and to see that Legion members get on to the trains going to their own countries. In the office upstairs the passports can be handed out. If there is shortage for any particular place, they will have to take a chance, but with the stations guarded by our men it should be fairly safe.
‘Afterwards—’ he paused and shrugged. ‘Have you seen enough down here?’
Drusilla said: ‘Ridzer and Machez?’ in a voice which the gas-mask muffled oddly.
‘They are here, and well,’ said Stefan. ‘The office, now!’
Palfrey went through the next hour in a daze of excitement; all the time he was on the qui vive for any warning from outside, but there was no hint of trouble. The passports were already parcelled for the various countries; the prisoners filed past, and when a coachload for any one station was ready they were led out. Stefan and the men with him, some the Marquis’s agents, some the members of the German underground Movement, worked with a precision which proved how well Stefan had drilled them.
Men, who could not believe that they had a chance of a new life, were given instructions briefly. They were to hide as soon as they reached their own countries, and after two days to contact the addresses which Palfrey gave them—addresses of the Marquis’s agents. Most