After that? Someone drew the heavy curtains behind the window, muffling the sounds from within, and she had not been able to hear any more. But wasn’t that enough? That was what must have happened at the Lachaume farm. He was the one who had talked, not her brother.
Austin peered at her in the darkness, unable to come to any conclusion, trying desperately to find something in her expression on which to base a diagnosis. It was quite possible she had imagined the whole thing as a result of misinterpreting an odd phrase here and there. Yet he was impressed by the continuity of her account and by her faithful repetition of the words Arvers had used. She had now mastered her emotions sufficiently to give him further details.
“Ever since then he has been a different man. He is even more suspicious of me than before. He has had a few more meetings with Gleicher, but he’s the one who always puts himself out and goes over to the villa next door. He has received a number of telephone calls, during which he himself hardly says a word, apart from replying in a terrified voice: ‘Yes . . . Certainly . . . I understand . . .’ After each call he looks completely washed out. He lies sprawled in his chair, on the point of collapse. He never moves out of arm’s reach of the telephone—he’s afraid I might answer it . . . But I’m going to find out what they say to him. I’ve now got the means at my disposal."
“What means?’’
She told him without a moment's hesitation that the day before, while Arvers was out of the house visiting Gleicher, she had taken the opportunity to connect one of her receivers to the telephone line. From her room she could now listen in to all their conversations.
Austin disapproved of this procedure but, bearing in mind the importance of a possible betrayal, he felt he had no right to question it. Furthermore, she was so completely convinced of Arvers’ villainy that no amount of reasoning would have changed her opinion. The best thing was to let her go ahead, take advantage of her scheme, which results would justify if she was right and which would expose her mistake if she was wrong—unless, of course, she was completely
out of her mind? He looked at her again. She seemed to read his thoughts and forced herself to speak more calmly.
“Don’t think I'm letting my imagination run away with me. I swear there was no mistake about it. I jotted down his words that very evening so as to make quite sure. You can have a look at my notebook if you like.”
The recovery of her composure strongly influenced Austin’s decision. In a few minutes he drew up his plan of battle. First he told her briefly the contents of the top-secret messages and the outlines of Gleicher’s proposal. She distrusted the whole business and would look upon it only as a trap set with Arvers’ complicity. Austin discussed it no further and gave her her instructions.
“I’ll phone him tomorrow to let him know I’ve arrived. I’ll tell him that the Allies are interested in the offer and I have come to look into it more closely, which is actually true. I’ll ask him to arrange for me to meet Gleicher and Otto. He’ll have to phone them. And then . . .”
He had a final twinge of conscience, which was swiftly dispelled by the recollection of Dr. Fog’s last words of advice.
“And then you will listen carefully to every word they say and take it all down. After that we’ll be able to see whether I ought to keep the appointment and what precautions I’ll have to take. Whatever you do, be careful not to rouse their suspicions.”
She promised to do exactly as he said. They left the auditorium without being noticed and parted outside the movie. He stood there for some time, puzzled, watching her as she moved away and was finally swallowed up in the crowd.
27
“Is that you, Herr Arvers? What, you’re surprised I recognize your voice? But it's very characteristic, you know; no one who has heard it once is likely to forget it. What can I do for you . . . ? Yes, yes, I see, very interesting. At last! Hold the line a moment, will you . . .”
Gleicher frequently assumed this bantering tone with Arvers. He seemed to delight in alternately terrifying and humiliating him. He put his hand over the mouthpiece to say softly to Otto, who was sitting op- posite him writing:
“They’re biting.’’
Otto interrupted his work and took the receiver his chief handed to him.
“Really? Someone very important, you say?”
“It’s my immediate superior from London,” Arvers replied. “He has already been here. He is familiar with all the French side of the business and has been detailed to arrange a meeting with someone of even greater importance."
This was exactly what Austin had told him to say. Claire, who was listening in upstairs, heaved a sigh of disappointment at hearing not a single suspect word. True, Gleicher’s tone was slightly peculiar, but that was not sufficient proof for Austin.
“Where will the meeting be held? But at your place, of course, Herr Arvers. You know what confidence I have in you! Naturally there’ll just be the two of you, no one else."
“Naturally," Arvers replied.
Gleicher fixed the meeting for the evening two days ahead, then continued in a tone of authority:
“I don’t think I need remind you again to stick to my instructions."
Claire’s hopes soared. She underlined the word “instructions" in the notebook in which she was taking down the conversation.
“I hope you haven’t said anything that could rouse your chief’s suspicions?"
“I've adhered to our agreement to the letter."
“Our agreement!”
Arvers' use of this term was a halfhearted endeavor not to lose face in his own eyes. He could not regard himself as a traitor: he was merely acting as an intermediary in some tricky negotiations between enemy leaders, that was all. Away from Gleicher, he had plucked up enough courage to use this word, which cast a reassuring light on the transaction.
“Our agreement!’’
The sarcasm contained in the exclamation cut him to the quick. In the margin of her notebook, Claire recorded these changes in tone by a system of conventional signs. For all his anger, Arvers did not dare answer back. Once again he was frightened of receiving a reply that would shatter all his illusions.
He ventured, however, to ask for further details on one particular point. He did so with a note of entreaty in his voice, after having sworn to himself several times in the past twenty-four hours that he would take a firm line when discussing the deal.
“You did say, didn’t you, Mr. Gleicher, that if all goes well . . . that if you’re satisfied with my services,” he added in a wheedling tone, “you would give me the roll?”
This—the only demand he had made from the very beginning—was almost in the nature of a condition he had steeled himself to impose. Gleicher had agreed to it, to save himself a fruitless argument.
Claire scribbled this down, then paused in bewilderment, waiting for a further explanation.
“The roll? What roll?”
The questions and answers succeeded one another at sufficiently long intervals for her to have time to grasp the general meaning and also appreciate the various fine distinctions. The more humble Arvers’ tone became, the more impatient and sarcastic was Gleicher’s. As a matter of fact, the word “agreement” had filled him with cold fury and he was only pretending not to understand so as to force Arvers to confess his ignominy out loud, well aware what such a confession would cost him even in the absence of witnesses. The same sort of urge had led him to make not the slightest effort to conceal his maliciousness. He refused to allow Arvers the meager satisfaction that even the mildest reassurance on that score would have brought him.
“What roll do you mean?” he repeated, after a heavy silence on Arvers’ part.
“But . . . surely you know . .
“Surely I know what? I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about, I assure you.”
He was deliberately taunting. Arvers clenched his fists, fully aware of the man’s insidiousness. Rage made his voice sound less obsequious as he replied:
r />
“I’m referring to the record, the ribbon—I don’t know the exact term for it.”
“Oh, you mean”—the tone of polite remonstrance was more insulting than the worst abuse—“you mean the tape? You must talk properly, Herr Arvers. Now I understand. You mean the tape that brings back such unpleasant memories of the Lachaume farm?”
Claire gave a start. Her emotion was so intense that she almost dropped her pen. Arvers continued, in his previous wheedling tone:
“You promised you would let me have it.”
“That fascinating document in which you more than gratify the wishes of those Gestapo swine? One might almost say you even went beyond their demands, Herr Arvers. That’s the one you mean, isn’t it? You know, I never get tired of listening to that tape and I think I have detected some extremely interesting details that had escaped me before and that perhaps you may not have noticed yourself. Yes, toward the end there's a sort of moaning sound in the background that could not have come from you. I just wondered whether it might be the voice of your colleague—that colleague of yours who, unlike you, gave only a few inarticulate screams. That’s the tape you mean, isn’t it?”
Claire forced herself to write this down without giving further thought to it. If she had allowed herself a moment’s pause to think about the meaning of these words, she would have been incapable of continuing.
“That's the one,” Arvers said in an almost inaudible voice. “You promised . . .”
Gleicher interrupted him in biting tones:
“Well then, if I promised, that ought to satisfy you, I should think.”
He had noticed a strange gleam in the eyes of his assistant, Otto. He suddenly felt ashamed of his own behavior and wanted to put an end to this conversation as quickly as possible.
“A German officer never breaks his word. I’ll keep my promise if you toe the line. You can be quite sure I won’t forget to bring this document with me to the rendezvous, Herr Arvers. So if anything should happen to me, your chief would find it on me. . . . See you the day after tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” Arvers replied in a strangled voice.
Gleicher subsided into a moody silence, well aware that Otto was gazing at him with curiosity.
“Schwein!” he finally muttered.
The abuse was obviously intended for Arvers, but he did not feel especially pleased with himself, either. He was shocked to realize that he sometimes took a sly pleasure in tormenting his victim, although his task did not always justify such an attitude. He began to wonder if his new profession wasn't developing a certain sadistic trait in his character.
He shrugged his shoulders, trying to think of some other subject to dispel his feeling of uneasiness. Of course he would let him have the tape, since this was what he had promised. But how could that abject creature also be so stupid? Weren’t they taught in the enemy schools that nothing was easier to copy than a document of that sort? A mere child would have suspected that there were already several copies safely filed away. This led him to consider his own duplicity again; then he pulled himself together and dismissed these unwelcome thoughts from his mind.
“You heard, didn’t you, Otto? It’s for the day after tomorrow, in the evening. We’ve barely got time to make all the necessary arrangements.”
“Don't you think, Herr Doktor, that your security de- mands a few extra precautions?”
“Not at all. We shall go there by ourselves. We must inspire this envoy from London with confidence, which should be easy if we play our cards properly. This is a matter of brains, not brawn—a question of psychology, as I've told you before, Otto. We’ve nothing to fear
from this fellow, Arvers. He’s much too cowardly to do us any harm, and we have him too firmly in our clutches.”
“I was thinking more of his chief. I find it hard to believe he doesn’t suspect anything.”
“He does suspect something. I’m sure, but our plans have been well thought out and organized through various other channels as well. The story should sound plausible. What it boils down to is a battle of wits. And besides, don’t imagine that the man we’re going to meet the day after tomorrow is the head of the Intelligence Service. After all, they’re not complete beginners, and will have sent a mere envoy. But I’m aiming much higher than that. That’s why we have to gain this man’s confidence, and we have enough original documents to show him to achieve this. It’s big game we’re after, Otto.”
Gleicher always saw far ahead and had a knack of appearing to see even farther. His contempt for the Gestapo, which aimed only at easy and immediate results, prompted him to take a completely different line. Moreover, after a confidential meeting with the head officer of the A bwehr, he had succeeded in arranging for a considerable effort to be made by various other branches so that his offer to open negotiations might ap- pear quite genuine. He held a number of trumps in his hand and had made up his mind to bring off a master stroke. There was a hint of condescension in his voice as he gave Otto his final instructions.
“Be sure you get completely into the character you’re playing, Otto. You’re the Number One, remember, a senior Abwehr officer who has the ear of the Admiral. I shall remain in the background; I’m merely an intermediary who’s out for what he can get. As far as Arvers is concerned, it doesn’t matter at all; but in the presence of his chief we’ve got to stick to our respective roles. Any change would make him suspicious.”
Otto assured him that he had long since had ample opportunity to study the behavior of senior German
officers and Abwehr officials. He felt sure he could put on a flawless performance. He gave a brief demonstration of his skill then and there; whereupon Colonel Count von Gleicher first wrinkled his brow, then, on second thought, gave a faint smile and deigned to declare himself satisfied.
28
Austin arrived at Mrs. Morvan’s grocery just as it was getting dark. Claire was waiting for him there. He had not gotten in touch with her earlier for fear of rousing Arvers’ suspicions. Since the meeting with the Germans was to take place that evening, Arvers had asked Claire to spend the night at her mother’s place so as to leave the villa free for him, as he had some confidential business to attend to there.
She showed Austin into the back parlor, where the old woman came and joined them after closing the shutters, and gave him a faithful account of the telephone conversation.
“It's all quite clear to me now,” she concluded.
“What I overheard in the garden was part of the tape recording referring to the Lachaume farm affair. It’s conclusive proof of his treachery and of my brother’s innocence. The Germans have him in their clutches and are using him to lead you into a trap.”
Austin was overwhelmed by this precise report and by the details in her notebook. It was a strange story, but probably true. It was difficult to attribute this long and graphic conversation to an hallucination. He questioned her closely again, then turned toward her mother, who had not yet said a word. He knew she had a domineering personality. With him, she generally assumed an air of indifference, as though all this business meant nothing to her. This evening, however, he detected a trace of anxiety in her expression; she seemed to be studying his reactions. And he needed only this fleeting glint in her eyes to remind him that she was Morvan’s mother; her usual attitude tended to make him forget it.
He began to wonder if the two women, far from being slightly unbalanced, had not deliberately invented the whole story to redeem the memory of the deceased, no matter what the consequences. Such a disregard for justice in the cause of a deep devotion made him shudder, but considering the old woman's obdurate expression and Claire’s blazing eyes, this monstrous supposition did not seem entirely impossible. He eventually dismissed it from his mind, reproaching himself for seeing nothing but treachery and lies ever since he had become Dr. Fog’s assistant.
“This meeting is a trap,” Claire insisted. “What Gleicher said proves that he still regards us as mortal enemies.”
/> Austin read through her notes again, paused for a moment to think, then said with authority:
“I’d like to watch them without their knowing it. I’ve got to see for myself what sort of attitude they adopt. Can that be arranged?”
“We could get right up to the villa if we approached it through the wood . . . and even slip into the garden without anybody noticing. There’s an old ruined tower in one corner, from which you can keep a lookout in all directions. It's a perfect hiding place.”
It was clear she had already used this observation post. He wasted no time on further questions and fell in with her plan. They decided to leave at once so as to arrive well before the meeting and thus avoid any possible trap. Without a trace of emotion, the old woman
wished them good luck and watched them in silence as they vanished into the dark. It was not until she had carefully locked up for the night that she mumbled a
few indistinct words in a menacing tone, almost without unclenching her teeth.
Austin followed Claire quietly. He had decided to rely on her entirely until he could form his own opinion. As soon as they were outside the village she led the way across some open fields, then through a rather heavily wooded area where the cold made him shiver. He shook off the anxieties that were preying on his mind to devote himself to the more urgent business of