A Noble Profession

  Austin gave a knowing grin, thinking that this role would be entrusted to him. He felt slightly abashed as the doctor went on:

  “A reliable colleague who can act as a radio operator.”

  “I bet you’ve already found the man you need, sir,” said Austin testily.

  “A woman, Austin. A couple is always less suspect. Yes, I've already found her. The more I think of it, the more convinced I am that my choice is a good one. With her. I’m pretty sure he’ll toe the line. Furthermore, she knows every inch of the region to which I want to send him. It’s where she comes from; she’s a Breton. But of course, you know her—she’s mentioned in our man’s file. Can’t you guess who it is? Come, come now! I’m referring to Claire.”

  “Morvan’s sister!”

  “His sister, exactly. She already belongs to the service. She’s an excellent radio operator . . . and she’s also volunteered for the field. Don’t you think it’s a first-rate idea?”

  “But sir,” exclaimed Austin, who thought it a monstrous choice, “surely you’re not going to team her up with Cousin? It’s impossible!”

  “On the contrary, that’s exactly what I plan to do. What’s biting you, Austin?”

  “Well, sir, I feel ... I feel it’s a sort of confidence trick. If she knew, she’d never accept for a moment.”

  “Don't worry about that. She does know.”

  “She knows?”

  “She had already heard something about the case, and I’ve hidden hardly anything from her myself.”

  “Then she can't possibly be willing to go back with him.”

  “That's just where you're wrong, my lad,” Dr. Fog replied, lowering his voice and assuming a tone full of hidden meaning; “that’s just where you’re wrong. She has volunteered twice to go back with him.”

  Austin tried to fathom the doctor's inmost thoughts but soon gave it up as a hopeless task. He felt he was being caught in a web of Machiavellian intrigue of which his chief held all the threads and that had been spun with no other consideration than the aim in view. Dr. Fog noticed his uneasiness.

  “Don’t accuse me of being underhanded. I’ve talked it over with her at considerable length. As I told you. I've hidden hardly anything from her. The only thing she doesn’t know is that Cousin left her brother behind. She believes he was killed in the fray when our man fired on the guards. She would probably volunteer three times if I told her the truth, but I didn’t go as far as that.”

  “I'm surprised you didn’t, sir,” Austin muttered involuntarily.

  He blushed at his audacity, but Dr. Fog merely smiled and went on:

  “That’s not all. We need a brain for this peculiar team, a brain capable of controlling human passion—for there’s bound to be some passion between these two; no doubt that’s what we need in this type of warfare, but it’s not enough for me—someone who can go to France with them and stay there, at least for a certain length of time: a sound brain. I thought of you.”

  “I’m at your service, sir.”

  Austin’s indignation could not last in the face of the exhilarating prospect of taking part in this venture. He was about to express himself in warmer terms when the doctor gruffly interrupted him.

  “Above all, don’t tell me you’re also volunteering. I’ve selected you for the job, that's all.”

  “At your service, sir.”

  “That's settled, then. . . . Just the same, I should like to be sure that you’re accepting this willingly.”

  “With the best will in the world, sir,” the young man exclaimed with an eagerness that brought a smile to the lips of his chief.

  “That’s fine. This evening we’ll work out the details of the mission and I’ll introduce you to Claire. I’m sure you’ll like her. Knows her own mind. Quite a character, I should imagine.”

  “I don’t doubt it, sir. I can guess what’s behind her attitude. She can’t bear the idea of her brother’s having failed, and she wants to make up for him, redeem the family name. It’s admirable.”

  Dr. Fog gave him a deep, penetrating look and said in a strange voice:

  “You’re extremely perspicacious, young man. Inci- dentally, I forgot to tell you, but you’ve probably realized it already—she simply adored her brother. She adored him,. Austin, and was full of admiration for him.”

  From the way the doctor underlined these last words, he seemed to expect some reply. But none came. Austin remained silent, disconcerted by a vague suspicion of some ulterior motive on the doctor’s part that was too subtle for him to understand. Dr. Fog did not press the point and dismissed him. Just as Austin was leaving, the doctor tapped his forehead.

  “I almost forgot . . . Have you found a suitable name for our man?”

  “Not yet, sir. I haven't given it much thought.”

  “Well, you know, last night I had a rather bright idea,” he said with an air of false modesty. “I thought of Arvers. How does that strike you?”

  “Arvers?”

  “Mon âme a son secret” the doctor declaimed in the same self-satisfied tone. “I’m not quite sure what put the idea into my head. . . . Yet I can’t imagine a better name for him—Arvers.”

  He looked as though he had made a most valuable discovery, and Austin could not help thinking, as he left the room, that the devil himself sometimes has a childish side to his nature.

  12

  The mission for which Arvers had been selected was extremely simple. So it seemed, at least, to Austin, who kept wondering over and over again if it wasn’t perhaps a pretext for one of Dr. Fog’s secret designs. He could scarcely see the reason for sending two agents into France (plus himself, whose only function was to supervise the others) and organizing a parachute drop by night—always a tricky operation—merely for Arvers to establish contact with a German who was prepared to sell some information to the Allies.

  The instructions Arvers had been given could be summed up as follows: as soon as he landed in France he was to settle in a certain villa in the vicinity of the Rance—by a strange coincidence, not far from Morvan’s village, where his mother undoubtedly was still living. This was to be his regular meeting place with Gleicher, the German traitor, an industrialist who had a neighboring villa he visited from time to time. Cousin would receive whatever information there was and pay for it according to its importance. The villa had already been rented and Gleicher had been notified to get in touch with him, which said a great deal for the means at Dr. Fog’s disposal and made his reason for sending an additional agent there all the more incomprehensible. Any urgent information could be signaled back by radio. A messenger would come at regular intervals to collect the bulkier documents. Arvers, in fact, would simply be acting as a letter box.

  Meanwhile Austin was to remain in the background, without entering into communication with the German. His mission was to supervise the team and see that it functioned properly. Dr. Fog’s main interest was in Arvers: his conduct and his reactions under certain circumstances. He discussed this at some length with Austin, without giving him any definite instructions but drawing his attention to the points he considered most significant.

  “The essential problem in this world, and particularly for us, Austin, is the interaction of the mental and the physical, of the body and the mind. What I want to know is how he deals with this problem.”

  Austin set to work with youthful ardor and a natural curiosity that the doctor’s methods had sharpened considerably. He scarcely let Arvers out of his sight during the time devoted to their preparations. On the eve of their departure he wanted to let the doctor know certain things that had come to his notice, but the doctor cut him short. He simply asked him if he thought everything would be all right and, on receiving an affirmative reply, wished him good luck and dismissed him. There were other matters claiming his attention.

  And so Austin was parachuted into France with the incongruous couple. He spent three months there, exchanging no more than a few brief signals with his chief in London. By the
end of that time Arvers and Claire had settled at the villa, passing themselves off as young newlyweds. Claire, who was well known in the neighborhood, had kept her true identity. It was believed that she had eloped into the Free Zone with her lover and had returned to the fold after marrying him. Their personal papers were up to date and in order.

  Gleicher, the German source of information, came

  down at regular intervals to spend a weekend in the villa next door, the only other house within a radius of about a mile, and his meetings with Arvers occurred under ideal conditions of security. Claire sent the in- formation back by radio, operating either from the villa or from the back parlor of Mrs. Morvan’s grocery. Her mother, whom she had contacted at once, was the only person in the area who knew of her clandestine activities. The old woman had offered her help, and, after a certain amount of hesitation, Arvers had agreed to accept her assistance. It was to her house that the messenger came from time to time to collect the reports, since Arvers had no direct dealings with this agent. Dr. Fog had insisted on this point. The experts in London appeared to be quite satisfied with the information that had been collected thus far.

  Austin, who was living in Rennes in a safe house that was also unknown to Arvers, met the couple from time to time at a secret rendezvous and saw for himself that they were both doing their jobs. He felt there was nothing more for him to do and was relieved when he

  received a signal from Dr. Fog asking him to come back to London if he thought the situation no longer required his presence in France. Since this was, in fact, his considered opinion, he made the necessary arrangements for his return, and a light airplane flew in one night to take him back.

  The following morning found him once again in Dr. Fog’s office. Contrary to the attitude of indifference he had shown on the eve of Austin’s departure, the doctor actually now seemed impatient to hear what he had to say and to know the results of his supervision. He asked Austin not to omit a single significant detail.

  “I’d better begin, sir, with the period we spent atthe parachute training center prior to the drop. It was only a few days, just long enough for some preliminary training and five practice jumps, but we were hardly out of one another’s sight for a moment.”

  “Good,” said the doctor; “go on. A man’s reactions at the prospect of a parachute jump are most important. It’s usually an extremely instructive experience and makes a deep impression on certain temperaments. I’ve known perfectly brave men who were incapable of launching themselves out of an aircraft. I remember putting a certain captain through this test—a real tough fellow, I assure you. He had proved his courage countless times. Well . . .”

  He spoke of these tests and trials as though they were simple laboratory experiments. Austin could not help smiling now at this old familiar manner of his, which once had made him feel so uneasy.

  “Well,” the doctor continued, “it was utterly pitiful, a dreadful exhibition. The whole team was ashamed o him. When he was given the order to jump, he clung to the nearest man, the nearest object, anything he could get hold of. He was clawing at the fuselage with his nails. When he saw they were going to heave him out by force, he implored them—yes, he actually implored them with tears in his eyes—to let him off. He was reduced to an absolute jelly, Austin, and yet, as I said before, the fellow was a hero."

  “Nothing like that happened to Arvers, sir—or to me, for that matter, though I certainly didn’t enjoy it, I assure you. As for the girl, sir, I may as well tell you right away, I have nothing but admiration.”

  “Really?"

  Austin seemed to recall his own experience as a parachutist with anything but pleasure.

  “To be permanently as calm and cool as she was during that sort of ordeal, you’ve either got to be an insensitive brute, which she obviously isn’t, or else be uplifted, anesthetized, by some sentiment sufficiently deep and powerful to make a mockery of fear and deaden your reactions to it.”

  “Didn’t I tell you there was bound to be some passion in our team?” said Dr. Fog.

  “She was perfectly detached, sir—that’s the only word for it: detached. During those few days I’m sure she didn’t once give a thought to the fact that she would have to launch herself into the void at a height of three thousand feet. Her courage came to her quite naturally; it didn’t entail the slightest effort. Her appetite wasn’t affected, she spoke in her usual tone of voice and didn’t have much to say. She looked on this stage of the training as an insignificant formality. . . . A one-track mind, in which there was no room for any sensation—that’s the impression she gave me, sir.”

  “Perhaps it’s just an exalted feeling of patriotism?”

  “Perhaps,” Austin replied, in the same tone of disbelief the doctor had used to make this suggestion.

  They looked at each other in silence for a moment, then Austin observed pointedly:

  “She never took her eyes off him.”

  “Really?”

  “Not for a minute, sir; not for a second.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me unduly,” Dr. Fog said thoughtfully. “But what about him? Let’s hear about him for a change.”

  “He behaved like a brave man, if that’s what you want to know. I could give you some details . . .”

  “That’s the stuff!” the doctor cried eagerly. “Let’s get on to the details.”

  “The day before our first jump, during the afternoon, in the course of exit practice from an aircraft on the ground, I began to detect certain symptoms in him: fits of absent-mindedness, sudden attacks of pallor—all very normal under the circumstances. That evening, during dinner. I'm sure he had no appetite at all, and yet . . .”

  “Yes?”

  Austin went on, his brows furrowed in a visible effort to recall the scene.

  “He took a big helping . . . and it wasn’t what he had intended to do, I noticed that. He was going to pass the dish on, after taking no more than a spoonful, when his eyes met Claire’s. I told you she never let any of his gestures escape her, not even at mealtimes. He changed color at once and his features seemed to shrivel. He took the dish back and gave himself an enormous helping.”

  “Excellent,” Dr. Fog said, rubbing his hands together. “And did he eat it all?”

  “At first I thought he wouldn't be able to manage it; he could hardly lift his fork to his mouth and he had difficulty in chewing. I could see what an effort he was having to make, and it wasn’t hard to visualize the painful progress of the food down his throat. Each mouthful made him shudder from head to foot. At one moment his arm dropped to his side, as though it had lost all feeling. He seemed to be at his last gasp.”

  “Excellent,” the doctor again remarked. “I see you kept him under close observation.”

  “Not nearly as close as she did, sir, not nearly as close!” Austin exclaimed in a sudden fever of excitement. “Heavens, she seemed to be gobbling him up with her eyes! When he sat back in his chair like that, inert and on the point of fainting, she leaned over toward him like some beast of prey. It was dreadful, sir, I assure you. I was just going to make some remark to put an end to the business, when he noticed her. He sat up at once with a start. All his muscles contracted, and he managed to resume a more or less normal manner. Then he gave a gulp, and not only swallowed the mouthful that had stuck in his throat but finished up everything on his plate as well. But after that he turned very pale. He smiled—yes, he managed to smile—and mumbled a word of apology. Then he got up and left the room.

  “She followed him with her eyes, her body still leaning in his direction as though attracted by a magnet. He came back a few minutes later. I’m sure he had gone out to be sick. He was as pale as ever, but he was still smiling. He sat down again. His eyes met Claire’s. He assumed an air of defiance . . . the same sort of manner he put on the following day, after the first jump, when he asked to be allowed to do another right away.”

  The doctor, who seemed intensely interested in this account of the meal, interrup
ted him.

  “Just a moment. This is absolutely fascinating. Don’t go on so fast. We were still at dinner . . .”

  “At dinner, that’s right,” said Austin, who seemed to be curiously moved by the recollection of that scene.

  “Well, he looked her straight in the eyes and . . . Do you know what he did then, sir? You’d never believe it.”

  “I think I can guess,” Dr. Fog replied calmly.

  “He took a second helping! Do you realize that, sir? He took a second helping, and not a small one, either!”

  13

  “So he took a second helping, did he?” Dr. Fog repeated.

  There were at least two unusual elements in this dialogue: the vehement manner in which Austin was reporting these trivial details, and the deep attention with which the doctor was listening, each man seeming to attribute a tremendous significance to the petty incidents.

  “I can see him now, sir. He had pulled himself together. With a courteous gesture he offered the dish first to Claire and then to me, and when we refused he helped himself again.

  “That’s all, as far as the meal goes, sir. But I took advantage of that evening, when we were all together, to brief him on his mission. He was very disappointed and could not help saying so. He had applied for an active post, he told me. That was what he wanted—action. He repeated the word several times, with fierce insistence. I explained that we attached great importance to the contact with Gleicher and hinted that there might be some action as a result of it. He acquiesced. Then I got down to the details: how to justify their presence in the villa. I outlined my plan to both of them: they were to be a young married couple who wanted to find a little peace and quiet in the remote countryside.”

  “I let you have a free hand on that score. So you decided they would be able to act their parts convincingly?”