On the other side of the beam he had looked up. For a moment the lenses which screened his eyes threw back a faint menacing gleam.

She said, “It’s too dangerous.”

“That is not your business! You are to obey your orders, not to think whether they bring you into danger! In any army in the world the man who thinks like that will find himself before a firing-squad.”

She controlled herself to say, “This is England.”

The faintly foreign intonation was accentuated in his answer.

“And you think that makes a difference?”

She didn’t answer that. When the silence had lasted just long enough he said, very softly indeed.

“It did not make so much difference to Nellie Collins-did it?”

No one would have known that she was frightened. For a moment she felt quite sick with fright, but it didn’t show. She had had a lot of practice in not letting her feelings show. Years of practice-years of making herself agreeable when she was tired, when she was angry, when with all her heart she hated her necessity. The bitter apprenticeship served her now. She could say without a tremor,

“Are you threatening me?” Then, with the slightest of laughs, “There is really no need. And-it would be stupid too.”

“You are confident that I should not be stupid? Thank you, Lady Jocelyn! But you would be wiser not to say such things again. They are liable to be misunderstood, and misunderstandings are always dangerous. I am willing to believe that you mean nothing when you say that you cannot go on-”

She interrupted him, putting her hand up and leaning forward.

“Wait-I want you to listen. You did misunderstand what I said. I would like you to listen while I explain. I told you I couldn’t go on because it was too dangerous. I didn’t mean that I was afraid-I meant there’s no chance of success. I don’t know what Philip brings home, but he keeps his case locked and his keys on a chain in his pocket. If he found me meddling with his papers, it would be all up. Don’t you see, I’m on my probation. In a way he believes in me because I told him things that convinced him, but underneath he holds back-he doesn’t really believe. If I gave him the slightest reason, he would break with me. I want to play for safety- let him get used to me, make him comfortable, make him need me, give him time to get over his fancy for Lyndall. After all, I’m what he fell in love with once, and why shouldn’t he do it again? And then-I’d be some use to you. If a man’s in love, there isn’t much you can’t get out of him.”

She was aware of scrutiny, deep and prolonged. At last he said,

“Six months’ delay, shall we say?”

“Yes-yes!”

“Six months whilst you dig yourself in-whilst you make Philip Jocelyn so comfortable that he falls in love with you?”

“Yes!”

“And during this six months everything stands still and waits for you?” He made a gesture with that clumsy gloved hand, moving it from left to right upon the table as if rubbing something out, and said “Quatsch!”

The single vulgar German word was like a blow in the face. It has perhaps no equal in its gross finality. What he said was rubbish, but no other language has so rude a term for it. She knew then that she had made her throw and lost, but instead of being frightened she began to be angry. He had better not threaten her. There were things that she could do if she was put to it.

He was watching her across the table. He said,

“Let us talk sense. You will do what you are told, and you will go on doing it. The first thing you will do is this.” He pushed a little packet over to her. “You will take an impression of that key. You will be careful not to leave any of the wax sticking in the wards like the clumsy criminal of a detective story. You will do that tonight.”

“I can’t-he has the key on him.”

“He sleeps, doesn’t he? There are some tablets in that packet, as well as the wax. If you put two of them in his coffee, he will sleep very well tonight. Whilst you have the key you will open the case and photograph the papers. You have the camera. You need not be afraid-he won’t wake. Next morning you will go out shopping as soon as Jocelyn has left the flat. Half-way down the stairs you will meet a man coming up. Just before he reaches you he will stumble, missing the step and coming down on his knees. You will move to help him, and he will thank you and say, ‘It’s nothing. I’ve been hurt twice as much as that in the old 78th.’ Then you will drop your parcel with the films and the impressions and he will pick it up. You will go on and do your shopping.”

Her anger had passed into determination. He was asking her to throw everything away. Because it wouldn’t come off- she had a clear conviction that it wouldn’t come off. She said so.

“I can’t do it. It would just be throwing everything away. You don’t know Philip-I do. Under that manner he’s on a hair trigger. You can’t cover up from him. He sees things, and what he doesn’t see he feels. It isn’t enough to be careful of how you look and what you say-I have to be careful what I think. I can tell you it’s not easy when we’re there alone. If I were to go back and have all this on my mind, he’d know.”

The tinted glasses caught the light again-just a gleam. He said,

“I wonder if you convince me. I begin to wonder too why you know so much about Philip Jocelyn. And I wonder-yes, I wonder very much whether you have been foolish enough to fall in love with him.”

“Of course not!”

As soon as the words were out she knew that she had spoken too quickly. She heard her own voice, and the tone of it was wrong. It wouldn’t convince him-it wouldn’t convince anyone.

He said, “So that is it? But you will go through with it all the same.”

“No, it isn’t that. You’re wrong. I’m telling you the truth. It won’t do you any good if I try, and fail. If he finds me out, there will be no second chance-you know that. What good is it going to do you?”

“Why should he find you out? What have you been doing- saying? What are you keeping back? If he is suspicious, what has given him these suspicions? Answer me at once!”

She was sitting up straight now, her head a little drawn back as if to put a distance between them. He had taken her by surprise. Her thoughts ran all ways at once. “Why did I say that?… I didn’t say anything… What did I say?… If he thinks that Philip suspects, he won’t risk it-he’ll let me alone… I don’t know-perhaps he won’t-perhaps-I can’t think-”

The voice which was just above a whisper came again, bleak as a crawling wind.

“He suspects you?”

Out of the turmoil of her thoughts she said,

“I don’t know.”

“Quite useless to lie to me. Something has made him suspect you.”

“I don’t know-”

The words seemed to come of themselves. She could find no others.

“I said it was useless to lie. Something has happened. You will tell me what it is!”

She thought, “If I let him beat me down now, it’s all up.”

It was a thought, not words-an instinct which dragged courage from some deep place and put a smile on her lips and a different tone in her voice.

“Please-please-you know, you are frightening me! But you are right-there has been something, and I don’t quite know. That is why I don’t want to do anything just now.”

“What has happened?”

She had herself in hand again. She went on easily.

“Nothing really-one of those little things, but-well, you can judge for yourself. A girl came in to see me last night-one of my bridesmaids-the world’s fool. She began talking about the diary.”

“What did she say?”

She told him.

“Said I put everything down in it-even the sort of things nobody would-like Pepys.” She laughed again. “She explained she didn’t mean anything against my moral character-giggled and asked Philip if I showed him what I wrote!”

“And he?”

“He looked at me-” Her voice went thin on the words.