He was doubtful, so I emptied my trouser pocket into his. There was a fair supply of shillings and sixpences and coppers, enough for a couple of trunk calls to London, especially as it was only eight o’clock and he would get the cheap evening tariff.
I sat there for half an hour talking to Lex. He was a lot more likable than his ideas–a solemn and mistaken crusader, but definitely a crusader. Even war and the law courts hadn’t cured him of a boyish sense of romance. He still believed that-–possibly with himself as chancellor–a despotism could be benevolent. So, I suppose, did Heyne-Hassingham, on condition that he was the despot.
When I heard Sandorski stamping up the lane, I was already beginning to get anxious. I nipped out of the car to meet him. He was quivering with nerves and temper. Even his footsteps were dancing and angry like those of a vicious horse.
“Gone to the Club!” he informed me in a sort of stifled scream.
Then he imitated the voice of the telephone operator, and I thought he would burst his arteries.
“Another one and tuppence, please. Damn their one and tuppences! Damn! Damn! Damn! Got his office building.
Six blasted minutes before some can tell me he’s out.
Cut off twice. Had to use another one and tuppence to get back. What message did he leave? At the Club. Got the bloody Club. Porter couldn’t find him. Put another sixpence in the box, please. I hadn’t got another sixpence. Colonel, I will not try again. It is the end!”
“Here, let me have a go!” I said. “I’ll come with you.”
“How do we get change?”
“At the pub, of course.”
“What about that?” He nodded towards Lex. “Or have you cut his puking, blasted throat before the hangman breaks it?”
“That governess of yours was a remarkable woman,” I said.
“– my governess!”
“I wouldn’t put it past you. Now listen, Peter–Lex is nearly asleep. Patience!”
I got him back into the car.
“We have to wait an hour,” I said to Lex. “And there’s nothing to do. So why not relax?”
I suppose the next ten minutes must have been as exasperating as any in the general’s whole life. I made him pretend to settle down to sleep. It wasn’t a very good pretense. Every muscle in his body was tight, and his occasional snorts sounded more like temper than repose. I myself kept up the air of tranquility so determinedly that I actually dozed, and was awoken by a savage dig from Sandorski.
It was a quarter to nine. Lex, bruised, worn-out and still dopy, was fast asleep. We extracted the brown paper parcel and ran down into Hinton FitzPaine.
I went into the pub and called for rum–since it was what I had been drinking–and offered a note in payment. Of course I got three half-crowns which were no good for the slots in the telephone box. I ordered another drink–for I didn’t want to ask outright for shillings and sixpences in case someone guessed I wanted them for a telephone–and in my eagerness to attract the attention of the landlord pushed further into the room.
It was the foulest piece of bad luck, equal to all that careless and insanitary cow had brought on me. I ran into the county surveyor, who was having a quick one on his way home from the inspection of some miserable local drainage scheme.
“Well, if it isn’t Roger Taine!” he roared, exploding my name from the smoke around the darts board.
I hoped the local policeman wasn’t in the bar. No one else, I thought, could know I was wanted till the morning papers. Nevertheless I watched the room rather than the surveyor, and met the fixed stare of a man sitting on the settle along the opposite wall. He composed his face, and looked away with a slight flush. He was a bad actor; but I doubt if I, in the horrified surprise of hearing my name, was any better.
My confounded friend shoved his way round the table towards me. I told him that I was in a desperate hurry, but I had to have a drink with him. I was sure that Sandorski, in his present mood of reckless impatience, would come storming into the bar if I kept him waiting long.
The man on the settle waited a minute, and then got up and passed the length of the bar, saying casually and rather loudly to the landlord that he was going to call his wife. The telephone was out of sight, on the wall of the passage that led out to the scullery and the beer barrels.
“I’m sure I know that man,” I said to the landlord.
I didn’t, of course, and didn’t want to. He was a type I don’t care for–worn and frustrated and keeping up a smart, gray mustache to compensate for his general air of genteel futility.
“Likely you would, sir. He keeps the filling station and cafe on the main road. Looks like Aladdin’s cave in the pantomime, though it wants a bit of paint and plaster, as who doesn’t? Teddy Bear’s Picnic he calls it, ‘cos ‘is name is Edward Bear. Ah, ‘e’s a one, ‘e is! Ever heard of the People’s Union?”
“Why, let me see–”
“Didn’t think you would ‘ave! But we has to hear of it. Mr. Bear is the county secretary, he is. I don’t allow no politics in ‘ere. Still, his People’s Union don’t ‘ardly count as politics. More like one of them last-day religions if you ask me.”
It wasn’t surprising that Hiart had mobilized any of his People’s Union stalwarts who might be of use. It was also possible that the police, as a matter of routine, had warned filling stations on the main road. I escaped from the pub, while the chorus of approval was going on, and found Sandorski fuming at the corner of the village street.
“I know, but listen!” I said. “I’ve been recognized. There’s a man who mustn’t see a stranger telephoning. I’m going to lead him away. I’ll give you ten minutes to finish and get back to the car. Don’t be longer.”
I poured a stream of small change into him, and hurried up the street again to the pub. I was only just in time to draw the attention of Mr. Edward Bear, who was looking for my car. I pretended not to notice him, and walked out of the village in the direction of the main road. He followed, but let the distance between us grow too far. It was a lonely road and pitch dark, and he wasn’t used to trailing murderers. Who is? I don’t think he had any enthusiasm for the job. It was a bit different from distributing pamphlets.
Where a farm track crossed the road I allowed him to lose me. He made halfhearted darts up the three possible ways I might have gone. Then he stood at the crossroads, mumbling to himself. The only words I could catch were a pathetically childish I wish I hadn’t, and later on a stern Service, Edward, service!
This was annoying. I had given Sandorski his ten minutes, and the ten lengthened into twenty. I was far too close to the wretched man. I couldn’t move. Then it occurred to me that he wasn’t waiting in pure indecision, but for somebody’s arrival. I did not know what to do. To break cover and bolt was far too compromising.
I heard a car coming down the road. Mr. Bear stood in the shaft of light and waved. The car stopped. Inside were Hiart, Pink and a driver. Hiart got out.
‘Well, Bear?” he said in his high-pitched voice. “Well? I thought you were to wait for us at the inn. You must get used to obedience, you know. You’re working for the state now, not the party. Good practice for you!”
I didn’t wonder he had specialized in Intelligence. As an officer in command of troops, he would have been shot in the back. This was the rebuke educational. Officers will remember that they command Citizens, and will exercise Patience at All Times. I’d rather have Sandorski at his worst than be Shown Patience by Hiart.
“I followed him here,” said Bear sulkily, for he had been expecting praise.
“Here? Here?”
“Yes, here,” said Pink wearily. “He said here, and I suppose he means here.”
Mr. Bear explained rapidly what had happened. He was a tiresome little bundle of pretenses, but, if you come to think of it, he had shown a heap of guts.