said Otto, who was now playing his part with authority.
"I don’t think he’ll be much longer,” Arvers replied timidly.
The three men went inside and the door closed behind them, much to the disappointment of Austin, who was anxious to hear more. In the darkness and ensuing silence, Claire and he then started to keep a close watch on Gleicher’s villa, since they felt that any danger was bound to come from that direction. But the house was now fully visible in the light of the moon and appeared to be fast asleep.
They went on waiting for another half hour. At least twenty times Austin was tempted to climb down from his observation post and keep the appointment. Finally he glanced at his companion, who seemed dreadfully disappointed, and said almost regretfully:
“It doesn’t look like a trap to me. There are only two of them. I’m going down to join them. Wait for me here.’’
He was just getting up to leave when an impression recorded a short time before suddenly flashed through his mind—the behavior of the two Germans at the front gate: Otto’s instinctive move to step aside, and Gleicher’s gesture of protest, which looked like a reprimand. He followed the train of thought that had been started off at the time and came to the only logical
conclusion: Gleicher was the real chief. He was the one behind the whole scheme; he had organized it down to the last detail. Why this deception, then, unless with a hostile aim in view? The time it took him to work out this problem in his mind prevented him from putting
his plan into action. He was still hesitating when there was a sound of footsteps inside the house. Presently the three men emerged under the light at the entrance.
This abortive meeting had infuriated Gleicher. In his anger he forgot to confine himself to his role of subordinate and assumed his usual arrogant manner.
“My dear sir,” he said in an icy tone, “do you really think I’m going to wait here all night for your chief to turn up? He should have been here an hour ago.”
“I can’t understand it,” Arvers stammered. “He must have been unavoidably detained. I did all I possibly could, I assure you.”
“I’m only interested in results. I warned you I’d hold you responsible if anything went wrong.”
A note of entreaty crept into Arvers’ voice.
“Just give me one more chance. I assure you I really did persuade him to agree to this meeting. I’m sure to hear from him sooner or later, and I’ll arrange another appointment at once.”
Gleicher hesitated, but the business was too important for him to refuse.
“All right then,” he finally agreed, “one last chance—the last chance for you. I hope I’ve made myself clear, Herr Arvers?”
“He may still turn up tonight, for all I know.”
“We’re not prepared to wait indefinitely. Besides, Otto has to get back to Paris. No, it’s off for tonight . . . Just the same,” he added after a moment’s reflection, “if you do hear from him, let me know. Is that clear? It’s your last chance, remember, Herr Arvers.”
29
Austin could hear only part of this conversation, but it was enough to lend weight to Claire's
accusation: Arvers really seemed to be a tool in the Germans' hands. He was about to go and ask him to account for himself when she suddenly motioned to him to sit down. A faint sound had attracted her attention. The front door opened again and a figure furtively approached the threshold. All the lights inside the house had been switched off, but the sky was sufficiently
clear for them to recognize the figure as Arvers. He paused on the doorstep, half hidden behind a pillar, and remained there, motionless and silent, peering out into the darkness.
Alone in the villa after the Germans had left, Arvers had lapsed into a state of gloom.
Austin had not turned up. The reason was obvious: he was suspicious—suspicious of the Germans, of course, but also of him, Arvers. His unique sensitivity to what other people thought about him was infallible. From the tone of Austin’s voice over the telephone, he had been able to tell that the Englishman’s suspicions were aroused by something in his own behavior.
In spite of his dismay, he made an effort to reason with himself dispassionately. What would he himself, the craftiest agent of all, have done if he had suspected a trap? He would have pretended to agree to the meeting and then discreetly kept the place under close observation without revealing his presence. That was probably how Austin had acted. Perhaps he was still lying in wait at this very moment?
It was at this stage of Arvers’ deductions that he left the house, after turning out all the lights. The darkness and the silence excited him; his nerves were already strained beyond endurance by the ordeals of the last few months. Suddenly the forest seemed extraordinarily hostile, concealing in the shadow of every bush someone bent on his destruction. His enemies—by whom he meant anyone who discussed him behind his back—he imagined those enemies gathered together this evening in this secluded comer of Brittany, tempo- raril
y united in their common feeling of ill-will toward him. Dr. Fog, who had entrusted him with this mission only in order to bring about his ruin, was undoubtedly one of them. Claire was also there, in the forefront. She must have told them about him and guided them to his hide-out. Austin had talked it over with her before telephoning him—probably at her mother’s, that old witch who hated him even more than did the others.
What could she have said about him? She loathed and despised him in spite of the heroism of which he had given ample proof. To have risked his life twenty times over, courted danger every minute of the day, contended with a menacing brute regardless of the consequences—all this was to no avail. He had been prepared to liquidate Bergen. He had changed his mind only from a sense of duty, to avoid the inevitable reprisals and the death of dozens of innocent people.
And that idiot girl had jumped to the conclusion that he was frightened of meeting a man face to face and killing him! The absurdity of this idea brought a smile to his lips. How little she knew him! He had proved himself in this respect as well, but he could scarcely flaunt his prowess in broad daylight.
He shook his head to prevent the revival of other memories that threatened to set his thoughts on a sinister course. It was his immediate enemies that mattered tonight, particularly Claire. It was Claire’s opinion that he had to contend with. To her he would always be a coward; nothing would make her change her mind. Nothing, except perhaps . . .