when I married him. He was most romantic ? genuinely. I’d never met anyone like him. Father’s friends were all hard-boiled and rich ? men like Metroland and Copper. They were the only people I ever saw. And then I met Cedric who was poor and very, very soft-boiled and tall and willowy and very unhappy in a boring smart regiment because he only cared about Russian ballet and baroque architecture. He had the most charming manner and he was always laughing up his sleeve about people like my father and his officers in the regiment. Poor Cedric, it used to be such fun finding things to give him. I bought him an octopus once and we had a case made for its tank, carved with dolphins and covered with silver leaf.”
“It wouldn’t have lasted, even if I hadn’t come along.”
“No, it wouldn’t have lasted. I’m afraid the visit this morning was rather a disappointment to him. He’d planned it all in an attitude of high tragedy, and, my dear, I had such a hangover I had to keep my eyes shut nearly all the time he was here. He’s worried about what will happen to the house if he gets killed.”
“Why should he get killed?”
“Why, indeed? Except that he was always such a bad soldier. You know, when the war started I quite made up my mind you were for it.”
“So did my mother. But I’m taking care of that. Which reminds me I ought to go and see Colonel Plum again. He’ll be getting restive. I’ll go along now.”
“Will he be there?”
“He never leaves. A very conscientious officer.”
Susie was there, too, waiting till the Colonel was free to take her out to dinner. At the sight of the office, some of Basil’s elation began to fade away. Basil’s job at the War Office looked as if it were going the way of all the others; once secured, it had few attractions for him. Susie was proving a disappointment; in spite of continued remonstrance, she still seemed to prefer Colonel Plum.
“Good evening, handsome,” she said. “Plummy has been asking for you.”
Basil went through the door marked KEEP OUT.
“Good evening, Colonel.”
“You can call me ‘sir.’”
“None of the best regiments call their commanding officers ‘sir.’”
“You’re not in one of the best regiments. You’re General Service. What have you been doing all day?”
“You don’t think it will improve the tone of the Department if I called you ‘Colonel,’ sir?”
“I do not. Where have you been and what have you been doing?”
“You think I’ve been drinking, don’t you?”
“I bloody well know you have.”
“But you don’t know the reason. You wouldn’t understand if I told you. I’ve been drinking out of chivalry. That doesn’t make any sense to you, does it?”
“No.”
“I thought it wouldn’t. Coarse-grained, sir. If they put on my grave, ‘He drank out of chivalry’ it would simply be the sober truth. But you wouldn’t understand. What’s more you think I’ve been idle, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“Well, sir, that’s where you’re wrong. I have been following up a very interesting trail. I hope to have some valuable information very soon.”
“What have you got up to date?”
“You wouldn’t sooner wait until I can give you the whole case cut-and-dried?”
“No.”
“Well, I’m on to a very dangerous woman who calls herself Green. Among her intimates she’s known as ‘Poppet.’ She pretends to be a painter, but you have only to look at her work to realize it is a cloak for other activities. Her studio is the meeting place for a Communist cell. She has an agent in the United States named Parsnip; he has the alias of Pimpernell; he puts it about that he is a poet, two poets in fact, but there again, the work betrays him. Would you like me to quote some Parsnip to you?”
“No.”
“I have reason to believe that Green is the head of an underground organization by which young men of military age are smuggled out of the country. Those are the lines I have been working on. What d’you think of them?”
“Rotten.”
“I was afraid you might say that. It’s your own fault. Give me time and I would have had a better story.”
“Now you can do some work. Here’s a list of thirty-three addresses of suspected fascists. Check them up.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
“Shan’t I keep track of the woman Green?”
“Not in office hours.”
“I can’t think what you see in your Plum,” said Basil when he regained the outer office. “It must simply be snobbery.”
“It’s not: it’s love. The officer in the Pensions office was a full Colonel, so there.”
