“Three?” She was impressed and amused, in a sad and private way, even very slightly curious, but she didn’t care to ask him questions; in her position it didn’t seem to her that it would be the thing to do. “I don’t think they can,” she said, after a moment’s rueful reflection. “Not for a day or two, anyhow, not until your people have found the bullet.”
“No,” agreed Ondrejov smugly. “I don’t think they can.”
“Are the others all right? Shall I see them?”
“They’re all right, and you’ll see them.”
They were already in the outer office when he followed her up the narrow stairs and through the thick brown door. Swollen-eyed and uneasy after a wakeful night, they sat silent, waiting to be interviewed, the youngest detective keeping a cool eye on them from behind the desk. Their eyes lit at the sight of her, and Dominic came eagerly out of his chair; but before anything could be asked or answered the inner door opened, and Kriebel leaned out.
“In here, please, Miss Barber.”
She turned one quick glance in Dominic’s direction, and for an instant they stared helplessly at each other. Then she went on obediently into the inner room, and Ondrejov followed her in and closed the door.
“Miss Barber, my name is Kriebel. I am in charge of this investigation. Please sit down!”
The chair that had been placed for her was in front of a large table, and in the full light from the window. Beyond, the rest of the room seemed dim by comparison, and it was larger than the shabby little outer office, obstinately and characteristically preferred by Ondrejov, so that she did not immediately sort out the strangers from the plain-clothes men among those present. Her tired but competent mind could deal with only one thing at a time.
“I should like to make a statement.”
That brought the rescuers forward to declare themselves at once, as if she had sounded an urgent alarm. Three of them, just as Ondrejov had said, all suddenly revealed as English the moment they moved and drew her eyes to them. English with the ludicrous, staggering Englishness which, as Toddy had rightly observed, is never even detectable at home. And all of them willing her to silence and delay.
“Miss Barber, I advise you to think carefully about your position, and do nothing in haste.”
“We are here to take care of your interests, Miss Barber.”
The first of them was a middle-aged gentleman of immaculate appearance, smooth-faced, grey-haired, rounded and agile, with a lawyer’s cagey face; the second a long, loose-limbed young man with a handsome, superior countenance, like a clever horse or a county dowager, and an alert and impudent eye. The third, who had stayed where he was and said nothing so far, looked at once the most truly concerned and the most likely to be effective. He was perhaps even more English than the others, but in a way which looked more at home here, with the fields only a stone’s throw away, and the crests of the mountains bright in the distance outside the window. Almost elderly, tall and rather thin, with dark hair silvered at the temples, and a good-looking, well-preserved face that could have belonged equally appropriately to a retired military man or a high civil servant. He had on Bedford cords and a tweed jacket worn into the baggy shapes of comfort, with leather patches at the elbows, the sort of jacket that should be accompanied by a floppy tweed hat to match, preferably with flies stuck round it.
She had never seen any of them before in her life; but of course, they had to take responsibility for all sorts of strays like herself. No wonder the one with the lawyer’s face, for all his smooth expression of reassurance, fixed his snapping legal eyes on her as if he detested her. As if it wasn’t enough to have an English attache shot, an English student had to get herself arrested on suspicion of having shot him!
“I beg your pardon, Major Kriebel! Miss Barber should know her rights, she should have time to think, but I realise that you have an urgent duty to do. Have I your permission to speak to her before you question her?”
“By all means! In my presence, of course, at this stage, but, I assure you, quite freely.” Kriebel was on impregnable ground, at least pending the medical and ballistic reports; he could afford to be generous. “Miss Barber, these gentlemen are from the British Embassy in Prague. They are here to look after your interests in this unfortunate situation. Please, Counsellor!”
“My name is Charles Freeling,” said the lawyer. “I am counsellor to the embassy. And this is Adrian Blagrove, who is assisting us with the preparation of some technical data for translation, in connection with the new trade agreement consultations. I brought him along because he used at one time to work with your late stepfather, and naturally he’d like to assist you if he can. And here,” he indicated the man in the tweed jacket, who came forward with a sudden brief, kind smile, rueful and charming, “here is Sir Broughton Phelps, whose name will be known to you, I’m sure. Sir Broughton happened to be on holiday in the White Carpathians, I took the liberty of passing on word to him about you when the news came in.”
Yes, that, at least, was a name she knew. So the Director of the Marrion Research Institute “happened” to be on holiday here! And hadn’t she heard the other name before, too? Blagrove? Hadn’t Robert Welland mentioned him as the new Security Officer? The man who had stepped into Herbert Terrell’s shoes? And suddenly he turned up here, “assisting with the preparation of technical data for translation!”
The shock of enlightenment helped to brace her. Here to look after her interests? They were here, and here in desperate haste, to make sure she gave nothing away. That granted, no doubt they’d do their diplomatic best for her.
“Your stepfather was on my staff, my dear.” Sir Broughton took her hand, looking down at her with his warm, worried smile. “I shall be only too glad if I can do anything to help you. Freeling was trying to contact me most of the night, it seems. They managed to reach me early this morning at Topolcianky. I’ve been fishing down in that district.” She’d been right about the flies. “I shouldn’t worry too much, you know. You haven’t done anything you shouldn’t, have you? Then it’s only a question of telling your story sensibly, and having a little confidence in the authorities.”
A beautifully ambiguous reassurance, but she correctly interpreted the warning.
“It was very good of you all,” she said dutifully, “to rush to help me like this. I’m afraid you must have spent the night driving.”
“Blagrove and I came in to Poprad by air taxi, early this morning,” said Freeling. “Sir Broughton drove up from Topolcianky. We were very grateful for such prompt notification of poor Welland’s death and your situation, and for Major Kriebel’s courtesy in allowing us to see you at once. Now, the main thing is that you should think carefully, both about your rights
