Hazell woman you've probably heard about. But she doesn't, my girl, she's called Catharine, she doesn't join in the orgies.'
Churchill looked defensively at Hunter, who made to speak but remained silent.
'Even so,' said Naidu, 'not a very salubrious environment, from all I gather.'
'Ross-Donaldson was telling me about that evening the two of you were there,' said Hunter. 'It sounds fascinating. Why don't we all four drive over some time? You could call on your light of love, James, and you could inspect the architectural layout and grounds, Moti, and Willie-surely there must be something for Willie to look at.'
'There's a library nobody's been near for God knows how long, Catharine says.'
'The very thing. He could write an article about it for this newspaper of his or magazine or whatever. Has he had much stuff sent in, do you know?'
'It's early days yet.'
'I suppose so. You'll have to write him a sonnet to Catharine.'
'I wouldn't know how to start. What would you do over at Lucy's?'
'Me? Oh, I'd go to bed with her. What else? It would probably be an experience. And my sex-life hasn't been very full recently. I don't like that. A chap tends to brood, and that's unattractive. Look at poor Brian Leonard. He'd be so much better company if he could get his end in occasionally. And probably better at catching spies too. Oh. Now that is a thought.'
'What is?'
'The Colonel's always saying he's got his money on some local temptress-seductress type as the most likely sort of spy. Of course, the old devil's building up to going over to Lucy's himself and giving her an official inspection. But why can't we introduce the idea to Brian? All we need is one of her friends tipping him off that while reclining voluptuously on her divan she got curious about what's going on up here. Ross-Donaldson would do it if you won't.'
'What would be the point?'
'My vivid mental picture of Lady Hazell's set-up convinces me that it's the very place for Brian. It would do him good. I can just see him with a parrot stuck to his shoulder, cross-questioning Lucy about her political affiliations.'
A car could be heard approaching the Mess.
'This will be Willie now,' said Naidu.
No more was said while the car came nearer and stopped, footsteps sounded outside and the front door shut. Hunter frowned at his glass of soda-water and drained it. After a moment Ayscue came into the room. He looked tired.
'He's dying,' he said, and went to the dressing-table and helped himself to whisky. 'In fact it's quite possible he's dead already. They said it was just a matter of hours, if that. He's been in deep coma since this morning.'
'Have they decided what it is?' asked Hunter.
'They didn't seem too definite, no. Some type of meningitis. Not a type that responds to drugs, apparently. There was a specialist there of sorts. He told me he was satisfied they'd done all they could.'
'I.e. they'd put him to bed,' said Churchill.
He too went and poured a drink, glancing inquiringly at Naidu, who shook his head slightly.
'He looked like somebody sleeping,' Ayscue went on. 'Very flushed, that was about all. There was nothing I could do for him. Young Pearce said he wanted to stay, so I wrote him a twelve-hour pass. I'll square it with the Adjutant in the morning.'
'How was he taking it?' asked Hunter.
'Pearce? Very well indeed. He was refusing to break down and cry, though it was absolutely all he could do not to. It seemed the best thing to leave him so that he could cry all he wanted. I asked him if he thought I could be of any help to him, and he said very tactfully that he was afraid not. So I came away.'
'He's having a whale of a time round about now, isn't he?' said Churchill vivaciously. 'That dispatch-rider last week. Fawkes today. Shaping up nicely, don't you think?'
Ayscue said in a weary tone, 'Probably a million people have died all over the world in that period. There hasn't been any-'
'Oh, sorry, I was overlooking that point. That makes it all right, of course.'
'James, I suggest you try to reconcile yourself to what can't be changed.'
'Why? Why should I? I can see no reason for ever stopping minding what's happening to Fawkes tonight. No good reason. Lots of bad ones. Laziness and cowardice. Inability to concentrate on what's important. Vulgar and unthought-out ideas about everything surely having to make sense and be all right in the end. Because if it doesn't and won't be, where does that leave us?'
Naidu said tentatively, 'If you will allow a word from one of a different and, I think I'm right in saying, older religion than yours, I would suggest-'
'I have no religion,' said Churchill.
'Oh, but a moment ago you were referring to some person, a lie,' who in your view was having a fine time with the deaths of certain people. I must confess I took this to refer to your God.'
'That was an anti-religious remark.'
'With the very greatest respect, James, it seems to me not suitable that you should be doing anything so trivial as attacking your religion at such a solemn time as this. The thought of the impending death of Corporal Fawkes
