He slammed the door behind him, walked over to the table, and looked grimly at George and Miss Kolin. His face was pinched and grey with anger. Suddenly he threw two small, bright yellow tubes down on the table in front of them.
“All right,” he said. “Which of you is it? Or is it both of you?”
The tubes were about an inch and a half long and half an inch thick. They looked as if they had been cut from bamboo and then coloured. The three round the table stared at them, then up at Arthur again.
“What is this?” snapped the Sergeant.
Arthur burst into an angry torrent of Greek. George glanced at Miss Kolin. Her face was still impassive, but she had gone very pale. Then Arthur stopped speaking and there was silence.
The Sergeant picked up one of the tubes, then looked from it to George and Miss Kolin. The muscles of his face set. He nodded to Arthur.
“Explain to Mr. Carey.”
“As if he didn’t know!” Arthur’s lips tightened. “All right. Someone left a trail of these things from the culvert up here. One every fifty metres or so for someone else to follow. One of the lads coming up with a light spotted them.”
The Sergeant said something in German.
Arthur nodded. “I put the rest out collecting them all before I came to report.” He looked at George. “Any idea who might have dropped them, Mr. Carey? I found one of these two wedged between the canvas and the body of the truck, so don’t start trying to play dumb.”
“Dumb or not,” George said steadily, “I don’t know anything about them. What are they?”
The Sergeant got slowly to his feet. George could see a pulse going in his throat as he drew George’s open briefcase towards him and looked inside. Then he shut it.
“Perhaps one should ask the lady,” he said.
Miss Kolin sat absolutely rigid, looking straight in front of her.
Suddenly, he reached down and picked up her satchel from the floor by her chair.
“You permit?” he said, and, thrusting his hand into it, drew out a tangle of thin cord.
He pulled on the cord slowly. A yellow tube came into view and then another, then a handful of the things, red and blue as well as yellow. They were strings of wooden beads of the kind used for making bead curtains. George knew now that it was not a bottle of brandy that had made the satchel so bulky. He began to feel sick.
“So!” The Sergeant dropped the beads on the table. “Did you know of this, Mr. Carey?”
“No.”
“That’s right, too,” Arthur put in suddenly. “It was Little Miss Muffet here who wanted the canvas over the truck. Didn’t want him to see what she was up to.”
“For God’s sake, Miss Kolin!” George said angrily. “What do you think you’re playing at?”
She stood up resolutely, as if she were about to propose a vote of no-confidence at a public meeting, and turned to George. She did not even glance at Arthur or the Sergeant. “I should explain, Mr. Carey,” she said coldly, “that, in the interests of justice and in view of your refusal to take any steps yourself in the matter, I considered it my duty to telephone Colonel Chrysantos in Salonika and inform him, on your behalf, that the men who robbed the Eurasian Credit Bank were here. On his instructions, I marked the route from the culvert, so that his troops could…”
The Sergeant’s fist hit her full in the mouth and she crashed into the corner of the room where the empty bottles stood.
George leaped to his feet. As he did so the barrel of Arthur’s gun jabbed painfully into his side.
“Stand still, chum, or you’ll get hurt,” Arthur said. “She’s been asking for this and now she’s going to get it.”
Miss Kolin was on her knees, the blood trickling from her cut lip. They all stood watching her as she climbed slowly to her feet. Suddenly she picked up a bottle and flung it at the Sergeant. He did not move. It missed him by a few inches and smashed against the opposite wall. He stepped forward and hit her hard across the face with the back of his hand. She went down again. She had made no sound. She still made no sound. After a moment she began to get to her feet again.
“I’m stopping this,” said George angrily, and started to move.
The gun dug into his side. “You try, chum, and you’ll get a bullet in the kidneys. It’s nothing to do with you, so shut up!”
Miss Kolin picked up another bottle. There was blood running from her nose now. She faced the Sergeant again.
“Du Schuft!” she said venomously, and hurled herself at him.
He brushed the bottle aside and hit her again in the face with his fist. When she fell this time she did not try to get up, but lay there gasping.
The Sergeant went to the door and opened it. The sentry who had summoned Arthur was waiting there. The Sergeant beckoned him in, pointed to Miss Kolin, and gave an order in Greek. The sentry grinned and slung his rifle across his back. Then he went over to Miss Kolin and hauled her to her feet. She stood there swaying and wiping the blood from her face with her hand. He gripped her arm and said something to her. Without a word, and without looking at any of them, she began to walk towards the door.
“Miss Kolin-” George started forward.
She took no notice. The sentry pushed him aside and followed her out of the room. The door closed.
Sickened and trembling, George turned to face the Sergeant.
“Easy, chum,” said Arthur. “None of the hero-to-the-rescue stuff. It won’t wash here.”
“Where’s she being taken?” George demanded.
The Sergeant was licking the blood off one of his knuckles. He glanced at George and then, sitting down at the table, took the passport from Miss Kolin’s satchel.
“Maria Kolin,” he remarked. “French.”
“I asked where she’s being taken.”
Arthur was standing behind him still. “I wouldn’t try getting tough, Mr. Carey,” he advised. “Don’t forget, you brought her here.”
The Sergeant was examining the passport. “Born in Belgrade,” he said. “Slav.” He shut the passport with a snap. “And now we will talk a little.”
George waited. The Sergeant’s eyes rested on his.
“How did you find out, Mr. Carey?”
George hesitated.
“Talk fast, chum.”
“The truck the Corporal brought us up in-it had slots for false number-plates and the plates were lying inside on the floor of the truck. They were the same numbers as those mentioned in the Salonika papers.”
Arthur swore.
The Sergeant nodded curtly. “So! You knew this last night?”
“Yes.”
“But you did not go to the police today?”
“What I did was to cable in code to my office to find out what the extradition treaty between America and Greece says about armed bank robbery.”
“Please?”
Arthur explained in Greek.
The Sergeant nodded. “That was good. Did she know you do this?”
“Yes.”
“Then why does she tell Chrysantos?”
“She doesn’t like Germans.”
“Ah, so?”
George looked down pointedly at the Sergeant’s hands. “I understand her feelings.”
“Easy, chum.”
The Sergeant smiled enigmatically. “You understand her feelings? I do not think so.”
The sentry came in, gave the Sergeant a key with a word of explanation, and went out again.
