Presently he heard her stirring in an abrupt restless way which warned him that the sedative was losing its effect. He was silent.
She shuffled again, coming closer, until her shoulder touched his. He could feel her trembling. It would have helped if he could have held her. But his wrists were bound so tightly that his hands were already numb; long ago he had tried every trick he knew to release himself, but the knots had been too scientifically tied, and anything with which he might have cut himself free had been taken from him while he was unconscious.
Because there was nothing else he could do, he kissed her, more gently than he had ever done before. For a while she gave herself up hungrily to the kiss; and then she dragged her lips desperately away.
'Oh hell,' she sobbed. 'I always thought it'd be so marvellous if you ever did that, and now it just makes everything worse.'
'I know,' he said. 'It must be dreadful to feel so safe.'
Then she giggled a little hysterically, and presently her head drooped on his shoulder and they were quiet for a long time. He sat very still, trying to strengthen and comfort her with his own calm, and the truth is that his thoughts were very far away.
In the kitchen two men sat smoking moodily. The plate on the kitchen table between them was piled high with ash and the ends of stubbed-out cigarettes.
One of them was Pietri. He was not coloured in tasteful stripes any more, but a certain raw redness combined with an unusually clean appearance about his face testified to the labour with which they had been removed. The shaven baldness of his head was concealed by a loud tweed cap which he refused to take off. The other man was quite young, with close-cropped fair hair and a prematurely hardened face. In his coat lapel he wore the button badge of the British Nazis.
He yawned, and said in the desultory way in which their conversation had been conducted for some hours: 'You know, it's a funny thing, but I never thought I'd have the job of putting the Saint out of action. In a way, I used to admire that fellow a bit at one time. Of course I knew he was a crook, but he always seemed a pretty sound chap at heart. When I read about him in the papers, I used to think he'd be worth having in the British Nazis. Of course he deserves what's coming to him, but I'm sort of glad I haven't got to give it to him myself.'
Pietri yawned more coarsely. He had no political leanings: he simply did what he was paid to do. To him the British Nazis were nothing but a gang of half-hearted amateur hooligans who got into scraps with the police and the populace without the incentive of making money out of it, which proved that they must be barmy. .
'You're new to this sort of thing, ain't you ?' he said pityingly.
'Oh, I don't know,' said the other touchily. 'I've beaten up plenty of bastards in my time.' He paused reminiscently. 'I was in a stunt last Sunday, when we broke up a Com munist meeting in Battersea Park. We gave them a revolution all right. There was an old rabbi on the platform with long white hair and white whiskers, and he was having a hell of a good time telling all the bloody Reds a lot of lies about Hitler. He's having a good time in the hospital now. I got him a beauty, smack in the mouth, and knocked his false teeth out and broke his jaw.' He sat up, cocking his ears. 'Hullo—this must be Bravache at last.'
He got up and went out of the kitchen and across the hall. His feelings were mixed: they were compounded partly of pride, partly of a sort of uneasy awe. He was a picked man, chosen because the leaders of the movement knew that his loyalty and efficiency could be absolutely relied on; he was one of the first to be entrusted with the business of liquidating an enemy. In future he would probably be detailed again for similar deadly errands. He was one of the storm troops, the striking force of the movement, and their duty was to be merciless. As he opened the front door, the young British Nazi saw himself being very strong and merciless, a figure of iron. It made him feel pretty good.
A two-seater sports car had drawn up beside the black Packard that was parked in the drive, and Bravache was already stumping up the
