'By all means.' The old man bustled round and cleared a heap of books from the only other chair in the room.
Then he offered his guest a cigarette. 'Won't you sit down?'
The other sat down diffidently. 'What do you think of the war?' he asked.
Howard said: 'I think it very serious. I don't like the news at all.'
'Nor do I. I hear you're going home?'
'Yes, I'm going back to England. I feel that at a time like this my place is there.'
There was a short silence. Then Cavanagh said: 'In Geneva we think that Switzerland will be invaded.'
Howard looked at him with interest. 'Do you, now! Is that going to be the next thing?'
'I think so. I think that it may happen very soon.'
There was a pause. Then Howard said: 'If that happened, what would you do?'
The little sandy-haired man from Geneva got up and walked over to the window. He stood for a moment looking out over the meadows and the pinewoods. Then he turned back into the room. 'I should have to stay in Geneva,' he said. 'I've got my work to do.'
'Would that be very - wise?'
'No,' said Cavanagh frankly. 'But it's what I have made up my mind to do.'
He came back and sat down again. 'I've been talking it over with Felicity,' he said. 'I've got to stay there. Even in German occupation there would still be work for us to do. It's not going to be pleasant. It's not going to be profitable. But it's going to be worth doing.'
'Would the Germans allow the League to function at all?'
'We have positive assurances that they will.'
'What does your wife think about it?' asked Howard.
'She thinks that it's the proper thing to do. She wants to come back to Geneva with me.'
'Oh The other turned to him. 'It's really about that that I looked in to see you,' he said. 'If we do that, things may go hardly with us before the war is over. If the Allies win they'll win by the blockade. There won't be much to eat in any German territory.'
Howard stared at the little man in wonder. 'I suppose not.' He had not credited Cavanagh with such cool courage.
'It's the children,' the other said apologetically. 'We were thinking - Felicity was wondering... if you could possibly take them back to England with you, when you go.'
He went on hurriedly, before Howard could speak: 'It's only just to take them to my sister's house in Oxford, up on Boars Hill. As a matter of fact, I could send her a telegram and she could meet you at Southampton with the car, and drive them straight to Oxford. It's asking an awful lot, I'm afraid. If you feel you couldn't manage it... we'll understand.'
Howard stared at him. 'My dear chap,' he said, 'I should be only too glad to do anything I can to help. But I must tell you, that at my age I don't stand travel very well. I was quite ill for a couple of days in Paris, on my way out here. I'm nearly seventy, you know. It would be safer if you put your children in the care of somebody a little more robust.'
Cavanagh said: 'That may be so. But as a matter of fact, there is nobody. The alternative would be for Felicity to take the children back to England herself.'
There was a pause. The old man said: 'I see. She doesn't want to do that?'
The other shook his head. 'We want to be together,' he said, a little pitifully. 'It may be for years.'
Howard stared at him. 'You can count on me to do anything within my power,' he said. 'Whether you would be wise to send the children home with me is something that you only can decide. If I were to die on the journey it might cause a good deal of trouble, both for your sister in Oxford and for the children.'
Cavanagh smiled. 'I'm quite prepared to take that risk,' he said. 'It's a small one compared with all the other risks one has to take these days.'
The old man smiled slowly. 'Well, I've been going seventy years and I've not died yet. I suppose I may last a few weeks longer.'
'Then you'll take them?'
'Of course I will, if that's what you want me to do.'
Cavanagh went away to tell his wife, leaving the old man in a flutter. He had planned to stay in Dijon and in Paris for a night as he had done on the way out; it now seemed to him that it would be wiser if he were to travel straight through to Calais. Actually it meant no changes in his arrangements to do that, because he had booked no rooms and taken no tickets. The changes were in his plans; he had to get accustomed to the new idea.
Could he manage the two children by himself, or would it be wiser to engage a village girl from Cidoton to travel with them as far as Calais to act as a bonne? He did not know if a girl could be found to come with them. Perhaps Madame Lucard would know somebody...
It was only later that he realised that Calais was in German hands, and that his best route across the Channel would be by way of St Malo to Southampton.
He came down presently, and met Felicity Cavanagh in the salon. She caught his hand. 'It's so very, very kind of you to do this for us,' she said. It seemed to hun that she had been crying a little.
'Not in the least,' he said. 'I shall enjoy having them as travelling companions.'
She smiled. 'I've just told them. They're simply thrilled. They're terribly excited to be going home with you.' It was the first time that he had heard her speak of England as home.
He broached the matter of a girl to her, and they went together to see Madame Lucard. But Cidoton proved to be incapable of producing anybody willing to go with them to St Malo, or even as far as Paris. 'It doesn't matter in the least,' said Howard. 'After all, we shall be home in twenty-four hours. I'm sure we shall get on famously together.'
She looked at him. 'Would you like me to come with you as far as Paris? I could do that, and then go back to Geneva.'
He said: 'Not at all - not at all. You stay with your man. Just tell me about their clothes and what they say, er, when they want to retire. Then you won't need to worry any more about them.'
He went up with her that evening to see them in bed. He said to Ronald: 'So you're coming back to England with me, eh, to stay with your auntie?'
The little boy looked up at him with shining eyes. 'Yes, please! Are we going in a train?'
Howard said: 'Yes, we'll be a long time in the train.'
'Will it have a steam engine, or a 'lectric one?'
'Oh - a steam engine, I think. Yes, certainly, a steam engine.'
'How many wheels will it have?' But this was past the old man's capacity.
Sheila piped up. 'Will we have dinner in the train?'
'Yes,' he said, 'you'll have your dinner in the train. I expect you'll have your tea and your breakfast in it too.'
'Oo... Oo,' she said. And then, incredulously, 'Breakfast in the train?'
Ronald stared at him. 'Where will we sleep?'
His father said: 'You'll sleep in the train, Ronnie. In a little bed to yourself.'
'Really sleep in the train?' He swung round to the old man. 'Mr Howard, please - may I sleep next to the engine?'
Sheila said: 'Me too. I want to sleep next to the engine.'
Presently their mother got them settled down to sleep. She followed the men downstairs. 'I'm fixing up with Madame Lucard to pack a hamper with all your meals,' she said. 'It'll be easier for you to give them their meals in the wagon lit than to bother with them in the restaurant car.'
Howard said: 'That's really very kind. It's much better that way.'
She smiled. 'I know what it is, travelling with children.'
He dined with them that night, and went early to bed. He was pleasantly tired, and slept very well; he woke early, as he usually did, and lay in bed revolving in his mind all the various matters that he had to attend to. Finally he got up, feeling uncommonly well. It did not occur to him that this was because he had a job to do, for the
