‘I call it very cowardly of you,’ said Sophia, ‘your country should come first. Well, good-bye, I must be going,’ and she winked out rather inaccurately A, B and C. ‘I’m sure the Chief would raise your screw if you knew a bit of Morse,’ she said, and got up to go, followed by Rudolph who quite shamelessly left Olga to pay for the drinks.
‘Think how rich she must be with all that spying,’ he said happily, and kissed Sophia a great deal in the taxi. ‘Darling, heavenly to see you. I’ve got a fortnight’s leave.’
‘What were you doing with Baby Bagg?’
‘Just met her in the Ritz.’
‘After you had telephoned to tell her to go there, I suppose.’
‘Well, darling, in point of fact, I do feel rather intrigued about Olga’s job. I have a sort of feeling that there may be more in that little woman than meets the eye, and I must say she’s remarkably secretive. Now if you were a beautiful female spy, my own precious poppet, we should all know all about it in two days. For one thing of course, you would never be able to resist telling funny stories about your Chief. But Olga is as close as an oyster. I must have another go at her before my leave comes to an end.’
Sophia was very much nettled by the unfairness of all this. Had she told a single funny story about her Chief? Had she not been a counter-spy for a whole day without hinting a word of it to anybody? Of course, she had been about to take Rudolph into her confidence; now nothing would induce her to do so. She would pay him out for being so horrid to her. Besides he must be broken of this new predilection for Olga; it was becoming a bore.
‘Yes, do,’ she said; ‘have another go at her. Have it now, won’t you – much more convenient for me actually because I want to dine with Heatherley.’
‘Heatherley? You don’t mean Egg? You don’t mean that fearful red-headed brute who told us what the President said? Darling Sophia – besides, you’re dining with me, you said you would. I haven’t seen you for weeks.’
‘Darling, I’m terribly sorry, but I haven’t seen Heth all day and there are masses of things I want to talk over with him.’
Rudolph said no more. He stopped the cab, got out into the street, told the man to go on to Granby Gate, hailed another cab going in the opposite direction, jumped into it and disappeared.
Sophia minded rather. She had been pleased to see Rudolph, and excited at the idea of spending an evening with him, more pleased and more excited even than she generally was when she had been separated from him for some time, but he must be taught a lesson. It was quite bad enough for him not to say that he was coming on leave, and to let her find him sitting at the Ritz with Olga. But to have him comparing her in a denigrating manner with that pseudo-Muscovite was altogether intolerable. Women are divided into two categories: those who can deal with the men they are in love with, and those who cannot. Sophia was one of those who can.
When she arrived at her house she found a merry meeting of the Brotherhood was in full and joyous progress. Brothers and Sisters were overflowing from all the reception rooms, and the downstairs lavatory was in constant use. A large photograph of Brother Bones was propped up on the drawing-room piano with a bunch of lilies in front of it, for it was the Brother’s birthday. Sophia hurried into the lift, and going to the top floor she got the key of her bedroom from Elsie, who had instructions always to lock it on these occasions against the quiet-timers. Sophia had a very hot bath and changed her clothes. Then she went to look for Heth. It was rather a long search, ending in the coal-hole where he was in earnest converse with one of the thin-haired young ladies. Being members of the Brotherhood they were, of course, not at all abashed at being found in such curious circumstances; they merely showed their gums.
Sophia beckoned to Heatherley and whispered in his ear, ‘There will be dinner for two in my small sitting-room in about half an hour. I hope you will join me there.’
Heatherley accepted at once. There was always, at these meetings, a large brotherly buffet-meal in the dining-room for which the food was always ordered by Florence, was cold, of the fork variety, non-alcoholic, and very dull. Sophia had an exquisite cook and a pretty taste in food herself, and Luke’s wine was not to be sniffed at.
Exactly at the appointed time Heatherley tried the door of the small sitting-room. It was locked. Sophia knew all about the Brothers by now. They would come into her room, and brightly assuring her that she did not disturb them, begin an all-in wrestling match with their souls. She had told Florence that meetings could only take place at 98 Granby Gate, on condition that the Brothers were neither to use the lift nor be guided to force open any doors which they might find locked.
Heatherley announced himself, upon which Sophia let him in. Dinner was waiting on a hot plate, and they helped themselves. Sophia thought he looked like Uriah Heap, and wished she had a more attractive counter-spy to work with, somebody, say, like the ruthless young German in The Thirty-Nine Steps; it was impossible to take much pleasure in the company of Heth. How fortunate she loved her work for its own sake (and that of Olga).
With an alluring smile she gave him some soup.
‘What was agony 22 for?’ she said.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘The word, or letters, or code, or whatever it was you
