Ashenden did not reply. They eyed one another in a detached manner, as though they were strangers who sat together in a railway carriage and each wondered who and what the other was.
“In your place I’d leave the General to do most of the talking. I wouldn’t tell him more about yourself than you find absolutely necessary. He won’t ask you any questions, I can promise you that, I think he’s by way of being a gentleman after his own fashion.”
“By the way, what is his real name?”
“I always call him Manuel, I don’t know that he likes it very much, his name is Manuel Carmona.”
“I gather by what you have not said that he’s an unmitigated scoundrel.”
R. smiled with his pale blue eyes.
“I don’t know that I’d go quite so far as that. He hasn’t had the advantages of a public-school education. His ideas of playing the game are not quite the same as yours or mine. I don’t know that I’d leave a gold cigarette-case about when he was in the neighbourhood, but if he lost money to you at poker and had pinched your cigarette-case he would immediately pawn it to pay you. If he had half a chance he’d seduce your wife, but if you were up against it he’d share his last crust with you. The tears will run down his face when he hears Gounod’s ‘Ave Maria’ on the gramophone, but if you insult his dignity he’ll shoot you like a dog. It appears that in Mexico it’s an insult to get between a man and his drink and he told me himself that once when a Dutchman who didn’t know passed between him and the bar he whipped out his revolver and shot him dead.”
“Did nothing happen to him?”
“No, it appears that he belongs to one of the best families. The matter was hushed up and it was announced in the papers that the Dutchman had committed suicide. He did practically. I don’t believe the Hairless Mexican has a great respect for human life.”
Ashenden who had been looking intently at R. started a little and he watched more carefully than ever his chief’s tired, lined and yellow face. He knew that he did not make this remark for nothing.
“Of course a lot of nonsense is talked about the value of human life. You might just as well say that the counters you use at poker have an intrinsic value, their value is what you like to make it; for a general giving battle, men are merely counters and he’s a fool if he allows himself for sentimental reasons to look upon them as human beings.”
“But, you see, they’re counters that feel and think and if they believe they’re being squandered they are quite capable of refusing to be used any more.”
“Anyhow, that’s neither here nor there. We’ve had information that a man called Constantine Andreadi is on his way from Constantinople with certain documents that we want to get hold of. He’s a Greek. He’s an agent of Enver Pasha and Enver has great confidence in him. He’s given him verbal messages that are too secret and too important to be put on paper. He’s sailing from the Piraeus, on a boat called the Ithaca, and will land at Brindisi on his way to Rome. He’s to deliver his dispatches at the German embassy and impart what he has to say personally to the ambassador.”
“I see.”
At this time Italy was still neutral; the Central Powers were straining every nerve to keep her so; the Allies were doing what they could to induce her to declare war on their side.
“We don’t want to get into any trouble with the Italian authorities, it might be fatal, but we’ve got to prevent Andreadi from getting to Rome.”
“At any cost?” asked Ashenden.
“Money’s no object,” answered R., his lips twisting into a sardonic smile.
“What do you propose to do?”
“I don’t think you need bother your head about that.”
“I have a fertile imagination,” said Ashenden.
“I want you to go down to Naples with the Hairless Mexican. He’s very keen on getting back to Cuba. It appears that his friends are organising a show and he wants to be as near at hand as possible so that he can hop over to Mexico when things are ripe. He needs cash. I’ve brought money down with me, in American dollars, and I shall give it to you tonight. You’d better carry it on your person.”
“Is it much?”
“It’s a good deal, but I thought it would be easier for you if it wasn’t bulky, so I’ve got it in thousand-dollar notes. You will give the Hairless Mexican the notes in return for the documents that Andreadi is bringing.”
A question sprang to Ashenden’s lips, but he did not ask it. He asked another instead.
“Does this fellow understand what he has to do?”
“Perfectly.”
There was a knock at the door. It opened and the Hairless Mexican stood before them.
“I have arrived. Good evening, Colonel. I am enchanted to see you.”
R. got up.
“Had a nice journey, Manuel? This is Mr. Somerville, who’s going to Naples with you, General Carmona.”
“Pleased to meet you, sir.”
He shook Ashenden’s hand with such force that he winced.
“Your hands are like iron, General,” he murmured.
The Mexican gave them a glance.
“I had them manicured this morning. I do not think they were very well done. I like my nails much more highly polished.”
They were cut to a point, stained bright red, and to Ashenden’s mind shone like mirrors. Though it was not cold the General wore a fur coat with an astrakhan collar and with his every movement a wave of perfume was wafted to your nose.
“Take off your coat, General, and have a cigar,” said R.
The Hairless Mexican was a tall man, and though thinnish gave you the impression of being very powerful; he was smartly dressed in a blue serge suit, with a silk handkerchief neatly tucked in the breast pocket of his coat, and he wore a gold
