friend. Apart from his eyes, he always looks as though he were made from wood. And that wonderful little stiff bow of his – as though you'd pulled a string.'
'It's because he's so very tall and thin.'
'Not so very tall. About my height – five foot eleven or six foot, not more.'
'Height is deceptive.'
'Yes, it's like descriptions on passports. Take Ericsson. Height six foot, fair hair, blue eyes, face long, demeanour wooden, nose medium, mouth ordinary. Even add what a passport wouldn't – speaks correctly but pedantically – you still wouldn't have the first idea what Torquil really looked like. What's the matter?'
'Nothing.'
She was staring across the room at Ericsson. That description of Boris Glydr! Almost word for word as she had heard it from Jessop. Was that why she had always felt nervous of Torquil Ericsson? Could it possibly be that – Turning abruptly to Peters she said,
'I suppose he is Ericsson? He couldn't be someone else?'
Peters looked at her in astonishment.
'Someone else? Who?'
'I mean – at least I think I mean – could he have come here pretending to be Ericsson?'
Peters considered.
'I suppose – no, I don't think that would be feasible. He'd have to be a scientist… and anyway, Ericsson is quite well known.'
'But nobody here seems ever to have met him before – or I suppose he could be Ericsson, but be someone else as well.'
'You mean Ericsson could have been leading some kind of double life? That's possible, I suppose. But it's not very likely.'
'No,' said Hilary. 'No, of course it isn't likely.'
Of course Ericsson was not Boris Glydr. But why should Olive Betterton have been so insistent on warning Tom against Boris? Could it have been because she knew that Boris was on his way to the Unit? Supposing the man who had come to London calling himself Boris Glydr was not Boris Glydr at all? Supposing that he was really Torquil Ericsson. The description fitted. Ever since he arrived at the Unit, he had focused his attention on Tom. Ericsson, she was sure, was a dangerous person, you didn't know what went on behind those pale dreamy eyes…
She shivered.
'Olive – what's the matter? What is it?'
'Nothing. Look. The Deputy Director is going to make an announcement'
Dr. Neilson was holding up his hand for silence. He spoke into the microphone on the platform of the Hall.
'Friends and colleagues. Tomorrow you are asked to remain in the Emergency Wing. Please assemble at 11:00 A.M. when there will be roll call. Emergency orders are for twenty-four hours only. I much regret the inconvenience. A notice has been pasted on the board.'
He retired smiling. The music began again.
'I must pursue the Jennsen again,' said Peters. 'I see her looking earnest by a pillar. I want to hear just what these Emergency quarters consist of.'
He moved away. Olive sat thinking. Was she an imaginative fool? Torquil Ericsson? Boris Glydr?
IV
Roll call was in the big lecture room. Everyone was present and answered to his or her name. Then they were marshalled into a long column and marched off.
The route was, as usual, through a maze of winding corridors. Olive, walking by Peters, knew that he had concealed in his hand, a tiny compass. From this, unobtrusively, he was calculating their direction.
'Not that it helps,' he observed ruefully in a low tone. 'Or at any rate it doesn't help at the moment. But it may do – some time.'
At the end of the corridor they were following was a door and there was a momentary halt as the door was opened.
Peters took out his cigarette case – but immediately Van Heidem's voice was raised peremptorily.
'No smoking, please. That has already been told you.'
'Sorry, sir.'
Peters paused with the cigarette case in his hand. Then they all went forward again.
'Just like sheep,' said Olive disgustedly.
'Cheer up,' Peter murmured. 'Baa, baa, black sheep is among the flock, thinking up devilry hard.'
She flashed him a grateful glance and smiled.
'Women's dormitory to the right,' said Miss Jennsen. She shepherded the women off in the direction indicated.
The men were fallen off to the left.
The dormitory was a large room of hygiene appearance rather like a hospital ward. It had beds along the walls with curtains of plastic material that could be pulled for privacy. There was a locker by each bed.
'You will find arrangements rather simple,' said Miss Jennsen, 'but not too primitive. The bathroom accommodation is through there to the right. The communal living' room is through the door at the end.'
The communal living room where they all met again was plainly furnished rather like an airport waiting room – there was a bar and snack counter at one side. Along the other side was a row of book shelves.
The day passed quite agreeably. There were two cinema performances shown on a small portable screen.
The lighting was of the daylight type which tended to obscure the fact that there were no windows. Towards evening a fresh set of bulbs came on – soft and discreet night lighting.
'Clever,' said Peters appreciatively. 'It all helps to minimize the feeling of being walled up alive.'
How helpless they all were, thought Hilary. Somewhere, quite near them, were a party from the outside world. And there was no means of communicating with them, of appealing for help. As usual, everything had been ruthlessly and efficiently planned.
Peters was sitting with Miss Jennsen. Hilary suggested to the Murchisons that they should play bridge. Tom Betterton refused. He said he couldn't concentrate, but Dr. Barron made a fourth.
Oddly enough, Hilary found the game enjoyable. It was half past eleven when their third rubber came to an end, with herself and Dr. Barron the winners.
'I enjoyed that,' she said. She glanced at her watch. 'It's quite late. I suppose the V.I.P.'s will have left now – or do they spend the night here?'
'I don't really know,' said Simon Murchison. 'I believe one or two of the specially keen medicos stay over. Anyway, they'll all have gone by tomorrow midday.'
'And that's when we're put back in circulation?'
'Yes. About time, too. It upsets all one's routine, this sort of thing.'
'But it is well arranged,' said Bianca with approval.
She and Hilary got up and said goodnight to the two men.
Hilary stood back a little to allow Bianca to precede her into the dimly lit dormitory. As she did so, she felt a soft touch on her arm.
She turned sharply to find one of the tall dark faced servants standing beside her.
He spoke in a low urgent voice in French.
'S'il vous plait, Madame, you are to come.'
'Come? Come where?'
'If you will please follow me.'
She stood irresolute for a moment.
Bianca had gone on into the dormitory. In the communal living room the few persons left were engaged in
