Traitors' Gate

As he sat down again, Gregory said with a smile,' "Nothing" is an all embracing word. I hardly think you would stick to it if, in exchange for your cooperation, I were in a position to make you President of Moldavia or, say, Chief of the Moldavian General Staff.'

Kasdar gave a deep laugh. 'But, my friend, you are not.'

'True. Yet you give as your reason for refusing your help fear of ruining your career. Hasn't it occurred to you that I might be able to assist you in it?'

'I do not see how.'

'Just now, when I spoke of my wish to gain for myself a privileged position, should the Germans ever occupy this country, you remarked that we were birds of a feather. If you really meant that you must have been thinking on the same lines. Moldavia, we both know, is at Herr Hitler's mercy. He has allowed it to remain isolated and neutral only because it suits him to do so; just as is the case with Switzerland. When the war is over and he remakes Europe he will either absorb Moldavia, or at least see that it is run by a puppet government under Nazi direction. When that day comes, it will be the officers who have shown their Nazi sympathies during the war who will be certain of rapid promotion, and the better they have served Germany the higher the posts to which they will be appointed.

'Naturally. And I admit that it is with just such a future in mind that I serve the Germans.'

'Well, I could enable you to serve them better. As you know, I work in the Offices of the War Cabinet.'

Kasdar's eyes opened wide and he suddenly sat forward. 'You… you mean that you would supply me with valuable information.'

Gregory nodded. 'By doing so I should be securing my future as well as helping yours. But I shall be taking a far greater risk than you will; so I want part payment in advance. You may think it quixotic of me to wish to save Sabine for Herr Ribbentrop, but I love her, and there it is. My price is that if I can get her out of the Tower you should get her safely out of the country.'

"That is easier said than done.'

'I feel confident you could arrange it. To fly her out would, I imagine, be impossible. But she could be picked up by a U-boat from some lonely spot on the coast.'

'I cannot see the Germans risking one of their U-boats for such a purpose unless, that is, we could first get her to Eire. I gather that they look in fairly frequently at secret rendezvous along the southwest coast. As Eire is neutral, simply to get her there would be enough. It could then be left to the German Embassy in Dublin to make further arrangements for her.'

'Yes, she would be safe from recapture in Eire, but how would you get her there? Remember, she would not have a passport.'

'I could get a Moldavian passport faked up for her.'

'No good.' Gregory shook his head. 'If I get her out of the Tower it will be known by eight o'clock the following morning. M.I.5's security network is extremely efficient. Within half an hour officials at every port in Britain will be on the lookout for her. There aren't a great number of Moldavians here, and as she is known to have been turning her stuff in to the Moldavian Embassy, anyone attempting to leave on a Moldavian passport is certain to be subjected to special security. No disguise, however excellent, could possibly stand up to it. They would get her for certain.'

T fear you are right.'

'Surely you have other recourses, or by a secret cypher telegram to Germany could have them made available to you. I know that M.I.5 has succeeded in clearing the country of active German agents; but among the enormous number of refugees who settled in Britain before the war, and kept on coming in right up to the time of Dunkirk, there must be a number of Nazi sympathisers who are listed and could be made use of at a pinch. If Sabine is to be got to Eire she will need places to lie hidden in for a few days until the hunt slackens off, then a small boat and a crew that will ask no questions to run her across from some little fishing village in Wales. If you cannot manage such requirements, I've no doubt Berlin could provide them for you.'

Kasdar waved the suggestion away. 'You are wrong, my friend, and I will tell you why. The Germans have three separate secret services. First that of the Abwehr: the original Military Intelligence Branch, run by Admiral Canaris. Second and now far bigger, that built up by Heydrich as the ears and eyes of the Nazi Party, which operates as a Department of the Gestapo, under Himmler. Third, a quite small organization run as a private intelligence service by Herr Ribbentrop, whose sources are confined to diplomatic channels. Not only are all three independent, but the jealousy of their Chiefs is such that none of them would lift a finger to help an agent of one of the others. It is possible that the Gestapo have the sort of facilities here that you suggest, but I doubt if the Abwehr have, and I am quite certain that Ribbentrop's private system has nothing of the kind and, of course, it is with this last that Sabine and myself are associated.'

The statement confirmed what Gregory had supposed to be the situation; so he said: 'In that case we are thrown back on our own resources. I am in no position to hide Sabine with anybody even for a night, much less find a crew to take her across the Irish Channel. Could you not secure the help of some of the Moldavians who are living in the country? It should be possible to buy a boat and perhaps you could get hold of some Moldavian seamen to man it?'

After considering for a moment, the Colonel replied, 'As you must be aware, we Moldavians are not a seafaring people. Most of the ships we owned were cargo vessels trading in the Mediterranean. Since the war they have been chartered to the Axis. A few, of course, were on the oceans, and those that have not been sunk are under charter to the Allies; but there are never more than a handful of Moldavian sailors in British ports. The only ones actually resident here, as far as I know, are the crews of our tugs.'

'Tugs!' repeated Gregory quickly. 'How do you come to have tugs here?'

'We had four on order in British shipyards when the war broke out. Normally, when completed they would have been sent round by the Black Sea to us for work on the Danube. Two were actually about to sail and the British made a move to commandeer them. But we resisted it, and a compromise was reached by which it was agreed that we should supply crews for them and they should fly the Moldavian flag, but be chartered by the Ministry of Shipping for the duration. They are powerful vessels so suitable for coastal work, and are employed in bringing strings of coal barges down from Newcastle to London. One has been sunk but three are still in service.'

Gregory leaned forward with sudden excitement. 'I believe this might be the solution to our problem. The essence of success is to get Sabine away quickly. Once the hunt is on police all over Britain will be holding up cars to check the people in them. That's why I don't like the idea of taking her right across England. We would probably have to make two bites at the cherry; and we'd certainly not be able to get her away to sea the same night. On the other hand, a car could run her down to the. Kent or Essex coast before her escape had been discovered, and if one of your tugs could pick her up she would be pretty well in the clear.'

'You speak of my tugs. But they are chartered by the British Government.'

'I know; but you say they are manned by Moldavian crews. Therefore the real points at issue are: could you 'induce whoever in the Moldavian Embassy is responsible for these tugs to order the Captain of one of them to take her across to the Continent and, on receiving such an order, would he and his crew obey it?'

'It is I who am responsible. Apart from a few gunboats on the Danube, Moldavia has no navy; so her Military Attaches include in their duties such very occasional naval matters as arise. Since the tugs were built to the order of my Government. and not to that of a private company, it was decided that it was more suitable that I should arrange about their charter, rather than our Commercial Attaché. As for obeying, yes I think so. They are simple seamen, and in a matter like this there is some compensation to be gained from Moldavia's being a rather backward country. Her lower orders are patriotic, so willing to take risks for her, and they are still accustomed to accept without question orders from highly placed men of their own nationality, such as myself.'

'All this sounds almost too good to be true.'

'One moment, please.' The Colonel raised his hand. I was about to add that living in Britain for so long will certainly have made many of them pro Ally. Some of them, too, have married English girls, and perhaps intend to make their homes here for good. So although they are by nature patriotic and well disciplined, some of them would obey only with reluctance. And there is always the chance that, rather than leave England, one of them would betray our intentions.'

'I appreciate that; but there is also the other side of the picture. For over three years all of them have been cut off from their homeland. Some of them must be cursing the war which keeps them in compulsory exile and looks as if it will never end. I have no doubt that there are quite a number who would give anything for a chance to get back to their wives and families. Couldn't you sound the Captains? Find out which of them is eager to get home. Then set him to sound the men of all the crews. As soon as he had reported to you, you could order a reshuffling of crews, so that all the pro home birds are concentrated in one tug. Get the idea?'

'I do; and it is a good one. But to do as you suggest would take some time.'

'True; but there is no immediate urgency. I think I can drag out Sabine's interrogation until early November.'

'In that case, yes; I think I could arrange things. There remains, though, the problem of detaching the chosen tug from its normal service.'

'That should not be difficult. At the appropriate time, either on her run up to Newcastle or down to London, somewhere between Clacton and the Nore, she would develop engine trouble and would have to put in to one of the small yacht harbours either Brightlingsea or Burnham on Crouch. While her string of barges lay safe at anchor, her engineer would be tinkering with her engine, perhaps for two or three days, until he got the O.K. from you. Then that evening she would put to sea, without her barges, for a trial, pick up Sabine in the early hours a few miles along the coast and, of course, never come back.'

'A brilliant conception,' murmured the Colonel, stroking his moustache. 'Yes, a brilliant conception. I really believe this might be done. But let us talk now of another matter. May I take it that in exchange for my help you are ready to give me the date and the objective of this great operation that is now being mounted in your Northern Ports?'

His question was a facer. Gregory had known that it must arise ultimately, but he had no intention of going so far so soon; so he temporized, by saying 'Then you know about that?'

'Naturally. There are Moldavians living in every city in Britain. They are not spies, but the more responsible of them regard it as their duty to keep their eyes open and to pass on to their Embassy anything of interest they may see. It would be childish to expect no one to notice the hundreds of ships that are being concentrated in the Clyde and the masses of troops that are almost bursting out of the transit camps that have been constructed in that area.'

Gregory smiled. 'Yes, even the best security measures could not conceal from anyone in your position that a big show is impending. But I can tell you neither its D-Day nor its objective. You see, I am not on the Joint Planning Staff; I only work in the Map Room.'

Kasdar's face suddenly hardened. 'I trust you have not been trifling with me. There are big risks attached to getting Sabine out of this country, and I am not prepared to take them unless you can give me something really worth while.'

'I hope to. Security inside the Cabinet Offices is bound to loosen up as D-Day approaches. As soon as I can get anything definite I will pass it on to you.'

'That is not good enough. Even in sounding these tug Captains I shall run some risk of betrayal. If the matter is to be proceeded with at all such preliminaries should be got on with right away. But I will not risk so much as an eyelash unless you are prepared to give me here and now some evidence of your good faith.'

'Very well. At least I am certain of this much. It is to be an Anglo-American operation and the Commander in Chief is to be the American, General Eisenhower. The Task Force Commanders will be Generals Patton and Mark Clark and the G.O.C. British troops General Sir Kenneth Anderson.'

'Good. What you tell me is of great interest. We heard a rumour that this General Eisenhower had been appointed C-in-C; yet we could not believe it, because until recently he was only a Major General, and can have had little experience of war.'

Gregory shrugged. 'None of the Americans has; but he was their Chief Planner, and is General Marshall's blue-eyed boy.'

'That explains the matter,' Kasdar nodded, and went on briskly. 'Now tell me about the Order of Battle of this expeditionary force.'

'I don't know it,' Gregory spread out his hands. 'But I may be able to get it for you in a few days' time.'

'That, and the date of D-Day and the objective. All these I must have if to do as you wish is to be worth my while.'

I will do my best; and I have already given you something for nothing. It is up to you now to investigate the situation and, if possible, to arrange for one of the tugs to be available on the Essex coast early in November. I suggest that you come here again at the same hour on Saturday next. That is, the 31st; by then both of us should be in a position to say whether we are able or unable to carry out our sides of the deal.'

The Moldavian agreed and left soon afterwards. When he had gone Gregory mixed himself another very stiff whisky and soda. In one way the interview had terminated far better than he had thought at all likely. They had actually agreed on a possible means of getting Sabine out of the country, and with out the dangers and delays incumbent on transporting her to Eire. But he had had to pass on some of the secret information that he had extracted from Sir Pellinore the previous night. He could not think that the Germans were going to derive any important benefit from learning the names of the principal Commanders of the expedition; but, all the same, that had been graded 'Most Secret,' and the knowledge that, owing to him, it would shortly be known in Berlin made him gulp the whisky down more quickly.

How he was to keep the ball rolling on Saturday was a matter that he did not yet care to think about. It was clear now that Kasdar was not prepared to go through with the business unless he received his pound of flesh; and to give it to him without one drop of good red blood seemed practically impossible. It could be done only by positively split-second timing. That meant, Gregory knew, that during the final preparations for Sabine's rescue he would be walking on eggshells; and he knew too that if he went through them he would deserve to be shot.

It was not until Thursday that he saw Sabine again. In accordance with their arrangement, she had used the pills he had left with her to keep herself in a state of low fever for the past five days, but was now reported well again. With him he took to the Tower some warmer clothes for her, which included a black turtleneck sweater, black slacks and a black coat, and three bottles of port wine.

He unpacked the suitcase in which he had brought these items in front of Mrs. Sutton, gave the wine into her charge and said, 'I have had to pay for this myself, but I'm hoping that it may help to loosen up our prisoner's tongue. What I want you to do is to give her a bottle each evening after she has had her meal and let her drink as much as she likes. At the end of the week I mean to pay her some evenings visits, and if she has been knocking back the port for an hour or two before I put in an appearance I may get something really worth while out of her.'

'Very good, sir.' Mrs. Sutton accepted his instructions and remarked: 'I bet the Nazis would find a less expensive way to make her talk.' Then she added with a laugh, 'A drop of anything good is so hard to come by these days, it almost makes me wish 1 were in her shoes.'

Gregory laughed too, and, taking the clothes, went in to see Sabine. He told her nothing about his talk with Kasdar and only, to keep her spirits up, that although he had as yet not been able to formulate any definite plan for getting her out, he had various ideas on the subject and was determined to make the attempt when he had decided which offered the best prospect of success.

First thing next morning he went to the M.I.5 office and made his report, disclosing some more of the information that he had received from Sabine on his first visit, and adding that he felt almost certain now that Nichoulic had been her contact at the Moldavian Embassy.

'You are doing very well,' said Colonel 'Himmler' briskly. 'Stick to it. Try to get us confirmation about Nichoulic; so that we can ask the F.O. to require his removal. I have a lot to do. You must excuse me now. I'll be seeing you.'

As Gregory was on afternoon duty in the War Room, he went straight down to the Tower, and he spent the best part of two hours with Sabine. He told her that in order to prolong the interrogation it was necessary to break new ground, and suggested that although she had refused to tell him about her visits to Berchtesgaden when they were in Budapest, she should do so now.

At first she showed reluctance, but Gregory told her that her only chance of freedom lay in providing him with material for feeding M.I.5; so that no arrangements to bring her to trial would be made for at least another week and that, as it would be checked up, should she tell a lot of lies the interrogation would be called off and her trial brought forward. He added that, since she was convinced that Hitler would win the war, nothing she could say about him and his entourage was really going to cut very much ice.

Persuaded by these arguments she gave him some most intriguing data about Hitler's private life and those of the people round him. By twelve o'clock they were through, so Gregory was in time to catch Colonel 'Himmler' in St. James's Street before he went out to lunch.

He reported that Sabine had now definitely admitted Nichoulic to be her contact, upon which the Colonel beamed through his bifocals and said, 'Well done, you've been a great help to us. Now I can tell the Provost Marshal’s people to go ahead and arrange about her trial. You'll be wanted as a witness, of course.'

'I wonder if it wouldn't be worth while to postpone her trial for a bit,' Gregory suggested tentatively. 'It is nothing to do with me, but this morning I got her talking about the top Nazis. As Ribbentrop's mistress she knew them all personally, you know. I found the low-down she was giving me fascinating, and I'm sure I could get a lot more out of her. Still, perhaps that sort of thing isn't of much value?'

It was a critical moment. If his proposal were rejected he would have to fall back on Sabine's taking more of the temperature raising pills he had given her as a means of postponing her trial and, far worse, he might find it difficult to pay more than another one or two visits to her on the excuse of tying up loose ends. However, he felt on fairly safe ground and almost at once the Colonel gave the sort of answer he had expected.

'That kind of material is of no value to me, but it would be of great interest to the branch of the firm that operates abroad. I'll have a word with them and one of their people will get in touch with you at the Cabinet Offices.'

Greatly relieved, Gregory walked across the Park to lunch in the basement mess at the end of the corridor in which the War Room lay, then went on duty. That evening one of the Royal Marine orderlies came in to say that there was an officer outside who wished to see him. Out in the corridor he found a small grey-haired Major who introduced himself and said in a naturally low voice, 'I've come to talk to you about the prisoner in the Tower.'

As there was no waiting room Gregory took him down a side passage and into one of the emergency bedrooms always kept in readiness for members of the War Cabinet it happened to be Mr. Attlee's. It was furnished simply with an iron bed, washstand, small table for use as a desk, scrambler telephone and two hard chairs. They sat on the bed talking for a few minutes then the Major moved to the table and took notes of Sabine's disclosures. When they had finished, he said:

'This stuff may come in very handy some time or other. Please get from her all you can; particularly about any of the top Generals she happens to know, but even the names and peculiarities of Hitler's servants might prove useful. The Chief of my branch is rather against people coming to our office; so I'll come to see you here again, if you don't mind. What times suit you best?'

'My duty hours vary,'. Gregory replied. 'But I am supplying her with drink, as I find that she is much more forthcoming when she has had a few; and to take the best advantage of that I mean to arrange my shifts for some days now so that I can see her after dinner in the evening. That means I'll be here all day, most days; but it would be best if you ring me up just to make certain I am here.'

'All right. I'll do that. There is no point in my coming to see you every day. I'll give you a ring on Monday, and come in to collect all the dope you have managed to get by then.'

After dinner that night Gregory went to see Sir Pellinore. The meeting was not a happy one. Gregory reported the progress he had made to date, then flatly refused the Baronet's pleas that he should give up his plan. Seeing that nothing would move him, Sir Pellinore, being a man of his word, divulged, albeit with great reluctance and misgiving, the 'Most Secret' information that he had secured for him.

On Saturday afternoon good news came through from the Western Desert. For the past week the Eighth Army and the Afrika Corps had been engaged in a tremendous slogging match at El Alamein. Many tanks had been destroyed on both sides and the British had taken a considerable number of prisoners; but so far General Montgomery had failed to dislodge Rommel from his main positions. Now it was reported that another all-out attack had been launched that morning and definite breaches had been made in the German defences.

At six o'clock Gregory went down to the Tower and spent an hour with Sabine, questioning her about Hitler's principal Military advisers, their habits, vices and personal backgrounds. At seven Mrs. Sutton brought in her evening meal; so he left her. Out in the hall he said to the wardress: her a late visit. How is the supply of port going?'

The wardress' went to the cupboard and showed him that there was one bottle left. He said with a smile, 'I could do with a drink, although it is hardly the hour for port. Let's open it and have one. I'll bring some more down tomorrow. You'll join me, won't you?'

Nothing loath, she fetched a corkscrew and glasses. They had two goes apiece; then he went out into the chill raw misty night, and took the Underground down to Gloucester Road.

After Rudd had served him with a meal he spent a worrying half-hour, obsessed with the fear that Kasdar might have got cold feet and not turn up after all. He had by now thoroughly examined every possibility for getting Sabine out of the Tower and made up his mind how he meant to attempt it; but if the Moldavian let him down his own plan would have been made for nothing.

His fears proved groundless. Soon after nine, with a sigh of thankfulness, he heard the heavy footfalls outside on the landing and Rudd showed in the big black moustached Colonel.

The Moldavian was in an excellent humour and, as soon as Gregory had mixed him a drink, opened up their business. One of the tugs was at sea and the other two at Newcastle, so' he had gone up there to see their Captains; and he had been lucky. The father of one of them had recently died and he had inherited a very pleasant property in Moldavia, so he was anxious to get home to enjoy it. He had sounded his crew and found that for the chance of getting back to their own country all but one of them were also willing to accept some risk of being caught by the British while making a break across the North Sea. His tug with its tow of barges should be off Harwich, on the way down to London, on November the 2nd, and he could fake engine trouble which would enable him to lie up at Burnham on Crouch for, anyhow, two or three days.

Kasdar had then taken the tug Captain down to Burnham and they had hired a car to explore the neighbourhood. A lonely inlet a few miles away, which could easily be identified, had been settled upon as the point of embarkation. The wording of an innocent sounding telegram had been agreed, which Kasdar was to send to the Captain at Burnham on the afternoon preceding the escape. That night he would have his tug lying off the inlet, and should he be challenged by naval craft he would say that, having taken her out for a trial that evening, she had broken down again. From two o'clock in the morning he would have a boat inshore ready to pick up his passenger.

Gregory was delighted. He felt that had he handled the job himself he could not have done it more efficiently; but now he was faced with the awful moment when he must make payment in advance or Kasdar would call the whole thing off.'

Already the Colonel was saying eagerly, 'And now, my friend, don't keep roe in suspense. When is D-Day and where is this great seaborne expedition to make its landing?'

On the previous night Gregory had secured both those major secrets; and numerous others, from Sir Pellinore, but he did not mean to pass on much of his material yet. He shook his head. 'Only the very top boys and the Joint Planning Staff know that as yet, and they are being as tight as clams. But in the meantime…'

'Come!' Kasdar broke in angrily. 'I will not be trifled with. Either you…'

In turn, Gregory cut him short. 'Don't be so damned impatient! I am working on three separate people, all of whom could tell us what we want to know; but I dare not ask any of them outright. You have got to give me another day or two to get the high spots. In the meantime here is something pretty good. The codeword for the operation is Torch, the naval commander of the expedition is Admiral Sir Bertram Ramsey the chap who organized the evacuation from Dunkirk and the convoys sail tonight.'

'Tonight!' Kasdar came swiftly to his feet. 'That is certainly something worth knowing. But, if so, D-Day cannot be far off. Only three or four days, perhaps.'

'Longer, I think. Don't count on this. It is only an idea I got from something I overheard, and I may be wrong. But I gained the impression that this is a second and much more powerful expedition to take Dakar. If so, D-Day is still ten days off, at least.'

The Moldavian swallowed the rest of his drink, and said hurriedly, 'I must go and get this in code for the other side. But it is not enough, you know, to induce me to handle the Sabine business. I want the date and place before I will do that. When is the earliest you can hope to get them.'

'I may do so any time. As soon as I have anything worthwhile I'll telephone you to fix another meeting.'

When Kasdar had gone, Gregory found that he was sweating. He strove to reassure himself by reasoning that the codeword Torch had now served its purpose. For months past, in an ever-increasing circle, more and more people in the Ministries and Service formations had had to be appraised of its meaning, so that thousands of officers, civil servants, typists and clerks, Captains of merchant ships, dock and railway officials, all now knew it to apply to the great offensive operation planned by the Allies for 1942; and therefore from some few of those thousands it must have already leaked to Eire and so through to the Germans. He knew too that the slowest vessels had started as early as October the 22nd and that the bulk of the troops had sailed on the 26th. It was only the last flotillas of the great armada that were to sail that night; so he was able to argue that the expedition's departure could not have been concealed from men like Kasdar for more than another twelve hours. In the morning Glasgow and Liverpool would wake to learn that Clydeside and Merseyside had overnight become empty of shipping. Neutrals resident in those cities would unquestionably telephone that news to their Embassies in London.

Yet he hardly slept from worry and a succession of nightmares about appalling catastrophes which just might result from his personal action. The worst was the convoys being torpedoed; although once they had sailed they stood that risk anyhow, and if they had been going to Dakar they would have passed hundreds of miles outside the Straits of Gibraltar, which was the worst danger spot; so the red herring he had thrown out might help to minimize the risk they ran.

On Sunday morning there was again good news from El Alamein. A British thrust to the north had cut off a large pocket of Germans on the coast; but knowing that the Torch convoys had sailed everybody in the War Cabinet Offices was now anxious and restless.

Instead of supping with Sir Pellinore, at nine o'clock that night Gregory arrived at the Tower. The redheaded Mrs. Wright was on duty and, taking three bottles of port from his attaché case, he suggested that she might like to have a drink with him before he went in to start his interrogation. Like her colleague, she displayed no reluctance, and while they were having it she remarked:

'You won't have long with her tonight, sir, unless you've got the countersign. The gates are shut at ten, and no one's allowed in or out after that, unless they have.'

Having thanked her for the information, he went across to the Governor's office, explained that he wished to spend at least an hour with the prisoner, and was given the countersign for the night, which would allow him to pass out of the wicket gate up till twelve o'clock. But he was warned that unless he was out by that hour he would be locked in till morning.

On returning to St. Thomas's Tower he found that Mrs. Sutton had just come in from an evening off. It was about twenty to ten and she asked him if he had ever seen the Ceremony of the Keys. As he had not, and it was due to take place in only a little over ten minutes' time down in Water Lane, just below the front door, she suggested that he should wait to see it before going in to the prisoner.

They had another drink all round, then went out on to the stone gallery above the pit in which lay Traitors' Gate. At 9.53 the Chief Warder, an ancient lantern in hand, joined the Escort of Troops awaiting him in the archway under the Bloody Tower, upon which Gregory and the two wardresses1 were looking down. Carrying the Keys, the Chief Warder proceeded in turn to the West Gate, the Middle and the Byward Towers. At each, as he locked the gates, the escort presented arms. The party then returned to the archway of the Bloody Tower where it was halted by the sentry with the challenge, 'Who goes there?' The Chief Warder replied, 'The Keys.' The sentry demanded, 'Whose Keys?' The Chief Warder replied, 'King George's Keys.' Upon which the sentry cried, 'Advance King George's Keys. All's well!' And so concluded the ceremony.

'Really romantic, isn't it?' commented Mrs. Wright. 'And just to think it's been done the same night after night for nearly seven hundred years.'

Gregory spent his hour with Sabine, extracting more information from her about Hitler's habits and those of his favourites. He was out of the Tower by eleven twenty and spent a somewhat better night owing to the comforting thought that the build-up for Sabine's escape was proceeding well.

Next morning, at the Cabinet Offices, the little grey-haired

Major telephoned, then came to see him about midday; and he was able to assuage his troubled conscience a little with the thought that he was, at least, the means of providing a mass of high level intelligence data which it would otherwise have been extremely difficult to obtain.

But Kasdar again loomed dark and sinister in his thoughts. He dared not hold out too long on the Moldavian, otherwise all that he had yet done would go for nothing. Steeling himself to it he rang up from a callbox outside on Clive Steps, and asked the Colonel to come down to Gloucester Road that night at eight o'clock.

Kasdar was punctual to the minute. Striving to make his voice sound natural, Gregory said to him, 'I've got it for you, as I promised. D-Day is Monday, November the 9th.',

'Kolossal cried the Moldavian, almost quivering with excitement. 'Now we have really got somewhere. And the objective?'

Gregory shook his head. 'I am still stymied on that.'

'But the one loses nineteenths of its value without the other.'

'I know. But I can't help it. I'll get it for you within the next twenty-four hours. And listen! I've got for you the British Order of Battle.'

'You have!'

'Yes,' Gregory produced from his pocket a list of the Divisions and Brigade Groups that were taking part in the operation. He had compiled it without aid, simply by using his knowledge obtained in the War Room of the formations which had been moved to ports. He had not dared to fake it, as he felt sure that any Military Attaché would already have a shrewd idea of the best trained, fully equipped formations available, and would probably have had his civilian informants identify by their arm flashes those which during the past fortnight had moved up to the North.

After a glance down the list, Kasdar exclaimed, 'This is good! You have done well, my friend! But not well enough. The objective is all important. When can you let me have it?'

'Tomorrow, I hope. Anyhow by Wednesday. And that is the day for which I have planned Sabine's escape. I mean that night. May I count on you to send a telegram giving the word to your tug Captain on the afternoon of Wednesday the 4th?'

'Providing that you have by then given me the objective.'

T understand that; but we cannot afford to postpone our preparations. You are in a position to refuse your aid at any moment, should I fail you. But the preparations must be made. On Wednesday, after lunch, at half past two, I wish you to be at the blitzed entrance to St. Thomas's Hospital, on the south side of Westminster Bridge. I will be waiting for you there. By then, if I haven't given it you before, I'll be able to tell you the objective. But, Wednesday we must definitely meet in order to reconnoitre the approach by water to the Tower, and lower down the river; so that you can decide where you will have your car waiting to pick Sabine up that night.'

After a moment's hesitation, Kasdar agreed. 'All right then. Wednesday, two thirty, outside the hospital, on the far side of the bridge.'

Having got rid of the Moldavian, Gregory went along by Underground to the Tower, arriving there about half past nine. He went straight to the Governor's Office to get the countersign, then again gave the two wardresses a glass of port and watched the Ceremony of the Keys with them. Soon after ten he was locked in with Sabine.

He talked to her until a quarter to twelve; then Mrs. Sutton came to the door to warn him that it was time for him to leave. He said he must have another five minutes, and when he came out he was cursing audibly at having had to terminate prematurely a most promising session of his interrogation. It was only by running for it through the dark rain misted night that he managed to get to the wicket gate in time to save himself from being locked in.

First thing on Tuesday morning, having decided that it would be as well to let Colonel 'Himmler' know how the interrogation was going, he called at the M.I.5 office. That bustling and cheerful officer listened to his report with interest, then said:

'It will take a few days to arrange for her trial, but I see no reason now why it shouldn't be started next week.'

Gregory nodded. 'After another two long late sessions I reckon I'll have sucked her dry; so I should be able to make my final report to your little Major friend on Thursday. In any case I'll be through well before the weekend.'

Having thus ensured against any sudden interference with his plans by M.I.5 during the next forty-eight hours, he walked across the Park to his office. There he learned that the El Alamein battle was still raging furiously. The Germans claimed that Rommel was winning the tank battle but the signals from General Alexander contradicted that, and in the southern sector our infantry had made an important advance, taking many prisoners.

Everyone realized that a great deal hung on the outcome of the battle, but both victories and defeats in the Western Desert were no new thing; so, from the Chiefs Of Staff down to the most junior Major, the whole personnel of the Fortress Basement had their thoughts on the Atlantic.

As super security the position of the Convoys was not even marked up on the map in the War Room; it was known only that they had taken a wide sweep out into the ocean so as to be outside the range of the Fockewulf aircraft that the Germans used to spot for their U-boat packs. But it was also known that a concentration of no less than forty U-boats was lying off the Canary Islands; and the Convoys had to go through the Straits of Gibraltar. Still worse, for some reason that even the sailors seemed unable to explain, they would have to spend no less than forty-eight hours milling round outside the Straits while they were regrouped into new formations for the assault. From the present position of the U-boats it looked as if the Dakar cover story had got through; but when those hundreds of ships had to become more or less stationary, circling round one another for two days and nights at no great distance from the Straits, it seemed almost impossible for them to remain undiscovered, and that the U-boats would not come racing north to deal death and destruction among them.

There was, too, another cause for acute anxiety. The original British plan had been to throw everything into the Mediterranean, for three landings at Oran, Algiers and Philippeville, but the Americans had baulked at the idea, fearing that if the Germans came down through Spain the whole expedition might be cut off and bottled up in North Africa.

To ensure keeping open a supply line to it they had pressed for the major landing to be made at Casablanca, on the Atlantic coast, and only a minor one at Oran. The British had argued stubbornly for landings at Algiers and Philippeville, because the prime object of the operation was to get into Tunisia as rapidly as possible and join up with the Eighth Army advancing from the East; and Philippeville was five hundred miles nearer to the Tunisian border than Oran. But the best that could be got was a reluctant consent by the Americans to a landing at Algiers, and they also continued to insist on one at Casablanca.

The decision to abandon the Philippeville landing was to prove an error of the first magnitude, as it resulted in the Germans being able to get strong forces into Tunisia before the Allies could do so, and a most costly campaign of many months' duration before the enemy were finally thrown out. But the matter which was causing such anxiety at the moment was the Casablanca landing. Being on the Atlantic coast the seas on its beaches were much rougher. On average there was only one really calm day per month, and on four out of every five the giant rollers were so high that they would make it impossible for the assault craft of the separate expedition, which was on its way over direct from the United States, to be beached without being battered to pieces.

Down in the Fortress Basement there was now nothing that anyone could do but await results, and there were still five days to go. The strain was almost unbearable, and like his colleagues Gregory could not help being affected by it; so he was glad when his tour of duty was up and he could concentrate solely on his own intensely harrowing problems.

That night he again reached the Tower at nine thirty, secured the countersign from the Governor's Office, stood the two wardresses a glass of port, and went in to see Sabine. She had frequently begged him to tell her how he was progressing with his plans for her escape, but he had refused to do so from fear that as the time drew near she might arouse the suspicions of the wardresses by showing signs of excitement. He therefore followed what had become his established routine of questioning her about leading Nazi personalities.

At ten to twelve Mrs. Wright unlocked the door to tell him that his time was up. As on the previous night he said impatiently that he must have a few more minutes. At five to twelve she came in again; so muttering angrily he began to get his papers together, but he appeared to have difficulty with the lock of his attaché case and it was close on midnight when he hurried out.

He ran the last hundred yards to the wicket entrance but, as he had planned, by the time he reached it the gate was closed. He saw the officer of the guard, but the regulations were positive. No exception could be made for him and he must remain within the precincts of the Tower for the night.

Retracing his steps to St. Thomas's Tower he rang the front door bell and with a crestfallen expression explained to Mrs. Wright what had happened. Then he put a brighter face on the matter and said philosophically:

'Anyhow, it will enable me to resume my interrogation for a while; and I can sleep on the sofa in the room that the prisoner occupies in the daytime.'

Sabine had been taken up to her bedroom, but she had not yet undressed and was brought down again. For about three quarters of an hour he put further questions to her, then he rang for Mrs. Wright. After Sabine had been taken away, the yawning wardress helped him to make up a shakedown with cushions, newspapers, a rug and his greatcoat on top of them; but when she had left him he got up.

Going to one of the mullion windows that had not been boarded over, he drew aside a corner of the curtain and peered out through its small diamond panes, hoping to find out how frequently the sentries left their boxes to walk their beats. The blackout, which so often in the war had proved his best friend, would, he knew, once again do so in his attempt to get Sabine away; but now it defeated him. Not a glimmer of light broke the sombre pattern of black outside, and gusty rain further reduced visibility. With difficulty he made out the line of the embankment, but he could only guess at the positions of the cannon along it, and nearer in there seemed little chance of picking up from above a moving figure against the dense blackness of the foreground.

After straining his eyes for twenty minutes he gave it up, and praying that he would be favoured the following night with similar conditions, made the best he could of his far from comfortable couch.

In the morning, knowing that the Tower gates were opened at six o'clock he rose early, and by seven was back at Gloucester Road. This was November the 4th, his D-Day, and he had much to do on it; so he had arranged to take it as his weekly clear twenty-four hours off from the War Room.

Having bathed and had his breakfast in a dressing gown, he rang up several boat yards along the Thames above London, enquiring if they had a motor launch for hire. At this time of the year most boats were laid up for the winter, but his fourth call was to a firm at Kew, which had one available and said that it could be ready for him by midday. Then he snatched the best part of two hours in bed.

On getting up he dressed in civilian clothes, hunted out a fishing rod that he had not used for years, threw a few things into an old suitcase, then, taking Rudd with him, took a taxi down to Kew. The manager of the yard expressed surprise that anyone should want to hire a launch for a week in November; but Gregory told him, with some truth, that he was a chair borne airman whose lot it was to work month in, month out, in a stuffy basement; so even if it rained cats and dogs it would not spoil for him the joy of a week's fishing.

The man warned him that the daily allocation of petrol he was allowed to give under rationing was small, so it would not take him very far; but Gregory took delivery there and then of his seven days' quota, which was ample for his purpose. Having paid the deposit they went aboard; Rudd, who had been brought only to jump ashore with the painter when the time came to tie up, was in the bow and Gregory at the wheel.

During the run down river he put the launch through her paces to make sure that her engine was not likely to break down, and soon after two o'clock they tied up at the landing stage fifty yards below the County Hall. By this short expedition Gregory had not compromised his faithful henchman, and he had no intention of doing so. He now told him to walk through to Waterloo Station and take the Underground home, then he himself walked the short distance to the south end of Westminster Bridge, where he took up a position near the blitzed entrance to St. Thomas's Hospital.

He had not long to wait before Kasdar arrived in a taxi. When the Moldavian had paid off the cab he gave Gregory a sullen stare and asked, 'Did you know about the diplomatic bags?'

'What about them?' Gregory replied innocently.

'Why, that they had been stopped. We were notified of it only this morning. The Foreign Office informed us with regret that His Majesty's Government had instructed the G.P.O. to hold all bags delivered after midnight on Tuesday, and that none will be forwarded until further notice. Never before has such a step been taken. It is an outrage against International convention.'

'Really!' Gregory raised his eyebrows. 'I've no contact with the Foreign Office, and it is news to me.'

'But do you realize what this means? My message giving the date of D-Day and the Order of Battle are held up. They will not now be passed on to Berlin until after the expedition has reached its destination. I thought perhaps…'

'What! That I had double-crossed you. Don't be a fool; I have too much at stake.' As Gregory spoke he was feeling immense relief. He considered the Foreign Office to be reprehensibly soft in its treatment of neutrals and had feared that grounds might be put forward for postponing the measure at the last moment. Now he knew that his fears had been groundless and his timing all right; so he was over that hurdle.

With a shrug of his broad shoulders, the Colonel said more affably, 'Fortunately all is not yet lost. If you succeed in rescuing Sabine, she will act as our courier.'

Gregory heard the suggestion with grim satisfaction. That was just what he had been planning for all along. He need now no longer fear that, when Kasdar had got all the information he could out of him, he would double-cross him and fail to keep his side of the bargain. For his own ends now, he had to get Sabine out of the country. But in her case too there was this nightmare problem of exact timing.

'The objective?' Kasdar shot at him suddenly. 'I take it you have now found out about that?'

'Yes, and I will give it you within the next quarter of an hour. This is no place to talk about it. Come along with me.'

Crossing the road they walked almost in silence through York Street and down to the landing stage where the launch was tied up. Going aboard they entered her tiny cabin, then Gregory produced a piece of paper from his pocket. On it was a rough sketch map of the western half of the Mediterranean with arrows to indicate landing places. Handing it over, he said, 'There you are.'

After one glance the Moldavian exclaimed, 'Then it is not Dakar! That is surprising. We have had it from several sources that it was.'

'I thought so too,' Gregory agreed. 'But you will remember I warned you that it was only an idea of mine; and I was wrong. Now I've done my part it is up to you to do yours. Let's go ashore and send that telegram.'

Kasdar raised no objection so they walked the short distance to Waterloo Station and from the Post Office there despatched the agreed message to the tugboat Captain at Burnham. As they walked back to the landing stage, the Moldavian said in a low voice:

'It is just as well that this embargo on the diplomatic bags was not put on earlier. I was, anyhow, able to get through to the other side news of our intentions, and receive back the special recognition marks for our tug to display as soon as she is clear of British controlled waters. Otherwise she might have had the ill luck to be sunk by the Luftwaffe or a German E-boat.'

When they were back' in the launch Kasdar untied the painter and Gregory nosed her out. A quarter of an hour later, moving at a slow speed, they came opposite the Tower of London. Then Gregory said:

'You see the big block nearly in the centre of the Outer Wall. That is St. Thomas's Tower and Sabine is in it. However dark it is tonight you will still be able to identify it because the two turrets at its extremities will stand out against the skyline. I want you to bring this launch in under the embankment as nearly as possible halfway between the two turrets at a quarter to eleven. If Sabine and I are not on the embankment ready to come off at once, take the launch to the other side of the river' and tie up there; then come over again at a quarter to twelve. If we are not there repeat the process at a quarter to one and at a quarter to two. If we have still not appeared, you will know then that I have failed, and the job is off. Is that clear?'

'Perfectly. But what of the tide?'

'I have checked that. At low there are a few yards of imported sand beach on which children play in the day time. At high you would be able to get her right up to the river wall. Tonight will be fairly favourable. You should be able to get right in at ten forty-five, but it will already be on the ebb. Later we would have to drop in the shallows and wade out to you. In case we have to do that there is a suitcase in the cabin with dry slacks, socks and shoes in it for Sabine and myself.'

'You intend, then, to come too?'

Gregory shrugged. 'What the hell else can I do? There will be no disguising the fact that it was I who arranged her escape. I have got to disappear. If I remained in this country the police would get me within a week: And the charge would be treason.

No! I'll have burnt my boats; so the only thing I can do is go over lock, stock and barrel to the Nazis.'

'Don't look so despondent about it.' Kasdar clapped him on the shoulder. 'Personally, I envy you your luck in getting out of this benighted country. And, after all, there is the little Sabine. She will owe you much. Perhaps she will console you in your exile instead of going back to Ribbentrop.'

'I will confess,' Gregory admitted with a half smile, 'that possibility had not altogether escaped me.'

Meanwhile the launch had passed under Tower Bridge. For another two miles Gregory kept her headed downstream, then he brought her in close to the north bank, and said, 'I thought we might find a suitable place to land somewhere along here on the Poplar waterfront.'

Between the entrance to the Limehouse Cut Canal’ and the West India Docks there were stairs every hundred yards or so. Tying the launch up at one of them, they went ashore. At the near end of a street called Ropemaker's Fields they found a suitable place to park a car. So it was decided that early that evening Kasdar should drive down there with his chauffeur. Then, having made certain that the man knew how to find the spot again, the chauffeur should bring the car down himself to arrive a little before eleven o'clock and wait there with it, if need be until a quarter past two.

This settled, they returned to the launch, and headed back up river. On the return journey Gregory made his companion take the wheel and controls, so that he should get some practice in handling her. After tying up again at the stairs below County Hall, they ran over their plan again to make certain that they fully understood one another; then they clambered ashore, walked to the nearest street corner, shook hands and separated, Gregory making for the Waterloo Underground. Soon after five he was back at Gloucester Road, and a quarter of an hour later in bed sound asleep.

Rudd roused him at half past seven, and reported that soon after six the 'foreign gentleman' had rung up and left a message. It was that 'the sailor had telephoned to acknowledge receipt of the telegram'. This news heartened Gregory considerably, and he felt that he was lucky in having anyone so efficient as Kasdar to work with him. That the Moldavian might fail him that night he now had little fear; and as the creek near Burnham, off which the tug was to lie, was not much over forty miles from Poplar, he reckoned that, if his own part of the job went without a hitch, Sabine should be aboard her soon after midnight.

He had a bath and got into uniform; then, as he had had no lunch, he ate a very hearty dinner. After it, he packed into the bottom of a suitcase a short electrically driven saw with a blade of tungsten steel and a battery he had attached to it by a yard of flex, some spare blades, a mallet muffled at one end with a cloth pad, a dozen ten inch steel spikes, and two belts, with quick release buckles, attached to one another by fifteen feet of thin wire cored rope. Over these he laid a rug, a dressing gown, and pyjamas, packing among them three more bottles of port.

When he had put on his greatcoat he told Rudd that he was going on a dangerous expedition and did not expect to be back for some time. Rudd pleaded to be taken with him, but he said that was not possible, and with his old friend's 'Well! All the luck, sir; and a safe return' ringing in his ears, he went out into the blackout to play the last desperate hazard.

The Final Hazard

Chapter 25

It was again dark and misting with rain. At Gloucester Road station an old newsvendor was shouting, 'Speshul Edition! Speshul Edition!' Gregory joined the little crowd eagerly reaching out for the man's papers, and bought one. It had a banner headline great desert victory.

A special communique had been received in London that evening from General Sir Harold Alexander. After twelve days and nights of desperate fighting, Rommel's army had broken and was now in full retreat. His disordered columns were being relentlessly pursued by Montgomery's troops, and ceaselessly strafed by Coningham's Desert Air Force. Nine thousand prisoners had been taken, two hundred and sixty tanks and two hundred and seventy guns captured or destroyed. General von Stumme was among the dead and General von Thoma among the prisoners. This was no limited success but a victory of the first magnitude, which would make the words 'El Alamein' and 'Eighth Army live in history.

To Gregory this splendid news meant even more than it could have to the people with whom he was sitting in the cold gloomy underground train, for he knew that this was only the first phase of the great overall plan. Would the second prove equally successful? By now the armada must be off the Straits of Gibraltar. For the next two days they would be carrying out their perilous regrouping, then on Friday night, with all lights out, they would be steaming in an endless column at full speed through the narrows. By Saturday afternoon they would be within range of General Kesselring's powerful Air Force based on Sicily; so might be subjected to ferocious aerial bombardment. Would they, in the dawn on Sunday morning the 8th and the true D-Day succeed in getting ashore, or would they instead have become victims of terrible disaster?

When he came out of Mark Lane Station he found the night even more murky; for down there by the river, as was often the case in November, the atmosphere was laden with fog. Thanking his gods that conditions were so ideal for his purpose, and flashing his torch now and then, he made his way across Tower Hill to the gateway of the Fortress.

When he had signed himself in, he went to the Governor's Office. There, he stated his intention of remaining in the Tower for the night, on the grounds that having had to do so the previous night had enabled him to prolong his interrogation and extract valuable information from the prisoner, owing to the fact that she had become tired out and been no longer able to stand up to the pressure he put upon her. No objection was raised and at a quarter to ten Mrs. Sutton let him in to St. Thomas's Tower.

She had heard the news of the desert victory, and was full of it. After they had discussed it for a few minutes, he told her that he meant to stay the night, and had brought a few things to make himself more comfortable. Unlocking his suitcase, he gave her a glimpse of his pyjamas and dressing gown; then he asked, 'How is the port situation?'

'We're nearly out, sir,' she replied in her deep voice. 'She's got the last bottle in there now; and judging by what she usually drinks it must be nearly empty.'

Gregory had expected that, as he had carefully budgeted for it. Unpacking the three bottles he had brought in the suitcase and standing them on the hall table, he said, 'It's just as well I brought a new supply then. Call Mrs. Wright and we'll have our evening ration before I go in to her.'

The red headed wardress joined them at Mrs. Sutton's call, with three glasses and a corkscrew. Gregory took the corkscrew from her, tore the capsule off one of the bottles, pulled the cork and poured out the wine. As they took up the glasses he said cheerfully:

'We'll have a double ration tonight to celebrate the victory. First one to the Eighth Army and the final defeat of Rommel. Straight down the hatch; no heel taps. Here we go!'

They all raised their glasses. He had his to his lips and tilted back his head. But suddenly he set it down again untasted, explaining his act by whipping out his handkerchief and sneezing into it. The two women had already emptied their glasses.

For a moment they both stood quite still. Then their eyes began to bulge. Mrs. Wright dropped her glass, staggered and clutched at the table. Mrs. Sutton was made of sterner stuff. Her eyes glaring accusation, she let out a strangled gasp, turned, and lurched towards the telephone.

In an instant Gregory was round the table. Grasping her by the shoulders he swung her about and pushed her down into a chair. Mrs. Wright groaned and fell to the floor. Mrs. Sutton heaved herself up, reeled sideways and collapsed beside her. Both of them moved their limbs feebly for a few moments then lapsed into unconsciousness. Gregory had doctored the bottle with knockout drops, recorked it and replaced the capsule. The Mickey Finn he had given them had done its work perfectly.

Taking Mrs. Sutton's keys he unlocked Sabine's door and called to her. 'This is it! I've dealt with the two good women who have been looking after you. Come out and give me a hand with them.'

'Oh, Gregory!' she cried. 'Can it really be true?' Then, her dark eyes bright with excitement, she ran out to him.

Between them they carried the two stalwart wardresses into their bedroom and laid them on their beds. When they had done so she said:

'I'll never forget what you're doing for me! Never! Never! But what about yourself? These two women must know it was you who knocked them out. You won't possibly be able to cover up the fact that it was you who enabled me to escape. Oh, my dear! My dear! What will become of you?'

He made a rather hopeless gesture. 'I'm done for anyhow as Wing Commander Gregory Sallust. That is not too high a price to pay, though, for your having saved me from Grauber. I learned that it was quite on the cards they would shoot you, and I couldn't possibly let that happen. Colonel Kasdar is to pick you up outside, and it is hoped to ship you across to the Continent tonight. I had thought of coming with you. But I've changed my mind. Damn it all, I am an Englishman! I'd be utterly miserable living over there like a ticket of leave man by permission of the Nazis because I'd saved you. Somehow I'll manage to disappear. Fortunately I've got plenty of money. I think I'll try to get to Ireland and start a little war of my own. The U-boats put. in at places on the southwest coast from time to time. I don't doubt I could ferret out one of the secret landing places where their crews come ashore at night. To ambush some of the murdering swine who drown men, women and children indiscriminately would give me quite a lot of satisfaction.'

Breaking off, he handed her the key to her bedroom, and said in a brisker voice: 'But we mustn't waste time talking. Go up and change into those black clothes I brought you. See that there is nothing light about you that will show. You'll need both hands to climb, so don't encumber yourself with a handbag. Put your lipstick and toothbrush in the pockets of your coat. Get back here as quickly as you can.'

When she had left him he tore a sheet into strips and secured the two wardresses' hands and feet, then tied them to their beds. He knew that they would be out for about two hours but, in order to postpone discovery of the escape as long as possible, he took their two pillowcases, ripped a hole in the bottom of each, then pulled them over their heads; so that, while there was no danger of their suffocating, when they did come round their shouts would be muffled and it would be impossible for them to be heard outside the building.

Closing the door of their room behind him he walked down the corridor back to the hall. As he entered it his heart missed a beat. He halted in his tracks. A cold perspiration broke out on his forehead. Sabine lay there on the floor. She was as limp and motionless as if she were dead.

Almost at the same instant as his glance fell upon her he realized what must have happened. In passing through the hall she had noticed his untouched glass of port still standing on the table. Prompted, no doubt, by the thought that a drink would help key her up to face the uncertainties of the next half hour, and in her excitement failing to associate the port with the two unconscious wardresses, she had, on an impulse, tossed the drink down. She had knocked herself out with a Mickey Finn.

Up till now everything had gone like clockwork, but her act had stopped the clock dead. And everything hung on timing. The die had been cast. There could be no going back. Gregory knew that if he could not get her out that night, she would have to take her medicine even if it came to being shot. As for himself, the thought of the situation in which he had landed himself to no purpose made him seethe with rage. It struck him that this was just the sort of unforeseeable happening that so often ruined the plans of murderers.

As he stood staring at her twisted body, he fought to make his brain work calmly. Should he leave her there and quit, or was it still possible to retrieve the situation? He had counted on her to act as his lookout. He had meant her to climb an eighteen foot wall and wriggle across sixty feet of open ground on her tummy. To carry her the whole way would add enormously to the risk of their being seen, and he doubted his physical ability to do it. Yet so much hung upon his rescuing her. And finding himself up against some unforeseen difficulty had never yet made him throw his hand in.

With sudden resolution he ran forward, snatched up the key that had fallen from her hand, grabbed her wrist and pulled her arm round his neck. Then, with a fireman's lift, he carried her up the short flight of stairs to her room.

Having got her into it and on the bed, he ripped off her outer clothes, hunted round till he found the black slacks and turtle necked sweater, and thrust her flopping limbs into them. Deciding that cold or no cold she would have to go without a coat because its flapping skirts might get in his way, he carried her down to the front door. Leaving her there, he went back for his suitcase. When he had fetched it, he opened the door quietly and looked out.

From where he stood he could make out the silhouette of the Bloody Tower opposite, and the top of the Inner Wall running west from it, but down below was a grey foggy darkness that would have hidden anyone standing there. He listened for a long moment. Hearing no sound of footfalls, he left the door on the latch and went out on to the stonewalled balcony. Walking at a normal pace along it, he went down the steps at its end into Water Lane. After having strained his eyes, peering first one v/ay then the other into the murk, he coughed loudly to draw attention to himself. No challenge came. The place was deserted.

Turning, he ran back up the steps. His rubber soled shoes made his quick movement almost soundless. Dragging Sabine and lifting his suitcase out on to the gallery he shut the door firmly. Again he got her into a fireman's lift across his shoulders, picked up the suitcase with his free hand, and at a shambling run carried them down into the roadway.

For all Sabine's slim figure, her dead weight was considerable. By the time he got her to the railing in front of the steps leading down to Traitors' Gate, he was panting like a grampus, and sweating profusely. Unceremoniously he bundled her over on to the top step, then followed with the suitcase. The pit was a canyon of utter blackness and, as he staggered down the steps with her limbs dangling about him, he knew that he was now out of danger for the moment.

At an easier pace he crossed the stone floor of the old entrance to the moat and so pitch dark was it that he walked right into the great gate before he saw it. Lowering Sabine he undid his suitcase then glanced at the luminous dial of his wristwatch. It was twenty past ten. He had lost only ten minutes through having to dress Sabine. If things went well, and his strength did not fail him, he might yet get her on to the embankment by a quarter to eleven.

Not daring to use his torch, he felt for the saw, switched on the battery, and set to work on cutting through one of the iron bars of the gate between its two lower horizontal beams. The bars were square and about an inch thick, but very old and partially rusted through; so, if he had not been afraid of discovery, he could have made short work of them. As it was, every other minute he had to switch off and pause to listen, in case someone passed above and heard the buzzing of the saw. Once he caught the sound of voices, and remained dead still for three minutes by his watch, to ensure that whoever it was had passed well out of earshot.

The two cuts to get out the lower section of the first bar took him sixteen minutes. As he had to cut out two more before there would be an opening large enough to crawl through, he knew already that he had been unduly optimistic in hoping to get Sabine to the launch on its first run in. But his experience with the first bar made his work on the other two considerably quicker.

Grimly, he alternately worked away with his saw and paused to listen. At last the job was done. After wrenching out the third bar he looked at his watch. It was two minutes to eleven. Raising Sabine he pushed her through the two foot square hole he had made. Then he repacked his suitcase, crawled through himself and pulled it after him.

He now had ample time, so he sat with his back against the gate resting for a couple of minutes. Getting to his feet again, he carried Sabine through the tunnel to the far end of the pit in which it terminated. It was somewhat lighter there, as it was not surrounded with high walls, and had only the grim facade of St. Thomas's Tower on its north side; but the shroud of darkness and fog was still sufficient to hide a person down in it, providing he kept still, from anyone looking down from above.

Having fetched his suitcase, Gregory got from it the ten inch steel spikes and the mallet with the padded top. To his relief he found no difficulty in driving the spikes firmly into the crevices between the two foot deep blocks of stone that formed the sidewalls of the pit, and the mallet having been muffled its strokes made little noise. But when he had to stand on the lower spikes to drive in others higher up, it was a precarious business.

As he took his time over it, fourteen minutes elapsed before he reached the top. The stone parapet shelved outward and, leaning his arms on it, he peered about in all directions. There was no sign of movement and he could just make out a few of the nearest old cannons, some sixty feet away.

Descending to the pit, he looked at his watch. It was sixteen minutes past eleven. There was still nearly half an hour to go, and to wait about on the embankment would be to court disaster. For the final stage he reckoned ten minutes should be easily sufficient, so for the next nineteen they must remain where they were, in the pit.

A dank chill pervaded the old moat, making it bitterly cold down there. Gregory got out his flask and took two long swigs of brandy but he did not dare to force any down Sabine's throat. To do so might now have brought her round but made her vomit; and he knew that he stood a better chance with a limp body than one half-conscious, moaning and racked with pain.

The minutes dragged interminably, and now that he had time to think he was plagued with fresh fears. Had he made it absolutely plain to Kasdar that if they were not on the embankment at a quarter to eleven he was to return at a quarter to twelve? Had Kasdar, after not finding them at the rendezvous the first time, been seized with the idea that they must have been caught, that the guards would now be on the alert, and that he might be caught too if he risked bringing the launch in again? As there had been no alarm or shouting out on the embankment during the past hour the launch must have remained undetected on its first run in; but would it be so lucky next time?

At last the gruelling wait was over. Taking the two belts out of the suitcase, Gregory fastened one round Sabine's waist and the other round his own. He had brought them only for the purpose of lowering her over the twelve foot deep embankment to the launch. Now, he thanked his stars he had thought of that, for without them and the rope which joined them it would have been utterly impossible to get her up the ladder of steel spikes.

Suddenly, when he was already half way up it, he was struck by an appalling snag. The rope was only fifteen feet long and the wall eighteen feet high. Before he got to the top he would find himself anchored by her weight and unable to proceed farther. Coming down again, he stared at her still motionless body, frantically racking his wits for a way to overcome this apparently insurmountable obstacle to getting her to the top.

A moment, and he had it. Undoing his own belt he slipped it over his arm, went up again to within three feet of the top, hooked the belt over one of the spikes and, after another cautious look round, climbed out over the edge. By reaching down he was now able to grasp the belt and haul upon it.

Lying on his stomach, he took the strain. She had been heavy enough while he was carrying her, but now she seemed to weigh a ton. As soon as she was off the ground he edged along a couple of feet to get her clear of the spikes; then he strove to haul her up.

The strain on his wrists and arms was agonizing. He could only manage to hoist her a few inches at a time. Sweat poured off him. The thin rope bit into his fingers. Once, when she was two thirds of the way up, it slipped. Like a red-hot iron it seared into the flesh of his hands. He could have screamed from the pain. Clenching his teeth and shutting his eyes, he managed to check the slipping rope and hang on. Another two minutes of almost superhuman effort and he was able to grab the belt round her waist with his right hand. For a few moments he lay there panting. Then in one great heave, he dragged her up beside him.

It had taken longer than he had allowed to get her up out of the pit. There was now not a moment to be lost. One quick look round and, still gasping for breath, he pulled her across his shoulders. Lurching to his feet he staggered with her at a stumbling run towards the river. Half blinded by sweat he reached the railing. Lowering her beside one of the cannons, he dashed the sweat from his eyes and peered down at the black fog misted water. To his unutterable thankfulness he saw the dark hulk of the launch just nosing her way in.

In a hoarse whisper he hailed her. A low answering hail came back. Apprehensively he glanced over his shoulder, but no movement broke the surrounding gloom. The tide was ebbing fast. The nose of the launch grounded three feet out from the embankment wall; but it was near enough. He hoisted Sabine's limp body on to the rail. Then he leaned over and said in a voice just loud enough for Kasdar to hear him:

'She is unconscious. By mistake she took some dope that knocked her out. But that was over an hour and a half ago. Water in the face and a hard slapping ought to bring her round pretty soon now.'

As he finished speaking he grasped the rope again in his lacerated hands, and tipped her over. Lowering her was renewed torture, and he could feel the blood oozing between his fingers. But a man that Kasdar had brought with him was standing in the bow. He caught Sabine by her dangling ankles, drew her towards him, seized her round the waist, and took the strain. With a moan of relief, Gregory let go the rope.

At that instant the silence was shattered by a challenge, 'Halt! Who goes there?'

Gregory swung round. Only a dozen yards away a figure had suddenly emerged from the fog and was rushing upon him.

'Jump for it!' shouted Kasdar. 'Jump for it!'

But momentarily Gregory seemed paralysed. Within a matter of seconds the sentry was upon him, yelling, 'Hands up! Hands up! Stay where you are, or it'll be the worse for you!5

Coming to life Gregory sprang at him and seized his rifle. As they struggled for the weapon their voices mingled in new shouts. Gregory was calling to Kasdar:

'Get her away! Her life depends on it! Never mind me! Get her away!' while the sentry was bellowing:

'Turn out the guard! Turn out the guard!'

Already the other two sentries had heard the commotion. Their nail studded boots rang upon the roadway as they raced to the scene, and both of them were echoing their comrade's shouts:

'Guard, turn out! Turn out the guard!'

Another minute and Gregory was the centre of a melee in which all three men, although hampered by their rifles, were trying to seize him. He caught a glimpse of the launch disappearing in the darkness. Then one of the soldiers reversed his rifle and struck at him with its butt. The heavy blow caught him on the shoulder. His knees buckled and he fell backwards. His head struck the iron wheel of the cannon behind him, and he went out like a light.

Epilogue

On the morning of Thursday, November 12th, Sir Pellinore was sitting at his desk in his big library. At a little after midday Erika joined him there. She had only just arrived from Gwaine Meads, as the result of a letter she had received from him that morning. Her rich gold hair was as smoothly done, and her fine face as carefully made up, as usual, but there were deep shadows between her high cheekbones and pansy blue eyes; and, whereas she habitually carried herself with distinction, there was now a despondent droop about her shoulders.

Coming to his feet, Sir Pellinore boomed, 'Delighted to see you, my dear. Got your telegram an hour ago. But you needn't have bothered to send one. You're always welcome here. You know that.'

As she thanked him she stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. Then he held a chair for her and went on, 'Bad business this, about Gregory; but I thought you ought to know.'

'It's terrible!' she said. 'Terrible! I think that woman must have Satanic powers, and have cast a spell on him. But witch or not, I could cheerfully murder her.'

'Oh, I don't know.' Sir Pellinore sat down again, leaned back and tapped the tips of his fingers together. 'She wasn't really to blame for this business. Gregory was determined to get her out even before he'd been down to the Tower to see her. You could hardly expect her to refuse the offer.'

'Why didn't you stop him?'

'I tried to. But you know what he's like when he's got the bit between his teeth.'

'Is he badly injured?'

'Troops gave him a pretty rough handling. One of them broke his collar bone with a rifle butt, and he cracked the back of his head open fallin' against an old cannon. But he wasn't looking too bad when I went down to see him in the prison hospital yesterday.'

'What will they do to him?'

Sir Pellinore pulled a long face. 'The charge for assistin' an enemy agent to escape is treason. At the worst that could mean death. But it may not come to that in view of the services he has rendered to his country.'

Seeing that Erika's lower lip had begun to tremble, he leant forward quickly. 'Don't take too black a view! No good doin' that. Let's talk of something more cheerful. This North Africa show has been a wonderful success. Little short of a miracle. Off Casablanca the night before the weather was most unpromisin'. But whatever the Americans' faults they've plenty of guts. Their Admiral decided to go in, and God calmed the waters for them. Our end, too, went without a hitch. Just think of it! All those hundreds of ships, and nearly a hundred thousand troops, conveyed over a thousand miles of ocean without the loss of a single life.'

Erika' nodded. 'Yes, it's almost unbelievable.'

'I happen to know the inside story of how the job was done,' Sir Pellinore went on, 'and it's fascinatin. Positively fasclnatin'. As everyone knows, from Marlborough to Hitler, a good Cover Plan has always been half the battle. To start with, by putting rumours out among the neutrals, and that sort of thing, our people persuaded the German Intelligence to believe that the convoys were heading for Dakar. But, of course, that couldn't hold once they'd passed through the Straits of Gib., so we tried to fox them that we meant to relieve Malta and invade Sicily. Not easy that.

'Stuff that's come into our hands shows that right up to the Friday Kesselring was convinced that we meant to go into North Africa. He had his Air Force based on Sicily all ready to strike. If he had struck on the Saturday afternoon we must have lost scores of ships and thousands of men. But he didn't. That night he had positive information from his boss, Goering, that the convoys would sail past southern Sicily and make their landings on the east coast of the island. He decided not to risk a single aircraft in a long range attack.

'Instead he made his fellers spend the whole of Saturday tinkerin' up aircraft that had been damaged or were out of commission. He gave orders that every plane that could be made to fly should go up on Sunday afternoon. He'd worked it out that our convoys would then be goin' through the narrows between the tip of Sicily and Cape Bon. If they had It would have been a massacre. But they didn't. On Saturday evening they sailed past Oran and Algiers, to keep him thinkin' that he was right and would make his killing. Then, after dark, they turned back. Early on Sunday morning they went in to their true objectives, and left the enemy flat.'

Again Erika nodded. 'I see,' she said without a smile. 'That was… What a clever thing to do.'

Sir Pellinore stroked up his white moustache, and remarked a shade reproachfully, 'You don't seem particularly interested, m'dear.'

'Of course I am!' she murmured. 'It was a wonderful idea.' Then she burst out: 'But how can you expect me to think of anything but Gregory? From the moment I had your letter, telling me how he had helped that woman to escape, and of his awful intrigue with the Moldavian Colonel, I've been able to think of nothing else. It's horrifying, terrible, to think what they may do to him.'

The old man raised his bushy eyebrows. 'Naturally you are upset. Knew you would be. You're much too nice a gel not to be sorry for an old friend who's made a mucker. But I understood from him after you last saw him that you had broken with him entirely. Does this mean that you still love him?'

'Love him!' she cried. 'He is more to me than my life! I don't care what he's done! For him to have played the traitor seems utterly inconceivable. But if he has, I don't care. I came down on the first train to beg you to arrange for me to be allowed to see him. He's ill; not only physically but mentally. He must be if this awful charge is true. I mean to tell him that I am still his, now and for always; and that if he is sent to prison I'll wait for him till he comes out.'

She burst into tears. Sir Pellinore stood up, came round from behind his desk and laid a hand on her shoulder. 'Don't cry, my dear. Everything is going to be all right. Afraid I've led you up the garden path a bit. But I had to. Seemed to me that provokin' you into a first-class emotional crisis was the best way to make you put the past behind you and think only of the future.'

Erika drew in a sharp breath. 'Do you… do you mean that he won't be sent to prison?'

'He's been in prison for the past week,' Sir Pellinore smiled, 'but they're letting him out. Now, dry your tears, m'dear, and I'll tell you the inner inside story of the great show I was telling you about just now,'

While Erika dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief the Baronet went back to his chair, and began:

'After Gregory had decided that come hell or high water he meant to get the little Baroness out, he evolved a plan for doing the job which entailed giving away to the enemy some of our secrets. I didn't like it. Damnably risky. Might have caused a ghastly mess if things had gone wrong. Still, seein' that he was determined to get her out anyhow, and this scheme offered the only chance of saving him from landin' himself in prison, I reluctantly agreed to help.

'Getting her out of the Tower could be fixed. It was, and by me; but not till the very last day, and then only to a limited extent. One indiscretion could have blown the whole works. With the approval of the people at the top I roped in a friend of mine, a Colonel in M.I.5. He fixed things with the Governor of the Tower and the Officer of the Guard for the night. The sentries were given orders to watch for the launch. They were to make certain that the woman got away in it, then run in and grab the man. They were told nothing else.

'Unfortunately Gregory put up too realistic a fight and got hurt. Anyhow he would have been arrested and clapped into jail. He had to be, and everything else about the escape had to be one hundred per cent genuine. Otherwise the Baroness might have suspected that things weren't quite what they looked, or through a leak it might somehow or other have got through to the Germans that her escape was a put-up job. It was in order that the Moldavians should continue to be hoaxed that we've kept Gregory in the hospital at Brixton Prison. There was no avoidin' dopin' the two wardresses, but they are both being given a month's leave on full pay. And although a few people may wonder why Gregory is allowed to go free, no one except a little handful of us will ever know the whole truth.

'But gettin' her out of the Tower was only half the job; and ' the easier half, at that. She had to be got out of the country. Not to Ireland or South America, but straight back to the Continent. And on a date that couldn't be altered. That's where Gregory excelled himself. He got hold of this Moldavian Colonel feller called Karbar, or some such outlandish name. Pretended he was potty about the Baroness and asked this feller's help. It transpired that Karsar could put her across in a Moldavian seagoing tug; and, of course, we could fix the Navy to let it through their patrols. But he wouldn't play without some inducement. We'd expected that. It was to feed him that I got for Gregory those titbits of true information. God Almighty, what a game it was. My hair's white already but it's a marvel the lot didn't drop out. Every move depended on perfect timing, and the worry of it nearly drove me to drink. Still, we managed to block the most important bits by stopping the diplomatic bags from November the 4th. That was all part of the plan. It forced Kabbar to use the Baroness as a courier. You see, as she was in the lockup we couldn't give her the stuff to take out with her. It had to be passed to her by this old friend of hers, the Moldavian; otherwise she would have smelt a rat.'

Sir Pellinore paused for a moment and Erika said, 'But I don't understand. You say this was true information that Gregory was giving to the Moldavian. Why did you want her to take it out?'

Sitting back, the old man gave a great guffaw of laughter. 'My dear, that was the cream of the jest. The German Intelligence take a lot of foolin'. I believe our people did a grand job; but the only way to clinch the deal was to land a red-hot tip on Hitler personally. The Baroness tricked Gregory into bringing her here to spy for the Nazis. He tricked her by making her take out the stuff.

'The neutrals aren't all pro Germans by a long chalk. We have plenty of them working for us, and we know quite a bit about what takes place on the other side. Yesterday we learned what happened last week. By the morning of the 6th the Baroness was back with her old pal Ribbentrop. He put her stuff slap on the housepainter's desk. Hitler told Goering to get on to Kesselring and order the all-out attack for Sunday afternoon. The information Gregory gave Kasbar was dead right except that to fit the Cover Plan he told him that D-Day was on the 9th instead of the 8th. Then he sold him the Cover' Plan about our going into Sicily for the Baroness to take back to Berlin. It's the greatest coup he's ever pulled off,'

Erika was now crying with joy. Running round the big table desk she threw her arms about Sir Pellinore's neck, kissed him again and again, and stammered out her relief and happiness.

'Steady on, m'dear,' he said after a moment, 'or you'll have me tryin' to take you off Gregory yet. It's time we had a glass of wine. You look as though you could do with a tonic' Leaning forward, he pressed the bell on his desk twice.

Two minutes later the door opened. The elderly housemaid came in carrying a magnum of Louis Roederer '28 in an ice bucket. Behind her, framed in the doorway, stood Gregory. His head was bandaged, his left arm was in a sling, and he was pale from loss of blood; but he was smiling.

He was looking at Erika and she at him. No words were needed. All the love they felt for one another was in their eyes.

Sir Pellinore too was smiling. Brushing up his white moustache he murmured to himself, 'The greatest coup he has ever pulled off; and I haven't pulled off a bad one myself.'