I“Find your young man?” asked Mr. Dakin.
Victoria nodded.
“Find anything else?”
Rather mournfully, Victoria shook her head.
“Well, cheer up,” said Mr. Dakin. “Remember, in this game, results arefew and far between. You might have picked up something there—onenever knows, but I wasn’t in any way counting on it.”
“Can I still go on trying?” asked Victoria.
“Do you want to?”
“Yes, I do. Edward thinks he can get me a job at the Olive Branch. If Ikeep my ears and eyes open, I might find out something, mightn’t I? Theyknow something about Anna Scheele there.”
“Now that’s very interesting, Victoria. How did you learn that?”
Victoria repeated what Edward had told her—about Catherine’s remarkthat when “Anna Scheele came” they would take their orders from her.
“Very interesting,” said Mr. Dakin.
“Who is Anna Scheele?” asked Victoria. “I mean, you must know some-thing about her—or is she just a name?”
“She’s more than a name. She’s confidential1 secretary to an Americanbanker—head of an international banking2 firm. She left New York andcame to London about ten days ago. Since then she’s disappeared.”
“Disappeared? She’s not dead?”
“If so, her dead body hasn’t been found.”
“But she may be dead?”
“Oh yes, she may be dead.”
“Was she—coming to Baghdad?”
“I’ve no idea. It would seem from the remarks of this young womanCatherine, that she was. Or shall we say—is—since as yet there’s no reasonto believe she isn’t still alive.”
“Perhaps I can find out more at the Olive Branch.”
“Perhaps you can—but I must warn you once more to be very careful,Victoria. The organization you are up against is quite ruthless. I wouldmuch rather not have your dead body found floating down the Tigris.”
Victoria gave a little shiver and murmured:
“Like Sir Rupert Crofton Lee. You know that morning he was at the hotelhere there was something odd about him—something that surprised me. Iwish I could remember what it was….”
“In what way—odd?”
“Well—different.” Then in response to the inquiring look, she shook herhead vexedly. “It will come back to me, perhaps. Anyway I don’t supposeit really matters.”
“Anything might matter.”
“If Edward gets me a job, he thinks I ought to get a room like the othergirls in a sort of boardinghouse or paying guest place, not stay on here.”
“It would create less surmise3. Baghdad hotels are very expensive. Youryoung man seems to have his head screwed on the right way.”
“Do you want to see him?”
Dakin shook his head emphatically.
“No, tell him to keep right away from me. You, unfortunately, owing tothe circumstances on the night of Carmichael’s death, are bound to be sus-pect. But Edward is not linked with that occurrence or with me in any way—and that’s valuable.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” said Victoria. “Who actually did stabCarmichael? Was it someone who followed him here?”
“No,” said Dakin slowly. “That couldn’t have been so.”
“Couldn’t?”
“He came in a gufa—one of those native boats—and he wasn’t followed.
We know that because I had someone watching the river.”
“Then it was someone—in the hotel?”
“Yes, Victoria. And what is more someone in one particular wing of thehotel—for I myself was watching the stairs and no one came up them.”
He watched her rather puzzled face and said quietly:
“That doesn’t really give us very many names. You and I and Mrs.
Cardew Trench4, and Marcus and his sisters. A couple of elderly servantswho have been here for years. A man called Harrison from Kirkuk againstwhom nothing is known. A nurse who works at the Jewish Hospital…Itmight be any of them—yet all of them are unlikely for one very goodreason.”
“What is that?”
“Carmichael was on his guard. He knew that the peak moment of hismission was approaching. He was a man with a very keen instinct fordanger. How did that instinct let him down?”
“Those police that came—” began Victoria.
“Ah, they came after—up from the street. They’d had a signal, I suppose.
But they didn’t do the stabbing. That must have been done by someoneCarmichael knew well, whom he trusted… or alternatively whom hejudged negligible. If I only knew….”
II
Achievement brings with it its own anticlimax5. To get to Baghdad, tofind Edward, to penetrate6 the secrets of the Olive Branch: all this had ap-peared as an entrancing programme. Now, her objective attained7, Vic-toria, in a rare moment of self-questioning, sometimes wondered what onearth she was doing! The rapture8 of reunion with Edward had come andgone. She loved Edward, Edward loved her. They were, on most days,working under the same roof—but thinking about it dispassionately, whaton earth were they doing?
By some means or other, sheer force of determination, or ingenious per-suasion, Edward had been instrumental in Victoria’s being offered a mea-grely-paid job at the Olive Branch. She spent most of her time in a smalldark room with the electric light on, typing on a very faulty machine vari-ous notices and letters and manifestos of the milk and water programmeof the Olive Branch activities. Edward had had a hunch9 there was some-thing wrong about the Olive Branch. Mr. Dakin had seemed to agree withthat view. She, Victoria, was here to find out what she could, but as far asshe could see, there was nothing to find out! The Olive Branch activitiesdripped with the honey of international peace. Various gatherings10 wereheld with orangeade to drink and depressing edibles11 to go with it, and atthese Victoria was supposed to act as quasi-hostess; to mix, to introduce, topromote general good feeling amongst various foreign nationals, whowere inclined to stare with animosity at one another and wolf refresh-ments hungrily.
As far as Victoria could see, there were no undercurrents, no conspir-acies, no inner rings. All was aboveboard, mild as milk and water, anddesperately dull. Various dark-skinned young men made tentative love toher, others lent her books to read which she skimmed through and foundtedious. She had, by now, left the Tio Hotel and had taken up her quarterswith some other young women workers of various nationalities in a houseon the west bank of the river. Amongst these young women was Cather-ine, and it seemed to Victoria that Catherine watched her with a suspi-cious eye, but whether this was because Catherine suspected her of beinga spy on the activities of the Olive Branch or whether it was the more del-icate matter of Edward’s affections, Victoria was unable to make up hermind. She rather fancied the latter. It was known that Edward had se-cured Victoria her job and several pairs of jealous dark eyes looked at herwithout undue12 affection.
The fact was, Victoria thought moodily13, that Edward was far too attract-ive. All these girls had fallen for him, and Edward’s engaging friendlymanner to one and all did nothing to help. By agreement between them,Victoria and Edward were to show no signs of special intimacy14. If theywere to find out anything worth finding out, they must not be suspected ofworking together. Edward’s manner to her was the same as to any of theother young women, with an added shade of coldness.
Though the Olive Branch itself seemed so innocuous Victoria had a dis-tinct feeling that its head and founder15 was in a different category. Once ortwice she was aware of Dr. Rathbone’s dark thoughtful gaze resting uponher and though she countered it with her most innocent and kitten-like ex-pression, she felt a sudden throb16 of something like fear.
Once, when she had been summoned to his presence (for explanation ofa typing error), the matter went farther than a glance.
“You are happy working with us, I hope?” he asked.
“Oh yes, indeed, sir,” said Victoria, and added: “I’m sorry I make somany mistakes.”
“We don’t mind mistakes. A soulless machine would be no use to us. Weneed youth, generosity17 of spirit, broadness of outlook.”
Victoria endeavoured to look eager and generous.
“You must love the work…love the object for which you are working…look forward to the glorious future. Are you truly feeling all that, dearchild?”
“It’s all so new to me,” said Victoria. “I don’t feel I have taken it all inyet.”
“Get together — get together — young people everywhere must get to-gether. That is the main thing. You enjoy your evenings of free discussionand comradeship?”
“Oh! yes,” said Victoria, who loathed18 them.
“Agreement, not dissension — brotherhood19, not hatred20. Slowly andsurely it is growing—you do feel that, don’t you?”
Victoria thought of the endless petty jealousies21, the violent dislikes, theendless quarrels, hurt feelings, apologies demanded; and hardly knewwhat she was expected to say.
“Sometimes,” she said cautiously, “people are difficult.”
“I know…I know…” Dr. Rathbone sighed. His noble domed22 forehead fur-rowed itself in perplexity. “What is this I hear of Michael Rakounian strik-ing Isaac Nahoum and cutting his lip open?”
“They were just having a little argument,” said Victoria.
Dr. Rathbone brooded mournfully.
“Patience and faith,” he murmured. “Patience and faith.”
Victoria murmured a dutiful assent23 and turned to leave. Then, remem-bering she had left her typescript, she came back again. The glance shecaught in Dr. Rathbone’s eye startled her a little. It was a keen suspiciousglance, and she wondered uneasily just how closely she was beingwatched, and what Dr. Rathbone really thought about her.
Her instructions from Mr. Dakin were very precise. She was to obey cer-tain rules for communicating with him if she had anything to report. Hehad given her an old faded pink handkerchief. If she had anything to re-port she was to walk, as she often did when the sun was setting along theriverbank, near her hostel24. There was a narrow path in front of the housesthere for perhaps a quarter of a mile. In one place a big flight of steps leddown to the water’s edge and boats were constantly being tied up there.
There was a rusty25 nail in one of the wooden posts at the top. Here she wasto affix26 a small piece of the pink handkerchief if she wanted to get intocommunication with Dakin. So far, Victoria reflected bitterly, there hadbeen no need for anything of the sort. She was merely doing an ill-paid jobin a slovenly27 fashion. Edward she saw at rare intervals28, since he was al-ways being sent to far-off places by Dr. Rathbone. At the moment, he hadjust come back from Persia. During his absence, she had had one shortand somewhat unsatisfactory interview with Dakin. Her instructions hadbeen to go to the Tio Hotel and ask if she had left a cardigan behind. Theanswer having been in the negative, Marcus appeared and immediatelyswept her out on to the riverbank for a drink. During the process Dakinhad shambled in from the street and had been hailed by Marcus to jointhem, and presently, as Dakin supped lemonade, Marcus had been calledaway and the two of them sat there on opposite sides of the small paintedtable.
Rather apprehensively29 Victoria confessed her utter lack of success, butDakin was indulgently reassuring30.
“My dear child, you don’t even know what you are looking for or even ifthere is anything to find. Taken by and large what is your consideredopinion of the Olive Branch?”
“It’s a thoroughly31 dim show,” said Victoria slowly.
“Dim, yes. But not bogus?”
“I don’t know,” said Victoria slowly. “People are so sold on the idea ofculture if you know what I mean?”
“You mean that where anything cultured is concerned, nobody exam-ines bona fides in the way they would if it were a charitable or a financialproposition? That’s true. And you’ll find genuine enthusiasts32 there, I’ve nodoubt. But is the organization being used?”
“I think there’s a lot of Communist activity going on,” said Victoriadoubtfully. “Edward thinks so too—he’s making me read Karl Marx andleave it about just to see what reactions there will be.”
Dakin nodded.
“Interesting. Any response so far?”
“No, not yet.”
“What about Rathbone? Is he genuine?”
“I think really that he is—” Victoria sounded doubtful.
“He’s the one I worry about, you see,” said Dakin. “Because he’s a bignoise. Suppose there is a Communist plotting going on — students andyoung revolutionaries have very little chance of coming into contact withthe President. Police measures will look after bombs thrown from thestreet. But Rathbone’s different. He’s one of the high-ups, a distinguishedman with a fine record of public beneficence. He could come in close con-tact with the distinguished33 visitors. He probably will. I’d like to knowabout Rathbone.”
Yes, Victoria thought to herself, it all centred round Rathbone. On thefirst meeting in London, weeks ago, Edward’s vague remarks about the“fishiness” of the show had had their origin in his employer. And theremust, Victoria decided34 suddenly, have been some incident, some word,that had awakened35 Edward’s uneasiness. For that, in Victoria’s belief, washow minds worked. Your vague doubt or distrust was never just a hunch—it was really always due to a cause. If Edward, now, could be made tothink back, to remember; between them they might hit upon the fact or in-cident that had aroused his suspicions. In the same way, Victoria thought,she herself must try to think back to what it was that had so surprised herwhen she came out upon the balcony at the Tio and found Sir RupertCrofton Lee sitting there in the sun. It was true that she had expected himto be at the Embassy and not at the Tio Hotel but that was not enough toaccount for the strong feeling she had had that his sitting there was quiteimpossible! She would go over and over the events of that morning, andEdward must be urged to go over and over his early association with Dr.
Rathbone. She would tell him so when next she got him alone. But to getEdward alone was not easy. To begin with he had been away in Persia andnow that he was back, private communications at the Olive Branch wereout of the question where the slogan of the last war (“Les oreilles enemiesvous écoutent”) might have been written up all over the walls. In the Ar-menian household where she was a paying guest, privacy was equally im-possible. Really, thought Victoria to herself, for all I see of Edward, I mightas well have stayed in En gland36!
That this was not quite true was proved very shortly afterwards.
Edward came to her with some sheets of manuscripts and said:
“Dr. Rathbone would like this typed out at once, please, Victoria. Be es-pecially careful of the second page, there are some rather tricky37 Arabnames on it.”
Victoria, with a sigh, inserted a sheet of paper in her typewriter andstarted off in her usual dashing style. Dr. Rathbone’s handwriting was notparticularly difficult to read and Victoria was just congratulating herselfthat she had made less mistakes than usual. She laid the top sheet asideand proceeded to the next—and at once realized the meaning of Edward’sinjunction to be careful of the second page. A tiny note in Edward’s hand-writing was pinned to the top of it.
Go for a walk along the Tigris bank past the Beit Melek Alitomorrow morning about eleven.
The following day was Friday, the weekly holiday. Victoria’s spirits rosemercurially. She would wear her jade-green pullover. She ought really toget her hair shampooed. The amenities38 of the house where she lived madeit difficult to wash it herself. “And it really needs it,” she murmured aloud.
“What did you say?” Catherine, at work on a pile of circulars and envel-opes, raised her head suspiciously from the next table.
Victoria quickly crumpled39 up Edward’s note in her hand as she saidlightly:
“My hair wants washing. Most of these hairdressing places look sofrightfully dirty, I don’t know where to go.”
“Yes, they are dirty and expensive too. But I know a girl who washeshair very well and the towels are clean. I will take you there.”
“That’s very kind of you, Catherine,” said Victoria.
“We will go tomorrow. It is holiday.”
“Not tomorrow,” said Victoria.
“Why not tomorrow?”
A suspicious stare was bent40 upon her. Victoria felt her usual annoyanceand dislike of Catherine rising.
“I’d rather go for a walk—get some air. One is so cooped up here.”
“Where can you walk? There is nowhere to walk in Baghdad.”
“I shall find somewhere,” said Victoria.
“It would be better to go to the cinema. Or is there an interesting lec-ture?”
“No, I want to get out. In En gland we like going for walks.”
“Because you are English, you are so proud and stuck up. What does itmean to be English? Next to nothing. Here we spit upon the English.”
“If you start spitting on me you may get a surprise,” said Victoria, won-dering as usual at the ease with which angry passions seemed to rise atthe Olive Branch.
“What would you do?”
“Try and see.”
“Why do you read Karl Marx? You cannot understand it. You are muchtoo stupid. Do you think they would ever accept you as a member of theCommunist Party? You are not well enough educated politically.”
“Why shouldn’t I read it? It was meant for people like me—workers.”
“You are not a worker. You are bourgeoise. You cannot even type prop-erly. Look at the mistakes you make.”
“Some of the cleverest people can’t spell,” said Victoria with dignity.
“And how can I work when you keep talking to me?”
She rattled41 off a line at break- neck speed — and was then somewhatchagrined to find that as a result of unwittingly depressing the shift key,she had written a line of exclamation42 marks, figures and brackets. Remov-ing the sheet from the machine she replaced it with another and appliedherself diligently43 until, her task finished, she took the result in to Dr. Rath-bone.
Glancing over it and murmuring, “Shiraz is in Iran not Iraq—and any-way you don’t spell Iraq with a k…Wasit—not Wuzle—er—thank you, Vic-toria.”
Then as she was leaving the room he called her back.
“Victoria, are you happy here?”
“Oh yes, Dr. Rathbone.”
The dark eyes under the massive brows were very searching. She feltuneasiness rising.
“I’m afraid we do not pay you very much.”
“That doesn’t matter,” said Victoria. “I like to work.”
“Do you really?
“Oh yes,” said Victoria. “One feels,” she added, “that this sort of thing isreally worthwhile.”
Her limpid44 gaze met the dark searching eyes and did not falter45.
“And you manage—to live?”
“Oh yes—I’ve found quite a good cheap place—with some Armenians.
I’m quite all right.”
“There is a shortage at present of shorthand typists in Baghdad,” saidDr. Rathbone. “I think, you know, that I could get you a better positionthan the one you have here.”
“But I don’t want any other position.”
“You might be wise to take one.”
“Wise?” Victoria faltered46 a little.
“That is what I said. Just a word of warning—of advice.”
There was something faintly menacing now in his tone.
Victoria opened her eyes still wider.
“I really don’t understand, Dr. Rathbone,” she said.
“Sometimes it is wiser not to mix oneself up in things one does not un-derstand.”
She felt quite sure of the menace this time, but she continued to stare inkitten-eyed innocence47.
“Why did you come and work here, Victoria? Because of Edward?”
Victoria flushed angrily.
“Of course not,” she said indignantly. She was much annoyed.
Dr. Rathbone nodded his head.
“Edward has his way to make. It will be many many years before he isin a position to be of any use to you. I should give up thinking of Edward ifI were you. And, as I say, there are good positions to be obtained atpresent, with a good salary and prospects48 — and which will bring youamongst your own kind.”
He was still watching her, Victoria thought, very closely. Was this a test?
She said with an affectation of eagerness:
“But I really am very keen on the Olive Branch, Dr. Rathbone.”
He shrugged49 his shoulders then and she left him, but she could feel hiseyes in the centre of her spine50 as she left the room.
She was somewhat disturbed by the interview. Had something occurredto arouse his suspicions? Did he guess that she might be a spy placed inthe Olive Branch to find out its secrets? His voice and manner had madeher feel unpleasantly afraid. His suggestion that she had come there to benear Edward had made her angry at the time and she had vigorouslydenied it, but she realized now that it was infinitely51 safer that Dr. Rath-bone should suppose her to have come to the Olive Branch for Edward’ssake than to have even an inkling that Mr. Dakin had been instrumental inthe matter. Anyway, owing to her idiotic52 blush, Rathbone probably didthink that it was Edward—so that all had really turned out for the best.
Nevertheless she went to sleep that night with an unpleasant little clutchof fear at her heart.
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confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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banking
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| n.银行业，银行学，金融业 | |
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surmise
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| v./n.猜想，推测 | |
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trench
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| n./v.(挖)沟，(挖)战壕 | |
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anticlimax
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| n.令人扫兴的结局；突降法 | |
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penetrate
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attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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rapture
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hunch
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gatherings
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| 聚集( gathering的名词复数 )； 收集； 采集； 搜集 | |
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edibles
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| 可以吃的，可食用的( edible的名词复数 )； 食物 | |
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undue
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moodily
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| adv.喜怒无常地；情绪多变地；心情不稳地；易生气地 | |
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intimacy
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Founder
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| n.创始者，缔造者 | |
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throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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generosity
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loathed
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brotherhood
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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jealousies
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| n.妒忌( jealousy的名词复数 )；妒羡 | |
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domed
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| adj. 圆屋顶的, 半球形的, 拱曲的 动词dome的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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assent
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hostel
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rusty
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affix
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slovenly
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| adj.懒散的，不整齐的，邋遢的 | |
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intervals
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apprehensively
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reassuring
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thoroughly
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enthusiasts
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distinguished
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decided
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awakened
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gland
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tricky
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amenities
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| n.令人愉快的事物；礼仪；礼节；便利设施；礼仪( amenity的名词复数 )；便利设施；（环境等的）舒适；（性情等的）愉快 | |
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crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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bent
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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diligently
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| ad.industriously;carefully | |
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limpid
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| adj.清澈的，透明的 | |
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45
falter
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| vi.(嗓音)颤抖，结巴地说；犹豫；蹒跚 | |
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46
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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47
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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48
prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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49
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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50
spine
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| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
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51
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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52
idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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