IThe big Skymaster swooped1 down from the air and made a perfect land-ing. It taxied gently along the runway and presently came to a stop at theappointed place. The passengers were invited to descend2. Those going onto Basrah were separated from those who were catching3 a connectingplane to Baghdad.
Of the latter there were four. A prosperous-looking Iraqi business man,a young English doctor and two women. They all passed through the vari-ous controls and questioning.
A dark woman with untidy hair imperfectly bound in a scarf and a tiredface came first.
“Mrs. Pauncefoot Jones? British. Yes. To join your husband. Your ad-dress in Baghdad, please? What money have you…?”
It went on. Then the second woman took the first one’s place.
“Grete Harden. Yes. Nationality? Danish. From London. Purpose of visit?
Masseuse at hospital? Address in Baghdad? What money have you?”
Grete Harden was a thin, fair- haired young woman wearing darkglasses. Some rather blotchily applied4 cosmetic5 concealed6 what mighthave been a blemish7 on her upper lip. She wore neat but slightly shabbyclothes.
Her French was halting—occasionally she had to have the question re-peated.
The four passengers were told that the Baghdad plane took off that af-ternoon. They would be driven now to the Abbassid Hotel for a rest andlunch.
Grete Harden was sitting on her bed when a tap came on the door. Sheopened it and found a tall dark young woman wearing BOAC uniform.
“I’m so sorry, Miss Harden. Would you come with me to the BOAC of-fice? A little difficulty has arisen about your ticket. This way, please.”
Grete Harden followed her guide down the passage. On a door was alarge board lettered in gold—BOAC office.
The air hostess opened the door and motioned the other inside. Then, asGrete Harden passed through, she closed the door from outside andquickly unhooked the board.
As Grete Harden came through the door, two men who had been stand-ing behind it passed a cloth over her head. They stuffed a gag into hermouth. One of them rolled her sleeve up, and bringing out a hyperdermicsyringe gave her an injection.
In a few minutes her body sagged8 and went limp.
The young doctor said cheerfully, “That ought to take care of her forabout six hours, anyway. Now then, you two, get on with it.”
He nodded towards two other occupants of the room. They were nunswho were sitting immobile by the window. The men went out of the room.
The elder of the two nuns9 went to Grete Harden and began to take theclothes off her inert11 body. The younger nun10, trembling a little, started tak-ing off her habit. Presently Grete Harden, dressed in a nun’s habit, lay re-posefully on the bed. The younger nun was now dressed in Grete Harden’sclothes.
The older nun turned her attention to her companion’s flaxen hair.
Looking at a photograph which she propped12 up against the mirror, shecombed and dressed the hair, bringing it back from the forehead and coil-ing it low on the neck.
She stepped back and said in French:
“Astonishing how it changes you. Put on the dark spectacles. Your eyesare too deep a blue. Yes—that is admirable.”
There was a slight tap on the door and the two men came in again. Theywere grinning.
“Grete Harden is Anna Scheele all right,” one said. “She’d got the papersin her luggage, carefully camouflaged13 between the leaves of a Danish pub-lication on ‘Hospital Massage14.’ Now then, Miss Harden,” he bowed withmock ceremony to Victoria, “you will do me the honour to have lunch withme.”
Victoria followed him out of the room and along to the hall. The otherwoman passenger was trying to send off a telegram at the desk.
“No,” she was saying, “P A U N C E foot. Dr. Pauncefoot Jones. Arrivingtoday Tio Hotel, Good journey.”
Victoria looked at her with sudden interest. This must be Dr. PauncefootJones’ wife, coming out to join him. That she was a week earlier than ex-pected did not seem to Victoria at all extraordinary since Dr. PauncefootJones had several times lamented15 that he had lost her letter giving thedate of arrival but that he was almost certain it was the 26th!
If only she could somehow or other send a message through Mrs.
Pauncefoot Jones to Richard Baker16….
Almost as though he read her thoughts, the man accompanying hersteered her by the elbow away from the desk.
“No conversation with fellow travellers, Miss Harden,” he said. “Wedon’t want that good woman to notice that you’re a different person fromthe one she came out from En gland17 with.”
He took her out of the hotel to a restaurant for lunch. As they cameback, Mrs. Pauncefoot Jones was coming down the steps of the hotel. Shenodded without suspicion at Victoria.
“Been sightseeing?” she called. “I’m just going to the bazaars18.”
“If I could slip something into her luggage…” thought Victoria.
But she was not left alone for a moment.
The Baghdad plane left at three o’clock.
Mrs. Pauncefoot Jones’ seat was right up in front. Victoria’s was in thetail, near the door, and across the aisle20 sat the fair young man who washer gaoler. Victoria had no chance of reaching the other woman or of in-troducing a message into any of her belongings21.
The flight was not a long one. For the second time, Victoria looked downfrom the air and saw the city outlined below her, the Tigris dividing it likea streak22 of gold.
So she had seen it less than a month ago. How much had happenedsince then.
In two days’ time the men who represented the two predominant ideolo-gies of the world would meet here to discuss the future.
And she, Victoria Jones, would have a part to play.
II
“You know,” said Richard Baker, “I’m worried about that girl.”
Dr. Pauncefoot Jones said vaguely23:
“What girl?”
“Victoria.”
“Victoria?” Dr. Pauncefoot Jones peered about. “Where is—why, Godbless me, we came back without her yesterday.”
“I wondered if you’d noticed it,” said Richard.
“Very remiss24 of me. I was so interested by that report of the Excavationsat Tell Bamdar. Completely unsound stratification. Didn’t she know whereto find the lorry?”
“There was no question of her coming back here,” said Richard. “As amatter of fact, she isn’t Venetia Savile.”
“Not Venetia Savile? How very odd. But I thought you said her Christianname was Victoria.”
“It is. But she’s not an anthropologist26. And she doesn’t know Emerson.
As a matter of fact, the whole thing has been a—well—a misunderstand-ing.”
“Dear me. That seems very odd.” Dr. Pauncefoot Jones reflected forsome moments. “Very odd. I do hope—am I to blame? I know I am some-what absentminded. The wrong letter, perhaps?”
“I can’t understand it,” said Richard Baker, frowning and paying no at-tention to Dr. Pauncefoot Jones’ speculations27. “She went off in a car with ayoung man, it seems, and she didn’t come back. What’s more, her baggagewas there and she hadn’t bothered to open it. That seems to me verystrange—considering the mess she was in. I’d have thought she’d be sureto doll herself up. And we agreed to meet here for lunch…No, I can’t un-derstand it. I hope nothing’s happened to her.”
“Oh, I shouldn’t think so for a moment,” said Dr. Pauncefoot Jones com-fortably. “I shall start going down in H. tomorrow. From the general plan Ishould say that would be the best chance of getting a record office. Thatfragment of tablet was very promising28.”
“They’ve kidnapped her once,” said Richard. “What’s to prevent theirhaving kidnapped her again?”
“Very improbable—very improbable,” said Dr. Pauncefoot Jones. “Thecountry’s really very settled nowadays. You said so yourself.”
“If only I could remember the name of that man in some oil company.
Was it Deacon? Deacon, Dakin? Something like that.”
“Never heard of him,” said Dr. Pauncefoot Jones. “I think I shall changeover Mustafa and his gang to the northeast corner. Then we might extendTrench J—”
“Would you mind awfully29, sir, if I went into Baghdad again tomorrow?”
Dr. Pauncefoot Jones, suddenly giving his colleague his full attention,stared at him.
“Tomorrow? But we were there yesterday.”
“I’m worried about that girl. I really am.”
“Dear me, Richard, I had no idea there was anything of that kind.”
“What kind?”
“That you’d formed an attachment30. That’s the worst of having womenon a Dig—especially good-looking ones. I really did think we were safewith Sybil Muirfield the year before last, a really distressingly31 plain girl—and see what came of it! I ought to have listened to Claude in London—these Frenchmen always hit the nail on the head. He commented on herlegs at the time—most enthusiastic about them. Of course this girl, VictoriaVenetia, whatever her name is — most attractive and such a nice littlething. You’ve got good taste, Richard, I will admit that. Funny thing, she’sthe first girl I’ve ever known you take any interest in.”
“There’s nothing of that kind,” said Richard, blushing and looking evenmore supercilious32 than usual. “I’m just—er—worried about her. I must goback to Baghdad.”
“Well, if you are going tomorrow,” said Dr. Pauncefoot Jones, “you mightbring back those extra picks. That fool of a driver forgot them.”
III
Richard started into Baghdad at early dawn and went straight to the TioHotel. Here he learnt that Victoria had not returned.
“And it was all arranged that she was to have special dinner with me,”
said Marcus. “And I kept her a very nice room. It is odd, is it not?”
“Have you been to the Police?”
“Ah no, my dear, it would not be nice, that. She might not like it. And Icertainly would not like it.”
After a little inquiry33, Richard tracked down Mr. Dakin and called uponhim in his office.
His memory of the man had not played him false. He looked at thestooping figure, the indecisive face and the slight tremor34 of the hands. Thisman was no good! He apologized to Mr. Dakin if he was wasting his timebut had he seen Miss Victoria Jones.
“She called on me the day before yesterday.”
“Can you give me her present address?”
“She’s at the Tio Hotel, I believe.”
“Her luggage is there, but she isn’t.”
Mr. Dakin raised his eyebrows35 slightly.
“She has been working with us on the Excavations25 at Tell Aswad,” ex-plained Richard.
“Oh I see. Well—I’m afraid I don’t know anything that can help you. Shehas several friends in Baghdad, I believe — but I don’t know her wellenough to say who they are.”
“Would she be at this Olive Branch?”
“I don’t think so. You could ask.”
Richard said: “Look here. I’m not leaving Baghdad until I find her.”
He frowned at Mr. Dakin and strode out of the room.
Mr. Dakin, as the door closed behind Richard, smiled and shook hishead.
“Oh Victoria,” he murmured reproachfully.
Fuming36 into the Tio Hotel, Richard was met by a beaming Marcus.
“She’s come back,” cried Richard eagerly.
“No, no, it’s Mrs. Pauncefoot Jones. She arrives by plane today I havejust heard. Dr. Pauncefoot Jones, he told me she was coming next week.”
“He always gets dates wrong. What about Victoria Jones?”
Marcus’s face went grave again.
“No, I have heard nothing of her. And I do not like it, Mr. Baker. It is notnice. She is so young a girl. And so pretty. And so gay and charming.”
“Yes, yes,” said Richard, flinching37. “I’d better wait over and greet Mrs.
Pauncefoot Jones, I suppose.”
What on earth he wondered could have happened to Victoria.
IV
“You!” said Victoria with undisguised hostility38.
Ushered39 up to her room in the Babylonian Palace Hotel, the first personshe saw was Catherine.
Catherine nodded her head with equal venom40.
“Yes,” she said. “It is I. And now please go to bed. The doctor will soonarrive.”
Catherine was dressed as a hospital nurse and she took her duties seri-ously, being obviously quite determined41 never to leave Victoria’s side. Vic-toria, lying disconsolately42 in bed, murmured:
“If I could get hold of Edward—”
“Edward—Edward!” said Catherine scornfully. “Edward has never caredfor you, you stupid English girl. It is me whom Edward loves!”
Victoria looked at Catherine’s stubborn fanatical face without enthusi-asm.
Catherine went on:
“Always I have hated you from that first morning you came in and de-manded to see Dr. Rathbone with such rudeness.”
Searching about for an irritant, Victoria said:
“At any rate I’m much more indispensable than you are. Anybody coulddo your hospital nurse act. But the whole thing depends on me doingmine.”
Catherine said with prim43 smugness:
“Nobody is indispensable. We are taught that.”
“Well I am. For goodness’ sake order up a substantial meal. If I don’t getsomething to eat, how do you expect me to give a good performance of anAmerican banker’s secretary when the time comes?”
“I suppose you might as well eat while you can,” said Catherinegrudgingly.
Victoria took no notice of the sinister44 implication.
VCaptain Crosbie said:
“I understand you’ve got a Miss Harden just arrived.”
The suave45 gentleman in the office of the Babylonian Palace inclined hishead.
“Yes, sir. From En gland.”
“She’s a friend of my sister’s. Will you take my card up to her.”
He pencilled a few words on the card and sent it up in an envelope.
Presently the boy who had taken it returned.
“The lady is not well, sir. Very bad throat. Doctor coming soon. She hashospital nurse with her.”
Crosbie turned away. He went along to the Tio where he was accostedby Marcus.
“Ah, my dear, let us have a drink. This evening my hotel is quite full. It isfor the Conference. But what a pity, Dr. Pauncefoot Jones went back to hisExpedition the day before yesterday and now here is his wife who arrivesand expects that he will be here to meet her. And she is not pleased, no!
She says she told him she was coming on this plane. But you know whathe is like, that one. Every date, every time—he always gets it wrong. Buthe is a very nice man,” finished Marcus with his usual charity. “And I havehad to squeeze her in somehow—I turn out a very important man fromUNO—”
“Baghdad seems quite mad.”
“All the police they have drafted in—they are taking great precautions—they say—have you heard?—there is a Communist plot to assassinate46 thePresident. They have arrested sixty-five students! Have you seen the Rus-sian policemen? They are very suspicious of everybody. But all this is verygood for trade—very good indeed.”
VI
The telephone bell rang and was promptly47 answered.
“American Embassy.”
“This is the Babylonian Palace Hotel. Miss Anna Scheele is staying here.”
Anna Scheele? Presently one of the Attachés was speaking. Could MissScheele come to the phone?
“Miss Scheele is ill in bed with laryngitis. This is Dr. Smallbrook. I am at-tending Miss Scheele. She has some important papers with her and wouldlike some responsible person from the Embassy to come and fetch them.
Immediately? Thank you. I will be waiting for you.”
VII
Victoria turned from the mirror. She was wearing a well-cut tailoredsuit. Every blonde hair was in place. She felt nervous but exhilarated.
As she turned, she caught the exultant48 gleam in Catherine’s eyes andwas suddenly on her guard. Why was Catherine exultant?
What was going on?
“What are you so pleased about?” she asked.
“Soon you will see.”
The malice49 was quite unconcealed now.
“You think you are so clever,” said Catherine scornfully. “You thinkeverything depends on you. Pah, you are just a fool.”
With a bound Victoria was upon her! She caught her by the shoulderand dug her fingers in.
“Tell me what you mean, you horrible girl.”
“Ach—you hurt me.”
“Tell me—”
A knock came on the door. A knock twice repeated and then after apause, a single one.
“Now you will see!” cried Catherine.
The door opened and a man slipped in. He was a tall man, dressed in theuniform of the International Police. He locked the door behind him andremoved the key. Then he advanced to Catherine.
“Quickly,” he said.
He took a length of thin cord from his pocket and, with Catherine’s fullcooperation, bound her swiftly to a chair. Then he produced a scarf andtied it over her mouth. He stood back and nodded appreciatively.
“So—that will do nicely.”
Then he turned towards Victoria. She saw the heavy truncheon he wasbrandishing and in a moment it flashed across her brain what the realplan was. They had never intended that she should play the part of AnnaScheele at the Conference. How could they risk such a thing? Victoria wastoo well known in Baghdad? No, the plan was, had always been, that AnnaScheele should be attacked and killed at the last moment—killed in such away that her features would not be recognizable…Only the papers she hadbrought with her—those carefully forged papers—would remain.
Victoria turned away to the window—she screamed. And with a smilethe man came at her.
Then several things happened—there was a crash of broken glass—aheavy hand sent her headlong down—she saw stars—and blackness…Then out of the blackness a voice spoke50, a reassuring51 English voice.
“Are you all right, Miss?” it asked.
Victoria murmured something.
“What did she say?” asked a second voice.
The first man scratched his head.
“Said it was better to serve in Heaven than reign52 in Hell,” he said doubt-fully.
“That’s a quotation,” said the other. “But she’s got it wrong,” he added.
“No, I haven’t,” said Victoria and fainted.
VIII
The telephone rang and Dakin picked up the receiver. A voice said:
“Operation Victoria successfully concluded.”
“Good,” said Dakin.
“We’ve got Catherine Serakis and the medico. The other fellow threwhimself off the balcony. He’s fatally injured.”
“The girl’s not hurt?”
“She fainted—but she’s OK.”
“No news still of the real A. S.?”
“No news whatever.”
Dakin laid down the receiver.
At any rate Victoria was all right—Anna herself, he thought, must bedead…She had insisted on playing a lone19 hand, had reiterated53 that shewould be in Baghdad without fail on the 19th. Today was the 19th andthere was no Anna Scheele. Perhaps she had been right not to trust the of-ficial setup—he didn’t know. Certainly there had been leakages—betray-als. But apparently54 her own native wits had served her no better….
And without Anna Scheele, the evidence was incomplete.
A messenger came in with a piece of paper on which was written Mr.
Richard Baker and Mrs. Pauncefoot Jones.
“I can’t see anybody now,” said Dakin. “Tell them I am very sorry. I amengaged.”
The messenger withdrew, but presently he returned. He handed Dakin anote.
Dakin tore open the envelope and read:
“I want to see you about Henry Carmichael. R. B.”
“Show him in,” said Dakin.
Presently Richard Baker and Mrs. Pauncefoot Jones came in. RichardBaker said:
“I don’t want to take up your time, but I was at school with a man calledHenry Carmichael. We lost sight of each other for many years, but when Iwas at Basrah a few weeks ago I encountered him in the Consulate55 waitingroom. He was dressed as an Arab, and without giving any overt56 sign of re-cognition, he managed to communicate with me. Does this interest you?”
“It interests me very much,” said Dakin.
“I formed the idea that Carmichael believed himself to be in danger.
This was very soon verified. He was attacked by a man with a revolverwhich I managed to knock up. Carmichael took to his heels but before hewent, he slipped something into my pocket which I found later—it didn’tappear to be important—it seems to be just a ‘chit’—a reference for oneAhmed Mohammed. But I acted on the assumption that to Carmichael itwas important.”
“Since he gave me no instructions, I kept it carefully, believing that hewould one day reclaim57 it. The other day I learnt from Victoria Jones thathe was dead. From other things she told me, I have come to the conclusionthat the right person to deliver this object to is you.”
He got up and placed a dirty sheet of paper with writing on it on Dakin’sdesk.
“Does this mean anything to you?”
Dakin drew a deep sigh.
“Yes,” he said. “It means more than you can possibly imagine.”
He got up.
“I’m deeply obliged to you, Baker,” he said. “Forgive my cutting this in-terview short, but there is a lot that I have to see to without wasting aminute.” He shook hands with Mrs. Pauncefoot Jones, saying, “I supposeyou are joining your husband on his Dig. I hope you have a good season.”
“It’s a good thing Pauncefoot Jones didn’t come into Baghdad with methis morning,” said Richard. “Dear old John Pauncefoot Jones doesn’t no-tice much that goes on, but he’d probably notice the difference betweenhis wife and his wife’s sister.”
Dakin looked with slight surprise at Mrs. Pauncefoot Jones. She said in alow pleasant voice.
“My sister Elsie is still in England. I dyed my hair black and came out onher passport. My sister’s maiden58 name was Elsie Scheele. My name, Mr.
Dakin, is Anna Scheele.”
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swooped
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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descend
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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applied
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cosmetic
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concealed
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blemish
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sagged
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nuns
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nun
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inert
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propped
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camouflaged
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massage
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lamented
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baker
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gland
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| n.腺体，(机)密封压盖，填料盖 | |
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bazaars
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| （东方国家的）市场( bazaar的名词复数 )； 义卖； 义卖市场； （出售花哨商品等的）小商品市场 | |
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lone
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aisle
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belongings
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streak
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vaguely
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remiss
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excavations
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anthropologist
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speculations
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promising
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awfully
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attachment
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distressingly
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supercilious
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inquiry
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tremor
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eyebrows
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fuming
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flinching
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hostility
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ushered
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venom
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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disconsolately
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| adv.悲伤地，愁闷地；哭丧着脸 | |
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prim
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| adj.拘泥形式的，一本正经的；n.循规蹈矩，整洁；adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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suave
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| adj.温和的；柔和的；文雅的 | |
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assassinate
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| vt.暗杀，行刺，中伤 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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exultant
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| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
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malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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reign
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| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
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reiterated
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| 反复地说，重申( reiterate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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consulate
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| n.领事馆 | |
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overt
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| adj.公开的，明显的，公然的 | |
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reclaim
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| v.要求归还，收回；开垦 | |
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maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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