The next five days were strenuous1 mentally, though inactive physically2.
Immured3 in a private room in the hospital, Hilary was set to work. Everyevening she had to pass an examination on what she had studied that day.
All the details of Olive Betterton’s life, as far as they could be ascertained,were set down on paper and she had to memorize and learn them byheart. The house she had lived in, the daily woman she had employed, herrelations, the names of her pet dog and her canary, every detail of the sixmonths of her married life with Thomas Betterton. Her wedding, thenames of her bridesmaids, their dresses. The patterns of curtains, carpetsand chintzes. Olive Betterton’s tastes, predilections4, and day by day activit-ies. Her preferences in food and drink. Hilary was forced to marvel5 at theamount of seemingly meaningless information that had been massed to-gether. Once she said to Jessop:
“Can any of this possibly matter?”
And to that he had replied quietly:
“Probably not. But you’ve got to make yourself into the authentic6 article.
Think of it this way, Hilary. You’re a writer. You’re writing a book about awoman. The woman is Olive. You describe scenes of her childhood, hergirlhood; you describe her marriage, the house she lived in. All the timethat you do it she becomes more and more of a real person to you. Thenyou go over it a second time. You write it this time as an autobiography7.
You write it in the first person. Do you see what I mean?” She noddedslowly, impressed in spite of herself.
“You can’t think of yourself as Olive Betterton until you are Olive Better-ton. It would be better if you had time to learn it up, but we can’t affordtime. So I’ve got to cram8 you. Cram you like a schoolboy—like a studentwho is going in for an important examination.” He added, “You’ve got aquick brain and a good memory, thank the Lord.”
He looked at her in cool appraisement9.
The passport descriptions of Olive Betterton and Hilary Craven were al-most identical, but actually the two faces were entirely10 different. OliveBetterton had had a quality of rather commonplace and insignificant11 pret-tiness. She had looked obstinate12 but not intelligent. Hilary’s face hadpower and an intriguing13 quality. The deep-set bluish-green eyes underdark level brows had fire and intelligence in their depths. Her mouthcurved upwards14 in a wide and generous line. The plane of the jaw15 was un-usual—a sculptor16 would have found the angles of the face interesting.
Jessop thought: “There’s passion there — and guts17 — and somewhere,damped but not quenched18, there’s a gay spirit that’s tough—and that en-joys life and searches out for adventure.”
“You’ll do,” he said to her. “You’re an apt pupil.”
This challenge to her intellect and her memory had stimulated19 Hilary.
She was becoming interested now, keen to achieve success. Once or twiceobjections occurred to her. She voiced them to Jessop.
“You say that I shan’t be rejected as Olive Betterton. You say that theywon’t know what she looks like, except in general detail. But how sure canyou be of that?”
Jessop shrugged20 his shoulders.
“One can’t be sure — of anything. But we do know a certain amountabout the set- up of these shows, and it does seem that internationallythere is very little communication from one country to another. Actually,that’s a great advantage to them. If we come upon a weak link in England(and, mind you, in every organization there always will be a weak link)that weak link in the chain knows nothing about what’s going on inFrance, or Italy, or Germany, or wherever you like, we are brought upshort by a blank wall. They know their own little part of the whole—nomore. The same applies the opposite way round. I dare swear that all thecell operating here knows is that Olive Betterton will arrive on such andsuch a plane and is to be given such and such instructions. You see, it’s notas though she were important in herself. If they’re bringing her to her hus-band, it’s because her husband wants her brought to him and becausethey think they’ll get better work out of him if she joins him. She herself isa mere21 pawn22 in the game. You must remember too, that the idea of substi-tuting a false Olive Betterton is definitely a spur of the moment improvisa-tion—occasioned by the plane accident and the colour of your hair. Ourplan of operation was to keep tabs on Olive Betterton and find out whereshe went, how she went, whom she met—and so on. That’s what the otherside will be on the lookout23 for.”
Hilary asked:
“Haven’t you tried all that before?”
“Yes. It was tried in Switzerland. Very unobtrusively. And it failed as faras our main objective was concerned. If anyone contacted her there wedidn’t know about it. So the contact must have been very brief. Naturallythey’ll expect that someone will be keeping tabs on Olive Betterton. They’llbe prepared for that. It’s up to us to do our job more thoroughly24 than lasttime. We’ve got to try and be rather more cunning than our adversaries25.”
“So you’ll be keeping tabs on me?”
“Of course.”
“How?”
He shook his head.
“I shan’t tell you that. Much better for you not to know. What you don’tknow you can’t give away.”
“Do you think I would give it away?”
Jessop put on his owl-like expression again.
“I don’t know how good an actress you are—how good a liar26. It’s noteasy, you know. It’s not a question of saying anything indiscreet. It can beanything, a sudden intake27 of the breath, the momentary28 pause in some ac-tion—lighting a cigarette, for instance. Recognition of a name or a friend.
You could cover it up quickly, but just a flash might be enough!”
“I see. It means—being on your guard for every single split second.”
“Exactly. In the meantime, on with the lessons! Quite like going back toschool, isn’t it? You’re pretty well word perfect on Olive Betterton, now.
Let’s go on to the other.”
Codes, responses, various properties. The lesson went on; the question-ing, the repetition, the endeavour to confuse her, to trip her up; then hypo-thetical schemes and her own reactions to them. In the end, Jessop noddedhis head and declared himself satisfied.
“You’ll do,” he said. He patted her on the shoulder in an avuncular29 man-ner. “You’re an apt pupil. And remember this, however much you mayfeel at times that you’re all alone in this, you’re probably not. I say prob-ably—I won’t put it higher than that. These are clever devils.”
“What happens,” said Hilary, “if I reach journey’s end?”
“You mean?”
“I mean when at last I come face to face with Tom Betterton.”
Jessop nodded grimly.
“Yes,” he said. “That’s the danger moment. I can only say that at thatmoment, if all has gone well, you should have protection. If, that is to say,things have gone as we hope; but the very basis of this operation, as youmay remember, was that there wasn’t a very high chance of survival.”
“Didn’t you say one in a hundred?” said Hilary drily.
“I think we can shorten the odds30 a little. I didn’t know what you werelike.”
“No, I suppose not.” She was thoughtful. “To you, I suppose, I was just.
.?.?.”
He finished the sentence for her. “A woman with a noticeable head ofred hair and who hadn’t the pluck to go on living.”
She flushed.
“That’s a harsh judgement.”
“It’s a true one, isn’t it? I don’t go in for being sorry for people. For onething it’s insulting. One is only sorry for people when they’re sorry forthemselves. Self pity is one of the biggest stumbling-blocks in the worldtoday.”
Hilary said thoughtfully:
“I think perhaps you’re right. Will you permit yourself to be sorry forme when I’ve been liquidated31 or whatever the term is, in fulfilling thismission?”
“Sorry for you? No. I shall curse like hell because we’ve lost someonewho’s worthwhile taking a bit of trouble over.”
“A compliment at last.” In spite of herself she was pleased.
She went on in a practical tone:
“There’s just one other thing that occurred to me. You say nobody’slikely to know what Olive Betterton looks like, but what about being recog-nized as myself? I don’t know anyone in Casablanca, but there are thepeople who travelled here with me in the plane. Or one may of course runacross somebody one knows among the tourists here.”
“You needn’t worry about the passengers in the plane. The people whoflew with you from Paris were businessmen who went on to Dakar and aman who got off here who has since flown back to Paris. You will go to adifferent hotel when you leave here, the hotel for which Mrs. Bettertonhad reservations. You will be wearing her clothes and her style ofhairdressing and one or two strips of plaster at the sides of your face willmake you look very different in feature. We’ve got a doctor coming towork upon you, by the way. Local an?sthetic, so it won’t hurt, but you willhave to have a few genuine marks of the accident.”
“You’re very thorough,” said Hilary.
“Have to be.”
“You’ve never asked me,” said Hilary, “whether Olive Betterton told meanything before she died.”
“I understood you had scruples32.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not at all. I respect you for them. I’d like to indulge in them myself—but they’re not in the schedule.”
“She did say something that perhaps I ought to tell you. She said ‘Tellhim’—Betterton, that is—‘tell him to be careful—Boris—dangerous—’ ”
“Boris.” Jessop repeated the name with interest. “Ah! Our correct for-eign Major Boris Glydr.”
“You know him? Who is he?”
“A Pole. He came to see me in London. He’s supposed to be a cousin bymarriage of Tom Betterton.”
“Supposed?”
“Let us say, more correctly, that if he is who he says he is, he is a cousinof the late Mrs. Betterton. But we’ve only his word for it.”
“She was frightened,” said Hilary, frowning. “Can you describe him? I’dlike to be able to recognize him.”
“Yes. It might be as well. Six feet. Weight roughly, 160 pounds. Fair—rather wooden poker33 face—light eyes—foreign stilted34 manner—Englishvery correct, but a pronounced accent, stiff military bearing.”
He added:
“I had him tailed when he left my office. Nothing doing. He wentstraight to the U.S. Embassy—quite correctly—he’d brought me an intro-ductory letter from there. The usual kind they send out when they want tobe polite but non-committal. I presume he left the Embassy either in some-body’s car or by the back entrance disguised as a footman or something.
Anyway he evaded35 us. Yes—I should say that Olive Betterton was perhapsright when she said that Boris Glydr was dangerous.”
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收听单词发音
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1
strenuous
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| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
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physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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immured
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| v.禁闭，监禁( immure的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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predilections
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| n.偏爱，偏好，嗜好( predilection的名词复数 ) | |
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marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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6
authentic
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| a.真的，真正的；可靠的，可信的，有根据的 | |
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7
autobiography
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| n.自传 | |
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8
cram
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| v.填塞，塞满，临时抱佛脚，为考试而学习 | |
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9
appraisement
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| n.评价，估价；估值 | |
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10
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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13
intriguing
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| adj.有趣的；迷人的v.搞阴谋诡计(intrigue的现在分词)；激起…的好奇心 | |
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14
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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15
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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16
sculptor
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| n.雕刻家，雕刻家 | |
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17
guts
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| v.狼吞虎咽，贪婪地吃，飞碟游戏（比赛双方每组5人，相距15码，互相掷接飞碟）；毁坏（建筑物等）的内部( gut的第三人称单数 )；取出…的内脏n.勇气( gut的名词复数 )；内脏；消化道的下段；肠 | |
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quenched
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| 解（渴）( quench的过去式和过去分词 )； 终止（某事物）； （用水）扑灭（火焰等）； 将（热物体）放入水中急速冷却 | |
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stimulated
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| a.刺激的 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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pawn
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| n.典当，抵押，小人物，走卒；v.典当，抵押 | |
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lookout
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| n.注意，前途，瞭望台 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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25
adversaries
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| n.对手，敌手( adversary的名词复数 ) | |
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26
liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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intake
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| n.吸入，纳入；进气口，入口 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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avuncular
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| adj.叔伯般的，慈祥的 | |
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30
odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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31
liquidated
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| v.清算( liquidate的过去式和过去分词 )；清除（某人）；清偿；变卖 | |
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32
scruples
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| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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33
poker
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| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
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34
stilted
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| adj.虚饰的；夸张的 | |
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35
evaded
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| 逃避( evade的过去式和过去分词 )； 避开； 回避； 想不出 | |
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