II
Tommy was establishing the happiest of relationships with MajorBletchley.
“Brought down some golf clubs with you, didn’t you, Meadowes?”
Tommy pleaded guilty.
“Ha! I can tell you, my eyes don’t miss much. Splendid. We must have agame together. Ever played on the links here?”
Tommy replied in the negative.
“They’re not bad — not bad at all. Bit on the short side, perhaps, butlovely view over the sea and all that. And never very crowded. Look here,what about coming along with me this morning? We might have a game.”
“Thanks very much. I’d like it.”
“Must say I’m glad you’ve arrived,” remarked Bletchley as they weretrudging up the hill. “Too many women in that place. Gets on one’s nerves.
Glad I’ve got another fellow to keep me in countenance¹. You can’t countCayley—the man’s a kind of walking chemist’s shop. Talks of nothing buthis health and the treatment he’s tried and the drugs he’s taking. If hethrew away all his little pillboxes and went out for a good ten-mile walkevery day he’d be a different man. The only other male in the place is vonDeinim, and to tell you the truth, Meadowes, I’m not too easy in my mindabout him.”
“No?” said Tommy.
“No. You take my word for it, this refugee business is dangerous. If I hadmy way I’d intern² the lot of them. Safety first.”
“A bit drastic, perhaps.”
“Not at all. War’s war. And I’ve got my suspicions of Master Carl. Forone thing he’s clearly not a Jew. Then he came over here just a month—only a month, mind you—before war broke out. That’s a bit suspicious.”
Tommy said invitingly³:
“Then you think—?”
“Spying—that’s his little game!”
“But surely there’s nothing of great military or naval⁴ importance here-abouts?”
“Ah, old man, that’s where the artfulness comes in! If he were anywherenear Plymouth or Portsmouth he’d be under supervision⁵. In a sleepy placelike this, nobody bothers. But it’s on the coast, isn’t it? The truth of it is theGovernment is a great deal too easy with these enemy aliens. Anyone whocared could come over here and pull a long face and talk about theirbrothers in concentration camps. Look at that young man—arrogance inevery line of him. He’s a

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