Pursuit of Passy

by David Moore Crook

  ******

  A little later d'Angelay slipped into the room and started to remove the bandages from my head. He grinned cheerfully as my face appeared.

  “Well,” he said, “I thought for one moment that we had lost, but we just managed to stop him in time.”

  “Just is the word,” I said. “I was almost paralytic with fright inside those blasted bandages. By the way, who was the man by the door?”

  “That was Colonel Ravel, the Commandant.”

  “Does he know who I am?”

  “Only two people in the hospital know—Madame Berger and myself. It would be dangerous to tell anybody else.”

  “And how did Carnac get on?”

  “He slipped into the operating theatre when the Boche arrived and hung round as though he were an orderly. You'd never have recognised him yourself in overalls and mask.”

  “And what happens next time the Hun comes round?” I asked. “How will you get over that one?”

  “I've been thinking about that,” said the doctor. His eyes twinkled. “It looks as if you'll have to die before then and I shall show the Boche your body to satisfy him.”

  “Excellent scheme,” I said. “Is there anything I could do to survive my death, so to speak? I'd rather do that if it's not too much trouble.”

  “No trouble. I'm afraid we have a good supply of bodies here; some of these poor devils are badly wounded and they are dying like flies. We can easily produce a corpse for the Boche and if we don't even know its identity then he certainly won't either.”

  “And the burns?”

  “I'll arrange that too,” he replied calmly. “And now, please excuse me. I'm giving anaesthetics in the theatre all afternoon.”

  After he had gone I sat up in bed and stared moodily out of the window, wondering how on earth I was to keep the rendezvous with Giselle. It wasn't going to be easy with the search for us still in progress and I was still trying to puzzle it out, thinking of one desperate scheme after another and rejecting them immediately as being completely impracticable, when I heard a noise about my head. I looked up and saw a man's face peering down at me through the skylight in the roof.

  He put his finger to his lips and then signalled me to open the skylight.

  I listened carefully but all seemed quiet in the corridor outside and so I pushed my bed across the little room and by standing on it I just reached the skylight and unfastened it, though my bruised back and shoulders throbbed abominably in the process.

  The man put his head down through the hole and whispered in French.

  “Are you by yourself?”

  “Yes, it's all right. Do you want to come down?”

  “Yes, please.” He lowered himself awkwardly through the roof and I saw that his left arm was in a sling. I steadied him as best I could and he dropped lightly on to the bed.

  We looked at each other. He was a sunburnt, hard-bitten looking man, tall, broad-shouldered and vigorous and, I should imagine, very quick tempered. His eyes were blue and steely and he spoke in a jerky yet decisive manner. His shirt and trousers were torn and filthy and with his unshaven chin and tousled black hair he looked as though he'd been roughing it for some time.

  “Well?” he said brusquely, “and who are you?”

  But I had spotted the accent. I held out my hand. “It's all right,” I said, “I'm English too.”

  He stared at me for a moment, then laughed and shook my hand.

  “Damn!” he said. “Am I as obvious as all that? Thought I made a pretty good Frenchman. Anyway, my name is Dalkeith, Major Dalkeith. I'm in the Gordons—or was.”

  “My name's Claydon. I was in the R.A.F. once upon a time, about a week ago. Anyway, is there anything I can do for you? Presumably you're trying to get home.”

  “Correct,” he said. “I was pinched with the 51st at St. Valery and they shipped us off to Germany, but I got away one night and now I'm making for the Swiss frontier. Worst of it is I hurt my bloody arm but I managed to get here and some French people hid me for a few days. Damn good people they were too, but unfortunately somebody killed a few Hun soldiers in Laon the other day and they've been going out again p.d.q. I came here and got my arm seen to by some French doctor. He kept me in his room, but today the Hun turned up again and I had to get out on the roof and hide in a water tank. Pretty close thing it was, too.”

  “What made you come down this way?”

  “Had to,” he replied. “I got up through a trap door but when it came to crawling back again the damned thing was fast so I crawled round till I found this skylight. Lucky chance I hit on you, eh? Anyway, has the Hun gone now?”

  “I think so. They've been in here so probably they won't come back again for a bit.”

  “Were they, by God.” He stared at me. “How did you shake 'em off?”

  “I was bandaged up to the eyes. They were pretty suspicious, all the same.”

  “No doubt,” he said. “It seems to me this place is getting too hot. How about joining forces with me and making for the frontier tonight? I've got a little money and two heads are better than one. Are you game?”

  I hesitated a moment. It was difficult to refuse without giving something away. “I'm afraid I can't do much at the moment,” I said slowly. “I've got some sort of poisoning in my innards and I'd soon pack up if I did anything very active. You'd find it much better on your own.”

  He stared at me without replying, probably thinking that I looked fit enough for anything and was just making excuses.

  “In that case I'll leave it for a couple of days,” he said at length. “You'll be fit then and probably my arm will be less of a handicap and we—” he broke off abruptly as the door opened and Carnac slipped in quietly. He was still dressed in a white overall and he looked in surprise at Dalkeith who returned his glance with a stony glare.

  “Hullo, Charles,” I said. “Let me introduce Major Dalkeith—Captain Carnac.” The two men shook hands.

  “Dalkeith has just been playing hide and seek on the roof with the Huns, and he arrived through my skylight.”

  Carnac laughed. “Bien,” he said. “The Boches might have made a good haul this morning if they'd looked more carefully. At any rate they've gone now, so we are safe again for a little while.”

  Dalkeith smiled again. “So you're another one,” he remarked. “Excuse my being so suspicious but being continually on the run like this gets me down after a time. I don't even trust myself now.”

  “I know,” said Carnac. “My friend Claydon and I have had our share of being hunted in the last few days and it's not at all pleasant.”

  “Well,” said Dalkeith, “I'm starting for the Swiss frontier as soon as my arm is better and I've been trying to get Claydon to join me. Are you interested?”

  Carnac glanced at me.

  “I'm afraid, m'sieu, that Claydon and I must stay here a little longer. We have to see somebody before we can go.”

  “Oh,” said Dalkeith slowly. “I don't really see that—” he checked himself and resumed after a slight pause. “Well, in that case, we'll leave it for a few days. I'll slip along occasionally when the coast is clear and keep in touch with you. Now, do you think it's safe for me to go back to my room?”

  “I think so,” said Carnac, “but perhaps it would be better if I walk back with you. I can pass as a hospital orderly, you see.”

  “Good,” said Dalkeith. He nodded coolly at me and they went out.

  I was rather amused by the gallant major. He was obviously a keen type himself and didn't trouble to disguise his opinion that it was my duty to escape at the first possible opportunity and that I was shirking it at the moment. It had done me good to see him, though; the sound of an English voice was pleasant indeed after all this time. “All this time,” I said to myself and smiled. Four days ago I was at Northolt. But it seemed like four years.

  Carnac came in again. He smiled at me, cheerfully, fished a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket, tossed one across to me, lit one himself, an
d then sat down on my bed.

  He seemed in excellent spirits again and hummed a little tune to himself.

  “Well, Peter,” he said, “I really begin to think that le bon Dieu looks after us personally.”

  “It looks like it sometimes,” I said. “And yet in another way I feel that everything has gone wrong.”

  Carnac blew two perfect smoke rings and gazed at them critically.

  “No, I don't think so,” he replied slowly. “We have been here only two days and we had very bad luck over that canaille Mendel, but if we can meet Mlle. Saint Brie I think she may succeed where we failed. It's a new idea, anyway, and a new way of approaching the problem.”

  “That reminds me. How am I going to get out of the hospital to meet her? It won't be very easy.”

  “Au contraire,” said Carnac. “I've arranged it all with the doctor. You are going to fetch her in an ambulance.”