******
That evening I sat wearily in the Group Captain's office in Whitehall.
He had been very pleased to see me and to hear the news about Passy, but seemed to take it all very much as a matter of course, an attitude which rather nettled me at the time but which I can understand now. It was all in the day's work for him.
“Don't worry too much about Carnac,” he was saying, “I know a few things about the gallant captain and you can take it from me that he's very capable of looking after himself. He's got a much better chance with you two off his hands. In my opinion you did the right thing and it was the only way to save the girl.”
I was very glad to hear it. The thought that we'd got away safely and left him behind was beginning to haunt me already. I knew I'd never be really happy again till I heard of him.
Leighton went on, “I’m glad to hear our little suggestion did the trick. After you left for France we continued to rake up everything we could find about Passy and we'd got most of these particulars already, but as soon as Major Dalkeith arrived with your message I went round myself to see both the French Ambassador and a member of de Gaulle's staff. They both agreed that it seemed the only way to force Passy back, but we found it very difficult to phrase the message without giving it away to the wily Hun. Apparently we succeeded.” He laughed quietly. “I'd like to see their faces when they find their prize quisling has been disposed of right under their noses. There'll be a terrific enquiry into it, and a hell of a row for somebody.”
He lingered for a moment over this pleasing thought, then went on. “And this Capitaine d'Angelay—he sounds to have been a gallant fellow. Damn bad luck that, being killed by a stray shot. Its men like that who restore my faith in France and her greatness.”
There was another pause. I was still curious. “May I ask one question, sir?”
“You can always ask,” said Leighton drily.
“It's this, sir. What was behind that reference to Belfort in 1933 that made Passy come back to Laon?”
“Oh, I can tell you that all right. Go back a few years, —do you remember a big spy trial at Nancy and Belfort in 1933?”
I had a hazy recollection of reading it in the papers and nodded.
“Well, the details don't matter much, but briefly this is what happened. The Germans were just starting to get very interested in the Maginot Line and they had a number of agents at Strasbourg, Nancy, Belfort and other places. One of these men, an N.C.O. in a French artillery regiment, was an Alsatian called Fuchs. He seems to have been an unpleasant bit of work and he lived with a very dubious woman in Belfort. Passy happened to be working in Belfort at the time and he met this girl friend and fell for her; you know the type he was. I don't know all the details, but apparently Fuchs did a bit of talking across the pillow and Yvonne (or whatever her name was) had a pretty shrewd idea of his game. In some way or other Passy wormed the information out of her and of course saw immediately that here was a cast-iron method of getting rid of his rival, so he denounced Fuchs to the authorities. They arrested him and got him talking quite a lot and in the end they roped in most of the bunch. There was a big court martial and they all got very stiff sentences.
“Passy’s name never leaked out at all; he remained an anonymous informer and only the Deuxième Bureau people knew his name, so you can imagine what a shock it must have been years later when somebody threatens to denounce him to the Boche as the man who gave away their spy ring in Belfort. They'd have pretended now to disregard it, but he knew his Boche pretty well and realised that when the day came that he was no further use to them they would take their revenge in no uncertain fashion. So you see, he really had to do something to stop it.”
Leighton went on, “One more thing—you'll see a bit in the papers about your flight to England. It won't be strictly true, but it may serve to fox the Hun about the identity of the people involved. You don't want this held up against you if ever you become prisoner of war.”
At length I rose to go. Leighton shook hands with me. “Back to the squadron, I suppose? Well, you will probably find it pleasanter work than you've been doing recently, even if—” he smiled faintly—
“there isn't the same feminine interest in it. You've helped to do a useful job of work and we have got rid of a very dangerous traitor. I'll let you know if I pick up anything about Carnac. Goodbye and good luck.”
Pursuit of Passy Page 41
