Cost Price by Dornford Yates Page A

him aside, and when he had passed round this, a torrent he could not ford would be barring his way: he would find a sudden valley which promised well, and after some weary miles would end in a cul de sac . And so, if the posts are well sited, though they stand some distance apart, it may be most hard to go by. Add to this that the guards know the line which the frontier takes and have their private viewpoints to which they send out patrols: though these are withdrawn at dusk, no man can cross by night, unless he has first made sure of his way by day.
    When we were at Salzburg, Mansel had purchased some excellent large-scale maps: and we passed our first morning at Wagensburg studying these. So we divided our frontier into three parts. And this we did with three pencils – red and blue and green. The red were the portions commanded by frontier-posts: the blue were the portions which were, on the face of it, hopeless, because of the opposition of monstrous heights: the green were the portions by which a way might be found.
    Our greatest hope was, of course, to strike some smugglers’ way.
    That afternoon Mansel wrote a letter for Diana to send to Friar, as well as a letter to Palin, which I will set out.
     
    Dear Palin,
    Please leave for London at once. When you are there, please leave at once for Trieste. There is a hotel at Trieste, called The Heart of Gold. A letter will go to you there, telling you what next to do. When you are in London, go to St James’s Street and buy the best mats of the Italo-Austrian frontier that you can buy. Study these carefully.
     
    Yours ever,
    Jonathan Mansel.
     
    PS. Say nothing to the Ferrers. Just go.
     
    When the light was failing, Carson left for Villach, taking the Rolls. He was to post the letters and to call at The Sickle, in case some letter or message was lying there. He was to be very careful in all he did. He was to leave the Rolls in a thicket without the town and to make his way in on foot, keeping, so far as he could, to the meaner ways.
    I confess that from ten o’clock on I could not keep my eyes from my watch, for Villach was not very far and if the Rolls had been taken, our cake was dough: but Mansel refused to worry, “for Carson,” he said, “will never walk into a trap.” Sure enough, soon after eleven, the Rolls stole into the yard, and two minutes later Carson made his report.
    This was significant.
    “I posted the letters, sir, but I couldn’t touch The Sickle: it’s practically cordoned off: there’s plain-clothes men all round it – I counted five. They’ve trestles across the roads in, and they’re stopping all cars.”
    Mansel looked very grave.
    “Where did you post the letters?”
    “At the post-office in the square, sir. I watched my chance.”
    “I’m sure you did. What I’m getting at is this. There’s a proper hotel in the square – I forget its name. Were there police about that?”
    “So far as I saw, sir, not one. I specially looked for them. Then there’s another hotel on the opposite side. I’ll swear there was no one there.”
    Mansel looked at me.
    “Who knew we were going to The Sickle?”
    “The Ferrers, Diana and Palin.”
    “Exactly. And when did they know?”
    “We told them,” I said, “after dinner on Monday night.”
    “And the Boche arrived two hours later. We said we were going on Thursday – and this is Thursday night. Who told the Boche we were going to The Sickle on Thursday?”
    “There’s only one answer,” I said.
    “I quite agree,” said Mansel. “But what a show! And that is the Boche all over. He deals himself a truly beautiful hand. But he doesn’t know how to play it. Diana Revoke is his agent. He puts her on to Friar, and she picks us up. Luck of the devil himself. We make her free of our plans and she passes them on. He saw her that night, of course, while we were abed. And then he strikes too soon – and ruins everything. If he’d held his hand…if he hadn’t struck tonight… Well,