have neither government money nor a diplomatic pouch—at present, anyway.”
“Yes,” Denning admitted again. “It could be that. Or it could be—” He hesitated.
Keppler said, “Or it could be what our faceless enemy wants us to believe?” He shrugged his shoulders. “Clever if true. Until now—as far as I’m concerned—this faceless enemy has made only one mistake: he has chosen to smuggle the Herz diamonds through Switzerland. My neutrality is not unlimited when I see a conspiracy directed against other people’s innocence.”
“But aren’t we conspirators, too?” Le Brun said. “Who are we to judge men doing the same kind of work as our own?” He looked at the Swiss and the American, thinking sadly that simple people found simple judgments.
“I must have expressed myself badly,” Keppler said very quietly. “But as far as I know, my country is not conspiring to destroy the freedom of any innocent person. My work has never sunk so low as that.”
“Now you misunderstand me,” Le Brun said quietly. “What I intended to imply was—”
The harsh purr of the telephone cut him short. Le Brun stretched out his hand, then stopped. With grave politeness,he stood aside to let Keppler answer the call. Denning too had risen to his feet.
“I see,” Keppler was saying quietly in English, “I see.” But there was a look of bewilderment on his face, immediately followed by anxiety. “One moment.” He covered the mouthpiece with his hand, turning to the others. “It’s Meyer. At the Café Henzi. The informant has not turned up. Neither has Taylor.”
Then Meyer’s alone over there, alone, Denning thought; and the cold feeling of alarm gripped him. Le Brun was looking shocked—perhaps Meyer’s ’phone call was too unorthodox.
Keppler held out the telephone. “Talk to him about Maartens,” he said to Denning. “Find out if your suspicions are ridiculous or not.”
Denning looked at Le Brun’s startled eyes, then at Keppler’s frown. He took the receiver. He said, “Hallo, there! So the girl-friend didn’t turn up?… Well, come out to my house and have a drink.”
Max laughed. “I’ll give her another ten minutes, if the waiters don’t sweep me into the streets. You know women.” He sounded worried, though, in spite of his amusement.
“Yes, I know Shorty.”
There was a pause. “And when did you see Shorty?”
“We arrived together at the Aarhof.”
“That’s funny,” Max said. Then he altered it a little. “That’s quite a joke. On me.”
“Very smartly turned out,” Denning went on.
“Très snob, très chic again?”
“And tout a fait cad this time. It’s the money that does it. I’d say the suit cost at least a couple of hundred dollars. Noimitations for Shorty today.”
“This gets funnier and funnier,” Max said. “Hilarious. Are you sure it was Shorty?”
“Two inches under medium height and twenty pounds overweight. Wrinkles round the eyes, skin too sallow, not a grey hair showing. Pity about the snub nose, but that’s your taste, isn’t it?”
“That’s my Shorty,” Meyer said, laughing again.
“What I really admired was the neat little hands,” Denning went on. “Neat little hands to match neat little feet.”
“Be serious!”
“I don’t sound serious?”
“Not to me,” Meyer said grimly.
“Okay, okay,” said Denning. “I get you. I’ll never laugh at Shorty again.”
“Don’t!” Meyer said warningly. “Have a good vacation.” And he hung up.
Denning turned to face Le Brun and Keppler.
“Well?” Keppler asked.
“The man at the Aarhof isn’t Maartens. There’s one thing that can’t be disguised, and that’s small hands and feet.”
“I think,” Keppler said slowly, his face so serious now that Denning’s feeling of small triumph turned into something very close to fear, “I think I shall have Mr. Maartens detained for questioning about his passport.” He picked up the telephone again.
“I hope,” Le
“Yes,” Denning admitted again. “It could be that. Or it could be—” He hesitated.
Keppler said, “Or it could be what our faceless enemy wants us to believe?” He shrugged his shoulders. “Clever if true. Until now—as far as I’m concerned—this faceless enemy has made only one mistake: he has chosen to smuggle the Herz diamonds through Switzerland. My neutrality is not unlimited when I see a conspiracy directed against other people’s innocence.”
“But aren’t we conspirators, too?” Le Brun said. “Who are we to judge men doing the same kind of work as our own?” He looked at the Swiss and the American, thinking sadly that simple people found simple judgments.
“I must have expressed myself badly,” Keppler said very quietly. “But as far as I know, my country is not conspiring to destroy the freedom of any innocent person. My work has never sunk so low as that.”
“Now you misunderstand me,” Le Brun said quietly. “What I intended to imply was—”
The harsh purr of the telephone cut him short. Le Brun stretched out his hand, then stopped. With grave politeness,he stood aside to let Keppler answer the call. Denning too had risen to his feet.
“I see,” Keppler was saying quietly in English, “I see.” But there was a look of bewilderment on his face, immediately followed by anxiety. “One moment.” He covered the mouthpiece with his hand, turning to the others. “It’s Meyer. At the Café Henzi. The informant has not turned up. Neither has Taylor.”
Then Meyer’s alone over there, alone, Denning thought; and the cold feeling of alarm gripped him. Le Brun was looking shocked—perhaps Meyer’s ’phone call was too unorthodox.
Keppler held out the telephone. “Talk to him about Maartens,” he said to Denning. “Find out if your suspicions are ridiculous or not.”
Denning looked at Le Brun’s startled eyes, then at Keppler’s frown. He took the receiver. He said, “Hallo, there! So the girl-friend didn’t turn up?… Well, come out to my house and have a drink.”
Max laughed. “I’ll give her another ten minutes, if the waiters don’t sweep me into the streets. You know women.” He sounded worried, though, in spite of his amusement.
“Yes, I know Shorty.”
There was a pause. “And when did you see Shorty?”
“We arrived together at the Aarhof.”
“That’s funny,” Max said. Then he altered it a little. “That’s quite a joke. On me.”
“Very smartly turned out,” Denning went on.
“Très snob, très chic again?”
“And tout a fait cad this time. It’s the money that does it. I’d say the suit cost at least a couple of hundred dollars. Noimitations for Shorty today.”
“This gets funnier and funnier,” Max said. “Hilarious. Are you sure it was Shorty?”
“Two inches under medium height and twenty pounds overweight. Wrinkles round the eyes, skin too sallow, not a grey hair showing. Pity about the snub nose, but that’s your taste, isn’t it?”
“That’s my Shorty,” Meyer said, laughing again.
“What I really admired was the neat little hands,” Denning went on. “Neat little hands to match neat little feet.”
“Be serious!”
“I don’t sound serious?”
“Not to me,” Meyer said grimly.
“Okay, okay,” said Denning. “I get you. I’ll never laugh at Shorty again.”
“Don’t!” Meyer said warningly. “Have a good vacation.” And he hung up.
Denning turned to face Le Brun and Keppler.
“Well?” Keppler asked.
“The man at the Aarhof isn’t Maartens. There’s one thing that can’t be disguised, and that’s small hands and feet.”
“I think,” Keppler said slowly, his face so serious now that Denning’s feeling of small triumph turned into something very close to fear, “I think I shall have Mr. Maartens detained for questioning about his passport.” He picked up the telephone again.
“I hope,” Le
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