highly respectable here. Can’t imagine you’ve come to the right place.”
“This is the house, all right.”
“You followed someone here? Well, that’s different.” The deep-set eyes were inscrutable now. The man, concentrating on his glass of tea, seemed lost in his thoughts, too. But they wouldhave surprised his amiable host. Hurry up and get to the point, the man was thinking: the boss told me you were a curious chap. What’s happened to your curiosity all of a sudden?”
“Do you know the people here well?” the man asked at last.
“I’m getting to know them and their visitors now. Took a week or two to remember them by name.” Henryk’s voice was casual, almost diffident.
“Any strangers recently?”
“A girl. Came late last night, too. She’s a guest of Korytowski’s. Say, there’s nothing wrong up there, is there?”
“Korytowski’s all right. Just another dopey professor as far as I know.”
“But the girl is a friend of the family. My wife was told that today.”
“He thinks she is. What do you think of her?”
“Looked good to me.” Henryk outlined a curve in the air with his two hands, and laughed with the other man.
“Would you say she was English? Have you heard her talk?”
“She’s a foreigner for certain. Might be English.”
“She didn’t seem German?”
Henryk was impassive. Except for the slight pause there was nothing to show that the question had startled him.
“No. Didn’t get that impression. In fact, I was out with Madame Sarna’s dog today—she’s the singer, third floor over there to your right—” he pointed into the dark courtyard—“and this girl appeared. She didn’t know much Polish, it seemed. Just stared at me when I wished her good day, and then said something which sounded like French to me. I wouldn’t know. I remember thinking her legs looked kind of French. What made you think she was German?”
The unobtrusive man lowered his voice still more. “I don’t get told much. Do this, do that. And no explanations before or after, see? But today the hunt is on for a German spy. Hofmeyer’s the name. And she’s a pal of his. That’s all I know. It isn’t much, but it’s enough when you’re dealing with Germans.”
“And Korytowski doesn’t know? Why, his house is always filled with good patriots!”
“And that’s it. Who would suspect her if she were there? She’s a clever one.”
“Aye,” Henryk said. He moved his stiff leg. “Wound from the last war,” he explained. His guest had no objections to changing the conversation, now. They talked of the old days.
Henryk turned the radio louder. “Soon be morning,” he said cheerfully.
“I’ll take a turn on the pavement and let you have a nap.”
“Don’t feel like sleeping. I’ll get some in the afternoon when the wife’s on duty.” His hand played nervously with the radio’s station-finder.
Footsteps running through the courtyard caught their attention. It was the American. He gave them a nod as he clanged the gate after him.
“An American,” Henryk explained. “Friend of Korytowski’s. Always in a hurry, coming or going.”
Silence filled the courtyard once more. Only the radio voice was speaking. There was a sudden pause, a sudden rush of words. “ Less than an hour ago, German planes bombed Polish territory. Without any declaration of war... ”
The two men stared at each other, and then Henryk rose quickly to his feet.
“Elzbieta, Elzbieta!” he was shouting into the bedroom.“Wake up, woman, wake up. It’s started!”
The quiet man sat stiffly in his chair. “Dog’s blood,” he swore, “dog’s blood and dog’s bones.” He didn’t look at the staring-eyed woman, her straight hair stiff in thin pigtails, who clutched round her throat the shabby coat which she had thrown over the shoulders of her nightgown. Together with her husband, she bent over the radio to catch the uneven words. Henryk’s hands trembled. He wiped his mouth and the
“This is the house, all right.”
“You followed someone here? Well, that’s different.” The deep-set eyes were inscrutable now. The man, concentrating on his glass of tea, seemed lost in his thoughts, too. But they wouldhave surprised his amiable host. Hurry up and get to the point, the man was thinking: the boss told me you were a curious chap. What’s happened to your curiosity all of a sudden?”
“Do you know the people here well?” the man asked at last.
“I’m getting to know them and their visitors now. Took a week or two to remember them by name.” Henryk’s voice was casual, almost diffident.
“Any strangers recently?”
“A girl. Came late last night, too. She’s a guest of Korytowski’s. Say, there’s nothing wrong up there, is there?”
“Korytowski’s all right. Just another dopey professor as far as I know.”
“But the girl is a friend of the family. My wife was told that today.”
“He thinks she is. What do you think of her?”
“Looked good to me.” Henryk outlined a curve in the air with his two hands, and laughed with the other man.
“Would you say she was English? Have you heard her talk?”
“She’s a foreigner for certain. Might be English.”
“She didn’t seem German?”
Henryk was impassive. Except for the slight pause there was nothing to show that the question had startled him.
“No. Didn’t get that impression. In fact, I was out with Madame Sarna’s dog today—she’s the singer, third floor over there to your right—” he pointed into the dark courtyard—“and this girl appeared. She didn’t know much Polish, it seemed. Just stared at me when I wished her good day, and then said something which sounded like French to me. I wouldn’t know. I remember thinking her legs looked kind of French. What made you think she was German?”
The unobtrusive man lowered his voice still more. “I don’t get told much. Do this, do that. And no explanations before or after, see? But today the hunt is on for a German spy. Hofmeyer’s the name. And she’s a pal of his. That’s all I know. It isn’t much, but it’s enough when you’re dealing with Germans.”
“And Korytowski doesn’t know? Why, his house is always filled with good patriots!”
“And that’s it. Who would suspect her if she were there? She’s a clever one.”
“Aye,” Henryk said. He moved his stiff leg. “Wound from the last war,” he explained. His guest had no objections to changing the conversation, now. They talked of the old days.
Henryk turned the radio louder. “Soon be morning,” he said cheerfully.
“I’ll take a turn on the pavement and let you have a nap.”
“Don’t feel like sleeping. I’ll get some in the afternoon when the wife’s on duty.” His hand played nervously with the radio’s station-finder.
Footsteps running through the courtyard caught their attention. It was the American. He gave them a nod as he clanged the gate after him.
“An American,” Henryk explained. “Friend of Korytowski’s. Always in a hurry, coming or going.”
Silence filled the courtyard once more. Only the radio voice was speaking. There was a sudden pause, a sudden rush of words. “ Less than an hour ago, German planes bombed Polish territory. Without any declaration of war... ”
The two men stared at each other, and then Henryk rose quickly to his feet.
“Elzbieta, Elzbieta!” he was shouting into the bedroom.“Wake up, woman, wake up. It’s started!”
The quiet man sat stiffly in his chair. “Dog’s blood,” he swore, “dog’s blood and dog’s bones.” He didn’t look at the staring-eyed woman, her straight hair stiff in thin pigtails, who clutched round her throat the shabby coat which she had thrown over the shoulders of her nightgown. Together with her husband, she bent over the radio to catch the uneven words. Henryk’s hands trembled. He wiped his mouth and the
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