“The old man was like that,” admitted Julius. “But I guess the new
generation’s sort of different. Got no use for the family feud business. First
thing I thought about, soon as the war was over, was to come along and hunt you
up.”
A shadow passed over the girl’s face.
“They’ve been telling me things–dreadful things–that my memory went, and
that there are years I shall never know about–years lost out of my life.”
“You didn’t realize that yourself?”
The girl’s eyes opened wide.
“Why, no. It seems to me as though it were no time since we were being
hustled into those boats. I can see it all now.” She closed her eyes with a
shudder.
Julius looked across at Sir James, who nodded.
“Don’t worry any. It isn’t worth it. Now, see here, Jane, there’s
something we want to know about. There was a man aboard that boat with some
mighty important papers on him, and the big guns in this country have got a
notion that he passed on the goods to you. Is that so?”
The girl hesitated, her glance shifting to the other two. Julius
understood.
“Mr. Beresford is commissioned by the British Government to get those
papers back. Sir James Peel Edgerton is an English Member of Parliament, and
might be a big gun in the Cabinet if he liked. It’s owing to him that we’ve
ferreted you out at last. So you can go right ahead and tell us the whole story.
Did Danvers give you the papers?”
“Yes. He said they’d have a better chance with me, because they would save
the women and children first.”
“Just as we thought,” said Sir James.
“He said they were very important–that they might make all the difference
to the Allies. But, if it’s all so long ago, and the war’s over, what does it
matter now?”
“I guess history repeats itself, Jane. First there was a great hue and cry
over those papers, then it all died down, and now the whole caboodle’s started
all over again–for rather different reasons. Then you can hand them over to us
right away?”
“But I can’t.”
“What?”
“I haven’t got them.”
“You–haven’t–got them?” Julius punctuated the words with little pauses.
“No–I hid them.”
“You hid them?”
“Yes. I got uneasy. People seemed to be watching me. It scared
me–badly.” She put her hand to her head. “It’s almost the last thing I
remember before waking up in the hospital….”
“Go on,” said Sir James, in his quiet penetrating tones. “What do you
remember?”
She turned to him obediently.
“It was at Holyhead. I came that way–I don’t remember why….”
“That doesn’t matter. Go on.”
“In the confusion on the quay I slipped away. Nobody saw me. I took a car.
Told the man to drive me out of the town. I watched when we got on the open
road. No other car was following us. I saw a path at the side of the road. I
told the man to wait.”
She paused, then went on. “The path led to the cliff, and down to the sea
between big yellow gorse bushes–they were like golden flames. I looked round.
There wasn’t a soul in sight. But just level with my head there was a hole in
the rock. It was quite small–I could only just get my hand in, but it went a
long way back. I took the oilskin packet from round my neck and shoved it right
in as far as I could. Then I tore off a bit of gorse–My! but it did prick–and
plugged the hole with it so that you’d never guess there was a crevice of any
kind there. Then I marked the place carefully in my own mind, so that I’d find
it again. There was a queer boulder in the path just there–for all the world
like a dog sitting up begging. Then I went back to the road. The car was
waiting, and I drove back. I just caught the train. I was a bit ashamed of
myself for fancying things maybe, but, by and by, I saw the man opposite me wink
at a woman who was sitting next to me, and I felt scared again, and was glad the