It was still early so the Duke and Rex decided to turn in for an hour or two. Having carefully locked the door of the library behind them and removed the key so that the servants should not see or interfere with the pentacle, they went upstairs to their bedrooms.
In spite of his night’s activities, de Richleau did not feel the least bit tired; in fact he felt remarkably fresh, as his sleep from half-past ten until seven o’clock was much longer than that which he usually enjoyed and his tranquillity had not been disturbed by bombs or gunfire. Actually, he had not exerted himself during his astral journey to anything like the same extent as the Admiral, and the only difference between them was that de Richleau had the power to retain full and coherent memory of the things that he had seen and done, whereas the Admiral would wake after a good night’s rest remembering nothing of his night’s adventures or—at most—a muddled dream in which, perhaps, he had played tennis on his first ship and disported himself not altogether creditably with an oriental lady in the middle of a tennis-court. In the meantime, while they had been absent from their bodies their etheric bodies, which are exact replicas of each person’s physical form and remain with them always until death, had been recharged with vitality just as a battery is recharged, since it is to give opportunity for this absolutely essential operation that we sleep each night.
As the Eatons, and any guests who were staying with them, habitually breakfasted in bed, it was not until they were all gathered in the long drawing-room before lunch that the Duke regaled the others with an amusing account of the Admiral’s frolics of which he had been the unsuspected witness.
‘How livid the old boy would be if he knew that you had been snooping on him!’ laughed Marie Lou.
De Richleau smiled. ‘He is a very young soul, so I’m quite certain that he wouldn’t believe such a thing possible even if he were told about it.’
‘Anyhow, I suppose we can take it that his innocence is fully established?’ Richard remarked.
De Richleau shook his head. ‘We are hardly justified in assuming that whoever is communicating with the enemy on the astral plane does so every time he goes to sleep; so if there’s nothing suspicious in Captain Fennimere’s actions when he is out of his body tonight I shall have to spend further nights checking up on both of them.’
The day was wet and dreary, so they did not go out but spent the afternoon reading and in the casual, amusing conversation of which they never tired when they were together. After dinner they repaired once more to the library and the Duke remade the pentacle. Watches were changed round, so that Simon was to take the first, Rex the second and Richard the third. The same performance was gone through as on the previous evening and by ten o’clock de Richleau, with Simon beside him to keep watch, was tucked up in bed all ready to set out on his astral journey.
He reached London about half-past ten and observed at once that there was a lull in the blitzkrieg. After the previous nights the quiet of the great city seemed a little sinister, as in view of the fact that comparatively few of London’s millions could yet be asleep the silence was unnatural.
Although the night was dark and rainy the Duke had no difficulty in identifying the lake in Regent’s Park and, coming down near it, he glided northwards, across the canal to the great dark block of North Gate Mansions. There were several doors to the solid, well-built flats but he soon found the hallway that served No. 43 and sailing up the lift-shaft he passed through the door of Captain Fennimere’s flat to find that the Captain was off duty and had been entertaining a decidedly attractive young woman to dinner.
From their conversation it was soon clear to the Duke that she was neither the Captain’s wife nor his fiancé; but that their relations had reached a degree of no uncertain intimacy was soon manifest. A little before eleven a mid-servant came in to inquire if there was anything more that the Captain required and having been answered in the negative went off to bed. The Captain then experienced no difficulty in persuading his charming guest to remove her dress, lest it should become creased, and they settled down together very happily on a large sofa which they had drawn up in front of the fire.
The Duke viewed these proceedings with considerable regret; not because he was in any way a Puritan and would willingly have deprived either party of the recreation upon which they were bent, but because he foresaw a long and, for him, tiresome wait before there was any hope of the Captain’s going to sleep.
It was hardly likely that these two obviously healthy people would have concluded their somewhat spasmodic and entirely uninteresting conversation for another hour or two, and then it was a foregone conclusion that the sailor would see the lady home; so it was quite on the cards that his astral might not emerge from its mortal frame before two or three o’clock in the morning.
However, as the conversation progressed, the Duke became aware that the couple, although obviously enamoured of each other, were not in the first hectic flush of an amour which might well have led to their remaining embraced until the early hours of the morning. He would have been prepared to wager that the affair had reached a more or less routine stage where enjoyment was had by all, but parting could be borne without heart-ache after reasonable indulgence. He therefore decided to leave them to it and return in half an hour, meanwhile occupying himself with any good work which he could find to do in the big block of mansions.
Several of the flats he visited had been evacuated by their occupants, and others provided a quiet domestic scene which failed to give him the sort of opportunity that he was seeking.
After visiting several he entered a bedroom in which a little girl was tossing sleeplessly, tortured with ear-ache. A few passes over her were sufficient to relieve the pain and send her to sleep, upon which her astral rose from her body in the form of a middle-aged man with distinguished features; who proved at once to be ‘aware’, as before moving off to attend to his own affairs he thanked the Duke most courteously for his kindness.
In another flat de Richleau found an elderly woman with a nasty wound in her shoulder which had been caused by the splinter of an anti-aircraft shell. He sent her to sleep also, but her astral proved to be a dull, almost sightless replica of herself which stood naked and ugly, peering at him suspiciously; upon which he promptly left her and returned to see how Captain Fennimere was getting on.
It proved that the Duke had judged his time well, as the Captain’s charming guest was in the process of dressing and the Captain, who was not in the room, returned shortly afterwards with a mirror which he held for her while she tidied her hair. After she had put herself to rights they had a whisky-and-soda and a cigarette apiece, ate some biscuits and embraced with care so that the lady’s make-up should not suffer in the process. De Richleau observed with some surprise that as the Captain saw her to the hall door he did not put on his cap and coat but let the girl pass out and stood there smiling ‘good-night’ as she went down in the lift.
‘This is strangely ungallant conduct in a naval man,’ thought the Duke, ‘and he certainly does not deserve his good fortune.’ A moment later, however, he realised that he had misjudged the Captain most unfairly, as the lift did not descend to the ground-floor but stopped two floors below, and the girl got out. Prompted by idle curiosity, de Richleau slid down after her and followed her through the door of a flat which was obviously her home. In the drawing-room an elderly man was sitting reading, and the Duke was considerably amused to hear the Captain’s girl friend say brightly as she came in:
‘Hullo, Daddy! I do hope you weren’t anxious about me but my taxi took simply ages getting across London in the black-out. Anyhow, Muriel and I spent hours practising on each other with those beastly bandages so I think we’ve both got a good chance of passing our First-Aid exam, tomorrow.’
‘First-Aid,’ murmured the Duke inaudibly. ‘First-Aid, indeed—you little minx!’ Then he left the lovely liar to pass through the ceiling and the flat above into Captain Fennimere’s abode.
The Captain was partially undressed and splashing about at the fixed wash-basin in his bathroom. Five minutes later he was in bed and, apparently untroubled by any pangs of conscience over his illicit affair with his neighbour’s daughter or by anxieties over Britain’s shipping losses, he was very soon asleep.
As he began to snore gently, his astral rose through the bedclothes and de Richleau saw at once that the Captain had reached a much more advanced state than the Admiral. Fennimere’s astral immediately took the form of an extremely good-looking woman with a broad forehead and well-modelled chin which denoted intelligence and determination. She was dressed in flowing garments not unlike those that de Richleau himself was wearing and her dark hair was done high on her head in hundreds of small curls, as was the fashion in Roman times.
The Duke turned his face away so that he should not be recognised, but after one swift glance in his direction the Captain’s astral made a swift and purposeful exit. From what followed, the Duke knew that they were journeying back in time. When the mist cleared, the lady with the flowing robes was walking in the garden of a Roman villa surrounded by tall cypresses and above a rocky beach which was gently lapped by the blue waters of the Mediterranean. De Richleau instantly lifted himself to a higher level of consciousness so that he would be invisible but remained in the vicinity of the moss-patched balustrade that ran along the terrace, while he kept an eye upon his quarry.
Evidently the Captain’s Roman incarnation had been a particularly happy one so he returned to it as the woman he had then been, to renew his mental strength and tranquility of mind; but the Duke felt certain that he would not stay there for very long, as there is always work waiting for those who have knowledge, and such spirits are not apt to be self-indulgent.
His guess proved correct. After sauntering a little among the ilex and sweet-smelling flowering shrubs, while she gazed out with a thoughtful look across the lovely bay, the Roman lady shook herself slightly, the whole scene disappeared and they came back through time to a very different one.
The crump of bombs and the crashing of anti-aircraft guns suddenly rent the silence and the Duke found that they were above a large city. It was not London, and for the moment he had no means of identifying it, but he assumed that it was somewhere in the Provinces. The Captain’s astral went, without hesitation, to a spot where a land-mine had just exploded, and with others who were moving from the upper sphere in that direction he began to help in the work of assisting the newly-dead to find their bearings.
De Richleau saw that the Captain had now taken the form of a hospital nurse, so evidently he liked himself best as a female, but the form he had chosen was admirably suited to his present activities, as for some time after they have been struck down those who have just died nearly always fail to realise that they are dead. Unless they are possessed of the Old Wisdom they know nothing except that they seem to have sustained a severe shock and are very cold, so they lend themselves to the ministrations of a nurse more readily than to any other person and gladly accept the hot soup and warm garments which are provided for them, without having the faintest idea that these are just as much of an astral nature as they themselves.
Judging that as the Captain was obviously a practised helper he would spend the best part of his night at this work of mercy, the Duke decided that the best thing he could do was to employ himself in a similar manner, so he clothed himself in the white garments of a surgeon and set about the business.
It was near dawn when the nurse whom de Richleau was keeping under observation ceased her labours. With other helpers they had gone from one bombed building to another during the night, and for hours after the bombing ceased had busied themselves with the mortally-wounded who passed from Earth life in First-Aid Posts and hospitals.
At last the martyred provincial city faded and the Duke was aware that Captain Fennimere was once more going back in time. When he caught up with him it was to find the Captain, now in male form and dressed with the richness of a wealthy merchant of the eighteenth century, entering a long music-room in a big, well-furnished house. It then became apparent that in one of his incarnations— and probably the last—the Captain had been a most accomplished musician, or possibly even a composer. He sat down at a piano and without hesitation began to play certain soothing and delightful pieces, evidently with the intention of restoring calm to his spirit after the horrors it had witnessed during the night.
Having played for about half an hour, Captain Fennimere stopped abruptly and returned with lightning speed to his mortal body. De Richleau followed, entering the flat at North Gate just in time to see the maid set down the Captain’s morning-tea at his bedside as he raised himself sleepily on one elbow. Two minutes later the Duke was back at Cardinals Folly and waking by his own will to tell Richard that all was well with him but that his night’s journey had again proved fruitless.
Unlike the previous morning, de Richleau felt unrefreshed by his sleep, as is always the case after a night which one’s astral has been working instead of merely amusing itself. On reaching his room, therefore, he turned in and slept for another couple of hours, this time renewing his strength by idling in those pleasant places which he could reach at will.
Later that day, after the Duke had recounted his night’s adventures to the others, Richard remarked: ‘How strange it is that the Admiral, who appears to be such a devoted husband in this world, should promptly rush off in his astral for fun and games with a little bit of Chinese nonsense, while the Captain, who is evidently a bright lad here, devotes himself to good works when he’s on the other side.’
‘There’s nothing particularly strange in that,’ replied the Duke. ‘A person may be in a comparatively low state of spiritual development yet through energy and singleness of purpose achieve a position of considerable authority during one of his lives on Earth, just as the Admiral has done. On the other hand, however advanced people may be in their true selves, each time they are born again their knowledge is obscured by the flesh; so until their consciousness about the eternal truths is awakened through some fresh contact they may behave as though they were still in the lowest form—sometimes they even die without apparently having achieved any further progress.’
‘That sounds an awful waste of time,’ protested Rex.
‘Oh, no, it’s not; because in every life one pays off certain debts and learns something. I once knew an old ploughman who could not even read or write, yet he was in his last Earthly incarnation and due to ascend to the Buddhaic sphere. He had no idea of that at all while in his body, but I knew it because I used to seek guidance from him on the astral. He had only one lesson left to learn—that of humility—and of his own free will he had deliberately elected to be born as a poor peasant to whom all knowledge of the Old Wisdom should be denied during his last life on Earth.’
‘Didn’t realise one could choose the state one would like to be born in,’ Simon commented.
‘You cannot until you’re nearing the end of your Earthly lives and have very little left to learn. It is then granted to you to select such incarnations as will enable you to master those last lessons most rapidly—just as an advanced student at a university is allowed considerable latitude in the choice of the subjects he wishes to take and his hours of work. Our Lord, for example, took the extreme step of electing to bear the pains and penalties of his last three lives in one incarnation. In the short space of thirty years he paid off every remaining debt that he had incurred during his many lives on this, the material plane, and with an unsurpassed display of fortitude supported all the resulting suffering so that he might free himself from the flesh for ever.’
‘He obviously had true memory, though,’ remarked Marie Lou. ‘Any number of his sayings bear witness to it.’
‘Certainly. Most people who are well on the upward path are reawakened some time in each Earthly incarnation. The chance of acquiring knowledge comes to many, either through someone they meet or through a book. Those who are not ready refuse to accept it, but those who are ready instinctively realise at once that all other faiths contain only a portion of the truth, because every single one of them embodies inconsistencies which cannot be got over; whereas the true wisdom is absolutely logical and completely just. No-one who has knowledge ever endeavours to force it on anyone else, because to do so is sheer waste of time; but whenever anyone is ready to receive it, steps are taken to ensure that he shall do so.’
‘I wonder if I was really ready when, some years ago, you first brought it to us?’ said Richard. ‘I believed all right, because everything you’d ever told us fitted in, and the law of Karma, by which one reaps exactly what one sows, not an atom more nor an atom less, is so obviously fair. It does away once and for all with the hoplessly unsatisfactory teaching that after one short life—a life of only a few years for those who die in childhood—a soul is either given entry to Heaven or damned to rot in Hell for all eternity. No thinking person can possibly subscribe to a belief which is based on such an absurd travesty of justice. But except on very rare occasions I’ve never succeeded in remembering my dreams and at one time both Marie Lou and I tried very hard indeed. She succeeded comparatively easily, whereas I could make no headway at all.’
‘That, Richard, is because Marie Lou had trained herself in past lives and at one time she was what is called a “looker” in a temple, so it was easy for her to pick up again. You, on the other hand, although you probably don’t realise it, are a “healer”, as for a long time past you have steadily been cultivating your powers in that direction.’
‘That’s interesting,’ Richard smiled. ‘If Marie Lou gets a headache I can certainly take it away by just a few minutes’ massage.’
De Richleau nodded. ‘If you started to train again you could probably do quite a lot in the way of taking pain from people who had toothache, rheumatism, and so on, as well. In any case, it is only by pure chance that Marie Lou happens to be more advanced than you are, and the fact that she remembers her dreams with unusual clarity has nothing whatever to do with it.’
‘Where do I come in?’ asked Simon. ‘I can remember bits of my dreams every morning—that is if I concentrate when I wake up—but I’ve never been able to achieve continuity.’
‘You’re fairly well on the road, as in past lives you trained as a neophyte.’
‘And me?’ Rex inquired.
‘You, Rex, are much the youngest soul among us and that, perhaps, is why you’re so successful with all modern things on the material plane, such as handling racing-cars and aeroplanes. You have only just reached the stage at which it was time for you to be given your first opportunity to achieve wisdom. That, undoubtedly, is the reason why it was decreed that you and I should become friends.’
There was a little silence, then Simon said: ‘Er—getting back to the business in hand—it seems that you’re stymied with both the Admiral and the Captain, so what’s the drill now?’
‘I shan’t bother any more with the Captain,’ replied the Duke. ‘From his performance last night it’s clear that he is a regular helper and quite definitely one of us. I don’t suppose he remembers his dreams—unless at some time he has trained himself to do so—but on the astral he obviously has full consciousness of his past lives and is well set upon the upward path. It’s quite unthinkable that anyone so advanced would be led into betraying his country unconsciously, and I’m sure that he could put up sufficient resistance on his own account to prevent any evil entity forcing him into anything that he didn’t wish to do. I’ll have to give the Admiral a little more supervision, though, as his astral life definitely still lacks continuity, and there may be periods when he is got hold of by our enemies without his understanding what is happening to him.’
In consequence, for the next seven nights de Richleau again accompanied the Admiral upon what were undoubtedly unplanned journeys to a great variety of places. The old boy was trying very hard to master the art of regaining his lost youth but as yet he evidently had only the most rudimentary notions as to how this could be done. Once he succeeded too well and de Richleau was amused to find him enthusiastically bowling a hoop in Kensington Gardens, while on another occasion, although apparently well advanced in years, he appeared in a sloe-eyed Spanish dancer’s bedroom dressed in an Eton suit. But in spite of these slight misadventures he brought all the vigour of his indestructible true personality to the full enjoyment of his nights. His lady-friends were many and varied. Innumerable sets of tennis were played with one group of acquaintances or another, he took frequent occasion to swim, with a great spluttering, and appeared to find particular delight— which the Duke by no means shared—in going to sea in the various ships that he had commanded, preferably in the roughest possible weather.
After a week of nights in the Admiral’s company, during which nothing that could be regarded as in the least suspicious had occurred, the Duke formed the definte opinion that his hardy sailor could not be the unconscious means through which the Nazis were getting their information, so he decided that he must adopt a different line of investigation and went up to London to see Sir Pellinore.
He did not describe to the elderly Baronet the astral doings of the Admiral or the Captain, as he felt quite convinced that if he did Sir Pellinore’s original scepticism would immediately return; it would have been asking too much of him to accept such apparently fantastic happenings, however natural they might be on the astral plane. Instead, the Duke gave a dry, business-like almost scientific report to the effect that during the past ten days he had utilised his powers to examine the subconscious of the two naval officers while they slept and had formed the opinion that neither was in any way responsible for the leakage.
‘Then, if they’re not, who the devil is?’ grunted Sir Pellinore.
‘Goodness knows,’ replied the Duke. ‘We are now up against exactly the same problem as we were when you originally vouched for the integrity of these two officers. They are the only people who know all the routes given to various convoys, and it is outside all reason to suppose that the captain of each convoy which goes out is a traitor who has means of communicating with the enemy when he is already several hundred miles from his port of departure.’
‘Perhaps your theory is entirely wrong, then, and there is in the Admiralty, all unsuspected, a Nazi agent who has some means of photographing Fennimere’s instructions to convoys after they’re written out?’
De Richleau shrugged. ‘But the Admiral himself told us that immediately the writing of them is finished Fennimere seals them up in their weighted envelopes and locks them away in his steel despatch-box. In addition, we have Fennimere’s word for it that the despatch-boxes are never unlocked again before he hands them over to the various captains commanding convoy escorts, and I am quite prepared to take his word as to that.’
Sir Pellinore’s blue eyes narrowed. ‘I meant that the convoy instructions might be photographed by some new X-ray process through Fennimere’s despatch-box, either while they are still at the Admiralty or while he is en route for one of the ports.’
‘No,’ de Richleau shook his head. ‘Even if an X-ray apparatus has been invented which would photograph through steel, it’s quite certain that the handwritten instructions are folded up before they are inserted into their envelopes; therefore the writing on them would come out in the photograph as an oblong of incredibly confused strokes owing to several lines of writing being photographed one on top of the other. I feel convinced that it would be quite impossible to decipher such a document—or at least, sufficient of it to make sense.’
‘Damme!’ exclaimed Sir Pellinore, ‘you’re right there. But we must get to the bottom of this business somehow. It’s frightful—utterly shattering! We lost another hundred thousand tons last week. Britain’s shipping losses in the Atlantic have become the crux of the whole war. If we can defeat the Nazis there everything else will take care of itself in due course; but if not, we’ll never be able to build up an Air Force big enough to smash the enemy, we’ll be faced with starvation and—and God knows what unthinkable fate may overtake us all.’
He rose a little wearily to indicate that the interview was over, as he added more slowly: ‘It’s good of you to have done what you have in an attempt to help us, but since you’ve failed we must try to think up other lines of investigation. I’m sure you’ll forgive me now. Got a number of urgent things to which I must give my immediate attention.’
‘One moment, ’said the Duke quietly. ‘My own theory may be wrong, but I haven’t the least intention of throwing in my hand. Since you did me the honour of calling me in, whether the leakage is on the astral or the physical plane I mean to find it.’
‘That’s decent of you, but I don’t see what more you can do.’
‘Having failed this end, I can try the other; if you’re prepared to get me particulars as to when the next convoy sails and the route it will take.’
‘I see. You propose to try working back from an actual sinking?’
‘That’s the idea. But I must know approximately where the ships will be in order to find them in the great wastes of the Atlantic at night, as I make no pretence that my powers are omnipotent.’
Sir Pellinore nodded slowly. ‘Well, it’s a pretty stiff request—in fact, one which will have to be referred to the First Lord—but in such exceptional circumstances I’ve no doubt that I can fix it. Naturally, though, I wouldn’t dare mention the most unusual line that your investigations are taking. And that’s a nasty fence to get over, as I’m certain to be asked what use you propose to make of the information.’
‘I don’t think that need worry you,’ replied the Duke. ‘Tell them that I have a theory which I am not at the moment prepared to disclose but which concerns the interception of directional wireless, and that if I’m to check up on the messages sent out by any convoy it’s essential that I should be informed of its approximate position.’
‘That sounds all right on the face of it, but it won’t wash in practice. I should have thought you would have realised that none of our ships use wireless once their escort has left them; to do so would give away their position to the enemy.’
‘Of course,’ de Richleau smiled, ‘but the line I am suggesting is that, unknown to the Admiralty, somebody may use a new type of portable sending apparatus, and that I am endeavouring to find out if that is so.’
‘Umph,’ grunted the Baronet; ‘that’s pretty good. You’re a shrewd feller, Duke. Very well; I’ll see the people concerned tonight, and I may be able to give you the information you want tomorrow morning.’
Early next morning Sir Pellinore rang de Richleau up to tell him that he had made an appointment for him at the Admiralty, at eleven o’clock. On presenting himself there the Duke duly signed his name in the book and was taken straight up to the Admiral’s room.
For a little time they discussed the theory of spies smuggling portable wireless transmitters on to one of the ships in each convoy, and the Admiral tried hard to pump his visitor about this line of investigation. But the Duke was a wily man, and although he actually knew very little about beam wireless he inferred that he was in touch with a civil radio expert who had certain original ideas on the subject and official access to B.B.C. apparatus which would enable him to make the necessary tests.
‘You’ll have to give this fellow particulars of the route, then,’ said the Admiral glumly.
‘No. That is not necessary,’ de Richleau quickly reassured him; ‘I can keep that part of it to myself.’
‘Thank God,’ the Admiral grunted. ‘This business is getting us all down, but the fewer people who know how badly we’re up against it the better, and I’ve already told you of the extreme care with which we guard the secret of each route from the moment it is decided. For that reason I must ask you to carry in your head the information which I shall give you. On no account must you write it down or make any notes about it afterwards, in case they fall into wrong hands.’
‘Fortunately I have an excellent memory,’ smiled the Duke.
‘Very well, then. This is the situation. Our convoys are made up in various ports, mainly on the west coast and the north-east coast of Scotland. A convoy leaves every two or three days and the next one to sail is due to weigh anchor in the Mersey at eleven-fifteen tonight. It will proceed at a speed of approximately nine knots, the pace of the slowest ship, north-west by west to a point south of the Isle of Man. It will then pass through the North Channel between Ulster and Scotland until it has Malin Head, North Ireland, upon its beam, when it will set a course north-west by north to a point 58 degrees north and 12 degrees west. At that point its escort will leave it and it will turn west by south, continuing on that course until it reaches the twentieth meridian west, upon which it will turn south-west. I need not bother you with particulars regarding the latter half of its journey, since during that the convoy will have passed out of the danger area.’
Richleau repeated the particulars several times, then he said: ‘I take it, then, that the sinkings all occur within two or three days of each convoy having been left by its escort?’
‘Not all; but certainly eighty-five per cent of them take place within forty-eight hours of the escort’s having turned for home.’
‘Wouldn’t it be possible, then, for the escorts to continue with convoys for an additional two days?’
The Admiral sadly shook his head. ‘That is the obvious solution, but it just can’t be done. Owing to our commitments in the Mediterranean, and the necessity for maintaining a strong fleet constantly in Home waters to repel any attempt at invasion, we simply have not enough destroyers to go round. Last spring we had virtually got the submarine menace under, but the collapse of France altered all that. The Italians would never have dared to come in if France hadn’t cracked, and however much we may despise the cowardice of the Italian Navy it cannot possibly be ignored as long as it has warships which are capable of putting to sea and bringing their guns to bear upon either our shipping in the Mediterreanean or the coast towns of our Allies and ourselves.’
Turning in his swivel chair he pointed to a large wall map and went on: ‘As you can see at a glance, the coasts of Italy, Sicily, Sardinia, Libya, the Dodecanese, Eritrea and Italian Somaliland together stretch for literally thousands of miles. They require a deal of watching to prevent Italian units skulking from port to port and massing somewhere so that they might suddenly emerge and take small portions of our Mediterranean Fleet by surprise. But that’s not the end of the story. As Italy came in, throwing this huge additional task upon our shoulders, France went out. A number of her lighter ships came over to Britain with General de Gaulle, but the great bulk of the French Fleet was lost to us. In consequence, the Navy has ever since been faced with the positively Herculean labour of maintaining the freedom of the seas against two still considerable enemy Navies and the enemies’ powerful long-range bombers, entirely on its own.’
De Richleau lit one of his long, fat Turkish cigarettes. ‘Yes. I’ve never had any illusions as to what the collapse of France really meant for Britain. I was born a Frenchman myself, but I should be the very first to urge that when the war is over men of Bordeaux and Vichy should be dealt with without mercy. It’s not only the crook politicians like Laval who are responsible; without adequate support they could not have done what they have done. I should say that if one includes high officers of the Navy, Army and Air Force, politicians and bureaucrats, there are at least two thousand Frenchmen who should be shot for the part they have played in disgracing the fair name of France and jeopardising the freedom of the world.’
‘You’re right there, and I only hope that our leaders will not show any stupid sentimental weakness once we’re in a position to call these fellows to account. But the devil of it is that, although I would never admit it outside these four walls, our Victory still remains horribly uncertain. I tell you, Duke, sometimes at night during the past few weeks I’ve wakened up in a cold sweat. The treachery of France is only now beginning to have its full effect through these terrible shipping losses which we’re sustaining in the Western Atlantic. When I think of our ships going down night after night with hundreds of decent sailormen and all those cargoes, the safe arrival of which alone can give us the power to break the Nazis, I could cheerfully cut the throat of every Frenchman indiscriminately.’
The Admiral paused for a moment, then went on with quiet grimness. ‘Still, it’s no good jobbing backwards; the foul deed of betrayal is history now, and it’s left for people like you and me to try to counter the appalling results. I’m hanged if I can see why you should be able to do anything about it which we can’t do here, and I don’t get this beam wireless idea of yours at all. However, like a drowning man I’m prepared to clutch at any straw, and there’s something about you which somehow gives me the wild hope that instead of a straw you may prove a solid wooden spar.’ He stood up and held out his hand. ‘For God’s sake do your damn’dest.’
‘I will,’ said the Duke, and he added a phrase of which he alone knew the true significance. ‘I’ll get to the bottom of this even if I have to go to Hell to do it.’