As Kuporovitch hurried away from the Crillon his brain was in a whirl. He now felt certain that Schaub was right and that even on his signature the Gestapo Chief at the Cherche-Midi would never release a prisoner to an ordinary civilian who could produce no special credentials; yet how in thunder could he persuade or force a Gestapo man to co-operate with him?
It occurred to him that if he could find one walking unaccompanied in a quiet part of the city he might attack him without warning in the blackout, stun and strip him of his uniform; but he threw out that idea almost as soon as he thought of it. His French had always been good, and now after the months he had spent in Paris it was extremely fluent; but his German was so limited that he knew no more than a score of expressions and stock phrases. To present himself at the Cherche-Midi in a German uniform when he was unable to speak the language, or understand it, would have been sheer madness.
His next thought was that he might attack a French gendarme or agent de ville; but it seemed highly doubtful if the Gestapo would trust an ordinary French policeman with one of their prisoners, and he might search the streets of Paris all night without coming across a French police officer of lieutenant’s or captain’s rank. But that led to the idea that he might be able to borrow a uniform from Ribaud, so going into the nearest call-box he rang up the Sûreté.
The lieutenant was not in his office. To his dismay, Kuporovitch learnt that the detective had gone out on some special work and was not expected back until the morning. All the odds were that by the morning it would be too late, and this blow to his hopes made the unfortunate Russian more agitated than ever.
Endeavouring to calm himself so that he might think more clearly he left the box and tried to recall Schaub’s words exactly. After a little he felt certain the Major had said that the Gestapo would only release Madeleine to one of their own people or a French official of some standing, and it was then for the first time that he glimpsed a possible way out of this terrible situation.
He had never met Luc Ferrière, but he had often heard Madeleine speak of him. Ferrière was the Mayor of Batignolles, and the mayor of an important district in Central Paris must certainly rank as a high French official, particularly as all mayors are also magistrates and have considerable powers with the police. Somehow or other, Monsieur Ferrière must be roped in to assist in Madeleine’s release.
Instinctively, Kuporovitch had been hurrying in the direction of the Cherche-Midi, but he now turned about and dived into a Metro-station that he had just passed, taking a ticket to the Place Malesherbes, near which he knew the Mayor lived.
On coming up from the underground at the other end he made a few enquiries and within twenty minutes of having first had his idea he was standing on the Mayor’s doorstep. The door was opened to him by the Mayor’s housekeeper, and to his immense relief he learned that Monsieur Ferrière was at home. He said that he did not know the Mayor, but had to see him on most urgent business. A few moments later he was shown into a small study, where Ferrière, wearing two dressing-gowns, one on top of the other, as a protection from the cold, was seated with a large stamp album open on a desk in front of him.
While in the Metro Kuporovitch had considered how best to tackle the Mayor, and he had come to the conclusion that, if possible, it would be far better to trick him into giving his willing co-operation than to force him to it against his will, as in the latter case he was much more likely either to refuse his assistance altogether or betray them if some unforeseen circumstance arose. Recalling, too, that only that morning Lavinsky had mistaken him for a German, owing to his slight accent, he decided that he would, at all events, at first endeavour to convey the impression that he was German to Monsieur Ferrière without actually stating that he was. In consequence he greeted the Mayor affably, and said:
‘I trust, Monsieur le Maire, that you will forgive me for intruding upon you at this hour, but I have come direct from German Headquarters at the Crillon to see you on urgent business.’
‘In that case, no excuse is needed,’ smiled the tall, thin Mayor, standing up and waving Kuporovitch to a chair. ‘I am always happy to give the authorities my co-operation at any hour.’
‘I felt sure that would be so,’ Kuporovitch went on, ‘and I come to you with regard to Mademoiselle Madeleine Lavallière. I don’t know if you’ve yet been informed of it, but she was arrested yesterday evening.’
The Mayor nodded, falling completely into the trap, and giving himself away to Kuporovitch in a manner that was entirely unexpected. ‘So your people took my tip and investigated that nursing-home she was running. I felt certain it was phoney when I visited it two days ago.’
Kuporovitch was thinking: So that’s the way it was. Madeleine and the others owe their arrest to this dirty traitor’s visit. By God! He shall pay for it before we’re through with him!
But his pleasant smile remained unaltered as he said: ‘The authorities are most grateful to you for your help, Monsieur le Maire. It was good work to break up this nest of spies and saboteurs; but they are not content to stop at that, and it has occurred to them that if they release some of the conspirators but keep a watch on them, they in due course, may lead us to other groups of which we as yet have no knowledge. It has been decided to release Mademoiselle Lavallière for this purpose. I wonder now if you would care to place the Gestapo in your debt still further?’
‘But of course,’ the Mayor spread out his long knobbly hands. ‘If there is anything that I can do you have only to suggest it.’
‘Very well then. This is the proposal. If Mademoiselle Lavallière is released without apparent reason, firstly, she may be suspicious and on that account refrain for a long time from contacting any of her associates; secondly, it will not be easy to keep a watch on her the whole time without her becoming aware that she is under supervision. You are a responsible French official and you have known her for a number of years. Saying that you had heard of her arrest in the ordinary way, it would not be unnatural if you endeavoured to use such influence as you possess on her behalf. The authorities would naturally listen to anybody in your position, and they might perhaps be persuaded to release her if you were prepared to guarantee for her good behaviour and have her to live in your house under your personal supervision.’
‘Ha, ha! I see!’ exclaimed the Mayor. ‘A clever move, that! She would then believe that there was no danger in her resuming her activities, while all the time I should be able to report to you regarding her movements.’
‘Exactly,’ beamed Kuporovitch. ‘May I take it that you are prepared to give your help?’
‘But certainly.’
‘Good then. I fear, though, I shall have to ask you to go out and get her at once, because speed in this matter is of the first importance. There must have been a number of people who were using that nursing-home who do not yet know that it has been raided. If Mademoiselle Lavallière is freed tonight, it is almost certain that she will try to get in touch with as many of them as she can to warn them about going back there. With luck, you may be able to get for us the telephone numbers which she uses immediately she returns here with you.’
‘In that case, I will set off immediately,’ agreed the Mayor. ‘It will not take me five minutes to get my outdoor clothes on, and I have a small car in which I can go and fetch her. But what about the order for her release?’
‘I have it here,’ replied Kuporovitch, producing the order from his pocket and handing it over. ‘It remains now only for me to thank you on behalf of the authorities and to urge you to lose not a moment, as the sooner you can get Mademoiselle Lavallière back the sooner she may put us on the track of some of her fellow conspirators.’
Kuporovitch would have given a very great deal to have been able to accompany Ferrière to the Cherche-Midi, and he positively loathed having to part with the precious order. But in the new set-up which he had so skilfully engineered it would have wrecked his whole story if, now that he was posing as a Gestapo agent who had set Ferrière on to spy on Madeleine, he should allow himself to be seen by her in the Mayor’s company; so having wished him a most cordial good-night he left the house.
Outside he walked about a hundred yards down the street and took cover in a darkened doorway, and from this post of vantage he kept an anxious watch. Five minutes later he saw the Mayor come out, and he followed him down the street to a small garage, from which after a short interval Ferrière drove away in his little car.
Kuporovitch then returned to the Mayor’s house and rang the bell again. When the old housekeeper came to the door he gently pushed his way through it and closed it behind him, as he said: ‘Madame, before Monsieur le Maire returns, I should like to have a few words with you.’
As she stood back he went on: ‘It is not always possible to give full explanations as to measures which it is sometimes necessary to take in these difficult times. Please be assured that I have no intention of harming you; but, in order to ensure your silence, I must now tie you up and gag you.’
While they had been speaking he had taken his gun from his pocket just so that she could see it; now he put it back again, and his voice was so gentle that the elderly woman showed no alarm.
Shrugging her shoulders with a little helpless gesture she said: ‘I have no desire to be shot, monsieur, so I shall not try to resist you.’
‘That is very sensible,’ he smiled. ‘Would you prefer to remain a prisoner in the kitchen or in your bedroom?’
‘That depends on how long I must remain tied up,’ she replied.
‘All night, I fear, and before leaving you I should like to make you as comfortable as possible.’
She sighed. ‘We had better go up to my room then.’ And turning she led the way upstairs.
Knowing that Ferrière kept no servants other than his housekeeper, Kuporovitch had not anticipated any great difficulties in carrying out this portion of his plan. It had been a hundred to one on the house being empty except for her, and she had shown good sense in not seeking to resist him; but it would have been distasteful to have had to employ force against an elderly woman, so he was pleased that matters were going so smoothly.
On reaching her room she lay down on the bed while Kuporovitch tied her ankles and her wrists in front of her. He then lightly gagged her with a silk handkerchief and drew all the bedcoverings over her so that she should keep as warm as possible. He was just about to bid her good-night and leave the room when his glance happened to light upon a little packet of newspaper clippings on her dressing-table, and in the headline of the topmost one the name ‘de Gaulle’ caught his eye.
Picking the clippings up, he glanced swiftly through them, and soon he saw that they were of various dates from papers issued in the past few months, but that each was concerned with General de Gaulle’s activities. This struck him as strange, seeing that he was in a pro-Nazi household, so going over to the bed he loosened the woman’s gag and said to her:
‘May I enquire, Madame, the reason for your interest in General de Gaulle?’
For the first time a spirit of fight showed in the woman’s eyes, as she said: ‘I don’t know who you are, and I suppose you’re one of these Nazis; but all the same you might as well hear the truth for once. General de Gaulle is a great man, and he represents the real spirit of France, however much people like Monsieur Ferrière may kowtow to you. The time will come when the General will land here with the English, and you’ll get much more than you bargained for.’
‘If those are your views, Madame,’ said the Russian, ‘may one ask why you’ve continued to serve such a master as Monsieur Ferrière?’
She made an expressive grimace. ‘One must live, Monsieur, and beggars cannot be choosers. I have kept house for Monsieur Ferrière for twenty years, and where else would an old woman like myself find employment?’
Kuporovitch smiled down at her. ‘In that case, I can give you some consolation for the uncomfortable night that you are about to spend. I, too, am a de Gaullist, and while I must protect myself by leaving you tied up like this you may rest assured that it is only on account of the good work and that Monsieur le Maire is about to spend a much more uncomfortable night than yourself.’
‘Bless you, then!’ she exclaimed, her lips twisting into a smile. ‘If that is so, anything that I may suffer is suffered willingly.’
‘Well done!’ smiled Kuporovitch, and having replaced her light gag he patted her shoulder, switched out the lights and left the room.
Downstairs he installed himself in the Mayor’s sitting-room, where, having switched off the light, he sat down in an armchair to wait.
There was now nothing else that he could do as the question of Madeleine’s release lay on the knees of the gods, so he endeavoured to stifle his consuming anxiety as well as he could and pray that all would go well.
His dealings with the housekeeper had occupied about twenty minutes, and a further three-quarters of an hour dragged slowly by before he heard the sound which he had been so anxiously awaiting. The front door banged, and there were steps in the hall. Although he strained his ears to their utmost capacity he could not determine whether there were one or two sets of footsteps, and it required all his control to remain seated in the chair instead of rushing out to discover without the loss of an instant if Monsieur Ferrière had brought Madeleine back with him. The sound of voices raised his hopes. A moment later the light clicked on, and they both walked into the room to find him seated there with his pistol pointed at them.
Madeleine gave a cry of joy, while the Mayor gasped with amazement and consternation. ‘What—what is the meaning of this?’ he stammered awkwardly.
‘Simply, my friend, that the time has come for me to reveal the little trap into which I led you,’ beamed the Russian.
‘Do you mean that you are not—not …’
‘Exactly,’ Kuporovitch purred, ‘I am not, as you thought, an agent of the Gestapo, I am on the other side, and I simply used you to get Mademoiselle Lavallière out of prison.’
The Mayor’s long hands began to flutter in helpless consternation. ‘But—but, in that case, the most frightful things may happen to me. They made me prove my identity at the prison and take full responsibility for Madeleine. I signed the book for her. They will believe that I am a saboteur, who willingly entered into a plot to rescue one of their prisoners! Oh, what have you done! What have you done!’
‘Nothing—so far,’ replied the amiable Russian, standing up; ‘except involve you in far less trouble than you rightly deserve. To-morrow morning—to-night perhaps—the Gestapo people, and a very angry Major Schaub, will come here to demand explanations. That is why we have no time to waste; but if you keep your head I don’t think anything very serious will happen to you.’
The Mayor was wringing his hands and glancing fearfully from side to side as, pocketing his gun, Kuporovitch went on: ‘I am about to tie you up, so that when they arrive here they will find you bound and gagged. For appearances’ sake, it would be better too if I employ a little violence so that it will seem to them that you put up as good a struggle as possible. Then, when they question you, all you’ll have to do is to tell them the simple truth about how I tricked you into getting Mademoiselle Lavallière released and say that when you got back here I set upon you and rendered you powerless before you had any chance to call in the police.’
Even seconds were precious, as Major Schaub might even now be at the Cherche-Midi or in a car following Madeleine to the house, so without more ado Kuporovitch set about the unhappy Mayor.
Seizing him by the collar, he tore it away from its studs so that it gaped open at the neck. He then knocked off the Mayor’s spectacles and gave the cringing man a light but well-aimed punch sufficient to provide him with a good black eye. Having pushed him on to the floor, he bound and gagged him far more tightly than he had the house-keeper, so that when he had done Ferrière resembled a trussed turkey, with his wrists and ankles knotted up behind his back. Next Kuporovitch scattered the things off the desk and wrecked some of the lighter furniture with a few kicks, as though a violent struggle had taken place in the room. Then he grabbed Madeleine by the arm and hurried her out of the house.
On reaching the street they turned south-westward along the Rue Cardinet at a rapid pace, while Madeleine gave unstinted praise to the Russian for his splendid resource, and gasped out her intense relief at having been rescued before seeing the inside of a Gestapo torture chamber.
Kuporovitch who was in a high good humour, made light of the matter; but as they walked on towards the Bois de Boulogne, and he told her how he had managed to get the order for her release out of Major Schaub, he could not altogether conceal his anxiety about the future. They were now both hunted and homeless. It was a sure thing that by morning a description of them would have been circulated to all the hotels in Paris, so that they dared not put up at one of them for the night. It was early November, and even for the time of the year the weather was exceptionally cold; yet there seemed no alternative to spending a night in the open.
After thirty minutes’ brisk walking they reached the Porte de Neuilly and entering the Bois penetrated some way into it until they found a bench in a secluded spot, where they sat down. For some time they continued to relate their recent experiences to one another in more detail and to speculate anxiously as to whether Lacroix and Gregory had got away and what had happened to the other residents of the nursing-home who had managed to evade capture.
Madeleine felt fairly certain Pierre was among these, as she had seen him dash upstairs on the first alarum, so it was unlikely that he had been killed later in the basement, and he was definitely not among the prisoners who had been taken to the Sûreté with her after the whole house had been searched. During the weeks that she had acted as matron at the home Pierre had been almost constantly in her company. He had served her well and faithfully, so that he was now something more than an old friend, and she had developed a genuine affection for him, It comforted her a little to believe that he had probably evaded the clutches of the Gestapo for the moment; but the young artist was not a very practical or resourceful person, and it worried her considerably to think of him as a bewildered fugitive.
Kuporovitch reassured her as best he could, remarking lightly that they were in no better case themselves, and she then said something which warmed his heart as nothing else could have done:
‘Yes, Stefan dear; but he is alone, and we at least have each other.’
There were so many things that he would have liked to have replied, but he knew this was no moment to give free rein to his thoughts, and without doing that he could not think of anything adequate to say, so he sat there like a shy schoolboy, completely tongue-tied.
Madeleine also seemed to have no more to say, so they stayed silent for a while, until he found that she was beginning to shiver. Standing up, he took off his overcoat and was about to drape it round her shoulders, but she protested quickly and would not let him.
For a few minutes they argued while he sought to persuade her, then she said between chattering teeth: ‘No, Stefan. The cold’s awful enough as it is, and you’d be absolutely frozen without your overcoat; but I’ll tell you what we’ll do, if you like. If we cuddle up together we shall keep a little warmer; then we can have the coat on top of us and share it.’
As they lay down on the bench Kuporovitch was trembling, Madeleine thought it was the cold, but actually it was from the happiness of being able to take her in his arms. Having made themselves as comfortable as they could with the coat pulled well up round them, she rested her smooth cheek against his rough one, and they settled down for the night.
Kuporovitch knew that in the morning they would have to face all sorts of difficulties and perils, but he resolutely put the morning out of his mind. To-night was his, even if he never lived to see another. Had Heinrich Himmler appeared in person beside him and offered him a safe conduct out of France, together with the bed of the President in the Elysée Palace for that night, he would not have exchanged it for that hard park bench with the fair face of the girl he loved so desperately pressed against his own. To-morrow was another day in which all his courage, strength and ingenuity would be exerted to keep her free from the malignant power of their enemies.