Curtain Of Fear Part 7

The big man gave him a queer look and remarked rather sharply, "They were decadent parasites battening on the life-blood of the people; we work tirelessly for the welfare of the people and give expression to their will; so I fail to see the point of your a.n.a.logy."

Nicholas was greatly puzzled, and now quite out of his depth, as it seemed to him that this must be another joke, but he could not be certain; so he said hastily, "I ... er, I'm afraid my Czech is not very good. It's so long since I spoke it that you must have misunderstood me."

"Perhaps I did." The black eyes in the big white face, which looked like currants in an uncooked bun, became guardedly affable. "In any case, I will not detain you longer now, Comrade Professor. It is no part of my functions to attend the type of luncheon at which you are to be the guest of honour to-day, but I shall hear all about it. I am sure we can rely on you when making your remarks to raise no controversial questions, and to impress everyone present with the relief you must feel at having thrown off the shackles of slavery under the British oligarchical-plutocracy."

Although Nicholas had often referred in his articles to the wage-slavery of dock-labourers, cotton-operatives, ship-stokers, and others who were still 'exploited' under private enterprise he had never really thought of them as slaves, much less himself. But he felt that due allowance must be made for hyperbole and Comrade Frek's probable lack of knowledge of actual conditions in Britain; so he said that he would do his best, and with heartfelt relief at having got safely through this dangerous interview, accepted his dismissal.

Little fat Kmoch shepherded Nicholas and his blonde 'Comrade-companion' down to the ground floor, summoned his car and told its driver to take them to the Engelsv Dm. The way to it lay through the so-called 'New Town', which in the old days was the fashionable heart of Prague, and Nicholas could not help being struck by its deterioration.

He was neither surprised nor sorry to see that all the jewellers, milliners, modistes, antiquaries, and other de luxe shops which pandered to the foibles of the rich, had disappeared, and that their places had been taken by others showing only cheap clothes or utility goods. But his expectations were sadly disappointed when it was borne in on him that many of the shop windows were half empty and that none of them seemed to have had a coat of paint for a generation. He noticed, too, that while every tram they pa.s.sed was packed to overflowing, there were very few private cars about, and that the people in the streets, although reasonably well clad, had a generally despondent and down-at-heel appearance.

As the car turned into the broad Wenzeslas Square, Kmoch said quietly, "I should tell you that as neither of you have yet been given official papers it would not be a good thing for you to go out into the town. Not that you will have much time to do so before the reception, but I mention this to save you the unpleasantness of being turned back by the door porters should it have occurred to you to take a short walk. They have orders that no one unable to produce an ident.i.ty card should be allowed to leave the hotel."

Nicholas quickly suppressed the impulse to give a worried glance at his Comrade-companion. He wondered anxiously if she would be able to find a way for them to evade this formidable obstacle to getting out. He needed no telling that he had burnt his boats with Frek; so if she could not he was in it up to the neck.

CHAPTER IX.

LUXURY SUITE FOR TWO.

Two minutes later his mind was temporarily taken off this new anxiety by being diverted to memories of his youth. The car pulled up before the Engelsv Dm, and it turned out to be the old Hotel Amba.s.sador now renamed in honour of Karl Marx's collaborator. As he followed the others into it he smiled a little grimly to himself. Long ago Bilto had pointed it out to him as a sink of iniquity, at which millionaire industrialists squandered the wealth wrung from sweated labour in such pastimes as bathing French chorus girls in champagne and drinking it out of their slippers. As a youngster he had often afterwards stared at it in pa.s.sing with a mixture of curiosity, awe and secret envy; but he had never expected to enter it, let alone with the prospect of being given a room with a young woman who, if more suitably dressed, or undressed, would have qualified for a place in the Folies Bergere.

Yet, within five minutes of Kmoch having spoken to a subservient under-manager, that was precisely the situation in which Nicholas found himself. Kmoch had accompanied them up to the second floor, then rid them of his unwelcome presence; their bags had been brought up, and the porter had left them facing one another in a large double bedroom adjoining which there was a s.p.a.cious bathroom.

With a sudden return of the levity he had felt early that morning he smiled at her and said, "Now all we need is the champagne."

She pointed to the telephone beside the bed. "If you feel like a bottle, you have only to ring down and they'll send one up."

"No," he shook his head. "It was just a silly thought about the sort of thing that used to go on up in these rooms in the old days. We have no time to waste on drinking. I've got you the break you asked for. Now I want the truth about you, and to hear your plans for getting ..."

In one swift step she closed with him, flung her right arm round his neck and pressed the palm of her left hand over his mouth. Her voice came in a frightened whisper: "For G.o.d's sake be careful! Don't you realise that all these rooms are wired. As we're new arrivals someone in the bas.e.m.e.nt will have been put on to listen in to every word we say."

Tearing his face away, he muttered angrily, "Oh, cut it out! You're suffering from persecution mania, and have got spies on the brain."

With an imploring look she seized his arm, pulled him to the bedside, picked up the telephone from its cradle and turning it over showed him its underside. In it there was a round hole covered with a mesh of fine wires. Setting it down again she drew him away to the far end of the room, then put her lips to his ear.

"That's the mike. I daren't interfere with it or they'll smell a rat. Having got us this last chance, don't act like a fool and throw it away. You did your stuff splendidly in front of Frek. Now both of us have to play a part. I'm supposed to be your mistress; so you must call me 'darling' or Fedora. Make love to me, or pretend we're having a row and beat me if you like. But whatever we say out loud must be on lines that will sound normal to our unseen audience."

Everything that had happened to Nicholas since his arrival in Prague had seemed so like a cheap melodrama that he could still hardly bring himself to believe that he was really living in it; yet that little wire mesh arrangement under the telephone cradle had certainly looked like a microphone.

"All right," he whispered. "But I've got a girl of my own at home, and I'm not going to be unfaithful."

"I didn't ask you to," she countered. "And they wouldn't expect us to play those sort of games at this hour of the morning."

He hesitated. "I ... I've never taken a young woman away for the weekend, so I'm at a bit of a loss all round. Give me a lead by saying the sort of thing you said to Bilto when he took you to Marlow."

She gave a low laugh. "He didn't; and I've never been to Marlow."

"What on earth led you to say you had, then?"

"People like Vank expect their women agents to sleep with the informers they are nursing, as part of the drill. It was the first place that came into my head, and saying I was your mistress was the most certain way of convincing him that you were Bilto."

"Blast you! What in h.e.l.l's name impelled you to make him believe that?"

He had raised his voice slightly. With an angry "Shush" she murmured quickly, "We have been whispering long enough. They will regard our silence as unnatural." Then she stepped away from him and added loudly, "Shall I unpack for you, darling?"

He took the cue. "Thanks. I wish you would. I had to leave in such a hurry that I hardly remember what I put in my bag. I hope I didn't forget my shaving things."

She undid the suit-case that Konen had packed for him, and took out some of the contents. "No, here they are. And thank goodness you brought a cake of soap."

"Why?" he asked in mild surprise.

"Because it is rationed here, and the allowance is sufficient only to enable people to wash themselves once a day and bath once a week." Under her breath she went on. "To wish to do so more frequently is to proclaim oneself a decadent bourgeois."

With a rather crooked smile he said loudly, "And that is how it should be, Fedora. Fats are important in our economy. To waste them in unnecessary washing is sabotage."

She gave him a smile of commendation. "Of course; and it is a pity that we did not bring more while we were about it. We could then have saved our ration and at the same time helped a little in depleting the stocks of the capitalist-warmongering English."

Stepping over to her side he took a quick look at the things she was unpacking. They were a miscellaneous lot, but adequate enough to have prevented the British Customs from wondering why he was travelling without any personal belongings. Most of them were of poor quality, but he had never been used to expensive clothes or gear, so that did not worry him; and in any case he hoped that it would not be necessary for him to make use of any of them except the toilet articles. Picking up an imitation silk dressing-gown, he threw it across the end of the bed, and remarked: "This is a nice room they've given us, isn't it?"

"Yes," she replied. "But I don't think I shall be altogether happy here. To live in such luxury is apt to make one forget the lot of the less fortunate, and all our thoughts should be given to them."

"How right you are, Fedora!" he exclaimed with genuine feeling; but he saw from her expression that she was only playing her part and speaking hypocritically, as she went on, "It is not right that just because you have a fine brain you should be pampered and have servants to wait on you. I would much prefer to share the lot of the workers and live in a tenement."

For the first time he began to wonder if a world in which everyone lived in tenements would be a very happy one. After all, no one but a fool lived in a tenement if he could afford something better; yet it was against his creed that any privileged cla.s.s should be left to enjoy benefits denied to the ma.s.ses. With obvious sincerity he put his own point of view to her: "There is nothing anti-social in wishing to live in comfort. It is not our object to bring everyone down to the lowest common level, but to raise the standard of life of all to that enjoyed by the old middle cla.s.ses."

"What wonderful thoughts you have, Bilto! I wish I had a brain like yours," she said in a honeyed voice; then added in a sarcastic whisper, "You are so clever it should be easy for you to think of a way of providing everyone in the world with a thousand a year."

He knew that she had hit upon the snag which had rendered impracticable the successful application of the doctrines of Karl Marx by every workers' government that had so far adopted them, even in a modified form. When the riches of the rich were taken from them the people individually became no wealthier, and the national income began to shrink because there was a limit beyond which the workers could not be taxed without making them worse off than they were before. He was honest enough to admit to himself that actually that was what had happened in Russia, and that poverty there was now almost universal; but he still pinned his faith in the Communist statements that it was due to, and would continue only during, the period of transition.

Again and again he had told himself that complete nationalisation in every country, and the pooling of a.s.sets on a world-wide plan, was the only possible basis for a.s.suring a fair share for all. Yet this was not the first time that he had caught himself wondering a little dubiously what that share would be. His creed demanded that black, brown and yellow men should share equally with whites. Could the world's resources ever provide each family with goods and services equivalent to an income of even five-hundred a year? Given governing bodies of unimpeachable integrity and brilliant planning at the top, with the whole world population educated up to a Utopian standard of unselfishness, devotion to duty and pride in achievement, it might be possible. But that was to ask perfection of mankind, which was another thing that Karl Marx had failed to provide a receipt for achieving.

"Dreaming great dreams, my love?" the honeyed voice enquired; then came the whisper: "Or can it be that people like you find it easier to destroy than to build up, and that you haven't really got any of the answers?"

He had been silent for almost a minute and looked up to see her making a rude face at him, as she went on aloud, "Our journey must have tired my great man. Why don't you lie down and rest for a while? Perhaps you would like me to ma.s.sage your head?"

"Not now, Fedora darling; but bless you for the thought," he replied with equal sweetness. Then he picked up the toilet things, "I think I'll go and shave."

The bedroom had evidently been done up since the war, and its furniture was of the vulgar skin-thin-walnut-on-deal-with-fussy-embellishments type, that has flooded cheap furniture stores all over Europe for a generation. But the bathroom had been left untouched and was a true relic of the Habsburg regime. Nicholas had never seen such a large one before. Its chequered floor, consisting of slabs of black and white marble, was large enough to have held a ping-pong table and four players. In one corner there was a huge bath encased in solid mahogany, with a step up to it, and a yard-wide oval basin with a marble surround was fixed below a mirror that ran nearly up to the ceiling. The only incongruous note was two small towels on airers designed to hold old-fashioned bath-sheets."

He had got only as far as lathering his face when Fedora came in. He saw that she had slipped on a different dress and tidied her hair. Walking over to the bath, she turned the taps full on.

"Why are you doing that?" he asked.

"First because there will be a mike in here, too, and the sound of rushing water is one way to defeat it. Secondly because I thought that as we have been given a private bathroom owing to the fact that you are one of the 'privileged few' here, you might like to have a bath."

Nicholas gave her a suspicious glance. "You're not suggesting that Frek really meant that, are you? I thought his remarks in the worse of taste and most embarra.s.sing for you; but obviously he was only joking when he implied that a sort of private harem is kept for Party leaders."

Her mouth hardened. "You wouldn't find it much of a joke if you were a pretty girl, or the attractive young wife of a man who is not a member of the Party. They don't keep a harem, as such; but one of them has only to fancy a face or figure that he happens to notice in the street and order its owner to be pulled in. Then it's 'into bed you get, my girl, and like it; or your family will be sent to a labour camp'."

"Nonsense!" he retorted angrily. "I don't believe a word of it. You are the worst type of reactionary, and simply doing all you can to put a smear on the Czech People's Government."

"All right. I am a reactionary. And you, it seems, are a Com. I knew you must be pretty far Left from your friendship with that Sinznick couple, but I thought ..."

"You're wrong!" he interrupted. "I'm not a Communist."

"No!" her voice was vibrant with scorn. "Since you insist on splitting straws, you're something worse. You are one of those clever-d.i.c.k Professors who couldn't earn an honest living running a cigarette shop, but think they know how to run the world. You're a typical example of the criminally irresponsible professional teacher, who spends his life cramming young people's heads with impracticable ideas that make them discontented. The really evil men only climb on the band-wagon when the damage is done. It is crazy idealists like you who are the fundamental cause of countless happy homes being plundered, and the best elements in whole nations being treated like criminals or done to death."

He made a gesture of exasperation. "Oh, cut it out. If you feel like that go and try to blow up the Kremlin, or something. And why in G.o.d's name did you get me here? That's what I want to know."

"I should have thought you would have guessed by now." She gave an unpleasant laugh. "But why I am remaining with you is quite another question. There doesn't seem any logical answer to that, so I must be a bit crazy myself. After all, why should I bother about a mind-poisoner like you, when it would be easier for me to get away on my own?"

It was on the tip of his tongue to retort, 'Then for G.o.d's sake go to it.' But it flashed upon him that if she took him at his word he would find himself in a really ghastly mess. If he went back to Frek and told him the truth, he would be regarded as a liar and a criminal who had got cold feet. If he waited where he was until the time came for him to attend the reception he would be found out and hauled off to prison, and should he attempt to go to earth on his own his arrest within a few hours was certain, as he had no papers he could show and no Czech money.

Suppressing the anger he felt at her insults, he said, "Listen, Fedora. It's clear that politically we are poles apart but at the moment that has no bearing on our situation. Against my own better judgment and at your most earnest request, I burnt my boats with Frek this morning. As I understood it, your whole object in persuading me to do that was to have us brought here, because you believed that you could fix a get-away for us both within the next hour or so, and then with a little luck have us smuggled out of Prague on a plane leaving later to-day. What you do or where you go once we are safe, I don't give a d.a.m.n. But till then, I think it's up to you to do the best for me that you can."

She nodded. "Yes. You're quite right. I always meant to, and how we got into that stupid argument I don't quite know. I came in to tell you what I am about to do. I dared not start anything while Kmoch was still likely to be hanging about, but now we've been up here for ten minutes or more he should be safely out of the way; so I am going downstairs. You heard what he said about ident.i.ty cards. The Government lodges its most important foreign visitors here, and it is to keep a check on all their comings and goings that the entrances are watched; but that applies to us too, so I can't go out as I had hoped to do and make contact with my friends. But there are several members of the Legion on the staff here, and I feel certain they will devise some way of smuggling us out past the watch-dogs. It may take me some time to arrange it, though, so don't get any silly idea that I've left you in the lurch. Have a nice bath while you've got the chance; but don't use both those skimpy towels as I mean to have one too, if there's still time when I get back."

When she had left him he finished shaving, undressed and got into the bath. It was the first real chance he had had to sort out his ideas, and the pleasant warmth relaxed the tension to which he had been subject. Although Fedora seemed to think that by now he should have guessed why she had lied to Vank about his being Bilto, he could still find no answer to that riddle. That she had been Bilto's contact was beyond doubt, but as the Marlow weekend had been an invention it seemed he had been wrong in a.s.suming her to be Bilto's mistress.

He had ruled out at once the idea that she might be the woman Bilto hoped to marry, as she did not at all fit the description, but as the widow presumably lived in Prague and Bilto lived in England, he had thought it probable that his cousin had been consoling himself for that separation by having parties on the side with Fedora. Apparently that was not the case. But what about the widow? Where was she?

Frek had known about the promise made to Bilto, but had not apparently regarded that as any part of his business. No doubt such arrangements were handled by another department of the police administration. If so, it seemed probable that she was to be produced and formally handed over at the reception, by whoever was to act as official host. Frek having said that he was not attending the lunch added to the plausibility of such a theory.

Nicholas devoutly hoped not to be there either, as it seemed certain that if he had to appear that would lead to his landing up in prison; but he already had Jirka, the barman's, unsolicited testimonial to the esteem in which Fedora was held by the Underground, and ample evidence of the strength of character she could display when she wanted anything; so he was reasonably confident that she would succeed in getting them smuggled out of the hotel.

He could not quite make up his mind if he liked or disliked her. Now that he had seen her smile and heard her laugh he thought her much more attractive than he had formerly. That pale face of hers, and her green eyes, lit up in a most extraordinary way when she was amused by anything, and the little cast in the left one held a curious fascination for him. He thought it a pity that she did not dress more smartly, as if she had given more care to her appearance and made up her face she could have pa.s.sed for a beauty; but he supposed her shortcomings in that respect were due either to lack of money, or, in view of her work, a deliberate wish to remain as inconspicuous as possible. Her obvious courage and resource were qualities calculated to appeal to any man, but her violently reactionary sentiments and her constant attempts to traduce the Workers' State, in which he so fanatically believed, made her personality unsympathetic to him.

He was still thinking about her when it entered his mind that her political beliefs were, in essence, the same as those of his beloved Wendy. It therefore seemed strange that he should find the mentality of the one girl grate upon him, while he ignored it in the other and adored her. Wendy's lovely image took possession of his thoughts, and he toyed with the idea of how marvellous it would be if, free of the danger in which they stood, she was sharing this luxury suite with him instead of Fedora. During the past three hours his brain had had such a surfeit of puzzling, guessing, wondering and straining to arrive at sound conclusions, that he allowed it to continue this most pleasant form of daydreaming until the water began to chill, resuming his anxious speculations only as he began to dress.

When Fedora got back he was still in his shirt-sleeves. He heard her quick footsteps crossing the bedroom, then she poked her head round the door and gave a smiling nod, to let him know that things were going all right. Seeing that he was nearly dressed, she came in, closed the door behind her and, putting her fingers to her lips, tiptoed over to his side. The water from his bath was still running out, and they watched it in silence for a couple of minutes. When the last of it had drained away she turned on the taps again, and said: "I've fixed it. But it's going to be pretty tricky, because you will have to attend the reception."

"Good G.o.d!" he exclaimed aghast. "I can't do that! Those old Comrades of Bilto's student days that Frek said would be there are certain to realise that I'm not him."

"I don't agree," she countered quickly. "To look at, you are quite extraordinarily like Bilto. You have a much closer resemblance to one another than most brothers; and it must be twenty years since Bilto was a student in Prague. That is a long time to remember anyone's features. In this case, too, your being younger than he is will prove an advantage, for their memory of him will naturally be as a young man."

"Perhaps you're right," he murmured uncertainly. "But what about the scientists? It's certain they will have their top boys to meet me, and I'm not an atom man. If they start talking technicalities to me I'll be out of my depth in no time. They'll smell a rat, and under cross-examination I'd be completely sunk."

"Then don't talk technicalities. Be frightfully hush-hush, and say you never discuss your work outside a laboratory."

He shook his head. "No; it's no good. There's one thing you've forgotten-that's the woman. Even if I could get past the old pals and the back-room boys, I couldn't possibly hope to deceive her."

"What woman?" Fedora gave him a puzzled look.

"Bilto's woman, of course. The one he was expecting to meet in Prague."

"Frek said something to that effect; but it didn't seem to fit in. As he handles so many cases, I thought he would have only skimmed through Bilto's dossier and had got things muddled up."

"He had. He took you for Bilto's woman. In the circ.u.mstances that was quite understandable; but if he'd gone properly into things he couldn't have, because she is a middle-aged widow and is living in Prague."

"How do you know that?"

"Because Bilto told me so. He has been in love with her for a long time and wants to marry her."

Fedora sat down on the side of the bath. For a moment she was silent, then she asked, "Are you quite certain of this? Somehow, it doesn't sound like Bilto."

"I don't know why you should think that," Nicholas replied thoughtfully. "He's quite a normal sort of chap. He had a pretty hectic youth, but I think his work has been his main preoccupation for a long time past, and now he is forty there is nothing at all extraordinary in his deciding that he would like to have a wife and proper home. About the details of the matter I'm a bit hazy, as he really said very little, but about the main facts I have no doubt at all."

"Did he definitely say that she was living in Prague?"

"No, I couldn't swear to that; but it was the impression I got. Something he said about having known her when she was first married gave me the idea that she was a girl-friend of his in the old days, Anyhow, it was a part of the deal he made on agreeing to leave England that she should be here to meet him on his arrival, and that the authorities would relieve her of the work she was doing so that they could marry and settle down."

"Are those the only grounds you have for supposing that she will be at the reception?"

"Yes. As she wasn't at the airport it seems pretty certain that they are holding her in reserve, so that the cameras can click on this touching reunion between Bilto and the love of his youth."

"Do you think they will produce a wedding-cake in advance, or present the happy couple with a set of fish knives as a token of their esteem?"

He was adjusting his collar and tie in front of the mirror, but the sarcastic note in Fedora's voice made him turn and glance down at her. With a bitter little laugh, she went on, "If so, you'd better think again. There won't be any wedding-cake or fish knives, or love of Bilto's youth either. You may put right out of your silly head any idea that you will be brought face to face with her."

"What makes you so certain of that?"

"The well-proved fact that one of the first principles of Communism is never to keep a promise. You may be right about their having dangled in front of Bilto the prospect of marrying this woman, as an inducement to get him here; but that doesn't mean a thing. She may quite well have been dead for years, or a semi-lunatic in one of their labour camps. If she is not, they will have her under arrest by now, with the intention of keeping her on ice indefinitely as a hostage to Bilto's good behaviour."

Nicholas made a grimace of distaste. "I do wish you would stop this childish mud-slinging. It doesn't impress me in the least."

"O.K., Professor." She gave a heavy sigh and stood up. "All the same, I'd bet you my last dime that you won't be called on to meet Bilto's woman when we go downstairs."

"If I do we'll be blown sky-high; but if you're right there's just a chance we may get through. I wish to goodness, though, that you had managed to fix things without my having to face such a big risk of exposure."

"So do I," she agreed. "But there was no other way. Still, it may comfort you a bit to hear that you won't have to go through the whole thing, and that we may get away before most of the guests have arrived. That minimises the danger of someone who used to know Bilto really well having any chance to talk to you long enough to realise that you're a fake."

As she was speaking she stooped down, took hold of the hem of her dress with both hands, and with one smooth movement stripped it off over her head.

"Hi!" he said. "Give me a chance to get out of here."

She shook her head impatiently. "Stay where you are, and listen to me. I've got to tell you what I've arranged; but the reception starts at midday; time's getting on and I don't want to have to go without my bath. I told the manager that you are a diabetic, and that it is part of my job to ensure that you eat nothing which might upset your metabolism. Then I asked to see the luncheon menu. That enabled me to say I'd like to see the Chef and arrange with him that one or two special dishes should be prepared for you. The Chef is a Legion man, so as soon as we were alone I was able to get down to bra.s.s tacks."