Be Shot For Six Pence Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: Michael Gilbert
Tags: Be Shot For Sixpence
Then she reappeared.
“Don’t tell me,” I said. “Now he does want to see me.”
As I went past her the temptation to tickle her became almost overmastering. I mastered it and walked in.
Captain Forestier got up as I came in. He did not come forward and shake hands nor did he offer me an easy chair. Not a chummy sort of man, I suspected. He had a brick red face under startlingly light, reddish hair, and light blue eyes. He was in mufti, but I am quite certain that his medal ribbons could have stretched from here to there.
“Well?”
It was a voice which had made roomfuls of recruits jump to attention.
“What about asking me to sit down?” I said.
He never batted an eyelid.
“I’ll ask you to sit down when I think you’ve got anything to say to me.”
“Don’t be silly,” I said. There was only one spare chair in the room, so I annexed it. “If you hadn’t thought that I might have something to say to you, you’d never have let me in. Little Pussykin would have told a white lie and said you were in conference.”
He flexed himself once or twice on the balls of his feet, like an athlete who’s about to go for a standing jump record, and said, “I’ll give you three minutes.”
I resisted the temptation to say, “You’ll give; me just as long as it takes.” There was no sense in annoying him unnecessarily. I said, “I’m Philip.”
“I see.” The Captain lowered himself very cautiously into his chair, as if he expected it to bite him, and said, in a very slightly less aggressive voice: “Good of you to come round. Incidentally, why here?”
“I asked your bloodhound. The second one.”
“And he told you?”
“Under duress. I threatened to report him for molesting me.”
“And was he?”
“Not actually molesting, no. But he’s been following me about all this morning. Yesterday it was your other bloodhound. The small one, with the long nose. He was much better at it. He picked me up in Printing House Square, and followed me down to Twickenham – or did he?”
“I’m afraid you walked him off his feet. He had to give up at Kew.”
“How very unenterprising. He could have taken a taxi.”
“Not across Richmond Park.”
“Provoking. So you still don’t know who Henry is.”
“I expect we shall locate him in due course,” said Captain Forestier, very smoothly. “But it really doesn’t matter now, as you had the good sense to come straight to us.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “Now suppose you tell me what it’s all about.”
“I’m afraid that’s quite impossible,” said Captain Forestier, seriously.
I controlled myself.
“Is Studd-Thompson officially involved?”
“No. And even if he had been—”
“You can trust him, but you can’t trust me. Is that it?”
“I’m sure Studd-Thompson is an excellent man in his own line,” said the Captain. “But he wasn’t in my department. He was only on loan to us, you know, from the Foreign Service.”
The way in which this was said made several things absolutely plain to me.
First, that as a dyed-in-the-wool Intelligence operative he resented having a stray character from the Foreign Service wished on to him; secondly, that Colin had already managed to put his back up; thirdly, that he regarded Colin’s advertisement as something between a howling indiscretion and actual treason; and fourthly and lastly, that he loved me not at all, but was prepared to tag along with me just long enough to see whether I was going to be a good boy or another Colin. It’s remarkable what a trained Secret Service man can give away in a couple of sentences.
“Tell me something,” I said. “I suppose this is all pretty confidential.”
He looked at me as if he hardly believed in my existence. Then he said: “You don’t know a lot about this sort of thing do you?”
“I did get mixed up in it once,” I said. “Not enough to teach me anything, except to dislike it.”
He said in a much more friendly voice: “The
“Don’t tell me,” I said. “Now he does want to see me.”
As I went past her the temptation to tickle her became almost overmastering. I mastered it and walked in.
Captain Forestier got up as I came in. He did not come forward and shake hands nor did he offer me an easy chair. Not a chummy sort of man, I suspected. He had a brick red face under startlingly light, reddish hair, and light blue eyes. He was in mufti, but I am quite certain that his medal ribbons could have stretched from here to there.
“Well?”
It was a voice which had made roomfuls of recruits jump to attention.
“What about asking me to sit down?” I said.
He never batted an eyelid.
“I’ll ask you to sit down when I think you’ve got anything to say to me.”
“Don’t be silly,” I said. There was only one spare chair in the room, so I annexed it. “If you hadn’t thought that I might have something to say to you, you’d never have let me in. Little Pussykin would have told a white lie and said you were in conference.”
He flexed himself once or twice on the balls of his feet, like an athlete who’s about to go for a standing jump record, and said, “I’ll give you three minutes.”
I resisted the temptation to say, “You’ll give; me just as long as it takes.” There was no sense in annoying him unnecessarily. I said, “I’m Philip.”
“I see.” The Captain lowered himself very cautiously into his chair, as if he expected it to bite him, and said, in a very slightly less aggressive voice: “Good of you to come round. Incidentally, why here?”
“I asked your bloodhound. The second one.”
“And he told you?”
“Under duress. I threatened to report him for molesting me.”
“And was he?”
“Not actually molesting, no. But he’s been following me about all this morning. Yesterday it was your other bloodhound. The small one, with the long nose. He was much better at it. He picked me up in Printing House Square, and followed me down to Twickenham – or did he?”
“I’m afraid you walked him off his feet. He had to give up at Kew.”
“How very unenterprising. He could have taken a taxi.”
“Not across Richmond Park.”
“Provoking. So you still don’t know who Henry is.”
“I expect we shall locate him in due course,” said Captain Forestier, very smoothly. “But it really doesn’t matter now, as you had the good sense to come straight to us.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “Now suppose you tell me what it’s all about.”
“I’m afraid that’s quite impossible,” said Captain Forestier, seriously.
I controlled myself.
“Is Studd-Thompson officially involved?”
“No. And even if he had been—”
“You can trust him, but you can’t trust me. Is that it?”
“I’m sure Studd-Thompson is an excellent man in his own line,” said the Captain. “But he wasn’t in my department. He was only on loan to us, you know, from the Foreign Service.”
The way in which this was said made several things absolutely plain to me.
First, that as a dyed-in-the-wool Intelligence operative he resented having a stray character from the Foreign Service wished on to him; secondly, that Colin had already managed to put his back up; thirdly, that he regarded Colin’s advertisement as something between a howling indiscretion and actual treason; and fourthly and lastly, that he loved me not at all, but was prepared to tag along with me just long enough to see whether I was going to be a good boy or another Colin. It’s remarkable what a trained Secret Service man can give away in a couple of sentences.
“Tell me something,” I said. “I suppose this is all pretty confidential.”
He looked at me as if he hardly believed in my existence. Then he said: “You don’t know a lot about this sort of thing do you?”
“I did get mixed up in it once,” I said. “Not enough to teach me anything, except to dislike it.”
He said in a much more friendly voice: “The