The Traitor Read Online Free PDF Page B

secret.”
    â€œOh, I’m sorry.”
    â€œThat’s all right, but don’t let’s talk about the war. Time is far too precious. Oh, Marie, if you only knew how I have looked forward to seeing you again! It was because I felt I would go mad if I didn’t hold you in my arms soon that I got them to send me across instead of another man.”
    â€œAnother man? Who was he?”
    â€œOh, he was in the regular Intelligence.”
    â€œBut how brave of you! You might have been murdered. This Paris, I am told, is full of enemy spies.”
    He laughed. With her bewitching body so near him, the thought of death was impossible. With a fresh wave of intoxication passing through him, he drew her to him again. For a time the world seemed to stand still. Then Marie disengaged herself.
    â€œYou English are so splendid,” she said, lifting a beautifully moulded hand to stroke his face. “My eyes fill with tears when I think of your sacrifices for my beautiful France.”
    If any one else had said the grandiloquent words Clinton would have smiled. As it was, there was a certain curtness in his reply.
    â€œWe gave our word and we had to keep it.”
    She embraced him.
    â€œAlan, you are so strong. How I love you when you speak like that!”
    â€œYes, yes, my dear. But now let’s be practical. Going to stay here with me to-night? But of course you will—you promised.”
    She looked at him provocatively.
    â€œDid I?”
    â€œOf course you did. Oh, Marie, you’re not going to disappoint me?”
    â€œNo, darling, I will not disappoint. I have been saving myself up for you. Yes, I will stay here to-night and we will make wonderful love. But I must return first thing to-morrow morning.”
    â€œDarling! I say,” he went on, prompted by a feeling of generosity, “wouldn’t you like to go out to a theatre or something? I hope you won’t”—laughing in an ashamed sort of way—“but I had to ask you.”
    â€œYou needn’t have. No, I want to make the most of every minute with you. I can go to the theatre when you are away.”
    He looked at her.
    â€œYou speak wonderful English, Marie.”
    She met the half-uttered suspicion unafraid.
    â€œHave I not told you?” she retorted. “I was so much in London.”
    â€œWhen was this?”
    â€œWhen I was a child—just a little girl. Do you know Hampstead Heath?”
    He laughed.
    â€œHampstead Heath? Yes, I know it very well. Good God! I can hardly imagine at this moment that such a place exists.” He put a hand up to his head. “Does it strike you that this room is getting very hot?”
    â€œHot?” she repeated. “No, I had not thought so.”
    â€œIs the window open?”
    â€œYes—why?”
    â€œExcuse me, darling.” He rose unsteadily to his feet and walked across the room. His manner was that of a man who was afraid that something was going to happen to him.
    She followed him.
    â€œSit down, my dear. You are not going to be ill?”
    â€œI hope not. I was perfectly all right until I drank that wine.”
    â€œOh,” she said, “it could not have been the wine. I had a glass myself, if you remember—and, you see, I am perfectly all right. No, something must have upset you during the journey. Soon you will be perfectly all right—and I am here to look after you.”
    Thus urged, Clinton sat down and, fired by her beauty, patted his knee.
    â€œ Marie! ”
    The girl shook her head.
    â€œNo, no more love-making for the moment. You must recover yourself. Besides, the waiter may be coming back in a minute. Put your feet up and be comfortable.”
    His speech became slurred.
    â€œThe waiter.…I—don’t—know—anything—about—the waiter—coming—back. But, of course—if—you—want anything?”
    â€œI’d like some