We Shall Not Sleep Read Online Free PDF Page B

was this man? The silence in the room was so intense, he could hear the faint sounds of footsteps outside in the street.
    "For the death of your parents," the man went on, watching Matthew's face. "But also because he will have a very great effect on Britain's demands at the peace negotiations, which cannot be more than weeks away now. I would estimate about the second week in November. If we make the wrong decision, we will pay for it in pain all over Europe, perhaps in a world far bloodier and more terrible than this one. Not only this generation will be lost, but our children's generation as well, with weapons we have not dreamed of yet."
    "I know!" Matthew said harshly. His chest was hurting. It was hard to breathe. The weight of grief seemed almost crushing. He remembered his father so vividly that he could hear his voice and smell the faint, familiar aroma of pipe tobacco and Harris tweed. Fragments of a dozen rambling jokes filled his mind. He was conscious of the man in the other chair watching him, seeing his intolerable hurt, and he resented it.
    "We must not let that happen," the man said softly. "And if you do not stop the Peacemaker, he will rebuild his plans to create an Anglo-German Empire out of the ashes of this war, and then there will be another war, because Europe will never let that happen. Britain at least will not. We know that now. Perhaps if we had been wiser, we would always have known it."
    "The Peacemaker—who is he?" Matthew demanded.
    "His name is no use to you without proof."
    "Then what are you here for?" Matthew knew he was being unfair, but he had waited four long, bitter years for this and seen too many good friends die by the Peacemaker's hand. To be offered knowledge at last, only to grasp it and find it a mirage, was like being openly taunted.
    "To tell you that his counterpart in Germany is willing to come through the lines and travel to England to expose him, at the cost of his own life if necessary, rather than see this holocaust descend on Europe again."
    Matthew's mind raced. Could it be true? Or was it one more chimera, another trick to obtain a final chance at destruction?
    "You have nothing to lose by bringing him through and listening to him," the man said with infinite weariness in his eyes. "We are beaten. Germany has lost more than a million and a half men on the battlefield alone. The people are starved and broken, the land devastated, the government in ruins. No one who loves Germany, and is sane, wants to see that again. Manfred will come through the lines, if you tell him where and when. But it must be soon; we have no time to debate, or to weigh and consider. If you meet him, give him safe conduct, he will come back to London and tell your prime minister of the entire plot from the beginning. You already know much of it yourself. I imagine you still have the original of the treaty, or at least you know where it is." Again it was not a question. He probably did not expect Matthew to answer.
    "What is his name?" Matthew repeated. Should he hesitate? Was there anything else to ask, any answer he could check? He was used to the double cross, the triple cross—it was the nature of his business. If this man was setting up some trap, he would carry with him at least one fact that could be checked. Its accuracy meant little. Even an amateur used one truth to disguise his other lies.
    The man hesitated.
    Matthew smiled. There was an irony in their situation, an absurdity, at this last stage with seas of blood already spilled.
    "Manfred von Schenckendorff," the man answered. "Where should he come through the lines?"
    There was only one possible answer. Joseph was in Ypres, as he had been since the beginning. He had friends there, people he could trust. "Ypres," Matthew answered. "Wherever the Cambridgeshires are. It changes from day to day now."
    "Of course.Your brother."
    "You knew he was there?" Matthew was surprised, and slightly disconcerted. This man had too much knowledge to