They Used Dark Forces

But he had seen the giant rockets, both from the distance on the ground and during several trials when they had been fired. They were, he estimated, as large as had been reported, but more than half those fired had exploded prematurely. It had not, however, been possible to judge the size of the warheads they would carry when they became operational, for these gave only a feeble bang before falling back to earth or into the sea, which showed that the charges in them had been only small ones.

His real news was about another form of secret weapon that was being developed. This was a much smaller type of rocket hat had wings and looked like a Pilotless aircraft. They also sometimes miscarried and, having circled round, nose-dived into the sea. But there were many more of them and, from their performance, Kuporovitch judged the state of their development to be more advanced than that of the larger rockets.

So that no coded message sent out might be associated with his release from the camp, they decided not to send one till he following afternoon; and when they did send it they did so from far out in the big bay to the south of Wolgast.

On Monday evening, at about half past eleven, Gregory landed Kuporovitch at Peenemьnde and watched him disappear through the gates there to face a further twelve days' gruelling ordeal.

During those days Gregory was again a prey to all those anxious frustrations felt by a wife who has seen her husband go off to the war and can expect no news of him. But on Sunday the 25th news of great importance came to him from his wireless. Owing to the success of the Allies in Sicily, Mussolini had fallen. No details were immediately available, and for some days even the bare news was suppressed by the German stations; but towards the end of the month they had to release it, while the B.B.C. reported that the Duce had been forced by the Fascist Council to resign and arrested by the order of King Victor Emmanuel.

On the morning of August 1st Gregory again collected Kuporovitch and the Russian brought with him further valuable intelligence. While working with his-group on erecting a wall of sandbags to protect a long, low building, two civilians had come out of it who, it seemed probable, were either engineers or scientists. They had halted within a few feet of Kuporovitch and stood for some minutes watching a firing trial that was in progress. When one of the small, winged rockets had been launched successfully one of the men had remarked to the other:

`At last we're beginning to get somewhere with these Pilotless aircraft and I'm told that work on the launching sites in northern France is going well. Very shortly it will be only a matter of getting the new weapon produced in large numbers. With the priority that will receive they should be able to begin the bombardment of London by the winter, or perhaps even this autumn.'

The man had, of course, spoken in German and it obviously had not occurred to him that any of the miserable-looking Russians working nearby would understand that language. But Kuporovitch's knowledge of German had greatly improved during the past two months and he assured Gregory that he was prepared to swear that he had reported correctly every word that had been said.

This news that the first of the secret weapons might become operational within the next few months was highly alarming and Gregory felt that it ought to be passed on with a minimum of delay; so he went into the cabin and put a message into code while Kuporovitch took over the boat and steered her down the creek back to Wolgast. Shortly before they reached the town Gregory had the message ready and he sent t off at once.

Kuporovitch had gone through another very hard- time,, including a stand-up fight with a big- bully in his hut who had attempted to rob him of his meagre ration. He had not yet identified any leader of the plot, but there were definite indications that one was afoot and, to keep in with his paymasters, he had reported these before leaving camp that morning to the junior S.D. officer under whom he had been placed. For the greater part of the Sunday and Monday he either ate or slept, to recruit his strength for his next twelve days of hunger and hardship. Then, on the Monday, shortly before midnight, Gregory watched him disappear for the third time through the gates at Peenemьnde.

He was due for his next release on Sunday, August 15th, and by nine o'clock that morning Gregory had the launch tied up in the little harbour, waiting to take him off. But he did not appear.

By half past, Gregory was extremely worried; then it suddenly entered his mind that Kuporovitch might have sent a message to the guard post to await, him there; so he clambered up on to the quay. Outside the post, not far from the sentry, a, sergeant and several men were lounging in the sun. Quickly Gregory questioned them, but they could tell him nothing; so he asked the Sergeant to send one of the men to fetch his officer. Five minutes later an elderly Lieutenant of the Reserve came out of the gate. He said that he knew Soldat Sabinov by sight, as the man was on a list of people allowed to pass in and out of that gate; but no message concerning him had been received.

With growing fears that some misfortune had befallen his friend, Gregory remained there until eleven o'clock, making desultory conversation with the Sergeant and explaining his anxiety by telling him that Sabinov had previously been his -servant, so he would be very upset if his failure to appear was caused by his having met with an accident. Soon after eleven he decided that it was useless to wait any longer and, returning to his boat,:, he made all speed back to Wolgast. There, at the hotel, he was relieved of his worst fears on finding a note that had shortly before been left for him. It was from Brigadier Langbahn and read:

I am sorry to tell you that your man was beaten up last night and is in hospital. But his injuries are not serious and he will be well enough for you to pick him up tomorrow. He has landed one fish for us, but there is still trouble brewing, so I shall expect him back at midnight on Tuesday.

All that day it rained heavily and Gregory spent it indoors, worrying about Kuporovitch; but when he collected him next morning, apart from a black eye and a badly bruised chin, he was in fairly good shape. '

It transpired that in the last group to which he had been allotted he had recognized-but fortunately without being recognized himself-an ex-member of the O.G.P.U. Naturally, he had had no intention of saving the Germans from riots by denouncing any conspirator who confided in him; but he knew that it would strengthen his own position if he turned one of his fellow prisoners in, and several of his brother officers who had been caught up in the Thkashevsky conspiracy had been tortured and executed owing to the activities of this O.G.P.U. man. So Kuporovitch had avenged them by reporting him as one of the leaders of the break-out plot and had seen him hauled off to torture and death by the Gestapo. Unfortunately other members of the group had suspected that it was Kuporovitch who had `squealed', so they had attempted to do him in. As he had had the sense to shout for help with all the strength of his powerful lungs, his bellowing had been heard and the guards had arrived on the scene in time to rescue him.

He had no fresh news about the secret weapons, but hoped to pick up further information during his next spell inside; and he had no special fears about returning to his highly distasteful job, because he was to be put into a different camp, to which it was believed that the trouble had spread and, of course, he would enter it under a different name. Two days'

relaxation with plenty of good food and drink fully restored him to his normal, cheerful self and, a little before midnight on the Tuesday, Gregory Landed him in front of the Peenemьnde gate.

He pushed off at once and, not having heard the news that evening, as soon as he had rounded the promontory just south of Peenemunde he stopped his engine, then began to fiddle with the knob of his wireless hoping to pick up 'a midnight bulletin from a British station. He had been trying to get the Continental wave-length only for a moment when he recognized his own call sign.

At once he pulled out his notebook and pencil, sent his number and turned the set up. The message was short and having taken it down it took him only a few minutes to decode, because by then he had memorized quite a number of the abbreviation symbols. As he worked by the light of his torch he jotted down: Tried to contact you three nights stop maximum raid on P first suitable stop withdraw stop report results if possible.

With swift concern he switched out his torch, returned the, wireless to its hiding place and turned the boat about. Somehow he must warn Kuporovitch, and they must devise some way of getting him out. Perhaps they could say that, owing to his injuries, he, needed further time to recuperate. He had been gone less than a quarter of an hour and he had a two-mile walk back to his camp. There still might be time to catch him.

At full speed Gregory drove the boat back into the little harbour and scrambled ashore. The arc lights were blazing down, so the sentry recognized him at once and made no move to fire. Running up to him, Gregory panted:

'Soldat Sabinov! I forgot to tell' him something. It's important… very important. Get him back. Send someone after him.'

The sentry shook his head. 'Herr Major, I cannot leave my post.'

`Then call your Sergeant! Call your officer!'

The man gave a shout and his Sergeant emerged from the guard house.

Urgently, Gregory repeated his request that someone should be sent after his man to get him back.

`I regret, Herr Major,' the Sergeant replied, `but I have no. authority^-to use one of my men for such a purpose.' In a second Gregory became the typical German officer who s accustomed to be obeyed without question. Drawing himself o his full height, with all the authority of his rank, he snapped, Call your officer. Instantly; or it will be the worse for you.' The Sergeant wilted. Calling another man out of the guard rouse, he, turned, took a key from his pocket and unlocked he gate. Then he said to the man, `Go and fetch the Herr Leutnant.'

A few minutes that seemed an age to Gregory went by suddenly the lights went out. In a flash he realized what that meant. It had never happened before during his seven weeks at Wolgast. It could be only because a warning had been received that an air-raid was imminent. The message had said first suitable night'. The moon was nearly full and now lit he scene faintly between drifting patches of cloud; so conditions could not have been better.

The gate was open. The Lieutenant might already be in bed. It might be ten or fifteen minutes before he had dressed and could be brought there. Meanwhile Kuporovitch was calmly walking back to the camp where within the next hour hundreds of men might lie dead. The thought spurred Gregory: to immediate action.

Thrusting the Sergeant aside he dived through the gate. '.It gave on to a curving street. Expecting any minute to be shot n the back, he pelted along it, hugging the nearest side to take the best advantage of the deep shadows now cast by the moonlight. The sentry, bewildered by the sudden switching off if the lights and taken by surprise by Gregory's abrupt action, momentarily lost his wits and forgot that he should have used his rifle. The Sergeant shouted to Gregory to halt but, also taken aback, lost a few moments before drawing his pistol. By the time he blazed off with it, Gregory was round the first bend of the street and no longer a visible target.

In less than two minutes he was out of the deserted village end running hard along an open road. As he ran he caught the drone of an aircraft engine and knew that it must be a Pathfinder coming in to mark the targets. A siren wailed, then a score of anti-aircraft batteries opened up. Streams of tracer bullets streaked the night sky and shells began to burst overhead.

By then Gregory had covered a mile. The road dipped slightly and in a depression ahead a dark group of trees stood out. The fact that by now Kuporovitch would realize' his danger and do his best to save himself did not enter Gregory's head. His one desperate thought was that before the friend who meant so much to him reached the camp he must manage to catch him up.

A dull droning was now audible from seaward. The mighty bomber fleet was coming in. In the distance, to either side of the group of trees towards which the road led, the darkness was stabbed by spurts of flame. The flashes lit up long lines of hutments and humps like giant golf-bunkers that must be the assembly shops protected by thick walls of sandbags. The Pathfinder had located his target and was dropping his markers.

Gasping for breath, but still running hard, Gregory reached the group of trees. His chest pained him terribly and he knew that his strength was flagging, yet he forced his aching legs to obey his will and thrust him on. When he was halfway through the trees the bombs began to fall.

From the sky there came a roar like continuous thunder. It was punctuated by terrific detonations. Searchlights streaked the sky in all directions. Anti-aircraft shells were now bursting up aloft at the rate of six a second. It seemed impossible that anything could live up there through such a barrage. Pieces of shell came whistling downward. An aircraft was caught like a tiny gnat in the beam of a searchlight. It was hit, burst into flames and came spiraling earthwards. In front of him, through the fringe of trees on either side of the road, Gregory could now see the camp clearly. Scores of brilliant flashes made it as bright as daylight. A dozen of the long huts were already on fire. Incendiaries were showering down and others were igniting every minute. The explosions of bombs and guns merged into a deafening drumfire.

Gregory was nearly through the cluster of trees. At the side of the road, less than a hundred yards away, he suddenly saw a figure that had previously been hidden by them. Against the glare of the blazing camp there could be no mistaking the solitary, broad-shouldered man who was standing quite still watching its destruction. With infinite relief, Gregory staggered o a stop. Then, with all the remaining strength of his lungs, to yelled:

'Stefan! Stefan! For God's sake take cover.'

Kuporovitch did not turn and through the roar of the explosions it seemed unlikely that he could have heard. Starting to run again, Gregory gave another shout.

At that moment there came a blinding flash, another and another, as a stick of bombs straddled the coppice. The trees to either side of the road swayed and crumpled. Gregory glimpsed one as, uprooted by the blast, it toppled and fell. There was no escape. It crashed directly on to him. One moment he had been running, the next he was pinned to the ground in the middle of the road. An intolerable pain shot through his body. His eyes seemed to burst out of their sockets. A terrible weight on his left leg held him captive. Even as he strove to lift his hands they flopped back slack and useless. Everything about him had gone black. The crashing of bombs and roar of guns now sounded distant, as though his ears had suddenly been plugged with cotton wool.

Through a mist of pain a thought flashed into his. brain. It was the 17^th of August. An 8 day in the 8th month. Malacou had warned him that any such day, in conjunction with his birth number 4 would prove highly dangerous to him, and particularly so in his association with Kuporovitch. Yet he had ignored that warning and been brought to the fatal date on account of the Russian's having to be a day late in coming on his fortnightly forty-eight-hour leave. Malacou lad also told Gregory that he might die in the hour of his triumph.

This, then, was it! He had had a good run for his money and Peenemьnde was being destroyed. But he had come to the end of the road. His agony then seeped away as he slipped into total unconsciousness.

8

Sentenced for Life

WHEN Gregory came to he was at first conscious only of the agony that racked his body. Vaguely he realized that he was being carried and that at every step his bearer took an intolerable spasm of pain shot from the region of his hip up towards his heart. He began to whimper and, indistinctly, he heard a voice speaking to him. But he had been temporarily deafened by the nearby explosion of the bomb that had brought the tree down upon him. He wanted to implore the man who was carrying him to stop and put him down, but he could not formulate the words. The stabbing pain increased with every step and again he fainted.

The next time he became semi-conscious it slowly penetrated his thoughts that he was lying in a shallow ditch and that someone was heaping earth upon him. He felt certain then that he really must be dead and that whoever had found him was giving him a perfunctory burial. Knowing that anyone might lose a limb yet still feel an ache in it, he told himself that agony from wounds that a body received before death must continue for a time in the consciousness of the spirit that had departed from it. Resigning himself to that conclusion, he lay still and prayed that it might not be very long before he was relieved of the ghastly throbbing that racked him. After a while the pain subsided as his mind again blacked out.

When, once again, his brain began to stir, his eyes flickered open and he saw that it was full daylight. His still pain-racked body had a weight upon it, as though he were lying beneath a dozen blankets, but his face was not covered and, as with lackluster eyes he lay gazing upwards, he saw the branches and tops of trees.

Suddenly his mind cleared. He recalled that it was a tree that had felled him. The events of the previous night flooded pack: his desperate race to stop Kuporovitch from entering the camp, the Experimental Station going up in flames. He no longer supposed himself to be dead, and the sight of the trees about him led him to assume that he was still in the coppice where he had been struck down. It seemed that someone must have found his unconscious body, carried it to a ditch and cast a light covering of earth over it. Yet why had they not; covered his face? That puzzled him; but the gnawing pain n his thigh prevented him from concentrating on the question.

For a long while he lay comatose. Then he roused again. the thought entered his mind that, although hundreds of people must have been killed in the raid, sooner or later the soldiers of the guard who had chased and found him would return to bury him properly. He must not fall into their hands. Somehow he must get away from the coppice before they came back to it.

Gritting his teeth he tried to sit up. But the pain became too agonizing and he fell back. After a time he succeeded in turning over. His arms and right leg were still sound; his left leg a dead weight, red-hot and throbbing madly. Clutching a tree root, he levered himself up on his good knee, hauling his body out from under the heap of leaves and top soil. Foot by foot, and fainting twice on the way, he managed to drag himself some twenty feet, to the side of the coppice nearest which the trees ended.

After lying there a long while he recovered sufficiently from his efforts to raise himself on his elbows and look about him. In the near distance he saw a village from the middle of which rose a church spire. To his amazement he recognized the spire as that of the church in Krцslin.

How he had got back to the mainland side of the creek he could not imagine. No guard would have brought his presumably dead body there. Perhaps he had only dreamed that he had been carried for some distance, and his subconscious will to survive had given him the strength to stagger back through the screen of trees and, undetected owing to the confusion caused by the raid, get across the creek. Yet to have done that with a smashed leg seemed impossible.

For a time his pain-racked mind rejected the problem; then as the church spires in Peenemunde and Krцslin looked much alike, he decided that it must be that of the former, but from an angle at which he had not previously seen it.

Throughout the day there were long periods during which his mind blacked out entirely. During others he strove vainly through a mist of pain to think of steps he might take which would give him some chance of survival; for he felt certain that unless he could secure help, or somebody found him, he would die there.

Twilight came and, eventually, darkness. Hours afterward, as it seemed to him, he caught sight of the beam of a torch flickering among the trees. For a long time past hiss sufferings had been added to by a terrible thirst. Now, resigned to falling into the hands of the enemy as the only possibility of receiving relief, he called feebly for help.

Footsteps came hurrying towards him, then a voice that he did not recognize cried in German:

`Here he is! Bring along the coffin.'

As the man spoke he thrust both his hands under Gregory's shoulders and began to pull him up. The pain caused by his being lifted was so excruciating that he fainted.

When he came round he was submerged in complete darkness. Now his memory of previous events returned immediately. The man who had found him had called to someone else to bring a coffin. By feeling about with his hands he realized that he was lying in one; then, with a gasp of relief, that he had not yet been buried, for the coffin was jolting and evidently being taken somewhere.

Panic seized him. His having called for help had shown that he was not dead. Yet the fiends of the Gestapo were capable of anything. Perhaps they meant to lower him into a grave while still alive. Frantically, with clenched fists, ignoring the increase of pain it caused him, he began to hammer on the coffin lid and plead to be let out.

The coffin lid was not nailed down, so lifted a little as he pounded on it. But his cries were feeble and were not heard. His effort caused him to swoon, but he soon came round and frantic thoughts again seethed in his brain. Perhaps, since he id fainted when half-lifted, the man had thought that he was ready in extremis and had then died. If so, he was probably being taken to a cemetery for proper interment. But why could the Nazis trouble to do that with his body when, as the result of the bombing, they must have so many of their own dead to look to?

So far, during his periods of semi-consciousness, he had been thinking of himself as an Englishman and British agent. Now it occurred to him that he must still be wearing the uniform of a German Major, and there was no reason to suppose that the men who had found him should believe him to be anything else. If that were so they would regard him as one of their own casualties and, most probably, were about to give him a respectable burial. There was, then, still a chance that then they reached their journey's end he might get himself taken to hospital.

Hopes and fears continued alternately to agitate his bemused and. The rocking and jolting of the coffin had the same effects if someone were constantly pummeling his injured thigh and, crazed by pain, his mind wandered from the present to scenes of the past.

After what seemed an eternity the vehicle on which he was came to a standstill. He caught the sound of footsteps on boards near the coffin and the lid was taken off. Dimly he realized that was still night, for a torch was shone down into his face, blinding him. It had been very hot in the coffin and, as he felt he cool air on his face, he knew that it was damp with sweat; so he must be running a high fever. A hand was eased into his tunic to feel his heart, then a gruff voice said:

`Holy Virgin be praised! He has survived the journey.'

In normal circumstances he would have been certain that it was Kuporovitch who had spoken; but his last glimpse of his, friend had been in silhouette against the glare of the burning camp on Usedom, so he believed himself to be the victim of hallucination. His right arm was lifted. By the light of the torch he saw that the sleeve of his tunic had been cut away. He felt the jab of a hypodermic needle and in another few moments lapsed back into unconsciousness.

For a long while, each time he came out of his drug-induced stupor, he dimly realized that he was shouting in delirium, then the kindly needle sent him off again. When at last he opened -his eyes with a clear mind he gradually took in the fact that he was in bed in a vaulted stone-walled chamber. As he feebly raised a hand he heard a movement beside him, then Kuporovitch's face came into view above his.

`So, my poor friend, you are conscious once more,' murmured the Russian. `St. Nicholas and all the Saints be thanked. For the past week I have feared you would die, but now you will turn the corner.'

Gregory strove to reply but could only mumble and the excruciating pain again shot up from his thigh to his heart. Kuporovitch gently raised his head, gave him a soothing drink then, with another injection, sent him off.

During the three days that followed he awoke several times to lucid intervals,, his powers of comprehension increasing with each. On every occasion he found Kuporovitch beside him and gradually learned from him what had taken place after he great raid on the fatal 17th August.

His friend had heard his last shout, turned and seen him struck down by the falling tree. Only the Russian's great strength had enabled him to lift the splintered trunk from Gregory's body. Finding that he was still alive, Kuporovitch had carried him back up the road, then left it and entered the belt of trees that screened the interior of the island from the creek. The confusion resulting from the raid, and the fact that the arc lights had been switched off, had enabled him to get Gregory through the wire fence unobserved. By a dispensation of Providence it had been low water in the creek, so he had been able to cross it by the nearest ford. On his early reconnaissance of the mainland bank one of the places he had marked down as an emergency hideout had been a group of trees not, far from Krцslin. Almost exhausted, he had got Gregory there, then taken an hour to recover from his terrible exertions and consider their situation.

His first idea had been to walk into Wolgast and get help, but it had suddenly struck him that Gregory must have left his boat on the far side of the creek, so in the morning it, was certain to be discovered. Sooner or later the wireless would be found in it. When that happened the Germans would swiftly put two and two together. They would jump to it that Major Bodenstein and his servant, Janos Sabinov, had been spies and it was messages sent by them that had brought about the raid on Peenemьnde. The whole police network in northern Pomerania would then start buzzing like a hornets' nest with imperative orders to hunt them down and, if Gregory were in a hospital, he would promptly fall into the hands of the Gestapo. Yet with him lying at death's door it was-out of the question to remain in hiding and hope later to slip safely out of the district.

Kuporovitch had then decided that the only hope for Gregory was to leave him there and try to get help from Sassen; so, the better to conceal him from any passer-by, before setting off he had partially buried him.

On reaching Wolgast he had found that the marshalling yard there had also been bombed and that part of the town was in flames. Skirting it he had reached the road to Greifswald and after a while got a lift in a lorry that took him through the barrier and to the town. From Greifswald he had somehow managed to walk the seven miles to Sassen, arriving there at seven o'clock in thee morning. Taking great precautions against being seen by anyone, he had gone to the ruined Castle. There he had found Malacou up and, by his own mysterious means, already acquainted with a general outline of the situation.

The doctor had given him a potent draught that had temporarily restored him, and they had consulted on what best to do. Their decision had been that the following night Kuporovitch should accompany Willi von Altern in the lorry back to the coppice near Krцslin and pick up Gregory. Owing to the chaos caused by the raid, the Russian thought it unlikely that the wireless would be discovered during the course of the day. Unless it was, the hunt for them would not start immediately so his pass for going to and fro through the barrier would still be good that night, but he had been quick to see that to the plan there was another danger. Although Willi was half-witted, he might later give away having brought Gregory back to Sassen.

Malacou had got over that hurdle by saying that people whose brains were in such a state were very easy subjects to hypnotize; so he would send for Willi and while talking to him about some farm matter put him under. He could then be made to forget permanently everything that took place during the next twenty-four hours.

There remained the problem of getting Gregory back to Sassen through the barrier, as it would have later proved their undoing if it were recorded at the guard post there that Major Bodenstein, suffering from wounds that made him incapable of escaping from the district, had been brought out in the Sassen lorry. That problem had also been solved by Malacou thinking of the coffin. For a dead body no pass would be required and, well lined, a coffin would serve just as well as a stretcher. He had added that Willi while under hypnosis could be made to knock up a rough one during that evening.

Their plan being settled, Kuporovitch had fallen into a sleep of exhaustion. In the evening the doctor roused him for a hearty meal and gave him morphia and a hypodermic to take with him. After dark he had set off with Willi. At the barrier he had had some anxious moments, but all had gone well. On reaching the coppice he had been terribly afraid that he would find Gregory dead and, on finding him gone from the shallow grave, had feared that he must have been stumbled upon and carried away by the Germans.

But Willi had heard Gregory's cry for help so had been the first to reach him and had foolishly tried to lift him up before Kuporovitch could give him an injection. That its effects had worn off during the latter part of their journey, Malacou said later, must have been due to the acuteness of his pain having pierced his consciousness; but otherwise everything had gone according to plan.

In the early hours of the morning they had cut off his clothes in the room in the ruin now used as a kitchen, and on the table there his terrible wound had been cleaned and bandaged up by he doctor. They had then carried him to an upstairs room, the roof of which' was still sound, and Kuporovitch had remained here with him ever since.

Gregory also learned that the raid on Peenemьnde had proved an outstanding success. Hauff had let it out to Khurrem that the Germans estimated that the better part of six hundred bombers had been employed in the raid. They had come in accompanied by a force of Mosquitoes that had bombed Berlin and the Germans had been deceived into thinking that the whole air fleet had dropped its bombs there. But, a little short of the capital, the Lancaster’s had swung north, passed over Rьgen island, then come in from the sea and swooped on Peenemunde, coming down to eight thousand feet to make certain of their targets. The German night fighters had intercepted them on the way back and had shot down forty aircraft, but the havoc caused by the raid had been terrible. Many hundreds of the labour force in the crowded hutments had been wiped out or burned to death, scores of German technicians had been killed or wounded, the whole Station was a shambles and it would be impossible to resume work there for many months.

About Hauff himself there was also news. On the night of the raid his wife had died. His account of the matter was that the sound of the distant raid had reached him just as he was going to bed. Looking out of a window he had seen the fierce glow in the sky and realized that Peenemьnde was being attacked; so he had gone downstairs, got out his car and driven into Greifswald in case his S.S. unit there should be required to give help in the emergency. When he had got home the following morning he had found his wife at the bottom of the stairs with her neck broken.

Normally, being a chronic invalid, she rarely left her room; but it was assumed that, frightened by the roar overhead of the returning aircraft, and the firing of an anti-aircraft battery stationed not far away, she had thought she would be safer on the ground floor of the farm or, perhaps, had gone down to make herself a cup of coffee, but had tripped at the top of the stairs and fallen to her death.

Recalling what Khurrem had told him about Hauff's designs on herself and the Sassen estate, Gregory thought it by no means improbable that the Sturmbahnfьhrer had suddenly decided that the raid provided a good opportunity for him to rid himself of his unwanted wife. However, Kuporovitch went on to say that but for Hauff they might by now be in the clutches of the Gestapo.

On the third day after the raid the wireless had been found in Gregory's boat, with the anticipated results. A description of them both had been issued and a big reward offered for their capture. Oberfьhrer Langbahn had arrived at the Manor with a carload of his S.D. thugs and everyone there had had to submit to hours of questioning.

The farm people could say only that they had had no reason whatever to suspect that Major Bodenstein was not a genuine Rhinelander or his servant a simple pro-German hilfsfrei williger from some part of Czechoslovakia. Willi stated that owing to his war injuries his memory had become extremely "faulty but he could recall nothing suspicious about the two men. Malacou had sworn that Gregory had shown all the symptoms of a man a afflicted with heart trouble, Khurrem had declared that he must have undoubtedly known her late husband when he was Military Attach in Turkey as otherwise he could not possibly have imposed upon her; and all concerned indignantly repudiated the suggestion that they had knowingly harbored enemies of the Reich.

Nevertheless, the angry Oberfьhrer would have had them carted off to a concentration camp had not Hauff been present end seen his plan for marrying Khurrem about to be ruined. He had swiftly intervened and pleaded with his superior. Knowing Khurrem so well, and of her father's voluntary work at the clinic, he was able to vouch for their patriotism and his offer to be personally accountable for their future activities had been accepted.

No- one on the farm, of course, had the least reason to suspect that Gregory and Kuporovitch had returned to Sassen and were living in the ruin; so they could now consider themselves safe there until Gregory was fit enough to leave.

When he asked Kuporovitch if he had any idea when that might be possible the Russian sadly shook his head. `Alas, my poor friend, it will be many weeks; perhaps months. Every day Malacou comes up here to see you and dress your wounds. He does so always at times when he knows you to be unconscious from the dope he gives you. But his report on you fills

me with distress. The tree-trunk that struck you down fractured your left thigh and it is a compound fracture. He thinks that there is little chance of your regaining the full use of that leg until after, Christmas.'

Gregory gave a heavy sigh. `I suppose I'm lucky to be alive; and that I am is certainly due to your courage and loyalty, Stefan. But Christmas is four months off; so you mustn't remain here all that time. Malacou will look after me; so you've no need to worry that you won't be leaving me in good hands. You must return-to England and give them the good news of what our bombers did to Peenemьnde:

Kuporovitch laughed. `You are becoming delirious again, dear friend. Reconnaissance 'planes will tell them that better than I could; and wild horses could not drag me from your side. Come now, it is time for me to give you another injection and so relieve your pain.'

It was their first long conversation and it had taken a lot out of Gregory. For some days past the acute pain that had caused him to groan with every movement had subsided to a dull ache, but it was nagging at him badly now, so he submitted without argument.

The next day Malacou came up to see him during one of his spells of full consciousness. For a while they talked of the raid and the events that had followed it. Then Gregory asked the doctor about his prospects.

Malacou replied gravely, `Your leg was completely crushed; so it will be a long time before you can get about again. Most fortunately there was no indication of gangrene setting in, so the question of trying to save your life by amputation did not arise. You are over the worst now and should soon be able to consider yourself convalescent. But you must be very patient and put your faith in me.

`Owing to my studies of the Microcosm, the human body is, to me, an open book. I need no X-rays to inform me of the exact extent of your injuries; and how, in relation to the Macrocosm, the most favourable influences may be brought to bear on their alleviation. Each part of the body comes under the influence of one of the signs of the Zodiac. The thighs are the province of Sagittarius the Archer-and by correlating

the hours in which I treat you with those when that sign is in the ascendant we shall ensure your full recovery.

`But I must warn you of one thing. I have never practised more than minor surgery, so I could not undertake to operate upon you. Yet there is no way of restoring your leg to near normal except by an operation. It would, too, have to be a major one, as your femur is fractured in several places. It should be reset by an expert and strengthened with plating; but, placed as we are, there is no competent surgeon whom I could call in without the certainty that it would lead to you and all of us being arrested by the Gestapo.'

Having contemplated this most unpleasant piece of information for a few seconds, Gregory asked, `When my leg has healed will it hamper me very much in getting about?' `I fear it will. For many weeks it will bear no weight; so you will have to use crutches. Later, well…' Malacou sighed,… it would be no kindness to give you false hopes about the future. You will always have a limp-and a bad one. Your left leg will be three or four inches shorter than your right. Still worse, it will be twisted with the knee turned a little outward. These distortions will, in due course, affect your spine, so that when standing up you will be bent forward and sideways.'

Gregory gave a sudden bitter laugh. `So I'm to become a human crab, eh?'

The doctor nodded. `I'll not dispute your comparison. But, remember, you are very lucky to be alive.'

`So I gather. And I certainly agree that to call in a German sawbones would be asking for all of us to be lined up opposite firing-squad-or worse. Well, there it is. I suppose I'll have make up my mind to becoming an unsightly cripple.' They fell silent for a moment, then Malacou said, `One other thing. For the past eleven days I've been drugging you very heavily so that you should remain unconscious when I dressed your wound. But now you are over the worst I must reduce the size of the injections. That means I shall have to cause you considerable suffering; unless, that is, you are willing agree to my putting you under hypnosis.'

Gregory considered the suggestion for a moment, then he shook his head… `Thanks, Doctor, but I've always had a prejudice against surrendering my will to anyone, so I think I'll put up with the pain.'

Malacou shrugged. `Just as you wish. But think it over. Hypnosis is now recognized by the medical profession as perfectly legitimate treatment; and the less you suffer the quicker your recovery will be. You can always change your mind.'

Kuporovitch rarely left Gregory's side and had stood silently by listening to the conversation. When the doctor had gone the Russian did his best to console his friend for the sentence that had been passed upon him. But there was little he could say to lighten Gregory's gloom.

On the three days that followed the injections were reduced; so that on the fourth, when Malacou dressed Gregory's wound, he was not fully under. With the further reduction of the drug he remained conscious through those gruelling sessions, and woke each day to spend hours dreading them. But in other respects he steadily gained ground. The hunchback Tarik was an excellent^- cook and, tempted by the attractive little dishes he produced, Gregory's appetite greatly improved. He also became able to talk without each breath he drew hurting and, for short periods, he managed to take his mind off his wretched situation by reading for a while books that the doctor brought him.

It was on September 7th that Kuporovitch sprang a sudden unwelcome surprise on him… That evening the Russian said, `Dear friend, I have been thinking. Now that three weeks have elapsed since your calamity there is no longer any fear of your having a relapse. While your life was in danger you know well that nothing would have induced me to leave you. But you will have to remain here for a long time yet. You are safe here and well looked after. Others will perform for you the small services that are all you now require; so would you think very badly of me if I attempted to make my way home?

'Of course not, Stefan,' Gregory replied, endeavouring to force a smile. 'No-one could have a more loyal friend. Had you not stuck to me on that ghastly night I'd be a rotting corpse by now. The hunchback will do all the chores that you've been doing and I've lots to read. Naturally, I’ll miss you terribly; but it would be absurd for you to remain here kicking your heels for another three months or more. Of course you must go home. In a way I'm glad you have decided to, because it's three weeks since we've been able to communicate with London, and Erika and Madeleine, not to mention dear old Pellinore, must be getting very worried about not hearing from us. Have you thought of any plan yet for getting out of this damned country?

'No,' Kuporovitch shook his head, `I wished to obtain your agreement first; then I thought we might talk it over with. Malacou.'

`You're right… He's a wily old bird. I'm sure he will produce some good ideas that will help you to evade trouble on your journey.'

For some while they discussed the project, then Kuporovitch settled Gregory down for the night, undressed and got into the bed that had been fixed up for him in one corner of the room.

Now that Gregory was being given only a sedative at night, when its first effect had worn off he was subject to long periods of wakefulness. That night he lay awake for hours, thinking of Kuporovitch's imminent departure. He knew well enough that it was quite one thing to display high courage, exceptional endurance and devotion to a comrade during periods of emergency; and quite another to continue for weeks on end, cooped up, bored to tears and sticking it only because that seemed to be the right thing to do. So he felt that he could not blame his friend for leaving him, but he knew that when the lovable and ever-cheerful Russian had gone a desperate loneliness would be added to his other miseries.

Next day, when Malacou came to dress Gregory's wound, Kuporovitch told the doctor of his decision. Instantly the tall, dark-faced master of the ruin swung round upon the Russian. His black eyes flashed, his big, hooked nose stood out like an eagle's beak as he thrust forward his head and his full red lips trembled with anger.

`You'll do nothing of the kind,' he declared harshly. `You must be mad even to think of such a thing. Do you wish to have us all stripped and bleeding in one of the Gestapo torture chambers? Three months here has made your German fairly fluent. But you could never pass as a German. And the papers you brought with you are now your death warrant. You'd not bet twenty miles before you were halted and asked to give an recount of yourself. Within a matter of hours they would be flogging you with their steel rods and pulling out your toe-nails. No-one can stand up to that sort of thing. Despite yourself, you would give us all away. No! No! You will put this crazy idea out of your head and remain here looking after our invalid.'

It had already occurred to Gregory that if Kuporovitch were caught he might bring disaster on them all, but he had not wished to appear to be taking advantage of mentioning such a possibility as a means of dissuading his friend from leaving him. Now he remained silent; but he could not help feeling a reaction of selfish pleasure when the Russian looked uncomfortably at the ground and muttered:

`Pardon me. I had not thought of that. I see now that I must abandon the idea.'

The next three days were uneventful. Sweating and moaning, Gregory submitted to the doctor's ministrations. Kuporovitch continued to bring up his meals, wash him and perform the functions of a nurse. For the rest of the time he sat on his own bed in the corner, talking a little, reading a little and apparently resigned at having had to give up his project of trying to get home.

On the morning of Saturday the 11th, Gregory awoke about seven o'clock and saw that Kuporovitch's bed was empty. To that he paid no special heed, assuming that his friend had left the room for some normal purpose. Ten minutes later Malacou burst in, gave one look at the Russian's empty bed, then lifted his hands, wrung them and wailed:

`I knew it! The moment I awoke, I knew it! He is gone! He is not downstairs; he is not here! Iblis defend us from this madman. He will be caught! He will betray us. What are we to do? Oh, what are we to do?'

For the first time since they had met Gregory found himself regarding Malacou with a faint contempt. He felt no doubt that the doctor was right and that during the night Kuporovitch, ignoring the danger into which he might bring them, had slipped away. But nothing could now bring him back. The doctor's loss of control seemed lamentable and his outburst entirely futile. '

As Gregory lay looking up at the suddenly haggard face of the occultist he felt a little sorry for him, but he was far more grieved for a different reason. He took it hard that his friend had not told him of his secret intention, nor even left a written message near his pillow, bidding him good-bye.

9

Devil's Work in the Ruin

For some minutes Malacou continued to wring his hands and lament, crying:

`That accursed Russian will betray us. I know it! I know it Those black Fiends will come and drag us all to the slaughter. They’ll strip us of our clothes and hang us up by our testicles. They'll shave Khurrem's head and thrust a red-hot poker into her. Oh, woe is me; woe is me! Was it not enough that I should be born one of the afflicted race? Have I not forsworn Jehovah? Where have I Left the Path that this chastisement should come upon me?'

Lifting himself painfully into a sitting position, Gregory shouted:

`Stop that! Pull yourself together, man! it will be time enough to start squealing when the Gestapo use their rubber truncheons on you. They've not got us yet.'

Malacou abruptly ceased his wailing, stared at him and muttered, `You are right. The thought of abandoning all the aids to my work here breaks my heart. But I must make preparations to leave Sassen at the earliest possible moment. If I can reach Poland I'll have little to fear. I still have many friends there who will aid me. These Nazi swine cannot know that I lived there before the war. I still own a house in the town of Ostroleka, north-east of Warsaw. In the country districts many thousands of Jews have been left their liberty, because the Germans cannot afford to deprive themselves of the produce they grow; and my Turkish passport will protect me from molestation.'

Gregory's heart gave a sudden lurch. Obviously Malacou would not jeopardize his flight by taking with him a stretcher case and at that a man whom the Gestapo must still be hunting high and low. After a moment he asked, `Do you then intend to abandon me?'

The doctor hunched his shoulders and spread out his hands. `What else can I do? After all, it is you who have brought this terrible situation upon Khurrem and myself.'

`That is not true!' Gregory snapped back. `You brought it on yourself by having Khurrem send that message about Peenemьnde to Sweden.'

`Well, perhaps. But I must have been temporarily out of my wits to do so. I succumbed to the temptation to strike a blow against the tormentors of my race, and see where it has landed me.'

`Damn it, man! How can you stand there now and bleat to me that the risk you must have known you were taking was not worth while? Between us we have succeeded beyond our wildest hopes. Tens of thousands of your people have died without the chance to avenge themselves on a single Nazi. If we have to give our lives that's a small price to pay for the destruction of Peenemьnde.'

`But I do not want to die,' Malacou wailed, beginning to wring his hands again. `I have work to do; work of great importance. That I must leave you here distresses me greatly. But why should I stay here to be tortured and murdered with you when I still have a chance to escape?'

As Gregory could not yet even move from his bed he needed no telling that his only possible chance of saving his own life lay in persuading the doctor to remain at Sassen. If Malacou left it was certain that he would take Tarik, as well as Khurrem, with him. That meant that if Kuporovitch succeeded in getting away and the Nazis did not arrive to find the long sought Major Bodenstein abandoned there, he would suffer a lingering death from thirst and starvation. He wondered grimly how Kuporovitch would feel about it if he ever learned the terrible fate that had overtaken his friend as a result of his decision to try to get back to England. Knowing that he was fighting for his life, Gregory racked his wits for a way to make Malacou change his mind. Suddenly one came to him and he said

`If you leave me here you are going to die anyhow. I'll see to that. By telling me of your plan to go to Poland you've played into my hands. Directly the Gestapo boys get here I'll tell them where you've gone.'

Malacou's dark face paled. `No! No!' he gasped. `You wouldn't do that. Think of all I have done for you.'

`What you've done won't cut much ice if you leave me here to die of starvation.'

A sudden evil gleam showed in the doctor's black eyes and he shook his head. `You forget that you are at my mercy. I'd have no difficulty in seeing to it that you were dead before the Nazis got here.'

At this checkmating of his threat Gregory drew in a sharp breath. Then he exclaimed, `So you'd go to those lengths, eh? To save yourself you'd even murder a man who is your ally?'

For a moment Malacou continued to glower at him, then he muttered, `To do so will save you from torture; and, as you hold this threat over me, I see no alternative.'

`There is an alternative,' Gregory retorted with assurance. `All this time you have been taking it for granted that Kuporovitch will be caught. But if he is not you have nothing to fear. And unless he's very unlucky I've little doubt that he'll succeed in getting away.'

`You cannot really believe that.'

`I do. His mild, happy-go-lucky nature is very deceptive. I've worked with him for months in Paris and other places, right under the noses of the Nazis. He is as cunning as a weasel, up to a hundred tricks and completely ruthless. If anyone gets in his way he'll kill him without the slightest compunction, and he possesses remarkable endurance. You have only to recall his extraordinary feat of getting me away from Peenemьnde.'

`You may be right, but I dare not risk it.'

Suddenly an inspiration came to Gregory and he said, `Listen. Before you set about murdering me, or exciting comment at the Manor by making arrangements for your flight, why not go downstairs and consult the oracles? You can't have lost your faith in the stars and that horoscope of Kuporovitch that you drew up. Surely if there really is any basis for your beliefs you could find out what his chances are.'

Slowly Malacou nodded. `Now you speak sound sense. There are many reasons for my wishing to remain here if I can do so in safety.' Turning, he picked up from the bed a pair of pyjamas he had lent the Russian and added, `I can psychometrize these. Together with his horoscope that should tell me what we want to know.'

As he left the room Gregory relaxed on his bed with a sigh of relief. Yet he knew that he was still under suspended sentence of death. His thigh began to pain him, but his mind was so filled with apprehension that he was fully conscious of the throbbing only now and then. An hour dragged by and the better part of another; then Malacou entered the room again.

His dark, hooded eyes now looked tired from the efforts that he had made to concentrate, but his face was no longer grey with fear. Passing a hand wearily over his thick black grey-flecked hair, he said in a toneless voice:

`I have done it. And the omens are favourable very favourable. Today is the 11th and he could not have chosen a more propitious date. Not only is he ruled by the. 2, but he was born on an 11th. Moreover, his two best days of the week are Sunday and Monday; therefore astral influences should continue to protect him tomorrow and the day after. His horoscope bears out what you say about his endurance, courage and resource; so with three fortunate days before him there is very good reason for hoping that he will get away from the district without accident. But probably not without a fight. I saw newly spilled blood in connection with him; and in some way he becomes involved with a servant of Mercury-perhaps a postman-but in what way I could not determine.'

`Then,' Gregory asked eagerly, `you are prepared to stay here?

'Yes. For me to leave Sassen now would be to fly in the face of the omens. My own stars predict an uneventful period for me for some months to come. Besides, I have re-examined your horoscope and it is now much clearer to me. We are destined to work together in the future and you will be the means of saving me, probably from death.'

`I am delighted to hear it,' Gregory remarked with unconcealed sarcasm. `Perhaps, then, you will set about giving me my daily dose of hell by redressing my leg, for I couldn't save a rabbit from a snare as long as I remain like this.'

Malacou shrugged. `You have cause to bear umbrage against me for my recent conduct. But I ask you to remember that I am endowed with very different qualities from yourself. You are a man of action, whereas I am a contemplative with an unusually vivid imagination. People like myself become frightened easily and liable to be panicked into taking any steps which they think may save them from physical pain. You have great fortitude, whereas I '

`God knows I need it,' Gregory cut in bitterly. `However vivid your imagination may be, I doubt if you can realize the gyp it gives me every time you treat my wound.'

`I have a very good idea of it,' the doctor replied seriously, `and to show you that I am not altogether a coward I will, if you like, actually experience it.'

`How can you?

'By taking your pain upon myself. You must have heard of that being done by psychic people who are also good Samaritans?

'Yes, I have,' Gregory agreed. `Very well, then. You owe me something for the scare you gave me two hours ago. We'll call it quits and I'll try to forget about that if you can do your stuff on my leg without causing me any pain.'

Rolling down the sheets, Malacou set about his daily ministrations. As he removed the bandages Gregory, to his amazement, felt only a slightly increased throbbing, but the occultist began to groan. Soon he was sweating profusely. Now and then he closed his eyes and, breathing heavily, had to stop. Twice his thick red lips quivered in an abrupt cry. By the time he had done his face was again haggard and as he stepped away from the bedside tears were running down his furrowed cheeks.

Collapsing in a chair he sat there for a few minutes panting and mopping his face. When he had recovered a little Gregory said, `I'm grateful to you for that. How I wish to God someone could take my pain every day.'

Malacou grunted. `For accepting it you have only yourself ~ blame. I told you a fortnight ago that it could be absorbed into your unconscious if you would allow me to hypnotize you.^,

'And I refused.'

`To persist in doing so surprises me in a man of your intelligence. Do you not see how illogical it is to reject this method of killing pain, while being perfectly willing to let me inject you with pain-killing drugs? You would not refuse to be anaesthetized either, if you had to undergo an operation, would you?

'That's true,' Gregory said slowly, `but you are not an ordinary doctor, and Kuporovitch was convinced that you had entered into a pact with the Devil. Add to that, barely half an hour ago, you forswore your. God in front of me. I'm pretty sceptical about that sort of thing myself, but' `The Russian thinking that does not surprise me,' Malacou broke in. `They are a backward race and still greatly influenced by superstition. He, too, would be particularly imbued with such ideas, because he is subject to the Moon. Such people readily attribute every happening to the intervention of Christ or Satan. To suppose that is absurd, as people in Western Europe have come to recognize. As for my denying Jehovah, I no longer subscribe to the Jewish faith. It was only like a Protestant exclaiming "To hell with the Pope". Anyhow, you least appear to have an open mind on the matter, so I will bring you some books on hypnotism to read; then you will see for yourself that no question of good or evil enters into it.' For several days, in spite of the occultist's favourable prognostications about Kuporovitch, Gregory continued to be extremely anxious about him, but by the Wednesday it seemed fairly certain that he had got away safely and by that time could have succeeded in establishing for himself a new identity.

About the latter possibility one matter gave both Gregory and Malacou food for speculation. It was that the village postman had also disappeared. He was an elderly dug-out who had returned to duty on account of the war, a widower and lived alone. He had last been seen on Friday evening working in his garden and when he had not turned up at the village post office on Saturday morning it had been supposed that he was ill; so a girl had been sent out to do his round. As there was no delivery on Sunday, no-one had worried about his absence until Monday morning. The police had then been informed and had searched his cottage, but could find no clue to his disappearance; and no-one could suggest any reason why he might suddenly have decided to leave Sassen.

In addition to cooking and bringing up Gregory's meals, Tarik had taken Kuporovitch's place in looking after him and now helped him with certain exercises the doctor had prescribed to keep his circulation going. As he had soon learned, the hunchback always either communicated in silence with his master or spoke Yiddish to him. Apparently he knew no other language so Gregory had to indicate his wants by signs and was unable to find out whether under the man's bald cranium there lay the mind of a simple, unfortunate being or a sinister personality.

Khurrem had already visited the invalid several times and now she came to see him more frequently. But she was still obviously oppressed by her secret worries, so made anything but a cheerful companion. Gregory felt sure that her visits were due only to her wish to show appreciation of his having offered to help her if she would confide in him, but she came no nearer doing so. In consequence, when their stilted conversations lapsed, and she said that she ought to get back to the farm, he never sought to detain her.

The result was that he now spent many hours each day alone, and as pain often kept him awake at nights he became subject to terrible fits of depression about his future as a cripple. His only escape lay in reading. Before the end of the week he had got through several books in German on hypnotism and J. Mime Bramwell's great opus on the subject in English.

When, in due course, Malacou asked him how he was getting on with his reading, he replied, `I have learned quite enough to convince me that hypnotism is simply an extension of the powers of the human brain and owes nothing to the supernatural.'

The doctor showed his long teeth in a smile. `Yet you will agree that anyone who practised it a few hundred years ago could have been credited with supernatural powers? 'Yes, I don't doubt that they would.'

`There, then, you have the explanation of all these mysteries. supernatural is simply a word to express any happening that is beyond our present comprehension and magic the procuring of a result normally regarded as impossible when judged y the accepted laws of cause and effect. As more and more natural laws receive recognition, the magic of yesterday becomes the science of today.!

'That sounds perfectly reasonable; but do you suggest, then, that contrary to popular belief magic never entails calling upon the forces of evil?

'I would not say that, although, of course, from the beginning of time people have differed about what is good and what evil. There are laws governing the material plane and laws governing the spiritual plane. During the past two hundred ears many of the former have been harnessed to the great benefit of mankind-electricity, for example; and the modern wizards we term scientists take credit for new discoveries every day. But the greater part of the laws governing the spiritual plane they still refuse to recognize or investigate. To apply such laws requires the development of a person's higher being so- that he is in rapport with powers that enable him to bring about that which he wishes to achieve.'

`I see. But as spiritual powers are either of God or the Devil, that must entail becoming a priest of sorts to one or the other.' `Not necessarily. Everyone has spiritual powers within him self. A knowledge of them enables an occultist to use certain unseen forces for his own ends without attracting to himself their good or evil. Prolonged study of these mysteries has enabled me to do so.'

`Then why did you not use yours to ensure Kuporovitch's getting away safely?' Gregory asked shrewdly.

`Because my command of the unseen forces is strictly limited. Just as scientists are still only on the fringe of discovering the laws that govern the material universe, so modern occultists are still only gradually obtaining knowledge of the laws that govern the realm of the spirit. The ancients knew far more of them than we do; but when their civilizations were overrun by barbarians that knowledge was lost. We are regaining it only a little at a time by deep thought and patient experiment.'

`Your contention is, then, that such people as yourself are, in a way, scientists and that evil plays no part in occult operations.'

Malacou shrugged. `It need not do so. Naturally the supreme powers lie at the root of all things. I was seeking only to assure you that certain results that you would term "miraculous" can be achieved without calling for help upon either good or evil forces. There are ten grades of occultists, ranging from Neophyte to Ipisissimus. Only those holding the three highest ranks have passed the Abyss and so irrevocably committed themselves to follow either the Right Hand or Left Hand Path. I am no more than a Practicus, so still engaged in mastering the mysteries of the Qabalah. However, while in the lower grades I achieved entry to the Astral Plane and complete success in Asana and Paranayama, which enables me to perform many minor magics.'

`And you claim that your success in such practices owes nothing to evil forces?

'I do. Surely you do not suppose that every clairvoyant, thought-reader, hypnotist and pain-taker has entered into a pact with Satan?

'No; of course not.'

`Then why be so frightened and continue to put up with your pain when by hypnotizing you I could relieve you of it?'

For several minutes Gregory remained silent. All things considered, he decided that Malacou had made his case; so at length he said:

`Very well, then. Life will be a lot pleasanter for me if I don't have to lie here for hours dreading these daily ordeals. Let's start tomorrow.'

When Malacou came up next morning he was wearing an elastic band round his head, from the centre of which, above his forehead, there rose a circular metal mirror of the kind that doctors use for reflecting light down a patient's throat. Sitting down opposite Gregory, he told him to keep his eyes on the metal disc and to open his mind by not allowing it to follow any chain of thought.

Having taken a decision, it was against Gregory's nature to adopt half-measures in carrying it out; so he fixed his gaze steadily on the disc and as each thought drifted into his mind promptly dismissed it. As he stared at the bright metal it seemed gradually to increase in size until its light blotted out everything else and he had the sensation of being drawn towards it. Surprisingly soon he felt drowsy, his eyelids flickered a few times then fell; yet through them he was aware of a strong, rosy glow. He then felt his hand lifted and was vaguely surprised that when left unsupported his arm remained up in the air at right-angles to his body without his exerting the least effort. After that his mind became blank.

When he recovered his faculties he was again lying back in bed and Malacou was looking down on him. With a smile the doctor said, `By offering no resistance you made things easy for me. You were under for half an hour and did not make so much as a murmur. What is more I was able to lift you up and turn you round so that for a while both your legs were dangling over the side of the bed and the blood could flow more freely to them.'

Gregory returned his smile. `I didn't feel a thing. What a blessed relief to know that I haven't to suffer any more when you do my dressings. I'm very grateful to you, Doctor.'

Since Gregory and Kuporovitch had returned from Peenemьnde Malacou had, from time to time, brought them up news of the progress of the war as given out on the German radio. For the first fortnight Gregory had been too ill to take much that had happened, but he gradually caught up with events. Two days after he had been struck down the Allies had completed their conquest of Sicily; and on September 3^rd they had gone into the toe of Italy.

This news amazed and appalled him. It had seemed so obvious that the German forces in Sicily would withdraw to great natural bastion of Mount Etna on the north-east corner of the island and that, although they could be boxed there, it would take many weeks, or even months, before they could be finally subdued; so the enemy would have all that time to bring up reinforcements and prepare defensive positions across the straits in the south of Italy. And eight weeks had elapsed between the first landing in Sicily and this on the mainland. That meant for certain that the Allies must meet with fierce opposition and could have little hope of making a swift deep penetration, as could have been the case had they landed further north.

Four or five days after the Allies had crossed the Straits of Messing the Italians had broadcast an announcement that they had signed an armistice. At first it looked as if the Italian surrender would make the occupation of the country comparatively easy. But that had not proved at all the case. Instead of withdrawing the Germans had continued to hold the strong defensive positions they had prepared, and had found little difficulty in tying down Montgomery’s invading troops in the toe of the peninsula.

A few days later, the Germans had made themselves masters of Rome, then, by a brilliant exploit, snatched Mussolini in an aircraft from a high plateau on which he had been held prisoner and set him up as the head of a new Fascist Government in the north, on Lake Garda.

Belatedly, the Allies had attempted to outflank the Germans in the south by a landing at Salerno, but had failed to achieve their object. Kesselring had reacted with amazing speed and not only hemmed in their new bridgehead but looked like driving them back into the sea. Their fate still hung in the balance; and Gregory could only pray that this ill-conceived campaign-moo different from any of the proposals put forward by the British Joint Planning Staff early that year-would not bring a series of bloodbaths and disasters to the Allied Armies.

For three days Malacou continued to come each morning and dress his wound, while he remained in oblivion. On the fourth, soon after waking, he got a strong impression that the doctor would not come in the morning but in the afternoon; and that proved to be the case. When he remarked on it, Malacou smiled and said:

`This is excellent. My delay in coming to you was deliberate. I sent out that thought and you received it.'

At that Gregory felt slight alarm and replied quickly, `If my allowing you to hypnotize me is going to lead to your dominating my mind I'd prefer to put up with the pain.'

Malacou shook his head. `The transference of thoughts between two people does not lead to one dominating the other. It is an equal partnership. To prove that, I suggest that now we have achieved some small degree of rapport you should try to convey a thought to me. Tomorrow I will not come to you until you send for me.'

Gregory agreed to try out this intriguing experiment and, sure enough, having waited until midday next day, when he had been concentrating hard for some ten minutes on willing the doctor to come to him, Malacou, smiling with satisfaction, appeared.

Sitting down, he said, `I will tell you now why I am anxious that we should develop telepathy between us. The stars, as I told you some while ago, foretell that at some future time we shall again work together against the accursed Nazis. When that time comes, being able to communicate our thoughts to one another while at a distance could prove of inestimable value.'

It was impossible to dispute the immense benefit that two secret agents would derive from such an unusual advantage so, after a moment's thought, Gregory said that he was willing: to practise tuning his mind in to Malacou's. They then agreed that Gregory should memorize and transfer to the doctor certain passages from the books he was reading and that in future the doctor should endeavour to convey the radio bulletins to him by telepathy.

During the week that followed they had numerous failures, some partial successes and sufficient complete transferences to encourage them. Towards the end of the week it was clear that the rapport between them had become much stronger. Through it Gregory learned that the Germans were no longer boasting that they would annihilate the Allied force that had been clinging to the beachhead at Salerno; but, as against that, they had captured Rhodes, and as long as they held that bastion adjacent to the Turkish coast it was clear that Churchill's hope of bringing Turkey into the war on the side of the Allies must remain frustrated.

Gregory regarded that development as a major set-back, but towards the end of the month Malacou predicted that events would soon take a turn in favour of the Allies; and he proved correct. The Russians again surged forward and captured Smolensk; then on October 2nd the Germans admitted that their forces in Italy had made a `strategic' withdrawal and allowed the American Fifth Army to enter Naples.

It was on the following day that Gregory said to Malacou, `I've no wish that this game we are playing should lead to my prying into your private affairs, but yesterday when I first established rapport with you I got the impression that you were worrying about Khurrem. It's some days since she has paid me a visit. Is she, by any chance, ill?

'No; but you were right,' Malacou replied gravely. `I am greatly worried about her. As you may recall, Herman Hauff's wife was found dead the night after the raid on Peenemunde. That is now six weeks ago, and he has asked Khurrem to marry him.'

`I see,' said Gregory thoughtfully. `It's a pity that he is a Nazi; and, perhaps, a wife-murderer into the bargain. In the circumstances her dislike of the idea of taking him for a husband is very understandable. But to marry again is just what she needs to pull her together.'

Malacou rounded on him with blazing eyes and cried, `My daughter is everything to me. I'd rather see her dead first.'

A little startled by the doctor's outburst, Gregory said no more; but as the days went by he sensed that Malacou was becoming increasingly uneasy. However, towards the middle of October it transpired that it was not only about Khurrem's situation that he was worrying. After he had treated Gregory on the 15th he said

`For some days I have been greatly concerned by new portents that have arisen. I feel convinced that some revolutionary change is shortly to occur in your situation. It will not be harmful to you; but a new influence that is extremely potent is about to make itself felt here and it will be adverse to the rapport we have succeeded in establishing between us.'

More he could not say and Gregory's speculations got him nowhere; but very early on the morning of the 17th the prediction was fulfilled in a manner that he could not possibly have anticipated. While it was still dark he awoke to find Malacou bending over him. In a hoarse voice the occultist said

`The stars never lie. Kuporovitch has returned. He has dyed his hair black, thinned out his eyebrows and grown a moustache; so for a moment I did not recognize him. He comes from Sweden and with him he has brought a surgeon and a nurse.'

Gregory's mind flamed with sudden hope. `You mean… you mean to operate on me and put my leg right?

'That is what they hope to do, but it is not possible to assess the chances until the doctor has examined you.'

`Then bring him up, man! Bring him up so that he can have a look at my leg.'

`No, you must be patient for a while. He is an elderly man and they have all walked here from Grimmen, carrying their luggage. He has declared that he must sleep for a few hours before making his examination.'

`But Stefan! Kuporovitch! He would think nothing of such a midnight tramp. Bring him to me so that I can thank him. My dear, loyal friend. How could I ever have imagined for one moment that he would have left me for selfish ends?

'He and the nurse are both eager to see you. I left them refreshing themselves with a glass of wine while I came up to tell you of this strange turn in your fortunes. I will go down and fetch them.'

Five minutes later a woman in nurse's uniform entered the room. Her hair was hidden under her cap and in the dim light for a moment Gregory could not make out her features. Then his heart gave a bound. For a few seconds he thought his imagination was deceiving him. But as she smiled he knew it was no illusion. She was his beloved Erika.

Next moment she was kneeling by his bed, her arms round him, her cheek pressed to his, sobbing with happiness. Taking her lovely face between his hands, he kissed her again and again until they were both breathless. When at last she knelt back he saw Kuporovitch standing on the other side of the bed. Seizing the smiling Russian's hand he pressed it and cried:

'Stefan, you old devil! How can I ever thank you for this? I've no words to express what I feel. But how did you ever manage it? That you should have succeeded in getting back to me bringing Erika and a surgeon is little short of a miracle.'

The Russian shrugged. `Dear friend, where there's a will there's a way; and Sir Pellinore smoothed out most of our difficulties. I could not allow you to become a cripple for life if there were any possible means of saving you from such a fate. When I succeeded in reaching England Sir Pellinore agreed that no effort must' be spared to bring you aid. Erika insisted on coming too. To improve her capabilities as a nurse, until we could leave England she spent eighteen hours a day watching surgeons at work in operating theatres. Sir Pellinore arranged for us to be flown out to Sweden in a Mosquito and, no matter how, enabled us to enter Germany with Swedish passports. The rest was easy.'

'But this surgeon? If it should come out that he came here to operate on a man who is in hiding from the Gestapo the Germans will have no mercy on him. He must know that. How did you persuade him to take such a risk?'

Erika wiped the tears of happiness from her blue eyes and laughed. `Money, darling; money. Sir Pellinore gave me a cheque for ten thousand pounds and through contacts in Sweden we induced one of the best surgeons in Stockholm, a Dr. Zetterberg, to run the risk for this colossal fee.' Turning, she looked up at Malacou and added, `We felt sure that if we could get here safely, and in the middle of the night, you would agree to conceal us all in your castle.'

Malacou had stood silently by taking in most of what had been said, as, although he did not speak English, he knew enough to understand it. Now he bowed to Erika and said:

'Gnddige Frau, naturally I wish to do all I can to help you. but what you ask presents certain difficulties. This old ruin has few habitable rooms. Mr. Kuporovitch could again sleep in a bed in the corner here, but there is nowhere where I could accommodate yourself and Dr. Zetterberg for any length of time. And it would be much too great a risk for you both to live in the manor house. There is, too, the question of food. While Mr. Kuporovitch was here, Mr. Sallust was on a very light diet, so for all practical purposes I had only one extra to feed. But now he is eating well again, and to have enough food sent for four of you in would be certain to arouse unwelcome comment.'

After some discussion Malacou agreed that for a few nights they would manage somehow, then he and Kuporovitch left Erika and Gregory to delight in their reunion.

Soon after midday Dr. Zetterberg came up to make his examination. He was a tall, thin, grey-haired man with bright blue eyes and a pleasant smile. After a brief survey of Gregory's wound he turned to Malacou and said:

`As I was led to suppose, this is going to be an extremely difficult operation. I would not have consented to come here without my own anesthetist, but Mr. Kuporovitch told me he felt confident that you, Doctor, would be capable of administering an anesthetic without endangering our patient. Is that so?'

Malacou nodded, `I have given an aesthetics on a number of occasions, but as I am an expert hypnotist I would greatly prefer to put him under deep hypnosis.'

Dr. Zetterberg frowned. `To rely on hypnotism to perform an operation of this kind would be most unusual. I hardly think-'

Gregory quickly cut in, `Dr. Malacou has been using hypnosis while dressing my wound and I haven't felt a thing. May I suggest that he should put me under while you make your examination? Then you could judge his powers for yourself.'

To that Zetterberg agreed and, on finding that Gregory did not even flinch however roughly the wound was handled, he somewhat reluctantly consented to Malacou's proposal. He said that twenty-four hours would be needed to prepare Gregory, and that as the shock to the patient's system would be serious he intended to remain on there for at least four days or perhaps a week.

Malacou then told them of the arrangements on which he had decided after talking with Khurrem. Kuporovitch was to share Gregory's room, a bed was to be made up for Dr. Zetterberg in the library and, as Erika would be staying on after the doctor left, she was to live in the manor house.

At that Gregory took alarm For Erika's safety, but Malacou reassured him. Her passport described her as Frau Selma Bjornsen. Khurrem was giving out to the servants that an old Friend of hers from Sweden was coming to stay with her for some weeks and the train by which she was arriving would not reach Grimmen till late that evening. As it was now dark early Khurrem could leave the house in her truck about six o'clock, but instead of driving in to Grimmen she would pick Erika up outside the ruin soon after seven and take her to the Manor in time for the evening meal.

Usually Gregory slept for a good part of the afternoon, but that day he was far too excited to think of sleep and Erika sat with him until it was time for her to leave. Kuporovitch then took her place and told Gregory about his escape.

He had made his way without difficulty to Kiel, stowed away in a small coastal steamer that plied up and down the Little Belt and, in seaman's clothes that he had stolen from a locker, slipped ashore after dark at the little port of Aabenraa, in Denmark.

Being one of the smallest countries in Europe, Denmark had been able to offer only a token resistance to the Germans when they had invaded it in 1939. Its population was by habit law abiding and, strategically, the peninsula could be ruled out as a base for an Allied invasion; so the Nazis anticipated no trouble there. Having taken over its military establishments and put in representatives empowered to squeeze the country as far as possible of its natural products, they had, thereafter, left it more or less to run itself. Perforce, in major matters, the Danes did what they were told; but, having centuries of tradition as a free people, they bitterly resented the overlord ship that had been thrust upon them. In consequence, whenever possible both police and people willfully obstructed the Germans in their searches for Jews who had fled from Germany, escaped prisoners of war and deserters.

In crossing to the west coast Kuporovitch had avoided all towns and inns, and it was as a deserter that he had posed at the lonely farms at which he had taken shelter. His story had been that he was a Latvian seaman whom the Nazis had forced to serve in one of the auxiliary vessels of their Baltic Fleet, but when his ship had put into Kiel for a refit he had managed to get away, and he was now hoping to get employment in a North Sea fishing trawler till the war was over.

On reaching Esbjerg he had gone north from the city for a few miles to the village of Hierting, and there taken lodgings with a pretty young widow. Quite soon they had been on such intimate terms that he had felt it safe to confide the truth to her. In all the occupied countries, as long as the Germans were gaining victories resistance had been almost negligible and confined to acts of defiance by brave individuals here and there; but when the tide began to turn, bringing hopes of freedom, resistance groups had sprung up in them all and soon coalesced into powerful secret organizations. After cautious probing among her friends, Kuporovitch's pretty widow had succeeded in putting him in touch with a local group leader. A fortnight later he had been got away in a fishing trawler that had escaped from the German guard-boat in a fog, and had landed at Hull.

Having congratulated him on his exploits, Gregory asked casually, `And what did you do with the village postman?'

Kuporovitch sadly shook his head. 'Ah, dear friend, that was a most distressing business. I realized, of course, that he was certain to be missed. But he was quite old, you know. Life could not have held much more for him. And, after all, had we met on a battlefield in the first Great War when he, too, was no doubt a soldier, I should almost certainly have killed him then. Let us look upon it that the good God saw fit to grant him an extra twenty-five years of life. You see, I had to have his uniform, his bicycle and his letter sack. No policeman ever asks to see a postman's papers. But let us say no more about it; the subject is a painful one to me.'

Gregory refrained from comment. Every hour of every day the Nazis were doing far worse things than rob old men of the last few years of their lives, and he felt that it was not for him to call in question any act that might help to strangle the hydra-headed monster that Hitler had created. The great thing was that Kuporovitch had both got away and had brought him the aid which might enable both of them to fight another day.

After a moment the Russian went on, `There is one thing I must tell you. When I left you before it was to bring you help. Now, when Dr. Zetterberg goes, I intend to leave again with him.'

`But Stefan!' Gregory exclaimed, `what about Erika? I'm not thinking of myself but if there is trouble I'm in no state to protect her.'

`C'est vrai; c'est vrai,' Kuporovitch nodded. `I thought long about that. But she is a German, so knows the ropes in this country, and she is as agile-minded as either of us. She should be safe here at Sassen and with the Swedish passport she is carrying she could return to Sweden without difficulty at any time she wishes. I have discussed the matter with her and she insists that I should go. You see, after this operation it will be many weeks before you are fit to travel; and, although I play pleasant games with other women, I adore my little Madeleine. Early in January she is going to have a baby, and I must not risk not being with her at such a time.'

`Of course you mustn't,' Gregory agreed immediately. Then he laughed. `Somehow, Stefan, I've never thought of you as a father. But I'm sure you'll make a good one. Congratulations and the very best of luck.^- Don't worry about Erika and myself; we have little to fear as long as we remain at Sassen. And give my fondest love to Madeleine. Tell her I'll be thinking of her.'

Kuporovitch stroked the little moustache he had grown, then produced a cardboard folder from his pocket. `Merci, won vieux. As you say, you should be safe while here. The Jew's life hangs on his protecting you from discovery. And although dislike and fear the man, and was most unhappy to find that you had allowed him to hypnotize you, I respect his knowledge and shrewdness. But when your leg is sound enough for you to walk you've got to get home; and I've thought of that. Here is a Swedish passport. Assuming you will return with Erika we had it made out in the name of Gunnar Bjornsen; so that you could pass as her husband.'

'Stefan, you think of everything,' Gregory smiled, taking the passport and putting it with his wallet in the drawer of a little bedside table that had been found for him. `For what you have done for me I'll never be able to repay you.'

The Russian shrugged. `Parbleul Think nothing of it. I know that you would have done as much for me.'

On the following afternoon a stout trestle table was brought in. Gregory was lifted on to it, Malacou put him into a deep trance and the operation was performed. His thigh bone had been so badly crushed that it proved even more complicated than the Swedish surgeon had expected and the patient had to be kept under for four hours before the operation was completed. Dr. Zetterberg was grey-faced and sweating when he handed his blood-stained rubber gloves to Erika and said:

`If his system survives the shock, in time he should regain the full use of his leg. He will limp, of course; but the degree of his limp will depend on how soon he puts weight upon his leg. He will be well advised if he refrains from attempting to walk without crutches for at least two months.'

For three days Malacou allowed Gregory to emerge from hypnosis only for brief intervals. Each time after doing so he soon ran a high temperature, and it was evident that he was hovering between life and death. On the evening of the fourth day Malacou brought up a copy of the Sephirotic Tree on ancient parchment and, while Kuporovitch watched him with extreme antipathy and Dr. Zetterberg with ill-concealed cynicism, he hung it up over the head of Gregory's bed. Erika remained in the background, her fine features drawn with anxiety, but her expression noncommittal.

This diagrammatic representation of the mysteries of the Cabbala consisted of a diamond-shaped framework carrying ten circles in each of which were inscribed Hebrew characters. Pointing at it, Malacou said:

`Behold the Key to all Power, from the Beginning unto the End, as it is Now and shall Be for Evermore. The symbols in the lowest circles represent the Kingdom and the Foundation. Those above, Honour and Virtue. Proceeding upwards, Glory, Dominion, Grace, Intelligence, Wisdom and, finally, the Crown. By these I shall conjure the entities untrammeled by flesh to spare our brother to us.'

Exchanging glances of embarrassment Kuporovitch and the Swede withdrew, but as Malacou began to genuflect in front of the Tree and murmur Hebraic incantations Erika knelt down. The first great love of her life had been a charming, gifted and highly intelligent Jewish millionaire,, and she had come to respect his beliefs. It was his having been taken to a concentration camp that had caused her to denounce the Nazis publicly and she would have shared his fate had she not been the daughter of a Bavarian General and a friend of Goering, whose influence had saved her.

The following morning there could be no doubt that Gregory had taken a turn for the better. He was no longer sweating and his temperature had dropped to near normal. On the sixth day after the operation the surgeon expressed himself as satisfied with Gregory's state and he was sufficiently recovered to say good-bye to his loyal friend Kuporovitch. After dark that evening Khurrem drove the Russian and Dr. Zetterberg to Grimmen.

Before the operation Gregory had been putting on weight, but it had taken a lot out of him, so for the next fortnight he was again in a very low state and made only slow progress.

For appearances' sake Erika had to pass a good part of her time with Khurrem, but the pretence of going in the afternoons for long, solitary walks enabled her to spend a few hours every day with. Gregory. During them she often read to him and always brought him such war news as came in. The Russians were still advancing and had taken Kiev, but the Allies were making little progress against the tough resistance of the Germans in southern Italy.

Sometimes they talked of Khurrem and her unhappy state. She was still drinking heavily and Herman Hauff continued to press her to become engaged to him. It was Erika's opinion that Khurrem might have agreed had it not been for her father. The mutual interest Khurrem and Hauff shared in running the farm efficiently made a bond between them and there was no proof that Hauff really had murdered his wife. Admittedly he was a Nazi, but in other respects he was not a bad fellow and, as Erika pointed out, Khurrem's husband had also been a Nazi.

She was also inclined to believe that, quite apart from the question of Hauff, Khurrem's unhappiness was in some way due to her relations with her father. He unquestionably dominated her completely, yet he made no attempt to stop her drinking. Erika was convinced too that in spite of all that Malacou was doing for Gregory his influence was a sinister one, and although she tried to conceal it, she found it difficult to hide her growing aversion to him.

Her instinctive feeling that Malacou was an evil man caused her to worry about his hypnotizing Gregory, when dressing his wound, and she tried to dissuade him from continuing to practise thought transference with the doctor. But by that time Gregory had developed the power to an extent that enabled him even to hold short conversations with Malacou by telepathy; and he was so fascinated by his progress that he would not agree to give up these intriguing sessions.

By mid- November he was again able to sit up and his new wounds had healed sufficiently for Erika to massage his sadly wasted limb. During that week, too, his general health showed a sudden marked improvement. Malacou told him that this was because the Earth was about to enter the Sign of the Zodiac ruled by Sagittarius, which ran from the 2lst November to the 20th December, and was especially favourable to all matters concerning the thighs and legs.

Ever since Gregory had sufficiently recovered from his operation to enjoy his periods of consciousness the sight of Erika had re-aroused in him the emotions natural to a lover and she had eagerly returned his endearments; although owing to his state, they had had to confine themselves to kisses and caresses. But by November 25th his urge to make love to her again in the fullest sense had become so strong that he pleaded with her to let him.

At first she would not hear of it; but for the next few days he continued to beg her to undress and lie down with him, swearing that he would remain quite still, so that he should not strain his leg, and leave it to her to play the man's part.

Tempted as she was to agree she protested that, although by exercising great care she would not harm him, she positively dared not from fear that Malacou might suddenly come in and surprise them. Promptly, he assured her that his telepathic faculties would give him ample warning of the doctor's approach.

At that she shook her golden head and laughed, `No, no, my darling. You cannot persuade me that while locked with me in love's embrace your mind would be capable of also keeping cave for Malacou. If we are again to take full joy of one another it must be at night when there is no chance of our being disturbed.'

`But how can we' he frowned. `Even if you could get away undetected from the Manor there is only one door to this ruin and it's always locked. To ask Malacou for a key would give the game away.'

After a moment she said, `Everyone at the Manor is in bed and sound asleep well before midnight; so no-one would know if I crept downstairs and let myself out. And as this is a ruin I'm sure there must be other ways of getting into it than by the door. It is Malacou's day at the clinic tomorrow, so I'll take the opportunity to explore.'

On the following afternoon, when she came to him, her big blue eyes were bright with excitement and she said at once, `I've found a way in. At the head of the stairs outside this room there is another door. It leads out on to a lead walk parallel to the roof of the Castle chapel. Stefan told me that while he was cooped up here with you after you got away from Peenemьnde he used to take his exercise there, because one can't be seen from below. At the far end of the walkway there is a gap in the battlement and its fallen stones form a big pile on the ground. From the ground to the leads is only about fifteen feet and I was always good at climbing, I'm sure I could scramble up it and come 'to you that way. Oh, darling, just think of it! I can hardly wait. I'll come to you tonight.'

With many kisses Gregory urged her to be careful. Then when she had left him he did his utmost to concentrate on a book, so as to lessen the likelihood of Malacou picking up his thoughts of the promised joys to come.

For him the evening positively crawled by and after he had turned down the incandescent burner beside his bed he found it impossible to keep his mind from forming pictures of Erika's lovely form.

It was with good reason that before she was out of her teens she had become known as `'The Beautiful Erika von Epp', for it was not her oval face alone, with its smooth forehead crowned by waves of true golden hair, her great laughing eyes and rich, full lips that made her a living masterpiece of art; from small feet and ankles her long legs curved up to splendidly rounded hips and above her narrow waist her torso blossomed into two firm, smooth domes that stood proudly out so that they would have fitted perfectly into outsized old-fashioned champagne glasses.

At last, soon after midnight, the door creaked slightly and she slipped into the room. When he turned up the light he saw that she was wearing only a warm, belted, camel hair coat over her nightdress. She was still panting slightly from her climb, but looked all the more lovely with her hair dishevelled. Her eyes were liquid and sparkling; her cheeks rosy with excitement. Smiling at him she slipped off her coat, then,, stooping quickly, took the hem of her night-dress in both hands and pulled it off over her head.

He shut his eyes then opened them again and breathed, `If this were my first sight of you I'd think Venus had come to earth again.'

Kicking off her shoes, she ran to him crying, `Think of me as Venus, then, and I'll transport you to heaven. Oh, darling, it's been so long! You can't think how terribly I've wanted you!'

`And I you!' his voice came huskily as he stretched out his strong arms to her.

Throwing herself on her knees beside his bed, she put her hands on his biceps and checked his movement. `Oh, be careful! For God's sake be careful! You swore you would lie still and let me love you. You've stormed the gates of paradise often enough in the past. This time they'll open for you, but oh, so very gently.'

Raising her chin she opened her mouth and offered it for his kiss. He took her face between his hands and drew her lips down on his. Her breath began to come quickly and she closed her eyes. Then as he released her she rolled back the sheet and lay down with him on his sound side. Leaning over she kissed him again and again while his hands caressed her body. When they could restrain themselves no longer she knelt up and, as she had promised, transported him to heaven.

Next day he awaited her coming with some anxiety. But all had gone well; she had accomplished her downward climb without accident and got back to her room without disturbing anyone. After long kisses and talking over the delights of their midnight encounter she said:

`I've news for you, and rather disturbing news at that. Khurrem told me this morning that she has promised to marry Herman Hauff; but only because he forced the issue. Apparently, after the Peenemunde raid, when the Gestapo were hunting for you and Stefan, as you had both stayed here before moving to Wolgast, they came here and would have arrested Khurrem and her father had not Hauff used his influence to protect them. Yesterday he threatened that if she wouldn't become engaged to him he would withdraw his protection and report that he had overheard them saying the sort of things that people aren’t allowed to say about Hitler.'

Gregory frowned. `What swine these Nazis are. Poor woman, I'm sorry for her.'

As Erika lit a cigarette she gave a slight shrug. `I don't know. She doesn't love him, of course, but I think it's rather a relief to her that matters have come to a head. It's telling her father that she's dreading. Quite apart from his antipathy to the idea of her marrying an S.S. man, I'm sure that he wants to keep her to himself. It's certain he will be furious.'

`I don't doubt it. But after blowing his top he'll have to agree. Physically he is a coward, and he told me himself he'd even commit murder rather than be hauled off to a concentration camp. Did she go so far as actually to settle on a date for their wedding?'

`No; but Hauff insists that it should be before the New Year, and that's not much more than four weeks from now.'

When Gregory asked Erika to come to him again that night she firmly refused, giving as her reason that too much excitement was certain to be bad for him, and that the sooner he could build up his strength the sooner they would be able to get away. For some while they argued, but she remained adamant and told him that for the time being, at least, he must remain content with her coming to him twice a week.

Malacou paid^- his usual visit to Gregory next morning and, although be said nothing about Khurrem, it was evident from his manner that she had told him of her engagement. However, with him he had brought Tarik, who was carrying a pair of crutches and a sling. Between them they got Gregory up and supported him while he tried the crutches out. On this first occasion, having been bed-bound for so long, he could hardly stand alone, but the following two days he managed a few faltering steps.

During these trials the doctor continued to look black and sullen, but Gregory paid little heed to this moodiness because he was so entranced at the prospect of being able to walk once more and, between whiles, with joyful thoughts that on the fourth night from her first visit Erika had promised to come to him again.

That evening after Gregory had had his meal and Tarik had taken away his tray, knowing that Malacou's mind would be fully occupied with his worry over Khurrem, he turned down his light, lay back and let his imagination have free play anticipating the joys of the coming night.

Soon after midnight he was roused from his semi-dreaming state by the sound of hurried footsteps outside and next moment his door was flung open. Recalling the caution Erika had used on her first visit, he feared for a moment that something had gone wrong and it might be someone else. Hastily he^-levered himself up in bed and turned up the light. Framed in the open doorway Erika was standing. But she was trembling violently, her eyes were wide and staring and her face was drained of blood.

'Darling he cried, `what on earth's the matter? You look as if you'd seen a ghost.'

`No' she gasped. `No; but something worse. When… when I climbed up on to the walkway I saw chinks of light coming through the chapel roof. I… I clambered over on to it and knelt down near a rent to see what was going on. Oh, Gregory, a Black Mass was being held there. Or, at least, its Jewish equivalent. Instead of a cross, the Sephirotic Tree had been nailed up above the altar. To either side there were Hebrew candlesticks with seven branches and the candles in them were black. Malacou and Khurrem were there wearing robes covered with the signs of the Zodiac, and Tarik was standing to one side swinging a censer.'

For a moment she broke off to get her breath then, her voice rising to an hysterical note, she cried, `After I'd watched for a few minutes Malacou stopped chanting. Khurrem got up from her knees. They both stripped off their robes. They had nothing on beneath them and stood there naked. Then… then, he picked her up and seemed to be offering her to the spirit of Evil. And… and then he had her on the altar. His own daughter, Gregory! His own daughter!'

10

Battle of Wills

Gregory stared at Erika in horror. For a moment he was at a loss for words, then he exclaimed, `It almost passes belief that a man could do such a thing.'

`It's true!' she cried. `Every word I've said. I saw it with my own eyes.' Then, bursting into tears, she threw herself down beside him.

Putting his arms about her shoulders, he strove to comfort her. `There, there, my sweet. To have witnessed such a scene must have upset you terribly. But at least we now know where we stand. Stefan was right. Malacou really is a disciple of he Devil.'

`But incest!' Erika sobbed. `The sight of them locked together naked on that altar almost made me sick. It was revolting-utterly horrible.'

`Dearest, I can imagine how you must have felt; but I suppose Satanists stick at nothing. Probably the more evil the things they do, the more power they draw down to themselves from Satan. One can only pity Khurrem. She is completely dominated by him. And this explains the wretched state she's in: her long silences and heavy drinking. I don't suppose it is he first time this has happened. No doubt she's still good at heart and loathes having to give herself to her father, but he compels her to.'

Still sobbing, Erika nodded. `I… I'm sure you're right. 'people whose consciences are troubling them often try… try o drown their thoughts in drink. But how awful for her, darling; how awful for her to… to have to let him make use if her body. Somehow we must help her to escape from him.' For a moment Gregory remained silent, then he said, `Listen, my sweet. However much you may feel the urge to try to help her you must make no attempt to do so; anyhow, for the present. I'm helpless here. Until I can stand on my feet again and give a good account of myself we'll both remain in Malacou's power. You've got to do your damnedest to act naturally tomorrow with both of them, and for the time being try to put out of your mind what you saw.'

Suddenly she jerked herself away from him, her eyes distended, her expression again one of terror. `But, darling, I thought I told you. They know I saw them.'

`What!' he exclaimed. `No! How could they?'

`When I was kneeling on the roof of the chapel looking down at them my knees were on one beam and my hands on another. As I moved to get up I slipped. By then my hands were off the beam. One of them landed on a plank and it was rotten. Part of it snapped off and fell. For a moment I remained there petrified. They both stopped… stopped what they were doing and looked up. They must have known that it was I who was spying on them. Who else could it have been?

'It might have been a tramp who'd climbed up there hoping to find a way into the ruin to get a night's shelter,' Gregory suggested. But even as he spoke he knew that he was fooling himself. Malacou's highly developed sixth sense would have told him that it was Erika who was up on the roof.

`No, that won't wash,' he conceded quickly. `This is bad, my darling; very bad. But we mustn't take too black a view. Malacou knows that we are in no position to make trouble for him, and there's a chance that he may be too ashamed of himself to mention it. Anyhow, we must pretend that we know nothing of this, then he may think that you did not actually see what he was doing and supposed him only to be engaged in some occult ceremony. For us the really important thing is that we should keep clear of the Nazis; and that goes for him, too. He can't throw us out without incriminating himself; so he's got to keep us here until I'm fit to move under my own steam. Our best course will be to ignore the whole thing and we'll hope that he and Khurrem will, too.'

After a while Erika agreed to do her best to act naturally with them both the next day; then she crept into bed with

Gregory and lay for a long time with his arm about her. There could be no question now of their making love; only of her drawing sufficient strength from him to face the return journey past the chapel roof. In the early hours of the morning, when it seemed certain that the hideous ritual was long past its culmination and the chapel would again be deserted, she summoned up her courage to kiss him a belated good-night and set off on her way back to the Manor.

At his usual hour next morning Malacou came to Gregory's room. There were pouches under his eyes and his dark face seemed more heavily lined than usual. Sitting down he said at once:

`Before the arrival of your friends I told you that a new influence was about to make itself felt here and that it would be adverse to the rapport we had succeeded in establishing between us. When Kuporovitch reappeared I thought he would be the cause of it, but in that I was wrong. It is the woman whom you have made your mistress who has come between us, and I will not tolerate her presence here. She must leave tonight.'

That Malacou might make such a demand had never occurred to Gregory. Frantically he sought in his mind for a way to avert such a blow but, caught off his guard, he cried angrily, `You lecherous blackguard! This is because she found you out, eh?'

The doctor nodded. `She has brought this on herself. She saw things she was not meant to see.'

`She did, indeed! And for you to embrace your daughter carnally is against the laws of God and man. We know you now for what you area Satanist. With her you performed a Black Mass. You can't deny it.'

`I do not seek to. But desperate situations require desperate remedies. Every Black Mass, as you term it, is said with an intention. Although I have said nothing of it, you know the situation that has arisen between Khurrem and Hauff. He has to die; and the ceremony I performed was with that intention.'

For a moment Gregory considered this explanation, then he said, `I know you are bitterly opposed to her marrying Hauff; although I've reason to suppose that she is not altogether unwilling. That makes things infinitely worse. And to have forced her to commit incest with you in the hope of getting rid of him is utterly unforgivable. Rather than perform such an abominable act surely you could have overcome your prejudice against him as a German and a Nazi. You did so in the case of von Altern. In fact you told me that you favoured the match and actually bought him for her.'

Malacou passed a hand wearily over his black, grey-flecked hair. Then he gave a slight shrug and said, less aggressively, `That was entirely different. Perhaps you will understand me better if I tell you that I have loved only two women in my life: my wife and Khurrem.

`I married my wife when she was sixteen; at sixteen Khurrem had become the image of her dead mother. Condemn me if you will, but at that age I seduced her. She was not unwilling, for she thought more highly of me than of other men. For ten years we were completely happy and our relationship had nothing at all to do with Satanism. Then she met von Altern and fell desperately in love with him. I loved her dearly, so gave way to her pleading and arranged for her to marry him.

`A few years later came the war and I left Poland to live here. Von Altern's military duties had already taken him away. Khurrem is passionate by nature and she was then at an age when women feel their greatest desire for sexual satisfaction, so I soon persuaded her to play again the part of a wife to me. By that time I had progressed far in my occult studies and I needed a woman's aid. At first she was reluctant, so I hypnotized her and in that way made her give herself to me as the culmination of an occult operation. But such ceremonies are far more effective if the woman is conscious of the part she plays and is willing. As time went on I lightened the state^-of hypnosis under which I took her, until from habit she accepted the role that fate had decreed for her. From that time onward, on certain favourable days each month, I have been able to continue my enjoyment of her with the advancement of my occult activities. It is thus that the present state of things has come about.'

Frowning, Gregory listened to this appalling story, then he said, `You have made her, then, your chattel; and, like yourself, a servant of the Devil.'

`You may term her that,' Malacou retorted defiantly, `but she is also my love, and I will not be robbed of her. I will allow nothing, nothing to come between us. That is why Hauff has to die; and your woman, who would try to part us, must go:

`No, no!' Gregory protested. `I can't possibly do without her.'

`Tarik and I looked after you when neither she nor Kuporovitch was here and now that you are in a much better state it will be even easier for us to do so.'

`Maybe! But God knows I've spent weeks enough alone here for hours on end. I need her companionship.' `You will have to do without it.'

`Why the hell should I?

'Because her continued presence would interfere with the development of the psychic link between us.'

`There will be no further link. I'll see to that. Nothing will induce me to lend myself again to these practices. I'll not have you lead me to become a servant of Satan.'

Malacou's eyes flashed and his voice was firm. `That need not follow; but you will obey my wishes. And it is my wish that when Frau Bjornsen comes to see you this afternoon you should tell her that she must leave Sassen tonight.'

`She will refuse. She'll tell you to go to hell where you belong.'

`She will not refuse. And unless she prefers to risk bringing the Gestapo here she will leave the Manor without making a scene. Remember, you are still a helpless cripple, so completely in my power. If I wish I could starve you into sending her away. But I do not want to impede your recovery. Instead, I shall have it conveyed to Herman Hauff that she is an anti Nazi and is saying things detrimental to the regime. He will then have her deported.'

Gregory knew he was cornered. If he allowed Erika to resist and Malacou had her denounced her papers would be very strictly examined; then, should there be the least flaw in them, that might lead her into desperate trouble; whereas if she presented them herself at the frontier there was little to fear. Besides, even if they took the risk of ignoring his threat, in the belief that he would be most loath to draw the attention of the Gestapo to anyone who had stayed as a guest at Sassen, how could they possibly carry on a war against him when he had so many means of bringing pressure on them?

`Very well, then,' he agreed angrily; `since you insist, I'll tell her she must leave.'

That afternoon proved one of the bitterest he ever remembered. For three hours he and Erika tried to think of a way in which they could get the better of the Satanist and force him to rescind his demand, but in vain. At length, tearfully and in great distress, they parted, Erika having promised to let Gregory know the moment she arrived safely in Sweden, by means of a message of thanks sent to her hostess.

For the next forty-eight hours Gregory got little sleep, both from worrying about Erika's safety and about his own position; for Malacou did not come to see him, and speculating on the Satanist's possible powers made him most uneasy. But on the second evening the doctor reappeared and brought with him a telegram addressed to Khurrem. It had been handed in the previous afternoon at Trelleborg and ran: Rotten crossing but soon over many thanks for generous hospitality. Selma.

When Gregory had seen it Malacou sat down and said, `For the past week I have been able to spare little thought for you, owing to my preoccupation with this affair of Khurrem's; but now I am capable of concentrating again on other matters. Now you know that Frau Bjornsen has arrived safely in Sweden your mind should also be free from anxiety. Therefore, let us talk.'

`I have nothing to say to you,' Gregory replied quietly. `The only thing I intend to concentrate on is getting well, so that I can relieve you of my presence as soon as possible.'

`In that you are mistaken,' the doctor told him with equal quietness. `For our future relationship it is of the first importance that we should further develop the telepathic faculties that we have established between us.'

'There will be no future relationship. When I leave this place I hope never to set eyes on you again; and if I do I shall avoid you like the plague.'

`In that you are again mistaken. You cannot avoid your destiny and it is written in the stars that we shall be brought together. For some time past it has no longer been necessary for me to hypnotize you while attending to your leg. But if you refuse to co-operate with me I shall be forced to resume the practice and so compel your obedience.'

`I won't let you!' Gregory burst out. `I did before, but now I'll resist you with all the force of my will. And you'll find it stronger than yours.'

Malacou closed his eyes and bent his head, then remained silent. Two minutes later Tarik came into the room and the doctor spoke to him in Yiddish. The hunchback advanced on Gregory. Bracing himself, he shouted at Malacou, `Call him off. If he lays hands on me I'll strangle him.'

`Should you try, you would be more of a fool than I take you for,' remarked the doctor. `Tarik is very strong and if you struggle it is certain that you will re-break your leg.'

Gregory knew that to be true. Confronted with this awful dilemma, he let Tarik get behind him as he sat up in bed and place his hands firmly on both sides of his face; but he closed his eyes tightly and forced down his head. Tarik slowly pulled it up again and, although Gregory grabbed his wrists and pulled upon them, he found it impossible, without straining his body, to exert enough strength to break the grip.

While the hunchback held his head in that position, although Gregory's eyes were closed, he knew that Malacou was staring at him with intense concentration. With all the strength of his will he strove to fight off the Satanist's influence, and the wordless battle continued for nearly twenty minutes. Then, at last, Gregory felt his mind slipping and went under.

When he emerged from his trance Malacou was smiling, and said to him, `You have been under for only a few minutes as it is not my intention to take advantage of you if you will only be reasonable. I did as I did just now only to show you that I can dominate your mind whenever I wish. But it would be a foolish waste of time to enter on these struggles every day. Listen now to what I have to say and when you have heard me out I hope you will prove more amenable…

`I admit to having misled you when I implied that as an occultist I had not Passed the Abyss. I am an Adept, although not a very advanced one, and there are still many limitations to my powers. But when I told you that many minor magic’s can be performed without any commitment to evil I was not lying. That is the case with fortune-telling, while to consult the stars is no more harmful than endeavouring to envisage a country unknown to one by studying a map. We come now to affecting others by means of occult power.

`Whether you agree or not that witches and wizards can cast spells and destroy the health of people against whom they have a grudge, I think you will agree that certain holy persons of all religions have performed what we call "miracles".

`Such powers are derived through the practitioner drawing down to himself unseen forces that inhabit the spirit world. These forces are either Good or Evil and making use of them is termed either White Magic or Black Magic. For major operations it is necessary to call directly on the aid of either God or the Devil. The Saints could not have performed their miracles without praying for help to their Divinity, and I could not hope that Herman Hauff will die had I not appealed to the Lord of this World to destroy him for me.'

`You admit, then,' Gregory broke in, `that you are a worshipper of the Devil?'

Malacou nodded. `Yes, I have chosen to follow the Left Hand Path; because in no other way could I achieve my desires. But whether an act of magic is Black or White depends on the intention, of the occultist who performs it. If it is undertaken for selfish ends, as was the case with the ceremony I performed to remove the menace to my happiness in the person of Hauff, it is Black. But if it is undertaken for unselfish ends it is White.

`You do not stand in my path in any way. On the contrary, we have the same hatred for the Nazis and wish to bring about their ruin. Moreover, you must agree that in receiving you here in the first place, and for many weeks giving you the shelter of my home while you recover from your injuries, I have taken considerable risks on your behalf. There is, too, my conviction that we are destined to work together in the future and that you will save my life.

`All this adds up to the fact that you have no possible cause to fear ill from me. Such minor magic’s as I have performed in connection with you have all been White. That I have used Black Magic for other purposes has no bearing on the matter. I do not expect you to approve of that any more than if you had found me out to be a sadist or a blackmailer. But I do ask that you should endeavour to put out of your mind, as far as possible, your knowledge that at times I perform acts of which you highly disapprove; and, in all other matters, regard me as your ally. Have I made myself clear?'

Slowly Gregory nodded. He felt that Malacou had made a big point by implying that while working against the Nazis he would not have rejected the help of any ordinary crook, and he could not dispute the fact that he owed his escape from death at their hands to the sanctuary that the doctor had afforded him. It had to be faced, too, that if he refused to comply with Malacou's wishes the doctor had already proved that he could force him to under hypnosis. Mentally reserving to himself the right to oppose any act of Malacou's towards himself that he considered suspect, he said:

`All right, then. Provided we keep off the subject of Satanism, I'm willing to renew practising our telepathic communications.'

Having taken his decision he again entered on this mental activity, at first cautiously, then, when he found no harm came of it, with goodwill. As the December days progressed he was able to tell the doctor about the patients he had treated on his days at the clinic, while Malacou could always tell him what books he had been reading and how his attempts at walking were progressing. He was fast regaining his strength and with the aid of crutches could now propel himself not only about his room but up and down the walkway outside on the roof along which Erika had come on her two visits to him.

Shortly before Christmas he decided that in another week or so he would be fit enough to make a bid to get home. He was by then able to put his left foot to the ground and bear a little weight on it; and, although it might yet be a considerable time before he could dispense with a crutch, he saw that as no bar to his making the journey. At the prospect his mind naturally turned more and more frequently to happy thoughts of exchanging his dreary life in the old ruin for the joys of being with Erika and back at his comfortable flat in London. So he was not at all surprised when, on Christmas Eve, Malacou said to him:

`Several time's recently I have picked up your thoughts about leaving here.'

`Yes,' Gregory agreed. `I can already manage to dress without help in the clothes you procured for me to take my walks along the roof, and in about a week I shall be fully fit to travel on my own. I shall, of course, go by the route that Frau Bjornsen took; from Grimmen along the coast to Sassnitz, then cross by the ferry boat to Trelleborg. When I reach Stockholm I may have to wait about a bit until I can get back to England by one of the Mosquitoes they send over with despatches for the British Embassy, but I expect one comes in about once a week. The only tricky part will be getting from here to Grimmen. But I take it you could hypnotize Willi again, so that he can run me in by the lorry and have no memory afterwards of having made the trip.'

Malacou shook his head. `I fear that what you propose is out of the question:

`Why?' asked Gregory quickly. `Has anything happened to Willi?'

`No. It is simply that I have no intention of allowing you to leave here.'

`What the devil do you mean?'

`What I say. I have already told you more than once of my conviction that our fates are linked. Some months hence I shall enter a period of great danger. In fact, the stars foretell my death, unless it can be averted by a person whose horoscope is very similar to yours. The horoscopes of individuals vary even more than do their fingerprints, so the chances of anyone else capable of saving me being at hand when this crisis^-arises are extremely remote. If I allow you to return to England I cannot see you risking your life by coming back to this part of Germany as long as the war continues. Therefore, my own life depends on my keeping you here.'

`In that you're wrong,' Gregory snapped angrily. `Even if you can succeed in detaining me as a prisoner-and that I doubt once I've got back the full use of my leg when you are faced with death I swear I'll not lift a finger to save you.'

`Oh yes you will. The circumstances in which I shall be in dire peril are still hidden from me. But when the time comes you will be just as much a plaything of fate as myself. Your stars will compel you to act in my defence.'

`Damn you!' Gregory shouted. `I'll force you to let me go. Now that I'm stronger I'll no longer allow you to dictate to me. Good always triumphs over evil. I'll break that evil will of yours. Come on! I challenge you.'

As he spoke he looked straight into Malacou's eyes. The doctor closed his for a moment, then opened them again and returned Gregory's stare. For what seemed an endless time to Gregory he strove with all his mind to overcome that of his adversary, but the dark, hooded eyes into which he was gazing remained unwinking and gradually seemed to grow larger. At length he could see nothing else and felt his concentration weakening. He knew then that he was beaten and, with a cry of despair, lowered himself with bowed head on to the side of his bed.

Sentenced again to spend further months as a prisoner, the bitterness of his thoughts on Christmas Day were exceeded only by those on the afternoon that Malacou had forced him to part with Erika. Now that he was nearly fit to travel the frustration he felt at being held against his will was overwhelming, and it kept him awake for the best part of the night. But next morning his thoughts were- temporarily distracted from his miserable situation by a new event.

Malacou burst in upon him, his eyes bright with excitement and so agitated with delight that he could hardly speak. As Gregory stared at him, he gasped out, `Praise be to Iblis! He has hearkened to his servant. Hauff is dead!'

`Dead!' Gregory exclaimed. `Is he really?' For he had never seriously credited the Satanist's belief that his abominable ceremony would have the desired end. `What happened? How did he die?'

`He was in that powerful car of his. He always drove it like a maniac, without a thought that he might kill someone. And now he's killed himself. I'm told he went in to a Weihnachtsfest party in Greifswald yesterday and I've no doubt he got drunk. When he was driving home in the early hours this morning he crashed into a farm wagon. His car was smashed to pieces and he died from his injuries shortly afterwards.'

`Well, that's that.' Gregory relaxed on his bed. `You've got your wish, but as there's a living God you'll have to pay for it when the time comes to settle all accounts.'

`Maybe, maybe,' the Satanist muttered, his expression suddenly changing to one of fear. `But Khurrem is mine Khurrem is mine! No one can now take her from me.'

`I wouldn't be too certain of that,' Gregory remarked cynically. `She'd be very attractive if she cleaned herself up and, remember, she is an heiress. Some other chap may get the idea that he'd like to take her on and become the master of Sassen.'

Malacou shook his head. `No, no. If that were likely I'd have read it in the stars. She must now go through a black patch; a very black patch. But no other man is coming into her life.'

Snow fell next day and for some days afterwards Gregory had to give up his exercise on the roof from fear of slipping as, even when Tarik had swept a path along the walkway for him, temporary thaws brought down little avalanches which continued to make it dangerous. But every day he now spent several hours exercising in his room with most satisfactory -results. Meanwhile he cudgelled his brain for a way to outwit Malacou, but, resourceful though he was, he could think of no safe way of getting into Grimmen unless he could persuade the Satanist to hypnotize Willi.

Another week had dragged by when, on the afternoon of New Year's Eve, much to his surprise, Khurrem paid him a visit. Understandably, she had not done so since Erika had; seen her lying naked on the altar of the chapel in flagrante delicto with her father and, as she came in, Gregory wondered how she had managed to overcome her embarrassment at Facing him again.

Looking at her, he recalled her father's having said that she was due to go through a-very bad period, for her condition had greatly deteriorated since he had last seen her. The fine grey eyes that at times lit up her face were dull and had big black shadows beneath them. Her red hair had obviously not been properly done for several days, her long face looked thinner than ever and her cheeks were furrowed.

Gregory's first thought was that he might possibly be able to make use of her in some plan to escape but, even if she could be persuaded to drive him into Grimmen, as Malacou had the power to read both her thoughts and his, it seemed certain that the Satanist would gain knowledge of their intentions and take steps to frustrate them.

As he reluctantly dismissed the idea, she produced a letter and said, `Mr. Sallust, you are an upright man and the only person here whom I can trust. I know that you must think very badly of me, but if you knew the story of my life I think you might pity rather than despise me. At least I feel sure you will not refuse to do me a small service. I want you to keep this letter until tomorrow morning; then open and read it, and afterwards give it to my father.'

`Certainly I'll do that,' he replied, taking the letter. `I'm afraid you have been going through a very bad time. If there is any other way in which I can help you, please tell me. It is not for any of us to sit in judgement on others, so whatever you care to say to me you need have no fear that I'll make any comment that will hurt you.'

`No,' she said sadly. `If I had married Herman Hauff things might have turned out better for me, but there is nothing anyone can do to help me now. You'll promise, though, not to open my letter until tomorrow morning, won't you?

'Yes, I promise,' he said gravely.

At that she began to walk towards the door, but on reaching it she turned and said, `I shan't be seeing you again. I'm going away. But that's in the letter, so you mustn't tell my father. I'm frightened of him. But you need not be, because you have great courage. You will get away, too. My occult sense tells me that. I shan't go far at first, so I’ll be thinking of you and trying to help you. When you get back to England give my.,. my love to your beautiful lady. She, too, was kind to me.'

When Khurrem had gone Gregory sat on the edge of his bed thinking for a long time about her. Knowing how tragic her life had been, he felt that she was more sinned against than sinning, so was deeply sorry for her. By her decision to break away from her evil father she had shown more guts than Gregory would have expected, and he found himself smiling wryly at the fury Malacou would be in next morning when he learned that she had left him.

In consequence, he felt no surprise when the Satanist roused him from sleep by again bursting in on him early on New Year's Day. Malacou's face was haggard and his eyes wild. He seemed utterly distraught as he stood for a moment staring down at Gregory. Suddenly he gave a wailing cry, then gasped:

`Woe is me! Woe is me! My Master has betrayed me. Khurrem is dead! Khurrem is dead!'

Pulling himself up in bed, Gregory cried, `Good God! I knew she intended to leave you but not… not that way.'

`She asked for death,' Malacou wailed. `She has taken her own life. Immediately I woke I knew that something terrible had happened. I hurried over to the Manor. And there she was. Dead! Dead with an empty bottle of sleeping tablets still clutched in her hand. Oh, woe is me! Woe is me! I am undone and desolated. I loved her beyond bearing and she is now gone from me.'

Gregory had put Khurrem's letter beneath his pillow. Fishing it out, he opened it and read the spiky handwriting, which ran:

I can stand no more, so I have decided to take my life. My regret at Herman Hauff`'s death plays no part in this. I did not love him, but as his wife might again have found some peace of mind. I did not hate my father for what he did to me when I was sixteen and the guilt for allowing him to continue as my lover was as much mine as his. But more recently he has used my body for his abominable rites. The thought of what may result from this haunts me with terror. His caresses have become loathsome to me, and for having forced me to become a hand-maiden of evil I can never forgive him. To his other sins must be added his driving me to put an end to my earthly being. May he meet with his deserts in the Hell that he deserves and may the Lord God of Israel have mercy on my wretched spirit.

Khurrem von Altern

Having read this terrible missive, Gregory said gravely, 'Khurrem left this with me yesterday afternoon. She told me to read it this morning, then give it to you.'

Malacou took the letter and his thick red lips moved slowly as he read it through. When he had taken in its contents he let it flutter to the floor. Then falling on his knees he began to moan and bang his forehead on the ground.

Suddenly Gregory felt impelled to look away from him towards the door.- His eyes dilated, for he could have sworn that for a moment Khurrem was standing there. She was - pointing at her father and her soundless words rang through Gregory's brain like a trumpet call.

`Now! Now! His mind is distraught. He cannot resist you. Now is your chance to defeat him.'

Instantly he seized his crutch, slipped out of bed and stood over Malacou. Still on his knees, wringing his hands and tearing at his hair, the Satanist wailed, `I have lost her! I am accursed! Oh, woe is me! What shall I do? Oh, what shall I do

'I will tell you,' Gregory shouted at him.

Ceasing his cries, Malacou stared up at the figure towering over him.

`You will go downstairs and fetch that drawing of the Sephirotic Tree,' Gregory said firmly.

`You… you have thought of some way to help me,' Malacou stammered. `Yes, yes; the stars have declared you to be my friend and guardian.' Staggering to his feet, he lurched out of the room. Two minutes later he came running back, clutching the ancient parchment.

`Now,' Gregory commanded, `tear it up.'

Malacou's eyes filled with amazement, then they flickered. He shuddered, his hands trembled and from his mouth saliva ran down his chin. `No!' he panted. 'No! I cannot. It is a sacred document.'

`You must,' Gregory cried harshly. `You must! Only by recanting from evil can you hope to escape the curse that Khurrem has put upon you.'

For a long moment the eyes of both of them remained locked in silent battle. Gregory was praying frantically, `O Lord, help me to overcome him! Dear Lord, help me to overcome him!' Suddenly his body responded to a divine command. Placing the foot of his injured leg firmly on the ground, he threw away his crutch.

He did not fall or even need to ease the weight his foot had taken, but remained drawn to his full height glowering at Malacou. At the sight of his action the Satanist wilted. His eyes fell and with shaking hands he tore the parchment from top to bottom.

That evening, the 1st of January 1944, Gregory left Sassen. On the 25th of the month he landed safely in England.

+

II

The Great Strategic Blunder

Five hours after Gregory landed in England he was sitting in the lofty book lined room that had been the scene of the beginnings and ends of all his secret missions. It looked out from the back of Canton House Terrace to the Admiralty, the Foreign Office and the other massive buildings in which throbbed the heart of Britain’s war machine. The fact that it was raining did not depress him in the least.

Beside him on a small table were the remains of a pile of foie gras sandwiches off which he had been making a second breakfast, and nearby stood an ice-bucket in which reposed a magnum of his favourite Louis Roederer 1928. From it his silver tankard was being filled for the second time by his old friend and patron, Sir Pellinore Gwaine-Cust.

Sir Pellinore was well over seventy, but the only indication of his age was the snowy whiteness of his hair, his bushy eyebrows and luxuriant moustache. His startlingly vivid blue eyes were as bright as ever, he stood six feet four in his socks and, as a person, was one of those remarkable products that seem peculiar to Britain.

In his youth he had been a subaltern in a crack cavalry regiment and during the Boer War he had won a well-deserved V.C. A few years later his ill-luck at some of the little' baccarat parties given by friends of his for king Edward VII, and his generosity towards certain ladies of the Gaiety chorus, made it necessary for him to leave the Army and he had accepted a seat on the Board of a small merchant bank.

His acquaintances thought of him as a handsome fellow, with an eye for a horse or a pretty woman and an infinite capacity for vintage port, but with very little brain-an illusion which he still did his utmost to maintain-so the directorship had been offered him solely on account of his social connections. To the surprise of those concerned he had taken to business like a duck to water.

Other directorships had followed. By 1914 he was already a power in the City. After the war he had refused a peerage on the grounds that there had been a Gwaine-Cust at Gwaine Meads for so many centuries that if he changed his name his tenants would think he had sold the place. Foresight had enabled him to bring his companies through the slump of the thirties and he emerged from it immensely rich.

Although his name was hardly known to the general public, it had long been respected in Government circles. To his great mansion in Carlton House Terrace, Ambassadors, Generals and Cabinet Ministers often came to consult him privately on their problems, and they rarely left without having- drawn new strength from his boundless vitality and shrewd common sense._

Gregory had just finished giving an account of events at Sassen since Erika had been forced to leave him there and of his final battle of wills with Malacou. Sir Pellinore towered over him, still grasping the neck of the magnum with a hand the size of a small leg of mutton. As he dropped the bottle back into the ice-bucket he boomed:

`Well, I'll be jiggered! So you forced the Malacoo feller to recant, eh? Made him swallow his own hell-broth. Shows how mistaken one can be. You're the last man I'd ever have expected to play the part of a sky-pilot. It's clear you've missed your vocation.'

`Thanks,' Gregory laughed, `but I don't think I'd fancy myself in a dog-collar.'

`Perhaps you're right. Might spoil your sport with the gals, eh?

'You're thinking of yourself,' Gregory twitted him. `Erika's the only woman in my life and-'

`And I'm the Grand Cham of Tartary,' Sir Pellinore cut in. `How about that Hungarian wench you brought back with you from your last trip? The Baroness Tuposo-no, Trombolo or some such outlandish name. By Jove, what a smasher she was. The elderly Baronet's bright blue eyes glittered at thee memory. `If I'd been ten years younger I'd have taken her off you and smacked her bottom myself.'

`I've no doubt you would. But Sabine was the last flutter of my murky past and the less said about her the better, because Erika should be here shortly.'

`You telephoned her from the R.A.F. station then. That's good. Seein' the mucker I made by bringing her down hotfoot from Gwaine Meads last time you got home, I didn't like to risk it. Thought you might bring back one of those blonde bombshells they export from Sweden.'

`That was considerate of you. God knows I was stuck there long enough to have acquired a harem.'

`Yes. Sorry about that. But I gather from General Gubbie's always the same with these S.O.E. jobs. When they want one of their cloak-and-dagger Johnnies to thrust a spanner in the Nazi works they can get him sent out overnight; but when he's singed what there is of the house-painter feller's moustche, they leave their chap sittin' on his backside till Doomsday.'

`It was all to the good, really. Naturally, I wanted to get home; but the people at our Embassy could not have been kinder and I benefited a lot from being under Dr. Zetterberg for the best part of a month. It was far from pleasant having to lie on my back again for most of the time with a damn' great weight attached to my foot, but there wasn't the temptation to kick over the traces that there would have been here.' `How is your leg?'

`Far better than I could ever have expected. Thanks to your having tempted Zetterberg with that staggering fee to risk his neck by going into Germany, I'll not have to spend the rest of my life as an unwieldy cripple. I only wish there were some way in which I could repay your princely generosity.<sup>9</sup> 'Nonsense,' Sir Pellinore responded gruffly. `Seein' you here on your two feet does that. The money was a bagatelle. You must know that I'm lousy with the stuff. But tell me more about us Maluku feller. If Erika hadn't vouched for it I'd never have believed in such goin's on. It's straight out of the Dark Ages.' Gregory sighed. `Neither would I if I hadn't come up against it myself. But one can't laugh at the fact that I was struck down on a day that he predicted would, in connection with Stefan, hold the maximum danger for me.'

`That might have been coincidence.'

`Not if you take into consideration all the lucky breaks we had on the days he said would be favourable to us; and Hauff's death. It was that which finally convinced me that he really was in league with the Devil.'

'Umph! Erika told me about that. Rollin' his own daughter in the hay. What a thing to do! Takes a lot to shock me, but there are limits. Can't see much fun in having a woman on a stone slab, either. Still, that's beside the point. If it wasn't that Erika swears she saw the two of them having an upsy-daisy I'd put the whole thing down to your having been round the bend for a while owin' to the pain you were suffering.'

`You can count that out. I was cooped up with him in that ruin for over four months and for most of that time I was as sane as you are. What is more, although we are now separated by hundreds of miles of land and sea, I still get his vibrations and know what is happening to him.'

`God bless my soul!' Sir Pellinore gulped down a great draught of champagne. `You can't really mean that?

'I do. His killing of Hauff led to Khurrem's committing suicide, and that has landed him in one hell of a mess. I always thought it a bit odd that on Ulrich von Altern's death the Sassen estate did not pass to his brother Willi. It probably did but, as Willi was a nut, the odds are that he wouldn't have realized it; and Malacou managed to fix things so that the von Alters lawyers would agree to Khurrem running the place for him. Anyhow, now Khurrem is dead her papa is up against it. The family have muscled in and a distant cousin named Gottlob is creating trouble. He is next in line to Willi and, on the plea that Willi is not all there, he is trying to get a court order that will make him Willi's guardian and enable him to take over Sassen. As the family has never had much time for their Turkish relations by marriage, it means that if Gottlob wins his case Malacou will be out on his ear.'

`Devil take me! You can't possibly know all that through thought transference.'

Gregory smiled. `I wouldn't call on the Devil if I were you. [t looks to me as though this is his pay-off to Malacou for my having made him rat on his Infernal Master. But I am; certain that is what is going on.'

'Bosh, my boy! Bosh! You must be loony. You dreamed it.

`In a way, perhaps. But they are waking dreams. I get them at odd times every day and I feel as though I were talking to Malacou just as I am to you.'

Sir Pellinore's slightly protuberant blue eyes took on a thoughtful look. Brushing up his white moustache, he said; For God's sake forget this nonsense. It was understandable while you were being hypnotized by this Malodo blackguard. But not now. What are your plans?

'My limp is no bar to my returning to duty, but I reckon I've earned a spot of leave; so I mean to go back to Gwaine Meads with Erika for a month or so. After that I take it there will be no difficulty about my again resuming my old job in the cabinet War Room?'

`None whatever. It was agreed it should be a permanent appointment and a stand-in employed whenever I wanted you seconded for special service.'

`That's O.K., then. And we won't be wanting any more stand-ins. Odd though it may seem, I've seen quite enough of he Nazis at close quarters. I'd rather remain here sticking pins a maps till the end of the war.'

Sir Pellinore bellowed with laughter. `Got cold feet at last, eh? But you're making a big mistake, my boy. You'd be safer in Berlin than London once the house-painter feller gets going with his secret weapon.'

Gregory looked up quickly. `I thought that had been sorted out by the raid on Peenemunde.' 'Yes and no.' Frowning slightly, the Baronet stood up and filled their tankards. `You and that Russian crony of yours enabled the R.A.F. to do a splendid job. The raid set the wurst-eaters back a good six months. Apart from blowing the place to merry hell we've learned that all the blueprints they had ready to send out to factories were destroyed. But that was back in August; and, of course, the backroom boys who

escaped the slaughter got away with the designs still in their bristle-brush heads. Intelligence recently reported that they've been at it again for some while in the Hartz Mountains.'

`But that's hundreds of miles from the sea. They can't be going to complete their tests with the long-range rockets right in the middle of their own country?

'No. Our guess is that Peenemьnde goin' up in smoke took the heart out of them about that idea. Probably hadn't got far enough with it for it to be worth while starting again. Looks as if they're concentrating' on the little fellers that have got wings. Pilotless aircraft they call 'em. Anyhow, they are beaverin' away in underground workshops this time and there's no way we can smoke'em out. R.A.F. might as well go lookin' for whales in the North Sea as try to pinpoint these ant-nests among all those miles of Christmas trees. They've been pushin' ahead with launching sites across the Channel, too. In December it was reported that they were workin' on about seventy of them. That side of it the R.A.F. is doing its best to tackle. In, spite of the hundreds of anti-aircraft guns protectin' 'em, a lot of them have been knocked out. But plenty more are being built; so come the spring we must expect trouble.!

'It's still possible that poor old London may take it on the chin, then?'

Sir Pellinore shook his white head. `Won't be as bad as that. I was only pulling your leg when I said you'd be safer in Berlin than in London. And you're dead right about staying put here now you have got back. You've done more to make the sauerkrauters spit blood than any other dozen agents already; so it's England, Home and Beauty for you from now on. I'll not have our people send you out again, however hard they press me. As for these robot aircraft, I feel pretty certain we can cock a spook at them. Everything points to their not being able to carry more explosive than a medium-sized bomb, and there'll be a limit to the number they can make. Odds are that half of 'em will go off course and those that do get here won't make things anywhere near as bad as they were in the Blitz… Given a bit of luck we may even have put the Nazis out of business before they are ready to start lobbing the damn' things over here.'

`For those words of comfort, many thanks. Now let's have the lowdown on how the war is really going.'

`Makes me see red even to think about it.'

`Oh, come!' Gregory protested… `We've been on the up and up for a year past now. Jack Slessor got on top of the U-boat menace last spring. The R.A.F. is bombing hell out of the German cities. The Yanks must be over here by the million by this time, and since the old Russian steam-roller really got moving the German Army, good as it is, has proved incapable of stopping it.' '

`Stoppin' the thousands of tanks we've sent them, you mean,' glowered the Baronet. `Mind, I'm not belittling the guts the Ruskies have shown; but they couldn't have socked the wursteaters the way they have if it hadn't been for the colossal amount of fighting gear we've sent them by way of Murmansk. And what those Arctic convoys cost us! It's sheer murder. for Navy is too stretched to give them much protection goin' round Norway they have to run the gauntlet of the Luftwaffe and the U-boats and German surface vessels into the bargain.'

`Yes, that must be pretty grim.'

`Grim! I should say so. Our poor lads are half frozen for most of the time, and bombed, shelled and torpedoed for the rest. No chance of bein' picked up either if your ship goes down. Two minutes in those icy waters and you're a deader. It's the Red Duster and the White Ensign we've got to thank for the Russian victories. Of course the public knows next to nothing about that, so the only credit we've been able to claim was the sinking of the Scharnhorst on Christmas Day. Admiral Fisher caught her sneakin' up on a convoy and blew her to smithereens.'

`Well done he. But even if we are largely responsible for Uncle Joe's big come-back and it's costing us a lot of lives, I can’t see why you are so pessimistic about the war situation n general.'

`Ever looked at the map of Italy?'

`Yes; and of course we've got ourselves bogged down here:

`You've said it. But, infinitely worse, we've chosen the worst conceivable place to launch a campaign against Axis-held southern Europe. We're not only bogged down now, but when we do break out the territory is so much in favour of the enemy that we're goin' to be bogged down again and again, the whole way up Italy.

`Once we had North Africa the game was in our hands. But we threw away all our trumps. Those damn' fool Americans vetoed Churchill's plan for going into the Balkans, where the Greeks and Yugoslavs would have risen to a man and slit the throats of the German garrisons. We could have driven straight up to Budapest then and had the Hungarians with us, too. Joined up with the Russians, saved ourselves from this murderous business of the Arctic convoys and encircled the southern flank of the German Army in the East.'

Sir Pellinore swallowed another gulp of champagne and went on angrily, `To have missed that chance was bad enough, but since the Yanks wouldn't have it from fear that after the war Central Europe would become a sphere of British influence we might at least have done better than go into Italy by the basement.'

`I couldn't agree more,' Gregory said quickly. `And if the intention was not limited to relieving Malta and making the Med reasonably safe for Allied shipping, but later to invade the Italian mainland, we ought never to have gone into Sicily at all. We should have done it via Sardinia and the Gulf of Leghorn.'

`Of course. Mountbatten was for that, Cunningham was for it; and it would have been their responsibility to get the troops ashore. Portal and Pug Ismay inclined that way, too; and in the early days, when the pros and cons of Sicily and Sardinia were discussed, Churchill had said that he could see no sense in climbing up the leg of Italy like a harvest bug. From the beginning the Joint Planning Staff had been all for Sardinia and at the Casablanca Conference, when the matter was finally decided, they staged a revolt. But Alan Brooke wouldn't have it. He'd always favoured Sicily and at the last conference in Washington he'd persuaded the Americans to accept his choice. At Casablanca he fought the others tooth and nail. He flatly refused to go back to the Americans and reopen the question. Said they would get the idea that the British didn't know their own minds."

`What!' Gregory exclaimed. `You can't really mean that he forced the issue upon which the whole course of the war and thousands of British lives depended simply to avoid having to confess to the Americans that his colleagues were against him and he might be wrong.'

That's what it amounted to.'

`Why didn't Churchill intervene?'

Sir Pellinore shook his head. `He never does. He produces some very good ideas and some very dangerous ones. He never stops gingering up his Chiefs of Staff to use everything we've got against the enemy. But he sticks to protocol like a leech. Can’t blame him for that. Duty of a Prime Minister to accept he decisions of his military advisers. How at times he resists he temptation to override them I can't think. But he never abuses his position. As spokesman for the Chiefs of Staff, Allan Brooke had sold him this one about going into Sicily Before they left London. And he has great faith in "Brookie", so that was that.'

`What a shocking business!'

`And look where Alan Brooke's pigheadedness has landed us. Etna commands the whole of north-eastern Sicily. Any fool could have foreseen that the wurst-eaters would dig in on its slopes and hold us up there while they reinforced southern Italy. Naturally, by the time Montgomery did throw them out they were ready for us and able to give us a bloody nose when we landed-and another at Salerno. And why Salerno, in God's name? If we'd gone in further up at Anzio we'd have had Rome for the askin'! The Italians had surrendered and could hardly wait to come over to us so as to get their own back

· Musso's Nazi pals who have been kicking them round for so long. But rather than take a justified risk we missed the boat again; and as we failed to show the flag the Eyeties knuckled under.'

Gregory nodded. `Yes, we ought to have made the Anzio landing in September instead of last week. How are things going there?'

1. Historical note: See Arthur Bryant's Turn of the Tide, based on the

war diaries of Field Marshal Viscount Alanbrooke, pages 557-8.

`They're not. The whole Italian campaign is one hell of a mess. What's more the Generals have landed themselves with just the sort of party they always swore they would avoid. All of them were junior officers in the First World War. Fought at Loos, Ypres and that other bloodbath, the Somme. Never again, they said; never again will we expose troops to wholesale slaughter. And Churchill laid it down that whenever a battle looked like becoming a sloggin' match it was to be broken off. Then what happens? The Army is sent to fight its way up Italy. Two-thirds of the country's rugged mountains and rushing. rivers. No room for manoeuvre. Poor devils have got to fight for every yard of ground and are held for weeks while being shelled to blazes in the same position.

`It's more than six months now since this crazy business started with our landings in Sicily. The wurst-eaters have had all that time to fortify their Gustav Line along the Grigliano and Rapido rivers. The whole thing is stiff with steel and concrete pill-boxes and they've got us pinned down there. In the centre of the line there's a damn' great mountain with the monastery of Casino on top. No getting round it. The place has got to be taken by assault and the fighting there now is just about as bloody as it was at Passchendaele. The only solution was a landing at Anzio. If it had come off we should have outflanked the whole German line. But it hasn't, because a bun-headed American General was given command and he's bungled the whole job.'

Gregory raised his eyebrows. `Tell me more. I haven't heard a thing about this.'

`Neither, thank God, has the British public as yet, else they'd be yellin' for his head on a pole. He's a feller named Lucas. The great battle-launched at Cassino on the 12th was to draw down all the enemy reserves from central Italy; and it did the trick. What is more our deception people did a splendid job. They foxed the wurst-eaters completely and handed Anzio to Lucas on a plate. His troops got ashore with hardly a shot fired. By midnight he had landed thirty-six thousand men and three thousand vehicles. Our Guards Division, bless 'em, was in the van and ran true to form. They penetrated sixteen miles inland. Sixteen miles! And they cut the road between Rome and Cassino. Then, what does this moron do? He thinks he'd like to wait for his armoured corps in case there might be a battle. So he recalls all his advance troops back to the beach and makes them sit there for two days. Two days, mark you! And for all that time the road to Rome was open. The Italians have informed us since that the Germans had sent every man jack they had up to Cassino and a single mechanized battalion could have seized the city.'

Grabbing the neck of the magnum, the Baronet picked it up. Then, seeing that it was empty, he thrust it back and rang the bell. Still scowling, he muttered, `I've always said that the one thing wrong with a magnum is that it holds too much for one and not enough for two. We'll open another to keep us going till lunch.'

`That's fine by me,' Gregory agreed, `I haven't tasted the real stuff for eight months. But what a shocking story. What's the position now?

'Owing to Lucas's bungling, he got himself boxed in and darn near chucked back into the sea. Must give it to the sauerkrauters that they know how to meet a crisis. God only knows where they found them, but they rushed up about twenty thousand men. On the third day it was touch and go. But Alex went in himself. Saw every Brigadier in the outfit personally and restored the situation. Battle at Casino couldn't be broken off, of course. And the Anzio beach-head averages only four miles in depth, with our people thick as flies on it, taking casualties from every shell that comes over. So now we've got two bloodbaths on our hands.'

`And to think how different things might be if only we had gone into Sardinia.'

`Yes, we'd be in the valley of the Piave by now and at far less cost. Alex would have been preparing for a drive in the spring by the route through the Julian Alps that Napoleon took. By summer we'd be in Munich and Vienna. Would have saved us from the immense task of preparing for a Second Front, too; and all the risks entailed by buttin' our heads against the house-painter feller's Atlantic Wall. But we haven't even got Rome yet so I would put my shirt on it that the historians will assess Alan Brooke's having pushed us into going into Europe by way of Sicily as about the biggest strategic plunder of all time.'

`An invasion of the Continent from England is definitely on, then?

'Yes. Roosevelt and Churchill gave Uncle Joe their word on that at Teheran. I don't have to tell you to keep a still tongue a your head. Anyhow, you'll pick up all the lowdown about it when you get back to the War Room. It's scheduled for the first week in May and detailed plannin' for it is going ahead full steam now. As you may know, Oliver Stanley and his Future Planners did all the ground work as far back as early '42, and he pot's been kept bubbling ever since. Churchill's never been keen on it because it's against all sense to attack a powerful enemy at his point of greatest strength. He's always favoured using our sea power to go in through the Balkans. Dead right too. We could have taken our pick of a thousand miles of coast where the enemy's very thinly spread and so far from home that it would take him weeks to build up a front. But

Americans have been all for a cross-Channel show from word go. Our people had all they could do to stall them off from getting themselves and us a bloody nose last year. We had to agree, though, to rev up the planning. About the time you went to Germany, General Morgan was appointed top joy of a show called C.O.S.S.A.C. with a big combined staff and they've been at it hammer and tongs ever since working out the nuts and bolts needed for the job. So when you go back you'll hear talk of nothing but Mulberries and landin' craft.'

`Who's going to command the big show?'

`Eisenhower.'

`What do you think of him?

'Grand chap. Mind, he has yet to prove his abilities as a General. Alex ran the show for him in North Africa. But as a person you couldn't have a better. He has buckets of charm, has the sense to listen to what other people have to say and is determined that there shall be no jealous bickering. He's told his own staff that if any of them don't get on with the British they'll get a ticket for the first ship home.'

`Oh come, now,' Gregory smiled, `you can't really mean that you approve of one of our Allies?'

`What's that? Insolent young devil! Nonsense! I've never said a thing against the Americans. Splendid fellers. Their generosity is boundless and if you don't lay the law down to them they're eager to learn. Fight like tigers, too, once they've been shown how. It isn't their fault that most of their top men have nothing but sawdust in their heads.'

At that moment the door opened and Erika was shown in by the parlourmaid, who also brought the second magnum. With cries of joy, the lovers embraced while Sir Pellinore opened the champagne and soon Gregory was telling Erika of his escape from Malacou.

Stefan Kuporovitch arrived shortly afterwards. Twelve days earlier his wife had presented him with a son; so Gregory had got back in time to act in person as one of the boy's godfathers, Sir Pellinore having agreed to be the other, while Erika was to be godmother. In due course the four of them enjoyed a lunch that few restaurants could have provided in the fifth year of the war, and with the dessert they drank a bottle of Imperial Tokay to the health of Madeleine and the small Gregory Pellinore Kuporovitch.

The following day Gregory saw a specialist who said that Dr. Zetterberg had done a splendid job on his leg and that, although he might suffer some pain from it from time to time if he overtaxed it, in another few months it should serve him as well as the one that had not been injured. It would, however, always be about half an inch shorter than the other.

In order to correct that he went to Lobbs in St. James's Street and ordered himself several pairs of shoes, the sole and heel of the left one of each pair to be half an inch thicker than the right, so that when he wore them his limp would not be noticeable. After three days in London he returned with Erika to Gwaine Meads.

The greater part of the lovely old house had been lent by Sir Pellinore to the R.A.F. as a hospital, but he had retained one wing to which he sent a few special guests who needed a quiet time to recover from particularly arduous service in the war. Gregory always stayed there after his missions and Erika had lived there permanently since she had escaped from the Continent. Although in the early months of the war she had trained as a nurse, she greatly preferred administrative work; so she had taken on the job of supervising the non-medical staff, dealing with rations, arranging recreations for the patients and other such tasks. Madeleine, having been a professional nurse in France before her marriage, had worked there up till Christmas as a Sister and was soon to resume part-time duty.

Early in February Kuporovitch took a fortnight's leave from his job of translating Russian documents in the War Office, and on his first Sunday at Gwaine Meads the baby was christened in the local church. Sir Pellinore came up for the ceremony and presented his godson with a gold-and-coral rattle and a cheque for a thousand pounds, then he ordered up from the cellars champagne for the whole staff of the hospital and its patients.

After their generous host had departed the following morning for London the four friends settled down to as pleasant a time as was possible in view of the bitter winter weather. Several days of snow and sleet, followed by biting winds, kept them largely to the house and, as none of them was a keen bridge player, to amuse themselves they resorted to various pastimes such as bezique, dominoes, Monopoly and guessing games.

In mid- March, a shade regretfully yet eager to be again in the swim of things, Gregory returned to London and once more put on the uniform of a Wing Commander. Both his uniforms dated from August 1942, so he thought it time he had another. When he was measured for it at Anderson and Sheppard's he told his cutter that he was in no hurry for it, is he did not mean to use it until he next went on leave. To order it proved a waste of money, for he never went on leave again-

12

The New Menace

GREGORY'S colleagues in the War Room were mainly other Wing Commanders, Lieutenant-Colonels and Commanders R.N., all middle-aged or elderly men specially selected from the host of officers who had served in the First World War and had been eager to serve again. As they were all intelligent and charming people the War Room could be described as a `happy ship'. They welcomed Gregory back with drinks in the tiny mess and invitations to lunch at their clubs, but were much too discreet to ask him where he had been during the past ten months.

Neither did any of them go out of their way to pass on to him such information as they had picked up about the plans for 'Overlord'-the codeword for the coming invasion of the Continent-but from conversations with senior officers and. Cabinet Ministers who, looked in at the War Room late at night, and usually seemed to assume that only very special secrets were kept from its staff, Gregory soon had a very good idea of what was going on and he discussed such matters with Sir Pellinore, who was always extremely well informed.

They had resumed their arrangement that Gregory should have supper with the elderly Baronet every Sunday evening. Like everyone else, Sir Pellinore's household was subject to rationing, but he had tackled that problem with his usual vigour and every week had sent up from Gwaine Meads supplies of non-rationed items, such as poultry, turkey eggs for omelettes and home-smoked eels. So after meals that were treats to Gregory they retired to the library and, stimulating their minds with ample potations of pre-1914 Kьlmmel and old brandy, reviewed every aspect of the war.

Sir Pellinore continued to deplore the fact that as the Americans had more men and more money they were in a position to dictate how the Allies' forces should be employed. Among their major stupidities he counted their flat refusal, in spite of Churchill's most desperate pleas, to spare a single Brigade to take over Rhodes from the Italians before the Germans had a chance to get there; thus having ruined our excellent prospects of persuading Turkey to enter the war as our allies.

The reason the Americans gave was that they needed every man they could lay hands on, not alone for the cross-Channel operation but to stage a subsidiary invasion of the south of France. And for this project they also intended to rob General Alexander of the best Divisions from his Army in Italy.

In the meantime things were going no better there. With a resolution that could only be admired, the Germans were obeying their Fьhrer’s

order that there should be no withdrawal. They had clamped down like a vice on the country and terrorized the Italians into continuing to keep the railways and their supply services going. Meanwhile, the Anzio beach-head continued to be boxed in.

After the great battle for Casino in January there was a temporary lull. But it had flared up again in mid-February and, although the American General Mark Clark had the historic monastery reduced to ruins by bombing, that got the Allies no further.

On the 6th of the month the enemy made a ferocious assault on the Anzio bridgehead and it was again touch and go whether the seventy thousand men now crammed in there were to be driven into the sea. They succeeded in clinging on to their few miles of Italian soil, but only at the cost of terrible casualties. In mid-March there came the third great battle for Casino, but the Germans held the heights and the Allies were again driven back with fearful losses. Strategy had gone by the board, the Allies were now paying an appalling price for entering Europe by way of Sicily and the Italian campaign had degenerated into the same ghastly war of attrition and futile sacrifice of life that had been waged for so long by the boneheaded Generals of the First World War on the Western Front.

Each time Sir Pellinore and Gregory met, after deploring the situation in Italy the Baronet asked gruffly, `Got yourself out of this habit of thinking about that Black Magician feller yet?'

But Gregory always had to shake his head and say, `No. Whenever I'm at a loose end for a few minutes during the daytime, or when I wake in the mornings or am dropping off to sleep at night, he still comes through. I just can't help it. And, to be honest, in a way I don't want to. To know what's happening to him holds an extraordinary fascination.'

Through these occult communications he was convinced that in March Gottlob von Altenn had succeeded in obtaining a court order to become Willi's guardian and take over the Sassen property. Malacou had then tried to come to an arrangement with Gottlob to retain the ruined Castle as a tenant. This had looked like going through, but, early in April, Malacou had found himself in further trouble. Gottlob's accountants had been going into the financial transactions at Sassen since Ulrich von Altern's death and unearthed the fact that Malacou had sold several of the outlying farms for a very considerable sum. When called on to repay the money he had been unable to do so because, although it was still unknown to the lawyers, believing that Germany was certain to be defeated and the mark become almost worthless, he had smuggled the money out to Sweden.

To get it back soon enough to satisfy the von Altern lawyers would have entailed a big risk of the authorities finding out what he had done and such currency offences were punishable by a heavy prison sentence. His efforts to secure time to pay had been unavailing and a fortnight later he had learned by his own mysterious means that a writ had been issued against him, charging him with having defrauded Willi. Knowing the verdict must go against him and that he would be sent to prison, he had decided on flight. With Tarik he had driven by night over the Polish border and, after various subterfuges to avoid being traced, had reached his house at Ostroleka.

As the spring advanced the preparations for `Overlord' increased in tempo. The work to be undertaken was immense. Hundreds of trains had to be earmarked for carrying troops and stores to ports, roads widened, camps built, hards constructed in the estuaries of rivers for embarking into the many types of landing craft, shipping brought from all over the world and concealed, as far as possible, in the northern ports, Mulberry harbours made and camouflaged, thousands of maps printed, innumerable measures taken to deceive the enemy about the date and place of the landings and scores of conferences held. Yet, in spite of everyone concerned working lay and night, D-Day had to be postponed from May to June.

.

While all this was going on the enemy was also extremely active. Although he still had no idea when and where the invasion would come, such vast preparations for it could not altogether be concealed. In consequence, from Norway right town to Biarritz, thousands of forced-labour gangs were at work strengthening the Atlantic Wall.

With grim determination, too, the Germans continued to press on the preparations to launch Hitler's great hope-the secret weapon. Owing to raid after raid by the R.A.F., they had been forced to abandon work on the big launching sites on the French coast first spotted by our reconnaissance aircraft. But hey had since developed a smaller type which was much harder to find. Many of these were also destroyed, but hardly a day passed without new ones being discovered.

It was one night early in May that Sir Pellinore asked Gregory, `If "Overlord" is successful what do you reckon the chances are of the house-painter feller throwin' in the sponge shortly afterwards?

'None,' replied Gregory promptly. `Hitler is a maniac and will fight to the last ditch.'

`That's my bet. But how about the German Army? D'you think that if they get a good lickin' in Normandy they'll rat on him?

'I doubt it. They would probably like to; but it's not in the nature of the Germans to defy a master. I should say the only chance of a sudden collapse is if someone bumps Hitler off.'

`That's my view, too,' Sir Pellinore agreed gloomily. `Then if the war goes on into the autumn, it looks as if we'll have to race up to those bloody great rockets.'

`But I thought that after Peenemьnde they had abandoned work on them.'

`So did we all. But we've recently had it through from the Polish Underground that they didn't. Seems the swine got again' again on 'em as soon as they could up on the Polish Marshes. New place is north-east of Warsaw and out of range of our bombers, so there's damn' all we can do about it.' Soon afterwards Gregory had confirmation of Sir Pellinore's unpleasant news. The new menace and its possible consequences began to be hinted at in uneasy whispers by his colleagues in the War Room. Then a week later, when lunching with an old friend of his who had been a Cadet with him in H.M.S. 'Worcester and, since 1941, had worked in the Deception action of the Joint Planning Staff: he cautiously led up to the subject.

The other Wing Commander made a grimace and said, `As is not a plan, there's no reason I shouldn't tell you what i know about it; although, of course, everything possible will done to keep it from the public, so as to avoid a panic. here's no doubt about it that Jerry is banging off these things in Poland, and that in a few months' time we may get them here. The high-ups are fairly peeing their pants at the thought ' what may happen to London.'

`Has anyone found out yet exactly how much damage they will do?' Gregory asked.

`Yes. There is quite a useful Underground in Poland, and I gather we've received a pretty accurate picture of these things from them. I was representing my little party only yesterday a high power meeting. It was called by the Home Office to discuss re-evacuating London and that sort of thing. Sir Findlater Stewart took the chair. He said that these rockets each weigh seventy tons and have a twenty ton warhead. Just think of what that means.'

Gregory nodded. `I heard that when I was in Switzerland, a long while ago, at the time they had only got them on the drawing board and I could hardly credit it.'

`Well, that's not far off the estimate our people made from photographs taken over Peenemьnde; and now we know For a fact. What is more, the boffins have worked it out that each one that lands on a densely populated area will turn a quarter of a square mile into rubble, kill four thousand people and cause a further ten thousand casualties.'

`God, how awful!^,

'Have another Kьlmmel,' said the Deception Planner. `Thanks,' murmured Gregory, `I need it.'

That day Gregory was not due on duty in the War Room until ten o'clock in the evening, so after lunch he went down to his flat in Gloucester Road and slept through the rest of the afternoon. As he gradually came out of his slumber he remained temporarily unconscious of his surroundings, but could see Malacou quite distinctly. The occultist was in a smallish room that had good but old-fashioned furniture. In his subconscious Gregory had seen the room several times before and knew it to be Malacou's study in his old house at Ostroleka.

With him there were two men of the Totenkopf S.S., and it was clear that he was in trouble. But it was not in connection with the money of which he had defrauded the von Alterns, otherwise the men would have been Staatspolizei. These were members of a special organization known as Einsatzgruppen, composed of criminals and fanatics embodied by Himmler for the purpose of exterminating the Jews. One of them held Malacou's passport and was questioning him closely about it. Clearly they believed him to be a Jew and on that account he was in grave danger of being taken off to a concentration camp.

From previous telepathic communications Gregory had received during the past six weeks he already knew the background of the situation. Malacou had proved wrong in his assumption that, owing to the great number of Jews in Poland and the German's need of the crops they grew, the majority of them had been left at liberty. Earlier that had been the case and it was only the Jews in Germany who had been sacrificed to the Nazi ideology. But Beth Hitler and Himmler were so obsessed- with the idea that the Jews were the deadly enemies of the whole human race that in 1943 Hitler had agreed to let Himmler apply his `final Solution of the Problem' to every territory over which the Swastika flew.

For many months past a systematic round-up of the Jews gad been operating, not only in Poland but in France, Belgium, Holland and even countries as distant as Yugoslavia and Bulgaria. As they were too numerous in Central Europe to be 'dealt with at once individually they had, at first, simply been Herded into ghettos in the larger cities. Then concentration camps with gas chambers had been constructed and staffed with Himmler's Einsatzgruppen. To these the Jews were now Being moved in batches and tens of thousands of them had already been liquidated.

In consequence, when Malacou arrived in Ostroleka he had found that all his relatives were either dead or confined to the Warsaw ghetto. Extremely uneasy in mind, but not knowing there else to go and protected by his Turkish passport, he had settled down there and had been living very quietly. But evidently someone who knew he had been born there a Jew, had had a grudge against him, had given him away. Although Gregory had no cause at all to love Malacou, he could not now help feeling sorry for him and was very relieved then the Nazis, having found that his passport was in order, decided not to arrest him until further enquiries had been made into his past.

In the Cabinet War Room on nights when there was no special activity it was customary at about two o'clock in the morning for the four duty officers to lower the lights and doze beside their telephones. That night, soon after Gregory had settled down, he seemed to be watching Malacou. The occultist was now outside his tall, narrow-gabled house in the small town street. With Tarik's help he was loading food into an old fashioned pony trap; and soon after, with Malacou loudly Lamenting as he drove off, it clattered away into the night. 'from this it was evident that he thought it too dangerous to wait the results of the threatened investigation and had decided to leave Ostroleka while he still had the chance. During the fortnight that followed Gregory caught several glimpses of the fugitives. For a week they hid in the depths of a wood, then when he next saw them they were following a narrow track that wound between tall forests of reeds in a desolate area of marsh. Both of them were bowed under

huge bundles strapped to their shoulders, so evidently they had had to abandon the pony and trap. Two days later he saw them again, now installed in a cottage in the middle of the marshes. It was sparsely furnished but had obviously been abandoned for some time, as they were patching a hole in the roof, through which water had seeped leaving stains on a dresser in the living room. He gained the impression that it was a shooting lodge which in happier times had been used for duck shoots by thee owner of some manor house in the vicinity and, owing to its isolated situation; it looked as if Malacou could hope to remain there in safety.

On May 11th a new offensive was launched against the Gustav Line and for the following week the battle in southern Italy again raged with maximum intensity. Then, on the 23rd, the Allies at last succeeded in breaking out of the Anzio bridgehead; but D-Day was just approaching and all thought in the Cabinet Offices was concentrated on the final preparations for it. Quite unexpectedly, Gregory became involved in them when Air Chief Marshal Sir Richard Peck rang him up and asked him to come up to his office in the Air Ministry.

Richard Peck had for some time past held the post of Assistant Chief of Air Staff (G). This entailed handling all the problems that the other Air Chiefs had neither the time nor the inclination to tackle. One job he had taken on of his own initiative was to make himself the Overlord of Air Ministry Press Relations and, one day when lunching with him at a corner table that was always reserved for him at Quaglino's, Gregory had happened to mention that for several years he had earned his living as a foreign correspondent. It was on that account that the Air Chief Marshal had sent for him. Having given Gregory a cigarette, he said:

`Our American friends are extremely generous with their money but by no means so generous about their tributes to the part we are playing in the war. Reading their papers every day, as I do, one would get the impression that Britain has become no more than a base for Uncle Sam's gallant boys to pitch into the Germans. Later, of course, there will be many more American troops fighting on the Continent than there will be British, because their reserves of manpower are much realer than ours. But for Operation " Neptune " the actual landings will be about fifty-fifty. What is more the success or failure of the operation depends entirely on us, because it's the British Navy that's got to put the troops ashore. Even so, you can take it from me that our chaps won't get more than a tiny paragraph in the American dailies. And then it will be on the lines, "poor old Britain is pretty exhausted after the tough time she's been through but she helped us all she could". `Now I want the American people to know the truth and there is one way I can do it: We don't stand a hope with the allies, but we can get signed articles by writers of repute into the weeklies and glossy magazines. To do that I've combed the R.A.F. for well-known authors and others and had them seconded to me for the few days that count to act as temporary war correspondents who will cover the landings. I've got Terence Rattigan, Dennis Wheatley, Christopher Hollis, Hugh Clevely and a score of others and I'm sure you would write a really lively report, so I'd like to have you, too. Are you willing to play?

'Certainly,' Gregory agreed at once. `If Brigadier Jacob will release me from the War Room there's nothing I'd like better than to fly over the beaches.'

The Air Chief Marshal shook his head. `No. In your case let's not on. The same applies to Wheatley. General Ismay as already ruled that no-one employed in the Cabinet Offices must be exposed to the risk of being shot down. They know to much. If they fell into the hands of the enemy and had their thumbs screwed off they might give things away. But don't let that worry you. There will be so much smoke going up from shells and bombs that you wouldn't be able to see the coast of Normandy anyhow. I have a much more interesting assignment for you. I want you to go down to Harwell and see General Gale take off with the 6th Airborne Division. That will be the spearhead of the invasion.'

13

Portrait of a Born General

As A result of his conversation with Sir Richard Peck, on the sunny morning of June 3rd Gregory left London in an Air Ministry car. Owing to the rationing of petrol the Great West Road was almost empty, so the car soon reached Maidenhead. In peacetime the river there would have been gay with picnic parties in punts and launches, but it was now still and deserted. The car sped on past the even lovelier reaches of the upper Thames, then across downlands until over the horizon there appeared the widely spaced hangars of Harwell Aerodrome.

It was a peacetime R.A.F. station with well-designed buildings and commodious quarters, but as it was now also the headquarters of the 6th Airborne Division it was crowded with soldiers as well as airmen. Gregory reported to the Adjutant who took him^- to the mess, where within half an hour he had made a dozen new friends.

Among them was Wing Commander Macnamara, whose aircraft was to tow the glider that would take General Richard Gale to France, and the Station Commander, Group Captain Surplice, who his officers united in saying was the finest C.O. under whom they had ever served. Squadron Leader Pound, a veteran of the First World War and Principal Administrative Officer, then took Gregory to the Briefing Room.

There, behind a locked door with an armed sentry on guard and blacked-out windows, another beribboned veteran was preparing the maps from which the air crews would be briefed when the signal came through that the `party' was definitely on. Then at six o'clock the visitor was taken on a tour of the great airfield with its broad runways and scores of parked

aircraft and gliders. They were wearing their war-paint: special recognition signs painted on only the night before, after the camp had been `sealed'. No-one who now entered it would be permitted to leave or write or telephone from it until the invasion had taken place.

After the drive round, Major Griffiths, who was to pilot the General's glider, took Gregory up for a twenty-minute flight in it. There was a stiff wind so it was a little bumpy, but that did not worry him. The roar from Macnamara's towing -craft came plainly back to them; then, as he cast off, there me a sudden silence and a few minutes later they glided safely back on to a runway.

Next Gregory attended a preliminary briefing. It took the form of a colour film showing a part of France. For those in the long, darkened room it was just as though they were seated a huge aircraft flying over the country shown in the film. Again and again they seemed to be carried over the German held beaches to the fields on which the paratroops were to be dropped and the gliders come down, while the commentator pointed out the principal landmarks by which the pilots could identify their objectives.

Back in the big mess Gregory found it now packed to capacity with equal numbers of officers in khaki and Air Force blue. They all looked wonderfully fit and their morale was terrific. Macnamara introduced him to General Gale, a huge man with a ready laugh, shrewd eyes, a bristling moustache td a bulldog chin.

They soon discovered that they were the same age. `And a damn' good vintage, too,' said the General.

An officer asked the General what weapon he was going to take for the battle. He roared with laughter. `Weapon! What the hell do I want with a weapon? If I have the luck to get near any of those so-and-sos I'll use my boot to kick them in the guts.'

After dinner Gregory drank and laughed with a score of officers; then, as they drifted off to bed, he stayed up for another hour talking to General Gale alone. Among other things they discussed the qualities that make a good leader, and the General said.

`Efficiency; that's the only thing that counts. If the men know that you really know your job, they'll follow you blindly anywhere.'

Gregory did not agree. He argued that efficiency might be nine-tenths^- of the game, but the last tenth was personality. To make his point he instanced that his companion was wearing light grey jodhpurs instead of battle-dress.

`What's that got to do with it?' the General wanted to know. `I wear the damned things because they're comfortable and I hate the feel of that beastly khaki serge.'

`Exactly,' Gregory laughed. `Most people would be shy about dressing differently, but you don't care a hoot. You've the courage of your convictions and if you have them about clothes you must also have them about running your show.'

When they at last went to bed they were a little worried about the weather, but they knew that a postponement of the operation would not even be considered unless it became exceptionally bad. That Saturday night hundreds of ships were already moving to their concentration points, so the security of the whole operation might be jeopardized if the invasion were put off even for a single day.

In the morning the weather had worsened. Nevertheless a Wing Commander Bangey took Gregory up for a flight in one of the paratroop-dropping aircraft. They did a practice run over a diagonal road that had a certain similarity to a road in the target area and the crew went through the exact drill they would follow when they were dropped in France.

Then, when Gregory got back, the blow fell. At 11.30 the. Station Commander sent for him to tell him that the operation would not take place that night.

Both Gregory and General Gale were utterly appalled. They were the only people on the station who realized the full implications of a postponement. There were now over four thousand ships which had moved up in the night and many thousands of smaller craft massed round the Isle of Wight. The enemy had only to send over one recce plane and he would learn that the invasion was just about to start. That would give him twenty-four hours in which to rush additional troops to the French coast and when our troops landed they would find every gun manned.

Worse, the Germans might send their whole bomber force over that Sunday night to the Solent and if they did it must result in the most ghastly massacre among our close-berthed stationary shipping.

Fortunately, no more than a dozen people on the station knew the date that had been decided for D-Day, so remained unaware of the postponement and the terrible consequences that might arise from it. They knew only that, the camp having been sealed, D-Day must be imminent, and their joy was unbounded' at the thought of at last being able to put into real use the drills they had practised for so long. In consequence that night the crowded mess -was a scene of even greater excitement and mirth. Both soldiers and airmen_. Were offering long odds that within a week of the invasion the enemy would collapse and the war be over, but finding few takers. About nine o'clock a sing-song started. The station doctor,-Squadron Leader Evan Jones, produced his accordion and they made the rafters ring with all the old favourites, from She was poor but she was honest' to 'Auld Lang Syne'. Then three-quarters of an hour after midnight Gregory learned from he General's A.D.C. that a signal had just come in. The great decision had been taken. The following night the show was definitely on. - The morning of Monday June 5th passed quietly. Very few people knew as yet that this was D minus 1. But at lunchtime the whispered word went round, `Final briefing at three o'clock.'

For the past week the Italian campaign had become the forgotten front, but while Gregory was still at lunch it was suddenly announced that General Alexander had captured Rome. An outburst of cheering greeted this splendid news and Gregory was particularly delighted, because everybody in he War Cabinet Offices regarded `Alex' as by far the best of our Generals, and that his triumph should not have been spoilt by coming after D-Day was a most happy occurrence. In the afternoon there were three briefings, each taking an your, for the three separate but coordinated operations.

Major- General Crawford, _ the Director of Air Operations War Office, had arrived from London and with him was Air Vice-Marshal Hollinghurst, the A.O.C. of the Group. Group Captain Surplice opened the proceedings. by reading Orders of the Day from General Eisenhower and the Air Commanderin-Chief, Sir Trafford Leigh-Mallory. Then, having run through the general lay-out, he asked General Gale to describe the part his Division was to play.

The General said that his task was to protect the left flank of the Allied Armies. To achieve- this three landings would be made to the east of the River Orne. It was imperative that a large fortified battery that enfiladed the assault beaches should be silenced. One of the first parties to land would raid a small chateau and seize a car known to be in its garage. Two paratroopers, both Austrians, would drive the car hell-for-leather towards the steel gates of the emplacement, shoutingin German, `Open the gates! Open the gates! The invasion has started.'