own convictions, and of a dull brute whose only reaction to pain was to scream.
He endured the torture no less than eight times. Nothing more could be added to his triumph. He was frightened he might faint if he submitted any longer to the mystic state into which he had been plunged by this overwhelming mixture of physical pain and mental exaltation. He placed the capsule between his teeth. As the mother lifted the poker yet again, her features contorted with fury, he looked her straight in the eyes, brought his jaws together, and in one gulp swallowed the liquid along with the bits of broken glass. He felt the jolt of the poison instantly and lost consciousness, regretting he was unable to prolong the enjoyment of his victory forever.
35
“I saw him on the sofa when I finally steeled myself to enter the room. But I didn’t stay there
long. The smell and the smoke ... It was really hellish, sir. I couldn’t even bring myself to examine him properly. A rapid glance ... I saw he was dead, all right. I opened the window and hurried out. It was Claire who told me the story, bit by bit—not a word from the mother, of course—and even then I had to bully her before she would talk, between one fit of hys- terics and the next.
“I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it,” she kept saying over and over again. “It was all make-believe. Mother had promised. We were only going to frighten him. He was a coward; I was convinced the mere threat would be enough. I didn’t mean it to go any further. I expected him to give in; I was sure he would sign when he saw the red-hot iron.”
“Extremely sound reasoning for a young girl," Dr. Fog observed. “Only this time he did not give in.”
“He did not give in, sir. And if he put up such resistance . . .”
The doctor's composure seemed to aggravate Austin’s feelings.
“If he put up such resistance, that proves he didn’t talk the first time. Morvan was the traitor. It was criminal of us to leave him like that at the mercy of those two raving women.”
“Do you think so?” Dr. Fog remarked gently. “Incidentally, what did you do with his body?”
Austin gave a shrug. This detail seemed to be of small importance compared to the problem that was preying on his mind. He began to reply in an offhand manner, then saw in this subject a fresh opportunity to voice his indignation.
“We buried him in the forest. As you can imagine, I didn’t think it was right or proper to leave the body of a patriot lying there like that or to stuff it away in the cellar, like the other one. I felt the least we owed him was a decent burial. I took the risk of moving him in broad daylight. The old woman had disappeared—I don’t know what has become of her since, incidentally—but I forced Claire to help me. I kept her at it until she was ready to drop. I was prepared to beat her, torture her even, if she made any fuss; but she obeyed without any protest. We carried him as far as we could and buried him in a deep hole. I made her kneel by the side of the grave. I was a bit on edge, sir.”
“I can well believe it,” the doctor said sympathetically.
“In spite of all my precautions, I’m still afraid the Germans may find him."
“They haven’t found him."
Austin looked up in surprise as the doctor walked across to the far end of the room.
“They haven’t found him,” he repeated. “If they had, they wouldn’t have taken the trouble to send me this. Listen."
It was the tape recording. Austin heard Cousin’s voice, at first with amazement, then with mounting excitement. When it came to an end he fell silent for a long time, dumfounded, a prey to a mixture of emotions he was unable to explain. Eventually, under the piercing gaze of Dr. Fog, he said stupidly:
“So it was true?"
The doctor nodded.
“And they sent you the tape?"
“With their compliments. Rather neat, I must say. Otto, I suppose, discovered Gleicher’s body. He must have realized Arvers had led them up the garden path and made his getaway, so he hastened to put his threat into action. You may be sure there is more than one copy of this document. . . . But that isn’t all, Austin. In the package, which was delivered to us by devious means, there was also a long letter giving precise details about the Lachaume farm incident. Otto reopened investigations and seems to have gone to a great deal of trouble to reach a definite verdict. A vindictive creature, I imagine, that Otto, and furious at having been duped. . . . To cut a long story short, it’s now absolutely clear that Morvan could not have been killed by the two Gestapo men. Do you realize what that implies?”
“You mean to say it was . . . ?”
“Put yourself in his place. He could not allow such a witness to live.”
Austin shuddered. Dr. Fog gave a shrug.
“I’d always suspected that, anyway,” he observed nonchalantly.
Austin, who was beginning to derive some consolation from the proof that Cousin was a criminal, was revolted by this admission.
“And knowing that all the time, sir, you sent him back there with Morvan’s sister!”
“He was still of potential value to us,” said the doctor, “but only in conjunction with the Morvan family. Events have proved I was right. Mind you, I couldn’t have foreseen everything, but at least he eliminated Gleicher as a dangerous enemy—albeit a somewhat ingenuous one, like most amateurs in this business.”