Cousin hung his head for a moment, then looked up and answered grimly:
“I heard about it. Frankly, sir, I can’t bring myself to feel sorry for him. That’s too much to expect.”
“No one’s asking you to,” said Dr. Fog.
Cousin’s attitude seemed rather tough, to Austin’s way
of thinking. Yet his state of mind was understandable. After living for months on end under nerve-racking conditions, surrounded by all sorts of danger, successfully eluding the countless traps set by the enemy, and then seeing his efforts suddenly sabotaged, his hopes destroyed by the miserable weakness of a subordinate—all this more than explained his bitterness.
“It’s just possible you may be given another mission in France,” Dr. Fog declared after a moment's silence.
“I know you won’t object to that.”
“I couldn’t ask for anything better, sir. You must give me another chance.”
“Austin will keep you posted. Naturally you won’t be able to use your own name again. You’ll have to change your identity. We’ve got some experts who’ll attend to that. Go and see this one.”
He gave him an address, accompanied him as far as the door, and held out his hand.
“Thank you,” said Cousin, and that was all.
After he had gone, Dr. Fog subsided into a deep reverie from which Austin made no attempt to rouse him, feeling rather inclined to meditation himself. The doctor seemed to be debating with himself over some serious decision. He came down to earth eventually and made a gesture as though to sweep aside some unwelcome objection.
“The die is cast. We’ll send him back, Austin. I’ll give you all the details of the role I have in mind for him. I don’t want to see him again myself. You’re the one who’ll give him his orders . . . and keep an eye on him, if necessary,” he added lightly.
“I see you still have some reservations about him, sir. That being so, I’m amazed you entrust him with an important mission.”
“He may be extremely useful to us in certain circumstances,” Dr. Fog replied. “He’s intelligent. He’s sharp. He has a highly developed psychological sense. You don’t find qualities like that every day of the week, and they’re just the ones that are needed for the duties I have in mind for him. He won’t be given the same field of activity as he had before. He’ll be working on his own, in a watertight compartment. Well, not quite alone . . . He’ll have someone with him constantly, to witness his actions and make him feel conscious of a watchful eye upon him.”
Austin gave a knowing grin, thinking that this role would be entrusted to him. He felt slightly abashed as the doctor went on:
“A reliable colleague who can act as a radio operator.”
“I bet you’ve already found the man you need, sir,” said Austin testily.
“A woman, Austin. A couple is always less suspect. Yes, I've already found her. The more I think of it, the more convinced I am that my choice is a good one. With her. I’m pretty sure he’ll toe the line. Furthermore, she knows every inch of the region to which I want to send him. It’s where she comes from; she’s a Breton. But of course, you know her—she’s mentioned in our man’s file. Can’t you guess who it is? Come, come now! I’m referring to Claire.”
“Morvan’s sister!”
“His sister, exactly. She already belongs to the service. She’s an excellent radio operator . . . and she’s also volunteered for the field. Don’t you think it’s a first-rate idea?”
“But sir,” exclaimed Austin, who thought it a monstrous choice, “surely you’re not going to team her up with Cousin? It’s impossible!”
“On the contrary, that’s exactly what I plan to do. What’s biting you, Austin?”
“Well, sir, I feel ... I feel it’s a sort of confidence trick. If she knew, she’d never accept for a moment.”
“Don't worry about that. She does know.”
“She knows?”
“She had already heard something about the case, and I’ve hidden hardly anything from her myself.”
“Then she can't possibly be willing to go back with him.”
“That's just where you're wrong, my lad,” Dr. Fog replied, lowering his voice and assuming a tone full of hidden meaning; “that’s just where you’re wrong. She has volunteered twice to go back with him.”
Austin tried to fathom the doctor's inmost thoughts but soon gave it up as a hopeless task. He felt he was being caught in a web of Machiavellian intrigue of which his chief held all the threads and that had been spun with no other consideration than the aim in view. Dr. Fog noticed his uneasiness.