I made my bed and collected my washing things. Langdon was on Stand-to that night, having changed with Bombardier Hood because there was a party at the sergeants’ mess the following night. He raised no objection to my request for a bath. It was the only excuse I had for leaving the gun site at that time. The showers were in the big permanent blocks to the west of the hangars.
I made straight for the educational block. There was no moon yet and it was beginning to get really dark with clouds coming up from the west. It looked like rain.
The trouble was that I had not studied my terrain. I had found out roughly how to reach Vayle’s rooms. But I naturally presumed that if he was out he would have locked the door. Some alternative method or entry had to be found. At the most I had about forty minutes in which to carry out the whole scheme. A bath couldn’t possibly take longer and I did not want to upset Langdon. I decided to risk everything on a roof climb.
But first I had to make certain that Vayle hadn’t changed his plans and stayed in. I went straight into the educational block and up the stairs. The ground floor was composed of two big lecture rooms, one with desks and the other full of a litter of band instruments and sports kit. Upstairs were two large recreation rooms with a billiard table and table tennis. These rooms, like the two downstairs, were separated by sliding partitions. At the far end was the library, which was very well supplied with technical books. It was above the library that Vayle’s rooms were situated.
I tossed my washing things on to a chair in the farther recreation room, and then, making certain that the players were all engrossed in their snooker game, I crossed the passage and climbed the short flight of stairs that led to Vayle’s green-painted front door.
I rang the bell. It sounded faintly in the rooms beyond. Then I turned the handle of the door. As I had expected, it was locked. Worse still, it was a Yale lock. I had two Yale keys amongst my collection. I tried them, but they would not even fit into the keyway. To break in was out of the question. The door looked solid and any noise would bring the snooker players out. The roof was the only chance.
I went back down the stairs and out into the fast-gathering dark. A quick glance at the front of the building, still dimly visible, told me that there was no way up there. Anyway, I should have been seen. I went round to the back, through a narrow alleyway between the Educational and the bulk of Station Headquarters. It was quieter here and there was a screen of faded laurel bushes.
I gazed up at the side of the building. There was a drainpipe. But I was in no doubt about my ability to climb drainpipes. The Educational was not a tall building, compared with the big blocks of the living-quarters and Station Headquarters which surrounded it. Moreover, it had a sloping roof and gables. It had, I think, at one time been a house. The aerodrome had grown up round it, and it had been added to as the needs of education and recreation increased. It was in the older, gabled part that Vayle’s rooms were.
I had hoped to find a skylight. But as far as I could see there was none. My eyes drifted over the windows. They were casement type, and one was slightly open. It looked like a bathroom window, for it was smaller than the rest and appeared to be of frosted glass. Below it were pipes. And below them and a little to the right was what originally, I suppose, had been the kitchens, but they had been converted into a cloakroom.
It seemed the only chance. I was wearing canvas shoes. I might just be able to make it. I slipped through the archway of the laurel hedge and climbed on to the sill of the outhouse window. A press-up on the guttering, which fortunately held, and I had made the roof. From now on I was above the shelter of the hedge and risked being seen. I pressed forward as quickly as possible.
The roof was steep, but I made the ridge of it with an effort. By standing upright on it against the wall of the main building, the bathroom pipes were about level with my chin and the sill of the window I was making for was only just out of reach.
I glanced round. I could now see beyond the laurel hedge and the grass space behind it to the barrack blocks. A door opened and two figures emerged. I waited until they were out of sight round the angle of Station Headquarters. There was now no-one in sight that I could see. I turned back to the wall and measured the distance to the sill above my head. My muscles felt weak yet tensed. If I failed to grip it or if I had not the strength to pull myself up, I had only the sharp edge of the roof to land back on.
I hesitated. Twice I nerved myself for the spring, and twice my nerve failed me at the last moment. And then suddenly I had jumped, pressing up with my right hand to the wastepipe. My fingers grazed the edge of the sill and closed on it. I hung for a second, my muscles slack, taking the weight of my body on my left hand. Then with a wriggle I forced myself upwards, exerting all the energy of both arms and scrabbling against the brickwork with my feet.
I thought I should never make it. But a final effort and my knee was on the wastepipe beside my right hand. After that it was easy. I got both hands on the sill and pressed up until I was standing on the wastepipe. I pulled the window wide open and wriggled through. Before closing it again I looked out towards the barrack blocks. One man was just going in the door. But he showed no signs of having just witnessed anything unusual. Otherwise, there was not a soul in sight.
So far so good. I closed the window and lit a match, shielding the flame with my hand. It was a bathroom and lavatory combined. I opened the door and found myself in a narrow passage. The last flicker of my match showed me the front door at the other end — only this time I was looking at the inside of it. I went on tiptoe down the passage. There were two doors leading off to the right. I opened the first slightly. There was no sound and it was very dark, for the blackout curtains were drawn. I switched on the light. It was a bedroom. There was no-one there. It was a cold, bare-looking room with cream-distempered walls and an over-modern gas fire. The other room, which also proved to be empty, was more cheerful. There was a heavily banked-up fire in the grate — a clear indication that Vayle had gone out for the evening. The walls were covered with a pleasant biscuit-coloured paper which gave an illusion of sunlight, the curtains were a dark green, and there were one or two tasteful little water-colours on the walls. To the right of the fireplace was a bookcase, to the left a radiogram. But what interested me most was the big, old-fashioned roll-top desk under the window.
I decided to start on this, as the most likely repository for the clue for which I was seeking. My luck seemed definitely in — the desk was open. I pushed back the roll-top to find myself confronted by an untidy litter of papers, books, note-books and pocket-worn letters. I glanced at my watch. It was twenty to ten. I had thirty-five minutes in which to carry out my search and get back to the site. It didn’t seem long when I had no idea what it was that I was looking for. I began methodically to go through the litter. But as I proceeded I discarded caution in favour of speed. What did it matter if he found out that someone had searched his rooms. In fact, it might help. It might scare him into the open. In any case, it was quite clear that he had already decided to get me out of the camp one way or the other.
It took the better part of quarter of an hour to go through that desk with all its drawers and pigeon-holes. In the end I reached such a frantic state that I was just throwing the stuff on to the floor as soon as I had glanced at it. There were books on tactics and military history, books on dynamics and ballistics and higher mathematics, mixed up with red paper-covered books filled with notes in a clear, rather ornamental hand. There were bills, masses of them, demand notes, letters from friends. These last I paid particular attention to. But they seemed harmless enough. In fact, when I had been through the contents of the desk and emptied the last drawer on the carpet, I knew nothing more about Vayle’s activities than I had done before, except that he was a reluctant payer of bills, a first-class mathematician, something of an expert on military history and tactics, and a man who had a large circle of friends.