She had never seen any of them before in her life; but of course, they had to take responsibility for all sorts of strays like herself. No wonder the one with the lawyer’s face, for all his smooth expression of reassurance, fixed his snapping legal eyes on her as if he detested her. As if it wasn’t enough to have an English attaché shot, an English student had to get herself arrested on suspicion of having shot him!
“I beg your pardon, Major Kriebel! Miss Barber should know her rights, she should have time to think, but I realise that you have an urgent duty to do. Have I your permission to speak to her before you question her?”
“By all means! In my presence, of course, at this stage, but, I assure you, quite freely.” Kriebel was on impregnable ground, at least pending the medical and ballistic reports; he could afford to be generous. “Miss Barber, these gentlemen are from the British Embassy in Prague. They are here to look after your interests in this unfortunate situation. Please, Counsellor!”
“My name is Charles Freeling,” said the lawyer. “I am counsellor to the embassy. And this is Adrian Blagrove, who is assisting us with the preparation of some technical data for translation, in connection with the new trade agreement consultations. I brought him along because he used at one time to work with your late stepfather, and naturally he’d like to assist you if he can. And here,” he indicated the man in the tweed jacket, who came forward with a sudden brief, kind smile, rueful and charming, “here is Sir Broughton Phelps, whose name will be known to you, I’m sure. Sir Broughton happened to be on holiday in the White Carpathians, I took the liberty of passing on word to him about you when the news came in.”
Yes, that, at least, was a name she knew. So the Director of the Marrion Research Institute “happened” to be on holiday here! And hadn’t she heard the other name before, too? Blagrove? Hadn’t Robert Welland mentioned him as the new Security Officer? The man who had stepped into Herbert Terrell’s shoes? And suddenly he turned up here, “assisting with the preparation of technical data for translation!”
The shock of enlightenment helped to brace her. Here to look after her interests? They were here, and here in desperate haste, to make sure she gave nothing away. That granted, no doubt they’d do their diplomatic best for her.
“Your stepfather was on my staff, my dear.” Sir Broughton took her hand, looking down at her with his warm, worried smile. “I shall be only too glad if I can do anything to help you. Freeling was trying to contact me most of the night, it seems. They managed to reach me early this morning at Topolcianky. I’ve been fishing down in that district.” She’d been right about the flies. “I shouldn’t worry too much, you know. You haven’t done anything you shouldn’t, have you? Then it’s only a question of telling your story sensibly, and having a little confidence in the authorities.”
A beautifully ambiguous reassurance, but she correctly interpreted the warning.
“It was very good of you all,” she said dutifully, “to rush to help me like this. I’m afraid you must have spent the night driving.”
“Blagrove and I came in to Poprad by air taxi, early this morning,” said Freeling. “Sir Broughton drove up from Topolcianky. We were very grateful for such prompt notification of poor Welland’s death and your situation, and for Major Kriebel’s courtesy in allowing us to see you at once. Now, the main thing is that you should think carefully, both about your rights and your responsibilities, and do nothing in haste. No one can demand a statement from you, you must realise that.”
“No one is demanding it,” she said. “I want to make it. I told Lieutenant Ondrejov some things that weren’t true, last night. I want to put them right.”
She was saying, it seemed, all the things one should not say. Everything was topsy-turvy, only her enemies looked pleased with her, especially Ondrejov, who was beaming so brightly that his blue eyes were pale as aquamarines in his brick-red face. The embassy party looked painstakingly benevolent but inwardly frantic; even Sir Broughton, the most human of the three, was frowning at her admonishingly.
The pause of glee and consternation was abruptly interrupted by a loud, peremptory voice in the outer room, speaking unmistakable English. Tossa pricked up her ears apprehensively, unwilling to trust what they told her. She looked round for someone who would be quick to understand, and found herself appealing directly to Ondrejov.
“That’s somebody else for me, I’m afraid. I know him, he’s—he’s a friend of my mother’s.” How could she say, with these people still employing the mourning note when they spoke of Terrelclass="underline" “He’s going to marry my mother.”?
Ondrejov got up and went into the outer room, closing the door between; and presently reappeared with a wooden face, ushering in before him a large, angry, black-avised man in an incongruous business suit, who descended upon Tossa like a perturbed thundercloud.
“For God’s sake, girl,” demanded Paul Newcombe, “what have you been up to? Here’s your mother phoning me in Vienna to say she’s had word from some chap called Welland that you’re prowling round the regions where poor old Herbert got killed, and will I please find out what you’re up to, and tell you to stop it. And when I come in from Austria to the address she says you put on your card home—and a hell of a job I had finding the place!—I’m told you and your friends have gone, and I’ll find you here. Here, at the police station! What in the world’s been happening?”
Tossa sat shaken and pale. It was going to begin all over again, every one of them worse than the one before. She was going to hate this one as she’d hated Terrell; there was no escape. She looked past the looming shape that was without authority, straight at the two Slovaks who were looking on with such narrow and considering interest.
“Major Kriebel, this is Paul Newcombe. He is not related to me, but as a friend of my mother’s I suppose he feels responsible for me. Mr. Newcombe, I was just going to make a statement to Major Kriebel and Lieutenant Ondrejov. It ought to answer all your questions. And with their permission I should still like to make it.”
“By all means.” Kriebel was moving now partly by guesswork, but not entirely; he had exchanged one rapid glance with Ondrejov, and though nothing appeared to be communicated, something had certainly been understood. “Gentlemen, if you will allow Miss Barber to speak without interruption, you may remain. It is a concession I need not make, but I will make it.” Ondrejov’s aloof expression and slightly raised brows had said eloquently: “Please yourself, it’s your funeral. But I wouldn’t!”
“Comrade Lieutenant, will you take down Miss Barber’s voluntary statement?”
“The reason I told some untruths last night, and persuaded Mr. Felse to tell them, too, against his advice, was because I was afraid of becoming more deeply involved if I told the truth. I thought I could give you all the relevant details about Mr. Welland’s death, without coming right out and saying that I came here for a special purpose of my own. I persuaded my friends to come, too, and spend the holiday here with me, because my stepfather had died in Zbojská Dolina, and I wasn’t satisfied about his death, and wanted to see the place for myself. I met Mr. Welland when he was on leave in London, and we talked about it, and he promised me to look into it himself. But I still wanted to come. I didn’t tell him that, and he knew nothing about it until he saw us at Zilina, on our way here. Evidently he didn’t approve, since it seems he notified my mother.”