‘No,’ I said. ‘I don’t know. I think he had some papers with him, but I don’t know what they are. If you like I can bring them down to you?’
The sergeant nodded. ‘Bueno. If you will take them to the office of the douane down by the harbour, senor, they will be stamped. There is no necessity for him to come himself. Also, there is this paper to be completed.’ He handed me the usual immigration form. ‘As soon as he is sufficiently recovered, perhaps you will have him fill it in and bring it with you to the douane.’
‘Very well.’ As I opened the door for them, I asked the sergeant why the police were interested in Dr Kavan.
‘Oh, it is not we who are interested,’ he replied. ‘It is the British Consulate. It is they who ask us to watch for him.’
‘But why?’ I asked. ‘Were you going to arrest him or something?’
‘No. They just wish us to check his papers and report to them. I will inform them that he did not sail after all. Muy buenas, sefior.’
‘Muy buenas.’
I closed the door and turned to Kavan. His eyes were open now and he was listening to the tramp of their feet as they descended the stairs. He was still pale, but his eyes were alert. ‘Were you shamming?’ I said.
‘Ssh!’ He gestured for me to be quiet. ‘Go to the window and check that both of them leave the hotel.’
I walked to the window and pulled the curtains. A jeep was parked down in the street. As I peered out, the sergeant and the Customs officer came out of the hotel and got into it. There was the sound of a starter and then it drove off, turning down towards the plage. ‘They’ve gone,’ I said.
He breathed a sigh of relief and pulled himself up in the bed. ‘Now we’ll fix Wade’s passport. After that everything is straightforward. Will you telephone for a doctor, please?’
He was suddenly calm. He seemed to have no conception of the position he had put me in. I was angry and a little scared. Why couldn’t foreigners behave rationally? And now there was the problem of papers, passports, and official documents. I had committed myself without thinking about that. ‘You know the British Consulate are making inquiries about you?’ I said. And then, when he didn’t answer, I asked him why he’d had to pretend to be Wade. ‘What have you done that you have to hide your own identity?’
He looked at me then and said quietly, ‘I haven’t done anything.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ I said sharply. ‘When you saw the police, you panicked. You must have done something. If you want my help, you’d better tell me—’
‘I have done nothing,’ he repeated. ‘Absolutely nothing. Please, you must believe me. I have done nothing that you or any other British person can object to. I give you my word.’
‘Then why pretend to be Wade?’
He pushed his hands through his hair, which was soil dull and sticky with salt water. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Not yet. Maybe when I know you better — when we are out of Tangier.’ He lifted his head and stared out of the window. ‘I came here to start a new life. I have to sail here because it’s the only way I can get out of England. I am a stateless person, you see. And then the owner is lost overboard, the yacht is wrecked and, when I’m brought ashore, I find the police waiting for me there on the beach and asking me if I am Dr Jan Kavan. And then the man Kostos mistakes me for Wade.’ He looked up at me quickly. ‘What would you do? What would you do if you were in my shoes? It’s a gift from the gods. I accept it.’ His shoulders sagged and his voice fell away to a whisper: ‘And then I find my wife waiting there to greet me also — and she turns away because I have said I am Wade.’
He stared down at his feet, his pale hands gripped convulsively round his knees. ‘Last night -1 thought and thought, trying to find a way out. And then, this morning, I wake up and find the police here, and I’m scared. When you’re scared, the mind works very fast. I suddenly knew this was the only way out. I must be Wade. I must continue to be Wade until I am safe inside French Morocco. If I admit I am Jan Kavan, then there will be an inquiry into Wade’s disappearance and—’
‘Why should that worry you?’ I demanded. ‘You said last night—’
‘I told you the truth,’ he cut in quickly, and then glanced at me nervously as though trying to discover whether I believed him or not. ‘But I can’t tell them the truth,’ he added. ‘Once they know I’m Jan Kavan’ — he hesitated — ‘they will send me back to England. I know they will. I feel it. And I must get to Morocco. I must get to Morocco.’ He looked at me. ‘Please. You want a doctor, don’t you? You want a doctor for your Mission?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Then you must let me enter French Morocco on Wade’s passport.’
‘But why should they send you back to England? What makes you think—’
‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ he shouted at me. His voice had that upward trend that it had had the night before when he’d been half hysterical with exhaustion. ‘Just leave it at that. Leave it at that.’
‘All right,’ I said, for he was in a desperately nervous state. ‘But if you enter Morocco on Wade’s passport, your own papers will have no entry stamp. You can’t work at the Mission unless your papers are in order.’
‘I understand.’ He nodded, his forehead wrinkled in thought. ‘But that is something we can sort out later. Maybe I lose my papers, maybe I forge the necessary stamp. I don’t know. But first I must get to Morocco. That is the important thing. And I can’t do that except on Wade’s passport.’
‘But, good heavens, man!’ I said. ‘You’re not Wade’s double, surely. There’s the photograph — the description and his signature, too — you’d never get away with it.’
‘Nonsense,’ he said, his tone suddenly more confident. ‘Do you think I learned nothing during the war? I was six years working in the laboratories at Essen and passing information to the British. Besides, don’t forget I have been shipwrecked.’ He dragged himself to his feet, standing a little unsteadily. And then his voice was suddenly agitated again. ‘Where’s the oilskin bag? I had a little oilskin bag tied round my neck. I had all the papers in it — everything. Did you see it? It wasn’t left on the beach, was it?’
‘No, it’s here somewhere,’ I said. I crossed over to the bed, wishing now that I’d had a look at it last night. ‘It’s among the bedclothes. I threw it here last night.’
But it wasn’t on the bed. It had slipped off on to the couch and was lying under the counterpane. He almost snatched it out of my hand as I held it out to him. ‘You’d better have some food,’ I suggested.
But he shook his head. ‘Not until I’ve seen a doctor.’ He suddenly smiled. It was almost as though the feel of that oilskin bag in his hands had given him back his confidence. ‘If he’s a good doctor, he’ll tell me I’m suffering from lack of food and if the police bother to enquire, they will not be surprised if I recover quickly’
Curiously, I found myself liking him. Behind the nervous tension and the almost neurotic fear of the authorities was a man of considerable personality, a man of drive and energy. Whatever he had done, whatever he was afraid of, he had guts. ‘What are you going to do about the passport?’ I asked.
‘Oh, that’s not too difficult,’ he said, shaking the contents of the oilskin bag out on to the bed. ‘Wade was about my build and colouring. He even had blue eyes-He was thinner and more wiry, that’s all.’ He tossed the blue-covered British passport across to me. ‘I’ll have to fix the photograph, of course.’
The passport was slightly damp, otherwise there was nothing to show that it had come through the surf of Jew’s Bay. On the first page there was the man’s name — Mr Roland Tregareth Wade — and on the next his description: Profession — Company director; Place of birth and date — St Austell, 10 April 1915; Residence — France; Height — 5 ft 11 ins; Colour of eyes — blue: Colour of hair — black. I turned the page and looked at the photograph. It showed him to be a rather good-looking man with a square forehead and black hair. But the cheeks were a little heavy, the broad, full-lipped mouth rather too easy-going, and there were link pouches under the eyes. It wasn’t a dissipated face and:: wasn’t a dishonest face, but somehow it wasn’t quite frank — it was the face of a man about whom one would have reservations.