The Heat of the Day by Elizabeth Bowen Read Free Book Online

never have volunteered any information as to what you do do; these days it is inevitable that everybody should be doing something, and that in most cases one doesn't ask what. Let's certainly take it, then, that you _are__ a counterspy, which I understand to be some sort of spy twice over, and that you're officially employed. In that case, if I may ask, what _are__ you doing? Employed and accredited as you are, you go out of your way to tell me--remember, I never asked--that you are on to, or working around the edge of, something exceedingly dangerous to this country and our conduct of war. You've traced, or are tracing, a leakage of information in which X number of people may be involved? If that _is__ true, it's vital--and if it's vital surely the preessential should be absolute secrecy, silence? But, oh no. You brag--no, let's put it calmly and say you talk--to me about your power to tip scales. Assuming you have that power, you wouldn't, I take it, have it without having been given immense responsibility. You may even, as you hint, be a key man. Very well, then--what? Your behaviour staggers me. _Is__ this country really so badly served? What do you do?--You ask yourself to this flat and turn in, attempt to trade in, this information with a view to getting a woman you think you want. You attempt to use what you know to implement blackmail. You propose that by becoming your mistress I buy out a man, in whom I have an interest, who is by your showing dangerous to the country. That is what you are proposing?--stop me if I am wrong.... Very well. You've bludgeoned me with your perpetual 'we'--your 'we' is my 'they': what view would '_they__' take of that? Is there any reason why I should not report you--your attempts to make use, for amorous reasons, of official secrets at a most crucial time? I cannot say I am pleased to be the woman you want--but what's a good deal more the point is, I am not the right woman to try this on with. If I should in my turn decide to turn something in, I shouldn't fail to see that it went to the right quarter. I am not a woman who does not know where to go. You would be sorry, you say, if I sunk Robert. How would it be if I sank you?" Harrison, throughout this, had not shifted from Stella's face a look of patience and admiration. When she stopped, he returned to himself with a slight start. "Absolutely," he agreed. "You would certainly have me there." She sat more upright than ever, pressing together in her lap hands which, she found, trembled. "Or, I should say, could have me. (You've got a first-rate head: that's one thing I like.) But for _one__ thing, that is." "Oh. What?" He said warmly: "All you said sounded fine--you'd do right, as you say, to go straight ahead. But there's this.--Do you imagine I am the only one who's got your friend taped? In that case, I should have made myself plainer: I must say I thought I had. No, to put me out wouldn't close the case against him: in point of fact it would have the reverse effect. You're not only the most charming woman, if I may say so; you're also officially known to have quite a heart. That is--how should I put it?--where our friend's concerned. Your interest in Robert has, with everything else concerning him, been of some interest elsewhere for quite a time now--yes, I may say I was pretty well up to date with that particular story before I met you. You say you'd know where to go, and I've no doubt you would--but do you imagine that by the time you got there anyone there would imagine you'd gone _straight__ there? If you hadn't gone round by Robert's to drop the word to him, it would none the less be assumed you had--a woman's always a woman, and so on. The gaff would be taken as blown; the game would be taken as up. Oh yes, you'd be seen to the door with handshakings and many sincere thanks--but I'm prepared to say, practically before you were into your taxi, the word would go out and your friend Robert would be where a number of people (I don't