N or M_ - Agatha Christie [50]
‘Ah!’ said Tommy, and added, ‘Shall we play the bye? Might as well get a bit more exercise. It’s a lovely evening.’
They drove off, then separated to play their next shots. When they met again on the green, Haydock said abruptly:
‘Tell me what you heard about him.’
‘Nothing–nothing at all.’
‘No need to be so cautious with me, Meadowes. I hear all sorts of rumours. You understand? Everyone comes to me. I’m known to be pretty keen on the subject. What’s the idea–that Bletchley isn’t what he seems to be?’
‘It was only the merest suggestion.’
‘What do they think he is? A Hun? Nonsense, the man’s as English as you and I.’
‘Oh, yes, I’m sure he’s quite all right.’
‘Why, he’s always yelling for more foreigners to be interned. Look how violent he was against that young German chap–and quite right, too, it seems. I heard unofficially from the Chief Constable that they found enough to hang von Deinim a dozen times over. He’d got a scheme to poison the water supply of the whole country and he was actually working out a new gas–working on it in one of our factories. My God, the short-sightedness of our people! Fancy letting the fellow inside the place to begin with. Believe anything, our Government would! A young fellow has only to come to this country just before war starts and whine a bit about persecution, and they shut both eyes and let him into all our secrets. They were just as dense about that fellow Hahn–’
Tommy had no intention of letting the Commander run ahead on the well-grooved track. He deliberately missed a putt.
‘Hard lines,’ cried Haydock. He played a careful shot. The ball rolled into the hole.
‘My hole. A bit off your game today. What were we talking about?’
Tommy said firmly:
‘About Bletchley being perfectly all right.’
‘Of course. Of course. I wonder now–I did hear a rather funny story about him–didn’t think anything of it at the time–’
Here, to Tommy’s annoyance, they were hailed by two other men. The four returned to the clubhouse together and had drinks. After that, the Commander looked at his watch and remarked that he and Meadowes must be getting along. Tommy had accepted an invitation to supper with the Commander.
Smugglers’ Rest was in its usual condition of apple-pie order. A tall middle-aged manservant waited on them with the professional deftness of a waiter. Such perfect service was somewhat unusual to find outside of a London restaurant.
When the man had left the room, Tommy commented on the fact.
‘Yes, I was lucky to get Appledore.’
‘How did you get hold of him?’
‘He answered an advertisement as a matter of fact. He had excellent references, was clearly far superior to any of the others who applied and asked remarkably low wages. I engaged him on the spot.’
Tommy said with a laugh:
‘The war has certainly robbed us of most of our good restaurant service. Practically all good waiters were foreigners. It doesn’t seem to come naturally to the Englishman.’
‘Bit too servile, that’s why. Bowing and scraping doesn’t come kindly to the English bulldog.’
Sitting outside, sipping coffee, Tommy gently asked:
‘What was it you were going to say on the links? Something about a funny story–apropos of Bletchley.’
‘What was it now? Hallo, did you see that? Light being shown out at sea. Where’s my telescope?’
Tommy sighed. The stars in their courses seemed to be fighting against him. The Commander fussed into the house and out again, swept the horizon with his glass, outlined a whole system of signalling by the enemy to likely spots on shore, most of the evidence for which seemed to be non-existent, and proceeded to give a gloomy picture of a successful invasion in the near future.
‘No organisation, no proper co-ordination. You’re an LDV yourself, Meadowes–you know what it’s like. With a man like old Andrews in charge–’
This was well-worn ground. It was Commander Haydock’s pet grievance. He ought to be the man in command and he was quite determined to oust Col Andrews if it could possibly be done.
The manservant