Traitors' Gate Read Free Page B

gulps.
    Having annexed a slightly more modest ration, Gregory asked, ‘Now, what about it?’
    Sir Pellinore carried his glass over to an arm-chair, sat down, stretched out his long legs and muttered: ‘Damned if I know. If you were a Colonel and wanted to be a Brigadier, I don’t doubt I could get you transferred to a job that carries that rank. If you wanted to shift a quarter of a million in gold from Arabia to Peru, I could fix it for you. If you had a yen for an O.B.E. I’d have your name pushed in well up in the next Honours List. But this is a very different kettle of fish. You have received a summons under an order decreed by Parliament,and even Cabinet Ministers can’t monkey with the law.’
    ‘Oh come! Miners, factory workers, agricultural labourers, and all sorts of other people get exemption; but their bosses have to make the application for them, and you are mine.’
    ‘What would you have me put you down as? Olga Petrovsky, my beautiful spy? Be your age, boy! We couldn’t let the little office wallahs who handle these sort of things get even an inkling of the truth.’
    ‘You could say that I was your confidential secretary.’
    ‘No damn fear. Too many people are aware that you are not.’
    ‘Well; what’s to be done, then?’
    ‘The obvious thing is for me to get you put on the strength of one of the cloak and dagger outfits; then a chit would be sent from the War House putting you in the clear. Of course, these shows are under bureaucratic control just like all the rest, as far as their establishments are concerned; so you’d be graded, paid accordingly and expected to earn the money.’
    ‘Then I’d probably have to work in an office sifting other people’s reports for hours on end every day, or find myself bundled off abroad to some place that I have already made too hot to hold me. No, thank you.’
    Sir Pellinore took another gulp of sherry. ‘Does that mean you’ve had your fill of spying? Be a thunderin’ pity—seeing you’re so good at it. Still, after all the
coups
you’ve pulled off no one could blame you if you decided to swallow your vest pocket camera—or whatever is a spy’s equivalent for a sailor’s anchor.’
    ‘No. It’s the most exciting game in the world; and any time that you want me to undertake another mission I’ll go back into Germany for you. But I’ve got
some
common sense, and I’d like still to be alive at the end of the war. If I let myself be made into a small time operator and make a regular job of sticking my neck in the noose, all the odds are that I shan’t be.’
    ‘That’s fair enough. Trouble is though that you’re now in an age group in which every man jack has to have a regular job of some kind. No evading that—unless you want to end up in a police court. It really would be best for you to go into one of the Services. I’d have no trouble about hoiking you out then, when required.’
    ‘Most convenient for you, dear master. Just drop me apostcard whenever you next wish me to risk being castrated by Grauber and Co. In the meantime, I’ll be in the seventh heaven alternately swabbing dishes and lavatory seats.’
    ‘Insolent young devil,’ rumbled Sir Pellinore, brushing up his white moustache. ‘It won’t be as bad as all that, though. I’ll get you fixed up in some white-collar occupation. Pay Corps perhaps, or interviewing cooks for the Army Caterin’ Service.’
    ‘Either would drive me off my rocker within a month; and I’ve already told you that I flatly refuse to serve in the ranks.’
    ‘Very understandable in a man of your attainments. I’d feel the same myself. Glad I did my service while old Vickie was on the Throne. When I joined I took my own chargers, valet and groom, and they gave me a trumpeter to ride behind me. Now if the trumpeter has been in longer it’s you who have to ride behind him—even if he couldn’t get ten per cent marks in an average general knowledge paper. That’s democracy; but there’s