‘So I should imagine,’ said Colonel Lavery. ‘What’s your idea of it?’
‘Unless we’re being made the victims of a gigantic and rather pointless double bluff, the answer seems to me to be plain. Benucci and his immediate circle knew about the Hut C tunnel. When they quitted the camp in such a hurry they either forgot to tell – or didn’t bother to tell – anyone else.’
‘The latter, I should think,’ said Colonel Lavery. ‘It would suit their book much better if the opposition made fools of themselves.’
‘Well, I should imagine that Paoli – who was about twenty-five per cent in Benucci’s confidence – may have had an idea that the tunnel started from one of the hut kitchens – or he may have been deliberately misinformed, and told that it started from Hut A. Hence this afternoon’s demonstration.’
‘It’s possible,’ said Colonel Lavery. ‘How is the tunnel going?’
‘Much too well to want to lose it now. We’ve taken it straight on, without raising the level at all. That means that it is going to run out into the slope of the hill over the crest from the camp wall.’
‘How long will it be before you’re out?’
‘We could break any day. We’re going slowly and tidying it all up as we go. It’s a beautiful job.’
‘I hope you’re right about Paoli,’ said Colonel Lavery thoughtfully.
‘Tony,’ said Goyles, ‘will you cast your mind back to that evening you were in the cooler.’
‘The night Coutoules was killed?’
‘Yes. What I really want to establish is some definite timings.’
Long cocked an eyebrow at him.
‘The great detective?’
‘Yes,’ said Goyles. ‘The great detective at work. And I’ll tell you something about this detecting business which you may find it hard to believe. Once you pick it up you can’t put it down even if you want to.’
‘Like a dog with a piece of stinking rabbit,’ suggested Long helpfully.
‘Perfectly,’ said Goyles. ‘If you want the truth, I don’t believe anyone ever will be so as to prove it. A lot of people who know about it are scattered able to say exactly what happened to Coutoules that night – not already, and when the British land in Italy the rest of the cast will be dispersed too. All the same, I can’t stop. The fascination of guessing and filling in the gaps is too strong. It’s like trying to finish a crossword puzzle in a train going headlong towards a crash.’
‘All right,’ said Long. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘I want to establish the times,’ said Goyles – he sounded quite serious – ‘when the wireless set in the carabinieri quarters was playing jazz that evening.’
‘You mean when they had the set full on?’
‘Yes.’
‘It was rather odd, now you come to mention it,’ said Long. ‘It wasn’t just loud, it was
fortissimo
– almost as if someone had turned the control knob full on and forgotten about it. We heard it from time to time afterwards, but nothing like that evening.’
‘When did it start?’
‘Now you’re asking something,’ said Long. He reflected. ‘I was standing looking out of the window – I think it was about ten o’clock when the laundry van went out – I was noticing all the absurd precautions they took at the two gates. I stood there for quite a long time, waiting for it to get dark enough for me to start up on to the roof. I guess it was about eleven before I was able to get going. I should have said that the wireless came on at about half-time.’
‘That would be about half-past ten?’
‘Yes. I remember hoping that it would keep going long enough for me to get up on to the roof under cover of the row it was making.’
‘And it did?’
‘Yes – just. It was switched off or turned down about five minutes after I got up.’
‘Fine,’ said Goyles. He made a methodical note in his book.
‘Glad to be of assistance,’ said Long. ‘Don’t get carried away by it, though. Remember you’re due on P.T. in ten minutes time. After that, colloquial Italian till lunch.’
That afternoon Goyles sought an interview with Colonel Lavery and put a question to him which seemed to puzzle the S.B.O. considerably.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’d forgotten about it. But as a matter of fact it’s quite true. Coutoules came to see me that afternoon. In fact, it was the last time I spoke to him – and the last time but one that I saw him—’
‘The last time but one, sir?’
‘Yes. I saw him, of course, on roll-call that evening. Not being attached to any hut he was one of the last to have his name called. He walked off just ahead of me, towards our hut. As far as I know he was making for his room.’
‘That afternoon,’ said Goyles. ‘Can you remember anything – did anything strike you as out of the ordinary?’
‘The whole thing was extraordinary. He was easily the most unpopular person in the camp. I’d arranged for him to have a room by himself, partly to stop stories that he was spying on people, but chiefly because I didn’t want to see him lynched.’
‘And then he asked you to have him moved back?’
‘Asked,’ said Colonel Lavery, ‘is an understatement. He begged me to put him back. He practically went down on his knees.’
‘Did he say why?’
‘Nothing that I could really get hold of. You know he spoke English quite well, but he was liable to get a bit incomprehensible when he was excited. He repeated two or three times that he didn’t want the room and he was sure there were many people who deserved it more than he did – which was true enough in a way. Right at the end, when he saw that I wasn’t going to change my mind, he did say something which I thought rather odd—’
‘Yes?’ said Goyles.
‘He shrugged his shoulders, in a sort of resigned way, and said, “To think that I had only myself to blame for coming here.” I said, “I suppose we might all of us say that.” He said, “Ah, but I’m the only one of you who actually prayed for my move.” Then he went out.’
‘Are you sure he said “prayed”?’ said Goyles.
‘It was either “prayed” or “paid”,’ said Colonel Lavery. ‘It didn’t seem to make a lot of sense either way.’
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 6TH, AT 8.30 IN THE EVENING
Positively the first performance in Campo 127
(And probably the last)
THE BARRETTS OF WIMPOLE STREET
(A Comedy in Five Acts, by Rudolf Besier)
with the following Distinguished Cast:
As Elizabeth Moulton-Barrett – Your favourite star - Captain the Honourable Peter Perse
As Robert Browning Lieutenant - Rupert Rolf-Callender
As Edward Moulton-Barrett, that accomplished character actor (remember
The Man Who Came, to Dinner
!) - Captain Angus Abercrowther
And full supporting cast
‘Roll up in your thousands’
There was no need for the last exhortation. The theatre hut had a maximum seating capacity of two hundred and tickets were strictly rationed. A seat in the front row was reserved for the Camp Commandant. (He liked to attend all such functions; though in view of the nature of some of the jokes in the previous Christmas pantomime it was perhaps fortunate that his knowledge of colloquial English was limited.)
The Old Hirburnian Rugby Football Club occupied a block at the back of the hall, and, in the interval before the curtain went up, seemed to be continuing an argument from some earlier occasion.
‘Anyone with an elementary knowledge of tactics,’ said Tag Burchnall, ‘would see at once that no general would land his forces at the toe of Italy when he could just as easily land them half-way up.’
‘It isn’t only a question of landing them,’ said Gerry Parsons. ‘You must remember that you’ve got to supply them, too. From a logistical point of view the further south the better.’
‘All you’ve got to do is land a force half-way up the peninsula, on both sides, and you’ll cut off half the German Army.’
‘Then why not land at the top of the peninsula and cut it all off?’ said Rollo Betts-Hanger.
‘Logistics—’
‘The obvious place to land a large force is Ancona. There’s practically no tide in the Adriatic—’
‘Lines of supply.’
‘On the other hand, if they establish their forward base in Northern Corsica and land between Livorno and La Spezia, that gives them a straight run to the Po Valley at Modena— ’
‘Certainly no further north than Naples.’
‘Here comes old Aletti,’ said Burchnall. ‘I suppose it would be a civil gesture if we all stood up.’
‘Why the devil didn’t someone think of it before?’ said Rolf-Callender.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘It’s the window at the back – you know Mr Barrett has to throw it open just before the final curtain. Now it seems it can’t be opened.’
‘What’s wrong with it?’
‘When we put the set in we put it too far back. It jams on that side beam.’
‘Has anyone got a saw?’
‘What are you going to do? For God’s sake don’t bring the whole thing down.’
‘It’s all right,’ said Captain Abercrowther, who had removed his morning coat and rolled up his sleeves. ‘I’ll just take a bit out of the end of that cross beam, knock it along a trifle, and then the window will open fine.’
He was far too old a hand at amateur theatricals to let a contretemps of that sort worry him. In his experience it would only have been surprising if nothing had stuck at the last moment.
‘Astounding,’ said Colonel Aletti, as the curtain fell for the first interval, ‘such acting, such décor. And that young lady on the ottoman, is she in reality one of your officers?’
‘Indeed, yes,’ said Colonel Lavery. ‘I’m glad you are enjoying it.’
‘It seems unbelievable,’ said the Commandant. ‘The voice – the gestures – so anatomically correct. Will there be rapine?’
Colonel Lavery cast his mind over the plot. ‘So far as I can remember,’ he said, ‘the ardours in this play are more poetical than physical.’
‘Incredible,’ said Colonel Aletti. ‘Incredible. And the enthusiasm when the name of Italy is mentioned!’
‘Incredible,’ agreed Colonel Lavery.
‘Damned good,’ said Goyles, as the curtain came down for the second interval.
‘It really is extraordinary,’ said Byfold, ‘what a complete twerp a chap can be off the stage and how damned entertaining when he’s on it.’
‘I can’t take my eyes off that dog,’ said Long. ‘Every time he wags his tail I’m sure it’s going to fall off. And it beats me how they keep him from licking off his make-up. Are we going out for a quick breather?’
Though all the windows were open the packed hut was as hot as an oven.
‘We’d better stick it out,’ said Goyles. ‘We’ll never get in again if we move.’
The play had come to its tremendous last minute. The lovers had stolen away. The empty room at Wimpole Street had filled with members of the Barrett family. Last of all had come Edward Moulton-Barrett – papa in person.
Captain Abercrowther, who really was an actor of considerable parts, had his hand by now on the pulse of the audience. For those few minutes belief was suspended, and the hatred, fear and pity of two hundred souls was following him as he walked to the window at the back.
In a moment the curtain would fall, illusion would depart and the present would rush back.
As he laid his hand on the casement window he sensed that it was going to prove difficult to open. He thought for a moment of abandoning the gesture. It would be almost as effective if he simply stood with his back to the audience, staring out of the closed window. Then he took a grip of himself, seized the bottom of the window, and threw it up. It resisted; then, when he applied his strength to it, it came with a rush.
At this moment, unperceived by anyone in the theatre but himself, the amazing thing happened.
As the window came up, a small square of boards at the very back of the stage, behind the back-cloth hinged downwards. A beam from the overhead spotlight shone straight through this cavity and lit up the shaft beneath it. It lit up also what lay at the foot of the shaft, and with incredulous eyes Captain Abercrowther picked out the word IMPAIR in red on a green background.
He realised that he was looking directly down at a roulette board.
Behind him the curtain fell to a solid roar of applause.
‘If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes,’ said Colonel Baird, ‘I should never have believed it.’
It was nine o’clock on the following morning and the Escape Committee, with Goyles and Abercrowther in attendance, were examining, behind carefully locked and guarded doors, the stage in the Theatre Hut.
‘It was some finale,’ agreed Colonel Shore. ‘I thought you seemed a little anxious to head-off the Commandant – otherwise I didn’t spot anything particularly wrong.’
He referred to a difficult moment on the previous evening when Colonel Aletti, who had evidently planned to congratulate Elizabeth Browning personally, had been kept with some difficulty from the stage.
‘How does it work?’ said Colonel Baird.
‘What actually happened, I think,’ said Captain Abercrowther, ‘was that, when we were originally fixing in part of the set, we put it too close to the framework at the back of the stage and the window wouldn’t open. At the last moment I had to shorten and lower one of the side stays. I was cutting the end off with a saw about five minutes before the curtain went up. You may have heard me. Even then we couldn’t lower the window until I’d knocked this bit of bottom studding along about six inches’ – he demonstrated. ‘You see what happens. It looks like studding, but it’s really the bolt which keeps this little trap-door shut.’
‘Then from the moment you did that there was nothing keeping it up at all?’
‘No, except that it was a tight fit. The jerk I gave to the window was the only thing which finally loosened it. It just fell open.’
‘Yes,’ said Colonel Baird. He was standing on the stage, straddling the trap-door, staring down into the shaft. What had looked, in the dark and from below, like a partial collapse of the tunnel roof, was now only too obviously man-made. The trap-door was skilful enough, but apart from that there had been no attempt at concealment. The excavated sand lay in heaps under the back of the stage.