Mr. Kuvetli opened the door.
He was wearing an old red wool dressing gown over a flannel night-shirt and his fringe of grey hair stood out from the sides of his head in ringlets. He had a book in his hand and looked as if he had been lying in his bunk reading. He stared at Graham blankly for a moment, then his smile returned.
“Mr. Graham! Is very good to see you. What can I do, please?”
At the sight of him, Graham’s heart sank. It was to this grubby little man with a stupid smile that he was proposing to commit his safety. But it was too late to turn back now. He said: “I wonder if I could have a talk with you, Mr. Kuvetli.”
Mr. Kuvetli blinked a little shiftily. “Talk? Oh, yes. Come in, please.”
Graham stepped into the cabin. It was as small as his own and very stuffy.
Mr. Kuvetli smoothed out the blankets on his bunk. “Please take seat.”
Graham sat down and opened his mouth to speak, but Mr. Kuvetli forestalled him.
“Cigarette, please, Mr. Graham?”
“Thank you.” He took a cigarette. “I had a visit from Herr Professor Haller earlier this evening,” he added; and then, remembering that the bulkheads were thin, glanced at them.
Mr. Kuvetli struck a match and held it out. “Herr Professor Haller is very interesting man, eh?” He lit Graham’s cigarette and his own and blew the match out. “Cabins on both sides empty,” he remarked.
“Then …”
“Please,” interrupted Mr. Kuvetli, “will you allow me to speak French? My English is not very good, eh? Your French is very good. We understand better each.”
“By all means.”
“Now, then, we can talk easily.” Mr. Kuvetli sat down beside him on the bunk. “Monsieur Graham, I was going to introduce myself to you to-morrow. Now, Monsieur Moeller has saved me the trouble, I think. You know that I am not a tobacco merchant, eh?”
“According to Moeller you are a Turkish agent acting under Colonel Haki’s orders. Is that so?”
“Yes, that is so. I will be truthful. I am surprised that you have not discovered me before this. When the Frenchman asked me what firm I belonged to I had to say Pazar and Co., because I had given that name to you. Unfortunately, the firm of Pazar and Co. does not exist. Naturally he was puzzled. I was able to prevent him from asking more questions then, but I expected him to discuss it with you later.” The smile had gone and with it the bright-eyed stupidity which, for Graham, had been the tobacco merchant. In its place was a firm determined mouth, and a pair of steady brown eyes which surveyed him with something very like good-humoured contempt. “He did not discuss it.”
“And you did not suspect that I was avoiding his questions?” He shrugged. “One always takes unnecessary precautions. People are so much more trusting than one supposes.”
“Why should I suspect?” Graham demanded irritably. “What I cannot understand is why you did not approach me as soon as you knew that Banat was on the ship. I suppose,” he added spitefully, “that you do know that Banat is on the ship?”
“Yes, I know,” said Mr. Kuvetli airily. “I did not approach you for three reasons.” He held up podgy fingers. “Colonel Haki instructed me in the first place that your attitude to his efforts to protect you were unsympathetic and that unless it became necessary I would do better to remain unknown to you. Secondly, Colonel Haki has a low opinion of your ability to conceal your feelings and considered that if I wished to keep my true identity secret I had better not tell you of it.”
Graham was scarlet. “And what about the third reason?”
“Thirdly,” continued Mr. Kuvetli serenely, “I wished to see what Banat and Moeller would do. You tell me that Moeller has talked to you. Excellent. I would like to hear what he had to say.”
Graham was angry now. “Before I waste my time doing that,” he said coldly, “supposing you show me your credentials. So far I have only Moeller’s word and your own that you are a Turkish agent. I’ve already made some silly mistakes on this trip. I don’t intend to make any more.”
To his surprise, Mr. Kuvetli grinned. “I am pleased to see that you are in such excellent spirits, Monsieur Graham. I was getting a little worried about you this evening. In this sort of situation, whisky does more harm to the nerves than good. Excuse me, please.” He turned to his jacket hanging on the hook behind the door and produced from the pocket of it a letter which he handed to Graham. “That was given to me by Colonel Haki to give to you. I think you will find it satisfactory.”
Graham looked at it. It was an ordinary letter of introduction written in French on notepaper embossed with the title and address of the Turkish Ministry of the Interior. It was addressed to him personally and signed “Zia Haki.” He put it in his pocket. “Yes, Monsieur Kuvetli, it is quite satisfactory. I must apologise for doubting your word.”
“It was correct of you to do so,” said Mr. Kuvetli primly. “And now, Monsieur, tell me about Moeller. I am afraid Banat’s appearance on the ship must have been a shock to you. I felt guilty about keeping you ashore in Athens. But it was for the best. As to Moeller …”
Graham looked at him quickly. “Wait a minute! Do you mean to say that you knew Banat was coming aboard? Do you mean that you hung about in Athens asking all those fool questions solely in order to prevent my finding out before we sailed that Banat was on board?”
Mr. Kuvetli looked sheepish. “It was necessary. You must see …”
“Of all the damned …!” began Graham violently.
“One moment, please,” said Mr. Kuvetli sharply. “I have said that it was necessary. At Çanakkale I received a telegram from Colonel Haki saying that Banat had left Turkey, that it was possible that he might try to join the ship at the Piræus and …”
“You knew that! And yet …”
“Please, Monsieur! I will continue. Colonel Haki added that I was to keep you here on the ship. That was intelligent. On the ship nothing could happen to you. Banat might have been going to the Piræus for the purpose of frightening you on to the land, where very unpleasant things could happen to you. Wait, please! I went to Athens with you partly to see that you were not attacked while you were ashore and partly so that if Banat did join the ship, you would not see him until we had sailed.”
“But why, in the name of goodness, didn’t Colonel Haki arrest Banat or at least delay him until it was too late for him to reach the ship?”
“Because Banat would certainly have been replaced. We know all about Banat. A strange Monsieur Mavrodopoulos would have been a new problem.”
“But you say that Banat’s, or, rather, Moeller’s idea might have been to scare me off the boat. Banat could not know that I knew him?”
“You told Colonel Haki that Banat was pointed out to you in Le Jockey Cabaret. Banat was watching you then. He would probably know that you had noticed him. He is not an amateur. You see Colonel Haki’s point of view? If they were hoping to drive you on to the land and kill you there, it would be better for them to attempt to do so and fail than for the attempt to be frustrated in time for them to make other arrangements. As it happens, however,” he went on cheerfully, “their intention was not to drive you on to the land and my precautions were wasted. Banat did join the ship, but he stayed in his cabin until the pilot had been taken off.”
“Precisely!” snarled Graham. “I could have gone ashore, taken a train and been safe in Paris by now.”
Mr. Kuvetli considered the criticism for a moment and then slowly shook his head. “I do not think so. You have forgotten Monsieur Moeller. I do not think that he and Banat would have stayed on the boat very long if you had not returned by sailing time.”
Graham laughed shortly. “Did you know that then?”
Mr. Kuvetli contemplated dirty fingernails. “I will be very honest, Monsieur Graham. I did not know it. I knew of Monsieur Moeller, of course. I was, through an intermediary, once offered a large sum of money to work for him. I had seen a photograph of him. But photographs are mostly useless. I did not recognise him. The fact that he came aboard at Istanbul prevented my suspecting him. Banat’s behaviour made me think that I had overlooked something, and when I saw him talking to the Herr Professor I made some inquiries.”
“He says that you searched his cabin.”
“I did. I found letters addressed to him in Sofia.”
“There has,” said Graham bitterly, “been quite a lot of cabin searching. Last night Banat stole my revolver from my suitcase. This evening I went to his cabin and tried to find his gun, the gun he used on me in Istanbul. It was not there. When I returned to my cabin, Moeller was there with Banat’s gun.”
Mr. Kuvetli had been listening gloomily. “If,” he now said, “you will please tell me what Moeller had to say we shall both get to sleep much sooner.”
Graham smiled. “You know, Kuvetli, I have had several surprises on this ship. You are the first pleasant one.” And then the smile faded. “Moeller came to tell me that unless I agree to delay my return to England for six weeks I shall be murdered within five minutes of my landing in Genoa. He says that apart from Banat, he has other men waiting in Genoa to do the killing.”
Mr. Kuvetli did not seem surprised. “And where does he suggest that you should spend the six weeks?”
“In a villa near Santa Margherita. The idea is that I should be certified by a doctor as suffering from typhus and that I should stay in this villa as if it were a clinic. Moeller and Banat would be the medical staff if anyone should come out from England to see me. He proposes, you see, to involve me in the deception so that I cannot tell tales afterwards.”
Mr. Kuvetli raised his eyebrows. “And how was I concerned?”
Graham told him.
“And, believing Monsieur Moeller, you decided to ignore his advice and tell me about his suggestion?” Mr. Kuvetli beamed approvingly. “That was very courageous of you, Monsieur.”
Graham reddened. “Do you think that I might have agreed?”
Mr. Kuvetli misunderstood. “I think nothing,” he said hastily. “But”-he hesitated-“when a person’s life is in danger he is not always quite normal. He may do things which he would not do in the ordinary way. He cannot be blamed.”
Graham smiled. “I will be frank with you. I came to you now instead of in the morning so that there could be no chance of my thinking things over and deciding to take his advice after all.”
“What is important is,” said Mr. Kuvetli quietly, “that you have in fact come to me. Did you tell him that you were going to do so?”
“No. I told him that I thought he was bluffing.”
“And do you think that he was?”
“I don’t know.”
Mr. Kuvetli scratched his armpits thoughtfully. “There are so many things to be considered. And it depends on what you mean by saying that he is bluffing. If you mean that he could not or would not kill you, I think you are wrong. He could and would.”
“But how? I have a Consul. What is to prevent my getting into a taxi at the dock and going straight to the Consulate? I could arrange for some sort of protection there.”
Mr. Kuvetli lit another cigarette. “Do you know where the British Consulate-General in Genoa is?”
“The taxi-driver would know.”
“I can tell you myself. It is at the corner of the Via Ippolito d’Aste. This ship docks at the Ponte San Giorgio in the Vittorio Emanuele basin, several kilometres away from your Consulate. I have travelled this way before and so I know what I am saying. Genoa is a great port. I doubt, Monsieur Graham, whether you would complete one of those kilometres. They will be waiting for you with a car. When you took the taxi they would follow you as far as the Via Francia, then force the taxi on to the pavement and shoot you as you sit there.”
“I could telephone to the Consul from the dock.”
“Certainly you could. But you would have to go through the Customs shed first. You would then have to wait for the Consul to arrive. Wait, Monsieur! Do you understand what that means? Let us suppose that you were to reach the Consul by telephone immediately and convince him that your case was urgent. You would still have to wait at least half an hour for him. Let me tell you that your chances of surviving that half-hour would not be lessened if you spent it drinking prussic acid. To kill an unarmed, unguarded man is never difficult. Among the sheds on the quay it would be simplicity itself. No, I do not think Moeller is bluffing when he says that he can kill you.”
“But what about this proposal? He seemed very eager to persuade me to agree.”
Mr. Kuvetli fingered the back of his head. “There could be several explanations of that. For instance, it is possible that his intention is to kill you in any case and that he wishes to do so with as little trouble as possible. One cannot deny that it would be easier to kill you on the road to Santa Margherita than on the waterfront at Genoa.”
“That’s a pleasing idea.”
“I am inclined to think that it is the correct one.” Mr. Kuvetli frowned. “You see, this proposal of his looks very simple-you are taken ill, there is a forged medical certificate, you get better, you go home. Voilà! It is done. But think now of the actuality. You are an Englishman in a hurry to get to England. You land in Genoa. What would you do normally? Take the train for Paris, without a doubt. But what is it necessary to do now? You must, for some mysterious reason, remain in Genoa long enough to discover that you have typhus. Also you must not do what anyone else would do in those circumstances-you must not go to a hospital. You must instead go to a private clinic near Santa Margherita. Is it possible that it would not be thought in England that your behaviour was curious? I think not. Furthermore, typhus is a disease which must be notified to the authorities. That could not be done in this case because there would be no typhus and the medical authorities would soon discover the fact. And supposing your friends discover that your case has not been notified. They might. You are of some importance. The British Consul might be asked to investigate. And then what? No, I cannot see Monsieur Moeller taking such absurd risks. Why should he? It would be easier to kill you.”
“He says that he does not like having people killed if he can help it.”
Mr. Kuvetli giggled. “He must think you very stupid indeed. Did he tell you what he would do about my presence here?”
“No.”
“I am not surprised. For that plan to succeed as he explained it to you, there would be only one thing he could do-kill me. And even when he had killed me I should still embarrass him. Colonel Haki would see to that. I am afraid that Monsieur’s proposal is not very honest.”
“It sounded convincing. I may say that he was prepared to allow Señora Gallindo to make up the party if I liked to take her along.”
Mr. Kuvetli leered: a scurfy faun in a flannel night-shirt. “And did you tell Señora Gallindo that?”
Graham flushed. “She knows nothing of Moeller. I told her about Banat. I’m afraid I gave myself away last night when Banat came into the saloon. She asked me what was wrong and I told her. Anyway,” he added defensively but none too truthfully, “I needed her help. It was she who arranged to keep Banat occupied while I searched his cabin.”
“By arranging for the good José to play cards with him? Quite so. As to the suggestion that she should accompany you, I think that, if you had accepted it, it would have been withdrawn. It would, no doubt, be explained that difficulties had arisen. Does José know of this business?”
“No. I don’t think that she would tell him. She’s trustworthy, I think,” he added with as much nonchalance as he could muster.
“No woman is trustworthy,” gloated Mr. Kuvetli. “But I do not begrudge you your amusements, Monsieur Graham.” He moistened his upper lip with the tip of his tongue and grinned. “Señora Gallindo is very attractive.”
Graham checked the retort that rose to his lips. “Very,” he said tersely. “Meanwhile we have reached the conclusion that I shall be killed if I accept Moeller’s proposal and killed if I don’t.” And then he lost control of himself. “For God’s sake, Kuvetli,” he burst out in English, “do you think it’s pleasant for me to sit here listening to you telling me how easy it would be for these lice to kill me! What am I going to do?”
Mr. Kuvetli patted his knee consolingly. “My dear friend, I understand perfectly. I was merely showing you that it would be impossible for you to land in the ordinary way.”
“But what other way can I land? I’m not invisible.”
“I will tell you,” said Mr. Kuvetli complacently. “It is very simple. You see, although this ship does not actually reach the quayside for the landing of passengers until nine o’clock on Saturday morning, she arrives off Genoa in the early hours, at about four o’clock. Night pilotage is expensive; accordingly, although she takes on a pilot as soon as it begins to get light, she does not move in until sunrise. The pilot boat …”
“If you’re suggesting that I leave by the pilot boat, it’s impossible.”
“For you, yes. For me, no. I am privileged. I have a diplomatic laisser passer.” He patted his jacket pocket. “By eight o’clock I can be at the Turkish Consulate. Arrangements can then be made for getting you away safely and taking you to the airport. The international train service is not as good as it used to be, and the Paris train does not leave until two o’clock in the afternoon. It is better that you do not remain so long in Genoa. We will charter a plane to take you to Paris immediately.”
Graham’s heart began to beat faster. An extraordinary feeling of lightness and ease came over him. He wanted to laugh. He said stolidly: “It sounds all right.”
“It will be all right, but precautions must be taken to see that it is so. If Monsieur Moeller suspects that there is a chance of your escaping, something unpleasant will happen. Listen carefully, please.” He scratched his chest and then held up a forefinger. “First; you must go to Monsieur Moeller to-morrow and tell him that you agree to his suggestion that you should stay in Santa Margherita.”
“What!”
“It is the best way to keep him quiet. I leave you to choose your own opportunity. But I will suggest the following: it is possible that he will approach you again, and so perhaps it will be best if you give him time to do so. Wait until late in the evening. If he has not approached you by then, go to him. Do not appear to be too ingenuous, but agree to do what he wants. When you have done that, go to your cabin, lock the door, and remain there. Do not leave your cabin under any circumstances until eight o’clock the following morning. It might be dangerous.
“Now comes the important part of your instructions. At eight o’clock in the morning you must be ready with your baggage. Call the steward, tip him, and tell him to put your baggage in the Customs shed. There must be no mistake at this point. What you have to do is to remain on the ship until I come to tell you that the preparations have been made and that it is safe for you to land. There are difficulties. If you remain in your cabin the steward will make you go ashore with the rest, including Monsieur Moeller and Banat. If you go on deck, the same thing will happen. You must see that you are not forced to go ashore before it is safe for you to do so.”
“But how?”
“I am explaining that. What you must do is to leave your cabin and then, taking care that nobody sees you, to go into the nearest unoccupied cabin. You have cabin number five. Go into cabin number four. That is the next cabin to this. Wait there. You will be quite safe. You will have tipped the steward. If he thinks of you again at all it will be to assume that you have gone ashore. If he is asked about you he will certainly not look in unoccupied cabins. Monsieur Moeller and Banat will naturally be looking for you. You will have agreed to go with them. But they will have to go ashore to wait. By that time we shall be there and able to act.”
“Act?”
Mr. Kuvetli smiled grimly. “We shall have two men for every one of theirs. I do not think that they will try to stop us. Are you quite clear about what you have to do?”
“Quite clear.”
“There is a small matter. Monsieur Moeller will ask you if I have made myself known to you. You will, of course, say yes. He will ask you what I said. You will tell him that I offered to escort you to Paris myself and that when you insisted on going to the British Consul, I threatened you.”
“Threatened me!”
“Yes.” Mr. Kuvetli was still smiling, but his eyes had narrowed a little. “If your attitude towards me had been different it might have been necessary for me to threaten you.”
“What with?” Graham demanded spitefully. “Death? That would have been absurd, wouldn’t it?”
Mr. Kuvetli smiled steadily. “No, Monsieur Graham, not death but with the accusation that you had accepted bribes from an enemy agent to sabotage Turkish naval preparations. You see, Monsieur Graham, it is just as important for me that you return to England without delay as it is for Monsieur Moeller that you should not return.”
Graham stared at him. “I see. And this is a gentle reminder that the threat still stands if I should allow myself to be persuaded that Moeller’s proposal is, after all, acceptable. Is that it?”
His tone was deliberately offensive. Mr. Kuvetli drew himself up. “I am a Turk, Monsieur Graham,” he said with dignity, “and I love my country. I fought with the Gazi for Turkey’s freedom. Can you imagine that I would let one man endanger the great work we have done? I am ready to give my life for Turkey. Is it strange that I should not hesitate to do less unpleasant things?”
He had struck an attitude. He was ridiculous and yet, for the very reason that his words were at so odd a variance with his appearance, impressive. Graham was disarmed. He grinned. “Not at all strange. You need have no fears. I shall do exactly what you have told me to do. But supposing he wants to know when our meeting took place?”
“You will tell the truth. It is just possible that you were seen to come to my cabin. You can say that I asked you to do so, that I left a note in your cabin. Remember, too, that we must not be seen in private conversation after this. It will be better if we do not have any sort of conversation. In any case there is nothing more to be said. Everything is arranged. There is only one other matter to be considered-Señora Gallindo.”
“What about her?”
“She has part of your confidence. What is her attitude?”
“She thinks that everything is all right now.” He reddened. “I said that I would travel with her to Paris.”
“And after?”
“She believes that I shall spend some time with her there.”
“You did not, of course, intend to do so.” He had the air of a schoolmaster dealing with a difficult pupil.
Graham hesitated. “No, I suppose I didn’t,” he said slowly. “To tell you the truth, it has been pleasant to talk of going to Paris. When you’re expecting to be killed …”
“But now that you are not expecting to be killed it is different, eh?”
“Yes, it’s different.” Yet was it so different? He was not quite sure.
Mr. Kuvetli stroked his chin. “On the other hand it would be dangerous to tell her that you have changed your mind,” he reflected. “She might be indiscreet-or angry, perhaps. Say nothing to her. If she discusses Paris, everything is as it was before. You can explain that you have business to do in Genoa after the ship docks and say that you will meet her on the train. That will prevent her looking for you before she goes ashore. It is understood?”
“Yes. It is understood.”
“She is pretty,” Mr. Kuvetli went on thoughtfully. “It is a pity that your business is so urgent. However, perhaps you could return to Paris when you have finished your work.” He smiled: the schoolmaster promising a sweet for good behaviour.
“I suppose I could. Is there anything else?”
Mr. Kuvetli looked up at him slyly. “No. That is all. Except that I must ask you to continue to look as distrait as you have been looking since we left the Piræus. It would be a pity if Monsieur Moeller should suspect anything from your manner.”
“My manner? Oh, yes, I see.” He stood up and was surprised to find that his knees felt quite weak. He said: “I’ve often wondered what a condemned man feels like when they tell him that he has been reprieved. Now I know.”
Mr. Kuvetli smiled patronisingly. “You feel very well, eh?”
Graham shook his head. “No, Mr. Kuvetli, I don’t feel very well. I feel very sick and very tired and I can’t stop thinking that there must be a mistake.”
“A mistake! There is no mistake. You need not worry. All will be well. Go to bed now, my friend, and in the morning you will feel better. A mistake!”
Mr. Kuvetli laughed.