I let out a soundless sigh as he passed the opening and disappeared.
More sounds as he ran through the drawers of a bureau or chest.
Suddenly the hall door opened again, and another set of steps entered
the room. I heard my man freeze. Then he spoke, in guttural French.
"Oh, it's you, is it, Maurice."
There was a pause. Maurice's tone was insinuating.
"Yes, I thought I saw a light in the chief's study. I thought that was
a bit odd, what with him away tonight."
The first man sauntered back toward the center of the room. "I just
thought I'd have a look to see that everything was OK here."
Maurice tittered. "Don't try to rob a thief, Georges; I know why you
came here--for the same reason as I."
"What are you up to?" the first man hissed. "What do you want?"
"Sit down, Flic. Oh, don't get excited; they all call you that."
Maurice was enjoying himself. I listened carefully for half an hour
while he goaded and cajoled, and pressured the other. The first man,
I learned, was Georges Pinay, the chief of the dictator's security
force. The other man was a civilian military adviser to the Bureau of
Propaganda and Education. Pinay, it seemed, had been less clever than
he thought in planning a _coup_ that was to unseat Bayard. Maurice knew
all about it, and had bided his time; and now he was taking over. Pinay
didn't like it, but he accepted it after Maurice mentioned a few things
nobody was supposed to know about a hidden airplane and a deposit of
gold coins buried a few miles outside the city.
I listened carefully, without moving, and after a while even the itch
went away. Pinay had been looking for lists of names, he admitted; he
planned to enlist a few more supporters by showing them their names in
the dictator's own hand on the purge schedule. He hadn't planned to
mention that he himself had nominated them for the list.
I made the mistake of over-confidence; I was just waiting for them to
finish up when a sudden silence fell. I didn't know what I had done
wrong, but I knew at once what was coming. The steps were very quiet
and there was just a moment's pause before the door was flung open. I
hoped my make-up was on straight.
I stepped out, casting a cool glance at Pinay.
"Well, Georges," I said, "it's nice to know you keep yourself occupied
when I'm away." I used the same French dialect they had used, and my
wrist was against the little lever.
"The devil," Maurice burst out. He stared at me with wide eyes. For a
moment I thought I was going to get away with it. Then Pinay lunged at
me. I whirled, side-stepped; and the slug-gun slapped my palm.
"Hold it," I barked.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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