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"I don't know how long it was before I came back to consciousness. I felt very ill

and sick. I was lying on a dirty bed. There was a screen round it, but I could hear

two people talking in the room. Mrs. Vandemeyer was one of them. I tried to

listen, but at first I couldn't take much in. When at last I did begin to grasp what

was going on--I was just terrified! I wonder I didn't scream right out there and

then.

They hadn't found the papers. They'd got the oilskin packet with the blanks, and

they were just mad! They didn't know whether I'd changed the papers, or whether

Danvers had been carrying a dummy message, while the real one was sent

another way. They spoke of"--she closed her eyes--"torturing me to find out!

I'd never known what fear--really sickening fear--was before! Once they came to

look at me. I shut my eyes and pretended to be still unconscious, but I was afraid

they'd hear the beating of my heart. However, they went away again. I began

thinking madly. What could I do? I knew I wouldn't be able to stand up against

torture very long.

"Suddenly something put the thought of loss of memory into my head. The

subject had always interested me, and I'd read an awful lot about it. I had the

whole thing at my finger-tips. If only I could succeed in carrying the bluff

through, it might save me. I said a prayer, and drew a long breath. Then I opened

my eyes and started babbling in FRENCH!

Mrs. Vandemeyer came round the screen at once. Her face was so wicked I

nearly died, but I smiled up at her doubtfully, and asked her in French where I

was.

"It puzzled her, I could see. She called the man she had been talking to. He stood

by the screen with his face in shadow. He spoke to me in French. His voice was

very ordinary and quiet, but somehow, I don't know why, he scared me worse

than the woman. I felt he'd seen right through me, but I went on playing my part.

I asked again where I was, and then went on that there was something I MUST

remember--MUST remember--only for the moment it was all gone. I worked

myself up to be more and more distressed. He asked me my name. I said I didn't

know--that I couldn't remember anything at all.

"Suddenly he caught my wrist, and began twisting it. The pain was awful. I

screamed. He went on. I screamed and screamed, but I managed to shriek out

things in French. I don't know how long I could have gone on, but luckily I

fainted. The last thing I heard was his voice saying: 'That's not bluff! Anyway, a

kid of her age wouldn't know enough.' I guess he forgot American girls are older

232

The Secret Adversary