Graham smiled grimly. “And the little homily on patriotism is to still any qualms I might have about accepting the inevitable. I see. Well, I’m sorry, but it doesn’t work. I still think you’re bluffing. You’ve bluffed very well. I admit that. You had me worried. I really thought for a moment that I had to choose between possible death and sinking my pride-just like the hero in a melodrama. My real choice was, of course, between using my common sense and letting my stomach do my thinking for me. Well, Mr. Moeller, if that’s all you have to say …”
Moeller got slowly to his feet. “Yes, Mr. Graham,” he said calmly, “that is all I have to say.” He seemed to hesitate. Then, very deliberately, he sat down again. “No, Mr. Graham, I have changed my mind. There is something else that I should say. It is just possible that on thinking this thing over calmly you may decide that you have been silly and that I may not be as clumsy as you now seem to think. Frankly, I don’t expect you to do so. You are pathetically sure of yourself. But in case your stomach should after all take control, I think I should issue a warning.”
“Against what?”
Moeller smiled. “One of the many things you don’t seem to know is that Colonel Haki considered it advisable to install one of his agents on board to watch over you. I tried hard to interest you in him yesterday, but was unsuccessful. Ihsan Kuvetli is unprepossessing, I agree; but he has the reputation of being a clever little man. If he had not been a patriot, he would have been rich.”
“Are you trying to tell me that Kuvetli is a Turkish agent?”
“I am indeed, Mr. Graham!” The pale blue eyes narrowed. “The reason why I approached you this evening instead of to-morrow evening is because I wanted to see you before he made himself known to you. He did not, I think, find out who I was until to-day. He searched my cabin this evening. I think that he must have heard me talking to Banat; the partitions between the cabins are absurdly thin. In any case, I thought it likely that, realizing the danger you were in, he would decide that the time had come to approach you. You see, Mr. Graham, with his experience, he is not likely to make the mistake that you are making. However, he has his duty to do and I have no doubt that he will have evolved some laborious plan for getting you to France in safety. What I want to warn you against is telling him of this suggestion I have made to you. You see, if you should after all come round to my way of thinking, it would be embarrassing for both of us if an agent of the Turkish Government knew of our little deception. We could scarcely expect him to keep silent. You see what I mean, Mr. Graham? If you let Kuvetli into the secret you will destroy the only chance of returning to England alive that remains to you.” He smiled faintly. “It’s a solemn thought, isn’t it?” He got up again and went to the door. “That was all I wanted to say. Good night, Mr. Graham.”
Graham watched the door close and then sat down on the bunk. The blood was beating through his head as if he had been running. The time for bluffing was over. He should be deciding what he was going to do. He had to think calmly and clearly.
But he could not think calmly and clearly. He was confused. He became conscious of the vibration and movement of the ship and wondered if he had imagined what had just happened. But there was the depression in the bunk where Moeller had been sitting and the cabin was filled with the smoke from his cigarette. It was Haller who was the creature of imagination.
He was conscious now more of humiliation than of fear. He had become almost used to the tight sensation in his chest, the quick hammering of his heart, the dragging at his stomach, the crawling of his spine which were his body’s responses to his predicament. In a queer, horrible way it had been stimulating. He had felt that he was pitting his wits against those of an enemy-a dangerous enemy but an intellectual inferior-with a chance of winning. Now he knew that he had been doing nothing of the kind. The enemy had been laughing up their sleeves at him. It had never even occurred to him to suspect “Haller.” He had just sat there politely listening to extracts from a book. Heavens, what a fool the man must think him! He and Banat between them had seen through him as if he were made of glass. Not even his wretched little passages with Josette had escaped their notice. Probably they had seen him kissing her. And as a final measure of their contempt for him, it had been Moeller who had informed him that Mr. Kuvetli was a Turkish agent charged with his protection. Kuvetli! It was funny. Josette would be amused.
He remembered suddenly that he had promised to return to the saloon. She would be getting anxious. And the cabin was stifling. He could think better if he had some air. He got up and put on his overcoat.