It's as much as I can do to remember
it myself."
"It's a Spy's business to know everything, father."
He gave me a peircing glance.
"He's a Spy, is he?" he then said. "Well, I might have
known that all this war preparation of yours would lead to
Spies. It has turned more substantile intellects than yours."
He then swiched on the hall lights from the top of the
stairs and desended. I could but wait at the top, fearing at
each moment a shot would ring out, as a Spy's business is such
as not to stop at Murder.
My father unlocked the safe and looked in it. Then he
closed it again and disapeared into the back of the house. How
agonising were the moments that ensued! He did not return, and
at last, feeling that he had met a terrable Death, I went down.
I went through the fatal dining room to the pantrey and
there found him not only alive, but putting on a plate some cold
roast beef and two apples.
"I thought we'd have a bite to eat," he said. "I need a
little nourishment before getting back into that puddle to
sleep."
"Father!" I said. "How can you talk of food when knowing---
-"
"Get some salt and pepper," he said, "and see if there is
any mustard mixed.
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