Back Room Girl: By the author of Paul Temple

‘I remember it,’ nodded Miss Silvers grimly. ‘Typical of the popular Press. It annoyed me very much indeed.’

‘Why should it? He was right – as far as the “prettiest” part goes, anyway. Not having any degrees myself and darned little knowledge of science, I wouldn’t know about the blue-stocking part of it. But what on earth are you doing here now in an old tin mine, of all places?’

‘Still working for the Government.’

‘I see; one of the back room girls, eh?’

‘I suppose you would call it that. It’s what I should expect from the newspapers, I suppose.’ She said it as if she didn’t think much of newspapers – or newspapermen.

‘Or perhaps you’d prefer to be called one of the old tin mine girls,’ suggested Roy banteringly.

‘That would hardly be accurate, though, of course, I shouldn’t expect a journalist to bother much about accuracy. I’m the only woman here.’

‘Overlooking the outrageous slight on my profession, or ex-profession, you are telling me, bit by bit, what I want to know, but you’re still far from being really co-operative. I understand now why our Mr Thomas was so disappointed in you, in one respect at least.’

‘And are you disappointed in me, Major Benton?’

‘It couldn’t be, could it, that you’re fishing for compliments? No,’ Roy went on hastily, seeing her indignant reaction to his question. ‘No, of course not. By the way, please don’t call me Major. The name is Roy – but you probably know that as well – and I’m not disappointed – yet. Unlike Mr Thomas, you see, I haven’t to get a story out of you, at least not for publication in the papers.’

‘You’d better not try,’ said Karen Silvers, ‘or you’d get into very serious trouble.’

‘As hush-hush as that, is it? Hence all the security – and my poor head. What are you researching for now – a super atomic bomb to blow the world to bits?’

Roy thought he saw her give a slight start, but she recovered quickly. ‘I’ve already told you,’ she said firmly, ‘that I can’t answer questions about my work.’

‘Nor why you do it in an abandoned Cornish tin mine?’

‘No.’

‘But surely I’m entitled to some sort of explanation and apology after the brutal way I’ve been treated when I was out for a perfectly innocent walk?’

‘Was it so innocent? You couldn’t by any chance have been plain nosey-parkering?’

‘Really, Miss Silvers,’ exclaimed Roy in mock indignation, ‘how could you suspect me of such a thing?’

‘You were a crime reporter, weren’t you?’

‘Does that mean you’re engaged in something criminal? I was a crime reporter, but I’m a reformed character now. I don’t seem to have been able to conceal any of my past from you, do I?’

‘I told you we made it our business to know. We couldn’t have anyone living so close as you were who might possibly, for all your war record, be an enemy agent—’ She broke off, realizing that she had said more than she intended.

Roy was quick to seize the point. ‘So that’s it,’ he said. ‘I wondered why it was necessary for the disembarkation to take place in the dead of night. What were your boy friends bringing ashore, anyway?’

‘That’s enough,’ retorted Miss Silvers determinedly. ‘You’ve pumped me too much already. I often wondered why people let themselves make such stupid statements in the papers. Now I know. You’d worm anything out of anyone, but you’ll get nothing more out of me. The sooner I hand you over to the Chief the better.’

‘Hand me over? I like that. You don’t really suppose you can keep me here, do you? Ever heard of habeas corpus? Why shouldn’t I get up and just walk out, I’d like to know?’

Roy got up and took two or three determined steps towards the door. At least, he had meant them to be determined, but he swayed and clutched at the table. Miss Silvers took his arm and led him firmly back to the camp bed, on which he gratefully sank down again.

‘That’s one reason why you won’t just get up and walk out. Secondly, you’d never get out without a guide. Thirdly, if by some miracle you did find your way to the exit, the guards wouldn’t let you out without a pass signed by the Chief. We all have to have them. Now, would a cup of tea and a bun preserve us from more of your questions?’

‘It’s an idea,’ agreed Roy thankfully. ‘Now you’re being human. I was wondering what I had to do to be offered some real hospitality.’

Miss Silvers ignored this and pressed a button on the table. In a moment or two a white-jacketed steward entered the cavern through the curtained door.

‘You rang, Miss Silvers?’ he said quietly.

‘Yes, Tom. Tea for two, please, and make it fairly strong. Our guest here is feeling a trifle faint.’

Tom glanced at Roy and a shadow of a smile passed over his weather-beaten features. ‘Very good, miss,’ he said, and went out as quietly as he had come in.

‘That’s what I call service,’ commented Roy. ‘Where did you get him? The Savoy?’

‘Not exactly. Tom was a steward in the Queen Mary before the war. Then he joined up. His first ship was the Rawalpindi. He was torpedoed three times after that, I think. The last time he suffered so much from exposure that he was invalided out. Now he’s here. All the servants and guards here are ex-Servicemen. And very reliable,’ she added significantly.

Tom entered silently once more and placed a tea-tray on the table. ‘I’ve brought some hot water,’ he said. ‘Do you think you’ll want anything more, Miss Silvers?’

‘Thank you, no. I’ll ring if we do. Oh, you might let me know as soon as the Chief gets back, will you?’

‘Certainly, miss,’ said Tom, and vanished.

‘Nice man, Tom,’ said Miss Silvers, as she poured out tea and passed a cup to Roy; ‘I don’t know what we’d do without him, expecially since Pat disappeared.’

‘Pat? Disappeared?’

‘Another steward. Went about a week ago without saying anything to anyone. We’re rather worried about him. That’s why the Chief’s been away today. We haven’t replaced him yet. It’s not easy to get people for a job like this. The conditions are so abnormal and they have to be very carefully vetted.’

‘Like me, I suppose,’ said Roy with a rueful grin. ‘But do you mean the other steward left without any explanation?’

‘Yes, one or two rather odd things have happened round here lately. That’s why we arrange special receptions for curious strangers.’ There was a smile about Miss Silvers’ lips as she said this.

‘So I’ve noticed.’ Roy sipped his tea thoughtfully. ‘This is an odd business altogether,’ he said reflectively. ‘A little while ago I was living what I fondly imagined was an idyllic life in a little cove far from the madding crowd. You ought to come and see my chalet, by the way, it knocks spots off this place. I set out for a perfectly innocent walk, get knocked out and dragged into a disused tin mine – at least I thought it was disused – and wake up to find myself being entertained to tea by a very charming hostess in the most unconventional setting you could imagine. You must agree it’s all very unusual. What puzzles me is where I go from here.’

‘That’s for the Chief to say, and here he is now.’

CHAPTER V (#ulink_534f0d3e-256a-517c-975a-2176281f0c13)

Chief Inspector Leyland Explains (#ulink_534f0d3e-256a-517c-975a-2176281f0c13)

Miss Silvers rose as a short, rather shabbily dressed, sandy-haired man came into the cavern. Roy uttered a startled exclamation as the man’s face came into the range of the electric light and he saw him clearly. He tried to get up from the bed, but lost his balance and sank back. ‘Well, I’m damned,’ he said. ‘If it isn’t old Wilfred!’

‘I gather there isn’t any need to introduce you,’ remarked Miss Silvers to the grinning little man.

‘There is not,’ said Roy as ‘old Wilfred’ came over to him and they shook hands.

‘And if it isn’t our Roy, in trouble as usual,’ said the newcomer in an unmistakable Yorkshire accent. ‘And how the heck did you find your way in here?’

‘I didn’t,’ retorted Roy indignantly. ‘I was knocked out and dragged in. Ask Miss Silvers. She knows all about it.’