Knight Without Armour

“Let me explain. But first, I must pledge you to the strictest secrecy. Whether or not you and I can come to terms, you must give me that assurance.”

“I do, of course.”

“Good. Then listen.”

Briefly, Stanfield’s suggestion was that A.J. should become attached to the British Secret Service. That sounded simple enough, but an examination of all that it implied revealed a network of complication and detail. Stanfield, relying on A.J.’s promise of secrecy, was as frank as he needed to be, but no more so. British diplomacy, he explained, had its own reasons for wishing to know the precise strength and significance of the revolutionary movement in Russia. It was impossible to obtain reliable information from official channels, whether British or Russian; the only sources were devious and underground. “Supposing, for instance, you decided to help us, you would have to join one of the revolutionary societies, identify yourself with the cause, gain the confidence of its leaders, and judge for yourself how much the whole thing counts. I think you’ll agree with me that such a job calls for brains and might well involve considerable personal risks.”

“I should be a spy, in fact?”

“In a way, yes, but you would not be betraying anybody. You would merely make your confidential reports to our headquarters—you would not be working either for or against the revolutionaries themselves. We take no sides, of course—we merely want to know what is really happening.”

“I see. And the danger would be that the revolutionaries would find me out and think I was betraying them to the Russian police?”

“The danger, my friend, would be twofold, and I’m not going to try to minimise it in the least. There would be, of course, the danger you mention, but there would be the even greater danger that the Russian police would take you for a genuine revolutionary and deal with you accordingly. And you know what ‘accordingly’ means.”

“But in that case I suppose I should have to tell them the real truth?”

“Not at all—that is just what you would not have to do. You would have to keep up your pretence and accept whatever punishment they gave you. If you did tell them the truth, the British authorities would merely arch their eyebrows with great loftiness and disown you. I want you to be quite clear about that. We should, in the beginning, provide you with passport and papers proving you to be a Russian subject, and after that, if anything ever went wrong, you would have to become that Russian subject—completely. Do you see? We could not risk trouble with the Russian Government by having anything to do with you.”

“It seems rather a one-sided arrangement.”

“It is, as I can say from experience, having worked under it for the best part of my life. On the other hand, it has certain advantages which probably appeal to people like you and me rather more than to most others. It is interesting, adventurous, and quite well paid. It is also emphatically a job for the Cat that Walks by Itself—you remember Kipling’s story?—and I should imagine both of us are that type of animal.”

“Maybe.”

“Mind you, I don’t want to persuade you at all—and I do want you to have time to think the whole thing over very carefully before coming to a decision. Unless, of course, you feel that you may as well say ‘No’ straight away?”

A.J. shook his head. “I’ll think it over, as you suggest.”

“Then we’d better meet again to-morrow.” He gave A.J. an address, and the arrangement was made. A.J. did not sleep well that night. When he tried to look at the future quite coolly, when he asked himself whether his ambition really was to be a Secret Service spy in a Russian revolutionary club, the answer was neither yes nor no, but a mere gasp of incredulity. It was almost impossible to realise that such an extraordinary doorway had suddenly opened into his life. It was not impossible, however, to grasp the fact that if he did not accept Stanfield’s offer he would have to leave Russia in two days’ time, with very poor and uncertain prospects.

He called in the morning at the address Stanfield had given him—a well-furnished apartment in one of the better-class districts. Stanfield was there, together with another man, introduced as Forrester. “Well,” began Stanfield, “have you made up your mind?”

A.J. answered, with a wry smile: “I don’t feel in the least like jumping at the job, but I’m aware that I must either take it or leave Russia.”

“And you’re as keen as all that on not leaving Russia?”

“I rather think I am.”

“That means you’ll take on the job.”

“I suppose it does.”

Here Forrester intervened with: “I suppose Stanfield gave you details of what you’d have to do?”

“More or less—yes.”