So it happened in this case. Morvan was valuable as a radio operator. Claire was an excellent stenographer, and the Powers That Be know exactly how valuable a good stenographer is in time of war. She spoke English and could also work a radio transmitter, having been initiated into this mystery by her brother. As for Cousin, his degree of education, his officer status, and
his brilliant military record singled him out as abso-
lutely first-rate material.
When the offer was put to him, accompanied by a number of laudatory comments on his bearing and conduct. Cousin realized that it applied only to a select few, and did not hesitate for a moment. He accepted immediately and urged his companions to do likewise. They were then allotted quarters in a requisitioned hotel in London and were asked to wait until further
notice.
Claire was the first to be summoned, the very next day. The Anglo-French service that was then being hastily organized was in urgent need of stenographers. A few days later Morvan was sent to a camp for training in the latest radio equipment. For Cousin, the period of waiting lasted several weeks; he seemed to have been forgotten. At first he simply felt slightly annoyed; then he launched into a frenzied tirade against English bureaucracy, which, as far as he could see, had no more to recommend it than did that of his own country. He sent the authorities several reminders of his presence, in which his impatience and eagerness for action were expressed in no uncertain terms, and begged to be employed on any dangerous mission.
His patriotism and perseverance were finally rewarded, and the manner in which he was summoned was particularly pleasing to his sense of romance. He received a brief note ordering him to report to London, and eventually found himself facing a strange civilian in what looked like an ordinary business office. He felt a sudden shiver of excitement on discovering, from the ensuing conversation, that he was being invited to work for a service whose name alone conjured up an image of mystery and adventure.
5
The instant he realized he was being asked to take part in clandestine warfare was one of the most sublime moments of his life. His whole body quivered, infused with the breath of the solemn poetry engendered by the thought of special services in wartime, and his dreams at once assumed a new form. Mystery and intrigue added a special pungency to the scent of glory that his mind was forever distilling. A phrase he had once noticed in the course of his reading began buzzing through his brain: “Intelligence work is a noble profession—an occupation for gentlemen."
Before the civilian had even mentioned it, he fore- saw the nature of the mission on which he was to be engaged: they were going to send him into France secretly. He had every reason for drawing this conclusion. On several occasions, during his interviews with the authorities, the importance attached to underground activity in enemy-occupied territory had been hinted at in guarded terms. He had often played with the idea of being employed in this field, but it had
seemed too wonderful for him to dare to think about. Suddenly realizing he had been far too modest and that he was considered worthy of such a perilous task, he was dazzled by the thought of the possibilities this new universe opened to a man of his mettle.
“I’ve a certain amount of information about you,” the civilian was saying. "At the front, always volunteered for the tough jobs. Fine. I’ve also read the account of your escape from France. I must congratulate you . . ."
Cousin did not reply, realizing that nothing he could say would add to his reputation, which emerged from the facts alone.
“Again, in London, I see, you applied for a dangerous mission. I’ve got a particularly tricky one to offer you, more hazardous and worthwhile than anything you’re likely to come across in the regular army . . . because, as you’re no doubt aware, this means joining a very special service."
An expression of ecstasy came into Cousin’s eyes. There was no doubt about it: this civilian, this slightly
pot-bellied, middle-aged man with the deceptively cas- ual manner, this ordinary-looking office of his—all this meant not only a secret service, but the world-famous, one and only Intelligence Service. He felt a twinge of condescending pity for some of his compatriots he had met in London who were attempting, with such meager means, to establish an intelligence branch within the
framework of Free France. He, Cousin, would be working for the Big Shots, the Kings of the Profession!
"What we need," continued the middle-aged man, who on occasion was not averse to dilating on the philosophical aspect of his job, “what we need are men of action, certainly—but, above all, we need brains. The ideal agent is someone who possesses a will of iron subordinated to intellectual faculties of the highest order. Lawrence will probably always be the perfect example of this. We believe that you have unique qualifications.”
For him, this was tantamount to a revelation. Did he not possess this rare mixture of contradictory qualities? Why hadn’t they thought of employing him in this field before? Why hadn’t he thought of it himself? He felt almost physically sick as he recalled the commonplace tasks to which he had been restricted in the regular army. As a matter of fact, it now occurred to him that he had always suspected he was destined for greater exploits.
He listened in a daze and with eager impatience while the civilian described his eventual mission in broad outline. He would be sent into France with a radio operator. There he would have to create an intelligence network. So far there was no proper organization. He would be given a free hand and would have to make important decisions on his own initiative.
“We’ve got any amount of potential material over there, but what we’re short of are organizers, you understand?”
Each word was a stimulant to Cousin’s pride, and not for a second did he envisage the dangers of this operation. For the moment there was only one clearly defined thought in his head: a strange urge to break off this conversation so as to be able to commune with himself.
He longed to be by himself because the other man’s presence hindered the full development of the dreams that were gradually taking shape in his mind. He pictured himself vaguely in the guise of a mysterious X, an unknown figure but famous throughout France because of his exploits, a phantom warrior who, during the still watches of the night, was discussed in excited
whispers in the towns and in the countryside, who es- caped every trap the enemy set, thanks to his superhuman cunning, and who emerged from the shadows only on the day of victory. His mind had an imperative need of solitude to put these fleeting images in order and to find the ideal form for their incarnation by drawing on a mass of material details that could be brought to light only in peaceful seclusion.
He accepted the offer without questioning a single point and declared himself ready to start as soon as they wished. The civilian seemed pleased with this impetuosity but informed him that first of all he would have to go through a special trai
ning course.
Before even embarking on this stage, he would have to report to several offices and submit to a rigorous cross-examination carried out by a number of experts. He acquiesced to these formalities without showing too much impatience.
One of these specialists, who interrogated him in French, first asked him a number of questions that seemed to have no bearing at all on his new functions, before concentrating on his past activities, his antecedents, and the state of his health. Cousin felt it was like being put through a medical examination of a rather special kind. The examiner actually was a doctor; in
fact, he was a psychiatrist—Dr. Fog.
After the interrogation, which Cousin thought perfectly absurd, Dr. Fog switched without a pause to his mission and asked him when he was thinking of starting.