Epitaph for a Spy Read Online Free Page A

freely to a member of the Department of Naval Intelligence, but I did not raise the point. I had, indeed, every intention of speaking as freely as I was allowed to.
    “Very well. I admitted taking the photographs because I did take them. That is, all those on the spool with the exception of the first ten.”
    “Quite so. Then how do you account for those first ten photographs?”
    “I think the spool in my camera was changed.”
    He raised his eyebrows. I plunged into a long account of my movements since leaving Nice and the deductions I hadmade concerning the origin of the incriminating photographs. He heard me out, but was obviously not impressed.
    “This, of course, is not evidence,” he said when I had finished.
    “I don’t offer it as evidence. I am just trying to find a rational explanation of this fantastic affair.”
    “The Commissaire thinks that he has found the explanation. I do not blame him. On the face of things the case against you is perfectly good. The photographs are on a negative which you have admitted to be yours. You are also a suspicious person. Simple!”
    I looked him in the eye.
    “But I take it that you are not satisfied, Monsieur?”
    “I didn’t say that.”
    “No, but you would scarcely be here talking to me in this way if you were satisfied.”
    His jowl distorted into the beginnings of a grin.
    “You overrate your importance. I am not interested in spies, but in who employs them.”
    “Then,” I said angrily, “you are wasting your time. I am not the person who took the photographs, and my only employer is Monsieur Mathis, who pays me to teach languages.”
    But he did not appear to be listening. There was a pause.
    “The Commissaire and I agreed,” he said at last, “that you were one of three things—a clever spy, a very stupid one, or an innocent man. I may say that the Commissaire thought that you must be the second. I was inclined from the first to think you innocent. You behaved far too stupidly. No guilty man would be such an imbecile.”
    “Thank you.”
    “I am not in the least desirous of your thanks, Vadassy. It was a conclusion that I disliked exceedingly. In any case, I can do nothing for you now. Understand that, please. You have been arrested by the Commissaire. You may be innocent, but it will not disturb my rest in the slightest if you are sent to prison.”
    “I feel sure of that.”
    “On the other hand,” he continued thoughtfully, “it is essential that I should know who
did
take the photographs.”
    There was another silence. I felt that I was expected to make some comment. But I waited for him to go on. After a few moments he did so.
    “If the real criminal is discovered, we may, Vadassy, be able to do something for you.”
    “Do something for me?”
    He cleared his throat noisily.
    “Well, of course, you have no consul to intervene on your behalf. It is our responsibility to see that you are treated properly. Providing, naturally, that you co-operate with us in a satisfactory manner, you need have no fears.”
    “I have already told you all I know, Monsieur …” I stopped. There was a lump in my throat and the words would not come. But the fat man evidently thought that I was waiting to be supplied with his name.
    “Beghin,” he said, “Michel Beghin.”
    He paused and looked at his stomach once more. The cell was insufferably hot and I could see the sweat from his chest staining through his striped shirt. “All the same,” he added, “I think you may be able to help us.”
    He got up from the bed, went to the cell door and bangedon it once with his fist. The key clicked in the lock and I saw the uniform of an
agent
outside. The fat man muttered something I did not hear and the door closed again. He remained standing there and lit another cigarette. A minute later the door opened again and he took something from the
agent
. As the door closed once more he turned round. In his hand was the camera.
    “You recognize this?”
    “Of