It was not so long before a guard came to conduct me to the officers' mess. The warden was sitting at the head of the high table. Other long tables were more crowded. I was to sit at his table, but not near him, at the far end. We should be too far apart to talk comfortably. Before taking my seat, I went up to salute him. He looked surprised and did not return my greeting. I noticed all the men sitting round immediately leaned together and began speaking in undertones, glancing furtively at me. I seemed to have made an unfavourable impression. I had assumed he would remember me, but he appeared not to know who I was. To remind him of our former connexion might make things worse, so I sat down in my distant place.
I could hear him talking amiably to the officers near him. Their conversation was of arrests and escapes. I was not interested until he told the story of his own flight, involving; big car, a snowstorm, crashing frontier gates, bullets, a girl. He never once looked in my direction or took any notice of me.
From time to time troops could be heard marching past outside. Suddenly there was an explosion. Part of the ceiling collapsed and the lights went out. Hurricane lamps were brought and put on the table. They showed fragments of plaster lying among the dishes. The food was ruined, uneatable, covered in dust and debris. It was taken away. A long and tedious wait followed; then finally bowls of hard boiled eggs were put down in front of us. Intermittent explosions continued to shake the building, a haze of whitish dust hung in the air, everything was gritty to touch.
The warden was playing a game of surprising me. He beckoned at the end of the meal. 'I enjoyed your broadcasts. You have a gift for that sort of thing.' I was astonished that he knew of the work I had been doing. His voice was friendly, he spoke to me as an equal, and just for a moment, I felt identified with him in an obscure sort of intimacy. He went on to say I had timed my arrival well. 'Our transmitter will soon be in operation, and yours will be put out of action.' I had always told the authorities we needed a more powerful installation; that it was only a question of time before the existing apparatus was jammed by a stronger one. He assumed that I had heard this was about to happen, and had defected accordingly. He wanted me to broadcast propaganda for him, which I agreed to do, if he would do something for me. 'Still the same thing?' 'Yes.' He looked at me in amusement, but suspicion flashed in his eyes. Nevertheless he remarked casually, 'Her room's on the floor above; we may as well pay her a visit,' and led the way out. But when I said, 'I have to deliver a personal message; could I see her alone?' he did not reply.
We went down one passage, up some stairs and along another. The beam of his powerful torch played on floors littered with rubbish. Footprints showed in the dust; I looked among them for her smaller prints. He opened a door into a dimly lit room. She jumped up. Her white startled face; big eyes staring at me under glittering hair. 'You again!' She stood rigid, held the chair in front of her as for protection, hands clenched on the back, knuckles standing out white. 'What do you want?' 'Only to talk to you.' Looking from one of us to the other, she accused: 'You're in league together.' I denied it: though in a strange way there seemed to be some truth in the charge. . . . 'Of course you are. He wouldn't bring you here otherwise.'
The warden approached her, smiling. I had never seen him look so benevolent. 'Come now, that's not a very kind way to greet an old friend. Can't we all have a friendly talk? You've never told me how you first got to know each other.' It was clear that he had no intention of leaving us alone. I gazed at her silently, could not talk to her in front of him. His personality was too dominant, his influence too strong. In his presence she was frightened, antagonistic. Barriers were created. I was distracted myself. No wonder he smiled. I might as well not have found her. A distant explosion shook the walls; she watched the white dust float down from the ceiling. For the sake of saying something, I asked if the bombing disturbed her. Her face blank, her bright hair shimmering, she silently moved her head in a way that meant anything, nothing.
