'Right,' he said. 'I hit you on the head because I do not wish to die through association with an idiot. Your behaviour was not only juvenile, but also dangerous. Do you have no sense at all? You were utterly unaware I was behind you, even though I went out of my way to give you as much warning as possible. Have you learned nothing? Remembered nothing? Did you ever, even once, look round to check who was behind you? No. You strolled down a dark alley, hands in your pockets like some idiot tourist. I did hit you harder than was necessary, I am sure. I apologise for that. But I was so outraged I felt like hitting you even harder, and you should thank me for my restraint.'
If my head was spinning from the blow he had inflicted on me, it was spinning even faster now as I tried to understand what on earth he was talking about.
'I was asked to come to your lodging, sir,' I said stiffly, 'and collect a letter. That was all. Nobody mentioned anything about playing hide and seek through the streets with a murderous lunatic.'
He paused, then looked at me more soberly. 'You aren't . . . Oh, my God! Who are you? What are you?'
I told him that I was a banker working for Barings. He snorted, then laughed out loud.
'In that case I owe you an apology,' he said, with the air of a man who didn't really think that he owed me anything of the sort. 'You must think me a very strange fellow.'
'I think I could manage a better description of you than that,' I said.
'Come with me.'
He helped me off the bed, steadied me as I almost fell over again, then guided me to the door and down the stairs.
He took me to some sort of bar. It was nearly ten o'clock. He led me over to a table in a dark corner, got me to sit, then called for brandy. I was not used, at that stage, to drinking brandy but he insisted, and after a very short while I found that my head stopped hurting, and my speech became voluble.
'So,' he began once more, 'I apologise. And owe you an explanation. I was under the impression that you knew what you were about. What Mr Wilkinson is thinking of, sending me someone so unprepared is quite beyond me. He knows how I . . .'
His trail of thought came to an end as he drank his brandy down in one go, and called for another. The place we were in was the sort of establishment I would never dream of entering, or would not have done then. I imagined that every single person in it – all were men – was some sort of cut-throat, pimp or robber. I later learned that this assessment was entirely correct.
He grunted. 'My name is Jules Lefevre . . . in fact, that is not my name, but no matter. It will do. I provide certain information to His Majesty's Government which it otherwise might find difficult to obtain.'
'You are French?' I asked.
'Perhaps. Now, it is important that the information I provide reaches its destination. It is also important that it does not fall into the wrong hands, it being of a confidential nature. Do you understand?'
'I believe so,' I said.
'In which case, it is important that those people carrying these letters know how to keep them. You agree that this is important.'
'Absolutely,' I said.
'Good. So that is what Wilkinson has asked me to do with you. Teach you to look after yourself.'
'Are you sure?'
'He said he was sending someone to me to finish his training, and he would identify himself by coming to ask for a package. That seems like you.'
'I know, but no one has ever mentioned anything of this to me. I feel I should have been consulted . . .' I could tell I was sounding more petulant with every word I uttered, and decided to keep quiet. You could say that my future was decided solely by a desire not to appear silly to a man I scarcely knew.
'Well, you weren't. I suppose there was a good reason. Now, what I did to you just now could have been done by anyone. And your lack of attention could have had severe consequences. The only good thing to come out of it would be that you would be dead and unable to mess anything else up.'
My head was still spinning, and still hurt foully, even though the brandy had steadied it a little. In compensation, my empty stomach was also beginning to add its protest at being subjected to the brandy. Lefevre was eyeing me curiously.
'You don't know what this is all about?'
'No.'
His eyes narrowed, as he considered the meaning of it. Then he shook his head. 'No point trying to fathom the ways of the great and the good. That's his decision and I suppose I must live with it. It seems you are to be my apprentice, so we might as well get started. Be at the Gare de l'Est tomorrow morning at eight. I will meet you in the buffet. You will not recognise me or greet me in any way. But when I move, you follow me. Do you understand?
'I understand, but I'm not sure I agree,' I replied. 'What do you mean, your apprentice? And what's this about getting started? Started on what?'
'Learning how to stay alive, of course.'
'I was managing quite well until I met you. And what if I don't want to be your apprentice?'
