This was difficult. It should, he felt every morning, be growing easier—but somehow the facility did not seem to come. Always, instead of being Nils Jorgensen at once, he had to start at the very beginning again, and go over that last incredible day in Berlin, dwelling particularly upon every word of the breath-taking hour he had spent with the Personage to whom the General had taken him. . . .
He, Heinrich Maximilian Otto Falken, born Von Falkenhaus, was to perform, in another and fictitious identity, work of secret and tremendous importance to the Cause of the New Germany. . . . “This is not work, Otto Falken, which will bring you public honour! But it is vital work!” . . . He, Otto Falken, after he had properly become Nils Jorgensen, was to be a doubly secret agent of the Reich, working “in another country, unsupported among enemies”—another country which, his reason told him, must be Britain! . . . “When you reach your final destination, Falken, you will apparently be under the orders of persons who think they are your superiors. You must obey these orders. But, at the same time, you will obey orders which you have received directly from myself Which practically means, Falken, directly from the Fuehrer!” . . . Yet he was not told in so many words where this great work would ultimately lie. . . . “It is not safe to tell you too much, Falken. You will receive orders in proper gradation, as and when they are necessary! . . . The work—or, rather, the first step in the work—was to become Nils Jorgensen. When he was Nils Jorgensen, he would receive the first instalment of his orders. Therefore, the sooner he fully assumed the new personality, the sooner could he begin this vitally important, this tremendously exciting, service to his country. . . . He knew how the orders would come: someone, somewhere, at some time, would show him the pencil. If he were still in doubt after this, he must casually introduce a question as to the time—and then, if he were answered in the form which was burned into his memory, he would know. . . .
He lay very still in the bed, his eyes screwed tightly shut. . . . Now for the second step of the exercise—a rehearsal in his mind of Nils’ physical surroundings. . . .
Nils’ room—this room where he lay—was an attic in the house of Axel Christensen, carpenter, The house of Axel Christensen was on the outskirts of the village of Kornemunde, some thirty miles from Stockholm. Below, abutting on to the eastern side of the house, was the long barn-like workshop in which Axel plied his trade of joiner and carpenter and in which he himself would presently be at work—for a little, public part of the time helping Axel with local orders, for the rest attaining, under Axel’s teaching, proficiency in such arts of carpentry, joinery and the like as would qualify him for the part of carpenter’s mate (or whatever they called it) upon an ocean-going ship. . . . Downstairs, immediately below the stiff and silent and hardly-ever-used parlour, which in turn was directly below his attic, came the kitchen—and there, very shortly, he would eat. . . .
So much for the geography! Now for Nils himself—and his wherefore and why! Nils (never forget!) is nephew to Axel Christensen, a brother of his mother’s. Nils has never before this visit seen his uncle—but his uncle, upon receiving the frightful news that his sister and her Norwegian husband, resident in the unfortunate northern half of Norway, had been killed by a German bomb, made haste to summon his nephew (absent at sea at the time of the catastrophe) and take him under his wing and set him to work in the ‘shop.’ Axel hopes (don’t forget) that his husky, skilful, personable, craftsmanlike nephew will make his stay permanent; will not, as other mates and apprentices seem so often to have done before, leave him suddenly and selfishly. . . . Axel says nothing (nor must Nils) of the instruction in sea-going carpentry. . . .
All right! Part Two of the programme is over. . . . Now for Part Three—and Nils can get up and go about this strange new world believing he is part of it!
Part Three is more fun than its predecessors, because he can use his senses. . . .
