Part 3 (2/2)

He next wrote to the Premier to offer his services as a spy, but received no answer. Thinking that it had been intercepted by German agents, he wrote again but still received no answer. He decided that he could at any rate practise being a spy, so went out wearing Robert's hat and coat, but, despite the corked moustache that was supposed to conceal his ident.i.ty, he was instantly recognised by Robert and his ears boxed so soundly that he reluctantly abandoned his spy career.

'Cares more about an ole coat an' hat than winnin' the war,' he muttered indignantly. 'He oughter be put in prison, carin' more for an ole coat an' hat than winnin' the war.'

He had almost given up hope of being allowed to make any appreciable contribution to his country's cause when he heard his family discussing an individual called 'Quisling' who apparently, and in a most mysterious fas.h.i.+on, existed simultaneously in at least a dozen places.

'I bet there's one of 'em in England,' said Robert darkly. 'Getting things ready or thinking he's getting things ready . . . Gos.h.!.+ I'd like to get my hands on him.'

'But who is he?' said William.

'Shut up!' said Robert. 'They're jolly well going to put a spoke in his wheel in Turkey. They never expected to find him in Holland or Belgium!'

'Holland or Belgium?' said William. 'Thought you said he was in Holland or Turkey. Thought-'

'Shut up!' said Robert and went on darkly: 'And he's right here in England, too. We'll have to keep our eyes open.'

William was past further query or comment.

He tackled his mother, however, the first time he found her alone.

'I say,' he said, 'who is this Grisling man?'

'Quisling, dear,' corrected his mother.

William waved the objection aside.

'Sounds the same,' he said. 'Anyway he can't be in Turkey an' Belgium an' Holland an' England at the same time. No one could. Robert's cracked, sayin' he can be.'

'Well, dear, he's not really the same man,' said Mrs Brown. 'He's a sort of type.'

'What's that?' demanded William. 'Thought it was a kind of dog.'

'No, dear,' said Mrs Brown patiently. 'This particular man was a Norwegian and helped the Germans to get a footing in his country, and other people in other countries who try to do the same, are all called Quisling.'

'Why?' said William. 'Why can't they call them by their real names?'

'They don't know what their real names are.'

'Why don't they ask them?'

'Really William,' said Mrs Brown helplessly, 'I can't explain it any more. Go out of doors and play.'

'Well, listen,' pleaded William. 'Tell me jus' one thing. How do they do it? How do they get people to let ole Hitler in?'

Mrs Brown sighed resignedly.

'I'm not quite sure, dear. I think they sort of make people believe that they'd have no chance of resisting him and so it's best to let him in. They try to frighten people. At least, I think that's it.'

'Why doesn't the Gov'ment lock 'em up?'

'They don't know who they are.'

'Thought they knew they were called Grisling.'

'No dear, they don't.'

'I 'spose they pretend they're called other things jus' to put the Gov'ment right off the scent.'

'Yes, I suppose they do,' said Mrs Brown, settling down to darn a pile of table napkins.

'They might pretend to be called anythin'.'

'Yes,' agreed Mrs Brown. 'I suppose they might. This linen really ought to have worn better. If it weren't for the war I shouldn't trouble to mend them at all.'

'There might be one here pretendin' to be called anythin'.'

'I suppose so, dear . . . It's partly the laundry, of course. They simply maul things.'

'An' I bet no one knows who he is. If they did they'd have him in prison.'

'What are you talking about, dear?' said Mrs Brown, bringing her mind with an effort from the composition of a projected letter of complaint to the laundry.

'Ole Grissel,' said William.

'Grissel? Oh, I know what you mean. He isn't called that, but I've forgotten just for the moment what he is called.'

'Bet I'd catch him all right if I was the Gov'ment.'

'He's not alone, of course, dear. He has a lot of people working under him. It's a very complicated organisation, I believe . . . Now, William, do leave that table napkin alone. It was just a weak place before you started pus.h.i.+ng your fingers through it, and now it's a real hole.'

'Well, I'm sorry,' said William. 'I didn't know it was goin' to go through like that. I hardly pushed at all . . . Well look here, are they tryin' to catch this ole Grissel?'

'I expect so, dear.'

'I bet they're not,' said William darkly. 'I jolly well bet they're not. Why didn't they catch him in Norfolk, then?'

'It was Norway, dear, not Norfolk.'

'Well, why didn't they? I don't b'lieve they're tryin' at all. An' he's goin' about same as you or me. It might be anyone. It might be someone we know. It might be Robert, 'cept that he's not got enough brains for it.'

'Well, William, you can't do anything, so stop worrying about it.'

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