Part 18 (1/2)
”Six pounds a week.”
”Have you any savings?”
”A little. A few pounds.”
”How much is the rent of your flat?”
”Fifty s.h.i.+llings a week.”
”That's quite a lot, isn't it, Elizabeth? Have you paid your rent recently?”
She shook her head helplessly.
”Why not?” Karden continued. ”Have you no money?”
In a whisper she replied: ”I've got a lease. Someone bought the lease and sent it to me.”
”Who?”
”I don't know.” Tears were running down her face. ”I don't know;.. . Please don't ask any more questions. I don't know who it was. . . six weeks ago they sent it, a bank in the City. . . some Charity bad done it. . . a thousand pounds. I swear I don't know who . . . a gift from a Charity, they said. You know everything . . . you tell me who. . .”
Burying her face in her hands she wept, her back still turned to the court, her shoulders moving as the sobs shook her body. No one moved, and at length she lowered her hands but did not look up.
”Why didn't you inquire?” Karden asked simply. ”Or are you used to receiving anonymous gifts of a thousand pounds?”
She said nothing and Karden continued: ”You didn't inquire because you guessed. Isn't that right?”
Raising her hand to her face again, she nodded.
”You guessed it came from Leamas, or from Leamas' friend, didn't you?”
”Yes,” she managed to say. ”I heard in the Street that the grocer had got some money, a lot of money from somewhere after the trial. There was a lot of talk about it, and I knew it must be Alec's friend. ..
”How very strange,” said Karden almost to himself. ”How odd.” And then: ”Tell me, Elizabeth, did anyone get in touch with you after Leamas went to prison?”
”No,” she lied. She knew now, she was sure they wanted to prove something against Alec, something about the money or his friends; something about the grocer.
”Are you sure?” Karden asked, his eyebrows raised above the gold rims of his spectacles.
”Yes.”
”But your neighbor, Elizabeth,” Karden objected patiently, ”says that men called--two men--quite soon after Leamas had been sentenced; or were they just lovers, Elizabeth? Casual lovers, like Leamas, who gave you money?”
”Alec _wasn't_ a casual lover!” she cried. ”How can you--” - ”But he gave you money. Did the men give you money, too?”
”Oh G.o.d,” she sobbed, ”don't ask--”
”Who were they?” She did not reply, then Karden shouted, quite suddenly; it was the first time he had raised his voice. ”_Who?_”
”I don't know. They came in a car. Friends of Alec.”
”More friends? What did they want?”
”I don't know. They kept asking me what he had told me. They told me to get in touch with them if--”
”_How?_ _How_ get in touch with them?”
At last she replied: ”He lived in Chelsea. . . his name was Smiley.. . George Smiley. . . I was to ring him.”
”And did you?”
”No!”
Karden had put down his file. A deathly silence had descended on the court. Pointing toward Leanias, Karden said, in a voice more impressive because it was perfectly under control: ”Smiley wanted to know whether Leamas had told her too much. Leamas had done the one thing British Intelligence had never expected him to do: he had taken a girl and wept on her shoulder.”
Then Karden laughed quietly, as if it were all such a neat joke. ”Just as Karl Riemeck did. He's made the same mistake.”
”Did Leamas ever talk about himself?” Karden continued.
”No.”
”You know nothing about his past?”
”No. I knew he'd done something in Berlin. Something for the Government.”
”Then he did talk about his past, didn't he? Did he tell you he had been married?”
There was a long silence. Liz nodded.
”Why didn't you see him after he went to prison? You could have visited him.”
”I didn't think he'd want me to.”
”I see. Did you write to him?”
”No. Yes, once . . . just to tell him I'd wait. I didn't think he'd mind.”
”You didn't think he would want that either?”
”No.”
”And when he had served his time in prison, you didn't try to get in touch with him?”
”No.”
”Did he have anywhere to go, did he have a job waiting for him--friends who would take him in?”