We had been given our assignments and had each set off on our separate missions. There was one tiny grain of comfort: at least whoever had stood Harry’s watchers down hadn’t replaced them with his own. Unless they were very good indeed – and I sincerely doubted that they were good enough to stay that well hidden for that long without slipping up – I, for one, spent my day entirely unobserved. The obverse of this cheery coin was that it was a good bet that Ehrlichmann/Gerber knew where we were, but even that was something that we intended to take advantage of.
Harry’s task had been the most straightforward, but perhaps the most difficult. He had been dispatched to the Foreign Office to try to find out why the watchers – placed there under his own orders – were now missing and why no one had troubled to consult him on the matter.
My own part in the affair was more pleasurable and after completing the first part of my tasks for the day, I was the first one to return to the flat. I made myself a sandwich and set about rearranging the furniture in the way Lady Hardcastle had described, paying particular attention to the placing of the large armchair and the lamp.
With that done and my sandwich eaten, I left once more to make some more arrangements. We had all managed to convince ourselves that Ehrlichmann would make his move soon and that he would be most likely to wait until after dark. The disappearance of our watchers seemed to indicate that tonight might be the night and so there was some degree of urgency in putting Lady Hardcastle’s plan into action.
It was dusk by the time Lady Hardcastle and I reconvened at the flat and put the finishing touches to her plan. We set everything up together, but once the dummy was in place, she was careful to keep the light between her and the window blinds so that her shadow was not seen.
By now, you’ve probably surmised that Lady Hardcastle’s plan, taken as it was from that particular Sherlock Holmes book, might have involved a waxwork dummy sitting in a chair near a window. And you’d be right. The Adventure of the Empty House had provided the inspiration, and Joan from Madame Tussaud’s had provided an old head that looked very similar to Lady Hardcastle along with a generic body of about the right size. It had been delivered in a large packing crate which two porters from the waxworks had very kindly brought up to the flat.
‘Are you sure this is going to fool him, my lady?’ I said as I put the finishing touches to the dummy’s costume.
‘Fool him? I can’t see why not. Dear old Joan made some hasty adjustments to this old head with her trusty sculptor’s tools and it does bear more than a passing resemblance to yours truly. I should think it will make him believe that I am sitting alone in the flat and lure him into this room where we can spring our trap.’
‘I do hope you’re right, my lady,’ I said. ‘Did you ever imagine it would come to this?’
‘Come to what, dear? Setting traps for murderous assassins? I don’t suppose I did, no.’
‘I meant being pursued by murderous assassins in the first place,’ I said. ‘I’m not sure it crossed my mind when you casually said, “I say, Flo, do you fancy spying for the Queen?” It seemed like a fantastic adventure, but not a dangerous one. When we fled through China, into Burma – oh my goodness, do you remember that terrifying trip down the Irrawaddy? – I thought we were going to die most days. But even then I thought the danger was behind us. We had more than our fair share of run-ins with people who wanted to kill us, but so far none of them managed to get up and pursue us halfway round the world after we had dealt with them.’
‘No, we’ve been quite fortunate that way. Due in no small part to your prodigious skills, dear. For your part, did you ever imagine you could kill a man with your bare hands?’
‘I was quite a scrapper back in the Valleys.’
She laughed. ‘I don’t doubt it. But you see what I mean. We none of us can predict the future.’
‘My Auntie Bronwyn could see the future. Or so she claimed.’
She chuckled again ‘So you said, pet, so you said. But now let us conceal ourselves and prepare to spring our trap. You know your duties?’
‘I do indeed, my lady,’ I said, and set about my own preparations for the final phase while she concealed herself in the shadows in the corner of the drawing room.
It was a long evening. Just as in The Adventure of the Empty House, the Lady Hardcastle dummy had to be surreptitiously moved at regular intervals to simulate the appearance of a real woman spending a quiet evening relaxing with a good book.
Time dragged on.
Just after midnight there was a scratching at the lock on the front door as though a drunk were fumbling clumsily to get his key to fit into the impossibly tiny keyhole. Then, with a click, the door opened and stealthy footsteps crept along the short passage to the drawing room door. Slowly that door opened and there, silhouetted in the light that had spilled in from the landing, stood Günther Ehrlichmann (or Karl Gerber as we now knew him). He held a silenced automatic pistol in his hand.
Unexpectedly, he didn’t enter the room.
‘Lady Hardcastle, Miss Armstrong,’ he said from the doorway. ‘Please step into the centre of the room with your arms raised above your heads.’
We didn’t move.
‘Come, ladies, I too have read The Adventure of the Empty House. It is much better in German, I feel. Did you think to fool me with your dummy and your shadow show? Please step from your hiding places now before I lose my patience.’
The plan appeared to be falling apart. If he had stepped into the room we would have jumped him but standing there in the hallway with gun levelled, there was little we could do to break the stalemate. Reluctantly, Lady Hardcastle stepped from the shadows and I stood from my hiding place beside the armchair.
‘That is so much better,’ said Gerber. ‘Now we can talk.’
‘Talk?’ said Lady Hardcastle, incredulously.
‘Of course, talk,’ said Gerber. ‘We are civilized people, we should talk.’
‘Before you kill us,’ she said.
‘Yes, of course you must both die. But first I should like to talk. I have spent a lot of time imagining this moment, and I should hate for it to pass without some… ceremony. Yes, I think there should be ceremony. We should make a moment of it.’
‘Perhaps you should come in, join us in a drink. There’s no need to be so formal if we’re to die anyway,’ said Lady Hardcastle, icily. ‘Let’s at least make our last moments pleasant ones. Come in, do.’
‘I think not, Lady Hardcastle. I have heard much about you in recent months and I do not intend to put myself within reach of your deadly servant. We shall talk as we are.’