Dark Duet by Peter Cheyney

Author:Peter Cheyney [Cheyney, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dean Street Press
Published: 2021-11-09T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THREE

You Can Always Duck

I

Seitzen stood looking out of the window. Outside the rain descended in sheets. The grass patch between the cottage and the woods was soaked, the shrubs broken and bedraggled. The sound of the steam whistle of a train rumbling in the direction of Dublin made the twilight even more dolorous.

Seitzen murmured: “This is one hell of a country when it rains.”

He turned from the window. He was short, squat, heavy. The raincoat he was wearing seemed too large for him. The sleeves almost covered his hands. His face was round and his jowls hung almost over his collar. He wore horn-rimmed spectacles. He looked studious and unpleasant.

Hiltsch, who was sitting at the table writing, said:

“It looks bad when it’s not raining. Everywhere looks bad to me.” He smiled ruefully. “It is going to look much worse in a minute.”

Seitzen raised his eyebrows.

“Yes?” he said. “Why? What are you afraid of?”

“The same thing as you are—” said Hiltsch, “Hildebrand!”

Seitzen said impatiently: “I don’t understand this business about being afraid of Hildebrand.”

“Don’t you?” said Hiltsch.

He shrugged his shoulders, laid down his pen. He tilted his chair back, and put his feet on the desk. He regarded his well-cut shoes with his head on one side.

Seitzen turned back to the window. He was annoyed. You couldn’t talk to Hiltsch. And if you did talk, it didn’t do any good. He fumbled for a cigarette with pudgy fingers.

Hiltsch began to whistle softly to himself. He was good-looking in a way. He looked like a young imitation of a boulevardier of the fifties—except that he was clean shaven. His middle-brown hair was wavy and his skin good. He was tall, slim and well-dressed. At one time he had been a Group Leader in the S.A., with hopes of getting a good job in the S.S. That was a long time ago.

The trouble with Seitzen, thought Hiltsch, is that he is yellow. As yellow as hell. What a hell of a fellow to work with—and on a job like this one. Why, if they wanted a difficult job done, didn’t they give you good material to work with.

He began to speak quickly and softly in German.

“You are either a liar or a damn’ fool, Seitzen,” he said. “I’ve never met anybody yet who wasn’t afraid of Hildebrand. Have you ever heard of Columbia House?”

Seitzen nodded. “Yes,” he said. “Well?”

“Hildebrand used to run Columbia House,” said Hiltsch. “That was the time when he was running the 12th Berlin Group. They used to take suspects to Columbia for questioning. Some of them thought they were tough, but they always talked. Hildebrand has got more and better ways of making people talk than anybody I know.” He lit a cigarette. “I saw him do something to an old Jew one night with a fire-hose . . . you can’t imagine how damned slowly the old boy died. Hildebrand certainly has imagination.”

Seitzen said: “Very likely. But I still don’t see why we have to be afraid of Hildebrand—in Eire.

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