HAMMERSLEY EXPLAINS
“Really?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Rather stiffly Hammersley took off his leather jacket and sweater and rolled up the sleeve of his flannel shirt. Von Stromberg examined the wound with interest.
“So” he said. “Put on your coat. And after that?”
“I kept away from Ben-a-Chielt and put up for the night at my cousin’s.”
“Who is that?”
“Lady Heathcote”
“Oh, yes. It was at her house in London that the message passed to you.”
“Yes, Excellenz.”
Von Stromberg paused a moment and then spoke abruptly.
“Why did you not give the papers to Rizzio?”
Hammersley’s gaze met the General’s squarely.
“They were too important. I could not take the risk.”
“But his orders superseded yours.”
“I saw—but I could not take the risk.”
“Why?”
“Because I had reason to believe that Rizzio was acting for the English Government.”
Von Stromberg’s burning gaze flickered and went out. He took a few paces across the room, his right hand tapping the back of his left. At last he came and stood before Hammersley, his hands behind his back.
“What were your reasons for believing that?”
“Maxwell learned it from Byfield.”
“Maxwell! You saw Maxwell—when?”
“The night I left London.”
147
