The Long Summer of Monsieur Loiseau

The full picture of the matter slowly emerged after four days.During the period, the police came once, asked a few innocuous questions, made hasty notes, and left.Then came plainclothes MI10 agents, not the two who had taken Alex, probably civilians from their attire.They stopped Harry as he was about to go out, stuck him in the living room for about [-], [-] minutes, questioned him about his relationship with Alex, about his relationship with Barry, whether he had joined any known radical groups, Was there any contact with anyone in the Soviet diplomatic corps, any suspicious anonymous letters, etc.Harry answered no, didn't know, didn't pay attention, and asked about Alex's whereabouts.The two agents pretended not to hear him, put away their notebooks, and said they would come back if there were more questions.

They didn't come again. 24 hours passed and there was no news from Alex.Harry plucked up the courage to call the baron. The other party already knew about this matter and was negotiating with the family lawyer, Mr. Brummer, looking for ropes that could be pulled and favors that could be honored.However, MI[-] took an unusually tough stance, refusing to inform Alex's whereabouts, claiming that this was not an interrogation, but merely assisting the investigation, and that "Mr. Loiseau was treated as befitting of his status".Anxious, Harry then went to Digby in the hope that he might be able to find out something, but the admiral's son didn't know anything either.From his mouth, Harry learned that James was also taken away for questioning the day before yesterday.MI[-] had clearly figured out Barry's social circle, and brought the entire Harrow School club into sight.The agents also locked up Digby, but the Admiral put pressure on the Secretary of Defense, who approached the Foreign Office, who in turn leveraged the lever of MI[-], forcing the unwilling Five to loosen it. After he finished speaking, he was released in less than ten hours.

"What the hell did Barry do?" Harry asked.

The big man frowned and moved his lips as if he really needed to chew on the question, thinking that was always a pain for Digby: "I think it's because of the magazine."

The magazine was called The Bugle, and it was a joint venture between Barry and another history student, the other's name Digby not remembering. The Clarion published editorials mostly by overly idealistic Oxford students, with here and there excerpts and analyses, and the final pages were letters from longshoremen, assembly line workers and out-of-work carpenters indicting their penny-pinching employers.The magazine has a small print run and is usually distributed at small semi-underground gatherings every month, and its distribution is also very limited.In the latest issue, which came out not long ago, an author named "Jacob" - just "Jacob", without a last name - published an article discussing the Berlin conference, which itself was very mediocre and empty The cliché, but there is a metaphor at the end, to the effect that the detonator is ready, just waiting to be ignited.

"But those Bolshevik admirers used to call it that, didn't they?" Harry asked. "'Dark night,' 'torches,' 'red flags,' 'burn everything,' that's what they like."

Coincidentally, however, Digby continued to explain in his monotonous voice that the patrol had caught two suspicious men prowling around Whitehall last week, one was a freighter sailor and the other a plasterer. Appeared there in the middle of the night, and couldn't explain the explosives in the satchel.The two suspects were quickly handed over to MI[-], who squeezed the dates, participants and organizers of the underground gathering from them, followed by the "Horn" magazine and Brandon Morton, and then spread When it comes to Morton's social circle at Oxford, Alex, James and Digby are the first to bear the brunt.

"This is ridiculous, Alex is not a communist."

"He did go to one of those furtive 'little parties' that Barry had, didn't he?"

"He also went to the National Health Insurance debate, which doesn't mean he supports the Labor Party; he also participated in the Caritas fundraiser, which doesn't mean he is a Catholic. You don't know that Alex likes to participate in everything, just think It's just fun."

Digby shrugged. "It's no use persuading me. You have to convince five."

"That's the problem, I don't have access to people from Division Five."

Digby rolled his stubby neck like a rhino slowly surveying his surroundings: "You live with Alex now?"

Harry was stunned for a moment, but he didn't expect the sudden turn of the topic: "Yes, we rented a place together." After thinking for a while, he added needlessly, "We are roommates."

"You all have to be careful."

"What does it mean?"

"Nothing interesting, just a friendly reminder." Digby put a thick arm on Harry's shoulder, which felt like a pair of iron shackles, "wait patiently, Prudence, forgive my straight Bai, but you can't help. The Baron will settle the matter, and if he can't, there's Georges Loiseau."

Digby let go, patted Harry on the back of the head, and left.Watching him round the square of grass between the school buildings and disappearing into the shadows of the doorway, Harry had to admit that talking to Digby was a bad idea.The admiral's son may look like a dull buffalo, but he is anything but.

Harry went back to 55 Juniper Street and waited.Use the afternoon without classes to pack things in the apartment aimlessly, staring at the wall clock in a daze.Whenever there was the sound of a car passing by in the street, he jumped up and looked out the window, but no car ever stopped outside the apartment.

Until Friday afternoon, Alex lost contact with No.60 for three hours.

When the doorbell rang, Harry was doing his translation homework. In his eagerness to stand up, he bumped into the Greek dictionary that was open at hand. The dictionary triggered a chain reaction, and the precariously piled books on the writing desk fell to the floor with a clatter. Harry was annoyed. I stared at them for a moment, gave up, and went across the living room to open the door.

There was neither a postman nor Alex outside the door.Harry cleared his throat awkwardly, unsure if he should smile or remain serious, or what polite address to address.

"Good afternoon, George."

"good afternoon."

In came the eldest son of the Loiseau family, who had recently grown a beard and looked more stern with his long black coat, well pressed.He is now a brigadier general, no longer stationed in Berlin, and spends more time in London.Harry closed the door, and with a sudden sense of shame, realized for the first time how small the living room was, full of books and magazines, with last season's polo and cricket scores posted on the walls, and Kang Poster of Can dancers.The two single sofas were in mismatched designs, and there was no room to sit on them, piled high with coats, scarves and empty wine bottles.The windows were too narrow, and the limited gray light showed the dust flying in the air and the dry honeysuckle vines on the window sills.

"Mr. Brummer gave me the address. I already guessed that Alex would not like the school dormitory." George took off his gloves, stuffed them into the pocket of his windbreaker, glanced at the sundries on the sofa, and continued to stand , "Hope I didn't bother you, Mr. Prudence."

"No, not at all. Would you like tea or coffee?"

"No, thank you, I won't stay long." George walked to the bookshelf, picked up a small wooden parrot, looked at it, and put it back. "Alex didn't cause any trouble, did he? Except for the one he's caused so far." other than one."

"No, he just." Harry walked to the desk, blocking the typewriter and the messy paper, "likes parties and crowds, making friends everywhere, but who doesn't like that?"

"I don't like it," replied George, smiling when he saw Harry's expression, "Take it easy, Mr. Prudence, it was just a joke. You know Alex's friends, don't you?" "

"Partly, he has too many friends."

"Know Brandon Morton, too?"

"Yes. We called him Barry, and Alex went to Harrow with him. We used to go to the salon he had at home, the Literary Salon, in name only, but all we cared about was drinking."

"I heard that a group of pro-Soviet hooligans gathered around Mr. Morton, and Alex also participated in their seminars. Someone recognized him and made a small report to the Fifth Division."

"Who?"

"No one knows, anonymous tip."

"Alex has been there a time or two, I don't know for sure, but I'm sure he's just curious."

"You see, Mr. Prudence, MI[-] now thinks that the Soviet diplomatic corps has meddled with The Horn, using it as a signal to mobilize spies planted in Britain, and that's why they won't let my brother go so easily, plus It was even worse for him to hear rumors that the Soviets were inducing young students to defect in schools."

"This is a misunderstanding."

"It's a misunderstanding, of course, and we'll clear it up shortly." George stared at Harry, who stood stiffly, regretting he wasn't wearing a more respectable shirt. "There are other 'friends' worthy of my Notice, Mr. Prudence?"

"Should be gone."

George nodded, took out the gloves from his pocket, and put them on again: "Keep an eye on Alex for me, okay? Control his 'curiosity', he might be willing to listen to you. Compared to me, you are more like It's his brother."

Harry didn't know what to say but agreed.George shook his hand, wished him a pleasant afternoon, and left the apartment.Harry leaned on the desk, listening to the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs, the sound of a car engine starting, and the sound gradually faded away.After a long time, he turned on the desk lamp, moved his homework and dictionary aside, and picked up the books on the floor by the light.

The postman delivered a telegram the next morning, addressed to "Mr. M. Sears," probably concerning "The Kite of Agnes."Without opening it, Harry put the telegram on Alex's typewriter and hurried out to the Greek poetry seminar.The world still goes on without Alex, the Bernese mountain dog chained in the corner garden still barks at the sight of him, the path across the lawn is still slippery and slippery.The old copper stove made the classroom swelteringly hot, and the hum of people talking gave Harry a headache. He squeezed into the seat closest to the window and spent most of the morning looking out at the rowan tree, which had lost all its leaves. , The snow on the branches melted and solidified, forming translucent ice particles, which glowed moist in the belated sunlight.

tbc.