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They let themselves quietly in through the front door and stood for a moment in the lighted hall. A cheerful mumble of voices came from the dining-room. There was a pause followed by a burst of laughter which was dominated by the harsh bark of Sir Hugo Drax.
Bond's mouth twisted wryly as he led the way across the hall to the door of the dining-room. Then he fixed a cheerful smile on his face and opened the door for Gala to pass through.
Drax sat at the head of the table, festive in his plum-coloured smoking-jacket. A forkful of food, halfway to his open mouth, had stopped in mid-air as they appeared in the doorway. Unnoticed, the food slid off the fork and fell with a soft, distinct 'plep' on to the edge of the table.
Krebs had been in the act of drinking a glass of red wine and the glass, frozen against his mouth, poured a thin trickle down his chin and thence on to his brown satin tie and yellow shirt.
Dr Walter had had his back to the door and it was not until he observed the unusual behaviour of the others, the bulging eyes, the gape of the mouths, and the blood-drained faces, that he whipped his head round towards the door. His reactions, thought Bond, were slower than the others, or else his nerves were steadier. "Ach so," he said softly. "Die Engländer."
Drax was on his feet. "My dear chap," he said thickly. "My dear chap. We were really very worried. Just wondering whether to send out a search party. Few minutes ago one of the guards came in and reported there seemed to have been a cliff-fall." He came round towards them, his napkin in one hand and the fork still erect in the other.
With the movement the blood surged back into his face, which became first mottled and then its usual red. "You really might have let me know," he spoke to the girl, anger rising in his voice. "Most extraordinary behaviour."
"It was my fault," said Bond, moving forward into the room so that he could keep them all in view. "The walk was longer than I expected. I thought we might get caught by the tide so we went on to St Margaret's and had something to eat there and took a taxi. Miss Brand wanted to telephone but I thought we would be back before eight. You must put the blame on me. But please go ahead with your dinner. Perhaps I might join you for coffee and dessert. I expect Miss Brand would prefer to go to her room. She must be tired after her long day."
Bond walked deliberately round the table and took the chair next to Krebs. Those pale eyes, he noticed, after the first shock, had been fixed firmly on his plate. As Bond came up behind him he was delighted to see a large mound of Elastoplast on the crown of Krebs's head.
"Yes, go to bed, Miss Brand, I will talk to you in the morning," said Drax testily. Gala obediently left the room and Drax went to his chair and sat heavily down.
"Most remarkable those cliffs," said Bond blithely. "Quite awe-inspiring walking along wondering if they're going to choose just that moment to collapse on one. Reminded me of Russian roulette. And yet one never reads of people being killed by cliffs falling on them. The odds against getting hurt must be terrific." He paused. "By the way, what was that you were saying about a cliff-fall just now?"
There was a faint groan on Bond's right, followed by a crash of glass and china as Krebs's head fell forward on to the table.
Bond looked at him with polite curiosity.
"Walter," said Drax sharply. "Can't you see that Krebs is ill? Take the man out and put him to bed. And don't be too soft with him. The man drinks too much. Hurry up."
Walter, his face crumpled and angry, strode round the table and jerked Krebs's head out of the debris. He took him by his coat collar and hauled him to his feet and away from his chair.
"Du Scheisskerl," hissed Walter at the mottled, vacant face. "Marsch!" He turned him round and hustled him to the swing door into the pantry and rammed him through. There were muffled sounds of stumbling and cursing and then a door banged and there was silence.
"He must have had a heavy day," said Bond looking at Drax.
The big man was sweating freely. He wiped his face with a circular sweep of his napkin. "Nonsense," he said shortly. "He drinks."
The butler, erect and unperturbed by the apparition of Krebs and Walter in his pantry, brought in the coffee. Bond took some and sipped it. He waited for the pantry door to close again. Another German, he thought. He'll already have passed the news back to the barracks. Or perhaps all the team weren't involved. Perhaps there was a team within a team. And if so, did Drax know about it? His behaviour when Bond and Gala had come through the door had been inconclusive. Had part of his astonishment been affronted dignity, the shock of a vain man whose programme had been upset by a chit of a secretary? He had certainly covered up well. And all the afternoon he had been down the shaft supervising the fuelling. Bond decided to probe a little.
"How did the fuelling go?" he asked, his eyes fixed on the other man.
Drax was lighting a long cigar. He glanced up at Bond through the smoke and the flame of his match.
"Excellently." He puffed at the cigar to get it going. "Everything is ready now. The guards are out. An hour or two clearing up down there in the morning and then the site will be closed. By the way," he added. "I shall be talking Miss Brand up to London in the car tomorrow afternoon. I shall need a secretary as well as Krebs. Have you got any plans?"
"I have to go to London too," said Bond on an impulse. "I have my final report to make to the Ministry."
"Oh, really?" said Drax casually. "What about? I thought you were satisfied with the arrangements."
"Yes," said Bond non-committally.
"That's all right then," said Drax breezily. "And now if you don't mind," he got up from the table, "I've got some papers waiting for me in my study. So I'll say good-night."
"Good-night," said Bond to the already retreating back.
Bond finished his coffee and went out into the hall and up to his bedroom. It was obvious that it had been searched again. He shrugged his shoulders. There was only the leather case. Its contents would show nothing except that he had come equipped with the tools of his trade.
His Beretta in its shoulder-holster was still where he had hidden it, in the empty leather case that belonged to Tallon's night-glasses. He took the gun out and slipped it under his pillow.
He took a hot bath and used half a bottle of iodine on the cuts and bruises he could reach. Then he got into bed and turned out the light. His body hurt and he was exhausted.
For a moment he thought of Gala. He had told her to take a sleeping pill and lock her door, but otherwise not to worry about anything until the morning.
Before he emptied his mind for sleep he wondered uneasily about her trip with Drax the next day to London.
Uneasily, but not desperately. In due course many questions would have to be answered and many mysteries probed, but the basic facts seemed solid and unanswerable. This extraordinary millionaire had built this great weapon. The Ministry of Supply were pleased with it and considered it sound. The Prime Minister and Parliament thought so too. The rocket was to be fired in less than thirty-six hours under full supervision and the security arrangements were as strict as they could possibly be. Somebody, and probably several people, wanted him and the girl out of the way. Nerves were stretched down here. There was a lot of tension about. Perhaps there was jealousy. Perhaps some people actually suspected them of being saboteurs. But what would that matter so long as he and Gala kept their eyes open? Not much more than a day to go. They were right out in the open here, in May, in England, in peacetime. It was crazy to worry about a few lunatics so long as the Moonraker was out of danger.
And as for tomorrow, reflected Bond as sleep reached out for him,