I See a Dark Stranger Page #7

Good morning.

Can you tell me please where

I catch the boat to the Isle of Man?

You get the train to Preston, love...

and you change there for Fleetwood.

Do you want your bill?

Oh, yes please.

Looks like the track of a wheelchair to me.

Simple enough to trace, if it is.

Can't be many wheelchairs in Wynbridge.

Not like Bournemouth.

Red, blue and green dress...

And fawn coat.

Thanks very much.

Have you got the girl's description?

Yes I have, Sir.

She apparently spent the night before last

in a hotel in Liverpool.

Left at 6 the following day to catch a boat

to the Isle of Man.

Isle of Man?

Get onto Investigation, there.

She'd be easy enough to run to the ground

on a small island like that.

Yes, Sir.

Give me the Investigation Officer,

Isle of Man, will you.

Capt. Goodhusband, isn't it?

It is.

Good thing it's a small island.

No sense in starting before then...

you know what these things are.

Everything's laid on, old man...

all you have to do is report here.

It usually takes about an hour

before things get going.

That turning on the left,

off Strand St...

It's difficult to make a snap decision

on a question like that...

I'll ask Spanswick.

Spanswick... Marjorie's on the line

about the dance tonight...

Hold on a minute.

She wants to know whether to wear

the backless blue or the frontless white.

Really, old man!

The blue.

Say Lt. Spanswick of Home

Investigations sent you.

Spanswick favours the blue.

Then bring the bottle straight back here.

Colonel Dennington's on the blower

from Whitehall.

The devil he is!

Well put him through at once...

and bring your notebook in.

Goodbye dear... must ring off now...

business you know!

I say... I wonder what

that young upstart wants.

Some flap or other, I'll bet.

Last time he got in touch with us

was when we were at Lerwick...

To carry on about that submarine crew

that had escaped.

Behaved most unreasonably, I thought.

We caught the cook!

Well whoever was to blame, old man,

we've done nothing since we've been here.

Might be that, of course.

Hello, Sir!

Goodhusband here!

I want you to arrest a girl

of the name of Quilty.

Bridie Quilty.

She landed on the island from Fleetwood,

yesterday afternoon.

I'll give you her description.

Age 21... height 5'4"...

Hair dark brown...

Eyes blue...

Fresh complexion.

Irish accent.

Fawn coat...

Red, green or blue dress...

Got that, darling?

Corporal?

Roughly.

Oh, it may take a little longer

than that, Sir.

You can be quite sure

we'll do out best.

Right, Sir.

I'll ring you back at once.

Goodbye, Sir.

Curious man, Colonel Dennington.

Difficult to see how we can do better

than our best.

He expects us to pick up the girl

in a matter of hours.

Your experience should count, old man.

it's all very well sitting up there in

Whitehall, jabbering a lot of instructions.

They don't have to face the problems.

I suppose, the best thing to do is check up

all the hotels and boarding houses.

It would take weeks old man... especially

from a vague description like this.

There are packets of girls

on this island...

...looking like that

and talking with an Irish accent.

Not even a squint or a birthmark

to jolly things along.

Look down there for instance...

crossing the road to the Tynwald Court...

She could easily fit the description.

Right height, fawn coat, brown hair...

...typically Irish.

You meet them at every turn, old man.

This is where the laws of the

Isle of man are made, my dear.

It's the oldest parliament

in the world.

Old Johnny here's taking a photo

for the post-war guidebook.

You might be in it if you're lucky.

We don't get many young people

here these days.

They seem to prefer the pictures.

Old Tim Kelly there... he was a great one for

the pictures, until they started talking.

So now he comes here for his nap.

I hope you enjoy yourself.

There's plenty of room

in the front row, Miss.

This is fine, thank you.

You know, Miss... that seat you're

sitting in has a story attached to it.

They caught a spy in it

a few weeks back.

Hasn't been such a rumpus

in the House...

...since they put the income tax up

from two bob to half a crown.

Tim... time you were getting back

to the office.

Oh, thanks.

Don't move! Stay where you are!

Thank you!

Thank you!

"20 yards on left Rue de la Gare."

"Down steps, Cafe Antoine."

What would they be doing

with a French town on the Isle of Man?

Sure it doesn't make

any sense at all.

"4 miles north of Ramsey."

Now what in the world would

the explanation of it be?

It's behind barbed wire

and packed with the British army...

But the book says a French town.

Why?

The invasion!

Now what would they be doing here if they

weren't getting ready for the invasion?

And where would they

be getting ready?

Supposing... aye, it would all fit in...

Supposing they'd made up a town

like some town on the French coast.

And these notes of Mr Pryce's...

The advertisement on the wall...

The Rue de la Gare and the steps...

Down to the Cafe Antoine.

If the Germans had these notes,

they could tell which town this was.

And when the invasion happened...

...the Germans would be ready for them.

Waiting with all their guns,

to mow them down.

What desperate thing

are you getting into?

You're holding thousands of lives

in your hands.

British lives.

Irish lives.

It's the Book of Fate itself

you're carrying.

You'll find the register

quite in order, I'm sure...

I'm most strict.

May we cast an eye on it?

Yesterday's arrivals...

Just a routine enquiry, you know.

I don't recollect the name.

From there down.

Any single women amongst them?

18, 64 and 33.

Miss Bagget says 15 and 77 count two.

I hope this doesn't mean that someone

has escaped from the internment camp...

...and is staying in the hotel.

If the food I had here

is anything to go by...

...they've been more likely

to have escaped from the hotel...

...and beat it for the internment camp.

I say, Goodhusband...

That's the girl we saw crossing the road

to the Tynwald Court.

When did she arrive?

Yesterday afternoon.

What's her name?

Baynes.

Mrs David Baynes.

From Kings Square, South Westmead.

Mmm... married... pity!

I wonder.

There won't be a fire in the room...

I shall have to start one.

How long will it take to burn?

5 minutes... more?

Oh, hurry, lift! Hurry!...

I've all the troubles of the world

on me shoulders.

Good evening... may we come in a moment?

I say, I hope we're not frightening you.

Just a little routine check on

identity cards... a mere formality.

Do you mind?

No... of course not.

Sorry to bother you and all that.

On holiday?

Yes.

Lovely weather for it.

Red tape, you know.

Very pleasant hotel, this.

Lovely view.

Terrible grub.

Mind if I smoke?

No.

There's a dance here tonight.

Is there?

Yes... jolly affairs as a rule.

May look in myself later on.

Are you finished with that?

Staying long, Mrs Baynes?

A few days...

Will that be all?

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