Sir Basil returned on the second morning, and announced that his office was now satisfied that she was not Clara Benedix. There were, however, still indications that something was amiss, and he proceeded to question her about her movements between Paris and the Netherlands. She parried his questions for about twenty minutes before finally admitting: "To be quite frank, sir, I am not traveling for myself. I am traveling on an assignment for the French government."

"And who advised you to take this assignment?"

"Ladoux," she replied. "Captain Ladoux of the Second Bureau."

"And what is the nature of this assignment?"

"I don't think I'm . . . well, I'm not at liberty to say." She was beginning to feel her role.

"But, madame, you are currently not at liberty period." He smiled briefly in apology for his very small, and tasteless, joke.

There followed an exchange of cables: Sir Basil to Ladoux, Ladoux to Sir Basil, Dunbar to all concerned. The record, however, has very likely been sanitized, leaving only Ladoux's denial of ever having recruited her in the first place. DO NOT UNDERSTAND, he replied to Sir Basil's query. Then, in accordance with Dunbar's plan: SEND HER BACK TO SPAIN.

Sir Basil waited only three or four hours after receiving Ladoux's cable before returning to Zelle. By now it was the fourth day, and she was definitely showing the strain. Her eyes were red from weeping, and she had developed a hacking cough. She had also complained of stomach cramps, which she said were from the poor quality of the food. When Sir Basil told her she was free to leave England, providng she returned to Spain, she responded with only a nod and a half-whispered thank you.

They released her that same afternoon, returning her jewelry and luggage, then turning her out on the streets. And for as much as Scotland Yard wanted to tail her, Dunbar insisted that their agents stay away, out of concern that they might spoil Nicky Gray's approach.

So, in a way, she was his again: Sunday afternoon, November seventeen, at least for the moment, she was his again. He approached her in the foyer of the Savoy with a bouquet of roses and a story about how a friend in Special Branch had told him of her arrest. As he spoke she continued to stare at him, one hand still clutching the roses, the other limp at her side.

Try to instill an element of good cheer, Southerland had told him. Let her know that the worst is over now.