He stood and filled her glass with more gin, then filled one for himself. Once more there were river sounds: a clanging barge, waterfowls, faintly beating oars.

"Everything was arranged," he said. "From the moment you left Amsterdam nothing was left to chance."

"And who did they think I'm working for?"

"Spangler . . . Cramer . . ."

"But I haven't even seen Spangler. And Cramer ... I think he mostly wanted to sleep with me."

She had slipped off her bracelet, and began spinning it on the table. They had still not turned on the light, but he sensed her exhaustion in the darkness.

"If they think I'm working for the Germans, then why did Ladoux want to send me to Amsterdam?"

The bracelet was like a top, a gold blue.

"Ladoux was just trying to get you here."

"And why did they want me here?"

"So I could move in. Keep you under surveillance."

"But why you?"

"Because, I'm your closest friend."

She slept for a while and he watched her from an armchair, alternately smoking and drinking. Once or twice he heard her whisper something—a name, a phrase —but he couldn't make it out. When she finally woke he was standing at the window. She didn't speak but he felt her eyes.

"You've never seen the Thames, have you?" he said.

"No."

"It's not a bad river, but it's not like the Seine. It's best at twilight or dawn, not at night."

She slipped off the bed, and drew an old coat around her shoulders. There had been a peal of distant bells, then the throb of another barge.

"Why are they sending me back to Spain?" she asked.

"Because they think you'll lead them to people there that they're interested in."

"Are you supposed to go with me?"

"Yes."

"To spy on me?"

"That's right."

"To make love to me?"

"Margaretha, listen to me. We'll go to Spain, we'll spend a few weeks in a room, I'll make my reports, and eventually they'll realize that you're innocent. That's why I took this assignment, to help you prove that . . ."

She let her coat slip off her shoulders. Even her unconscious gestures were perfect. Even alone and in the darkness, she moved like a dancer.

"But, Nicky, how can you be sure I didn't agree to work for Ladoux because I'm a German spy? How can you be sure that once we reach Spain I won't betray everyone?"

"Oh, for Godsake, Zelle, grow up. This isn't a game. It's foolish, but it's also dangerous. These people, I assure you, take themselves seriously—they're deadly serious. It's their life. Now please—"

She waved her hand at him, smiled. "Nicky, Nicky . . . I've had to play life like a game for as long as I can remember. It's how I live, how I survive. Surely you can understand that ..."