“Yes. He said they’d have a better chance with me, because they would save the women and children first.”

“Just as we thought,” said Sir James.

“He said they were very important⁠—that they might make all the difference to the Allies. But, if it’s all so long ago, and the war’s over, what does it matter now?”

“I guess history repeats itself, Jane. First there was a great hue and cry over those papers, then it all died down, and now the whole caboodle’s started all over again⁠—for rather different reasons. Then you can hand them over to us right away?”

“But I can’t.”

“What?”

“I haven’t got them.”

“You⁠—haven’t⁠—got them?” Julius punctuated the words with little pauses.

“No⁠—I hid them.”

“You hid them?”

“Yes. I got uneasy. People seemed to be watching me. It scared me⁠—badly.” She put her hand to her head. “It’s almost the last thing I remember before waking up in the hospital.⁠ ⁠…”

“Go on,” said Sir James, in his quiet penetrating tones. “What do you remember?”

She turned to him obediently.

“It was at Holyhead. I came that way⁠—I don’t remember why.⁠ ⁠…”

“That doesn’t matter. Go on.”