Recovery and the Return of Ethan Hart by Stephen Benatar Page A

assume you are.” He says this in a fairly businesslike way but then he smiles. “Unless we happen to unearth some discouraging thing to the contrary.”
    â€œLike what, for instance? That I’m a natural born mimic who’s spent time in New England?”
    â€œOh, believe me, it happens! I notice, by the way, you’re not totally uninfluenced by British speech patterns.”
    This doesn’t strike me as being loaded but I do reply that, seeing it from his point of view, my claim could unquestionably be a hoax. “Nice work if you can get it.”
    â€œExactly. Oh, you’d be surprised at some of the tricks people try to pull. Also, you’d be surprised at some of the ingenuity they put into them.”
    â€œDo they, so far as you know, ever manage to get away with it?”
    â€œI doubt it. Our tests are extremely stringent. We look for very special responses.”
    â€œSuch as?”
    They both laugh.
    â€œAnd even apart from those tests,” says Herb Kramer, “one very swiftly develops a sixth sense.”
    Although I acknowledge that his answer will be meaningless: “And your sixth sense regarding me?”
    â€œThat you’re genuine. Can I ask you a somewhat personal question? You have no credit cards nor traveller’s cheques. What’s your financial situation?”
    â€œA real pain.”
    Again he laughs. “Sure thing; must be! But the reason I ask is that it’s possible for us to give you assistance in getting back to the States. We’d make contact with the Department of Health and Human Services and they, if necessary, would help you find a place to stay.”
    I like this man. He seems to come from almost the same class of human being as Tom. I like his attitude of innocent till proven guilty. I like his tact, as well: the way he doesn’t actually ask what I’m managing to live on. To say that Tom is keeping me would most likely convey a seriously misleading impression, especially to a man who, however well-disposed, is trained to be cynical. Even considering it in passing is something that makes me realize, all over again, how exceptional Tom is, and how incredibly lucky I was to have come across him. Unthinkingly, I flash him an affectionate smile, which could possibly confirm any suspicions my compatriot may have.
    Herb Kramer takes my form and scribbles down some notes. Tom gives him a couple of photographs. The vice-consul promises he will do all in his power to speed up the inquiries.
    He escorts us to the entrance (Mrs Bradley waves cheerily from a far corner and mouths the words “Good luck!”) and we leave the building in a fairly optimistic frame of mind.
    We need all the optimism we can get. There’s another day of visiting hotels ahead of us.

8
    We’d had a date for the following Sunday.
    This time it’s Matt who has to change the plan. He phones on Saturday. I run into the kitchen without taking off my wellies. They’re caked in mud. Already I can see wet lumps strewn across the tiles.
    â€œRosalind, I really am sorry. What about next Tuesday?”
    â€œNext Tuesday?”
    â€œV-E Day.”
    â€œAre you sure, Matt? I listened to the lunchtime news. They claimed it was still only rumour.”
    â€œOh, Miss Farr,” he says.
    â€œI see. Privileged information, Lootenant? A tip-off from Uncle Sam?”
    â€œA tip-off from Donald Duck. And Donald Duck tells me you’ll get Wednesday off as well.” Yes, the wireless had certainly spoken about two days’ national holiday, just hadn’t been able to say when. “He also wants you to know Walt and I will be driving down to London to be right in the thick of it—and looking for two brave girls who might be interested in joining us.”
    â€œWell, I admit, I’ve always had a very soft spot for Donald Duck.”
    â€œMust be reciprocal,” he says. “He’s got you some