Heil Harris!

always and dragging Steed off to a secret assignation with his boss. “My dear Benson,” said Steed unhappily, “I’m tired, depressed and hardly in the mood to meet General Lawrence. Couldn’t it wait until morning?”
    “Sorry, Mr. S. but His Nibs was most particular. Fetch that young tearaway Steed, he says, and make sure that he isn’t either in tears or singing songs about Dublin when he gets here.” Benson chuckled happily. “I resign,” said Steed.
    “Rubbish, Mr. S. You’ll feel different in the morning. “Okay, but tonight I resign.”
    Benson drew up outside the Sauna Baths and Health Centre in Swiss Cottage. “Open 24 Hours a Day,” proclaimed the advertisement.
    “I’ve already told you,” said Steed. “I’ve had enough.”
    After the hot shower he stood angrily in the cold shower and then went through a system of baths that grew hotter and hotter until he felt that he would either faint or float away. Then he was packed protesting into another cold shower by three burly attendants. “I resign,” he shouted weakly. But nobody paid any attention.
    In the next room His Nibs was waiting patiently. He waited until Steed was lying on the couch and then asked him how he felt.
    “Fine,” said Steed. “Ouch!”
    “Genuine Swedish birch twigs,” said His Nibs. “These Sauna baths are a must for anyone sweating out the results of high living. You’ll feel marvellous in a few hours.”
    “Talking of high living,” said Steed, “wouldn’t you rather discuss whatever you want to discuss in the morning? It’s one o’clock...
    “No, no,” said General Lawrence.
    The burly attendant pitched in again with the birch twigs until Steed was red and tingling all over his body. Steed bit his lip and waited until somebody spoke. '
    “I gather you’re involved in this Fascist rebellion that’s going on in Swindon?” said General Lawrence.
    Steed winced. “Well — ouch — just a little. By Christ! Yes, I suppose — look, take a rest, will you? Yes, I was pottering about. Jesus!”
    “I wouldn’t bother,” he said. “It’s all rather insignificant, and I don’t want our people involved. Let the police handle it. Otherwise we might look a little silly.” He smiled loftily and waved to the burly attendant. “Lay on Macduff,” he insisted. “I don’t want it to look as if we put the whole weight of British counterespionage into service whenever a colonel goes off his rocker.”
    “No, sir, but—”
    “I know.” He gestured the attendant to pitch in. “You have a private interest in showing Colonel Hayburn what’s what. But don’t let it get out of hand, Steed. You’ve been under a strain this last few weeks. You need to look after yourself. So I’ve booked a series of treatment here for the next fortnight.”
    “Ouch. But Mrs. Peel—”
    “Don’t worry, Steed. She won’t become the dictator of Britain.”
    “I know.” Steed sat up and glared at the man with the birch twigs. “If you do that again I’ll punch you on the nose.” He turned back to General Lawrence. “Mrs. Peel is on our side, sir. I think we ought to look after her. Those people have already killed one of our best women—”
    “Rubbish. You’re going soft, Steed. Women can look after themselves. They don’t need you to protect them from anything. You’re suffering from a frustrated paternal instinct.” He drew himself up to his feet and prepared to go. “Just remember, Steed, this is no concern of ours.”
    “There are some slightly odd links with 1945. The man Harris—”
    “By the way, Steed, how are you getting on with the memoirs?”
    “I’ve given them up.” hh-8
    General Lawrence nodded to himself, waved to the wielder of the birch to continue with the punishment, and left.
    As soon as he had gone Steed threatened to kill the fellow.
     

10

“To the dungeons with him”
     
    When he reached Beriston there was a military checkpoint across the road and Steed had to draw up. The corporal who asked for his papers was an amiable youth who was following orders. He didn’t really know what papers he wanted. “What about your driving licence?” he asked.
    Steed showed his driving licence.
    “Are you on manoeuvres?”
    “You could say that, sir.” He looked up in sudden alarm. “Is this your name?”
    “Of course. John Steed. I live—”
    “Would you mind waiting here a minute?”
    The young corporal ran back into the wooden hut by the side of the road taking the passport