Chapter 16 Chapter Sixteen

I don't know how I have the strength to help a tall man who is nearly 185 centimeters up to the fourth floor, and it is when he puts most of his weight on me. The janitor let us in without any question in Major Portman's fierce eyes, and then went back to his hut downstairs with trepidation.I gritted my teeth and put the blond man on the sofa, only to find that my forehead was covered with sweat. The major's face was ugly, but fortunately he did not lose consciousness.Although the wound has been pressed with my long scarf, the wet marks are still expanding.I was very opposed to his insistence on not going to the hospital, and he was surprisingly tough.

"I'm going to the hospital with this injury...are you kidding me?" He tore off my scarf and threw it on the ground, then unbuttoned his uniform, "...do you know how to use the kitchen, my lord earl? I need boiling water... " I wanted to say "no", but my heart softened when I watched him frown and slowly take off his uniform: after all, this person protected me at the moment the gunshot sounded, and I have no reason to refuse out of humanitarian considerations ... I fumbled to put the kettle on the stove, and after three tries, I lit the fire.When I returned to the living room, I just saw the major had finished taking off his upper body clothes and was feeling with his hands for his invisible wound.Bright red blood was smeared all over the right back, and the finger-sized dark red hole was still oozing warm stuff.

My throat tightened; although it wasn't the first time I saw blood so close, it was still hard to look at it. The major dug gauze and a clean white shirt from the closet and tore them open. "Don't just stand there." He pulled a small dagger from his belt. "Come on." "What are you doing?" My heart skipped a beat. "Put the knife on the fire and roast it, and then help me get the bullet out!" "You're crazy!" I yelled, "You should go to the hospital for surgery! You'll get an infection!" Major Portman looked at me with contempt and disgust, as if the advice I kindly gave him was worthless: "Why, are you so timid that you dare not even touch blood?"

If it wasn't for the sake of his injury, I would have walked away without mercy. The major obviously didn't expect my verbal consent, and just took the dagger's holster off.The snow-white blade reflected cold light under the light, he raised his head, and handed over the murder weapon: "Please..." I seem to have no way out. So my fingers took over the dagger as he hoped, and my breathing became rapid.The major brought the lamp closer, turned and stretched himself on the sofa. I rolled up my sleeves, washed my hands and walked over, then took out a lighter... The man twitched as the point of the knife touched the wound, then steadied himself.I tried my best to ignore the hot blood gushing out and the slippery feeling of my fingers groping in my muscles, but I still couldn't bear the throbbing pain in my stomach;The ordeal was not limited to the injured man, even my shirt was covered in sweat.

After a few minutes or so, I felt something hard with my fingertips.I clamped it hard, moved it out little by little, and finally got out a bullet the size of a date pit. "Okay!" I panted and threw the thing on the ground, then soaked the towel with boiling water to wipe the wound clean, picked up the gauze and pressed it tightly, and tied it to the major with cloth strips layer by layer. Gripping his skin tightly.The blood flow slowed down immediately, and did not continue to ooze out. I lost all energy all of a sudden, sat down weakly, and the dagger fell to the ground with a "dang".

The major's face was pale, his lips turned purple, and there were bloodstains from the bite.His beautiful blond hair, soaked in cold sweat, clung to his forehead and cheeks.The cushions of the sofa were covered with blood, and some dripped on the carpet. My hands were also red, like a butcher who had just left the chopping board. The wounded lying there slowly opened his ice blue eyes, and smiled in a very low voice: "... Well done, Lord Earl..." I was amazed that Major Portman was still awake. His willpower was stronger than I thought.I looked at his disheveled hair and red eyes, and barely opened the corners of my mouth: "You're welcome... I suggest you calm down and sleep for a while."

He stared at me closely, with a very strange look.I'm a little baffled - if he wanted to accuse me of hurting him at this point, I'd hit him over the head with a lamp. But the major didn't speak. He moved his body carefully to make himself more comfortable, then closed his eyes and turned his face inward. I went to the kitchen to wash the blood off my hands, tore off the stained tie and threw it into the trash can, and splashed cold water on my face to cool down my hot skin.The wounded man in the living room was breathing evenly and shortly, and he seemed to be trying to get himself to sleep, but I knew it wouldn't be possible without morphine—he was just fighting the pain as best he could.

I went back to the sofa and sat down, dimmed the lamp and smoked a cigarette, quietly looking at the major's apartment.This place is a little simpler than I imagined, there are no gorgeous wallpapers and furniture inlaid with precious metals, and there are no particularly eye-catching furnishings and decorations. Clothes are hung on the back of the chair casually, half-read ones are placed under the coffee table, tea sets There are obviously no traces of use, and no trinkets or gifts can be seen... This is just an ordinary room, slightly out of balance with its owner's identity; more importantly, there are no flowers here, no such It was cut off by soft hands and carried into the room early in the morning. After careful arrangement, the flowers in the vase were placed.This is just where he lives, not his home...

Major, have you ever lived at home? I looked at my enemy. His skin was paler from the blood loss, but his muscles were still strong, and his long-term scars formed uneven shadows in the light.He should be completely defenseless at this time, as if he could be killed at any time!Maybe I just need a fruit knife in the kitchen, and I can kill him. The man who ruined my life and killed my wife and children will disappear from this world immediately... The cold air made me feel a little cold, I put on my coat, hesitated for a moment, turned around and took out a blanket from the bedroom, and gently covered him.

The major moved, but did not open his eyes. Maybe he was tired, too tired to say thank you to me.I let out a chuckle that I couldn't even detect, sat back in my seat, and curled up. Then how long it took to fall asleep, I have no idea. Slowly opening my eyes from the hazy darkness, my strongest feeling is a choking smell permeating the surroundings.I coughed a few times and got up, and saw the pale yellow morning light coming in through the curtains, and the wounded from last night was sitting across from him in his coat, smoking a cigarette in silence. I lowered my head and found that I was still covered with a blanket, which seemed to have been draped over him.

"Good morning, Major." I pushed the blanket aside and stretched out my hands and feet, which were a little numb from being curled up for too long. On the coffee table between us, there was an aspirin bottle, a pistol, and three passports—it seemed that the wounded man had been awake for a while. "Did you sleep well, Lord Earl?" His voice was hoarse, with the tiredness after a serious injury. "I should be the one asking you this, right?" I stood up and stretched my waist. "How about it? Don't you think it's still necessary to hire a real doctor?" He smiled and extinguished the cigarette in the copper ashtray with his good left hand. "It's no longer necessary." He shook his head nonchalantly, "I think I can still bear this little pain." I lowered my eyes to look at the gun in front of me, snorted mockingly, and sneered: "Oh, I hope so, otherwise I will think you are trying to hide your injury!" His face darkened. "What's the matter? Haven't you ever thought of killing me just to keep it secret?" Major Portman didn't answer my question directly. He slowly picked up the gun and pointed it straight at me: "What do you think? Your Excellency Earl." "Killing me can also solve the coercion you have received, killing two birds with one stone." "It may be too late for me to shoot now." "Completely correct." The sun was brighter, and it shone warmly into our center.A golden light framed his profile, and there was something in those deep blue eyes that I couldn't read. Eventually he dropped the gun and slipped it into his belt. "Don't challenge my patience, my lord, I admit that I almost had this thought when I just woke up." "I also think we hate each other." "Really..." There was a bit of mockery in his tone suddenly, "To be honest, my lord, when you tied me up a few days ago, I really thought maybe I should really kill you, so I was... freed! But no matter what, although you set a trap for me, you also helped me take out the bullets, and we are both settled." "Two cleans?" I thought it was amused. "And what about my wife and children? Major, do you really think we can sort this out?" He didn't speak, just turned his face away. I sat down again, and put my legs on the coffee table comfortably: "However——since you also think that we were 'lived and died together' last night, then tell me why you insisted on not going to the hospital, is it because of you Don't you want to make this a big deal?" His body seemed to move slightly, and I'm sure it wasn't caused by the throbbing pain of the wound. "Curiosity should not exceed the scope of our transaction, Lord Earl." "A German officer being shot and wounded is no small matter, and the Gestapo and the police will certainly investigate; of course, if the officer is unharmed and the case involves a personal grievance about the French, then it is insignificant The law and order case is much less serious. Is this what you intend to tell your superiors, Major? If you really want to play down the matter as I suspect, then I have to think that you actually... know The murderer's." The blond man could no longer maintain his calm appearance, and my sharp words pierced his disguise.His heavy breathing revealed inner unease. "I'm surprised you've impressed me again, my lord!" Major Portman stared at me. "Well, I'm not going to deny it. But what if you knew? What good would it do you? I I advise you to take these passports and leave immediately before they are stained with blood, and pretend you don’t know what to do.” Passport, yes, I see it.He probably knew that I was still thinking about this matter, so he reminded me: Our relationship is very delicate, and I still have to rely on him to complete the task of picking up and dropping off the British pilot; and of course he has to rely on my cooperation to escape the next investigation. I know what is called "enough is enough", and I also know what to do to leave myself a room for maneuver. I calmly put the three hard-earned things into my pockets, put on my coat, shrugged: "Okay, major. You need to rest, please forget what I just said for a while. If—ah, I mean If—you want me to give you some kind of testimony, I'd be more than happy." Major Portman did not open the door for me like a dutiful host. He watched me leave with ice blue eyes and lit his cigarette again.But when I was about to step out of this door, I heard a very low voice from behind: "thanks……" He's about to lose... The corner of my mouth curled into a smile: "You're welcome." When I got home, my absence the night before had worried my mother, Miss Doriot, and André very much.I explained that it was just a last minute decision to discuss something with a friend, but my mother didn't accept my apology. "Then you should call back, kid." There was a hint of anger in her words. "Paris is no longer a safe place, you should understand." "I'm really sorry, Mom." It's a good thing I've already replaced the car windows, and she didn't know what happened last night, otherwise it would be even more troublesome! "You have to promise to let me know where you have been at any time in the future, so that I can inform you in time if anything happens." "I assure you, ma'am." I smiled and took her arm. "If this happens again, you won't let me have a chance to eat your pie." My mother gently squeezed my hand: "Okay, it's a deal. Go and call the troupe. A young man named François called you very early today. Maybe it's important What about it!" "I'll be right there. Thanks, Mom." I had breakfast in the study, and François made sure that I hurried there too.He asked me about last night, and I briefly described the attack, then expressed my suspicions. "The person who fired the shot was probably Sergeant Heinrich Belken, and the target may have been me." I recalled the red-haired man watching from the hotel window, "I don't know whether this was the result of the major's order or His own private operation, but he has been around the area, and he's been acting suspiciously." "Do I need to investigate him?" François asked, "Louwangso also thinks that we ignored this person at the beginning, and I hope there is still time to remedy it." "Of course, let's do it as soon as possible." I nodded and changed the subject, "Didn't you say there is something important? What's the matter?" In fact, deep down in my heart, I don't want to tell my comrades that the major got hurt because of covering me. I don't know if it's because I'm afraid they might misunderstand something, or because I have other thoughts hidden in myself.I always think that the grievances between me and the major have to be resolved by ourselves in the end. This is my narrow revenge thinking, but I don't want to give up.The events of last night were bound to be much watered down in the tacit understanding of both me and the major, but I became very interested in the other participant.I have a hunch: he'll let me know more. Fortunately, François did not notice my thoughts at this moment. He leaned over to me and said in a low voice: "The planned time has changed a bit. The British arrived in Paris ahead of schedule." My muscles tightened all of a sudden: "When did you get the news?" "At about 3 o'clock in the morning yesterday, Daisy said that they had secretly left the church in Schalter. Because the Germans heard the news nearby, the priest had no way to keep them, so they had to enter Paris in advance. Now we must let them go as soon as possible. They leave France." "The passport is fine." I took out the three documents from my body, "Major Portman has been cooperative so far, but it will be very difficult to change the time." "Yes." The young man frowned, "But our temporary settlement is not very safe. If you stay in that apartment for too long, you will be suspected, and their British accent is so strong..." I feel a headache, now all "outdoor performances" in the troupe have to be approved by the police station, if you want to change the time, you will implicate many people: "How is their situation?" "It's not bad, except for one who scratched his left arm during the airborne, the other two are extremely healthy!" "I'll go see them, maybe we can coordinate." "En." My young comrade also agreed, "Then I will arrange the time." There is a small champagne club on Rue de Clavell, which has been half closed since the food supply in Paris went into trouble, and half of the rooms facing the street have become a hotel, barely surviving in a difficult situation. The dim chandelier in the foyer was already on by the time I arrived at the place around four in the afternoon.Some poorly dressed residents walked past me without paying any attention to us. I hugged the paper bag on my chest tightly, and followed Francois up to the third floor like an ordinary person visiting a friend.Dirty wall paper and wall lights both put me off, and there was a nasty musty smell all around, the place was depressing to look at, and even more unpleasant to live in for a long time. François knocked on the door of Room 304, three times slowly and three times quickly.There were two coughs from inside, and he knocked twice more. The door opened, and a rough but handsome face appeared in front of us. "Come in." The young man quickly led me into this small apartment of only about 50 square meters, and then gently closed the door. Three tall and strong men sat or stood inside, looking at me with a little doubt and vigilance. "Don't be nervous, friends." François took off his hat and introduced to me; "This is Count Chartres de Nodois, the ultimate person in charge of your escape." The expressions of the three Englishmen softened and showed friendly eyes, and I quickly recognized them: the black-haired, moustache was Corporal Charlie Wilson; the one with bandaged arms and freckles The young man was Corporal Genard Benson; the tallest, brunette man who opened the door for us was Lieutenant George Locke, the chief of the operation. "Nice to meet you, Count." The man welcomed me in French with a strong British accent, and shook my hand vigorously. His passionate black eyes almost made me think he was of Italian descent. "Me too, Lieutenant." I struggled out of the etiquette that made my palms hurt without leaving a trace, and smiled, "I came this time to see you and tell you the original plan." "Yes." He smiled, "I guess you should tell us that it is very difficult to change now, right?" What a smart guy! I tilted my head childishly and thought about it, and decided to get straight to the point: "Actually, it's not difficult, but—very, very, difficult, difficult!"