Long after Giselle had disappeared into the nurses' quarters for the night Carnac, d'Angelay and I sat smoking in my little room, trying to work out the best method of executing a traitor under the very nose of the German authorities.
The problem was to find some scheme that was reasonably fool-proof, that would not attract any attention, and would not implicate Giselle in any way. We told d'Angelay that we didn't want to get him into trouble either and therefore intended to see this through on our own, but he protested vigorously that what happened to one middle-aged doctor was of no importance and said that he wouldn't dream of missing any opportunity to annoy the Boche. He was a stout-hearted man, this doctor.
I came up against one snag. Both Carnac and d'Angelay were absolutely determined that Passy should not be shot out of hand. He was a Frenchman, they said, and must be confronted by Frenchmen and told that he had betrayed France and that his life was forfeit. They were quite adamant about this and seemed to regard it almost as a point of honour, and I saw that it would be useless to protest although of course it was bound to add considerably to the delay of the proceedings and therefore to the risk.
The doctor produced the scheme that we finally approved.
“It is very simple,” he said. “Mademoiselle will bring this man along to the hospital on some pretext or other, we shall condemn him formally and carry out the sentence and then there will be just one more body in the mortuary. We have to take some poor fellows in there every day and one more—” he shrugged his shoulders. “With luck the Boche will never know. But I feel sorry for a loyal Frenchman having to go to his last rest in the company of this swine.”
I went to bed with a dull sense of foreboding and horror.