Traitors' Gate

On and on they trudged up the incline. Now and then they passed a flight of stone steps, either set into or hacked out of one of the side walls. Three times, in desperation, Gregory made Sabine sit down while he climbed the steps and, with all his might, strove to prize up heavy flags set in the cave's ceiling; but he might as well have been trying to lift a mountain.

The tunnel they were in now was much longer than the others and had a gradual curve to the right. At last they came to its end. It opened into another cavern, but smaller and lower ceilinged than either of those they had come upon earlier; and this had only two other tunnels leading from it.

'Take your choice!' Gregory offered with a lightness he was far from feeling. When they left the island he had decided that it was no longer any use for him to attempt to apply reasoning to the direction they took. It was now a case of the blind leading the blind. Their fate lay on the knees of the gods and either a Merciful Power would permit them to stumble on a way out or, after hours of agonized searching, sleep, more searching, hunger, more sleep, more searching, they would ultimately die of exhaustion.

'The right-hand one,' Sabine replied in a hoarse whisper.

With slow tired steps they went forward into it. The tunnel was not more than ten feet wide and eight feet high. After fifty yards it petered out in a dead end. Giving a shrug of resignation Gregory turned about. As he did so a beam of the torch swept in an arc across the floor of the cave. For a second it shone on a small white object. Swinging the beam idly back he lit up the white object again. Then he held it there. He could hardly believe his eyes. Sabine gave a sudden cry. She had seen it too. They were both staring down at a cigarette butt.

Gingerly he picked it up. It was a long butt. Whoever had smoked it had taken only a few puffs then thrown it away; and soon after it must have gone out. But it was fresh, that was the blessedly significant thing. If it had been lying on the ground there for more than a day or two it must have shown. signs of damp. It meant that quite recently someone had been standing there in the cave smoking and, if they had done that, it was as good as certain that the entrance by which they had come in and gone out must be near at hand.

Now, trembling with excitement, they began to search. There was no stairway on either side up to the low roof, and the beam of the torch, which easily reached it, showed the rugged rock ceiling to be unbroken. A moment later, as the beam swept the dead end of the cave, their hearts gave a bound. In one corner there was a small arched doorway so deeply recessed in the rock that they would never have noticed it had they not been looking for something of the kind. They ran towards it, seized its iron ring handle, turned it back and forth and pulled upon it. But the little door was of thick ancient oak, firmly set into its surround of rock, and locked.

Sabine began to hammer on it with her fists and to shout for help, but Gregory drew her back and tried to quiet her by saying, 'It's no good doing that. Even if people come down here through that door now and then, you can be certain there is no one the other side of it to hear you at this hour.'

But we must get through it! We must!' she cried hysterically. 'We might wander in these caves for days and never get so near escaping. If we don't get out this way we'll die here.'

Gregory knew that she might well prove right, and his own hopes of forcing the door were far from sanguine as he said, 'I'm going to try to blow the lock off. But for goodness sake don't count your chickens. A lock like this is a very different proposition to the flimsy sort of thing usual in modern flats, and I doubt if I'll be able to.'

From the ancient aspect of the door, he felt certain that its lock would be one of those great iron contraptions made in the middle ages; but as it was set in the wood on the far side of the door he could not even see it, or tell the position of its keyhole. His automatic was only a light one; so if the oak was more than a few inches thick the bullets might embed themselves in it without even reaching the lock and wrecking it so that its tongue could be pushed back.

After a moment he decided that the only chance lay in attempting to blow away a piece of the stone socket into which the tongue of the lock fitted. But that was going to be a tricky and dangerous operation; for the bullets would not bury themselves in the stone but ricochet off it and they, or bits of flying rock, might do him serious injury.

Handing the torch to Sabine he emptied the canvas bag of its contents; then, holding the small automatic in his right hand, he put both inside it, wrapped it round them and with his left hand held the loose ends together over his wrist. The leather bottom of the bag and thick canvas now twisted in a wedge round his fist might, he hoped, be just enough protection to stop a small bullet smashing the bones of his hand should it ricochet back on to it. Having placed Sabine where she could shine the torch on to the tongue of the lock without being in the line of danger, he held the pistol close to it and fired three times through the canvas.

There came three spurts of flame and ear-splitting reports in quick succession. As the wisp of smoke cleared they peered eagerly forward. The trick had worked. A big splinter of stone two inches thick in the middle and eight inches long had been smashed off by the bullets on the far side of the tongue of the lock. One push and the heavy door swung open.

It gave on to a narrow flight of stone steps. Without pausing to collect the oddments scattered on the floor, they ran up them and found themselves in a low vaulted chamber. At one end of it there was an altar on which burned a small lamp. With hands outstretched Sabine staggered forward, threw herself on her knees before it and began to babble incoherently.

Gregory's ideas upon religion were by no means as orthodox as hers; but he was very far from being an agnostic and, although more slowly, he too went on his knees to render thanks for a merciful deliverance.

A few minutes later she was asserting her conviction that it was having devoted one of their precious candles to the Holy Mother, at the altar down in the cavern, which had caused Her to save them, and insisting that he should get the other candles in order that they too could be lit to Her glory; so he went down to fetch them.

On his return he found that Sabine had disappeared, and he was wondering a little anxiously where she could have got to when she emerged from the shadows at the far end of the crypt. She had just explored another stairway that led upward from it, to see if she could identify the church they were in, and had recognized it at once as the great Coronation Church on the top of Buda hill.

When he remarked that in that case he was surprised that the crypt was not larger, she said that it was not the main crypt and was probably part of a much older building. They decided that the cigarette butt they had found must have been left by some visitor who had been shown the entrance to the caves by a custodian, and had decided to light up there for a few quick puffs before coming back into the church.

While Sabine was lighting the remaining candles, Gregory looked _at his watch and saw that it was just on five o'clock; so their ordeal in the caves had lasted over four hours. When she had done she said another prayer then, as she got up, turned to him with a smile:

'That's better! A quarter of an hour ago I was half dead from fatigue and terror. Now, I'm feeling a new woman. I wish I hadn't had to leave my jewels behind, and had a few more clothes on; but fortunately we have plenty of money.'

'Yes,' he agreed soberly. 'That's the one thing in our favour; and it may prove the means of our getting away in the long run. But I'm afraid you'll have to wait for a bit before you think of using any of it to buy more clothes.'

She frowned. 'Of course, it's Sunday morning, isn't it? For the moment I'd forgotten that.'

'Even if it were eleven o'clock on Monday you still wouldn't be able to go shopping.'

'Why not at some little place where I wasn't known?'

For hours he had been seeing her only in semidarkness; but now he was looking at her in the full light of six candles. He had known that she must have got dirty and untidy but he had been far from realizing her true state. Her face and hands were still blackened with smoke, her eyes were bloodshot and red rimmed, her hair was matted, her stockings were torn and her shoes were cut almost to ribbons. Apart from the fact that she was wearing a beautiful sable coat, she looked a veritable tramp.

He guessed that he must look equally grubby and villainous, as he said, 'Take a good look at me; then you can judge what you look like yourself. If you went into any shop as you are they'd immediately jump to the conclusion that you had just stolen those sables.'

'Perhaps it's as well it is Sunday, then.' She gave a quick shrug. 'Anyway, my coat is covering enough for decency; and it will serve until we are safely out of Budapest.'

Gregory sighed. 'You're taking it for granted that we will be able to get out. Don't you see that as far as our appearance goes there would be no difference between a clothes shop and a garage. At the moment we look like a gangster and his moll who have just fought their way out of a shindy in some low night dive and my filthy dinner jacket helps to create the picture. If we go anywhere in our present state and I produce a wad of money in an attempt to buy or hire a car, the people will think that we are a pair of thieves trying to make a getaway. They'll make some excuse to detain us then telephone the police.' He paused a second, then added unhappily:

'And that's not the worst. You've been wonderful, and I hate to have to say this, but it would be stupid to conceal from you what we are up against. Looking as we do, and with you in that ten thousand dollar coat, from the moment we step into the street we'll be liable to arrest on suspicion.'

Gone to Earth

Chapter 19

Sabine stared at Gregory she realized that he was right. She might be smoke begrimed and tousled, but his state was far worse. Within the past thirty-six hours he had been in two gruelling fights. Not only was his face blackened but he had several nasty cuts on it and the swelling round his left eye was now a bluish purple. Even that, and the filth on their hands and faces, would not have mattered if they had been dressed as gypsies or in shoddy old clothes. But his dinner jacket, however stained, was still a dinner jacket and, as he had said, it now made him look like a crook who had just had a beating up; while her sables, now that she appeared such a slut, positively demanded questions from the first policeman they met about how she had come by them.

'What… what are we to do then?' she stammered. 'I can't leave my coat behind.'

He raised a smile. 'No; as you've nothing else to put on you certainly can't. You'd be arrested for indecency if you did quite apart from catching your death of cold. What we have to do is to avoid any patrolling policeman like the plague until we can get under cover with someone willing to help us. Do you know anyone you could trust really trust who does not live too far from here?'

After considering for a moment, she shook her head. 'I'm afraid not. You see, my affair with Ribb didn't exactly put my stock up with my old friends. As you must have gathered for yourself the Hungarian nobility are willing enough to use the Nazis as a buffer against Russia, but they don't like them; and, although the magnates have used me at times to get concessions for Hungary, most of them look on me as in the Nazi camp.'

'Yes, I appreciate that. And, anyway, it would be the devil of a job to think up a story to explain to strangers why I am with you. It was only a forlorn hope.'

'I've got it!' She snapped her fingers. 'Count Laszlo! His palace is only a few streets away, and he is a friend of both of us. He was with you when we met again, and knows that we've known one another for years. We will tell him that I've thrown Ribb over for you and that in revenge he's got the Gestapo to trump up some charge against us. Such a situation is just the thing to tickle the little hunchback's sense of humour; and I'm sure he will do everything he can to help us get away.'

It was, on the face of it, an inspiration, but there were snags to it of which Sabine was not aware. In the first place, Gregory hoped that Count Laszlo had taken his warning and left the city the day before; in the second, the last people he was willing to risk compromising were the members of the Committee. If one of them were arrested through him, the whole pro Ally movement might be wrecked; so even if the Count was still in Budapest his palace would have been ruled out as a refuge.

Having no intention of disclosing to Sabine the truth about his secret activities, Gregory gave as an objection to her suggestion another almost equally good reason.

'I'm sure you're right in thinking Count Laszlo would play; but unfortunately we daren't go to him. Within a few hours at most now, Grauber's appeal to Berlin will have forced the Regent to tell the Hungarian police to go after us. The first thing they'll do is to search the houses of people I'm known to have gone about with while in Budapest; and Laszlo is one of them. So we'd be caught there and he would probably be clapped into jail as well.'

'But you've forgotten our trump card. Pipi was going to tell the Arrow Cross men that you and I refused to leave the palace and took an overdose rather than be driven out. By now everyone will believe we're dead. There will be no search for us, and we've nothing to fear except being taken up by the police as suspicious characters, and afterwards identified.'

He shook his head. 'You're wrong about that. Pipi's story was only to explain our non-appearance with your servants when they were finally driven out into the street. As we are supposed to have committed suicide, directly the smoke clears enough the police will go in to make a routine investigation. When they fail to find our bodies they'll know it was a trick, and assume that somehow we got out in disguise. So you see, as far as the police are concerned, we'll be very much alive again; and before long they'll be hunting high and low for us.'

'They are hardly likely to be after us yet. Couldn't we go to Laszlo's just for a wash and some fresh clothes? He might even let us have one of his cars.'

'It would be much sounder to go to someone with whom we could lie up for twenty-four hours. The fact you are feeling in such good form at the moment is due to reaction at having escaped from those terrifying caves. But after what you've been through it can't last. In an hour or two you'll be ready to do anything to get some sleep; and, frankly, I'm too done up to drive a car very far, even if we could get one.'

Sabine sighed. 'I ought to have realized that. And of course I'll be feeling the full effect of our night out before I'm much older. As a matter of fact I'd give a lot now for a good bed and unlimited time to sleep in it. The awful problem is…'

'I know,' Gregory cut her short, 'and I have one possible answer to it. It's an idea I've been nursing from the beginning; but it means going over to Pest, and I was hoping we might hit on some plan which would save us from having to cross the river, because there are always policemen on the bridges and passing quite close to one of them will be unavoidable. We'll make for Leon Levianski's.'

'Who in the world is he?

'He's a Jewish merchant a wholesale furrier who lives in the Kertesz Utcza.'

'The man you told me about on Friday? The one whose name was given you in London as a safe contact?'

'That's the chap. He said that if I got into trouble he would do his best to help me out. Of course, when it comes to the point he may change his mind, or he may be away from home. Anyway, since you have no better idea, I think we had best head for the Kertesz Utcza while the going's good. Otherwise we'll miss our chance of getting across one of the bridges while there is still some degree of darkness.'

'All right, then,' she agreed and, after a last bob to the altar, she walked quickly with him to the stairs that led up to the church.

Their hurried discussion about what they had better do had occupied only a few minutes, but getting out of the church took them considerably longer. They went from one door to' another, but found them all locked; and they had to move round the vast empty building with caution for, even when walking on tiptoe, their footsteps on the ancient stones made whispering echoes that they feared might rouse some somnolent night watchman. It was, too, getting towards the time when cleaners might arrive to prepare the church for early mass, or a priest appear to carry out some special devotion.

At length, in desperation, Sabine signed to Gregory to follow her to a low door she had noticed behind the organ. It opened at a touch and led, as she had expected, not to the street but to the vestment rooms and, farther on, to the priest's quarters.

Fearful that at any moment they might run into someone who would take them for thieves, and raise an alarm, they crept down several passages until they came to a side door. It was bolted and locked but had its key in it. Only a moment was needed to turn the key and draw the bolts, then they were out in a small courtyard.

While they were down in the crypt the first flush of dawn had come. Above them the stars were now paling in the sky and with renewed anxiety they realized that it would soon be full daylight. There was a small archway in the northwest corner of the courtyard. Hurrying through it they found themselves in a side street. They turned left and a walk of a hundred yards brought them to the square, the east side of which was dominated by the front of the church. Its great bulk shut out the growing light from the east, so the ancient square was still in semidarkness.

As they came stealthily round the corner into the dim deserted open space, a two wheeled covered cart emerged from a turning opposite. Instead of proceeding through the square, its driver pulled up in front of a stone drinking trough.

'It's a market cart,' Sabine whispered. 'If only we could get its driver to take us across the bridge.'

'Market cart?' Gregory echoed. 'But today is Sunday. There wouldn't be a market on a Sunday.'

'Not of meat or fish; but some of the stalls open for a couple of hours to sell fresh vegetables and dairy produce.' As she spoke the horse began to drink from the trough. The elderly man who was driving the cart hitched the reins to a peg, climbed down, and went into the nearby urinal.

'Now's our chance!' muttered Gregory, and on tiptoes they ran towards the cart. The horse stopped drinking and looked up but, evidently used to this early morning routine of being left there for a few minutes by its master, it did not move. Quickly and as quietly as possible Gregory gave Sabine a leg up across the backboard of the cart, and followed her over it; then they crouched down under its hood. They did not see the driver return but, while they were still striving to quiet their hurried breathing after their dash to hide in the cart, it jolted into motion.

By peering between the flapping canvas curtains hanging from the back of the hood, Sabine was able to keep a check on the direction the cart was taking. It went at a quiet pace through the long Parade Platz, ambled down the hill below the Royal Palace and along the embankment, then across the Elizabeth Bridge.

Once over the bridge the cart had served their purpose. Soon afterwards, as it turned right on its way to the Market, it was held up for a minute by an early morning tram. Seizing the opportunity, they dropped quietly over its backboard, and hurried off down the nearest side turning that led away from the river.

There were now quite a few people about and had it been any day other than Sunday there would have been many more. Even as it was, several stared in open curiosity at the hurrying couple who were clad expensively yet looked as if they had just been dragged by their hair through a coal mine. Fortunately they had only three-quarter of a mile to go and two main boulevards to cross; so they succeeded in keeping well away from major crossroads where there were police, and arrived at the furrier's in the Kertesz Utcza just as a nearby church clock was striking, six.

A few yards from the entrance to the shop, a green painted door evidently led up to the flat above. Gregory pressed the bell beside it and, having heard it ring, they waited with such patience as they could muster while casting anxious glances up and down the street. Several minutes passed and no sound came from within the building so Gregory rang again. The shrill peal hardly ceased when the door was opened.

To Gregory's relief it was Levianski himself who answered it. His dark curly hair showed no signs of rumpling, but he was clad in a blue silk dressing gown and his eyes were a little bleary; so it was clear that they had roused him from sleep. As he took in Gregory's battered face his black eyes showed sudden fear and he made to close the door; but Gregory was too quick for him. Putting his foot in it, he said:

'Please don't shut us out. I'm Commandant Tavenier. We had a long talk together at the Cafe Mignon a little over a fortnight ago.'

Levianski slowly opened the door again, and nodded. 'Yes, I recognize you from your voice. I doubt if I would have otherwise. I thought you were a gangster who had just raided one of the night clubs and stolen those beautiful sables your companion is wearing and that you had come here to try to force me to buy them.'

Gregory gave a wry grin. 'For the past half-hour that's the very thing we feared that a policeman would think, if we ran into one. But please let us come in.'

Instead of moving aside, the furrier said doubtfully, 'It is obvious that you have got yourself into serious trouble. Are the police after you?'

'No. At the moment they believe us both to be dead. In the course of an hour or two when they fail to find our bodies they will realize that we are not; but there is no possible way in which they could get any idea that we have come here.'

'Very well then.' Levianski stepped back for them to enter a narrow hall, shut the door behind them, and asked, 'What has happened that you should be in such a shocking state, and be in danger of arrest by the police?'

Gregory knew that within a few hours the story of the Arrow Cross smoke bomb attack on the Tuzolto palace would be all over Budapest, and that Levianski could hardly fail to identify Sabine as the Baroness; but he saw no point in telling the furrier more about himself than he had already, or of the parts that Ribbentrop and Grauber had played, so he said:

'The Vichy police agent here got on to me and in collaboration with the Gestapo asked the Hungarian police to pull me in. But as the Baroness Tuzolto is a very old friend of mine she used her influence with the Regent temporarily to spike the Nazis' guns, and gave me asylum in her palace. We meant to drive to the frontier last night but the Germans held up the car and tried to kidnap us. That's how I got so knocked about. Then they got the Arrow Cross boys to try their hand at flushing us out with smoke bombs; but we got away through the caves that lie under Buda hill.'

Levianski nodded. 'And what do you plan to do now?'

'We have plenty of money on us and would like to buy a car to get away in. But we didn't dare to show ourselves at a garage in our present state; and, anyway, we are pretty well deadbeat. You were good enough to offer to help me, providing I didn't have the police on my track; so I've come to you. I was hoping that you would be willing to let us stay here for the day, so that we can get some sleep. Then if you could find us some second-hand clothes we'd be able to make a fresh start with a fair chance of reaching the frontier.'

Pinching his thick lower lip between his forefinger and thumb, the short square shouldered Jew remained thoughtful for a minute, then he said, 'You seem to have got completely clear for the moment; but, all the same, to let you stay is a risk, and I have to think of my family. Please to stay here for a little, while I consult my wife.'

Having pulled out a straight-backed wooden chair from beside the hallstand for Sabine, he gave a jerky bow and hurried off up the stairs. There was no other chair, so Gregory closed his eyes and leaned against the wall. Although he had spent most of Friday night in bed, during the past forty-eight hours he had had little more than four hours' proper sleep, so he was very, very tired; and what they were to do should Levianski refuse to let them stay there he could not think.

They were not kept waiting long, and when the furrier came downstairs again he was followed by a small, plump, bright-eyed woman of about thirty. She had hastily done her black hair up into a bun and put on a Persian lamb coat over her nightdress. He introduced her as his wife, and said:

'Huldah says the more trouble there is in the world the more we should try to help people who are in trouble; so you are welcome to stay here until you are well rested and can go on your way. But in a matter such as this we dare trust no one. We must take every precaution that your presence here does not become known to our employees or the neighbours; so we wish to conceal you from our two young sons. They are only six and eight, and children of that age cannot be trusted not to blurt out secrets. They might tell one of their little schoolfellows, or the woman who comes in on weekdays to help in the kitchen.'

Gregory nodded. I fully appreciate that; and we should not in the least mind remaining hidden if when we have slept you, could bring some old clothes and cold food to us.'

'We will do that willingly; but we are worried about where to put you. In our apartment we have only four bedrooms: our own, that of the boys, that occupied by my wife's mother and one spare room.' Levianski paused and looked at Gregory. 'The attics on the third floor are all used for stock, and are visited regularly by my night watchman; so if I made you up a bed on the floor of one of them you would have to be out of it by the time he comes on duty again this evening.'

Sabine looked up at him and said with a faint smile, 'Please don't let that worry you, Mr. Levianski. As the Herr Commandant said just now, we are very old friends. Had it not been for the war we should have been married in nineteen thirty-nine. As it is, we were married very quietly two days ago; so we shall be delighted to share a room.'

Little Mrs. Levianski's eyes went round with surprise and excitement at finding herself privy to the romance of a Baroness who was being hunted by the Gestapo, and she exclaimed, 'Oh, gracious lady, how tragic for you to find yourself in such straits on your honeymoon! We must put you in our room, which is much nicer; and we will do everything we can to make you forget your troubles.'

'No, Huldah, no The more practical Leon quickly shook his head. 'We will do all we can for our guests, yes; but how could we explain having given up our room to strangers? And we must lose no time. In half an hour or so the boys will be awake and, soon after, running about the apartment. By then our guests must be in the spare room and its door locked.'

'Come then, and quietly please,' Huldah gestured towards the stairway. 'I will show you your room and the bathroom. Forgive, gracious lady, that I lead the way.'

Having followed her upstairs, with Levianski bringing up the rear, they were shown a twelve feet square room with a vast double bed in it, and not far from it a bathroom. To an offer of food they declared that they were too tired to be hungry; and, after thanking the Levianskis most warmly, they shut themselves in to get cleaned up.

Both of them would have given a great deal to luxuriate in a hot bath and it would not have been the first they had had together but to make one with the gas geyser would have taken a quarter of an hour and, from fear of being discovered by the Levianski children, they dared not linger there too long. It was, after all, only their faces and hands which were so grimy. Having had a thorough wash and combed their hair, they tiptoed across the passage to the spare bedroom.

The big bed had as its principal covering one of those square goose feather stuffed pillow eiderdowns beloved by Central Europeans. On it the Levianskis had laid out a clean suit of pyjamas and a flimsy nightdress. Sabine had already stripped. Picking up the nightdress she looked at it with a crooked smile, put it on, got into bed, and said:

'It was very kind of Mrs. Levianski to provide me with the bridal trimmings; but I'm far too tired to tease you into making me take them off.'

Gregory returned her crooked smile. 'At the moment I feel too old by a thousand years to care one way or the other,' Slipping on the pyjamas he got into the big bed beside her. and added, 'I never thought I'd break down on a honeymoon, but one lives and learns.'

She sighed. 'I never thought I'd break down on a honeymoon either. We've had the most filthy luck so far. But we'll make up for it before we are much older.'

Five minutes later they were both in the deep sleep of utter exhaustion.

It was more than twelve hours later when they were roused by a heavy knocking on the door, and on Sabine's calling a sleepy 'Come in' Leon Levianski entered carrying a well laden tray. As he set it on the top of a chest of drawers that flanked the bedside, he said:

'I knocked on your door this afternoon when the children were out, but could get no reply. Now, Huldah has just put them to bed, and we thought you must be starving; so she first got this tray ready for me to bring up to you.'

Sabine murmured her thanks and quickly wriggled down to hide her bare shoulders under the bedclothes; but Gregory sat up and said, 'I had no idea we had slept so long. We were hoping to get out of the city tonight but it seems we have slept away the chance to make any preparations.'

Levianski shook his head. 'It would have been foolish to rush matters and so increase the likelihood of your being caught. Much better stay here till tomorrow night. By then you will be fully recovered and far more capable of making a. successful getaway.'

He was so obviously right that they did not attempt to argue the matter, but again thanked him for his most generous hospitality. With good appetites now, as soon as he had left them they set about the meal. Shuddering slightly, they covered the pickled herrings garnished with circles of onion with a plate; but the ample portions of cold goose and apricot compote washed down with a bottle of Bullsblood of Badascony tasted as good as anything they could have got at the Ritz Grill of the Donau Palata.

When they had eaten, knowing that the children were in bed they crept across to the bathroom, and enjoyed a hot bath. Then, banishing the thought of the perils they must soon face again and, living only for the moment, they spent what they later agreed to be one of the never to be forgotten nights in a lifetime.

In the morning, although Huldah Levianski did not bring along their breakfast until her two boys had gone to kindergarten, she found them fast asleep. She told them that she had sent her daily help, Rosa, out to do some shopping, so for the next hour they could use the bathroom without fear of discovery. Then she produced the morning papers and pointed out in them the accounts of the attack on the Tuzolto Palace.

The newspapers gave only a garbled version of the affair. It was stated that a rumour had got round that the Baroness had had staying in her palace the Commandant Tavenier, who had recently been received into Budapest society; and, believing him to be engaged in spreading propaganda in favour of the Allies, the Arrow Cross had given a violent demonstration of their disapproval. Many windows of the palace had been smashed by smoke bombs being thrown through them, and these had driven its inmates out into the street. The Baroness and her French friend had not been recognized; so it was believed that they must have disguised themselves before leaving in order to escape a rough handling by the young hooligans outside. No mention was made of the fight in the Arizona on Friday night, of Gregory's arrest or of the disturbance's having been inspired by the Germans. In two of the papers the accounts ended with an indignant denunciation of the Government's attitude in allowing the Arrow Cross to carry out acts of violence against private property and citizens who had not been officially accused of any crime.

From this it was clear that the police had not yet issued a 'wanted' notice of Gregory and Sabine; but they felt sure that by this time Grauber would have forced the Regent's hand, and that the omission was a trick inspired by Grauber to lull them into a false sense of security while the whole police force of Budapest was actually alerted to keep a sharp lookout for them.

When they had discussed the reports of the affair with Huldah Levianski, and given her a more detailed account of their escape than they had done on their arrival, she raised the question of clothes and offered to go out and buy everything they needed.

They made a short list, and Sabine was able to reel off her measurements from memory, but Gregory's had to be taken from his much soiled dinner jacket suit. For two suits 'off the peg', readymade underclothes, two dressing gowns, toilet articles and a cheap suitcase to pack them in, Huldah reckoned that a thousand pengoes should prove ample; and Gregory

having given her that sum she went off to shop for them while they spent a drowsy morning in bed.

Once when Gregory turned over and his body came in contact with Sabine's warm thigh, he thought for a second that he was back with Erika. Realization that he was not came as a sudden shock, but he quickly put it from his mind and dozed off again.

It was half past two before Huldah brought them their lunch, and she explained that she had had to wait until she could get rid of her two boys for the afternoon with a neighbour. While they were eating she brought in a second-hand suitcase and produced from it the purchases she had made for them. Then she said:

'Now you have clothes, Leon suggests that you should have dinner with us this evening; then I shall be able to give you a hot meal. My woman goes at six and I shall have the boys in bed by half past seven; so by eight o'clock the coast will be clear.'

'We should love to do that,' smiled Sabine, 'but isn't there a risk that one of the boys might be taken ill, or come along to you for something, and find us with you?'

'No. You must continue to be very careful about using the bathroom in the daytime, although Rosa is unlikely to come to, this end of the apartment; but it wouldn't matter if one of the children found you with us this evening. We should simply say that you were two friends we had asked in to dinner.'

When Huldah had left them they saw no point in getting up and, even without the aid of some books she had brought them, they found no difficulty at all in whiling away the afternoon most pleasantly. Soon after seven they roused from a nap and started to dress. The clothes were a long way from being the type they would have chosen for themselves, and Sabine groaned at having to put on garments in such flamboyant taste; but Gregory pointed out that being so far removed from the creations in which people were used to seeing her made it much less probable that she would be recognized when she had to go out in them.

Levianski came for them at eight and took them along to a lounge which was overfull of modern furniture showing the same flamboyant taste that his wife displayed in clothes. There he introduced them to his mother-in-law, a Mrs. Klitzberg.

She was a very fat woman of about sixty with a sallow wrinkled face and, although she was almost cringingly polite to Sabine, they could see that she did not at all approve of their presence. For that, Gregory did not blame her in the least, as it was very understandable that she should fear they would bring trouble on her daughter's family. In the hope of reassuring her a little, he remarked that now they had clothes they must not abuse the hospitality which had been so generously extended to them for a moment longer than was absolutely necessary.

Their host was pouring glasses of Baratsch for them. Looking up quickly, he said, 'I think you will have to remain here a few days yet; but it would be better if we put off discussing plans for you until after dinner.'

It was not an altogether happy meal. Huldah's anxiety to do her guests well had led her to give them too many courses and, as she and Leon refused to allow them to wait upon themselves, this resulted in the constant break up of conversation. Moreover, Mrs. Klitzberg remained covertly hostile, and Huldah persisted in calling Sabine 'gracious lady Baroness' although Sabine protested that she was now Madam Tavenier, and that she would prefer such friends as the Levianskis had proved themselves to be to call her by her Christian name., Leon alone of the three behaved naturally, and they wished that it had been possible for them to have dined with him without his womenfolk.

Soon after dinner Mrs. Klitzberg relieved them of her presence, and they tackled the subject which was uppermost in all their minds. Gregory opened the matter by asking Leon if he could buy them a reliable second-hand car.

'I could,' he replied 'but I am doubtful if you would be wise to stick to your idea of trying to reach the frontier that way. In the first place, our one serious shortage here is petrol; and it is not easy to obtain even on the black market.'

'Oh, we'd be all right for that,' Sabine assured him. 'I was given a special allowance, and have more than enough coupons.'

He shrugged his broad shoulders. 'That is not the only thing. Owing to the petrol shortage there are far fewer cars on the roads these days, and they are hardly ever used for long journeys. It seems to me that you would run a great risk of being pulled up and questioned about where you obtained your petrol. Then, if your description has been circulated, it would be all up with you.

Gregory pulled a long face. 'That hadn’t occurred to me; but I'm afraid you are right.'

'How do you propose to get across the frontier if you can get to it?' his host asked.

'We have passports; but of course we wouldn't dare to use them now. I had intended to abandon the car in a wood and that in the middle of the night we should make our way across by stealth.'

Leon shook his dark, curly head. I feared as much, and the dangers you will encounter there are a lot greater than these others I have mentioned. Have you considered, too, the terrible demands that such a journey would make on a lady. I am told by friends of mine who know about such matters that the patrols not only keep watch on the frontier but also range for several miles in depth behind it. That means that from a long way back you would have to avoid all tracks, and so be faced with a most exhausting tramp through woods or across marshes. You would not dare to use a torch and might easily lose your way. Even if you succeeded in evading the Hungarian patrols, you might run into the Yugoslavs on the other side and be turned back.'

Gregory had crossed frontiers clandestinely before; so he knew, only too well, that Leon was not exaggerating the difficulties. Had he been on his own he would have backed himself to get through; but he realized now that during the past twenty-four hours his thoughts had been too distracted by more pleasant matters for him to give due weight to the handicap that having Sabine with him must prove. The abrupt awareness of what it would entail came as a very nasty shock. Now he was seized with a sudden fear that to do as he had planned would prove next to impossible.

Journey into Trouble

Chapter 20

With a sinking feeling Gregory faced up to the gulf that lay between crossing the frontier on foot and, as they had originally intended, in a car. It would mean a whole night of desperate strain and endeavour; perhaps more, as dawn might catch them before they were across, and that would mean having to lie up for the day. For hours they would have to crawl flat on their stomachs through scrub and along ditches; and if they were spotted they would have to run for their lives to the nearest cover. Sabine had plenty of courage, but she was just not the sort of girl that Girl Guide Captains are made from. Physically she was incapable of standing up to such a gruelling ordeal. Uneasily, he admitted:

'You're right. The dice will be loaded against us. But it seems there is no alternative.'

Leon leaned forward. 'You remember our first talk at the cafe? I mentioned to you then that Eichmann had already set up an office for so called 'Jewish Emigration' in Budapest. For us Jews that is the red light. We still pray that Hungary will protect us and that there will be no great persecution here. Most of us feel this to be so much our home that we prefer to take a chance on that, rather than give up everything and face a new life abroad almost penniless. But some, who have money or relatives in foreign countries, are already leaving from fear that the Nazis will force Admiral Horthy to abandon us to them. For those who wish to go it is not easy; because in wartime the Government will grant no exit permits, except in very special cases. In consequence, those who are leaving have to do so in secret. Some of them are doing as you suggest and attempting to cross the frontier at night. But for those who are rich enough there is an easier way. They are smuggled out in the big barges that go down the Danube to Turkey.'

'By Jove!' Gregory's eyes lit up. 'Do you mean that you could arrange for us to get out like that?'

'These barge masters are rapacious. It would cost you two thousand five hundred pengoes each.'

'That is not much more than we should have to pay for a car.'

'No. If you agree then, I will see what I can do. But it will probably be several days before the people I approach would be able to find a barge that will take you, and is due to leave.'

'In that case, unless you know of anywhere else we can go, it will mean our continuing to accept your hospitality, and I feel that we have already trespassed…'

Holding up a plump hand, Leon cut him short. 'Please don't let that worry you. Huldah and I are glad to help. My mother-in-law may prove a little tiresome, but for our sakes she will not breathe a word about your being here.'

'No, no!' Huldah put in. 'I am sorry that she was not more cordial to you at dinner. But you need not have the least fear that she will be indiscreet. From tomorrow, I have arranged for my little boys to stay for some days with my sister; so it is only of my woman, Rosa, that you will still have to be careful. If it were not for her you would be able to move freely about the apartment all the time. As it is you will have to spend the days in your bedroom, and keep very quiet there; but if you can put up with that…'

They 'put up with that' without any grief or pain at all. In fact they greatly preferred it to having to sit in the lounge with' Mrs. Klitzberg, or even the kind but gushing Huldah; and, as Gregory remarked, it was almost as if they were having the Spanish peasants' honeymoon of which they had talked although it transpired that instead of a full week it lasted only five days.

Now and again thoughts of Erika drifted into Gregory's mind, but he came to dismiss them with angry resentment. He had been faithful to her for over two and a half years, and he had never remained faithful to any other woman for more than six months. Her life before he had met her had been as hectic as his own and neither of them had ever subscribed to the 'one man for one woman' Christian ethic. He was still at the height of his manly vigour and for him to have suppressed it would have been, he decided, entirely against both the laws of nature and common sense.

During those days they emerged only to use the bathroom each morning, while Huldah sent her cleaning woman off on some errand, and in the evenings for a hot meal with the family; except for once after dinner on the second night, and then they ventured down into the street. Their reason was Sabine's anxiety about her jewels and her wish to get hold of them to take with her if she could.

The risk of telephoning from the Levianskis' fiat was small, but there was just a chance that police had been installed in the Tuzolto palace and the call might be traced back; so Gregory accompanied her to a telephone kiosk some two hundred yards away. Her call was answered by Magda, who was able to assure her that the jewels were safe. But there was no possibility of getting them to her as, on the Monday morning, Pipi had lodged them at her bank, and it was certain that the bank would not let them be withdrawn again without her own signature. For her to call there herself would have been much too dangerous, and to have sent an order for their collection by anyone else might easily have led to their being traced; so she had to resign herself to leaving them behind.

However, with the large sum she had drawn in cash from her bank on the Saturday, and the considerable amount Gregory carried on him, even after paying for their transport down the Danube and their new clothes they still had over three hundred pounds between them; so they had no immediate anxieties about money.

It was on Thursday, after lunch, that Leon came to their ' room to say that he had unexpected good news for them. His friend had just let him know that the man of a Jewish couple who had planned to leave had been stricken with appendicitis; so the couple had had to cancel, leaving two places free on a barge that was sailing that night.

As they had few things to pack and there was ample room in their suitcase, it suddenly occurred to Gregory that he could, after all, take some foie gras back to England; so he asked Leon to buy for him three of the biggest tins he could find.

That evening, after dinner, they sat about rather anxiously until eleven o'clock. When at last the time came to say goodbye Sabine handed a plain envelope to Huldah and said, 'In this is a message that I am particularly anxious should reach a friend of mine tomorrow evening, when we are safely on our way. Will you please keep it and telephone it to her; but not till then.'

Actually in the envelope there was a slip of paper on which was written:

Etienne and I will never be able to repay you and Leon for your courage and kindness, but will you please buy something for your little boys with these, and 'these' were two five hundred pengo notes.

Leon took them as far as the Customs House and on a corner nearby handed them over to a small hook-nosed Jew, whom he recognized from a description that had been given him. The little man said quickly:

'It is unnecessary that we know one another's names. Just call me Ike. Please show me your money.'

Gregory produced his wallet; they exchanged a final hearty handclasp with Leon and then set off with Ike. For over half a mile they walked in silence, mostly in the shadow of tall dark warehouses and across seemingly endless railway sidings, until they came to a gate in a tall corrugated iron fence. There was a watchman on duty there, but at a word from Ike he let them through and they found themselves on the riverside near a row of towering grain elevators. Alongside the wharf lay a string of immensely long barges, at least three times the size of those in use on the Thames. A dim light was showing from the stern hatch of one of them. Following Ike, they scrambled aboard her and he called down the hatch, 'Szabo!'

A huge, untidy, hairy man lumbered up the ladder and greeted them in Hungarian. The Jew told Gregory to produce the passage money and he paid it over into the leg-of-mutton hand of the barge master. Szabo thumbed it through then peeled off notes to the value of a thousand pengoes and thrust them at Ike. With a quick grin the Jew pocketed them. Next moment, without a word, he had slipped back on to the wharf and was disappearing in the darkness.

Szabo spat and muttered in Hungarian. Sabine translated for Gregory. 'He says that little runt takes no risk and does nothing except guide passengers to the barge, yet he insists on a twenty per cent commission; and that all Jews are scum.'

'The Levianskis prove how wrong he is about that,' Gregory replied. 'But there are plenty of them like Ike, and it's his kind that gets the whole race into its troubles.'

Meanwhile Szabo had beckoned them to follow him, and led the way below to quite a big cabin. It was clean with bright chintzes as curtains and covers and a row of brilliantly polished kitchen utensils hanging in one corner over a cooking stove. In a rocking chair a fat, jolly faced woman of about forty was sitting knitting. She struggled to her feet and gave them a smile of welcome.

'This is my wife Yolande,' said Szabo, with a happy grin. 'She is the best cook on the whole Danube; so you are lucky to be travelling with us. My two hands, Dem and Zoltan, have cabins forward. They get a cut so you need not be afraid that they will split on you. Now, it is understood that we ask you no questions, but we must call you something. What shall it be?'

Again Sabine translated, and Gregory suggested, 'Joseph and Josephine.'

'So be it!' the big man nodded. 'And now a drink to a lucky voyage.'

Turning, he took a bottle of Baratsch and four glasses from a cupboard, then poured four generous rations. It was immature fiery stuff, but they drank the toast no less enthusiastically.

Their cabin was down a short passage. That too was clean, and more comfortable than they had expected. The bunks were one above the other and the springless mattresses in them much harder than the beds to which they had been accustomed; but each was quite wide enough to hold two people cuddled together, so they put the two mattresses one on top of the other in the lower bunk. As they undressed, although they had not yet sampled Yolande's cooking, they were already prepared to endorse Szabo's opinion that they were lucky to be travelling in his barge.

When they woke next morning the barge was in motion, although they would hardly have known it had it not been for the fast rippling of water against her sides. Having washed and dressed they went through to the big cabin. Yolande was there and cooked them a good breakfast of eggs and ham, but there was no tea or coffee, so they had to wash it down with light beer. She told them that there was nothing against their sitting on deck all day, except when the string of barges lay moored in a riverside town for the tug to refuel and the women of the crews to buy fresh provisions; and then they must remain under cover in case someone asked awkward questions.

When they had fed they went on deck and found big Szabo at the tiller. They had passed the large factory covered island of Cespel in the early hours of the morning, and the flattish green plain now stretched away into the distance from both banks of the wide river. Their barge was the last of three being towed by a powerful tug, and Gregory estimated that she must be doing a good six knots.

Very soon they settled into a routine more peaceful than anything that either of them had ever experienced. Day after day, and night after night, the great barge ploughed almost noiselessly through the turgid green water. The only halts were those at the larger riverside towns, in which Yolande did her shopping. The current was with them and they covered anything from a hundred to a hundred and thirty miles a day. Yolande's cooking of unpretentious dishes was as good as her husband had promised, and neither of them was ever rude or surly.

Occasionally some scent, or sight or sound, reminded Gregory of Erika, but in this new world of blissful peace, England, the War, and Erika all seemed infinitely far away. It was a little difficult to realize that he was now on his way back to them and that, sometime, he would have to put his 'love life' as for lack of a better word he decided to term it in order; but there was no hurry and no sense whatever in worrying about that yet.

On the fourth day they reached Belgrade. Gregory had contemplated leaving the barge there. He and Sabine both had passports visa'd for Yugoslavia, so a week earlier they would have met with no difficulty in catching the Orient Express and being twenty-four hours later safely in Switzerland. But the Germans were in control in Yugoslavia, so Grauber's writ ran there.

By now he would have ordered a lookout for them to be kept on every possible escape route; so, although Gregory knew it to be his duty to get back to England by the quickest possible means, he had decided that to attempt going through Yugoslavia, with the risk of riot getting home at all, was too big to be taken.

To remain in the barge all the way down to Turkey meant at least a fortnight longer, but the risk while passing through enemy held territory was almost negligible and when they did reach Turkey they would be in a neutral country; so in this case there was ample justification for a policy of hastening slowly.

Early on the morning of the 10th they came in sight of the great black rocks called the Iron Gates, which towered up on either side of the Danube and formed the frontier between Hungary and Rumania. For Gregory and Sabine this was the one real danger spot of their journey, but Szabo showed not the least uneasiness. He told them to pack all their belongings in their suitcase, then he set his crew of two to dig a hole amidships in the flat sea of grain that formed the cargo of the barge. After half an hour's hard shovelling Dem and Zoltan got down to a flooring of short wooden planks. The centre one was lifted to reveal a tiny room, no more than five feet square and four feet high. It was actually a large packing case, which had been put into position on the bottom boards of the barge before the grain was loaded into her.

Sabine and Gregory climbed down into it with their suitcase, the plank was replaced, and eight feet of grain shovelled back on top of them. Their prison was unlit, only just large enough for them to sit side by side, and as silent as the grave. Their only danger of discovery lay in one of the customs officers striking the top of the little wood walled room while he searched for contraband with his plunging rod; but the area of grain was so great compared with the surface of their roof, that this was very unlikely.

All the same, they spent an anxious and extremely uncomfortable four hours. It was dark as pitch, and soon very stuffy, towards the end the air was almost unbreathable and they both had splitting headaches. Had either of them been alone he or she would have suffered from appalling claustrophobia. Even as it was they found difficulty in keeping out of their minds nightmare thoughts that Szabo and his crew might be arrested, which could lead to their dying from suffocation before they were found. It was with infinite relief that round about midday they heard the rasp of shovels above them, and soon afterwards were pulled up by willing hands, half fainting, into the fresh air.

Once more they settled down to lazy untroubled days in the September sunshine. On the 15th they left the Danube at Cernavoda for the canal which enters the Black Sea at Mamaia, a few miles above the great Rumanian port of Constanta. There they again had to suffer a few hours' imprisonment in the big packing case while the Customs cleared the barges to proceed to Turkey, but it was such a routine business that the search was only perfunctory.

On the last three days of the journey the barge lost its charm for them. There were no longer pretty villages, wooded hills or lush water meadows with cattle peacefully grazing to be seen on either hand. Instead the stalwart tug drew the great lumbering barges through choppy seas, driven spray made the deck untenable, and meals were no longer a joy to which to look forward.

Mentally as well as physically they both came gradually to realize that, without knowing it, they had been driven out of paradise. They were now only a day or two from Istanbul, and what was to happen then? Gregory had said nothing to Sabine about his future plans, and she was beginning to wonder anxiously what he meant to do about her. For his part, he needed no telling that Istanbul was no more than two days by air from London and in his mind London was now synonymous with Erika.

He did not blame himself for his affaire with Sabine." Seeing the people they were and the way in which events had marched, it was hardly possible for them not to have become lovers. And, for a love affaire she was everything that any man could desire. But he certainly did not want her as a permanency.

Erika was the only woman he had ever wanted as a permanency; and he still wanted her that way. They had long since decided that when the war was over and she could get a, divorce from Von Osterberg they would marry. Owing to Sir Pellinore's generosity they had already tentatively begun to look for a house in the country in which to settle down. Nothing must be allowed to interfere with that.

He felt reasonably confident that if Erika had to be told about Sabine she would be broadminded enough not to hold his lapse against him; but he had no intention of letting her know anything about it that could be avoided. In his view, people who unnecessarily gave pain to others, supposedly beloved by them, by pouring out mawkish confessions were guilty of the most cowardly self-indulgence. But Erika was certainly not the woman to countenance his having an intimate friendship with another woman. So something must be done about Sabine; and that 'something' could not be delayed much longer.

It was on the evening of the 18th, when they were actually entering Turkish waters, that he said to her, This has been a wonderful fortnight, and I'm sure we were right not to mar it by talking about the future. But you must have thought about it quite a bit, and we'll be in tomorrow morning. When we get ashore, what do you intend to do?'

Her dark eyes widened in surprise. 'What an extraordinary question! Naturally, I shall remain with you.'

'Of course for the time being.' He endeavoured to keep his voice casual. 'But unfortunately I have to return to England and as quickly as I can.'

She shrugged. 'Then you must take me with you.'

'That would be far from easy. You seem to forget that, as far as the British authorities are concerned, you are an enemy alien.'

For a moment Sabine considered, then her full red lips broke into a smile. 'There is one way we could easily get over that if you cared to take it. You have only to marry me and automatically I shall acquire British citizenship.'

Gregory hoped that his face did not show his mental reaction to her suggestion. He was deeply attached to her and ready to go a very long way to spare her feelings; but, even had there been no question of Erika, he would certainly not have been prepared to pay the price of marriage for what, before the war, neither of them would have thought of as more than three weeks' lovely fun.

'Thanks for the implied compliment that you'd have me for keeps,' he smiled. 'But I fear it can't be done. You must know from the past that I'm not a marrying type of man.'

Next moment he could have bitten out his tongue. She had given him the perfect opening to reply, 'I'm sorry, my dear, but I am married already or as good as.' He could then have explained his position to her and, although she might have been upset, she would have had no alternative but to accept it. As it was, he had now made it more difficult than ever to let her know that he had another mistress for whom he felt far more deeply than he did for her.

In blissful ignorance of his thoughts, she said, 'No; I was only drawing a bow at a venture. I didn't suppose you would want to marry. But if you mean to return to England you must take me with you.'

He made a wry grimace. 'It's all very well to say that. Naturally I should like to; but I don't see how it is to be done.'

'You'll find a way. You've got to! 'Her voice suddenly became intensely earnest. 'You can't leave me here in Turkey. If I had been able to bring my jewels out of Hungary and sell them, at least I'd be independent. But I'm not. I've only enough money to last me for a month or two, and no means of getting any more till the war is over. I've earned my living before, and I can do it again. I don't mind that. But I must have some background some security in case I am ill or get into difficulties. You say you love me; the least you can do is to provide that.'

'I'm most anxious to,' he replied; and he meant it. 'Fortunately I'm quite well off, and have ways in which I could get money to you wherever you are; but it is only fair to tell you that if I could get you back to England we wouldn't be able to live together. I am a serving officer, and it is certain that I shall be sent abroad again.'

She sighed. 'This bloody war! How damnable it is that the quarrels of governments should interfere with people’s private lives. Still, we can't alter that; and I have to face the fact that I am now an outlaw from Hitler's Europe. Italy, France, Austria, in all of which I could have made a life with friends, are barred to me. I've never been to the United States or Scandinavia, so know no one in those countries. Where else can I go but England? Even if you have to be away a lot I'd still be in touch with you. And there is dear old Sir Pellinore. I feel sure that as an old friend of my father's he would act as a sort, of guardian to me.'

For a moment Gregory had an awful vision of Sir Pellinore's sending Sabine up to live at Gwaine Meads with Erika. That would put the cat among the pigeons with a vengeance. Swiftly banishing that shattering thought, he said:

'I'm sure he would do everything possible for you; but you'll find life in London pretty grim these days, what with the blackout, air raids, and everything rationed to a point where it is next to impossible to get a good meal or nylons. And we can't ignore the fact that as you are an enemy alien you would be liable to be interned.'

'I can't think that I should be,' she gave a quick shrug. 'After all, I am a refugee from Nazi persecution. There are hundreds of thousands of them in Britain and I gather that only a very small percentage are kept behind barbed wire. Owing to the highly secret missions you are sent on, you must be in touch with people who could arrange matters. You would only have to vouch for me and everything would be all right. As for wartime conditions, the air raids on London can't be anything like as bad as those I've been used to in Berlin, and I'd manage to put up with the other inconveniences.'

Gregory's suggestion about internment had been only a last ditch argument. He knew well enough that Sir Pellinore could save her from that, and he felt himself to be playing a mean part in opposing her going to England. All along he had realized that it was the logical solution to her future, and he had only hoped against hope that she might produce some other plan for herself when they reached Turkey. That she had not threatened to provide some very nasty headaches for him when they got to London, but that was little enough to set. against the fact that by getting him out of prison she had saved him from Grauber and, as a result of that had herself been driven into exile. The very least he could do was to assist her to the best of his ability to establish herself in whichever country she chose to live for the remainder of the war. As that was England he must rely on skilful handling of the situation to prevent her meeting Erika; and as Erika rarely came to London that should not prove very difficult. Old Pellinore, if put in the picture at once, could be trusted to neutralize the only real danger ground, Carlton House Terrace, by giving orders that when one of them was there he was always 'out' to the other.

Seeing that he must accept a responsibility that for some time he had regarded as almost inevitable, Gregory did so with a good grace. He told Sabine that he had given her the blackest side of the picture only because he was not one hundred per cent certain that he would be able to get a clearance for her with the Enemy Aliens Department, and did not want her to be disappointed if he could see little of her, or miserable in a London that, compared to Budapest, had been reduced by war to such dreary straits. Then he spent the last hour before he went to sleep in considering how he could best get her back to England with him.

Next morning they woke to find the barge tied up to a wharf, and learned that she had docked near the goods yard at Haidar Pacha, on the Scutari side of the Bosphorus. As they wished to leave Turkey openly and entering it clandestinely would have made that more difficult having taken warm leave of the Szabos they went ashore and surrendered themselves to the Dock Police, who took them to the Immigration Officer.

Gregory had his fake French passport as Commandant Tavenier, and Mario's Italian passport, while Sabine had her own as a Hungarian national; but now that they were in a neutral country he had decided against using any of these. He declared himself a British subject and, in order that their cases should be dealt with as one, continued the fiction that Sabine was his wife.

At his request he was allowed to telephone to the British consulate, but could get no further than a minor official who proved anything but helpful, and would promise only that someone should be sent to take particulars of them some time during the day. That, since the Immigration Authorities would not release them until fully satisfied, meant that they would be held in the detention block for at least twenty-four hours, and Gregory had no intention of kicking his heels there that long.

As he had plenty of money he was able to make the interpreter a handsome present to arrange for a long-distance call to be put through for him to the British Ambassador in Ankara. There was a considerable delay and the call was taken by a secretary; but Gregory gambled on the Ambassador's knowing Sir Pellinore, at least by name, and said that he had a personal message from him for His Excellency. The trick worked, and Sir Hugh Knatchbull-Hugesson was brought to the line.

To him, in guarded terms, Gregory explained his situation, and requested His Excellency to telephone the Consul General, Istanbul, ordering him to give immediate aid, including the despatch of a Most Secret cypher telegram to London.

For the next few minutes there came over the wire a spate of questions about Sir Pellinore's appearance, background and habits; then, when the Ambassador had assured himself that Gregory really did know the elderly baronet personally, he agreed to do as he had been asked.

A little before midday a young man who appeared to be of Turkish extraction arrived from the British Consulate and accepted responsibility for them. When the formalities were completed he took them to a motor launch, and so across to the European side of the Bosphorus. On their way they had a lovely view of the Sultan Ahmed Mosque, Aya Sophia and the vast rambling old Palace set in the Seraglio Gardens. Then the launch turned into the Golden Horn and landed them at the steps below Pera. Half an hour later they were closeted with the Consul General.

Having received his instructions from the Ambassador, the Consul General asked no questions; but he put in hand for both of them documents which would enable them to leave Turkey, ordered seats to be obtained for them as early as possible on a plane going to Cyprus, and enquired about the secret cypher signal that Gregory wished to send.

He had already thought it out very carefully, so wrote it down without hesitation. It was addressed to Sir Pellinore, care of the Foreign Office, and ran:

Mission one hundred per cent successful Stop Proceeding Cyprus immediately accompanied by representative carrying full terms Stop Please expedite air passage Cyprus London for self and bearer of Hungarian Passport No. 476010 as matter of urgency Stop

In that way he avoided having to give any lengthy explanation about Sabine, yet ensured that on the production of her own passport the Military authorities in Cyprus would make no difficulties about her accompanying him to London.

After changing some money with the Consul and thanking him for his assistance, they took a taxi to the Pera Palace, arriving at the famous hotel just in time for a late lunch. Although it was a Saturday afternoon, as the Mahomedan Sabbath is on a Friday all the shops were open; so after they had unpacked their few belongings they were able to go on a shopping expedition down the Gran' Rue and buy themselves some more suitable clothes. In the evening the Consul General's secretary telephoned to say that seats had been booked for them in a Turkish air liner that was leaving for Cyprus on Monday morning.

There had been no wireless on the barge and during the time they were in her such news as they had received of the war had been garbled and scanty; the only reliable item of interest was that two nights after they left Budapest the Hungarian capital had suffered its first air raid, although only a light one, from a few Soviet bombers. Having reached neutral territory, where unprejudiced accounts were available, Gregory had naturally taken the earliest opportunity to find out what had been going, on, and during the day he had brought himself up to date.

The best news was that early in the month Rommel had launched an all-out attempt to penetrate to the Nile Delta, and that he had been repulsed with heavy losses by the new commander of the Eighth Army, General Sir Bernard Montgomery. But the British were still very much on the defensive, the Mediterranean was now an Axis lake, and the half-starved garrison of Malta continued, under almost non-stop bombing, to hold out only by the skin of its teeth.

The Japs had launched a powerful offensive in New Guinea, but the Australians there were showing their great fighting qualities and General Blarney had declared himself confident that they would be able to hold Port Moresby.

In Madagascar there had been indications that the Vichy French intended to sell out to the Japs, just as they had done in Indochina; so, in order to ensure against the great island's becoming an Axis base, Empire troops had recently landed there and taken over the whole of it.

During the first seventeen days of the month the R.A.F. had carried out no less than nine heavy raids on Germany, inflicting terrible damage on Bremen, Saarbrucken, Frankfurt Düsseldorf and Essen, reducing the centres of all of them to flaming ruins.

Stalingrad still miraculously held out. Over a fortnight before, Von Bock had reached the Volga to the north of the city and during the past few days he had been making desperate efforts to reach it to the south. The Russians claimed that the Germans had already lost a million men in their endeavours to take the city, but their assault showed no signs of slackening. Yet the Russian defence was equally determined and it looked now as if there were a chance that they might be able to hold on until winter brought the German offensive to a standstill.

Gregory knew that it was now too late in the year to undertake the Anglo-American landing on the Continent for which the Hungarians had stipulated; but in another month or so the first snow would be falling in Russia. If Stalingrad could be held till then the Army defending it would get a respite until the late spring. That gave six months in which to conclude a secret treaty with the Hungarians and prepare a cross Channel assault. It could be launched before conditions in Russia permitted the Germans to resume their offensive, Hungary brought over to the Allies and the whole position saved

The thought that, after all, his mission might lead to such magnificent results made him suddenly eager to get home.

Sunday they spent sightseeing, and went to bed wishing that they could spend more time in the fascinating city of the Sultans which, as Constantinople, and earlier Byzantium, had played so great a part in history. On Monday they flew down across Asiatic Turkey, landing in Cyprus in the late afternoon; but to Gregory's annoyance he learned that the Office of the Director of Transport had received no instructions about them.

From Cyprus the only means of proceeding to England was by R.A.F. aircraft, and places were so limited that many officers who had only a low priority had been waiting there for passages for several weeks. As Gregory had no official status he could not even get their names on the list; so he decided to see the Director in the morning and ask for another Most Secret cypher telegram to be sent. To his relief that proved unnecessary. During the night a signal came through from the Air Ministry giving them a sufficiently high priority to get them on an aircraft leaving on the 23rd.

Their flight over the Mediterranean was both dangerous and extremely uncomfortable. They were packed like sardines into the bomb bay of the aircraft, unable to see anything and scarcely able to move. For the greater part of the way the plane flew very high to avoid the attention of the enemy in those Axis dominated skies. That necessitated using oxygen masks and the discomfort seemed only a little less endurable than the violent acrobatics of the aircraft to escape attack when she came down at Malta to refuel.

As there was not half a loaf to be spared in the besieged island they had brought food with them, and while they ate it they watched an air battle almost above their heads. When the Luftwaffe squadron had been driven off they resumed their journey and after further hours of torture reached Gibraltar. There they got six hours of desperately needed sleep; then they were on their way again, still a prey to cramp and claustrophobia, as the aircraft carried them far out over the Atlantic before curving in across south-western England to land them at Hurn in Hampshire.

Stiff and bleary-eyed they staggered from their prison to find that it was nine o'clock in the morning and that a Mr. Davis had been sent down overnight to meet them. Taking Gregory aside he explained that he was an official of M.I.5, and that as an enemy alien was being brought into England he had been instructed to attend to all formalities, then take them up to London.

A wash and breakfast revived them a little, then they set off with Mr. Davis in his car. For most of the way they slept, and the worst effects of their nightmare journey had passed off when, shortly before one o'clock, their escort put them down outside Sir Pellinore's mansion in Carlton House Terrace.

The door was answered by an elderly parlour maid whom Gregory had not seen before; but she said that Sir Pellinore was expecting him and took them straight up to the library. The white-haired Baronet' was seated behind his big desk. As Sabine walked into the room his bright blue eyes opened wide with surprise. Coining quickly to his feet, he smiled over her head at Gregory, and boomed:

'Delighted to see you back, dear boy. Delighted. But I er I thought you were bringin' with you an Hungarian gentleman.'

'Surely you remember me?' Sabine smiled up at him.

'Why, bless my soul!' He stretched out a leg-of-mutton hand to her. 'You're my old friend Szenty's gel. Got mixed up with that scoundrel Gavin Fortescue in 1936, and Gregory, here, pulled you out. Of course I remember you.'

'I'm afraid I deceived you in my wire,' Gregory intervened quickly, with the object of tipping Sir Pellinore off that he did not wish to discuss his mission in front of Sabine. 'My reason for bringing Sabine with me was not the one that I gave. It's quite another story. Incidentally she has been married since you last met her, and is now the Baroness Tuzolto.'

'Well, well! No matter! I'm delighted to see you both. We'll have a glass of wine then you must tell me all about it.' Turning, Sir Pellinore took a stride towards the table on which drinks were always kept, but halted and added with a frown, 'Drat that new parlour woman! As soon as Davis telephoned me to say that you were on your way I told her to have a magnum on the ice in here by half past twelve. Suppose she is gettin' it now; but I'd best ring for her in case she's forgotten altogether.'

Returning to his desk, he pressed a bell on it, then resumed his seat and waved them to two elbow chairs facing him.

'Please sit down.' He smiled appreciatively at Sabine, and with a gallant gesture swept up one side of his fine cavalry moustache. 'So you're married, eh? Well, your husband's a mighty lucky feller. At least, he would be if he were here. Slipped by me for the moment that now you are in England you won't be able to get back to him until the war is over. And I fear that won't be for a year or two yet.'

With a wicked twinkle in her dark eyes, Sabine returned his smile. 'I lost my husband two years ago. for a time that made me very sad; but I decided it was just as well when Gregory turned up in Budapest again. As you know, we were in love with one another before the war. When we met again it was as though we had never parted. That was just as well too; as pretending to be married made it much easier for us to get away, and we had a lovely honeymoon on a barge all the way down the Danube.'

She had only just begun to speak when Gregory heard a faint noise behind them. A half glance over his shoulder showed him that it was the parlour maid coming in as quietly as a well trained servant should, carrying the magnum of champagne in an ice bucket. Not having heard her, Sabine was continuing her gay revelation; and, as Gregory could hardly stop her, he could only hope that the woman would not take in the full significance of what she was saying.

Next moment he saw Sir Pellinore's face suddenly become frozen. For a second he thought that he, too, was concerned about the maid's overhearing this wanton admission. The old man coughed loudly in a vain endeavour to drown Sabine's last sentence, then he half rose to his feet, his face a picture of consternation.

Swinging round, Gregory took in a tableau that made him gasp with dismay. The maid had her back turned. She had just set the heavy ice bucket down on the table. Owing to its weight she had needed both hands to carry it, so had left the door open behind her. Framed in the doorway stood Erika. Her face showed that she had heard all that Sabine had said.

Hell on the Home Front

Chapter 21

Erika, white to the lips, remained standing in the doorway, as rigid as if she had suddenly been turned to stone. Gregory, his eyes wide and his mouth a little open, sat staring at her, his mind temporarily paralysed. Sabine looked from one to the other, guessed with a woman's swift intuition that she had unexpectedly been confronted with a rival, then riveted on Gregory a gaze in which surprise was mingled with anger. Sir Pellinore was the first to recover and he stepped into the breach.

With the bluff jovial manner that had tided over many an awkward situation, he boomed at Erika, 'Come in, my dear, come in. Done your shopping, eh? Here's Gregory, just back from Hungary; and the Baroness Tuposo. Daughter of a very old friend of mine. Baroness, allow me to introduce you to the Countess von Osterberg. Erika, we were just about to have a glass of wine. Glad you're in time to join us.'

In a hard voice that Gregory scarcely recognized, Erika replied, 'Thank you, but I'd rather not. I… I came up only to let you know that I shall not be in for lunch.' Then she turned on her heel and walked swiftly away. The parlour maid, sensing that something was wrong, hurried out in her wake, closing the door behind her.

'Well, that's too bad! But a bigger share in the magnum for each of us, eh?' Sir Pellinore's determination to ride out the storm never faltered. Striding over to the table, he vented on the big bottle the intense annoyance he was concealing, by seizing it in a strangler's grip and wrenching out the cork in a single movement. As he poured the wine, Gregory joined him and took the first half full silver tankard over to Sabine.

When the Baronet had filled his own tankard he lifted it and cried, 'Bottoms up! Come on, first round straight down the hatch! Just what you both need after your tiring journey!'

Automatically they obeyed him, and swallowing the long draught of fine wine almost immediately relaxed the tension they were feeling. Having refilled their tankards he again sat down at his desk and said, 'Now then; let's hear all about your adventures.'

Suppressing all mention of his secret negotiations, Gregory, aided from time to time by Sabine, gave an account of their meeting in Budapest, and all that had followed as a result of his running into Grauber. Lunch was announced when barely a third of the story had been told and they were sitting over coffee and liqueurs by the time it was finished. When they had done, Sir Pellinore looked across at Sabine, and said:

'Gregory owes his life to you. Not a doubt about that! And as I'm fool enough to be fond of the feller, I'm grateful. Shocking luck your being kicked out, though. No remedy for it, either. Now you're goin' to be stuck here in England for the duration have you formed any views yet of what you'd, like to do with yourself?'

'I gathered from Gregory that there was some danger of my being interned,' she replied with a little grimace.

'No, no!' he hastened to assure her. 'You assisted a British agent to escape from the Nazis. That's quite sufficient to enable me to save you from any unpleasantness of that kind. But there's not much social life in Britain these days.'

She thanked him, and went on. 'Naturally, then, I should like to find some occupation. I am fluent in several languages' so perhaps I could get work as a translator. It is only the prospect of the first few weeks that troubles me. I know no one in London but yourself and Gregory and, er…' she shot a meaning glance at Gregory '… he has already told me that his duties will keep him too busy to look after me. I'm afraid that quite on my own I shall find everything very strange and difficult.'

'Perish the thought, m'dear!' exclaimed Sir Pellinore gallantly. 'To cast you adrift would be no way to show our gratitude. Plenty of rooms in this great barrack of a house of mine. You're welcome to stay here until you can find a nice little place of your own. No hurry about that either. And don't worry your pretty head about money. I've more than I could spend in a dozen life times.'

Sabine gave a heavy sigh accompanied by a pale smile. 'Oh, if I might do that! You have no idea what a relief it would be to feel that I need not start life all alone for a while. I shall never be able to repay you.'

'Nonsense! The debt will still be all on our side. And now after that frightful journey of yours, you must be dead beat. I'll get my housekeeper to take you up to the room she got ready for, er… Gregory's Hungarian friend. Bed's the place for you, m'dear, and twenty-four hours of it. Have a good sleep this afternoon. Dinner will be sent up to you. Then after you've had a good long night we'll talk again tomorrow. As a refugee you're entitled to some clothin' coupons. I'll have my secretary get them for you in the morning, and in the afternoon we'll go out together. Long time since I've had the fun of taking a pretty woman shoppin'.'

Desperately tired but much comforted by this concern for her wellbeing, Sabine agreed at once, and when she had been given into the care of the housekeeper the two men went up to the library. As soon as the door was closed Sir Pellinore said grumpily:

'Fine mess you've made of things!'

'Don't I know it!' Gregory muttered, flinging himself into a chair. 'But how the hell was I to know that Erika would be here?'

'You might have guessed. Knowin' you were on your way home I telephoned her yesterday to come down to meet you.'

'That was good of you; but I wish to God you hadn't.'

'And I wish that Hitler was dead in a ditch; but he isn't.'

'I wouldn't have had this happen for worlds.'

'It's your own fault. I'd have thought you were old enough to realize the wisdom of bein' off with the old love before bein' on with the new. It was downright wicked to spring this thing on poor Erika like that. If only you had tipped me off in your telegram I would never have brought her down from Gwaine Meads. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.'

'I am. But I had expected to have a little time in which to fix things decently.'

Sir Pellinore shrugged his great shoulders. 'Well, what's done's done. Perhaps to have used the surgeon's knife may prove kinder to her in the long run.' His bright blue eyes took on a new ruminative expression and he went on, T must say, though, you're a wizard with the women. It's no mean feat to have taken Ribbentrop's mistress off him. And, by jove, this Toboso girl is something. She's a stunner.'

Gregory sighed. 'Yes, as brunettes go I've never seen her equal. Still, as far as I'm concerned, she's all yours if you want her.'

'Eh! What's that? If I were your age wild horses wouldn't hold me. But I don't want to die yet. If that wench took me on she'd kill me in a fortnight. Seriously, though, d'you mean that you're not in love with her?'

'No. For the past month I've been suffering from a glorious madness; but that's all there is to it. And unless I'm much mistaken it's the same with her. She hardly kicked at all when I told her that if I did bring her to England I'd be able to see very little of her. The only real love in my life has been, and still is, Erika.'

'God bless my soul! And you've cooked your goose with her. She thinks you've thrown her over for the Trombolo gel.'

'I'm afraid so,' Gregory agreed gloomily. Then he added, 'As Sabine is going to be your guest you had better get her name right. It's Tuzolto.'

'Oh, she must stay here. No question of that; and for as long as she likes. My offer was not made because I believed her to be your new girlfriend, but because she got you out of Grauber's clutches. And, of course, because I knew her father. But what else can Erika think? Damn it, man, she heard this shameless little hussy gaily admit that you'd been honey moonin' together on the Danube.'

'I know. Erika arriving at that moment was the worst break I've had for years. Still, she has never pretended to be a saint herself, and she has a most generous nature. As soon as she gets back I mean to grovel, and…'

Sir Pellinore pulled an envelope from his pocket. 'She's not coming back. When we went down to lunch I found she had left this note for me on the table in the hall. Here, you'd better read it.'

Gregory took the single sheet of paper. On it Erika had scrawled in pencil.

I am going straight back to Gwaine Meads. Please have my things sent after me. Tell Gregory that I do not wish to see him. If he follows me I shall leave the house at once for some place where he cannot find me.

Throwing the paper down, Gregory stood up. 'Hell and damnation! She can't do this! She loves me. I'm certain of it; and I love her. Of course I shall go after her.'

'I wouldn't, if I were you.' Sir Pellinore shook his head. 'Not while she's in this state. Odds are she'll carry out her threat if you do. Poor gel's hit hard. That's clear. She'll be all right up at Gwaine Meads; but if you go chasin' her out of it she might do something rash. Don't want an inquest, do we?'

'God forbid! But I can't just leave things as they are. It would be wanton cruelty to allow her to go on believing for longer than I have to that I no longer love her.'

'You can say that in a letter. But keep it short. Just that, and that you want to throw yourself on her mercy as soon as she feels up to seein' you. Throw the ball to her. If she cares for you enough she'll come round when she's had a chance to simmer down.'

Gregory nodded. 'Better still, I'll send her a telegram. She'll get it on her arrival; and it may make tonight a little less miserable for her.'

'Good idea. Now, what about your sloeeyed Susan. Shockin' waste of a good thing; but I'm afraid you'll have to kiss her goodbye if you hope to patch matters up with Erika.'

'You're right there. I'd meant to anyway. I'll go up and break it to her after dinner. I had intended to ask you for a bed, but I'd better not stay in the house while she's here. I'll telephone Rudd that I'm back and will be sleeping at Gloucester Road.'

'That's sound. You can dine here though. Then, after you've had your showdown with that lovely piece of wickedness upstairs, if there is anything left of you we'll have a talk about your mission.'

'I may as well tell you about it now.'

Sir Pellinore held up a big hand. 'No. You are overdue for a few hours' sleep. Write out that telegram to Erika. I'll send it off and telephone Rudd. Your usual room is ready for you. Go straight to bed. I'll have you called at half past seven, in time for a bath, then we'll dine.'

When they met again Gregory was no less worried but, physically, his sleep and a hot bath had done him a lot of good. Over dinner their talk was mainly of the war, ranging in turn over the many far-flung battle fronts on which the Axis and the Allies were at death grips. Then, fortified by two glasses of Cockburn's 1912, Gregory went up to see Sabine.

He found her sitting up in bed clad in a nightdress of dark red chiffon that she had bought in Istanbul. She still had heavy shadows under her eyes as a result of their flight from Cyprus but the colour of the chiffon set off her dark beauty to perfection. On his entering the room her expression hardened, and she said abruptly:

'Well, what have you got to say?'

'Very little for myself,' he admitted, taking a chair beside her bed.

'That lovely blonde Countess is your mistress, isn't she?'

'Yes. And something more than that. We are engaged to be married as soon as she can get a divorce from her husband.'

'I seem to remember your telling me that you were not a marrying type.'

'That was true enough when we first met in 1936; but it seems the leopard can change his spots. Perhaps that's because I'm older now. Anyhow, for a long time past I've wanted to marry Erika von Osterberg, and I still do.'

'Why didn't you tell me that last night on the barge that you had someone in England?'

'I meant to. But, to be honest, I funked it. I'm afraid that I would hurt you, and I'd hoped…'

'To let me down lightly, eh?' Sabine gave him a cynical smile. 'That was most considerate of you. And now, I take it, the chicken has come home to roost. How unfortunate for you that, being uninformed of your situation, and knowing dear old Sir Pellinore to be a man of the world, I should have admitted to our having been lovers. That must have been a horrid shock to the Countess and, I fear, put an abrupt end to your engagement. Or have you made it up with her?'

'No,' Gregory replied dully. 'She has taken it very badly, and left a note in which she says she will refuse to see me.'

'Oh, my poor Gregory. I am so sorry for you.' Sabine's expression had suddenly changed and she was smiling at him.

'You… you mean that you don't mind?'

'Of course I mind. It is a terrible blow to my self-esteem that you should prefer any woman to myself. But I'll be honest about it. Love and attraction are two different things. I wasn't particularly attracted to my elderly husband; but I came to love him. On the other hand, you and I were terribly attracted to one another from the moment we met. We should count ourselves lucky that our feelings were mutual and that for two periods of several weeks we have been able to give full expression to them. It may not have been love, but we hit the high spots. That sort of thing can't last. It never does. But we've had it and should be grateful. After our talk that night on the barge, when you showed reluctance to bring me to England, I didn't suspect that there was someone else, but I did realize that we were pretty well through with one another, I dug my toes in because at the time you were my only sheet anchor. Now dear Sir Pellinore has promised to take care of me that lets you out. I'll always have a soft spot for you, but I wouldn't want you for life any more than you want me. I'm terribly sorry if I've bitched things for you with your lovely blonde. I wouldn't have done it intentionally. But she's not exactly just out of the schoolroom, is she? So unless she is a very stupid woman I expect you'll be able to talk her into forgiving you. Anyhow, I hope so.'

Gregory stood up and smiled down on her. 'My dear, you've taken a great load off my mind. I would have hated to really hurt you. Thank goodness you know enough about life to see things in their true perspective. Thank you too for everything. Whatever happens I'll always be your devoted friend. If ever you need my help in any way, you have only to let me know and you can count upon it.'

Ten minutes later he was saying to Sir Pellinore, 'I had a suspicion that her feelings for me were just about the same as mine for her; but I didn't expect that she would behave with such generosity. To let me out without a word of reproach was damn decent of her.'

The corners of Sir Pellinore's eyes wrinkled up in quizzical humour. 'I must say, dear boy, there are times when I find your still youthful conceit most refreshing. High fliers like this pretty bird may enjoy coming down now and then to peck up a hearty breakfast from the lawn. But they live among the tree tops. You need never have feared that she might pine away in loneliness for you. She has only to show her plumage to have a Duke or millionaire industrialist in tow. Now, tell me about Budapest.'

Somewhat chastened, Gregory gave an account of his stay at Nagykata with the Zapolyas, the formation of the Committee of Magnates and the final agreement to which that had led.

'Good show!' said Sir Pellinore when he had done. 'Jolly good show! That stuff you picked up from Sabine about the Nazis gamblin' everything on Stalingrad should prove very valuable. And by Jove, Gregory, you had something in your own plan! You were dead right. If we could have brought Hungary over to our side it would have saved Russia and altered the whole course of the war in our favour.'

Gregory frowned. 'You speak in the past tense. Does that mean that nothing can be done about it? I realize, of course, that landings on the Continent could not be made as late in the year as this, but if only Stalingrad holds out they would still pay us this magnificent dividend in the spring.'

'The Hungarians have stipulated for a force of fifteen divisions. There wouldn't be that number sufficiently trained to do the job.'

'Damn it all,' Gregory objected. 'It's two and a half years since Dunkirk. There has been an enormous intake during that time, armaments have been pouring out of the factories, and American forces have arrived here in their tens of thousands. If the new troops aren't capable of fighting yet they darned well ought to be. One doesn't win wars with an army that is content to sit indefinitely on its backside.'

Sir Pellinore considered for a moment, then he said, 'I take it you'll be reportin' back for duty at the War Cabinet Offices on Monday?'

'Yes, I suppose so. That is, unless Erika says I can go up to see her. Anyhow, I'll be back there early next week.'

'Then there's no reason why I shouldn't tell you what you're certain to learn in a few days' time. Within a month or so all our first line divisions will have left the country. Big show is being mounted now. Dead secret, of course; but you'll hear all about it when you get back to the War Room.'

'I don't understand. D'you mean that we really are going to do a cross Channel operation? I should have thought that by the end of October the risk of bad weather would be far too great.'

'It would; and even earlier in the year I doubt if it could have succeeded. The Americans pressed it on us, particularly General Marshall. They maintained that a full-scale invasion of the Continent was the only way to draw pressure off the Russians. Right up to July they fought tooth and nail for it. At one time it looked as if we'd have to give way to 'em at all events to the extent of seizing the Cherbourg peninsula and tryin' to hang on there through the winter. They more or less threatened that if we wouldn't play they'd go back on the agreed first principle for the grand strategy of the war the defeat of Hitler before Japan and send everything to the Pacific. That was the last thing we wanted. But our people didn't want a Continental landing either. They maintained that it would have been murder. I think they were right. The Yanks have plenty of guts, but are still children as far as modern war is concerned. We just couldn't make them understand the immense difficulties of landing great numbers of men and vast quantities of stores on enemy held beaches against heavy opposition. But, thank God, Winston managed to argue them out of it and get his own pet plan adopted. It is, with or without the consent of the French, to occupy North Africa.'

Gregory looked a little dubious. 'I don't see how that is going to give very much help to the Russians.'

'Not immediately, but it will if they can hold out till the spring. The occupation of Morocco and Algeria is only the first phase. When the Anglo-American expeditionary force has consolidated it will drive east into Tunisia. Simultaneously the Eighth Army will launch an offensive through Libya, to the west. When they've joined up Malta will be relieved and the Mediterranean once more be open to British shippin'. It's estimated that we'll gain a million tons of shippin' through no longer having to send our convoys round the Cape. Then the real squeeze on Hitler will begin. With the sea and air superiority in the Med regained, we'll be able to threaten the South of France, Corsica, Sardinia, Sicily, Italy, the Adriatic coast, and the Balkans all the way round to Turkey. He'll not dare to leave any part of that immensely long coast line unguarded. To garrison it adequately he'll be compelled to withdraw at least forty divisions and half his air force from Russia.'

'I see. Yes; it certainly is a magnificent conception. But what are the odds on our pulling it off?'

'Fifty fifty,' replied Sir Pellinore gravely. 'No more. It's an appalling gamble. If there is a leak and Hitler gets wind of our intentions he'll order his U-boat packs to intercept and make suicide attacks on our convoys on their way down. That could cost us thousands of our best troops before they even reached their first objectives. When they do land, if the French decide to resist, it'll be touch and go. Our forces will be a thousand miles from home, and with no air support except what the carriers and the one small air base at Gib. can give them. There can be no taking them off as there was at Dunkirk. If they fail to establish themselves ashore it will be a shambles.'

'Then what it really boils down to is that everything depends on the enemy's being kept in the dark about our intentions. Or at all events, as the cat can't be kept in the bag once our convoys are sighted passing through the Straits of Gib., our getting ashore before the Axis has time to take counter measures for our reception.'

'You've said it. Although after Gib. we shall naturally do our utmost to fool Hitler into believin' that we mean to land somewhere other than in French North Africa.'

That night, before going to bed, Gregory followed up his telegram to Erika with a letter. But with Sir Pellinore's advice in mind he kept it short:, simply asserting that he loved her better than anyone in the world and begging her to let him come up to see her at Gwaine Meads.

Next day he put on his uniform and went to see Colonel Jacob. Sir Pellinore had said that he should inform the Colonel about his trip to Hungary, and the Colonel showed great interest in all he had to say; but, without giving any reason for it, he told Gregory that he did not think Allied strategy for 1942-43 would permit of advantage being taken of his private negotiations with the Hungarian magnates.

On the Monday Gregory returned to the War Rooms. His colleagues there had been told that for the past two months he had been seconded for special duty and they were much too discreet to ask him any questions. So discreet were they in fact that although they brought him up to date with the situation none of them actually mentioned Torch, which was the code name that had been given to the North African expedition. All of them now knew about it, but they were not officially supposed to be in the secret of future operations; so they referred to it among themselves only obscurely.

However, in the course of the next few days, Sir Pellinore's assumption that Gregory would find himself in the picture was fully borne out. The movements of troops, air squadrons and shipping, which were all recorded in the War Room, told a story. Oblique references to this and that filled in gaps. Above all, the speculations on possible enemy reactions in certain circumstances, of highly placed visitors who had the entry to the War Room, left no room for doubt about the broad outline of the plan.

Anxiously he waited for every post, hoping to hear from Erika, but in vain. As by Wednesday he had still received no reply to his letter, he wrote again, declaring that his heart was broken and that only she could mend it by allowing him to go up and see her.

At last, on Saturday morning, Rudd brought him with his breakfast a letter addressed in her well loved writing. Eagerly he tore it open, only to suffer grievous disappointment. It ran:

From what I learned when I last saw you, I cannot believe that you have a heart worth patching up. But mine is truly broken, and with good reason. I thought that we had both long since finished sowing our wild oats, and were old enough to be faithful to one another. Anyway, I love you far too much to face a future racked with the thought that you may be secretly indulging in affaires with other women. Since there can now be no future for us I do not intend to submit to the additional pain of hearing you make excuses for your 'honeymoon on the Danube.' That it took place you cannot deny, for if you could you would already have done so. Should you come to Gwaine Meads you will drive me from it; so please at least spare me from having to make a new life among strangers. I hope in time to recover from the awful shock that was sprung upon me, and to be able to think again of the long happiness we had together. In the meantime I can do no more than wish you well.

Bitterly, he realized that he was in a cleft stick. His only chance of altering her decision lay in his seeing and talking to her, but if he attempted to she might do as she threatened and with Sir Pellinore's grim reference to 'an inquest' haunting his mind he dared not take that risk.

His decision to avoid Sabine had debarred him from visiting Carlton House Terrace or resuming his customary Sunday night suppers there; so he rang Sir Pellinore up and asked him to lunch at his Club. Wednesday was the earliest day the Baronet could manage and after the meal Gregory showed him Erika's letter. The old man was much distressed and offered to act as intermediary, but added that he was so heavily involved in matters connected with the war that he could not possibly give twenty-four hours to spending a night up at Gwaine Meads during the next ten days; so for the time being he could do no more than write to her.

Gregory gratefully accepted his offer, then enquired after the lovely cause of all the trouble. Sir Pellinore told him that Sabine was still at Carlton House Terrace, and as yet had taken no steps about finding a flat for herself; but she had got a job, in which she had started the previous Monday. Apparently she had run into a pre-war friend who had introduced her to the Chancellor at the Moldavian Embassy and, owing to her proficiency in languages, she had been taken on in the Chancellery there. As her alien status would have prevented her from working in any Government Department, and all commerce with Central Europe was at a standstill, this job in a neutral Embassy had seemed the very thing for her and she was delighted about it.

The following Monday morning Sir Pellinore rang up Gregory at the War Room to tell him that he had had a reply from Erika. But it contained no comfort for her distracted lover. She said that even if Sir Pellinore could manage a visit to Gwaine Meads during the course of the next fortnight she would not be able to bring herself to discuss the affair with him. Her mind was made up, she was doing her utmost to forget, and to reopen the matter could only cause her acute distress.

It was later that same morning, the 12th of October, that. Gregory ran into his old friend of Worcester days, emerging from the Chiefs of Staff conference room at the far end of the basement.

'Hello!' he said. 'Been called in for consultation by the mighty? You are going up in the world.'

The airman grinned. 'No, they only meet down here now at night when there's an air raid on. They've lent us their room because my little party has a global conference of its own on today. There's something rather awe inspiring in the thought that the top boys who do our stuff overseas for us all flew in yesterday from places as far apart as Cairo, Washington, Delhi and Cape Town, to meet us round the table. But it was essential that we should get all the loose ends tied up.'

By now, although no definite reference was made to Torch outside the offices of the Planners, it was generally recognized that everyone in the basement knew about it; so Gregory raised an eyebrow and replied, 'You've left things pretty late, haven't you

* Note: The Author is most averse to inventing fictitious States in his books; but the necessity for doing so in this instance will become clear as the story unfolds.

I should have thought you planning boys would have handed your stuff to the staff of the Force Commander long before this, and been working things out for landings in Norway or Burma next summer.'

His friend shrugged. 'The STRATS and the FOPS are; and at the same time are arguing the respective merits of our going into Denmark, Holland, Cherbourg, Sardinia, Sumatra, the Kra Isthmus and lots of other places. But the little party to which I belong is operational as well; so we are in it up to the neck till the last minute. From the wars of the Ancients onwards, every major operation has had to have its Cover Plan, and it's our responsibility to pull the wool over the eyes of the enemy. I don't mind telling you, it's quite a headache. We could easily make a mess of things, and if we do we'll have a hell of a lot to answer for.'

'I see. Then I don't envy that nice boss of yours. How d'you feel about your prospects?'

'It's difficult to say, because this is our first big show. I think they're pretty good. Of course, we are copying the Germans in putting out all sorts of false rumours, and everyone who's not in the show will be waving red cloaks like mad to draw the Nazi bull off in the wrong direction. But it's impossible to say if they'll fall for that. If they don't, it may lead to about the biggest disaster with which the British Army has ever met.'

Gregory nodded sympathetically. 'It must be worrying you out of your wits. Come along to the mess and have a drink. I'm sure you need one.'

Three days later he saw Sabine; but not to speak to. He had run into an old friend, a journalist who had become a war correspondent, and as neither had anything on that night they agreed to dine together at the Cafe Royal. As they sat down in the restaurant he caught sight of Sabine only a few tables away. Her escort was a tall rather flamboyant looking dark man, with a high bald forehead, flashing eyes and a bushy black moustache. On seeing Gregory she smiled and waved to him, and he waved back,

'Who is your lovely friend?' enquired the journalist.

Gregory told him, and added, 'It's really your job to know by sight everyone who matters. Does that cover the fellow she is with?'

'Oh, yes. He is Colonel Vladan Kasdar, the Moldavian Military Attaché. Not a bad chap as they go; but I wish to goodness all these neutral military attaches could be made to take a running jump and drown themselves in the Thames.'

'Why do you wish that?' Gregory asked with a laugh.

'Because they are so damn dangerous. I'm on pretty good terms with one or two people in M.I.5, and they tell me that they have the Nazi spy system taped. If one is parachuted in or lands from a U-boat, they can nab him within twenty-four hours. So all the leaks that take place are through the neutral Embassies and Legations. Of course it's their job to collect as much information as they can for their own Governments and most of the Swiss, Swedes, Turks and the rest are our very good friends. But there are black sheep in every flock, and the Nazis pay big money for the real goods.'

'I see; and they get the stuff out in the Embassy bags.'

'That's it. The bags enjoy diplomatic privilege and are still immune from censorship; so it's easy enough for chaps like Kasdar to slip a private note in for someone who is working with them in their own capital, and within a few hours its contents have been passed on to Berlin.'

Gregory looked thoughtful, then he said, 'I wonder our Government doesn't put an embargo on the bags any how for a week or so before big operations are to take place.'

'There would be one hell of a fuss if they did,' replied the journalist, 'but, all the same, I wish they would. And I have a personal interest in the matter at the moment. In your job you must know as well as I do that there's a big show pending. The northern ports are positively bursting with troops and shipping. Naturally people like myself are not told where they are off to or when; but it can't be long now because I've been told to stand by to go with them. And I don't mind taking normal risks, but I'm damned if I want to drown just because some Ruritanian type, like Kasdar, is anxious to earn a bit of extra cash to lavish on luscious little dishes of the kind he has with him now.'

The following day Gregory was not due to go on duty until the afternoon and, after breakfast, when he was straightening up the contents of a chest of drawers, he came upon the three big tins of foie gras that Levianski had got for him in Budapest. He had intended one for Sir Pellinore, one for Erika and himself, and one for the girl in S.O.E. Since his return, during most of his off duty hours, his mind had been too distraught with unhappy brooding to do anything about them; but it occurred to him now that a good way to fill in the morning would be to deliver the one for… yes, Diana was her name.

After a short wait he was shown into her office and presented his gift. She was naturally delighted, and said what a treat it would be for her stepfather, whose passion for foie gras had inspired her to suggest that Gregory should pose as a truffle merchant in Budapest. She then asked him how he had got on there.

He told her how the identity of Commandant Tavenier had unforeseeably landed him in the soup, and that he owed his escape to her private enterprise in having provided him with a safe contact in Levianski. He added that he had come, home with what he believed to be a first class coup; but unfortunately he had had all his trouble for nothing, as the Government found themselves unable to take advantage of it,

'That is hard luck!' She looked down for a moment and her long lashes veiled her eyes as she added, 'I suppose they have their hands pretty full at the moment.'

'That's about it!' he agreed, 'and I expect you have too; so I mustn't keep you.' Then, as he stood up, he said on a sudden impulse. I suppose you wouldn't care to dine with me one night?'

The expression on her small aristocratic face remained noncommittal and she replied quietly: 'That depends. Quite a lot of our men who have returned from doing jobs abroad ask me out to dinner. Many of them have been through a most appalling time, and they know that it will be only a week or two before they have to go off and risk their lives again. Some of them think that entitles them to expect me, or other girls in the office, to… er… play parlour games with them after dinner. I wish I could, because I feel terribly sorry for them. But…'

With a wry smile, Gregory checked her in my case you've no need to worry about that. I'm head over heels in love with someone already; but I've made a ghastly mess of things so I'm feeling desperately unhappy. I'm afraid it's rather a backhanded compliment to anyone so young and lovely as yourself; but I was just hoping that you might be kind enough to come out with me for a chat, and so take my mind off my worries for an evening.'

Her face immediately radiated sweetness and compassion. 'But of course I will! How beastly for you. When shall it be? I'm afraid I can't make it tonight, but tomorrow if you like.'

'Thanks,' he smiled. 'I think your heart must be the same true gold as your hair. It's very gracious of you. Anyway, war or no war, at least I can promise you a good meal, with no strings attached.' They arranged that he should call for her at her office at six o'clock, and he left her rather wondering at himself, but glad that he had followed his impulse.

He took her to the Hungaria, knowing that, however scarce steaks, ducks, and Dover soles might be, his old friend Vecchi could always be relied on to provide them with a good main course, instead of the awful made-up dishes which were all that restaurants could now offer to the majority of their customers.

As they drank their cocktails he told her how untouched by the war Budapest still remained and what a good time he had had there until he had had to go to earth in a hurry. She remarked how much her mother and stepfather had enjoyed their visits there before the war; and from that, to their mutual surprise, it emerged that her stepfather was the airman on the Joint Planning Staff with whom Gregory had been in H.M.S. Worcester. That provided them with plenty to talk about through dinner; which was a good thing in view of the unwritten law that people employed in secret war organizations should never discuss war activities in public places.

After dinner they danced twice, then fell a little silent. During a pause longer than usual Diana powdered her aquiline nose which with her oval face and good forehead made her look like a small edition of Queen Marie Antoinette snapped her compact shut, and said:

'Now, tell me about this mess that you've got into with your girlfriend.'

He shook his head. 'I didn't take you out to bore you with my troubles.'

She had been chain-smoking American cigarettes, and lit another. 'Don't if you would rather not. But for some reason people who are older than I am often seem to find it helps to talk over their problems with me. I suppose that's really only because they have got it off their chests; but, anyway, I'm a good listener.'

'Be it on your own head, then,' Gregory smiled, and for the next twenty minutes she interrupted now and then only to ask him to give her a fuller picture of the backgrounds of Erika, Sabine and himself.

When he had done, she said, 'I think you were an awful fool not to have followed her to the country right away.'

'As I've told you, I was terrified of her going off on her own and doing something desperate.'

'I don't believe she would have for a moment. She's not a little thing just out of a convent, or a neurotic. You say she stood up to beatings by the Gestapo, and risked her life with you many times in Germany. Women who have the courage to do that never commit suicide. The worst that could happen is that she would run out on you. But what does that matter? In your position you could get the Special Branch to trace her for you within a couple of days. Then you could go after her again. And if need be keep on chasing her until she does forgive you. That is the way to convince a woman that you really love her. How can she be expected to believe you do while you just sit here in London doing nothing about it?'

'I suppose there is something in that,' Gregory murmured a shade doubtfully.

'Something!' Diana repeated, looking at him from under her long lashes with a suggestion of contempt. 'Everything! Why,. the poor woman doesn't even know yet that you didn't just go off the rails for fun, but got yourself into a position where you practically had to sleep with this Hungarian girl. Your Erika is a woman of the world, and if she has played tag with the Gestapo she must know that there are times when secret agents of both sexes have to do that sort of thing to save their lives. If she does love you it's unthinkable that she would have preferred you to keep your halo and be dead.'

Gregory looked across at the small, strong beautiful face opposite to him with sudden admiration. 'I hadn't thought of it in that way. But, of course, you're right. I've been allowing my wretchedness to cloud my wits. Thank you a thousand times for letting in some daylight. I'll go up to Gwaine Meads just as soon as I can get a night off from the office.'

The next day was Sunday and, as Gregory was due for forty-eight hours' leave, he had no difficulty in arranging that he should take it from Monday morning. He reached Gwaine Meads soon after lunch and found Erika in her office, dealing as usual with the hospital accounts. She looked thin and ill and at once declared that she had no intention of discussing matter with him.

Imbued with an entirely new spirit since his evening with Diana, he thrust out his long jaw and said, 'Yes you will. Like it or not you are going to listen to me. But I can't say what I have to say where we may be overheard.' Taking her topcoat from a hook on the door he held it for her and added, 'Come on. Put this on and come out into the garden. If you won't I'm carry you out as you are, then you'll catch your death of cold; so you had much better be sensible.'

'Very well.' Her splendid blue eyes above the high check bones regarded him stonily. 'Since you insist. But I warn you that if you remain here afterwards I shall take an evening train to somewhere where you can't find me.'

He ignored her remark and they went out into the garden. It was October the 19th, and a cold wintry day; so not the happiest place in which to attempt a reconciliation. But he was now determined to beat down her defences, and as they began to walk up and down the lawn he plunged at once into his story. He did not attempt to excuse himself but gave a strictly factual account of the whole affair.

When he had finished she asked, 'Why didn't you come up here and tell me all this before?'

'God alone knows!' he exclaimed irritably. 'It was really old Pellinore. He put it into my head that if I drove you into solitude you might commit suicide. I was so desperately worried that I hadn't the sense to realize that you are much too well balanced to do anything like that.'

She gave him a quick look. 'I very nearly did the night I got back here. It would have been easy enough to get something from the dispensary. I had half a mind to, because I really felt that I'd come to the end of everything.'

'Praise be, you didn't! And if you love me that much surely-surely you can bring yourself to forget the wretched business?'

Suddenly she turned and grasped his arm. 'Oh, my dear. Now you’ve told me what really happened I can. But it was such a frightful shock. And from what she said it seemed impossible to believe that you had not fallen in love with her. As it is I can't even hate her any more. She saved your life, darling! She saved your rife! What does anything else matter?

Within a minute he had pulled her down a path into the nearest shrubbery and was kissing her fiercely while she wept with happiness at being once more in his arms.

Presently she said that she meant to try to put Sabine right out of her mind, as though she had no real existence, but that would not be possible if Gregory continued to be friends with her; so she wanted his solemn promise that in the future he would neither see nor write to her.

He gave it willingly, and fully restored her confidence in him by telling her that during the past three weeks he had deliberately avoided any meeting with Sabine, had seen her only once, and then not to speak to.

Soon afterwards they returned to the house and settled down comfortably in front of a warm fire. They had so much to say to one another that the afternoon sped by rapidly, and as there were no other guests staying in the house they were able to dine tête-à-tête in the little dining room of the private wing. Gregory produced the foie gras and told her about Diana. Erika was amused at his having taken the advice of a girl scarcely out of her teens, and pretended that she would find new cause for jealousy in this paragon who combined such wisdom with youth and beauty; but a minute later she added seriously that when she came to London she must meet Diana and thank her from the bottom of her heart for having sent him back to her.

It was shortly after the nine o'clock news that Gregory was called to the telephone. He was away for about five minutes and when he rejoined Erika every trace of his new happiness had disappeared.

'What is it, darling?' she asked anxiously. 'Don't tell me that you've been recalled to duty. That would be too awful.'

'No,' he said, in a somewhat bewildered way. 'No. That was Pellinore. At first I couldn't make out what he was talking about. But before he finished he made it plain enough. He rang up to tell me that Sabine Tuzolto has been arrested as a spy.'

Erika's blue eyes became round, her big generous mouth opened a little; then she suddenly sat back and gave way to peals of laughter.

'Stop that!' Gregory exclaimed angrily. 'This is no laughing matter.'

'Oh, but it is; it is!' Erika was half choking and tears of mirth were running down her cheeks. 'It is the funniest thing that has happened for years. You, my dear, Grauber's bete noire, the nightmare of the Gestapo, Britain's all-time high Secret Agent, you of all people have been fooled into bringing a Nazi spy into England and… and cream of the jest planting her in the house of the man who knows more than anyone outside the Cabinet about Britain's war secrets.'

'Very funny! Very funny indeed!' snapped Gregory. 'But may I remind you that this woman saved my life.'

Erika cast her eyes upward as though appealing to the gods against crass stupidity. 'Nonsense, you poor simpleton. Once they had decided how to make use of you your life was no longer in danger. This Hungarian tart did her big act because she was told to by Ribbentrop, and like a ninny you fell for It. Really, if there is a kindergarten for secret agents you ought to go there for a refresher course.'

'You are wrong! Utterly wrong! The one thing had nothing whatever to do with the other. She got me out of Grauber's clutches without any prompting from anyone. It was only later, after they had found out about the way she had rescued me, and ordered her into exile on that account, that the question arose of her coming to England. And, damn it all, we don't even know yet if she is guilty. She may be the victim of some stupid mistake by M.I.5. Anyway I owe her all the help I can give, and I'll have to catch the first train in the morning for London.'

Coming to her feet, Erika cried in a pleading voice, 'But darling! Only this afternoon you promised, promised faithfully, that you'd have no more to do with her.'

I can't help that. Promises have to go by the board when a proven friend is in danger.'

Erika's eyes became hard as ice. 'All right! Go if you want to! If you do, it will be the clearest possible proof that you are still in love with her. And I'll not stand for that. It will be the end between us. Do you understand? The end! The end! The final, irrevocable end!'

The Prisoner in the Tower

Chapter 22

Gregory and Erika wrangled for an hour. They got no further. At length they went up to bed. Erika in tears and emotionally exhausted, Gregory bitterly resentful at what he considered to be her unwarrantable jealousy and lack of understanding. Instead of the joyous culmination of their reunion, which they had been happily anticipating until Sir Pellinore's telephone call, they slept in separate rooms.

In the morning Gregory decided on a last attempt to make her appreciate his point of view; but he found her door locked and she flatly refused to let him in.

Four hours later he was seated opposite Sir Pellinore in the library at Carlton House Terrace, learning the details of Sabine's arrest.

'Guilty?' boomed Sir Pellinore. 'Of course she's guilty! Must have bin comin' down here and snoopin' through my papers in the middle of the night. Anyhow, M.I.5 caught her with the goods on her.'

'What sort of goods?' inquired Gregory.

'Copies of some of the key letters in my correspondence with the Turks. As you must know, I made my first big money while on the board of a private bank that specialized in loans to the Near East. For a quarter of a century I've had a lot of pull in Turkey. And once we've opened up the Med. we hope to bring Johnny Turk in on our side. I've been sounding out the big shots there. Gettin' a line on who's for us and who's against us. That's the sort of thing the Nazis would give a lot to know.'

'Then why the hell didn't you keep it in your safe?' said Gregory angrily. 'It would have served you damn well right if it had got through to the enemy.'

'Ha! What's that?' The Baronet's blue eyes popped. 'I'm not accountable to you or to any other young idiot who'd let a pretty woman twist him round her little finger. Safe's chock a block with more important stuff. Anyway, I don't expect my friends to, er… plant vipers in my bosom.'

If Gregory had not been so upset he would have laughed. As it was, he apologized. 'I'm terribly sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It has no bearing whatever on the case. But I'm half out of my wits with worry. After going through hell for the best part of a month, yesterday I got Erika to forgive me. Then you telephoned. When I told her that I must return to help Sabine, she blew up like a blockbuster. Short of a miracle, I've now done myself in with her for good.'

'More fool you, then! Help Sabine, indeed! What help can you give her? Some thug in the Moldavian Embassy evidently supplied her with a mini camera and she's bin photo graphin' my documents. Seem' that she had only just arrived from Hungary, as soon as she got herself a job with the Moldavians M.I.5 were astute enough to keep tabs on her. Yesterday they intercepted her on her way to her office and politely invited her to show them the contents of her handbag. And there were the microfilms. You're a cleverer feller than I am, Gunga Din, if you can help her to laugh that off.'

'All right,' Gregory agreed reluctantly. 'Let's take it that she is guilty. That doesn't alter the fact that she saved me from being very slowly and very painfully done to death.'

'Yes, you loony! Saved you with her tongue in her cheek. Countin' on it that, if she could get you to bring her to England, owing to my friendship with her father I'd give her house room here.'

'No. You are being unjust to her in exactly the same way as Erika. Knowing that I was a British agent she risked her own position to save my bacon. She hadn't the faintest intention of leaving Ribbentrop until Grauber found her out and she was forced to go abroad.'

'You told me yourself that she hated the Russians' guts so much that she'd rather see the housepainter feller win than ourselves.'

'She would. She told me that the first day I talked to her, and she has been honest enough to make no pretence of having altered her views. Obviously that explains her conduct. She happened to meet some other pro Nazis and discovered that through them she could put a spoke in the Russians' wheel. If you or I found ourselves stuck in Germany and were given the chance, wouldn't we do the same sort of thing to help Britain?'

'Um Sir Pellinore grunted. 'Suppose we should! Mark you, I like the gel. Enjoyed having her about the place with that nice scent she uses and her bangles clinkin'. After the way you've put it, I'm almost sorry for her. But she's made us look a fine pair of halfwits; and there is nothing we can do for her. The law must take its course.'

'All right; we'll agree that for the moment. But the least I can do is to let her know that she is not entirely friendless. You have quite enough pull to get me a permit to see her.'

'Maybe I have; but I wouldn't bet on it. Can't see why M.I.5 should let outsiders communicate with spies in prison. Not unless they can give a thunderin' good reason for wantin' to see the prisoner.'

'I can give one. I know more about Sabine than anyone in this country. Naturally they will want to get all the information out of her that they can. She. is much more likely to spill the beans if they allow me to help with her interrogation.'

'Something in that. Very well, then I'll give you a line to a friend of mine that they've nicknamed 'Himmler.' Not that he has anything in common with that Nazi horror who looks like a goofy toad. It's simply that he's the top boy for this sort of thing in M.I.5. If I'd been him I'd have jugged you for bringing that wench into the country; but he seemed to think you were too much of a fool to be dangerous.'

Gregory submitted to the irate Baronet's abuse without comment, and asked, 'What do you think she'll get?'

'How should I know? If this were the Continent her life wouldn't be worth a row of beans; but we're a lot of softies here. I doubt, though, if she'll get off with less than seven years; and for the duration, anyhow, it will be solitary confinement.'

'God, how awful for her!'

Sir Pellinore sighed. 'Yes. What a waste; lovely young creature like that. Another ruined life that Hitler has to answer for. Still, nothing we can do. We must get on with the war.'

When the letter was written Gregory took it straight round to the M.I.5 office, but he was told that the Colonel he wished to see was out and would not be in until the following morning. At nine o'clock next day he went again to the tall building that housed M.I.5. After a wait of half an hour he was taken up in a lift to the top floor and shown into a large bright office, where the man nicknamed 'Himmler' was seated behind a desk on which there was a row of different coloured telephones.

He was dressed as usual in civilian clothes, and was a big, powerful looking man with a full, ruddy face. His manner was courteous but he spoke very quickly. Having read Sir Pellinore's letter he fixed an unwavering gaze on Gregory through the tops of his bifocals and said;

'I had intended to ask you to come to see me, in any case. Tell me all you know about this woman?'

Gregory complied, gave the full story of his trip to Budapest and offered his assistance as an interrogator. The Colonel asked a number of shrewd questions, then he said, I don't think it would be a good idea for you to see her yet. I'd prefer to see what my own people can get out of her first. They are very experienced at that sort of thing. But you may be able to help us later.' After a quick look at his engagement block, he added, 'Come back and see me again on Friday three o'clock suit you?'

'Yes,' Gregory nodded. I can get away pretty well any time by swopping tours of duty with my colleagues in the War Room.' He hesitated a moment, then asked, 'What do you think they will give her?'

The big man shrugged. 'In peace time the maximum is ten years; but as we are at war she is liable to the death penalty. We have never shot a woman yet but we may do in this instance. Women agents are just as dangerous as men if not more so. In the early days foreign women gave us a lot of trouble and they were allowed to get away with internment, or a prison sentence. But the Germans are behaving with complete callousness. They have done in any number of British and French women. As a matter of policy it might be a good thing to show for once that we can be equally tough. That would make some of the other women living here as refugees think twice about trying to ferret secrets out of serving officers. I am not saying I would advocate the death penalty myself; but it might come to that. Anyway, it is not for me to decide. That will be up to the Home Secretary.'

Gregory was about to ask where Sabine was being held, but the Colonel got abruptly to his feet. 'I'm afraid I can't spare you any more time now. I have an I.S.S.B. meeting at the War Office, and I've a number of papers to run through first. See you on Friday.'

His concern for Sabine now graver than ever, and frustrated in his attempt to see her, Gregory had no alternative but to take his leave. For the next two days there was nothing he could do, and in his off duty hours he brooded miserably upon the terrible situation that Sabine had got herself into, and the wrecking of his reconciliation with Erika.

Friday came at last, and after lunch Colonel 'Himmler' received him with his usual briskness. Coming to the point at once, he said:

'Glad to see you. My people haven't got very far; so I've decided to let you try your hand. She is in the Tower and I have here an authority for the Resident Governor to admit you to her. I also have here a list of questions to which I should particularly like answers. Study it carefully and memorize them. Your best chance is to cheer her up as much as you can by recalling pleasant times you had together, then work in these questions at intervals quite casually. I'd like you to report to me here some time before seven thirty.'

Greatly relieved that Sabine had proved stubborn enough to justify his being called in to help in her interrogation; Gregory took the papers and promised to do his best. Outside he picked up a taxi, told its driver to take him to the Tower of London, and on the way there read through the list of questions. Most of them were to do with the Moldavian Embassy and some seemed such straightforward ones he was a little surprised that Sabine had so far refused to answer them.

At the entrance to the precincts of the Tower he paid off his, taxi. The sentry on the iron gate saluted him and a Yeoman Warder, wearing the flat black cap and picturesque red and black uniform dating from Tudor times, opened it to ask his business. He had not realized that the Tower was closed to the public, but the Yeoman told him that in wartime the only unofficial visitors allowed in were Service men who had made a special application to go round in one of the daily conducted tours, between either eleven and midday, or two thirty and three thirty in the afternoon. Gregory produced his letter for the Resident Governor and the Yeoman took him through to the little office where in peacetime the public buy their tickets of admission. There he signed a book and was issued with a temporary pass. Another 'Beefeater' then acted as his escort to the Governor's office.

First they walked down the slope to the twin towers that guard the entrance to the fortress proper, through the great arched gate between them and on to the bridge across the wide dry moat. Gregory glanced into it and quickly looked away again. In peacetime soldiers of the garrison played football down in it; but it was there, so he had been told, that on certain grim dawns spies caught during the war had been put up against the casement wall and executed by a firing squad.

A moment later they passed through a second great gateway, under the Byward Tower, and entered what seemed like a sunken road, as forty foot walls rose on either side, almost shutting out the dim light of the late October afternoon.

From long habit, his Yeoman guide remarked, 'The river used to run here once, sir. That's why it's called Water Lane. The Normans built only the White Tower and the great Inner Wall on our left. It was Richard I, 11891199, who pushed the river back by dumping thousands of tons of earth here taken from widening the moat. The great Outer Wall on our right, with its five additional towers facing the river, was not completed till Edward I, 1272-1307.'

A hundred yards farther on Water Lane passed through an archway between the huge cylindrical Wakefield Tower and, on the river side, an oblong block as big as a small castle in itself, with smaller towers at each of its outer corners. This was called St. Thomas's Tower and held, perhaps, more fascination for visitors than any other. Centrally beneath it ran a high vaulted tunnel which could be reached by a flight of steps down into a part of the moat. The Tower had been built to defend the tunnel, as until Victorian times it had been the entrance by river to the fortress, famous for centuries as Traitors' Gate.

After a glance at the great ten feet high double gates with their crossbars of stout timber, Gregory turned with his guide towards the Inner Wall and accompanied him through it by yet another great gate which ran immediately under the Bloody Tower. As they walked up the steep slope on the far side of the gate he could now see the splendid cube of the White Tower to his right front. Unlike the other seventeen towers there was nothing in the least grim about William the Conqueror's original Palace keep, yet its battlements and four domed turrets dwarfed all the rest into insignificance.

Turning away from it, his guide led him up a flight of steps set in a wall, to higher ground, and across an open space in which trees were growing, to a half-timbered Tudor building called 'The King's House.' Having rung the front door bell he handed Gregory over to another Yeoman Warder, who took his name, asked him to wait in a pleasantly furnished hall, and returned almost at once to say:

'Colonel Faviell will see you, sir. Please come this way.' The Yeoman then ushered him into a ground floor office.

Gregory produced his letter. As soon as the Governor had read it, he reached for his cap and said, 'That is clear enough. I'll take you across to her.'

As they left the house he went on, 'I don't mind telling you, this business has been quite a headache to us. The night of her arrest they put her in Brixton Prison, and why they couldn't have left her there, goodness knows. Perhaps the Government have some idea of making an example of her for propaganda purposes and feel that "Woman Spy Sentenced after Court Martial in the Tower" would ring a bigger bell with other young women who have an itch to do the Nazis' dirty work for them. Anyway, fathering her on us presented me with a tricky problem. You see, there hasn't been a woman prisoner in the Tower since the Lord knows when, and the question was where to put her.'

'Providing you imported a couple of wardresses to look after her, what would have been wrong with putting her in one of the ordinary cells?' Gregory asked.

The Colonel laughed. 'That's just it. There aren't any. People still think of the Tower as a State Prison; but it has long since ceased to be used for that purpose.'

'How about Baillie Stewart; he was confined here?'

'Oh, Baillie Stewart was confined in a first floor tower room in that building over there.' The Colonel pointed beyond the White Tower at a comparatively modern block in the northeast corner of the great quadrangle. 'It contains the Officers' Mess and sleeping quarters. Washing arrangements and so on ruled it out entirely as accommodation for a woman.'

'How did you solve your problem, then?'

'We put her in St. Thomas's Tower. Its interior was converted to modern needs as a residence for the Keeper of the Crown Jewels. There's a flying bridge from it over Water Lane to the Wakefield Tower where the Jewels are kept. I mean, were kept in peacetime. They were moved out of London for greater safety at the beginning of the war. General Sir George Young husband was Keeper of the Jewels, but in April '41 a bomb was dropped nearby and the tower suffered a bit from the blast. In consequence, as there were no longer any jewels here to keep, Sir George decided to move out, and took most of his furniture with him. But there was enough left to furnish a few rooms, and no difficulty about making the place reasonably habitable.'

While they were talking, the Colonel had led Gregory back across the open space, down the steep slope and through the arch under the Bloody Tower. Crossing Water Lane, they went up some steps set sideways in the wall of St. Thomas's Tower that led to a narrow gallery immediately above the great pit in which lay Traitors' Gate. Some way along the gallery there was an ordinary front door. The Colonel rang the bell and a minute or two later it was answered by a muscular middle-aged woman in a dark uniform.

'This is Mrs. Sutton,' the Colonel said. 'She and her colleague, Mrs. Wright, have been lent to us from Brixton.' He then introduced Gregory and told her that he was to be left alone with the prisoner for as long as he wished.

Gregory thanked him and asked if he should report back when he had finished his interrogation, to which the Colonel replied, 'No. All you have to do is to hand back your temporary pass at the gate. That will check you out.'

The wardress conducted Gregory through into a lofty hall in one corner of which a short flight of stairs ran up to rooms on a higher floor. Crossing the hall she took a key from her pocket, unlocked a door, opened it for him, and said in a deep bass voice, 'When you want to be let out, sir, be good enough to ring.'

He stepped forward into a good-sized room. It had narrow mullioned windows at one end, some of which, owing to bomb blast, were boarded over. That, and the early darkness of the afternoon, shrouded it in deep twilight. Gregory could just make out that it was furnished only near the windows and the vague form of Sabine sitting with her feet up on a sofa. The wardress said from behind him:

'Gentleman to see you, ducks. Just what the doctor ordered to put an end to you sitting there brooding in the dark.'

Knowing the brutal treatment meted out by women guards to their prisoners in Nazi concentration camps, Gregory could not help contrasting with it the kindness in Mrs. Sutton's deep voice, and marvelling that she should show such forbearance to an enemy accused of inflicting grievous injury on her country. As the thought flashed through his mind, the wardress flicked on the light, shut the door and locked him in.

Next moment Sabine was on her feet, crying, 'Gregory Gregory! Oh, how marvellous to see you! How clever of you to persuade them to let you visit me in this awful place.'

He took both her hands, smiled at her and pressed them, as he said, 'There wasn't anything very clever about it. I would have come sooner if I could; but the only line I had was offering to help interrogate you, and to begin with they thought the experts would get everything out of you that could be got without any help from me.'

She gave a contemptuous shrug. 'The people they sent tried wheedling and threatening by turns, but I knew that none of them dared lay a finger on me; so I just laughed at them. I stymied them from the beginning by quoting at them your Duke of Wellington. You know his famous dictum, "Never explain".'

'I felt pretty certain you wouldn't go to pieces,' "he said seriously. 'But your being here is very far from anything to laugh about; and I hope you are going to explain to me, if not officially, anyhow off the record.'

'Yes. I owe you that.' She sat down and, as he took a chair beside her, went on, 'I didn't like making use of you; but 1 had no alternative if I was both to save you and keep from failing in what I regard as doing my best for my country.'

'When you persuaded me to bring you here, then, it was with the deliberate intention of spying for the Nazis?'

'Yes. It was the outcome of that night when Ribb spoilt our fun by turning up just after I had got into bed with you. During the awful wrangle that ensued with Grauber and the rest of them, I was driven into admitting the truth about how I really did first meet you, that through you I had met Sir Pellinore, and that he was an old friend of my father's.'

'I remember that.'

'But you didn't overhear what followed; because you were driven from your hiding place by a sneezing fit or something.'

'That's right. I missed five or six minutes of the row between Grauber and Ribb, and when I got back Grauber had gone.'

'Well, Ribb wouldn't be where he is if he hadn't a very quick mind. The moment he learned I was persona grata with Sir Pellinore, he realized that fact could be used to save him from Hitler's wrath. I mean if Himmler tried to do him dirt by reporting to the Führer that his mistress had been aiding a British spy. If I could get you to plant me on Sir Pellinore, he would be able to say that I had been working for the Nazis all the time, and at great risk to myself had gone to England to carry on the good work.

'He tried his utmost to sell the idea to Grauber that there was far more to be gained by letting us escape to England than by cutting you up in little pieces and trying to have me put in a concentration camp. But Grauber wouldn't hear of it. He was obsessed with the idea of getting his own back on you. He went off still in a towering rage, vowing that he would stop at nothing to get you, and that if the Hungarian Police refused to cooperate he would demand that special pressure should be exerted on the Regent by Berlin.

'After all the admissions I had been forced to make, Ribb took it for granted I was concealing you somewhere in the house. As it was against his interests to give you up, when Grauber had gone I ceased to deny it. And I told him how we had planned for you to drive me across the frontier using Mario's passport. Ribb agreed that the plan offered the best chance for us to escape, and said that he could get the Regent to prevent any official attempt being made to stop us for twenty-four hours, but that any time after that Grauber might get the upper hand.

'Then he tackled me about working as a spy when I got to England. He said that apart from getting him out of the mess I had landed him in, and helping to defeat the Russians, it was in my own interests. If I wouldn't play, then there could never be any worthwhile future for me. I wouldn't be able to get my fortune out of Hungary, or ever go back there, or live anywhere in Hitler's Europe, after the war was over; and I'd be publicly branded as a traitor to my country. Whereas, if I could only get one really valuable war secret out of Sir Pellinore, and send it back to him, that would not only clear him with Hitler, but make me a privileged person in the Greater Reich for the rest of my life.'

Gregory nodded. 'It must have been just after you had agreed that I got back to my hiding place. I remember his saying that he would brief you next day, and wondering what he meant; but you told me afterwards that it was about getting across the frontier.'

'There was no need for him to do that; my passport and Mario's already carried special visas enabling us to cross any frontier controlled by the Reich without going through the usual formalities. I had to see him so that he could give me particulars of the people to contact in London, who would pass anything I could get hold of back to him.'

'So that's how it was. It was certainly a clever scheme if it had come off.'

'But it hasn't. Where I slipped up, I don't know; but they caught me red-handed.' A sudden note of anxiety came to her voice. 'What will they do to me, Gregory? What will they do to me?'

'My dear, I don't know. You'll be tried in camera, and by a military court, I suppose. But let's not talk of that for the moment. Tell me about your contacts. I want to hear all you can tell me about the Moldavian Embassy.'

Sabine shook her head, 'No, my dear, no. I've told you my personal part in the story; and if you care to pass that on I've no objection. I see no reason why it should make my case worse. But I'm not giving away other people. As far as my activities since I've been in London are concerned, the Duke's dictum still stands: "Never explain".'

'That's all very well, but I'm afraid you've got to if I'm to help you.'

'Help me!' She made a little gesture of despair. 'I'm sure you want to. But with the best will in the world, how can you. Having brought me here must have made you to some extent suspect. I take it that they regard you as having been completely fooled by me; but now I've been caught anything you may say on my behalf could only make them doubt your veracity, and it wouldn't do me any good.'

He stood up and took her hand. 'I don't intend to say things but to do them.'

She looked up at him with a puzzled frown. 'Do? What can you do?'

'God knows! But no sentence they can inflict on you would be half as bad as what Grauber would have done to me if you hadn't saved me from him in Budapest. So I'll still owe you something if I can get you out of this. I mean to gamble everything on planning your escape.'

Chivalry in Our Day

Chapter 23

Oh, Gregory!' Sabine came quickly to her feet. She laid her free hand on his shoulder and tears started to her eyes. 'How wonderful of you! But do you think it's really possible?'

He looked away from her, a shade uncomfortably. 'Honestly, I don't know. In some ways it should be easier to escape from a place like this than from a modern prison. In them they have all sorts of checking systems cells that can be looked into at any hour of the day or night without the doors being opened, electric rays which if broken by anyone passing through them instantly set off alarm bells, and that sort of thing whereas in the past they simply relied on big locks and thick bolts and bars. If this were an ordinary old fortress I'd back myself to get you out of it; but the trouble is, it's not. It's the size of a small town. To pull the wool over the wardresses' eyes and pinch the key to your room would be only a beginning. I'd, still have three gates to get you through before we reached the street. At night they are locked, and as the Tower is now closed to the public any strange woman going through them during the daytime would be certain to be challenged. Perhaps it was wrong of me to rouse your hopes prematurely. I can only say that I mean to try.'

'I saw what a warren of towers and gates the place is when they brought me in here,' Sabine volunteered. Then she pointed to the windows. 'But there's nothing on that side. It overlooks an embankment and the river. Perhaps you could let me down with a rope?'

'That's a possibility,' he agreed. 'I've had no chance yet to make a detailed study of the place. We mustn't rush our fences, and I mean to pay you several visits so as to acquire a thorough knowledge of the setup before deciding on a plan. That is why I want you to answer some questions about the Moldavians. I was specifically instructed to get out of you all I could about them, and if I go back empty-handed I may not be allowed to see you again.'

'In that case I'll try not to be too cagey. What exactly do they wish to know?'

He took out the list and handed it to her. Several of the questions were about members of the Embassy staff what views they expressed on the course of the war, whether they appeared to be short of money, etc.; others were about frequent visitors to the Embassy; and others again about people not connected with it but with whom Sabine had been seen while she was being watched.

'These are the sort of things they have been asking me for the past three days,' Sabine commented. 'Some of the answers I don't know, but I could have answered most of them and only refrained because I thought it wiser to refuse to talk at all. As it is going to help I'll tell you all I can.'

For some minutes he took notes of the information with which she furnished him; then he asked, 'Was it to Colonel Kasdar that you actually gave your stuff?'

'None of the questions on the paper ask me definitely to incriminate anyone,' she protested, 'so why should you ask me to?'

'That last question was off the record, and I should have told you so. I have a very good reason for wanting to know which of the Moldavians it is who is acting as a Nazi agent, and you must trust me. I suggested Kasdar because he is the M.A. and I chanced to see you dining out with him. Am I right?'

'Yes, it was Vladan Kasdar. But he is a nice person; and I should hate to get him into trouble.'

'As he is sheltering behind diplomatic privilege the worst that could happen to him is that our F.O. should declare him non persona grata, and ask for him to be sent home. Anyway, you need lose no sleep about him, because now I know that he was your contact I mean to keep him in the clear. I shall cast suspicion on someone else: probably that nasty piece of work the Second Secretary, Nichoulic. Now, I want you to write a line for me to Kasdar.'

'Must I?'

'Yes. After I have got you out of here that is, if I can without his aid there would be very little chance of your avoiding recapture.' As Gregory spoke he pushed along the table his fountain pen and a sheet of the paper he had been using to make notes. Then he told her that all he needed was a few lines addressed to Kasdar, saying that she had seen him that day and he was completely to be trusted.

When she had written them and passed the paper back, she remarked, 'How nice you look in uniform. I thought so that night I saw you in the Cafe Royal. What rank do those three rings on your arm give you?'

'Wing Commander.'

'That is Colonel de I'Air, isn't it?'

'Yes; though I'm a very phoney one, and have nothing to do with aircraft. It is simply that the system here, generally speaking, is that the rank one holds goes with the job one does. Mine is a Wing Commander's post; so, although I was temporarily seconded for special duty abroad, they kept on putting me up a rank a month until I reached it.'

Gregory asked her then how she was being treated.

She replied that the food was awful, and that she would give anything for some good warming wine to drink in the evenings as the fog which rose from the river most afternoons seemed to penetrate everywhere, and made her cold and miserable. But she had no legitimate complaints, and preferred being there to the one night she had spent in Brixton with its awful smell of cooked cabbage and disinfectant.

From his pocket he produced a box of pills, and said as he gave them to her. 'Hoping that I'd be allowed to see you, I had these made up yesterday. They'll do you no permanent harm, but if you take them according to the instructions on the box they will cause you to run a temperature. Take care that neither of the wardresses sees them and make a start tonight.'

'Of course, if you wish me to.' She raised her dark eyebrows. 'But what is the idea?'

'I want you to appear too ill to stand up to further interrogation for a few days. You see, even if I succeed in getting you out of the Tower that alone won't save you. The police would catch you and pop you back in again unless I can first arrange for you to go to some really safe hideout, or get you shipped off abroad. To make those sort of arrangements takes time. I am confident that M.I.5 won't send you to trial until they think they have got all they can out of you, but there is a limit to the spread over that I can manage with the information you can give me. So this is a device for postponing our next talk till, say, Thursday. We had better not risk a longer interval than that in case a specialist is called in and tumbles to it that you have been doping yourself.'

A few minutes later, he congratulated her on the courage she had shown so far, urged her to keep it up, and rang the bell for Mrs. Sutton to let him out. When the wardress had done so he said to her:

'Now that I have been put on this case I'd like to get a full picture of the prisoner's surroundings and the routine she follows. I've no wish at all to interfere materially with your arrangements, but sometimes quite slight changes make them much more amenable to reason.'

Mrs. Sutton obliged at once. She reeled off the schedule for Sabine's day, then took him up the short flight of stairs leading up from the hall. Above was a servant's bedroom from which the furniture had not been removed and in it Sabine was locked up at nights. When they came down she conducted him over what must in normal times have been a spacious and charming flat. Now, most of its rooms were half empty, with soot in the fireplaces and on the floors plaster brought down by the bomb blast. They then looked in on the room which was being used by the two wardresses as a bedroom; and lastly visited the kitchen in which the other wardress, a Mrs. Wright, had just started to prepare the evening meal.

Mrs. Wright had carroty hair and a freckled face. She was somewhat younger and a little taller than Mrs. Sutton but looked just as formidable. Gregory shook hands with her. He did not suggest any changes, said that he expected to be there again the following day, and took his departure.

Outside, there were no taxis to be had, so he took the Underground to St. James's Park, picked up one there and had himself driven to Boodle's. After an hour spent drinking with friends in his Club, he walked across the road to the M.I.5 building. Five minutes later he was making his report to 'Himmler.'

Having greatly intrigued the purposeful looking Colonel by giving him Sabine's version of Ribbentrop's plot for planting her on Sir Pellinore, Gregory doled out some of the information she had supplied about the Moldavians. After the past failures of his regular interrogators this was quite enough to encourage the Colonel to leave the interrogation in Gregory's hands, and even to press him to push on with it.

Gregory said that as he was due to go on night duty after dinner and would need a few hours' sleep in the morning, he would prefer not to go to the Tower again until the following afternoon. He added that he thought it would ease the wheels a bit further if he might provide the prisoner with some drink and, when he had a chance, collect for her some of her warmer clothes that she had left at Carlton House Terrace.

'Go down there whenever it suits you best, my dear fellow,' replied 'Himmler' cordially. 'You have made an excellent beginning. I'll telephone Colonel Faviell and tell him you are to be given access to the prisoner at whatever hours you like. As far as drink is concerned, there is no objection to your supplying her with a few bottles…' he laughed suddenly '… providing, of course, that you don't expect the "firm" to pay for it. I've no objection either to your taking her down some of her warmer clothes. Forgive me now. I still have a lot to do. Let me know how you get on.'

For several days past the Desert Air Force had been carrying out intensive attacks against Rommel's positions and communications; and, early in the morning, when Gregory and his colleagues were drowsing in the dimmed lights of the War Room, they were roused by the shrilling of one of the telephones. A signal had just come through that by the light of a brilliant full moon, General Montgomery had launched the Eighth Army from El Alamein in operation Lightfoot, the full-scale offensive which it had been planned should precede Torch.

Later that day, Saturday, October the 24th, after a good sleep, a bath and lunch, Gregory again went down to the Tower. To his considerable satisfaction the Governor informed him that the prisoner had been reported sick that morning. The doctor could not say exactly what was wrong with her. It was not 'flu but seemed to be a form of low fever. She was in no danger, anyhow for the moment, but in bed, of course, and might not be up to further interrogation for a day or two.

'Then I've had my journey for nothing,' said Gregory. 'Unless… yes, unless you will allow me to take the opportunity of going round the Tower. It is years since I've seen it properly, and…'

The Colonel was on his feet in an instant, exclaiming enthusiastically, 'But of course! I'll show you round myself! Delighted to do so! Wonderful old place this! In normal times we get thousands of foreign visitors but it staggers me how few English people bother to come here. You would think being able to look at the Crown Jewels would be enough to induce them to visit us even if there were nothing else to see. But there are more things of interest in the Tower than there are in all the other historical buildings in London put together. It is the whole of English history from 1066. Before that even. We have still standing part of the original Roman wall built round ancient London, and in 885 repaired by Alfred the Great. It was in this house that Elizabeth was imprisoned before she became Queen, and Guy Fawkes was tried upstairs in the Council Chamber after the Gunpowder Plot. Come along and I'll show you.'

They inspected the State Axe and the site of the Block on Tower Hill, where so many noble heads had rolled. In the White Tower they visited the Chapel built by William the Conqueror one of the most perfect examples of Norman architecture in England and the wonderful collections of arms, armour and military trophies; then saw the instruments of torture in the basement, and the spot where the bones of the two murdered Princes in the Tower had been discovered in the time of Charles II. But the Bloody Tower was said to have been the actual scene of that crime, and of many others. In the stone walls of its chambers could still be seen the prayers and inscriptions cut so patiently by men and women who had made history and, mostly, left it only for the scaffold.

Coming out of the archway under it, the pit in which lay Traitors' Gate was immediately opposite them. Crossing Water Lane they halted by the guard rail which fenced off the broad flight of stairs up which Prisoners of State had come after landing from the barge that had brought them down the Thames.

'May I go down and look through to the far end of the tunnel?' Gregory asked innocently.

'By all means, if you like,' the Colonel replied. 'But it is blocked up. Has been ever since the Duke of Wellington had the moat drained when he was Governor here. So it comes to a dead end against the embankment, which is at the same level as this on the other side.'

Throwing a leg over the rail Gregory slipped down on to the top step, ran quickly down the others and across the floor of the old moat to the gate. Its two halves were both formed from five thick horizontal beams, each held to the other by some twenty upright bars about six inches apart. The two central beams had slots holding a stout crossbar which was secured by the biggest padlock Gregory had ever seen. From end to end if was a foot in length and its semicircular clasp was at least an inch in diameter.

The gate had no other fastenings at its top or bottom, but one glance was enough to show Gregory that the padlock would prove too much for him. To have filed through the hinged clasp would have taken hours and to blow the lock would have needed so big a charge that its explosion must be heard. Even if by bringing in a Bunsen burner he could have cut through the clasp fairly quickly there remained the question of whether he would be able to get the gate open; and there was no way in which he could test that before the event. Each side of it, he reckoned, must weigh something in the neighbourhood of a ton, and all the odds were that it had not been opened for years; so the great hinges would have rusted and made it impossible to shift.

He had no need to peer between the bars to see the end of the tunnel, as it was not flush with the farther wall of St. Thomas's Tower. The tunnel ran on for some twenty feet, forming another great pit similar to the one behind him; so daylight lit it from both ends. Its sides were formed by stone blocks each about two feet in height, and there were nine rows of them. The arch above the gate was filled by more beams with stout trellis work between them, and under the beam that' ran parallel with the top beams of the gate there was a row of wicked iron spikes, so there could be no question of climbing over it.

Hiding his disappointment, Gregory rejoined the Governor, who then took him farther than he had yet been along Water Lane and through a gate in the Outer Wall that led on to the tree lined embankment which stretched unbroken from the western to the eastern end of the fortress. Along its whole length, pointing out over the river, were a long line of artillery pieces of all ages, and they went over for a closer look at some of the more interesting ones.

Gregory noted that there had been a sentry on the gate through which they had come. The gate was only about fifty yards east of St. Thomas's Tower, and he soon saw that two other sentries were stationed one at each end of the embankment. When he and the Colonel came opposite to the Tower, while they were examining the cannons he stole several quick looks up at it.

The central windows, which he judged to be those of the hall and the rooms on either side of it in one of which he had seen Sabine were immediately above the pit in which lay the dead end of the tunnel. It was a drop of fifty feet, and even if he could lower her and himself they would then be in the eighteen feet deep pit instead of on the embankment. As her bedroom was on the other side of the tower and looked out on Water Lane, it would be pointless to come down from the window there. By swinging like a pendulum on a rope from the window of the room in which he had seen her, it might be possible to land on the embankment instead of in the pit, or the attempt might be made from a window of one of the flanking tower rooms if he could get her to it. But even then it would mean a drop of thirty feet and take at least ten minutes for the two of them to accomplish. It was the thought of the time factor which made him rule it out. With one sentry within fifty yards, and two others walking their beats with an uninterrupted view of the tower, it was almost a certainty that they would be spotted. More out of curiosity than anything else he asked the Governor:

'Are the sentries here issued with ball cartridge?'

Colonel Faviell laughed. 'Good gracious, no! We've had plenty of air raids, but at least we have no cause to fear a seaborne assault by the enemy. There is little point in their being here really, now the Jewels have gone; but it is tradition that we should have them, and tradition dies hard.'

In spite of this reassuring reply, Gregory still felt that the odds on being caught, if they came down from a window, were so big that as an escape route it was not worth further consideration. They returned to the King's House, where the Governor gave him tea; then, having thanked him for a most interesting afternoon, Gregory made his way back to the West End.

Next morning he rang up the Tower to confirm that Sabine was still too ill for her interrogation to be continued, and asked that when she was better he should be notified by a message to the War Room; then he telephoned M.I.5 to inform Colonel 'Himmler' of the situation. After that as it was a Sunday, he rang up Sir Pellinore to suggest that since Sabine was no longer his guest they should resume their Sunday night suppers, and the Baronet said he would be pleased to see him.

At Carlton House Terrace that evening, as soon as Gregory had been provided with a glass of sherry, he told his host of his visit to Sabine, and that she had sent a message conveying her most abject apologies for her shocking abuse of Sir Pellinore's hospitality and her hope that, as she had been inspired by patriotic motives, he would not think too badly of her.

'Queerest apology I've ever had,' grunted Sir Pellinore. 'And I don't want any more like it. Still, shows the wench has good manners. That's more than many young people have these days. Can't help bein' sorry for her, in a way. Confounded nuisance though. You and I are bound to be dragged in at her court martial, and made to look a pair of fools. Fine kettle of fish your idiocy has landed us in.'

Gregory gave the 'soft answer that turneth away wrath' and changed the subject.

During the meal their talk, as usual, ranged over the battlefronts. The previous Sunday night Lancaster’s had carried out a terrific raid on Le Creusot, practically eliminating the great munition works there that French collaborators had been running at full blast for the benefit of the Germans. The Admiralty had announced a great increase in the strength of our Fleet, the two great new battleships Anson and Howe now being in commission, and that since the beginning of the war we had accounted for no less than 530 enemy submarines. The Germans were still hurling their troops against Stalingrad but the attacks showed signs of weakening. Moscow claimed that some of the German divisions had lost up to seventy per cent of their effectives; and it did really begin to look as if the all-important city on the Volga would succeed in holding out through the winter. On the past two nights the R.A.F. had bombed Genoa, causing great havoc among wharfs and shipping. As the port was Rommel's principal supply base, these actions were clearly designed to assist operations in North Africa; and General Montgomery's offensive had started well, some points in the enemy's main defences having been penetrated.

They took their port up to the library, and when they had settled down there Gregory told Sir Pellinore the story, as disclosed by Sabine, of her plot with Ribbentrop. The older man listened with the greatest interest, then exclaimed:

'Strap me! What a lot these Nazis are! Just think of Anthony Eden, sayin' he had a mistress, lettin' her shield a German spy, then go as a spy with him to the Fatherland in the hope of making John Anderson look a fool in front of Churchill. Berchtesgaden must be a regular thieves' kitchen. It's the gel who's got the raw end of the deal, though. And it's worse for her than it would be for a man. Prison plays the very devil with women's looks. She'll be prematurely old and no good for anything by the time she comes out.'

'That won't be the case if I can help it.'

'Eh? What d'you mean by that?'

'I'm planning her escape.'

The Baronet's blue eyes bulged. 'You're joking!'

'I'm not. I was never more serious in my life.'

'Then you're crazy. You don't know what you're talkin' about.'

'I tell you I am planning her escape. And what is more I need your help.'

Sir Pellinore sprang to his feet. 'God in Heaven, man! Is it likely! You're drunk! Barmy! Off your rocker!'

'I'm as sane as you are.'

'Then you're pulling me leg, and I don't like it. I can take a joke, but this has gone far enough.'

'It has hardly started yet,' Gregory replied calmly. 'I assure you that I am in deadly earnest. I mean to do my damnedest to get Sabine out.'

'But damn it all! You can't have realized the implications. To make such an attempt would be treason.'

T know that; but I hope to escape being tried for it.'

'You would be, if you were caught. And you will be. You can't get prisoners out of a place like the Tower. It's not some tin pot little concentration camp.'

'I know.' Suddenly Gregory smiled. 'Yesterday afternoon the Resident Governor kindly took me all over it.'

'My God, you must be made of solid gall! All the same, if you had reconnoitred the place for a month you wouldn't be any better off. To make such an attempt would be madness. It couldn't possibly succeed.'

'Probably you are right. But that remains to be seen. I am simply telling you that I mean to have a crack at it.'

Sir Pellinore sat down again, and tried sweet reason:

'Now look here, Gregory. You really must try to get your feet down on the earth. Naturally, havin' had an affaire with this young woman you're very distressed about her. I understand that. You'd be a cad if you weren't. But she is accused of having aided the enemy, and if you try to help her to escape you'll be betraying your own country.'

'I admit that it may look like that. But, after all, she is no longer a danger to us; and if she did get away she has no information of importance she could take with her.'

'That's true; but it wouldn't make your case any better.'

'Not if I'm caught; but I hope I won't be.'

'My dear boy, you positively must not take this risk. Your having been in love with the gel is no justification for it. You are not yourself. Your mind is being unduly influenced by your feelin's for her.'

'You are quite wrong about that,' Gregory sighed. 'It is Erika I am in love with. As I told you when I was last here, I have queered my pitch with her through insisting that I must do what I can for Sabine. But please put it right out of your mind that my intentions in this matter are dictated by sentiment. To use an outmoded phrase, it is "an affair of honour" or, if you prefer a more modern one, it boils down to "cutlet for cutlet".'

Sir Pellinore nodded morosely. 'You mean that because she got you out of clink in Budapest you feel that it's up to you to get her out of clink here. Sound enough reasoning in its day, but not accordin' to modern ideas. The age of chivalry is past.'

'More's the pity. Anyhow, I am going to attempt a damsel rescuing act, and you are going to help me.'

'By God, I'm not!' Sir Pellinore was on his feet again. 'If you are berserk enough to try this thing I can't stop you. But I'll not touch it. No, not with a barge pole!'

'Yes, you will. I'm not asking you to hold the ladder, or anything of that sort. In fact, I'll take special pains to ensure that you are not involved; but you have got to pull some strings to clear the way for me, and get me some highly secret information.'

'I'll see you in hell first!'

'There is no need to be rude.' The more violently agitated the handsome old man became the more quietly determined his lean faced junior seemed to become. Holding up a protesting hand, he went on. 'Do please sit down again and take it easy. Like it or not, you are going to listen to me for ten minutes while I tell you the basis of the plan I've formed, and what I want you to do.'

Sir Pellinore would not sit down. He poured himself another dock glass of port, tossed it straight off, and began to stride restlessly up and down the room. Like an active volcano, while listening to Gregory he occasionally rumbled protests:

'Impossible! Hell's Bells, you can't be serious! They wouldn't tell me that; why should they? You'd be playin' with dynamite. No, no; you'd never pull it off! This is the maddest scheme I've ever heard of. They'd never stand for it! But just think of the risk! It'll be the finish of you. Finish of me too, like as not. The very thought of the gamble we'd be takin' makes me shudder.' Yet gradually his objections became less vehement, and at length he said:

'God alone knows what will come of this. Still; suppose I must do as you wish. That wench is mighty lucky to have a man of your calibre feel under an obligation to her. Odds still are though that she'll spend the next seven years in prison. If she does it'll be because you've failed. Can't say I'd lose much sleep over that as far as she's concerned; but if you really make a mess of things they might hang you.'

'If I do they may hang her too or shoot her; which comes to the same thing. The French shot Mata Hari in the last war, and the Germans Nurse Cavell. This time the Boche are just butchering out of hand any of our women agents whom they catch connected with the resistance; and your friend at M.I.5. seems to think the Home Office are taking the view that we are overdue in staging a few reprisals.'

'The devil they are!' Sir Pellinore halted in his tracks. 'If that's the case your urge to play knight errant is much more justifiable. But the way you propose to set about it sends cold shivers down my spine. I'll do what you want, but I greatly fear we'll both have cause to rue it.'

They talked on for another hour. With great reluctance Sir Pellinore gave Gregory some of the secret information for which he asked, and promised to do his best to get for him the still more secret particulars, knowledge of which was essential to the success of his plan.

A little before eleven Gregory walked across the Park to do his tour of duty in the War Room. The officers on the staff there were under no obligation to maintain secrecy about where they were employed and habitually used the official paper for their correspondence; so during the night, on a sheet of the blue vellum headed 'Offices of the War Cabinet,' he wrote a note to Colonel Kasdar. It ran:

/ have visited the Baroness Tuzolto in prison and she gave me a message for you. In the circumstances I feel that it would be inadvisable for me to call at your Embassy or for us to be seen together in any public place. I should therefore be glad if you would call upon me this evening any time between six o'clock and midnight at my private address 272 Gloucester Road, S.W.7.

In the morning, on his way home, he dropped the letter in at the Moldavian Embassy.

That evening he described to Rudd the man he was expecting and told him that if anyone else called he was 'not at home.' Then he shook a cocktail, which he hoped his visitor would arrive to share with him, and sat down to wait with far from easy feelings. It was, he knew, quite on the cards that, fearing a trap, the Moldavian Military Attaché might not come; and, if he did, great subtlety and tact would be required to win him over. Sir Pellinore had been difficult enough; Colonel Kasdar might well prove more so, and if he could not be induced to play, the plan that Gregory had evolved would prove unworkable.

Half past six came, seven, half past and eight. Gloomily Gregory sat down to a cold meal that could easily be pushed, aside. In twenty minutes he had finished it. Nine o'clock struck, and he began to fear that Kasdar did not mean to come; but at a quarter past, footsteps sounded outside on the landing and Rudd showed in the tall, dark Colonel.

Gregory greeted him cordially, mixed him a whisky and soda and said, 'I expect the Baroness will have told you that it was I who brought her from Budapest to England.'

'Yes, so,' the Moldavian replied. 'Der Cafe Royal we dine at, ja. There she haf you point out to me.'

'Fine. Your having the low-down about me already should ease the wheels between us quite a lot.'

'Excuse, please, my English am not var good.'

'If you would prefer, we will talk in French or German,' Gregory suggested. T am quite fluent in both.'

The Colonel's swarthy face lit up with a smile. 'Let us use German, then,' he said in that language. 'For us Moldavians it is our second tongue.'

'By all means,' Gregory smiled back. 'What I was saying was, that since the Baroness has told you that we serve the same interests, that will make it much easier for us to understand one another without beating about the bush.'

'She did not say that.' A swift glint of suspicion showed in the Moldavian's yellow flecked eyes. 'She led me to suppose that when she met you in Budapest you were there on a secret mission for the British.'

'That is true. But didn't she also tell you that my sympathies are Fascist, and…' Gregory added the lie unblushingly '… that before the war I had many friends among the high-up Nazis?'

'She told me only that you are strongly anti-Communist, and remarked what a pity it was that in this war you, and many Englishmen like you, are on the wrong side.'

'Then she at least made it clear to you that we hold views in common.'

I am a neutral,' the Colonel replied warily. 'I have given you no reason to suppose that I am a pro Nazi.' Then he glanced nervously round the room.

'You don't have to,' Gregory's retort was swift. 'I know you to be. The Baroness has named you as her contact with the Nazis. And you have no need to be afraid there is a microphone in the room. You can search for it if you like.'

The Moldavian did not accept the offer, but said in a low voice, 'So the little Sabine said that, did she? I feared that might be the case when I got your letter. If then, as you say, you are a friend, is it that you have sent for me to tip me off that the Foreign Office will be asking my Government to recall me?'

'No. She told only me. No one else knows; so you are in no danger of being had up on the mat by your Ambassador for un neutral activities. In fact, I am going to make certain that no suspicion attaches to you by reporting that Sabine said it was to your Second Secretary, Mr. Nichoulic, that she turned in her stuff.'

'Wing Commander, you place me in your debt. But I am at a loss to understand…'

'Have I not said that I, also, am an admirer of the Nazis. I had the honour to enjoy the friendship of Reichsmarschall Goering.'

'Indeed! I, too, know him; but only slightly. I was once asked to shoot at Karinhall, when I was Assistant Military Attaché in Berlin.'

Gregory jumped at the chance to consolidate his position. He had once spent a night at Karinhall and, while refraining from disclosing the very exceptional circumstances of his visit, he at once began to dilate on the beauties of Goering's imposing home. When they had discussed it and its owner for some minutes, Kasdar said:

'In’ your letter to me, Wing Commander, you said that you had a message for me from Sabine.'

'Yes; here it is.' Gregory took the note from his pocket and passed it over. When the Moldavian had read it he stroked his fine black moustache thoughtfully and remarked:

'The conversation we have already had naturally inclines me to feel at ease with you, and I am glad to have the Baroness's confirmation that I may be so. However, the very fact that she did write it and that you asked me to come here indicates that you have something more to say to me.'

Gregory nodded. 'You are right about that. And I will be frank. I am not proposing to mask your activities by throwing suspicion on Nichoulic solely because I would rather see Russia defeated than Germany. It is because I am contemplating an undertaking in which I need help; and the sort of help I require can be given to me only by someone like yourself, who is actually in touch with the Germans.'

'What is this undertaking?' asked the Colonel cautiously.

'It is to rescue Sabine from her prison.'

The bulky Moldavian sat up in his chair with a jerk. 'But is that possible? It must be far from easy to get an ordinary prisoner out of a modern prison, and I imagine she is particularly carefully guarded.'

'She is not in a modern prison. She is in the Tower of London. Mind you, it may prove every bit as difficult to get her out of there. I am by no means sure that I can yet; but I mean to try. I have managed to escape myself from several prisons and prison camps; so I know quite a lot about that sort of thing, and this time I have the advantage of being outside the fence. You see, I am assisting in her interrogation. That enables me to see her at any time I like and, without being suspected, concert arrangements with her or, if desirable, take in to her some form of disguise.'

Kasdar drew heavily on his cigarette. 'As it was you who brought her into England, I was much surprised to learn that they had allowed you to see her. It was clever of you to get yourself called in on her interrogation. But I fear I cannot aid you in helping her to escape. Much as I should like to do so, I am not prepared to take that risk. If I were caught it could be ruled that I had exceeded the limits of diplomatic privilege. Then I would find myself in a British prison.'

'I am not asking your help to get her out of the Tower,' Gregory said quickly. 'It is getting her to some place of safety afterwards that would prove too much for me alone. There would be no sense in rescuing her if she was likely to be caught again within twenty-four hours; and she almost certainly would be if she remained in London.'

That is true. What are your proposals to meet this situation?'

T have none; because I don't know how the German system works for smuggling people in and out of this country. But I take it you do, or could find out.'

Instead of replying, the Moldavian asked a question. 'Tell me, Wing Commander, what lies behind all this? The risk to yourself is immense. If you are caught you will be cashiered and receive a prison sentence long enough to ruin your whole life. I cannot believe that you would lay yourself open to such a terrible penalty solely because you are a friend of Reichs Marshall Goering and would prefer a Fascist dominated Europe to a Communist one.'

'Of course not!' Gregory had been ready for this. 'That is one reason; but I have two others which weigh much more with me. The second is that I am in love with Sabine. Circumstances dictated that once having got her to London I should refrain from going about with her for a while. But perhaps she told you this in Budapest we became lovers, and all through our long journey to London we lived as man and wife.'

'Yes; she told me that.'

'You will understand, then, that the thought of her in prison is torture to me. Desperation at the knowledge that she will be left there for years to rot, unless I can restore her to freedom, drives me to this act. Even if I cannot reap the reward for saving her, I owe it to her for the happiness she has given me.'

He paused a moment, then went on, 'My third reason is an entirely selfish one. I am convinced that Herr Hitler will win this war. I hope it will end in the utter destruction of the Russians and a compromise between Britain and Germany. But it may not. Churchill is incredibly pigheaded. He is the sort of man who will refuse to recognize when we are beaten. To bring an end to hostilities Herr Hitler may be compelled to land troops here and subdue Britain by force of arms. That would mean years of great misery for the population. All my life I have lived well. I hate poverty, indifferent food and discomfort. I was well thought of by the Nazis before the war. If I can put myself definitely on the right side by doing them some signal service such as restoring Ribbentrop's beautiful mistress to him I should be made a member of the Parti, and t rewarded with some responsible position under the occupation Government. They might even make me a Gauleiter, or something of that sort. You see, I am being completely frank with you.'

'Admirable, admirable,' purred the tall Moldavian. 'You and I are birds of a feather, Wing Commander; sensible people who know which side our bread is buttered.'

After his great effort Gregory gave a silent sigh of relief. He felt confident now that he had really won his visitor's confidence, and got him exactly where he wanted him. Next moment he suffered bitter disillusion.

Finishing his whisky, Kasdar said, 'I envy you the joy you had of the little Baroness. I had aspirations in that direction myself. But I lack your altruism in being prepared to run risks for her only to hand her over to Herr Ribbentrop. As for your ambitions, I find them most laudable; but they are no affair of mine. She has had the bad luck to get caught, and as far as I am concerned that is the end of the matter. The cooperation which you ask might well bring about the ruin of my career; and nothing would induce me to play ducks and drakes with that. I repeat nothing.'

Playing With Dynamite

Chapter 24

The Moldavian stood up to leave. Gregory stood up too, 1 but instead of turning towards the door he picked up the whisky bottle and said in a casual voice:

'You might as well have the other half before you go.'

Without waiting for a reply he began to pour out. While he did so his brain was working with the speed of a dynamo. If he could not, here and now, secure the Colonel's promise to help him he might not get another chance. Knowing what he intended to attempt Kasdar might consider it dangerous to have anything further to do with him.

He could, of course, try blackmail threaten to have Sabine tell the truth about the Colonel's having been her contact instead of saying that it was Nichoulic but he had a feeling that would not come off. Gregory was a shrewd judge of character. In his secret work he had to be, for there were times when a mistake in assessing trustworthiness could have cost him his life. In the past half-hour he had summed up Kasdar and would have reported on him as:

'A typical Balkan soldier of good family. Not very clever, but brave, proud, ambitious, honest according to his lights, and likely to be very touchy about anything reflecting on a somewhat outmoded code of honour that was held by his class.'

His acting, although a neutral, as a Nazi Agent could no more be held against him than it could against Gregory that he, in the previous year, had gone as a spy to Russia, although that country was Britain's ally. The great majority of upper and middle class Central Europeans, having for the past twenty years lived under the menace of their countries being overrun by the Soviets, had seen their own protection in entering the Fascist and Nazi camps; so it was natural that most of the Moldavians were hoping that Germany would win the war. It was that, no doubt, rather than payment for information received, which had led Kasdar to help the Nazis. In fact, if he were well off and most military attaches were chosen from among the richer officers of their armies he might strongly resent an offer of money from either side. The odds were still greater that he would resent an attempt to blackmail him. It was liable to arouse in him all the primitive instincts of his type anger, courage and defiance. The only hope was to handle him with velvet gloves and to titillate his ambition.