Faked Passports

With a wave of his hand the Major instructed the orderly to bring two more breakfasts but his politeness did not extend to waiting for his guests. Tucking a paper napkin into his stiff uniform collar he sat himself down at once and lowering his head began to guzzle as though his very life depended upon the speed with which he consumed his food.

In due course two more gammon rashers and another jug of Ersatz coffee arrived, upon which Gregory gave Freddie a swift look and, tucking his paper serviette into the top of his collar, set to with a most admirable imitation of the Major's manners, that the airman did his best to follow.

"Aren't you going to join us?" Gregory asked Wentsich with his mouth full of ham and bread and butter. But the Ober Lieutenant shook his head.

"I don't go off duty until seven o'clock and I have my breakfast then; but I'll keep you company with another drink in the meantime."

As soon as they had finished breakfast the fat Major stood up and said: "We'll start at once, then I shall have plenty of time to drop you at the Air Ministry before I keep my appointment."

"Danke Schön Herr Major," Gregory murmured, but he felt no gratitude at all for this new offer; in fact, it perturbed him exceedingly. He had counted on the Major's dropping them 'somewhere in Berlin', which would have left them free to follow their own devices; whereas, now that he intended to set them down at the Air Ministry, it meant that they would at least have to make a pretence of inquiring there for Goering. And once inside the Air Ministry with a British Officer in R.A.F. uniform as his companion, Gregory felt that it might be anything but easy to get out again.

Wentsich rang for the Major's car and, having thanked the Ober Lieutenant for his kindness, they went downstairs out into the still dark street where the car was waiting.

It was not a big car, as the Germans were economizing petrol and, in fact, no cars were on the roads at all now except those in use for the Fighting Services and official business. Nevertheless, they made a steady thirty miles an hour towards Berlin and did even better when they got on to the broad Autobahn between Wittenberg and Potsdam. By ten past six they were running through the suburbs of the Capital and a quarter of an hour later, in the grey light of dawn, the car pulled up in front of the Air Ministry.

Gregory was about to get out when the Major checked him.

"Ein Augenblick," he called. "It is unlikely that the Field Marshall will be in his office as early as this. Let us inquire, and if he is not you can come on with me and we can have a second breakfast together after I have done my business."

Cursing inwardly, Gregory had smilingly to agree. The Major sent his chauffeur into the building to make the inquiry; the man returned to say that the Field Marshal had not slept in his flat at the Air Ministry that night and it was not known at what hour he would arrive.

"Perhaps we had better wait," suggested Gregory hopefully, but the Major would not hear of it; insisting that his own business, although important, would take only a few moments, and that it was senseless for the Herr Oberst to kick his heels in a waiting room when he might be doing justice to a meal.

Gregory having agreed to this with another false smile, the car drove on towards the Wannsee quarter and pulled up out side a big private house in a fine residential district. The Major then left them and went inside: but as his chauffeur remained in the car it was impossible for Gregory and Freddie to slip away as they would have liked to have done.

Ten minutes later the Major came out again and beckoned to them from the doorstep. My business is done," he called, "and my friend invites you both to breakfast; he is anxious to meet the English flying officer."

There was nothing for it but that they should accept the invitation, so they got out and accompanied the Major into the house. The friend proved to be another officer of Black Guards; a fair, thin paunchy man with almost white eyelashes, whose name was Blauhoff. He spoke English well and,, while maintaining a smiling, urbane manner, questioned Charlton exhaustively; not so much upon the British Air Force, about which a flying officer would naturally be averse to disclosing any details, but regarding events in London and the state of England generally.

Freddie stood up to the ordeal well, as he had an unshakable conviction that Britain would win the war and that the Government was neglecting no possible opportunity to mobilize her resources with speed and efficiency.

In consequence, he came out of the business with credit and the German got little satisfaction from him. Even when Blauhoff made sarcastic remarks about the amazingly poor quality of British propaganda Charlton innocently assured him that although there was certainly a great deal of muddle at the Ministry of Information when it was first started that was only to be expected in a country where propaganda had been deemed quite unnecessary up to the outbreak of the war: and that, in any case, much more competent people were now being given jobs there, as a consequence of which his host could rest assured that in the long run it would function with extreme efficiency.

The talk then turned on Finland and the new crisis that had arisen there. News had just come through that the Finns had offered to withdraw their troops if the Russians would do the same; which demonstrated beyond question the Finns' pacific intentions. But Blauhoff said that he did not think that the Russians would accept the offer. In addition to a withdrawal of the Finnish Army they were demanding the surrender of certain islands in the Gulf of Finland which together with the bases that they had now established on the coast of Estonia would give them control of the whole of the Eastern Baltic; and now that they had decided to exert pressure on Finland again it looked as though they had made up their minds to have what they wanted.

Gregory and Freddie did not like their host at all but they could not quarrel with the breakfast he provided. It was an excellent meal and yet one more demonstration of the fact which Gregory already knew: that, however short of food the German people had to go, the Nazi officials denied themselves nothing.

When they had finished they all left the house together. Blauhoff drove off to his office while Putzleiger insisted upon driving his passengers back to the Air Ministry.

It was now just after eight o'clock and, knowing the early hour at which all Germans start work, Gregory thought it quite possible that Goering had by this time arrived at the Air Ministry; that is, if he was in Berlin at all a point upon which Gregory was by no means certain.

As they pulled up in front of the big building he extended his hand to the Major and thanking him for his kindness began to wish him a hearty farewell; but the Major would have none of it and insisted on accompanying them into the hallway, where Gregory was forced to make his inquiry for Goering in front of his jovial but infuriatingly persistent escort.

One of the uniformed clerks behind the long 'Inquiry' counter in the big hall informed them that the Field Marshal had not yet appeared so the Major promptly asked at what time he was expected. An inquiry was put through to one of Goering's secretaries and ten minutes later an answer came down that he would not be at the Ministry at all that day as he was staying at Karinhall. his house outside Berlin, but that anyone who had special business could go there and apply for an interview.

To Gregory's fury Putzleiger immediately said: "Come along, then, I will drive you out to Karinhall; it is no great distance."

"But really, Herr Major," Gregory protested, "I don't feel that we can trespass on your time like this."

"Not a bit of it, my dear fellow," came the prompt answer. "Now I'm in Berlin I shall spend the whole day here, but I have nothing at all to do this morning. In being of assistance to you I am serving our great Air Chief, and when you see him you might perhaps er casually mention my name in that connection. In any case it would be a pleasure to' see on safely to your destination."

In vain Gregory tried to persuade the Major that he had done more than enough for them butt he declared that he had never seen Goering's famous mansion, Karinhall, and that this was an excellent opportunity for him to do so. Quite clearly he had no intention of being deprived of it or of this chance of getting his name mentioned to Goering as a zealous Nazi, so yet again Gregory had to give in and they set off in the car once more, this time heading for the northern suburbs of the Capital.

Many of the smaller private traders in Berlin had already been forced to close their shops, which made the outer suburbs more than usually dreary and depressing, but they were soon out in the open country and the bright cold air helped to refresh Gregory and Freddie after the exhausting hours of their sleepless night. By half past nine they arrived at the gates of the seat park which surrounded the country residence that Goering had turned into a palace, rivalling those of the old kings of Prussia, by the almost limitless outpouring of some of the millions which were his share of the loot that the Nazis had taken from the German nation.

At the gates they were halted by grey clad members of Goering's special bodyguard and had to undergo a most rigorous questioning, but at last Putzleiger was given a pass for himself, his chauffeur and his car to enter the grounds and Gregory one for Charlton and himself to go up to the house. As an added precaution, apparently to see that none of them left the car while driving through the estate, one of the bodyguard jumped on the running board to accompany them.

They ran up the mile long drive and the bodyguard directed the chauffeur to a big car park at one side of the great mansion. As Putzleiger had not come on business he was told that he would not be allowed inside the house and their escort expressed his intention of accompanying him on a walk round the building; while Gregory and Charlton, having been questioned by yet another official, were directed to cross the great open space in front of the mansion and present their pass to the man on the front door. At last they were able to shake the Major off, and 'having parted from him with many expressions of goodwill they left the car park to walk across the open expanse of gravel.

It was the first time for many hours that Gregory and Freddie rod been alone and that the airman was able to give expression to the worry he was feeling. As Putzleiger had been present when Gregory had been questioned by the guards on the gate he had had to stick to his story that he was bringing a British Air officer prisoner whom the Field Marshal wished to question personally. They could not possibly, therefore, turn round and go out again without entering the building and between the car park and the front door of the mansion there was no place where they could conceal themselves.

A hundred yards away on the steps of the portico a small group of the grey clad guards had already noticed them and were eyeing them casually; and Freddie's first swift glance round the grounds had shown him that other guards were posted here and there in positions where they could keep a look out over the gardens, so it was out of the question to try to run for it; they would be shot before they had covered twenty yards. They could not go back and must go on, but he was grimly anticipating the moment when they got into the house and were questioned by somebody in authority. Gregory's story about Goering's wishing to see his prisoner would soon be found to be quite untrue and wherever he said that he came from a long distance telephone call would be quite sufficient to disclose the fact that he was not whom he said he was at all. The fat would then be in the fire with a vengeance.

He glanced anxiously at Gregory, who had lit a cigarette and was walking forward apparently quite unperturbed.

"Well," he asked in an undertone, "what the hell do we do now.

Gregory suddenly turned and grinned at him. "Why, since the Nazis have already provided us with two breakfasts this morning I think it would be a good day to take lunch off Goering."

"Oh, stop fooling" Freddie muttered angrily. "With all these damned guards about we daren't run for it, and once we're inside this place even your plausible tongue will never get us out."

"It is rather tricky, isn't it," Gregory admitted. "Just the toss of a coin as to whether we come out on our own feet or are carried out feet first. Of course, I could easily have held up old Putzleiger with my gun while you tackled the chauffeur on the way here. On a lonely stretch of road we could have tied them up, rolled them in the ditch and got away with their car."

"Then why in the name of thunder didn't you?"

"Because that wouldn't have enabled me to find out about

Erika or to get out of Germany. We'd only have been on the run again and risking our necks every moment of the day to no particularly good purpose; and it occurred to me that old Putzleiger might be Fate playing into our hands. I think this is he biggest gamble that I've ever taken, but now I'm here, by hook or by crook I mean to see Goering; after that our lives will probably depend upon the quality of the butter that he ate with his breakfast."

Chapter VIII

The Waiting Room of the Borgia

As Gregory and Charlton had been talking they had crossed the open space and were now at the foot of the steps leading up to the great pillared portico. The grey clad guards did not move forward to question them but the nearest gave the two visitors a long, searching look. It was the quiet, intent gaze that Gregory had noticed at times on the faces of good detectives when for the first time they saw a criminal who had just been arrested. He felt quite certain that the man was specially trained in remembering faces and that if he ever happened to run into Freddie or himself again he would know them instantly.

A uniformed porter was standing just inside the door and an officer of the guard was slowly walking up and down the great marble tiled hall. Gregory produced his pass and showed it to the porter. The officer turned in his stride, came over, glanced at it and motioned with his hand to a doorway on the right. They walked through it and entered a small office.

A shaven headed clerk with thick lensed spectacles was seated there behind a desk and taking Gregory's pass he gave him in exchange a yellow form. Gregory glanced down it and read: "Interview desired with… By appointment or not… Name of applicant, rank, etc… Business upon which interview is requested."

He took up a pen from the desk and instead of filling up the form simply wrote across it in German:

"If Your Excellency would examine the inscription on the back of the enclosed you will realize that the sender is in possess ion of information which is of importance to you."

Opening his greatcoat he then unpinned the Iron Cross which General Count von Pleisen had given him and, asking the clerk for an envelope, placed both the decoration and the form inside it. Having sealed the envelope he handed it back and said

"I shall be grateful if you will have that conveyed to the Field Marshall."

"The Field Marshall is extremely busy," replied the clerk officiously; "much too busy to deal personally with officers' grievances; so sending up your decoration won't do you any good."

Gregory suddenly became the autocratic Prussian officer in a manner that positively startled Freddie. He froze the clerk with an icy stare as he snapped: "How dare you assume that I am an officer with a grievance) Obey my order instantly or the Field Marshal shall hear of this."

The little Jack in office wilted visibly, banged a bell push on his desk and stuttered: "If the Herr Oberst will be pleased to wait in the next room an orderly shall take this up at once."

The adjoining room proved to be a very much larger apartment. Its colour scheme was blue and gold; its furnishings were rich and elegant. Wood fires on open grates a rarity in Germany were burning in two big fireplaces; papers, magazines and periodicals were scattered over a number of tables and the room contained between thirty and forty arm chairs and sofas. There were between a dozen and twenty people already in it, sitting about reading and smoking, so it would have resembled a rich man's club room had not the company been an extremely mixed one. There were several officers of the Reichswehr, Air Force and Black Guards, also a couple of well dressed civilians; but the presence of three women and a peasant in a leather jacket, together with the way in which they all refrained from speaking to one another and kept a watchful eye upon the door as though expecting to be called at any moment, gave it the atmosphere of a dentist's waiting room.

Gregory and Charlton selected an unoccupied sofa and sat down. How long they would have to wait they had no idea but 'it seemed probable that it would be a long time if all the people already gathered there had appointments with the Field Marshal. For ten minutes Gregory flicked over the pages of 'Simplissimus", smiling at the caricatures of Chamberlain, Churchill and John Bull, which were the most prominent 'feature of Germany's leading comic; then he yawned, moved over to an arm chair and, stretching out his feet, remarked:

"We may be here for hours yet so I think I'll get some sleep."

"Sleep?" echoed Freddie. "In this state of uncertainty 1 How can you?"

"Why not?" muttered Gregory. "We may be up again all to night."

"I only hope to God we are "

"So do I, since if we sleep at all to night it may be for good. D'you know that little rhyme?

`A man's not old when his hair turns grey,

A man's not old when his teeth decay,

But it's time he prepared for his last long sleep

When his mind makes appointments that his body can't keep.'

Well, thank God, I'm a long way from having got to that stage yet, so when the time comes you can trust me to put up a show all right, but while we're waiting a spot of shut eye won’t do either of us any harm. We'll be all the fresher for it when we lunch with the Field Marshal."

A major who was seated near by eyed them curiously, as they were speaking in English, but no one else took the least notice of them and while Freddie endeavoured to distract his racing thoughts by trying to puzzle out the captions beneath the pictures in a German illustrated paper Gregory drifted off to sleep.

They did not lunch with Goering. At intervals during the morning many occupants of the room were quietly summoned from the door and had disappeared not to return again, but new arrivals had taken their places and it remained just about as full as when Gregory and Charlton had first entered it. Then, shortly after midday, a portly servant arrived and announced in unctuous tones

"Damen and Herren Schaft, it is His Excellency's pleasure that you should receive his hospitality while you are waiting to be received; but I am asked to remind you that discretion regarding business matters should be observed while you are at table. Please to follow me."

Freddie roused Gregory and with the rest of the waiting company they followed the portly man down a corridor into a large dining room. Gregory's eye lit with appreciation as it fell upon a long sideboard on which was spread a fine, cold collation and, nudging his friend, he whispered:

"There! What did I tell you? Even if we are not lunching with the Field Marshal we are taking lunch off him."

"I wish I could be as certain about dinner," Freddie muttered.

"Oh, we'll probably dine with him personally. You must remember that I haven't had the chance to talk to him yet."

"You lunatic." Freddie suddenly laughed. "I can hardly believe that all this is real, you know. It'd be just like acting in a pantomime except for the kind of nightmare possibilities that lie behind it all."

Gregory grinned. "That's better. Just go on thinking of it that way. In any case, you've got nothing to fear so long as you're inside that uniform. They can only intern you."

"That's all very well, but I'm worried about you."

"Oh, I'm an old soldier. My motto always has been `Eat, drink and be merry, for to morrow we die', and those bottles over there look to me like excellent hock. Goering always does his friends well."

Freddie squeezed Gregory's arm. "Well, whatever happens, I'd like to tell you that I'm proud to have known you."

They had been standing a little apart but now they sat down at the long table and proceeded to enjoy the luncheon provided for them. There was very little general conversation, as the butler's reminder that the reasons for this strange company's having been brought together should not be discussed served to make everyone present extremely cautious. Remarks were confined to the barest civilities and as soon as the meal was over they were all shepherded back into the other room.

In spite of his anxiety Freddie was drowsy now; which, quite apart from the fact that he had been up all night, was not to be wondered at, seeing that during luncheon Gregory had deliberately filled him up with Liebfraumilch Kirkenstuck. By half past two quite a number of people who had arrived much later than themselves had been summoned to the presence, so it seemed as though Goering had his day mapped out and might not receive them for some time to come. In consequence, Freddie decided to follow Gregory's example and they both stretched themselves out in arm chairs, side by side, to get what rest they could.

Coffee and cakes were brought at four o'clock but both Gregory and Charlton refused them and dozed on until after five. People had been coming and going nearly all the afternoon but now the room was almost empty and by six they found themselves alone, which gave Freddie his first chance to speak freely and to ask a question that had been bothering him ever since the morning.

"Why should you be so certain that Goering will see you because you sent up your Iron Cross? He'll probably imagine, as the little clerk said, that you're just an old soldier with a grouse."

"Oh, no, he won't," Gregory smiled. "That Cross is a super visiting card. You see, every decoration has engraved on its back the name of the man upon whom it is conferred. My Iron Cross has von Pleisen's name on it, and von Pleisen was the head of the anti Nazi conspiracy, that darned nearly put paid to little old 'Hitler and all his works, just on three weeks ago. The second Goering sees that name he'll know that whoever has brought the Cross is well worth talking to."

"I get you. Darned good idea, that. But, all the same, isn't there a risk that it will never get further than one of his staff someone who'll just have us up and question us and once the cat is out of the bag put us through the hoop?"

"No. If that were liable to happen at all it would have happened already. Goering's got that Cross now and he's had it for hours; otherwise we should never have been kept waiting all this time. He has evidently decided to get through his routine work before he turns his attention to the intriguing little mystery as to why von Pleisen's Iron Cross should have been brought to him; but he'll personally see the man who brought it, all right."

"I must say that, in spite of everything, I'm looking forward to meeting him," Freddie remarked. "You see, aircraft has been my passion ever since I was old enough to collect toy aeroplanes and to read the simplest books about flying. In the last war the German pilots put up a magnificent show and, after von Richthofen, Goering was the best man they had, so he's always been one of my heroes. I never have been able to understand how such a brave sportsman got himself mixed up with these dirty, double crossing Nazis."

"It was through his intense patriotism," Gregory replied quickly. "He absolutely refused to believe that Germany was defeated in the field and still declares that the Army was let down by the home front. After the Armistice he was ordered to surrender the planes of his famous air circus to the Americans; instead, he gave a farewell party to all his officers at which they burnt their planes and solemnly pledged themselves to devote the rest of their lives to lifting Germany from humiliation to greatness again."

"Yes, I know all that. But why should such people have allied themselves with blackguards like Hitler and Goebbels and Himmler?"

"Goering has never really been in sympathy with Goebbels and Himmler in fact, they're poison to him but Hitler is another matter. Say what you like, Hitler has extraordinary personal magnetism. In 1922, after having failed to make any headway on his own, Goering heard Hitler speak at Munich. He realized at once that here was a fanatic with all a fanatic's power to influence the masses a man who was preaching the same doctrine as himself and one whose wild flights of oratory people would listen to, while they only shrugged their shoulders at his reasoned arguments. From that day they joined forces. Hitler did the talking while Goering secured for him his first really influential audiences and spent his own wife's fortune on entertaining for the Party, thereby giving Hitler a background that he had never had before. He is a brilliant organizer and it was he who planned, step by step, Hitler's rise to power. The very fact that the two men are utterly unlike in character makes them a perfect combination and Hitler owes every bit as much to Goering as Goering does to Hitler."

"Is that really so?" Freddie raised an eyebrow. "I thought Goering was just an honest, bluff fellow who had been a bit misled, and, having been the head of Hitler’s' personal bodyguard in the early days, had risen with him."

"Not a bit of it," Gregory laughed. "Hitler is the visionary the dreamer of great dreams; but he lacks courage both physically and mentally. He listens first to one man then to another and is always swayed in his opinions by the last commer. It's absolute torture to him to make decisions. Goering, on the other hand, is a realist a man of action, with an extraordinary ability to assess values and get right to the root of a matter almost instantly. He is a man of enormous energy and a tireless worker.

"While Hitler has lain in bed at Berchtesgaden as he does on many a morning staring out across the Bavarian Alps into a mythical future where by move after move Germany gains sufficient strength to dominate the world, Goering has one by one transformed those dreams of his mythical partner into realities.

"When Hitler came to power in 1933 Germany had not even an Air Ministry. Goering became Air Minister and immediately formed the Air Sports League for teaching young Germans to fly. Two years later he gave them uniforms and foreign statesmen woke up to the fact that without their knowing anything about it Germany had the strongest Air Force in the world an Air Force that has been a threat to the peace of Europe ever since. All that was done by Goering, secretly, swiftly and with incredible efficiency. He himself is not only an ace airman but a brilliant engineer. There are probably few people in the world who know more about the construction and engines of aircraft than Hermann Goering. He chose the types; he created the factories for the thousand and one parts and products necessary to build and supply this great fighting arm. Yet at the same time he was acting as Prime Minister of Prussia; re creating the German army, playing a great part in the diplomatic sphere and doing a hundred other jobs as well."

"Yes," Freddie murmured, "everyone knows that he holds scores of posts and has a different uniform for every day, but I had no idea that he was a really brainy chap; he doesn't look it."

Gregory grinned. "Take a good look at that fine head of his when you see him, and try to recall some of his earlier photographs when he wasn't quite so fat. The weight he's put on makes his appearance deceptive now, but doesn't affect the brains inside the skull. His forehead is not only broad but high and the width of his cranium from ear to ear gives him tremendous driving force for the application of his ideas. Nose, chin, eyes, ears and mouth are all beautifully balanced and any phrenologist will tell you that it is balance which prevents one quality in a man from developing to the detriment of others plus skull capacity that is the index of real power."

"Yes, I remember those early photographs but of, course, one has come to regard him since as the fat play boy of the Nazi Party who loves food and drink and showy splendour."

"He does," Gregory agreed; "and that's why he's far and away the most popular of the Nazi leaders. People like a jovial man who has human qualities and Goering has plenty of them. He's a romantic, too, and was desperately in love with his first wife, the beautiful Karin von Fock, after whom this place is named. Everyone knows that he adores his children and is passionately fond of animals. He has made it a penal offence to destroy many kinds of birds and to ill treat dogs and horses; yet he is utterly ruthless so far as human life is concerned. In any spot of bother his orders always are, `Shoot first and inquire afterwards'. In addition to organizing Germany 's Five Year Plan for the reconditioning of every single industry in the country he has organized every Putsch and blood bath for which the Nazis have been responsible. That's why the Germans have nicknamed him `Iron Hermann'.'°

"What an extraordinary mixture he must be."

"No. It's just that he was born out of his time. He ought to have been a Spanish conquistador or a Saracen general like Suliman the Magnificent. They recognized only those who were for their religion or their country, and were capable of the most incredible barbarities against anyone who opposed them. He has the same mentality. Just like them, too, he has a passion for personal adornment and love of surrounding himself with riches and splendour. After all, the gilt and marble of this place is only the modern version of a Borgia's palace and, as you know, beneath such places there were always dungeons, torture chambers and an execution room."

Freddie Charlton shivered slightly as he glanced round the great apartment with its rich carpet and ornate furnishings. It seemed impossible to believe that perhaps. under their very feet there lay cells where men suffered and died; and that before the night was out he and Gregory might be thrown into them. Yet he knew that Gregory was right.

Unnoticed, the door had opened quietly behind them and a voice suddenly said: "His Excellency, the Field Marshal, will receive the Herr Oberst now."

Chapter IX

"He Who Sups With the Devil Needs a Long Spoon"

THEY both stood up and Freddie followed Gregory to the door, but the official raised his ‘hand.

"It is only the Colonel whom His Excellency has consented to receive."

Gregory glanced at Freddie and said in English: "He doesn't know anything about you yet, as I didn't wish to confuse the issue by mentioning that I had brought anyone with me. You'd better wait here, I think."

It was the first time since the plane had been shot down nearly three weeks before that the two had been called upon to face the possibility of a permanent separation, and in that instant Freddie really realized how much he had come to admire Gregory and to depend on him. But now that the moment had come when he was to be left alone to face whatever fate had in store for him he did not allow any trace of his apprehension to show. With a calmness that, in turn, won Gregory's admiration e just smiled and said:

"Well, good luck. I'll be seeing you."

Gregory smiled back. "Don't worry about me if I'm a long time in fact, you can take it that the longer I am the better things will be going.

The official led Gregory across the hall to a lift which rose with the speed of an American installation; then down a corridor and into a room where two of the grey clad bodyguard were sitting. They immediately stood up and while one said politely, "Permit me to relieve you of your pistol, Herr Oberst," the other, murmuring, "You will excuse this formality," slipped his hands under Gregory's armpits, from behind, and down over his pockets to his hips to make sure that he was not carrying any other weapon. He handed over his automatic and submitted smilingly to the swift patting of the expert frisker, then the first man beckoned him to a great pair of double doors and, tiptoeing forward, gently opened one of them.

Next moment Gregory found himself in Goering's vast, dimly lit study. The door closed softly behind him and he walked forward across a great empty space of thick pile carpet, vaguely glimpsing the big pictures that adorned the walls portraits of Frederick the Great, Bismarck, Mussolini, Kaiser Wilhelm II, von Richthofen, the ex Crown Prince, Napoleon, Balbo and Hitler but his mind was on the powerful figure at

the very end of the room; seated behind a fine table desk. On it there were no papers; only writing impedimenta and a scribbling block, flanked by two great silver candelabra holding a forest of tall, lighted, wax candles.

From them came the only light in the great apartment but it threw up the big head, forceful face and enormous shoulders of the Marshal. Behind him there was a panel of flaming red and gold, in the centre of which was suspended a huge executioner's sword his symbol, since it was he who had reintroduced beheading into Germany as a quick, clean death for those who differed from him in their political opinions.

Gregory had ample time to observe these details as he covered the distance between the door and the desk, but immediately he came sharply to attention in front of it Goering wasted no time.

Displaying the Iron Cross in his hand he said:

"Where did you get this?"

"It was given to me, Excellency, by General Count von, Pleisen himself."

"Why?"

"For services rendered, Excellency."

"When?"

"At eight o'clock on the night of November the 8th."

Goering raised an eyebrow. "What service did you render?"

"I brought him the list of the Inner Gestapo, whose duty it is to spy upon the high officers of the Army, and a letter from the Allied statesmen guaranteeing Germany a new deal if the Army leaders would overthrow Hitler and sponsor a freely elected Government."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Gregory Sallust. I am an ex officer of the last war, now employed as a British Secret Service agent."

"You must know that by making such disclosures to me you have signed your own death warrant."

"Yes. Excellency?"

"Then why do you come here?"

"Because I'm in love."

For a second Goering frowned but Gregory's unwavering gaze held his and he saw that his apparently crazy visitor was, after all, not mad. His face relaxed a trifle as he said:

"Well, why should you virtually throw away your life by coming to me about it?"

"Because, Excellency, I believe you to be the only man in Germany who may be able ‘to give me the information that I am so anxious to have about the woman I care for more than anything in the world."

Goering sat back and thrust his hands into the pockets of his breeches. "Give you information? All I'm going to give you, my rash friend, is a bullet."

"Naturally Excellency. I am prepared for that. All I ask is that you will be generous enough to give me the information first and the bullet afterwards."

Suddenly Goering laughed. "Lieber Gott! You must love this woman pretty desperately."

"I do, Excellency. I have had a most interesting life and, for the times in which we live, a reasonably long one. She is now the only thing that matters to me and if I can find out what has happened to her I am quite prepared to die."

"Mr. Sallust, you are a brave man."

"People have been kind enough to say so, Excellency." "Very well. Who is this woman?"

"Erika von Epp."

"Who?" Goering jumped to his feet with a swiftness amazing in a man of his bulk. "Who did you say?"

It was the decisive moment and Gregory brought all his biggest guns to bear in the attack. `I spoke of that old friend of yours for whom you imported a hundred cases of French champagne free of duty, only just before the war Cliquet 1928, several bottles of which I enjoyed with her at Das Kleine Schloss, in Munich of the lovely girl for whose sake you protected the Jewish armaments millionaire, Hugo Falkenstein, until he was fool enough to quarrel with Hitler of the clever woman who was invaluable to you in your secret negotiations with her friends among the Army chiefs of that amazing Erika who is as brave, as generous and as unscrupulous as yourself; who is more beautiful than either the Dietrich or the Garbo and yet has said that if fate permitted she would divorce the Count von Osterberg in order to become Mrs. Gregory Sallust."

"So!" As Goering brought the word out he lowered himself into his chair again. For a moment he sat silent, then his whole manner changed completely. He spoke reminiscently, as one old friend to another. "Life was a hard school for Erika, as it was for all of us Hochwohlgeboren Germans after the last war. When Falkenstein died she swore that she would never love again and I would have bet a million on it. Her marriage to von Osterberg was made only to please her father before he died and the Count agreed to give ‘her absolute freedom. If it is true that she is prepared to divorce him and marry you an Englishman you must be a very remarkable man."

"As I shall shortly be facing a firing squad there can be no point in my either concealing or distorting the facts, Excellency."

Goering smiled. "No. From the look of you I should think that you could be the Prince of Liars on occasion, but men like you do not lie on matters like this. So Erika really wanted to marry you? I must say that that fact alone makes me wish to know more about you. Sit down and help yourself to a cigarette."

"Thank you," said Gregory with a relief that he did not show. He felt that now he had succeeded in intriguing the Marshal he had at least cleared the first fence in his audacious plan. The cigarette that he took from the lapis lazuli box was fat, round and long. The first puff of it told a connoisseur like Gregory that it was made of the very finest Macedonian tobacco. He said appreciatively:

"I haven't had anything so good as this to smoke since I entered Germany when I had to chuck away all I had left of my own Sullivan’s."

"They still come through," Goering shrugged, "and as the war progresses it will become still easier to obtain them."

"That opinion is not shared in high quarters in London," Gregory remarked amiably. As though he had touched a spring, the Marshal suddenly became alive dynamic:

"Of course not! They think they've got us with their blockade, don't they? That all they have to do is to sit tight on the Maginot Line and hold the seas and that Germany will gradually be starved into surrender as she was in 1918. But they're wrong. In 1918 Germany and her allies formed one block entirely surrounded by enemy countries with the exception of outlets through Holland, Denmark and Sweden. To day only one of Germany ’s frontiers is definitely closed by an enemy army the French frontier from Luxembourg to Basle. From any other quarters we can draw supplies to supplement the vast stocks that we laid in before the war and our internal arrangements for making the most of our own resources are infinitely better, so we can carry on for years; and it is I who tell you this I, Hermann Goering who planned it all."

Gregory bowed, feeling it a good sign that the Marshal seemed so willing to discuss the war, and went on: "Your amazing organizing abilities are well known, Marshal, to anyone who is even slightly acquainted with the new Germany; but what is going to happen when a real war starts?"

"You mean a Blitzkrieg or the launching of a campaign on the lines of the last war entailing the movement of hundreds of thousands of men?"

"Yes. I can well believe that you have very wisely anticipated your normal requirements in vital commodities for a number of years and that with the supplies you can acquire through neutrals you will be able to ensure your population sufficient food to keep them from open revolt almost indefinitely; but once a total war breaks out you will have to use millions of gallons of petrol a day to keep your huge air force in the air and will be called on to replace the enormous wastage of munitions, tanks, equipment. Are you quite so sure that the structure won't then crack under the strain?"

Goering smiled grimly. "Like most other people you still think in terms of 1914-18. But this is a different kind of war and we hold the trump cards because of our geographical position and, to be frank, our lack of scruple. If we choose we can carry the war into Norway, Sweden. Denmark, Holland, Belgium, Switzerland, Hungary or Rumania, any day we wish, and overrun these countries before the Democracies could possibly establish defensive fronts in them. That is why all these little nations must continue to do what we tell them whether they like it or not. On the other hand, the Democracies cannot attack as through any of our neutral neighbours, because that would mean abandoning their high principles. For the same reason they cannot threaten them and therefore cannot get the assistance out of them that we can."

"I appreciate your frankness, Marshal, in admitting that Germany is prepared to use methods which are quite obviously debarred to the Democracies."

"Why should I not be frank with you? Britain and France can't have it both ways. During the peace they made the League of Nations their instrument used it in a thousand ways to further their own interests under the guise of securing the so called rights of the small nations. Now there is war how can they throw overboard the League and all the commitments with which it has landed them? In consequence the Democracies fight with one hand tied behind their backs whereas we, who have never pretended to have any other aim but to secure for Germany her rightful place in the world, fight with both hands free."

"That, admittedly, gives you a big advantage for the time being," Gregory nodded, "but in the event of a great land offensive the whole situation might change entirely."

"Who said there would ever be a great land offensive? The

Democracies do not wish to repeat the blood baths of the Somme and Paschendaele so they certainly will not attack our Western Wall which is infinitely stronger than any of our defensive lines in the last war. And where else can they attack us? Nowhere; without infringing the neutrality of one of the small nations and thereby having world opinion swing against them. They won't do that, so it's up to us; and it might suit us best to remain on the defensive while we develop the resources of our neighbours until the point is reached where we are entirely independent of the outside world."

"Fortunately or unfortunately, as the case may prove I gather that some of your more impatient colleagues are not in agreement with such a policy?" Gregory replied.

"No," Goering admitted angrily. `The fools cannot see that, given a little time, Germany will be in just as strong a position as if the Reich extended from the northern coast of Norway to the Black Sea and that, mark you, without the unnecessary sacrifice of a single man or plane. These neutrals, countries which comprise by far the largest part of Europe, dare not resist any reasonable demand that we choose to make; and what more could we possibly ask? To march into them would only mean the destruction of their economic systems; whereas while we refrain from waging war upon them their industries remain going concerns which are being used for the benefit of the Reich."

It was grand strategy upon the Napoleonic scale, and Gregory admitted to himself the sense and force of the Marshal's argument but he was given little time to ponder it as Goering went on almost at once, with a change of tone:

"But we're not here to discuss the European situation. Tell me as briefly as you can what you've been doing in Germany."

Gregory very wisely refrained from saying that it would take the whole evening to do justice to the full story of his adventures, but he was an excellent raconteur and he meant to attempt the game by which Scheherazade, in the Arabian Nights, managed to postpone her execution from day to day believing that although he had no chance of keeping Goering amused for a thousand and one evenings his tale would still be incomplete when the Marshal's next appointment was due and he would reprieve his audacious visitor until after at least one more session or perhaps two by which time it was unlikely that he would be quite so fixed in his determination to have the story teller shot. In consequence Gregory started at the first week of the war when as an old soldier he had been desperately anxious to get back into the Army but found himself unable to do so owing to his being over the age limit for a new commission or even acceptance as a private.

That won Goering's sympathy at once and he listened intently as Gregory spoke of the joy, at such a time of dejection, with which he had accepted the most unexpected offer of a secret mission that would enable him to serve his country. He told the story of his first secret visit to Germany, his meeting with Erika von Epp and his escape only to be interned in Holland, with such vividness that Goering alternately bellowed with laughter as he heard of the impudent tricks by which Gregory had escaped arrest or nodded with the appreciation of one brave man for another as he learned how Gregory had shot his way out of the traps which the Gestapo had set for him.

By the time Gregory had reached the point in his adventures where he found himself caught and about to be murdered by Marxists in the East End of London there was quite a pile of cigarette butts in the big ash tray; yet Goering remained enthralled and with obvious annoyance drew a telephone receiver from a hidden ledge under his desk in answer to a low buzzing.

"What's that?" he said. "A quarter past eight? Gott im Himmel They have been waiting dinner for me for a quarter of an hour? All right. Tell them that I am still in conference. Lay places for two in the private dining room, bring cocktails now and have dinner ready in a quarter of an hour."

Replacing the receiver he looked across at Gregory. "I have guests, but this house is always full of people and for once they must do without me at all events till later. I wouldn't, for anything in the world, miss hearing the rest of your extraordinary exploits. You must dine with me."

Gregory hid his inward satisfaction as he bowed his thanks. One really long, uninterrupted session with Goering was even better than several short ones between which the mood of his dynamic listener might change, and already he felt confident that he had the situation so well in hand that the unpleasant subject of shooting parties would not be raised again. He was conceited enough to look forward to the expression on Freddie, Charlton's face when the airman learned that Goering had actually abandoned his guests to entertain him privately and he hoped that Freddie was not feeling the suspense of his long wait too badly. If Goering was the sportsman Gregory believed him to be they would both be given a safe conduct out of Germany and, if Erika was still alive, be able to take her with them.

Champagne cocktails were brought by a white coated barman who mixed, them as required on a trolley that he had wheeled in. "Don't take any notice of that fellow," said Goering, tossing off the first, "but go on with your story. He's a deaf mute that's why I gave him his job."

In the next quarter of an hour Gregory got as far as his departure for Paris in search of Madame Dubois and they sank three champagne cocktails apiece; then a butler appeared and announced that His Excellency was served. Goering jumped up and with a purposeful stride led the way across the corridor to a small private dining room that was furnished in red and gold,

"What will you drink?" he asked at once. " Champagne or hock?"

"If I were dining with anyone else I'd say champagne but with you I would prefer to drink hock."

With a shrewd glance at his guest Goering said: "I see you're a connoisseur," and turning to the butler he ordered: "Have a couple of bottles of my Marcobrunner Cabinet 1900 sent up.'

"1900" murmured Gregory. "By Jove l I didn't know that there were any 1900 hocks still in existence."

Goering had already started on the hors d'oeuvre. "I have a little, and it's remarkable how these great wines last. The mailer ones would have turned to dish water years ago but this s still perfect marvellous."

I remember drinking some of the famous '68's when I was a boy and although they were then over forty years old they hadn't turned a hair. My father had some of the '68 Schloss Johannesburg."

"Beautiful-beautiful; I, too. remember drinking that classic vintage when I was a boy. There are no wines in the world to touch our great German wines."

"There I thoroughly agree with you," Gregory smiled, "and the proof of the pudding is in the eating. People talk about burgundy as the king of wines but I've never heard of anyone paying more than two pounds for a classic burgundy, yet one must pay six pounds a bottle if one wants the very finest hock."

The bulky Marshal preened himself as though he, instead of Charlemagne, was personally responsible for the creation of the great vineyards on the Rhine. "Six pounds he said, "I'd pay ten to anybody who could find me more of some of the rarities I've got."

When the bottles of Marcobrunner arrived Gregory noticed that they bore the supreme honour paid only to superlative products of the vineyards which is very rarely seen outside Germany or even in it gold foil under their capsules, covering the whole of their long necks. When his glass had been filled he sniffed the wine and sipped it slowly. It was a dark golden colour and almost as heavy as Tokay with that wonderful flavour of subdued richness that only great age can give to a wine which has been sweet as honey when young.

"Don't play with it, man drink it! " said Goering genially. "There's plenty more in the bottles." He took two big mouthfuls, rinsing it round his mouth with delight. "That's the way to get the real flavour of a wine."

"Since we have a bottle apiece I promise you I won't leave a sip in mine," Gregory assured him with a smile; "I was only prolonging this amazing treat. There's nothing I can say about the wine; it is beyond all praise."

"Good. Now, don't take any notice of the servants but go on with your story."

While the rich courses came and went Gregory described his second war time visit to Germany and the meal was finished before he had reached the point where Hans Foldar's cottage was attacked. The two bottles were now empty of their priceless contents and for the first time in many minutes Goering interrupted to ask

"Will you have cognac or kirsch?"

"Kirsch, thanks," said Gregory at once. He did not doubt that the Marshal's cognac was of the same regal quality as his hock but he knew that the Germans had the extraordinary habit of icing fine brandy which in his opinion entirely ruined its flavour and old kirsch being a liqueur in which rich Germans specialize he thought it a safer and more interesting bet.

"Right, then." Goering stood up. "We'll move back to the other room and drink our liqueurs there."

When they reached his splendid sanctum he took up a position in front of the mantelpiece with his legs splayed wide apart' and his hands thrust deep into his breeches pockets. "Go on," he said. "How did you manage to get that colonel's uniform and make your way back to Berlin?"

As Gregory told him he frowned when he heard of von Lutz's death, for he had known and liked the Baron; but he laughed uproariously when he heard how Ober Lieutenant Wentsich and Major Putzleiger had assisted in getting the fugitives safely out of the district in which they were being hunted.

"And now," said Gregory when he had finished his story, "as

Erika is such an old friend of yours I feel sure you must know what has happened to her. Is she alive or dead?" "Alive."

"Thank God for that. Is she in prison?"

"No." Goering grinned. "Directly the Putsch failed she had the impudence to come straight to me. I ought to have had her shot she deserved it; but you know what she is she talked me into getting her safely out of the country to Finland. She has relatives living in Helsinki the von Kobenthals."

"You did? Well done! I had an idea that she'd come to you and I felt certain that if she did you'd help her."

"Why? There'd have been hell to pay if theFührer

had heard that I let her go. And think of the capital that might have been made out of such a story if Himmler or von Ribbentrop had got to hear of it Those who are not for us are against us. Death is their portion, and at my hands they get it; old friends or new it is all the same. The enemies of the Party are my enemies. She's an enemy of the Party and what induced me to spare her I can't think."

"I can. And it wasn't sentiment." The champagne cocktails, the potent old hock and the kirsch that he was drinking had given Gregory complete self confidence, so he added: "You've had too many of your old friends shot for anyone to believe that you would allow sentiment to sway you."

"What was it, then?"

"Your genius for statecraft. You still talk about the Party is though it were a single entity just as Stalin still talks of himself as a Communist, although he's nothing of the kind. You now as well as I do that there are now two Parties in Germany. you, von Raeder and the Generals are now at daggers drawn with von Ribbentrop, Himmler and the pro Russians; while Hitler, whose opinions are taken one day from one group and another day from the other, gradually shrinks into the background."

"Do you dare to insinuate that I am conspiring against myFührer?" Goering's big face was black and threatening.

"No. I believe that you are loyal to him but that circumstances are proving too strong for you. Every day Hitler becomes more and more of a cipher. While he sits there brooding in Berchtesgaden, constantly vacillating, utterly unable to make up his mind which of half a dozen policies he ought to follow whole heartedly, you have found yourself forced to take an ever

greater degree of power into your own hands."

Goering sighed. "There may be something in that, but I'm no traitor."

"I didn't suggest that you were; and there would be no cause for you to be if, as in the old days, Hitler's advisers were united; but now that they have split into two almost equally powerful camps you feel that in protecting yourself you're protecting Germany. You need all the support you can get to counter the moves of your enemies and to strengthen your hand for the day when the great show down comes. That's why you spared Erika. Consciously or subconsciously you knew that she would be on your side and that as she is a woman of immense influence she could be useful."

"Gott im Himmel, Sallust You're right although I hate to have to admit it. For a foreigner you know a lot about us."

"Perhaps I know a little more than most foreigners, but not much. You forget that owing to your Press here being controlled the German people know very little of what goes on behind the scenes; in England we have our sources of information and all the broader issues are freely published. It's common knowledge in every English village that you and von 'Ribbentrop are at each other's throats over this Russian business.

The rich wines and subtle liqueur had also loosened Goering's tongue. "That madman " he exclaimed, suddenly giving way to furious rage. "Think what he has done think! think! He has lost us Italy, Spain, Japan and for what? These filthy Russian murderers who do nothing but stab us in the back; who can't send us one tenth of the supplies they promised, as anyone who had travelled on their railways let alone seen our secret service reports must have known. And look at the Baltic l Think of the disgrace, the loss of prestige in Germany 's having to withdraw her communities that have been settled in the Baltic ports for centuries. And now this lunatic is urging Adolph to stage a Blitzkrieg. I only managed to stop that attack on Holland planned for the end of last month at the very last moment. What the hell do we want to attack Holland for or any other neutral country when, as I said only before dinner, we already have all these little peoples in the bag?

"And think of launching a Blitzkrieg at this time of year

I've a handful of ace pilots whom I can use for raids on English shipping, because they've done commercial flying over the North Sea for years, but in winter conditions most of my boys would lose themselves before they got half way to London. It's crazy even to contemplate such a thing before the spring, and even then, it's taking a hellish gamble with my air force."

"I know," Gregory agreed. "Your game is to keep your air force intact as a constant threat which can be directed against any quarter just as we kept our Grand Fleet intact in the last war. By risking it in a major action you've got everything to lose and nothing to gain."

"Of course. But people like von Ribbentrop don't know the first thing about grand strategy. He doesn't even know his own damned job; yet the fool must interfere with mine and constantly reiterate: `We've got the finest air force in the world so why shouldn't we use it?"

"Well, sooner or later you'll…" Gregory broke off short as the low buzzer sounded, and striding to his desk Goering picked up the telephone from the ledge under it.

"Hullo… what's that?… They have… Well, tell the Soviet Ambassador from me that they'll get more than they bargained for if the Finns call their bluff. Telephone that through at once and urge that no further step should be taken until lie has seen me, and make an appointment for His Excellency to call on me at my flat in the Air Ministry as early as possible tomorrow morning."

He slammed down the receiver and turned back with a scowl to Gregory. "More trouble. The Russians have just broken off he broadcast of a musical programme to make a special announcement denouncing their seven year old non aggression pact with Finland."

"That's bad," said Gregory. "D'you think they really mean business?"

"I'm afraid so. And Finland is another sphere of German influence. There are many Germans settled there. It will be a further blow to our prestige if we have to bring them home. I must think now what I can do to counteract this new aggravation with which von Ribbentrop's pro Russian policy has landed us."

He strode up and down the room for a moment, then suddenly moved over to a bell and pressed it. He now showed not the least trace that he had drunk anything stronger than water as he spoke with abrupt detachment:

"Our talk has been most interesting but I can't give you any more of my time. I've told you what you want to know about Erika and, of course, it's quite impossible for me to release you, but I'm sure that you'll meet your end like a brave man."

For once in his life Gregory was taken utterly by surprise. When he first entered that room a little before seven o'clock he knew quite well that the odds were on his being sent out of it again within a few moments, straight down to the cells, and that his death would almost inevitably follow within a matter of hours. But every moment that he managed to remain there it had seemed that the odds of his eventually walking out of the room a free man had risen, until once he had got Goering interested in his story he considered that the chances were a good three to one in his favour. On his being asked to dine, which would give him at least another hour alone with the Marshal, he had felt confident that he was safe, apart from one chance in fifty that he might slip up in some unforeseen manner which would anger or insult his host. When dinner was done he had believed that even that last fence was safely past. They had drunk as much as would have put most ordinary men under the table, but they were both hardened drinkers so they could stand it, though it had loosened their tongues, filled them with wellbeing and created an atmosphere in which they had been talking and laughing as freely as if they were old friends. Before the telephone rang Gregory would have bet all Lombard Street to a china orange that he would leave the Marshal not only with a safe conduct for Charlton and himself in his pocket but also with facilities to rejoin Erika if he wished to do so.

"Well?" asked Goering sharply. "What are you staring at?"

"You," said Gregory. "You can't really mean that you're going to have me shot after.

The door at the far end of the room opened. Two of the grey guards stepped inside and came sharply to attention.

Goering shrugged. "Of course I am. What else did you expect? You're a very dangerous man and on your own confession you have committed enough acts against the German Reich to justify any court in condemning you to death a dozen times."

"I realize that," said Gregory swiftly, "but all's fair in love and war. The only difference between us as soldiers of fortune is that you're the greater and have been responsible for more deaths in the service of your country than I have in the service of mine. I confess that I'd hoped that once we had drunk wine together you'd let that weigh more with you than the fact that I've killed a dozen or so of your people. After all, with a world war on, what do a few lives matter between men like us whether they are lost on the battlefield or anywhere else?"

"They do not matter at all." Goering drew quickly on his cigarette. "But what does matter is that I should have talked to you so freely. Surely you don't think that I'd have done so if I'd had the least intention of allowing you to live?" With a swift gesture of his hand he signed to the guards to come forward.

Chapter X

Grand Strategy

GREGORY now knew that he had been a fool to allow that rich wine and Goering's confidences to lull him into a false sense of security. Had `Iron Hermann' drunk twice as much it would still not have deflected his judgment or influenced in the least any decision that he had already taken.

This was only one more proof of what Gregory himself had told Freddie Charlton earlier in the evening. Goering had a type of mentality no longer understood in civilized countries; the power to enjoy one moment and work the next without allowing his relations in one sphere to affect those in the other, although this division of his waking hours into watertight compartments often produced results which any modern person would stigmatize as utterly barbaric. Like a prince of the Renaissance he could derive enormous pleasure in supping with an amusing companion and experience the most friendly feelings for him, yet send the same man to torture and death an hour later because it seemed expedient to do so, and go to bed thinking of neither one act nor the other but of what he meant to do to morrow.

The guards were already striding down the long room. Gregory knew that he had not a second to lose and that any form of pleading was utterly useless. He cursed himself for a brainless fool for having wasted all these precious hours when he had had Goering on his own and might have thrown out a dozen hints of secret knowledge which would have intrigued the Marshal so that, at worst, he would have been put in cold storage for the night or until Goering could spare the time to give him a second interview. As it was, like any cocksure boy who had pulled off a cheap triumph he had been content to drink and laugh and boast about his own adventures.

His thoughts raced furiously, flashing one after the other through his mind with the speed of lightning, as was always the case when he was faced with a great emergency; yet it was not until the two guards came stiffly to attention, one on either side of him, that he spoke again.

"All right; just as you wish. I'll leave you to tackle the problem of Finland on your own, then."

Goering's jaw dropped at this supreme impertinence. “ Finland ' " he said. "What the hell do you know about Finland?"

"More than you do," lied Gregory with amazing calmness. "D'you think they'll fight?" asked the Marshal with sudden interest. '

"Yes if they're properly handled."

"What do you mean by that?"

Gregory shrugged. "Send these men away and I'll tell you."

"If this is just an excuse to delay your execution and waste my time I'll give orders that you're to be made to rue the day you were born before you're finally shot."

"That's a deal. If I can prove to you that I'm worth listening to I get a straight bullet, but if you consider that I've wasted your time you hand me over to your thugs to do what they like with me.

"Do you understand what you may be letting yourself in for?"

"I've got a pretty shrewd idea."

Goering signed to the guards. "You may go. Now, Sallust, I'm ready to let you teach one of the leading statesmen of Europe his business if you can."

Gregory relaxed, physically but not mentally. He knew that he was up against it as he had never been in his life before. Helping himself to another of the big Turkish cigarettes, he said: "May I have a map of Europe and another drink?"

"Certainly." The Marshal reached behind him and pressed a bell; then in six strides he crossed the room and flicked a switch which released a square of gorgeous tapestry. It whipped up on guides, disappearing through a slit at the top of the panel, to disclose a great map of Europe lit by concealed lighting. As he stepped back the white clad, deaf mute barman appeared wheeling in his trolley, which held the same array of bottles with the addition of a magnum of champagne in an ice bucket.

"What would you like?" Goering asked; but his voice was no longer cordial. The question was put with the curt formality that he might have used when asking a clerk if a telegram had been dispatched. He no longer showed the least trace of the alcohol he had drunk and his eyes were hard as he moved over to the trolley with brisk efficiency.

” Champagne, please," said Gregory, and at a sign from Goering the deaf mute opened the magnum. As soon as two goblets had been filled he signed to the man again to leave them and turned back to Gregory.

"Now let's hear what you've got to say about Finland."

Gregory took a drink, set down his glass and began to speak with a clarity and rapidity that made it very difficult to interrupt him. "You know what happened to Russia after the last world war. Four years of revolution and civil war devastated the country from end to end. When the Reds at last succeeded in suppressing the Whites so much blood had been spilled that Russia was utterly exhausted. Her whole social structure was in ruins; added to which, the Bolsheviks had not a friend in the world who would assist them with loans or trade or technical experts to help them bring order out of chaos. After their defeat in the Polish campaign of 1920 they abandoned all idea of trying to carry Communism across Europe by fire and sword. The only thing they could do was to crawl back into their own kennel, lick their wounds, clean it up as best they could and endeavour to keep themselves free of further quarrels. The one thing they needed was peace-peace internal and external; not five years of peace but fifty; a solid half century of peace during which they could exploit the vast resources of their enormous territories in the same way that the Americans exploited the United States in the '6o's and '70's of the last century so that in time they might become as rich as the United States and as independent.

"From 1920 on they realized that they had everything to lose by risking further wars. The only thing that they had to fear was an attack while they were still devoting all their energies to the construction of the new Russia. In consequence, the whole of Russian strategy, directed by Marshal Voroshilov, has since then been based upon the defensive; in the belief that Russia might be called upon to resist aggression herself but would never,- never become an aggressor."

"Yes, yes, I know all that," Goering broke in impatiently.

"Of course you do; but I must state the basic facts if I am to tell you anything," Gregory replied, quite unperturbed, and he rapidly continued. "After the World War Germany also was left exhausted and disorganized, but owing to the fact that she was far in advance of Russia before the World War opened she was able to recover much more quickly. With the coming to power of the National Socialist Party Germany began to grow strong again. By 1935 it was obvious to every thinking man that in a few more years she would once more constitute a threat to the peace of Europe; and such people began to ask themselves what form that threat would take.

"Would Germany endeavour to revenge herself for her defeat by entering into another death struggle with the Western Powers or would she march East into Poland, Czechoslovakia and the Ukraine? Nobody knew for certain, but the Nazi leader s made it abundantly clear, by the Anti Comintern Pact and practically every speech they made, that they considered Bolshevism as their implacable enemy.

"Stalin has no reason whatever to love Britain, France or Italy but he had no reason to fear an attack from any of them… In any case, they were too far removed from Russia ’s frontiers to cause him a moment's worry. Japan might give him a certain amount of trouble, but only in the Far East, and every other nation was either too weak or too remote to constitute a serious menace, with the one exception of Germany.

"Hitler had written in Mein Kampf that Germany should. turn her eyes eastward, to the great corn lands and oil wells of the Ukraine and Caucasus. Hitler had gained power and with every week he was growing stronger. Right up to the summer of 1939 Stalin must have regarded Germany as the one and only enemy really to be feared. Germany alone was in a position to nullify his twenty years of peaceful reconstruction and bring his whole regime crashing about his ears at any time she chose to launch her land, sea and air forces against him."

"I know, I know," Goering frowned. "This is all elementary, but the Russo German Pact of last August altered the whole situation."

"No," Gregory declared emphatically. "That is my whole point. In all essentials Russia ’s situation is exactly the same as it was this time last year. Use large maps, as the Duke of Wellington used to say. Don't think of this year or the next but regard the matter in terms of long scale policy. The Russo German pact has altered nothing. If it has I challenge you to prove it."

Goering shrugged. "While I don't say that I, personally, was in favour of it you can't deny that we have received certain definite benefits by our alliance with Russia. By keeping her from a tie up with the Democracies we have only to wage war on one front instead of on two. Now that the Polish campaign is aver we can concentrate the whole of our air effort against the rest instead of having to detach large forces to protect Berlin. Even if we haven't succeeded in drawing Russia into the war on our side, by making her a friendly neutral we've ensured that she won't come in against us."

"Have you ensured that? How much faith do you put in the word of Joseph Stalin?"

"Not much; but it is not in his interest now to reverse his policy and deliberately stab us in the back."

"Not for the moment, perhaps; but say the war takes a fresh turn? I don't have to tell you how easily pacts can be torn up when they are signed by certain people and it suits those people to scrap them. I consider that it's quite a possibility that Russia may turn against you unless, of course, you can keep her occupied."

"Eh?" Goering's alert mind instantly picked up the hint. Gregory was literally talking for his life and now knowing that he had won a point in at last arousing the Marshal's interest he went on quickly:

"I'll come to that later. What else do you reckon that you've got out of this tie up with the Bolsheviks?"

"We can draw on them for foodstuffs and later when we have reorganized their railways we shall be able to obtain almost unlimited supplies of raw materials which will nullify the British blockade."

Gregory shook his head. "I don't believe that. You're getting a certain amount of stuff, of course Stalin has to put up some sort of a show but his industrial system is still so ill organized that he has a perfectly good excuse for not helping you to any appreciable extent. And even if you send hundreds of experts there their efforts will deliberately be sabotaged for the simple reason that Stalin does not mean you to win this war."

"What grounds have you for saying that?"

"Simply that from his point of view this war is only an episode a struggle in which he does not wish to be concerned. It may prove either inconvenient or useful to him, according to how he plays his cards in his long term policy for the reconstruction of Russia; which is the only thing that really interests

"And what do you deduce from this?"

"That the Russo German friendship pact is not worth the paper it is written on; it was just one of Stalin's cards and a very high one. He still regards Germany as his only really dangerous, potential enemy. If she emerges from the present struggle victorious his situation will be worse than ever. You know Hitler's technique. With the Western Powers disposed of he might suddenly decide to rescue the German speaking population of South Russia from Russian oppression. Then Stalin would have to face the might of Germany on his own, but… '

"Why, then, did he not go in with the Western Powers when he had the chance?" Goering interrupted.

"Firstly, because he didn't want to go to war at all if he could avoid it, and if he'd gone in with the Western Powers he'd obviously have had to resist an invasion once the German armies had overrun Poland. Secondly, he considered that the Allies were quite capable of coming out on top without his assistance. Thirdly, if he'd lined up with the Democracies he would have had to continue to observe the covenant of the League of Nations, which would have tied his hands in the Baltic."

"Ha, ha! I wondered when all this rigmarole was going to get us to Finland."

"We're doing very nicely and we shall be there in a moment.

In the meantime I hope I've made it clear that Stalin had nothing to gain and everything to lose by coming in with the

Democracies. He simply gambled on the fact very shrewdly, in my view that, whether they won or not, by keeping out he would be able to strengthen his hand against Germany.

"So far he hasn't done too badly, either." Gregory pointed. "Just look at the map. As his share of the swag you had to let him have half Poland. That enables him to build a Maginot Line there 400 miles in advance of his old frontier, which will make it infinitely more difficult for you should you ever contemplate marching into the Ukraine. Then where are your other natural bases for an invasion of Russia? Obviously the most suitable are Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia; all small countries, quite unable to resist any pressure exerted by a big neighbour, and all having considerable German populations. By one of your propaganda campaigns such as you used with the Sudeten Germans in Czechoslovakia you might easily have found it necessary to establish yourselves as the protector of these little neutrals and have established bases in them; but by his pact with you Stalin has been able to forestall you there, and it is he 'who has done this instead of you. Now where is the only remaining jumping off place which you still might use for an attack on European Russia?" ”Finland," murmured Goering, " Finland."

"Of course. The Finnish frontier is only twenty miles from Leningrad. During the last war you trained a battalion of Finns who afterwards officered the Finnish Army in the War of Independence. You also sent von der Goltz and German troops there to help fight the Bolsheviks. Finland is therefore definitely pro German and extremely anti Russian.

"In the event of Germany’s emerging from this war still unbroken she might at any time form a secret alliance with Finland. The Mannerheim Line is quite strong enough to resist an attack until Germany could land a considerable expeditionary force in the Finnish ports to reinforce it. People are laughing about the recent Moscow broadcast in which the Russians declared that the Finns were threatening them. On the face of it, the suggestion that a nation of four million people can threaten one of a hundred and eighty millions is laughable: but when we get down to the real root of the matter it is not laughable at all. The Kremlin obviously cannot announce the fact, but what they really mean is that at some future date four million Finns backed by eighty million Germans might constitute a threat to Russia, and of such a combination they have every reason to be very frightened indeed."

Goering's impatient scowl had disappeared and he refilled both their glasses as Gregory went on

"I haven't seen the English papers but I can give a pretty shrewd guess about the sort of stuff that many of them contain. They're saying: `Now Stalin has at last come out in his true colours and shown himself for the brigand that he is. All his talk about preserving peace because it is the workers who suffer most in any war was mere eyewash. he doesn't give a damn about the workers and has revived all the old imperialistic aim, of the Tsars. He's out for conquest and the rotten swine means to grab everything he can while the rest of us have got our hands full.' "

"That's right," Goering nodded. "I see a summary of everything appearing in your papers and that is the line most of them take."

"Well, they're off the mark. Stalin may be a thug but he's not an imperialist. He would still prefer to have peace if he could get what he wants without war and he's been successful so far but it's absolutely vital to him that if Russia is to be secured from German aggression in the future he should close all her western approaches now, while he's got the chance. We may dislike Stalin and be sorry for these small neutrals whom: he's blackmailing but we can't blame him, because it's his job to put the interests of Russia before everything else."

"You think, then, that, if he can't get what he's after by: threats, he really means to invade Finland: "

"I'm certain of it; because for the moment you can't possibly afford to scrap the Russo German Pact and send aid to the Finns. If he waits, some major change in the international situation a sudden peace move, perhaps might rob him of his one great opportunity to' bar that vulnerable north western gate. Therefore he must act at once and by that I mean within: the next few weeks."

"Why? Climatic conditions?"

"Yes. The lakes and swamps make Finland’s eastern frontier almost impassable from April till November, and from February: to April the snow is so deep that major operations are impossible; whereas from the end of November up till the end of January the lakes are frozen over and the ice thick enough to carry transport but there is still insufficient snow to prove a serious obstacle. That is why, having gobbled up Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia, Stalin had to wait until now before he could bring real pressure to bear on Finland. If he waits until January it will be too late to launch an offensive with any hope of a quick creak through, and if he waits until next November he may have lost his chance for good and all."

"Yes, yes; you're right about that. But do you think the

Finns will fight?"

"God knows. They're a brave people but their numbers are so small and the weight of the Russian tanks and bombers that can be brought against them is tremendous. If they do fight they risk utter annihilation and the destruction of every town in he country, but it is certainly to your interest that they should do so."

"Not necessarily. Personally, I have always been for curbing he power of the Bolsheviks, and if Russia secures her bases in Finland either by threats or by overrunning the country it will be another blow to German prestige in the Baltic. On the other land, if Russia starts even a minor war it will make it much more difficult for her to fulfil her obligations to us and we don't wish to give her any further excuse for delaying the supplies of material that she's promised. If the Finns give in we get our supplies; if they fight well…" Goering shrugged.

"Listen." Gregory set down his glass with a bang. "You're not going to get those supplies or, anyway, nothing like the quantity you have been led to believe so you might as well count that out. I tell you Stalin doesn't mean to help Germany win the war; therefore you'd be mad to allow him to get away with the rape of Finland if you can possibly prevent it."

"I'm doing what I can to persuade Russia to moderate her demands. You heard me say that I intend to see the Soviet Ambassador to morrow morning."

"That's not enough. You're in no position to exert any pressure on the Kremlin so they won't take the least notice of you. Your game is to tackle this job from the other end and to persuade the Finns to tell the Russians to go to Hell."

"To do so would be to go against the Führer’s policy. If it leaked out that I had privately been in communication with the Finnish Government there would be the very devil to pay."

"Perhaps. But there are ways and means of ensuring that it doesn't leak out and, anyhow, I'm not concerned with the Führer’s policy. He thinks that he is going to win this war, doesn't he? But you don't."

Goering smiled. "As I'm talking to a man who is already as good as dead I don't mind admitting that I think it unlikely. If we had attacked France and Britain right away we might have pulled it off, but I was overruled about that; the others insisted that once the Polish business was a fait accompli the Western Powers would throw in their hand. But when I say I think it unlikely that we shall win I do not at all mean that we shall necessarily lose, because, as I've told you, Germany can hold out against the blockade indefinitely."

"Right. Let's assume, then, that this year, next year or in

five years' time, when everybody is thoroughly fed up, there will years' a peace by negotiation. Germany may still be strong enough to insist on retaining her Austrian, Czechoslovakian and Polish territories; but is that enough? She will still be fenced in by customs barriers and emigration restrictions. You may be quite certain that Britain and France will not give up any of their Colonies, and if you go on sinking neutral shipping as you have been doing Germans aren't going to find a ready welcome if they try to settle in other countries. It'll take you a few years to recover from the war. Then you'll be faced again with the same old problem; the inevitable pressure of Germany 's virile population will force her leaders to seek a new outlet."

"Yes," Goering nodded. "'The Democracies sneer at our claim for Lebensraum, but they have no right to do so. We Germans cannot be bottled up indefinitely and this question must be faced, if not at the peace conference then a few years later, when the distress of war has once more faded from the public mind."

"Good. Then what are you going to do have a third crack at Britain and France? That's not going to get you anywhere, because if the peace is one of negotiation Europe will remain an armed camp. But why should you when, if you could get the Ukraine, South Russia down to the Black Sea and a free hand to develop the resources of Asiatic Russia, you'd have an empire equal in its potentialities to the British or the French? Stalin is the bad boy of the family nobody loves old 'Joe' so we're not going to his assistance. particularly after the help he is assumed to have given you against us in this present war. Obviously, then, Germany 's future lies in the East."

"Exactly what I have always maintained."

"Like Stalin, then, you must forget the present and adopt a long term policy. I think it's very doubtful if the Democracies will ever agree to make a peace with Hitler; they have no faith whatever in his word. But he's as good as said himself that he would be prepared to go into retirement if it were for the good of the Reich. Your situation is very different. You are the most popular of the Nazi leaders in Germany and, in spite of the war, your stock still stands pretty high in Britain. Clearly, therefore, if there is a negotiated peace while the Nazis are still in control of Germany you will be the new leader of the German nation."

"Only with the Führer’s consent and approval."

"Yes, yes; but we can take that for granted. Internal and external pressure will be too great for him to resist. My point is that you should not wait until supreme power is placed in your hands possibly at some extremely difficult moment but must make up your mind now what your policy is going to be when power comes to you, and shape events as far as possible so that conditions will be favourable for you to carry that policy out.'°

Goering took a long drink and stared at Gregory. "Why the Hell do I allow you to talk to me like this?"

"Because you're not the fat, jolly fool that it suits you to let the masses think you, but one of the greatest statesmen in Europe; and you know that I'm talking sound sense."

"Go on, then. What do you suggest that I should do?"

"Your long term policy is an invasion of Russia three years after you have been able to secure a negotiated peace. Finland is your last stronghold in the Northern Baltic. As long as Finnish independence is maintained there is always an opening for you to negotiate a secret alliance with the Finns. Use Finland as your base and strike right down at Moscow. That is why Finnish independence must be maintained at all costs and, rather than that she should give a single base to Russia, by hook or by crook you've got to persuade her to fight."

"That's easier said than done. As I've already told you, I dare not enter into secret negotiation with the Finnish Government and from all I've heard it looks as if they'll give in rather than fight."

Gregory emptied his second goblet of champagne. He was feeling pretty good again now as he said: "I think you'll admit that I've managed to interest you on the subject of Finland, so can I take it that I shall not be handed over to the gentlemen downstairs who beat people with steel rods?"

"Yes. You've won your wager," Goering nodded, "but don't get any idea that I mean to let you go; you'll still have to face a firing squad."

"Have I convinced you that it is in Germany ’s interests that Finland should resist Russia ’s demands?"

"Yes, and I admit that your long term policy for Germany and the world offers the best hope of permanent peace that has ever been devised."

"Are you, then, prepared to lead Germany on this new and glorious destiny?"

"If I could do so without disloyalty to my Führer" Good. Then let us discuss it further."

"It would be useless to do so. Our talk has clarified my ideas on the subject and many of your views are in line with those that I've held for a long time, but the plan breaks down at its very outset because the Finns dare not resist."

"If I could produce a method by which you might induce them to do so, would you give me my life?"

"No." Goering turned away. "I've talked much too freely for that. I'm sorry on personal grounds, but I never allow such things to influence my decisions. Nothing you can say now will save you from a bullet."

Chapter XI

Faked Passports

GREGORY remained quite silent for a moment, studying the heavy, forceful face in front of him. It was serene but implacable. There was nothing cruel about it, nothing evil. It was fat with good living, like those of the later Caesars and, like the best of them, still handsome in its rugged strength. The eyes, too, were quick with understanding and intelligence.

Hours earlier that evening when Gregory had first entered the great, silent apartment in which they stood he had believed that if he could once intrigue Goering with the story of his adventures his life would be safe. He had done so and they had dined together like the best of friends, yet he had lost that round.

Afterwards he had still believed that he might save his neck if he proved clever enough to clarify the Marshal's ideas upon the European situation by putting forward possibilities with a bluntness that few Germans would' have dared to use. He had done so; and to such a degree that he might, perhaps, even have altered the whole course of events in Europe for the next fifty years by influencing Goering's decisions through the ambitious plans he had laid before him. But he had lost that round as well.

What was there left? An appeal to sentiment was utterly useless. Goering moved through life as a super battleship ploughs the seas; he allowed nothing to deflect him from his course once he had set it, and all lesser vessels were forced to give way before his relentless progress. Having once decided that Gregory knew too much to be allowed to live, what possible argument could make him go back on his decision? He liked brave people and if he would not spare Gregory when he had shown himself to be a man of courage he would only treat him with contempt if he started to beg for mercy.

Gregory knew that he was up against the toughest proposition that he had ever encountered; but he felt no malice. Goering was an opponent worthy of his steel. If the sands of his life were really running out at last he could console himself with the thought that he had failed only because he had tried to move a mountain. It was no disgrace to have broken oneself against the implacable 'Iron Hermann'.

With a little shrug he said: "Well, I suppose we might as well finish the magnum."

"Certainly." Goering refilled the champagne goblets for the third time and replaced the big bottle in its ice bucket. "I don't feel in a mood for company this evening so I shan't go down and join my guests now. I shall set to work on this Russian business; but there's no immediate hurry, as I never go to bed before two in the morning."

"Good. In that case I may be able to help you."

Goering grinned. "I was thinking of my interview with the Soviet Ambassador tomorrow; and although you're a very clever fellow, Sallust, I don't see how you can help me to bring pressure to bear on the Kremlin."

"No. Nobody can help you there. I meant my scheme for persuading the Finns to resist Russia 's demand."

"But you ask your life for that, and as I don't think it possible, I'm not playing."

"You can't say whether it's possible or not until you've heard it."

"In my view, whatever your scheme might be, the general situation would make it impossible of application; because we are no better placed to exert pressure on the Finns than we are on the Russians."

"I don't agree; and since you won't pay me for it I'll give it to you for nothing."

"Why should you?"

"Oh, I owe you something for having made the last evening of my life such an interesting one; and when I get to Hell I'll make even Satan's mouth water by a description of that bottle of Marcobrunner Cabinet 1900 you gave me for dinner."

"All right, go ahead if you wish."

"Tell me first what you know about the U.S.S.R. The German Secret Service is pretty good and a prcis of all essential reports come to you. Russia is a closed book to most of us. Some people believe her to be the same old Russia of the Tsarist days; slow moving, inefficient, with bribery and corruption rife everywhere; almost unlimited man power still, of course, but not the organization to operate one tenth of it effectively. Other people believe that Russia has undergone a real rebirth; that her soldiers are now educated men, clean, efficient, proud of their country; and that Voroshilov has forged a weapon in the Soviet armies and air force which is the most powerful fighting machine in the world. Few people can know the real truth but you must have a very shrewd idea of it."

"The first is thee case." Goering lit a cigarette and drew heavily upon it. " Russia remains unchanged in all essentials. They are a lazy, shiftless lot and are always saying, 'Nichevo- nichevo!' never do to day what you can put off till tomorrow just as they used to say in the past. Apart from a few people in the Polit Bureau, the Organizational Bureau and the Secretariat there is hardly a Russian that can't be bought. Their Air Force is big very big. That is why if the Soviet had tied up with the Democracies it might have done considerable damage in Berlin during the first few weeks of the war. Numbers cannot possibly be ignored in such matters and the Soviet pilots are brave men, as they proved in Spain. But aircraft types get out of date more quickly than any other arm. The Soviet Air Force reached its peak as a weapon three years ago and plane for plane the Russians wouldn't stand a dog's chance against any of the more modern types that we or the Western Powers now have."

Gregory nodded. "I thought as much. How about the army?"

"There are two armies in Russia. The Army proper is very big in numbers but is composed mainly of conscripts who are ill armed, ill officered and ill fed. They're not even up to the standard of the reserve battalions of Moujiks which the Tsar sent against us in 1915. None of these units is equipped with the most modern weapons apart from tanks because the Kremlin has always been afraid of an Army Putsch. Stalin has deliberately starved the Army proper of equipment, to ensure his own political battalions having at least a great superiority of weapon power over the ordinary troops if it ever came to a show down with the Generals.

"Those political battalions form an army in themselves but a much smaller one, numbering some 300,000 men. Every man in them is a Communist Party member admitted only after the severest tests in the same way as our S.S. men here. They have the best of everything food, quarters, women and would fight tooth and nail to protect the Government that ensures them these privileges. They are commanded by Budenny, who is

Voroshilov's most trusted man, and both are completely loyal the Kremlin."

Gregory swallowed another couple of mouthfuls of the iced champagne. "I take it, then, that the Kremlin would not risk sending its political battalions against the Finns but would use the main army which you say is in such poor condition?"

"Naturally. They will rely on sheer weight of numbers to smash the Mannerheim Line because it doesn't matter how any of their conscripts they kill; whereas large losses among their crack political troops would leave the Kremlin Government exposed to the danger of an internal revolution."

"Do you think such mass attacks by inferior troops will be efficient to overcome the Finnish resistance within say a, month?"

"I doubt it; because it is not only the troops that are of such poor quality; they will be worse led than any other army in Europe."

"Do you mean because Stalin has bumped off so many of is best officers in these constant purges since the Tukachevsky conspiracy of 1937?"

Goering nodded. "It's been infinitely worse than most people suppose. There's no doubt that Stalin nipped the 'Tukachevsky conspiracy only just in time. Nearly every officer importance was involved in it and the Ogpu have been tracing them up ever since. During the last two years he has liquidated 75 out of 8o members of the Supreme War Council, 13 out of 19 Army commanders and 195 Divisional commanders. Altogether they have murdered 350 odd generals, but even that not the worst of it. Over 30,000 officers of all ranks have been slaughtered."

"Thirty thousand " Gregory exclaimed.

"Yes. That means that hardly an officer above the rank of Major has been spared and practically all their qualified staff officers have been eliminated. Men who were captains last year re now commanding divisions and sergeants have become company commanders overnight. The Navy and the Air Force have suffered equally in proportion. The result is bound to be absolute chaos when the Soviet forces are called on to under take a full scale campaign."

"You have, of course, irrefutable proof of this in your Secret service files?" Gregory asked.

"Certainly. We have far too many agents operating in Russia for them all to be mistaken."

"How much of this do you think the Finns know?"

"A little, perhaps; but not very much compared with ourselves. Finland is a small country and her resources are limited. For every agent the Finns have working in Russia we probably have a hundred."

"Good. Now, what you've told me more than confirms my own suspicions, and this is the plan I had in mind. Get the facts from Berlin and sit up all night compiling a full report upon the Soviet Army and Air Force, backed by all the available evidence."

A quick smile lit Goering's eyes. "I see the ideal You're suggesting that I should tip off the Finnish Government that the main Red Army is only cardboard."

"Exactly. There can be no doubt that Marshal Mannerheim would rather fight than give in and from what we know of the Finnish War of Independence I'm certain that most of the Finns are with him. But the Government is the snag. Politicians are not soldiers; the thought of their cities lying in ruins and their women and children being bombed to Hell makes them prepared to go to almost any lengths rather than go to war. If only you can convince the Finnish Cabinet that their country will not be overrun immediately and that in spite of Russia's numerical superiority there's a good chance of their being able to hold out until other countries and the February snows come to their assistance, you'll have done the trick you'll have saved Finland as a possible base for future German operations when the present war is over."

Goering shook his head. "I believe it could be done; but one thing makes such a course impossible. To convince them that the reports are genuine I should have to send a personal emissary with full authority to let the Finns know that, whatever Germany ’s ostensible attitude may be, I am behind them. That would mean going behind the Führer’s back. Himmler's agents are everywhere, even in the highest offices of the Government. There are very few people indeed that even I can absolutely trust, and those few are marked men. If one of them disappeared Himmler would send out a general call through his Foreign Department, U.A. 1. Every Gestapo agent outside Germany would be turned on to hunt for my man; his presence in Helsinki would be discovered and reported, and that alone would be sufficient to give away the fact that I had been trying to double cross von Ribbentrop. I'm not frightened of him I can take care of myself and I'm a much bigger man than he is but there would be hell to pay, and I'm not ready for a showdown with him yet."

"I feared the problem of a suitable emissary would prove a knotty one," Gregory nodded; "because anyone you send on such a mission must be a man of some standing, otherwise the Finns might become suspicious and get it into their heads that he was not sent by you at all. But surely you can find some aristocrat an Army man for preference who is outside politics someone important enough to impress the Finns and at the same time a man whom you could completely trust someone, for example, like our late friend, Colonel Baron von Lutz?" '

In spite of its size the room was now blue with the smoke of innumerable cigarettes, yet Goering lit another and puffed upon it. "Yes, someone like that," he murmured. "Von Lutz would have been just the man, but he's dead; and unfortunately,, where a month ago I could have found a dozen like him who would have done equally well, they were all either killed or have gone into hiding as a result of the Army Putsch."

Gregory smiled. "Then it seems there's nothing else for it.

If you're to pull this job off and you must, for the sake of your own future and that of Germany you'll just have to send me."

"You?" Goering exclaimed.

"Yes; why not?" Gregory grinned now that he had whipped the cover from the life boat which he had been secretly fashioning for himself during the last few moments, and hurried on: "Nobody knows that the Baron is dead. He might have been burnt in that cottage last night or he might have escaped. Even if the S.S. men find his body in the woods the news of his death will never get as far as Finland because he wasn't important enough for it to be reported to the Gestapo agents there. I'm wearing his clothes at the moment and although our faces weren't alike our build was much the same. I am a born impostor, and as I spent the best part of three weeks in hiding with the Baron I know all about his family and his whole history. All you have to do is to furnish me with a passport in the Baron's name and an aeroplane. Haven't you realized yet that I can be darned useful to you alive whereas I'll be no good to anybody once I'm dead?"

Goering began to pace rapidly up and down. "That's all very well, but how do I know that I can trust you? You're an Englishman. Why should you offer to work for Germany? To save your life, you may say; but I should not believe that. You are not the kind of man who betrays his country."

"To do as I suggest would not be betraying my country," said Gregory swiftly. "In this instance the interests of Britain and Germany are identical. Britain has always championed the small nations so she would naturally be anxious that the Finns should retain their independence. Further: if Russia's demands are resisted, and she is compelled to fight for what she wants, that will give her an even better excuse than any she has at present for delaying in sending supplies to Germany. That is the price a very small one, in my opinion which you must pay if you are to save Finland as a possible base for future operations. But I'm concerned with this war, not the next; and by providing Russia with a spot of bother, so that she is less able to help you, I'm assisting my own country. As far as the future is concerned, I don't see why the Western Powers should object to Germany ’s compensating herself for her lack of colonies by absorbing Southern Russia and making Asiatic Russia a German protectorate."

"Ha And what about the right of self determination that you English talk so much about. You would say we were enslaving the Russians or some such nonsense."

"The population of Central and North Eastern Asia is no more Russian than that of India is English or that of Senegal French. I don't think that question would arise, providing you allowed the true Russians to retain self government in their own original Muscovite territories. What really matters is that the German race would no longer menace future peace if it had sufficient room in which to spread. Given Russia ’s vast Asiatic lands in addition to the Reich, Germany could afford to give up Czechoslovakia and Poland as she would still have about one fifth of the world's land surface more than enough room for her surplus population. With such an area to administer and develop she need never again come into collision with the Western Powers over the colonial question and there might at last be some real hope of peace in our time. I would not dream of undertaking this mission if I were not convinced that in serving you I should also be serving Britain."

"Yes, Yes. If we had the Ukraine, the Caucasus and all Asiatic Russia our problem would be solved for good. But if you wouldn't double cross me with your own people you might with the Gestapo. How am I to know that you'd not take any papers I gave you straight to Himmler?"

"I should have thought you had a perfect guarantee against that."

"Guarantee? What D’you mean?"

Gregory shrugged. "What am I doing here? Why did I put my neck in a noose by coming to see you? Only because I was desperately anxious to find out what had happened to Erika."

"Of course of course."

"And now you've told me that she's in Finland, isn't her presence there the best guarantee you could possibly have that the one thing I'm anxious to do is to get to Finland myself so that I can join her?"

"That's true. Yes, I believe you're honest. But it's a hellish risk." Goering's voice still held doubt as he began to pace swiftly up and down again. "Say you slip up and are caught by Himmler's agents, with those papers on you?"

Gregory's pulses were racing. He knew that he was on the very verge of victory. If he could storm the last redoubt of Goering's resistance by yet one more reasoned argument his case would be won; he and Charlton would walk out of Karinhall free men and with facilities for escaping out of Germany. Nerving himself for a final effort he swilled down the last of his champagne, and said earnestly:

"Listen. What have you to fear? In serving you I serve my country. I have the strongest possible personal motive for wanting to go to Finland, because it is only by doing so that I can rejoin the woman I love. If I do slip up, that will be tough luck on me, but there'll be no come back whatsoever so far as you're concerned. There would be if I were really Colonel Baron von Lutz or any other German that you might choose to send. But I'm not a German; I'm a British secret agent, and any rigorous examination would prove that. I'm the one and only man you can send with complete safety, because if I'm caught you could deny all knowledge of me swear I'd stolen the papers and everybody would believe you."

"By God, you're right” Goering swung round. "Very well I'll send you to Finland."

Even the masterly control with which Gregory was usually able to hide his true feelings was not proof against the glint of triumph which leapt into his eyes. To conceal it he bent forward and helped himself to another of the fat cigarettes. As he lit it, with his eyes cast down towards its tip, he could feel his heart thumping a rhythm in his chest. "I've won I've won

I've won " But all he said as he flicked out the match was: "Good. How soon can I start?"

Goering had suddenly become a different man. All trace of the indecision so foreign to his nature had left him. With his dark eyes fixed on Gregory he said rapidly: "Now that the crisis is on every hour is of importance. You will leave the moment we have the papers ready. I shall send you in one of my private planes. I can trust my own pilots and one of them will not be missed while away on a twenty four hour trip."

"He'll have to observe the usual formalities when we land at the Helsinki air port, though," Gregory remarked, "and he might easily be recognized. I should think it's a hundred to one that Himmler has planted one of his spies among the personnel there."

"That's true," Goering frowned.

"Don't worry about that. You let me have the plane and I'll provide the pilot."

` Ah! You mean the fellow downstairs? I'd forgotten all about him. Is he a good man competent to fly a Messerschmitt and would he also be willing to go to Finland?"

"He's one of the best pilots in the R.A.F, and he'll fly anything anywhere rather than be interned in Germany for the duration of the war."

"He won't bring my plane back, though."

"No. You can hardly expect him to do that. But what the hell does one plane matter on a job like this?"

"Nothing at all. But no comment would be aroused among the Finns if a German pilot in a German plane just flew in and out to drop you there; whereas a British pilot arriving with a German officer in a German plane would cause every tongue to wag."

"I agree. But in any case I couldn't go in uniform. You'll have to let me have a suit of civilian clothes and you could easily provide me with a double set of papers; one faked British passport in my own name for me to show on landing at the air port and one passport in the name of Colonel Baron von Lutz for presentation to the people at the Finnish Foreign Office. I should then be a British subject arriving with a British pilot."

"But what about the plane?"

"Don't let's use a Messerschmitt. You must have some foreign make in your private fleet that might quite as naturally be flown by a British instead of a German pilot. All we'd have to do then is to paint out the German markings and substitute the British circles for the German crosses."

Suddenly Goering began to laugh uproariously, his fat body shaking like a jelly.

"What's bitten you?" Gregory inquired.

"I was just thinking," the Marshal wheezed, "what a grand Joke it would be if I gave you the little plane with which Voroshilov presented me when I made my trip to Russia."

Gregory laughed too, but shook his head. "Russian makes are rare, if non existent, in Britain. An Italian or a Dutch make would be much better."

Goering nodded. "I have a four Beater Belgian Sabina which would do admirably. It is their fastest type and fitted with de icing apparatus. I'll let you have that. And now to work."

Although it was well after midnight, within a few moments the big apartment became a hive of activity. Half a dozen officers, forming Goering's confidential secretariat, were summoned and to each the Marshal gave brief, clear instructions.

Three were dispatched to Berlin; one to the Foreign Office to arrange about the passports, and the other two to collect files from the Air Ministry and the War Office respectively. A fourth was ordered to find Gregory a complete change of clothes. A fifth was told to give immediate instructions for the alterations of the markings on the Belgian plane, then to collect Charlton and work out with him, from the latest weather reports and maps of the Baltic, the navigation details of a flight to Finland; while the sixth was sent running to bring all the available reports on Russia from Goering's private files.

The man who was going to the Foreign Office fetched a camera and photographed Gregory, both in uniform and in a borrowed civilian overcoat, for the two passports. Then two clerks brought in a typewriter on a wheeled desk. Immediately the reports arrived Goering flung off his coat and sitting down, in his shirt sleeves, at his big table he began to dictate.

As Gregory stood behind him, reading snatches of the reports over the Marshal's shoulder, he was filled with amazement and admiration at the spectacle of the man who had created the new Germany exercising his extraordinary brain. Every now and again Goering mopped the perspiration from his broad forehead as he sweated out the alcohol that he had drunk and was still drinking, for the deaf mute barman had appeared again and had opened another magnum of champagne. With pauses of only a moment the Marshal was absorbing whole pages of typescript with a sponge like rapidity and condensing them into brief paragraphs. He missed nothing of importance and his words poured out in a swift, unhesitating flow. The typist's fingers positively flew over the keys as he took the dictation, and the other man who had come in with him constantly prepared fresh foolscap paper and carbons so that there should be the least possible delay in changing sheets at the end of each page.

Gregory very soon realized that there were not going to be any half measures about the report. Goering was giving an abbreviated but detailed account of the whole building up of the Red Army. He seemed to know the personal history of every general of importance, the state of moral of every army corps and the positions they now occupied.

At half past two in the morning the first of the three officers who had been sent to Berlin arrived back with another mass of papers. Soon afterwards his colleague who had visited the War Office came in with yet more files. They remained there sorting them as though their very lives depended on it; scanning sheet after sheet and pulling out only those of importance for the Marshal's perusal. "Keep that," or "Scrap that," was all Goering said after a second's glance at each paper that was handed to him. `

By four o'clock he had turned his attention to the Soviet Air Force and was giving detail after detail about the various types of Russian planes, their speed, their numbers, their positions; then he passed to bombs; personnel, flight efficiency, petrol reserves, capacity of training centres.

At a little before five the man who had been to the Foreign Office came in. He had with him the passport for Colonel Baron von Lutz, but they were still busy faking the British passport in the name of Gregory Sallust and he said that it would be sent out to Karinhall by six o'clock.

With him he also brought a fresh pile of papers and shortly after his arrival Goering turned from the subject of the Air Force to the Russian political scene. Each of the sixteen commissars, who between there made up the three committees which rule Russia, was given a long paragraph bribable or unbribable, married or single, private life, antecedents, secret vices everything which might assist a foreign Power in shaping its policy towards these men should they suddenly come into special prominence.

At ten minutes past six Goering suddenly pushed back his hair and stood up. The job was done.

In one Herculean effort, which would have taken most men weeks of hard conscientious preparation, he had compiled a document of 126 foolscap sheets which would give the Finns every vital fact that Germany knew about Russia and would 'show Russia 's weakness.

For a few moments he sat quite still, while the officers withdrew their depleted files, then he dictated a letter which ran

"Karinhall,

"November 28th, 1939.

"The bearer of this is my friend, Colonel Baron von Lutz. "the Baron will hand to you a document o f the first importance. With the information therein, for which I personally vouch, the 'Finnish Government will realize that they have little to fear from an attack by Russia.

"At the moment Germany is in no position to make an official pronouncement but I cannot too strongly stress our hope that the Finnish Government will resist the Russian demands, with the knowledge that time is on their side and that in secret I shall do everything possible to assist them."

The speed typist and his assistant left the room. Goering signed the letter, took the top copy of the report and three sheaf’s of original documents from the piles that his aides de camp had sorted out, thrust them into a large stout envelope and handed he whole bundle to Gregory with von Pleisen's Iron Cross, as he said

"The letter has no superscription but you will take it to Monsieur Grado Wuolijoki Monsieur Wuo li joki at the 'Finnish Foreign Office. He is of German extraction, on his mother's side, and my personal friend. He will see that these papers reach the right quarter."

Gregory removed the letter, which he folded and put in his pocket as he wished to keep it handy so that he could destroy it at once in the event of any accident by which the plane might be forced down while still over Germany.

"I understand," he said. "That was a marvellous night's work you put in and I'm certain that you'll never regret it. by the bye, I suppose you can let me have some money? As the Colonel Baron and your secret representative I should naturally put up at the best hotel when I reach Helsinki."

Actually, he still had nearly 300 on him, being the balance of the 5,000 marks that Sir Pellinore Gwaine-Cust had given him before his first trip into Germany, but Gregory had always believed in 'spoiling the Egyptians' and saw no reason why the Nazis should not pay his expenses in Finland.

Goering nodded "certainly. I like my people to put up a good show." As he spoke he walked over to a large any of Napoleon Bonaparte which was opposite his desk and, feeling behind the edge of its gilt frame, twisted a concealed knob to a combination that he evidently carried in his mind. The picture and its frame swung noiselessly outward revealing an enormous wall safe, with many shelves and compartments, to the six inch thick steel door of which the picture was affixed.

Picking up a fat packet of bank notes from one of the shelves he began to count them, but at that moment the telephone buzzer sounded. Thrusting the packet into Gregory's hands the Marshal said impatiently: "Here! Take 3,000 marks from this. That should be enough and give you a good margin to bribe your way into the Finnish Foreign Office quickly if the small people show any signs of keeping you waiting."

"Thanks." The packet consisted of 100 mark notes and Gregory counted himself off thirty from it while Goering carried on a quick conversation at the telephone. As Gregory was holding the bundle he felt an uneven strip across its bottom and turning it over he saw that some very thin, folded sheets of paper were wedged under the thick rubber band which held the notes together. The sheets were so thin that he could see the typescript through the top one. It might he just a check list of the numbers of the notes. On the other hand, it might be something of importance which had got caught in the rubber band by mistake. Anything coming out of Goering's private safe was worth investigation and the Marshal still had his back turned at the telephone. Gregory knew that if he stole the `flimsies', and they were missed immediately, his life would once more be forfeit: but the temptation to find out what the typescript was proved irresistible. Slipping it from under the rubber band he swiftly pushed it in his pocket; then, so that he should not have to hand the bundle back he replaced it on the shelf of the safe from which it had been taken.

The Marshal finished his telephoning, turned round, gave a glance at the notes Gregory still held in his hand and swung the safe door shut again. He was no longer perspiring and looked as fresh as if he had slept the night through.

"We'll have some breakfast now," he smiled, "then I'll snatch a couple of hours' sleep before I see the Soviet Ambassador."

In the private dining room breakfast had already been prepared; real coffee, crisp white rolls, fresh butter, eggs, fish, sausage and cheese. As he sat down Goering's personality changed again, and it was impossible to believe that he was the same person who had been working so furiously all through the night. He talked, like any country gentleman entertaining a guest, of the wild life on his estate, and mentioned quite casually that he meant to get back from Berlin by midday to join the guns as he had a shooting party staying in the house.

When the meal was done he summoned the aide de camp who had been charged with providing a change of clothes for Gregory and told him to see that his guest had everything he needed until he could start on his journey. Then, as they went out into the corridor he shook Gregory warmly by the hand.

"Good luck, my dear fellow. It's been a pleasure to see you here and when the war is over you must come and stay. We'll kill some more bottles of Marcobrunner, and I really can offer you some excellent shooting."

"Thanks. I've enjoyed myself enormously," Gregory said politely, and was inwardly tickled by the fantastic idea which flashed into his mind that possibly his host expected him to write a bread and butter letter. Obviously the Marshal had completely forgotten for the time being that at just about that hour his guest would have been led out to die at his orders had it not been for that guest's own wits and determination to save himself.

The A.D.C. took Gregory to a suite where he bathed, shaved and changed. He retained his own shoes and took the opportunity to slip the typescript he had stolen into the false sole of one of them, where he still had most of the money he had brought into Germany. He then rejoined the A.D.C., who led him downstairs and through a long corridor to an underground aerodrome.

Charlton was there, haggard and weary eyed. He had been given dinner, but after that the poor fellow had been left all night in the waiting room and owing to his acute anxiety he had not been able to get one wink of sleep. Yet when he saw Gregory he smiled and nodded cheerfully towards the Belgian plane which now carried the red, white and blue British circles.

"Nice little bus, isn't she?"

"Yes," Gregory nodded. "The Marshal's giving it to us as a parting present. I managed to entertain him rather well at dinner last night."

Freddie grunted. "You might at least have sent down to let me know that things were all right. I suppose for the last eight hours you've been sleeping your head off?"

"Not all the time. As a matter of fact, the Marshal kept me up pretty late but he was so hospitable that I found it a little difficult to get away."

"You old devil " Freddie laughed. "Anyhow. I'm mighty glad to see you er looking so fresh," he added as an afterthought.

"Thanks. I'm sorry you had such a dull time last night, but I see you've had a shave so I take it they looked after you this morning?"

"Oh, yes; they couldn't have been nicer bath, slap up breakfast, everything they even produced a change of underclothes when I hinted that mine were due for the long service medal."

"Good And the Air Officer gave you all the particulars you require for our flight to Finland?"

"Yes. I've got it all here." Freddie held up a small, fat wallet. "And orders have been telephoned through to Anti Aircraft Headquarters that they're not to interfere with a small Belgian Sabina plane bearing British markings which will be flying over North Eastern Germany for a special purpose."

"Yes. I fixed that with the Marshal. So long as you stick to the route you've been given we're ensured a clear run out of the country."

The plane had been fuelled to capacity as it was desirable to. avoid any questioning which might have arisen by breaking their journey at air ports along the route, but with only two people on board, instead of the four for which it was built, the Sabina was easily capable of carrying enough petrol for a 700mile non stop flight. Directly it was reported ready Gregory and Freddie got into it.

Gregory put his big packet of papers on his knees and felt in his pocket to make quite certain that his two passports and Goering's letter were there all right. The head mechanic signalled to Freddie and the engine sprang to sudden life, making a deafening roar in the underground air port. They waved good bye to the Air Officer and mechanics, then the plane

ran smoothly up the long slope out into the daylight and across the grass. A moment later it was in the air.

"So you've got us out and the gift of a plane into the bargain," Freddie said, the moment he had taken off. "You certainly are a wizard."

"No just a worker," Gregory replied. "And, my God, it was a fight I had to wrestle with Satan in person for about five hours and work for another six, so I'm about all in. I'll tell you the story later but I've been through the hell of a strain and I'm going to try to get some sleep now."

He closed his eyes and lay back in the comfortable passenger seat beside the pilot. It was not until ten minutes later that he suddenly noticed how cold it had become, and opening his eyes again he saw that the altimeter registered 8,000 feet.

"It's darned cold up here," he remarked. "Surely we don't need to fly as high as this?"

"Oh, yes, we do," Freddie grinned. "I'm going much higher as high as the plane will take us without our conking out through lack of oxygen." '

"But why?" Gregory protested. "You've got your route and the anti aircraft people have been told to let us through."

"Yes; but that's only along a lane over North Eastern Germany."

"Naturally since we're going to Finland."

" Finland?" gasped Freddie. "Surely you didn't really mean to go there?"

Gregory sat up with a jerk. "Of course. I've been entrusted with a special mission by Goering so I've got no option."

"Good God, you are crazy 1 Finland? My foot Thanks a lot for the plane, but now I've got it I'm going home "

Chapter XII

The Red Menace

GREGORY closed his eyes and sighed. After having worn down the most dynamic man in Europe by hours of skilful flattery, well timed bullying and reasoned argument, it seemed a bit hard that, tired out as he was, he should now be called upon to cope with his pleasant but pigheaded young friend.

Experience had taught him that the better the quality of the drink the less likelihood of a head the following morning, but even with the very best of liquor quantity will tell, and he now had a first class hang over. Breakfast and a bath had only stalled off the evil hour. His brain had begun to feel like cotton wool, his eyes were heavy and he had a rotten taste in his mouth, but it was mental exhaustion, much more than the alcohol he had drunk, which had got him down. Moreover, he was a night bird by nature and always at his very worst in the morning, when most other people were setting off to tackle the day's work; yet the effort had to be made, so he said slowly:

"Why not Holland, as that girl of yours is there?"

"I'd make it Holland," Charlton said sharply, "but for two reasons. Firstly, as a British Air Force officer the Dutch would intern me the moment I landed. Secondly, it's my duty to report to my C.O. at the earliest possible opportunity and if you've forgotten your duty I haven't forgotten mine."

"Oh, Freddie, you make me tired," said Gregory wearily. "D'you honestly think I'm the sort of chap who would sell myself to the enemy and that I've taken on this job to help the Nazis win the ruddy war?"

"No-no, of course not. I didn't mean that really; but when you said you were doing the job for Goering what the hell else was a fellow to think?"

"Thanks for the somewhat dubious vote of confidence. Now, listen to me. I'm going to give you two very good reasons why you're not going home before you've flown me to Finland. After that you can do as you damned well choose. The Finns won't intern you, because at the moment they're much too occupied pith their own affairs to bother their heads about minor infringements of their neutrality; so if you don't want to stay you an buy a suit of civilian clothes, and it shouldn't be difficult for you to get a ship home from one of the Norwegian ports."

"Why should I do that, which might mean weeks of delay, when I've got a perfectly good plane?"

"You haven't got a plane. Goering gave this plane to me. but for goodness' sake don't let's wrangle about side issues. The situation is this. Russia has demanded that Finland shall give her bases and receive garrisons of Red troops. If Finland agrees, she will never again be in a position to fight Russia and will be reduced to the state of a Russian province. That has got to be stopped somehow."

"I suppose you think you're such a hell of a guy that directly he Soviet agents report your arrival in Helsinki Stalin will get a fit of the jitters and throw his hand in?"

"Don't be facetious, Freddie, or keep interrupting me. What I can do is to persuade the Finns to fight. I've got here the whole low down on the Red Army and Air Force, showing their real weakness. Once the Finns see these papers they'll realize that they’ve got a sporting chance."

"What, a mere handful of them against fifteen million armed Reds?"

"Yes. I don't suggest that they can march on Moscow but I do believe they can hold out until help reaches them from the other Scandinavian countries or the Allies.

"I don't suppose you know much about Finland, Freddie few English people do. The Finns are grand fighters; they showed that in their War of Independence when with little else but shot guns the Finnish farmers drove thousands of Red guards out of their country and at last made it their own. The fate of education and civilization in Finland is very high indeed. They are individualists in the best sense and have a passionate love of freedom. After a hundred years of Tsarist tyranny they managed to throw off the Russian yoke; for the past twenty years they have enjoyed real liberty, living in peace and well being. Now their liberty is threatened again.

"Think of those Finnish families, living just as our own people do at home; well fed, well clothed, enjoying their sport, books, music, cinemas; able to do and say just what they like without any dread of secret police spying upon them and dragging them off to prison or execution. Then think of what we know of Russia the dirt, the poverty, the forced labour, the constant fear of husbands and wives that they may be separated over night never to see each other again or one of them arrested on a false charge and condemned without even a hearing by some secret tribunal. The Finns are a little people but they are decent folk; they represent everything for which Britain and France are fighting. How can we allow them to be made slaves again when we have a chance to save them?"

The plane was still climbing and Gregory paused for a moment to glance at Freddie's set face, then he went on evenly: "That is my first reason a sentimental one, perhaps. Now listen to my second. It is the thing that you yourself spoke of just now our duty. It's our duty to help win this war. If we can help more by temporarily abandoning routine and acting on our own, common sense tells us we should do so. Remember Nelson putting his blind eye to the telescope? Well, we're not even ignoring the orders of our superiors; just remaining a few days longer than is strictly necessary on the list of `missing', that's all. Germany is getting supplies from Russia; not in great quantity, perhaps, but you can bet that she's getting the things she needs most urgently even if they come through on a hay cart. If Russia has to fight Finland she'll have to give first place to her own war and the supply of vital war materials which she sends to Germany will dry up. If we can get the Finns to fight we shall indirectly have extended the blockade along another fifth of Germany ’s frontiers, and that's as good as a major victory. Therefore you can serve your country infinitely better by taking me to Finland than you can by going home to report for routine duty."

Freddie had straightened out and the compass showed that he was heading not north east but west for England; so Gregory threw his last reserves into the battle by continuing: "Then I want you to think of the future for a moment. What is Russia ’s real game? I talked to Goering for hours last night and I meant a lot of the things I said but others were so much hot air. The original programme of the Bolsheviks was world revolution, and they established the Comintern which financed subversive activities in every country with a view to carrying it out. But Lenin found the job too much for him. Russia was in such a ghastly state that he couldn't pull it together without securing help from the outside world; so he announced the

N.E.P. New Economic Plan by which the Bolsheviks proclaimed that they had altered their policy. Private internal trading was to be allowed again and the Soviet was prepared to recognize capitalistic governments in other countries and to live in peace with them. From that time onward the Comintern 'faded into the background. Nevertheless, Lenin made it 'abundantly clear that the N.E.P. was only a means to an end. He said in public speeches before his death that once Russia was on her feet again they must revert to their original policy and endeavour to bring about world revolution by any means in their power, including conquest by the Red armies.

"Twenty years have elapsed since then. Russia is much stronger now. In recent times the Comintern has become active again and Stalin is beginning to show his hand. By his advance into Poland and his peaceful penetration into Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia he has already gobbled up millions of people and barred his western gates against any future attack by Germany, He hopes to give Germany enough food to keep her fighting for years, which may weaken us to near breaking point and weaken Germany to such an extent that when she does collapse the whole of middle Europe will fall into a state of anarchy. Then will come Stalin's day and the Bolsheviks will march in there, France was on the verge of a Communist revolution just before the Spanish war broke out in 1936. The Marxists may fly their Red flags in Calais and we should be in no state to stop them. With strikes at home and the whole force of Red subversive propaganda turned against us, impossible as it may seem now, we, too, might go Red and find ourselves the slaves of Moscow.

"It's up to us to try to avert such a peril by every means in our power. If we can occupy Russia with Finland and divert vital supplies from Germany we shall weaken Germany so that we are more quickly able to win our own war and yet leave her sufficiently strong to act as a bulwark against Russia. by inducing Finland to fight we shall also weaken Russia and with luck her slow, lumbering, growth into a world menace will be set back for years to come. Finland will be fighting Britain 's fight and the frontier of Christian civilization the right of every man, woman and child to justice, toleration and freedom to day lies not in the west, Freddie, but north east, on the Mannerheim Line."

Freddie Charlton pressed his right foot down on his rudder bar, bringing the plane round in a beautiful curve. "You're right," he said. "I m afraid I don't know much about such things and I've never quite looked at it that way before. You must be very tired, old boy; get some sleep. I'll take you to Helsinki."

"Thanks, old chap. I knew you'd understand directly I explained things; and even if we fail in our attempt I'm sure you'll never regret your decision." At last Gregory was able to relax and a few minutes later he was sound asleep.

As there was no longer any necessity for flying at a high altitude Freddie brought the plane down to 3,000 feet and headed for Danzig. The day was fine, and now that his wretched night was temporarily forgotten he was thoroughly enjoying being in the air again after his enforced three weeks on the ground.

On picking up Danzig he descended to 1,000 feet so that the German controls there could check him out of the country and report to Goering. Below him as he passed over the harbour he could see the tangled wreckage on the Westernplat Peninsula where the Polish garrison had held out so gallantly under a devastating bombardment from the German ships and shore batteries. Altering his course twenty degrees nearer to north he crossed the great, 150 mile long bay west of Konigsberg, picked up Libau on the Latvian coast, followed the coast line for a while and thence flew over the Estonian islands.

The land below him had been snow covered for the last three hundred miles of his journey and he had to go up to 6,000 feet to get out of a snow storm over the Gulf of Finland but at a little after eleven o'clock he made a perfect landing on the hard rolled snow of the Helsinki air port.

In spite of the bumping the plane had got over the islands Gregory had slept for the whole of the four hours of the journey. Even the landing did not wake him, and Freddie had to shake him by the shoulder as the officials at the air port came across to the plane. Once awake he declared himself much refreshed and having first established his British nationality by the production of the faked British passport he began to talk to the Finnish officials in voluble German, as they were more fluent in that language. His story was that they had flown direct from England with papers of the utmost urgency for the British Legation and that it was for that reason he had been given an R.A.F. pilot to bring him over.

The Sabina not being a war plane, the question of interning it did not arise; but normally there might have been difficulties about Freddie. As it was, the Finns were all so concerned by the abnormal conditions created by the crisis, and the additional air traffic which was constantly coming and going as a result A it, that Gregory had no difficulty in persuading them that Freddie's case was quite exceptional and that he should be allowed to retain his liberty for the time being, at all events. A friendly official secured a taxi for them and, Gregory having directed the driver to take them to the best hotel, they drove through the suburbs to the centre of the town.

The driver set them down at the Hotel Kamp. Immediately Gregory entered it he pushed his way through the crowded hall to the porter's desk and got the man there to turn up two telephone numbers for him: that of the Finnish Foreign Office and that of the von Kobenthals. There were queues of waiting people before each telephone booth but Gregory got hold of the head porter and simply asked how much he wanted for ten minutes' use of the line in his office. The matter was soon concluded and the moment Gregory was alone he rang up the von Kobenthals' number.

To his immense satisfaction he learned that although Erika was not in she was still staying with the von Kobenthals, so he left no message but in the highest spirits hung up again and turned his attention to Monsieur Wuolijoki. The Foreign Office proved more difficult and it was a little time before he could get a connection; but after a short wait he got through to Monsieur Wuolijoki, and, announcing himself as Colonel Baron von Lutz who had just arrived in Helsinki from Germany on urgent business, secured an appointment for three o'clock that afternoon. Both love and war seemed to be going splendidly and he left the office beaming.

Recrossing the hall, with Freddie beside him, he tackled a fair man at the reception desk about rooms. It transpired that the hotel was very full owing to the crisis, but on Gregory's producing a fat wad of German bank notes the clerk said that he could let them have a reservation which had only just been cancelled, if they did not mind sharing a double room on the sixth floor. Gregory booked it at once and, since he had been checked in on the British passport by the air port police, signed the register in his own name. He then changed some of his German Reich marks into Finnish currency and told the clerk that they were going out to do some shopping as owing to a mishap they had lost their luggage. Goering's report and the mass of original papers that were with it formed much too large a packet to carry about conveniently so he handed it across the desk and added: "While I am out I shall be glad if you will take charge of this and put it in the hotel safe."

"Certainly, sir," the fair man smiled. "I'll give you a receipt for it."

"Thanks," said Gregory as he took the slip. "I shall be wanting it again after lunch but it's very important that the greatest care should be taken of it. You're not to give it to anyone on any pretext, even if they produce this receipt, but keep it until I ask you personally for it."

As they stood there the sole possessions of the two Englishmen consisted of the few things that they carried in their pockets, so they went out’ to buy a couple of suitcases and various articles which would enable them to live for the next few days like civilized beings; including civilian clothes for Freddie, to make him less conspicuous and, above all, furs; as although they moved briskly they were already feeling the intense cold of the Finnish capital.

The Boulevard, which constitutes the principal shopping centre of Helsinki, was unusually crowded. The newspaper vendors were doing terrific business and on every corner there were knots of fur clad people discussing the all important question, "Shall we or shall we not be at war with Russia this time to morrow?" Everywhere, too, there were squads of voluntary workers sandbagging the principal buildings or frantically working upon air raid shelters; but the normal life of the city was still going on. Every shop was open and doing a brisk business. With his excellent mastery of German, English and French Gregory found no difficulty whatever in getting the articles he required. The assistants in the shops were equally friendly whether they believed him to be German or British. Their enemy was Russia and their one question to every customer whatever his nationality was: "Do you think we are going to fight?"

In view of Russia's huge air force and the fact that the Finns could hardly expect any protection at all from their own tiny air fleet, they were remarkably cheerful and the two Englishmen very soon saw that, whatever the view of the Finnish Government might be, the Finnish people almost to a man were prepared to take anything that was coming to them rather than surrender to the Bolsheviks.

With what was left of his own money and the 3,000 marks for which he had stung Goering Gregory had brought nearly 600 out of Germany, and furs are amazingly cheap in Finland so they had ample funds to buy the best of everything they wanted.

Helsinki has three harbours, the southernmost of which, overlooked by the unpretentious ex Imperial Palace of the Tsars and the gilded, onion shaped domes of the big Russian Church, is a great market. To it boats come from all parts, laden mainly with fish and farm produce, but along the quays there are many stalls for every kind of merchandise. On this Tuesday morning an unusual number of people had flocked into the town to get the latest news so the harbour market was doing a roaring business and it was there that Gregory and Freddie completed their purchases, returning to the hotel just after one o'clock with two large suitcases stuffed full of parcels.

Just as they were moving towards the lift Gregory noticed a pretty dark haired girl standing at the entrance to the lounge. A moment later Freddie also saw her and, dropping his suitcase, positively leapt forward.

"Angela " he cried. "Darling What in the world are you doing here?"

For a second the girl's face remained strained and uncertain, but ignoring the people who were talking excitedly all around them Freddie seized her in his arms, and Gregory saw by the sudden change in her expression to overwhelming happiness that for her the huge crowd no longer existed. Quietly picking up Freddie's suitcase he stepped, smiling, into the lift and left them to it.

When he got up to his room he unpacked his parcels and had a wash at the fixed basin. It then occurred to him to have a look at the typescript which he had stolen from under the bundle of notes out of Goering's safe, and removing his shoe he drew the pages out from the false sole. The script consisted of six folded sheets of transparent paper, all of which were almost entirely covered with close type. It was a carbon copy and evidently the original had been done by an amateur as there were many typing errors and crossings out. Gregory deduced that whoever had typed it had been unused to such work and did not wish to have to do it a second time but wanted as many copies as possible. It was in German and headed: "ARRANGE MENTS FOR THE NEXT FAMILY DAY".

Gregory read the first page and it appeared to consist of somebody's scheme to hold a big family meeting which was to include the discussion of certain business plans.

Many relatives were mentioned, mostly by their Christian names, and none of these conveyed anything to Gregory. There was no date on it and no signature at its end. The script was thumbed and dirty so he was inclined to think that it had been got out by some old gentleman who was a remote relative of Goering's and who at some time or other had wished to rope in the now famous 'Hermann' for some big social gathering that he was planning…

It seemed that he had risked his neck for a document which had no political significance whatever, so with considerable disappointment he folded it and put it back into his shoe for further examination when he had more leisure. He had only just relaced his shoe when Freddie came bursting into the room. His face was flushed, his eyes shining.

"Isn't it marvellous?" he cried. "Angela's here that was her I ran into downstairs a few minutes ago."

"I had a sort of suspicion that it might be," Gregory smiled, "and I gather it didn't take you long to make up your quarrel either."

"Quarrel?" Freddie repeated with surprise. "Oh, we never quarrelled really we've always loved each other."

"Splendid. Anyhow, I thought she looked a most lovely person and I'm more happy for you than I can possibly say, Freddie. But what's she doing in Helsinki?"

"Her father was transferred from our Consulate at Amsterdam to our Consulate here a fortnight ago. Apparently the pressure of work here has been increasing ever since the war started so Mr. Fordyce was sent out to lend a hand. He's a widower, you know, so wherever he goes Angela always goes too, to look after him. They want us both to lunch with them. If it's O.K, by you, I said we'd meet them downstairs in about ten minutes' time."

Gregory laughed. "I shall be delighted to lunch if they won't mind my slipping away immediately afterwards. I've got an appointment with a man at the Finnish Foreign Office for three o'clock."

"Oh, no, that'll be all right." Freddie dived at his suitcase. "I must get some of these parcels unpacked so that I can have a wash and change into my new clothes; then we'll get down to the lounge again."

Downstairs they found that the Fordyce’s had secured a table and were with difficulty retaining two empty chairs for their guests as the lounge was absolutely packed with people. Half the population of Helsinki seemed to have assembled there to see as many of their acquaintances as possible and discuss the latest rumours.

While Freddie made the introductions Gregory was smilingly taking in the father and daughter. Mr. Fordyce was a tallish man still in his early forties and as yet had not a single grey hair on his dark, smooth head. His double breasted lounge suit was of grey Glenurquhart tweed and he was unmistakably English. Angela was even prettier than Gregory had supposed from his first glimpse of her. Like her father she was dark and had blue eyes, a combination which suggested a touch of Irish blood in the family, but her skin was of that smooth whiteness which is spoken of as magnolia blossom and sometimes found in a special type of dark beauty. Gregory noticed that she used very little make up and thought that just a touch more colour on her lips and cheeks would have made her still lovelier; for her eyes, however, nature could not have been improved upon, as she had long, dark, curling lashes.

After a glass of aquavit they went into the crowded dining room and enjoyed an excellent meal. The smoked salmon which is as cheap in Finland as herrings are in England was, curiously enough, not of such good quality as that usually served in London; but the mussel soup was delicious, as the mussels in which the Finnish coast abounds had not been out of the sea for more than an hour. Stuffed pike, cooked over a wood fire, followed and afterwards Gregory and Freddie tried their first bear steaks. Ordinarily, bear meat is inclined to be tough but this had been treated with oil in the same way as the Italians prepare a tournado and the meat had a distinctive, rather pleasant flavour of its own. To celebrate Freddie's and Angela's unexpected reunion Mr. Fordyce stood them champagne, and they finished up with a good selection of cheeses and Turkish coffee.

As they were celebrating the meal was naturally a gay one but most of the faces about them were grave and anxious owing to the crisis. Many of the women in the room were quite good looking but very few of them had on any make up; the lack of which left their faces curiously colourless compared with the usual restaurant crowd in London, and Freddie remarked upon the fact.

"My dear," Angela laughed, "didn't you know that for a girl to paint her face is the one deadly sin in Finland? That's why I make up so little here. The tarts use cosmetics as a badge of their profession but even they use only as little as possible just enough to show that they are tarts otherwise they would never be able to attract the better class of men."

"I see," Gregory smiled across at her. "I thought it must be because they were rather puritanical, the old Protestant strain coming out. The Finns are said to be rather like the Scots in many ways, I believe, and nothing is more dreary than a Sunday in Scotland. They are Protestants, aren't they?"

"Yes, Lutherans," Fordyce volunteered. “And, curiously enough, Christianity was brought to them by an Englishman. King Eric the IXth of Sweden undertook, in 1157, a crusade to convert the heathen Finns, and with him he took his English chaplain, Bishop Henry of Upsala, who baptized the population en masse. The unfortunate Henry was assassinated the following year; but he evidently made himself popular with the Finns, as they canonized him and made him their patron saint.

"You're right about the Finns having much in common with the Scots, too. They're thrifty, hard working people with a passion for education and the same sort of dogged courage which has made the Scots such splendid pioneers all over the world… The Finns are also great travellers; but as they have no Colonies to settle in, all their more adventurous young men become sailors and they serve principally in British and American ships."

Gregory nodded. "I imagine it's the long winter nights which make people in the northern countries like Scotland and Scandinavia so keen on education plenty of time for reading and once people get interested in books they almost always educate themselves."

"Yes. They are terrific readers. You've only got to look at the bookshops here to see that. Practically every worth while book that comes out is translated into Finnish, and a bookseller was telling me the other day that the editions they print are very often as large as those printed in England; which is absolutely staggering considering the relative smallness of the population.

"This business of make up, then," Freddie brought the conversation back, "is, I suppose, due to the same sort of strict morality that the Church of Scotland enforces so far as it can?"

"Oh, no. It's not that they're the least straight laced," Angela hastened to assure him. "In fact, women are remarkably free here and the Finns have a passionate belief in the equality of the sexes. They were the first people to give women the vote; and if a servant girl here has an illegitimate child nobody thinks any the worse of her: she just stays on in her job and the child’s adopted into the family.'

Glancing at his watch Gregory saw that it was nearly half past two, and he wanted to be in plenty of time for his appointment at the Finnish Foreign Office so he stood up and excused himself.

Having collected his furs from the cloakroom he thrust his way through the jam of people in the hall to the desk and said to the fair haired clerk who had booked him in: "I want those papers back now that I gave you just before midday to put in the hotel safe."

The fair man Looked 'at him in blank surprise. "But you sent for them yourself half an hour ago, sir." He reached into a drawer and produced a chit. "We have your signature for them."

Chapter XIII

The Beautiful Erika Von Epp

Told you not to give that packet to anyone-on any pretext," Gregory snarled, the second he could give expression to his amazement and anger.

The clerk gave back before his angry scowl. "But, sir, you» aid you would be wanting the packet again after lunch and I thought…"

"But you say you gave it to someone half an hour ago. It would then have been barely two o'clock."

"In Helsinki many people lunch at midday, sir, and would have finished by then. I thought you were busy, perhaps, and so had sent your friend to collect your parcel."

"If I had, he would have produced the receipt you gave me; and I still have it here. What have you to say to that?"

"Only, sir, that visitors are often careless and mislay the receipts we give them. We consider it quite satisfactory if instead of the original receipt we have the visitor's signature for anything deposited. And here is yours." The clerk extended the slip of paper again.

Gregory glanced at it. "That's not my signature."

"Well, it's very like it, sir." The man shrugged apologetically and pointed to the place in the visitor's book where Gregory himself had written his name earlier that day. The forgery would not have been passed by a bank but it was a pretty fair imitation, and as Gregory, stared at the fair, blue-eyed, bespectacled clerk he suddenly formed a very shrewd suspicion as to what had occurred.

The man behind the desk might be of Finnish nationality but he was certainly not one hundred per cent. Finnish. The Finns have no blood ties with other Scandinavian peoples-they are a race apart-and the only nation to which they are allied y blood and language is Hungary, for over a thousand years ago a colony of Finns migrated into middle-Europe and settled round Lake Balaton. The Finns are of two main types-the Karelians, who come from the North and the East and are a gay, pleasure-loving people, and the Tavastlanders, from the South and the West, who provide the more sober element-but neither, has any resemblance to the Teutons; whereas the clerk's square head and thick neck betrayed his German origin.

That, almost certainly, was the key to what had transpired. The fellow was either a German or had relatives in Germany, which enabled the Gestapo agents in Helsinki to exert pressure on him. As part of his secret duties he had evidently reported that an Englishman had lodged a packet of important papers with him. The member of the Gestapo to whom he reported had then copied Gregory's signature out of the visitors' book and made the clerk hand over the packet.

Gregory knew that he could create a fuss, send for the manager, threaten to sue the hotel and call in the police; but none of these things would get back his vitally-important papers. He swiftly made up his mind that he would try to get the clerk sacked later, if he had time to spare, as the man was dangerous; but there was not a second to lose now. With the smallest possible delay he must try to get on the track of whoever had stolen the packet.

"What was the name of the man to whom you gave my papers?" he asked quickly.

"I don't know, sir."

"Is he staying in the hotel?"

"Oh, no."

"But you knew him?"

"Yes. He has been in here several times in the last two days." "D'you know where he lives?"

The clerk smiled blandly, with almost open insolence. "Na, sir, I haven't the least idea."

"All right. Describe him to me," Gregory snapped. "And remember this: the packet was such a big one that somebody must have noticed you handing it across the counter, and one of the porters would certainly have seen the man walk out with it. I'll have every person in the hotel questioned and if I find that you've lied to me about his description I'll have you put in prison for aiding and abetting a theft. Now, then!"

The clerk wilted slightly as he protested. `But I wouldn't dream of lying to you, sir, and the management will be most distressed about this unfortunate occurrence. The man said you had sent him for the packet and produced your signature, otherwise I should never have given it to him. He was a big man, very strong, I should say, but rather fat. He had fair hair, cut like a brush in front."

"A German?"

"I couldn't say, sir, but he spoke to me in English and I thought he might be Scandinavian or Dutch. He had a heavy, pasty face, spoke in a shrill voice and was wearing a black patch over his left eye.

It was all Gregory could do to suppress an exclamation. The description exactly fitted his old enemy,Herr Gruppenführer Grauber, the chief of the Gestapo Foreign Department, U.A.-1. What was Grauber doing in Finland? But that was easy. Grauber had his spies and agents in every capital and, naturally, now that Finland had become the new storm-centre of the war the Gestapo agents there would be working overtime. Grauber must have come to superintend their activities in person. He had probably walked into the hotel a little before two o'clock, glanced down the visitors' book and seen Gregory's name there. in questioning the clerk he would have learned about the packet that had been deposited and immediately decided that, Whatever the papers were, they were very well worth getting hold of if they belonged to Gregory Sallust. With the clerk's connivance it had been a simple matter to copy the signature from the visitors' book and secure the packet.

By giving a correct description of Grauber the clerk had cleared himself of all but suspicion of complicity, while definitely confirming Gregory's conviction as to the manner in which the papers had been stolen. The fact that Grauber had obtained them under false pretences was of no immediate help, as with the Finnish crisis at its height it would take hours-if not days-to get a warrant for his arrest.

Without another word to the clerk Gregory turned abruptly away It was unlikely that he would be able to get hold of monsieur Wuolijoki before three o'clock, but Erika must have been in Helsinki for the last three weeks and through her connections among the German colony she would be certain to know something of Gestapo activities in the Finnish capital.

Crossing to the hall-porter, he gave him another lavish tip for the use of the telephone in his office and rang up the von Kobenthals. When he had asked for the Countess von Osterberg was told to hold the line and a moment later a low, husky rice, that made his hand tremble as he held the receiver, said:

"Hallo? Who is that?"

"Colonel- Baron yon Lutz," Gregory replied.

There was a little pause and then her voice came again. "I know your name, of course, Herr Oberst-Baron, but I don't think we have met. What can I do for you?"

"Oh, but we have met." Gregory allowed a smile to creep into his voice. "I last saw you at a farm-house outside Berlin, on the night of November the 8th."

There was a little gasp 1 then a swift whisper. "Gregory, is it you? It must be you. Oh, darling "

"Hush” Gregory whispered back. "For God's sake be careful. Can I come up and ‘see you right away?"

"Yes, yes, at once-instantly."

"It is Colonel-Baron von Lutz speaking. You will remember that, won't .you? I'll be with you within a quarter of an hour."

Replacing the receiver, Gregory pushed his way through the crush back to the crowded dinning room where the Fordyce’s and Freddie were sitting.

"Is anything wrong?" Mr. Fordyce inquired, on seeing Gregory's anxious face.

"Yes." Gregory bent down and lowered his voice. "A Gestapo agent has made off with my papers."

"How damnable Was there anything very important amongst them?"

"They may make the difference between peace and war here in the next twenty-four hours."

Fordyce stood up quickly. "Is there anything that I can do to help? An introduction to the Chief of Police? I'll take you round to him personally if you like."

Gregory shook his head. "No; thanks all the same. We mustn't involve you in this owing to your official position. My situation is a very complicated one. Freddie will tell you all about it. Fortunately I know the man who stole them; he's an old enemy of mine namedGruppenführer Grauber, so I've at least got that to start with."

"What, the chap you told me all about?" Freddie exclaimed… "The fellow whose eye you bashed in on the night of the Army Putsch in Berlin?"

"Yes, that's the man. I must fly now and pull every gun I know to get possession of those papers again before Grauber can send them out of the country."

"When can we expect you back?" asked Freddie.

"I can't say for certain, but I'll try to return between five and

six. Still, don't bother about me. You're out of all this now and it's your own affair if you stay here or make arrangements for getting back to England."

"Good lord, no 1 I'm not quitting at this stage," Freddie announced quickly, "and I'll be standing by to give you a hand any time you want one."

"Thanks, Freddie, thanks. I'm glad you feel that way, because the chances are that I'll need all the unofficial help that I can get."

With a nod Gregory hurried away. The porter got him a taxi and he drove through the cold, sunny streets lined with their snow-covered buildings to the address of the von Kobenthals. It proved to be a long, low house standing in its own grounds, above one of the many bays along the shore, with a fine view of the scores of little islands which fringe the coast-line of South Finland.

He gave the name of Colonel-Baron von Lutz to a trim maid, who was evidently expecting him for she led the way straight across the hall to a comfortable sitting-room that overlooked the sea. Erika was waiting near the window, her eyes fixed on the door, waiting for him.

Inside the room he paused, drinking in once more all the perfection of her loveliness; her golden hair, her widely-spaced, deep-blue eyes, her generous mouth, the regal carriage of her lead, her slim, beautifully-moulded figure. He knew that she was twenty-eight, but, in spite of her hard youth when half Germany was starving and the life of intrigue she had led since, she did not look a day over twenty-five. She was one of the very few German women he had ever known who had both the taste to dress well and the courage to ignore Nazi convention, which decrees that women's duty is to be useful rather than decorative she was dressed very simply now but not a hair of her head was out of place and she carried herself with the air of a princess.

For a long moment they stood gazing at each other. The door closed behind Gregory; then without a word she was in his arms. They clung together as though they would never let each they go; not kissing, but cheek to cheek, straining together in fast embrace. Suddenly Erika gulped and began to cry.

"Darling," Gregory murmured. "Darling, what is it? We're together again now."

"I know," she echoed, "I know. But it's too much; I can't bear it."

He laughed gently. "But, dearest, I've never seen you cry before."

"I- I haven't cried for years. I'm hard as nails-you know I am-at least, I was before I met you. I despise women who cry, but this-oh, I can't believe it's true." She dug her pointed nails into his shoulders.

"Yes, it's true, my sweet." He began to kiss her very tenderly; then with increasing passion until their mouths were locked in a long, breathless kiss.

Ten minutes later she was curled up on his knees in an armchair listening as he began to tell her how he had found out where she was and how he had managed to reach Finland himself. He left all details till later, giving her only the bare facts of how he had been shot down on his way out of Germany the night they had parted taken refuge in the woods. managed to get back to Berlin to look for her… seen Goering… become the Marshal's secret emissary and had his papers stolen by Grauber less than an hour before.

When he had done, he said: "Now where D’you think Grauber will have taken that packet? To the German Legation?"

She shook her golden head. "No. Goering has too many friends there, so Grauber wouldn't trust those papers to the Legation safe."

"Wait a minute," Gregory interrupted. "He can have no idea-thank God where I got all that stuff. My letter of introduction from Goering is still in my pocket so the Marshal's not involved. Grauber will assume that I managed to get back to Berlin and stole those papers somehow."

"Good. I'm glad for Hermann's sake that Grauber doesn't know the part he played. He's quite capable of looking after himself but its better that he should choose his own time to have a row with von Ribbentrop on the question of major policy."

"That's exactly what he said to me himself."

"But what about the report? Won't that give things away?"

"No. I might have drafted that myself or it might have been compiled for me by a high-up German official in the pay of the British. Grauber will know that I couldn't have stolen all those documents without some sort of inside help. The thing is-what will he do now he's got them?"

"It's difficult to say," Erika replied thoughtfully. "There's no point in his sending them back to Berlin unless he can find out where you got them. That would simply be sending coals to Newcastle. He certainly won't hand them over to the Finnish Government, because he is Himmler's man and Himmler and von Ribbentrop are hand-in-glove. Von Ribbentrop naturally wants Finland to accede to Russia’s demands without fighting so that there should be no further excuse for Russia’s delaying supplies which he is counting on from her. Grauber won't pass the papers to the Soviet Legation here, either; there would be no point in doing that and it would only show how much we know of Russia’s real weakness. As far as I can see, he will simply put them in his own safe at Gestapo headquarters."

"They have a headquarters here, then?"

Erika smiled, showing her small, even, white teeth. "Is there a capital in the world where the Gestapo have not got a headquarters? Their H.Q. is a fair-sized private house in the north eastern suburbs of the city. It's almost country out there and I suppose that's why they chose it; they didn't want too many people constantly watching their comings and goings. Every German in Helsinki knows it, though."

"Well, it's one of the things I wanted to know and it looks is if our chance of getting back my packet is by robbing the safe there." '

"That's easier said than done."

"Don't I know it, darling? D'you think we could get any help 'from the Finns?"

"It all depends. To whom was your letter of introduction 'from Goering addressed?"

"It's not addressed to anyone but he told me to present it to Monsieur Wuolijoki, at the Finnish Foreign Office."

"Oh, Wuolijoki-he's a grand little man; I've met him at parties several times during the last few weeks. He's very pro-German; but by that I mean he's pro my kind of German not Hitler's."

"Yes, I gathered that from Goering. But what matters now is-do you think he's the sort of chap who would be prepared to risk his job by adopting very unorthodox methods in the service of his country?"

"I don't know. But these Finns are extraordinarily patriotic. Both Germans and British consider themselves patriotic people gut I don't think either of us has this love for our country so deeply in us as the Finns. Perhaps it's because they have only had theirs as a free people for such a little time. Every one of `the men whom I have talked to these last few days says he would much rather fight than give in to Russia; and by that they don't mean fight as our peoples would-with a good chance of coming back alive or, if they're wounded, being evacuated to a comfortable hospital where they'll have every attention until they're well again. By fight they really mean go out and die; because even the most optimistic of them know that Finland can't possibly stand up to Russia’s weight of numbers. They're openly- making bets with each other as to how many Russians each of them will kill before he is killed himself."

Gregory remained silent for a moment. By his impostures in England, France and Germany he had caused the death of numerous innocent people, through no fault of his own. It was just his luck that he had managed to get away whereas they had been caught and had died as a result of their association with him; yet he had left a scarlet trail of blood behind him. Now he was an impostor once more, posing as Colonel-Baron von Lutz; and to what end? To plunge a whole nation into war when perhaps the wholesale suffering and death which war would inevitably bring might possibly be avoided.

He sighed. "Poor fellows, it's pretty frightful for them, isn't it? And it makes me feel an utter swine to think that it's my job to try to persuade their Government to take the step which will make their sacrifice necessary, when their lives would at least be safe if they gave Russia what she wants."

Erika shook her head. "They don't want their lives at such a price; and I believe they're right about that. It's not only the dishonour they would feel in having given up everything that they've worked for these last twenty years; they know that once they allowed the Reds through the Mannerheim Line no-one's life or liberty would be safe in Finland. All the writers, the officers, the capitalists, the deputies and the leaders of Finnish thought would be shot. The Universities and schools would be closed; there would be riots among the students and the Red Guards would shoot them down. Then Stalin would conscript the leaderless masses for forced labour and transport them into the depths of Russia. It would be the same frightful business of race extermination as is now going on in Poland. In five years' time there wouldn't be a Finn left in Finland."

"No. I suppose that's true," Gregory agreed, "and rioting wouldn't do them any good once the Reds were in here. If they're going to fight they must fight now. Holding the Mannerheim Line is the only chance they've got. If only they had an Air Force as good as their Army-small as it is-I'd be a bit happier about things, though."

"Yes. That'll be the worst part-the bombing. But the women here seem as brave as the men, and they've made up their minds to face it."

"We'll pray they don't have to. After all, everybody thought that the Germans would bomb London the first day of the war; but they didn't; they haven't bombed it yet. There's just a chance that Stalin may not be altogether indifferent to world opinion and may refrain from using his Air Force on that account. But let's get back to Wuolijoki. I've got an appointment with him at three o'clock-as von Lutz, of course-so I'll keep it, present Goering's letter, tell him what's happened and ask his help."

"If you're going to ask him for any assistance which might prejudice his official position I think you'd better see him here. Even walls have ears, as they say, and I doubt if the Finnish Foreign Office is any exception."

"My clever sweetheart," he kissed the backs of her fingers one by one, "how right you are. And even if there's no leakage to the outside world, we don't want to compromise Wuolijoki with his own people should he be game to help us. D'you think you could persuade him to come out here?"

Erica released herself from his embrace, stood up, smoothed out her skirt and walked over to the telephone. "I'll try," she smiled.

It took her a quarter of an hour to get through but at last she was connected with Wuolijoki and told him that the person with whom he had an appointment at three o'clock was with her. For special reasons, which she could not explain, it was highly desirable that the interview should take place in private so, she asked, could he come out to the von Kobenthals'?

Wuolijoki said that he was frantically busy but that if the matter was really urgent he would endeavour to do so about tea-time. Erika assured him that it was of the utmost importance and begged him to come out at once. but the best he could do was to promise that he would definitely call between four and half-past. She then hung up.

She had hardly told Gregory the result of her conversation when they both caught the sound of a low, distant murmur like the rushing of a great wind. "Planes " exclaimed Gregory, and they both ran to the window.

As they reached it the murmur increased to a thunderous roar and, staring out over the snow-covered islands of the bay up into the pale-blue sky, they saw scores of black dots which within a few seconds took shape as great black war-planes rushing towards them. It was squadron after squadron of the Red Air Force coming up across the Gulf of Finland from their new bases in Estonia, less than fifty miles away.

Chapter XIV

To Singe The Gestapo’s Beard

GRABBING Erika's arm as the leading planes hurtled low overhead, Gregory ran her towards the door. "Quick” he cried, as he flung it open. "Where's the cellar?"

"It's only a demonstration," she protested, pulling back. "We should have been certain to have heard of it if war had been declared."

"It may be a demonstration with bombs," he said grimly. "Nobody ever declares war these days, so we're not taking any chances. If I were manning a machine-gun I'd stay aboveground and see the fun but only fools risk their necks when they're powerless to help with any form of retaliation. If we're wounded we'll only make more work for the ambulance men. Come on Where's that cellar?"

"You're right." Erika had to shout to ensure herself being heard above the din that the planes were now making as they circled within a hundred feet of the roof-tops. "This way. The von Kobenthals have converted one of the rooms in the basement into an air-raid shelter."

She led him downstairs and along a corridor to a room, the ceiling of which had been shored up with big baulks of timber and its windows, only half of which were above ground-level, were protected with sand-bags. A fat woman-obviously the cook-was sitting there knitting and the maid who had let Gregory in was with her. The von Kobenthals were out, and two days before they had packed their two children and governess off to Sweden; but it soon transpired that a third maid was somewhere in the house, so forbidding Erika and the others to leave the room Gregory went up to look for her.

He found the girl in the back-garden, hands on hips, calmly staring up at the great black planes which might discharge their lewdly cargoes at any moment; but she understood German and on Gregory's ordering her into the house she reluctantly accompanied him down to the basement.

Erika had turned on a wireless and had managed to pick up some dance-music which partially drowned the deep booming note of the planes. They sat there for some twenty minutes, but no bombs fell and, as the Finnish anti-aircraft squads kept their heads, no guns opened fire. Then the booming ceased and they knew that the Red air-armada had gone home after only showing itself as a ghastly threat to the people of Helsinki.

Upstairs in the sitting-room again Gregory found that it was only a little after three o'clock so there was still at least an hour to wait before Wuolijoki could be expected. There was nothing that he could do in the meantime so he and Erika were free to curl up on the sofa and glory in the joy of being together again while, in snatches of talk that were interspersed with frequent kisses, they exchanged particulars of what had befallen them during the time they had been separated. At four o'clock he reluctantly released her so that she could go and tidy her hair before Wuolijoki put in an appearance.

Soon after tea had been brought in Wuolijoki arrived. He was a small, dark man, only a few years older than Gregory; his eyes were black and quick with a humorous twinkle in them and as he spoke he used his hands all the time to gesture, like a Frenchman.

Erika introduced Gregory as Oberst-Baron von Lutz. Gregory clicked his heels and bowed in the approved manner; he then presented his letter of introduction from Goering.

Wuolijoki read it through carefully and handed it back. "May I see your passport, Herr Oberst-Baron?" he inquired blandly.

"Certainly." Gregory produced the German one that had been made out for him.

Wuolijoki flicked through it and returned it as he said: "That is all in order. Welcome to Finland, Baron. How did you leave our good friend the Marshal?"

"Well but worried," Gregory replied. "He is entirely satisfied as to the progress that Germany’s war effort is making but he is gravely concerned for Finland."

"Ah," Wuolijoki shot out his hands, "our dilemma is a terrible one indeed but it is good to know that we have the sympathy of the Marshal and all those sound elements which he represents in the new Germany. Where is this document, mentioned in the letter, which he states will be of such great assistance to us?"

"At the moment I believe that it's in the safe at the Helsinki Gestapo headquarters."

"But was it wise to leave it there? Unfortunately all Germans are not as yourselves and it is in the interests of the von Ribbentrop party that we should give way to Russia."

"I didn't leave it there," Gregory confessed. "I meant to bring it to you personally this afternoon but it was stolen from me at about two o'clock. It's for that reason we asked you to come here. I wanted to ask you outside the Foreign Office if you could give me your assistance to get it back."

Wuolijoki gasped; bowed to Erika as she handed him a glass of milk less tea with lemon and sugar, sat down and said: "What a blow This is a major calamity. Do you know what was in the document?"

"Yes. It's quite impossible for me to remember all the details with which it is packed, because it. took Marshal Goering nearly six hours to dictate, but I was with him the whole time so I can give you a general resume of its contents." Gregory then proceeded to describe Goering's Herculean effort and ended up by relating how the package had been stolen from him by Grauber that morning.

"Why should a Gestapo agent steal a German officer's papers?" asked Wuolijoki; and Gregory knew that he was on difficult ground. It had been essential to use his fake British passport at the air-port, otherwise he would have been faced with all sorts of awkward questions as to why he had arrived in the company of an R.A.F. pilot; and, in case of a check-up by the police, to use it again at the hotel afterwards. But on no account must Wuolijoki be allowed to suspect that the Colonel Baron was really an Englishman, for the Finnish diplomat would then never believe that he had come from Goering and, owing to his extreme pro-German feelings, would change at once from a potential friend to a dangerous enemy. But Gregory was prepared for such a question and replied calmly:

"Because he knows that I was one of the officers concerned in the recent Army Putsch. It was for that reason Marshal Goering chose me as his messenger. I have been in hiding on my estate in Brandenburg for the past three weeks so I'm no longer on the Army register and am presumed either to be dead or to have escaped abroad. Therefore the Marshal was able to send me out of the country without arousing the suspicion which would

have attached to the sudden disappearance of one of his own staff.'

The Finnish diplomat appeared satisfied as he said: "I suppose this man, Grauber, got on to you when you checked in it the air-port? The Gestapo would almost certainly have one of their spies among our officials there."

"No. We thought of that, and to evade such a possibility the Marshal gave me a faked British passport and a British prisoner-of-war pilot, who agreed, as the price of his liberty, to bring me over. He also provided us with a Belgian plane. Grauber got on to me at the Hotel Kamp because I am posing here as a British subject."

Gregory lit a cigarette and puffed it with considerable satisfaction. He felt that he had very neatly circumvented a nasty snag which might have arisen at any time if Wuolijoki had happened to hear that a man answering the description of colonel-Baron von Lutz had arrived in Finland on a British passport and accompanied by a British flying-officer.

"The Cabinet are sitting now," said Wuolijoki suddenly. 'They have been in almost perpetual session for the last three lays but they will take their final decision to-night. Our great patriot, Marshal Mannerheim, is urging them to fight and the people are behind him; but the Government still hesitate. They are afraid not for themselves but of the terrible responsibility that will rest upon their shoulders if our women and children are massacred and our towns and villages devastated by Russian combs. I fear that the Red Air-Force demonstration over Helsinki an hour ago will seriously have weakened the moderates among them, who may now go over to the 'peace at-any-price' party."

It's by no means certain that there will be air-raids in the event of war," Gregory argued. "We Germans have so far refrained from bombing London."

"That is true. And I think that in any case the Cabinet would decide to fight if only they could be certain that the Red army will not overrun the country in the course of a few days. Marshal Mannerheim declares that he can hold his line, but if he's wrong it would be pointless for us to call upon our people to sacrifice their lives."

"You agree, though, that you would be justified in doing so if the line could be held?"

"Certainly. If we could prevent a Russian break-through for a month there would be a real hope of saving our country.

Norway and Sweden know that we shall be fighting their battle as well as our own and even if they do not openly declare against Russia they will send us munitions, planes and volunteers. Every country in the world will recognize that we are championing the ideals of Christian civilization against the evils of atheistic tyranny and they will send us aid of some kind or other. But meanwhile we shall be as David before Goliath, with only the courage of our own little army to throw into the scale against the enormous weight of the Russian masses."

"Marshal Goering's report on the state of the Red Army will convince even your most pessimistic Ministers that Finland can hold out for a month on her own; I'm certain of it," Gregory said swiftly.

"In that case it is vital that we should get it back; but how do you propose that I should help you?"

"Could you find some pretext for your police to raid the Gestapo Headquarters?"

"Wuolijoki shook his head. This is a free country, my friend-not Russia; we do not use such methods here."

"But if the fate of Finland depends upon it," urged Erika. "After all, it is not like asking you to raid the German Legation, which might create an international incident."

The little man turned quickly towards her. "True,Frau Gräfin

. We have no official knowledge that the Gestapo have a Headquarters here at all; it is a private house out in the suburbs, leased by a German citizen. But that does not alter the position. Private property here is sacred whether owned by a Finn or a foreigner."

"If I attempted to burgle the place on my own," Gregory said, "I shouldn't stand a dog's chance; and even if I could get as far as the safe, I have only the most rudimentary knowledge of safe-breaking. That's why our only hope is a raid which will keep the occupants of the place busy while somebody who understands such things tackles the safe. I take it that unofficially you would raise no objection if I organized such a raid privately?"

"Ah; that is a different matter."

"If there is any excitement out there are the police likely to come on the scene quickly?"

"No, no. It is quite distant from the centre of the city. Your only danger of that kind would be from a solitary patrolling policeman."

"Good. Could you provide me with bombs and a safebreaker?"

Wuolijoki raised his eyebrows. "The use of bombs might cause loss of life. It seems that you are prepared to go to any lengths, Baron?"

"Certainly; for your sake as well as mine, since the independence of Finland is at stake. I shall need incendiary-bombs to cause a fire which will keep Grauber and his people occupied while the safe-breaking is going on."

"I must warn you that our police would take a very serious view of such methods, but I could certainly get you a couple of bombs."

"How about a safe-breaker? Your police must know of a man who would be prepared to take on the job if his immunity were guaranteed. He would have to speak German, English, or French, though, so that I could tell him what I wanted done."

Wuolijoki nodded. "That is more difficult, as no immunity could be granted; but a friend of mine in the police might know a safe-breaker who would risk a prison-sentence in the service of his country."

"How about the lay-out of the house? Do you happen to know it?"

"No; but I could easily find someone who does. At what time do you propose to make your raid?"

"The sooner the better; it's dark already. The time must depend upon how long it will take you get me my bombs, my safe-breaker and a rough plan of the house."

Wuolijoki glanced at his watch. "It is now ten past five. Three hours should be enough. Shall we say nine o'clock? I will return here then with all that is necessary." As he spoke he stood up, kissed Erika's hand and shook hands with Gregory. "Forgive me if I leave you now, but my own work is overwhelming and this business gives me many additional things that must be done. Till nine o'clock, then."

When the diplomat had gone Gregory smiled at Erika. "Well, that's that; we're on the move again, thank goodness."

She took his arm and drew him down beside her. "Yes, darling, I know; but the risk you're taking is terrible. There will be at least a dozen Gestapo men in that place-probably more-and they'll all be armed."

"Yes; it's going to be tough work," he agreed. "But it won't be worse than the Adlon on the night of November the 8th, and I’ll have the advantage of surprise. They won't be expecting anything of this kind in law-abiding Helsinki and I promise you, sweet, I won't take any risk that's not absolutely necessary; I never do."

"But if you have to kill anybody you may get into frightful trouble. The Finns have an enormous respect for their own law and I doubt if even the knowledge that you had killed a man in their interests would influence a Finnish court in your favour."

"Well, let's not think of the Vistula until we're over the Rhine," Gregory smiled.

"But the Rhine in this case is about as deadly as it possibly could be. Oh, my darling, I can't bear to think of you risking your life again within a few hours after your return to me; and to go into that place alone is like a soldier attacking a machinegun nest single-handed."

"I'm not going in alone. I'm certain that I can count on at least one fellow to go in with me." Gregory disentangled himself again, and added: "May I use your telephone?"

"Of course."

"Thanks." He went over, and getting through to Freddie at the Hotel Kamp asked him to come out to the von Kobenthals' house at once.

While they were waiting for him the von Kobenthals came in. Fredeline von Kobenthal 'Erika’s cousin as it transpired was a pretty, but rather stupid-looking blonde of about thirty; and Oscar, her husband, a well-set-up, fair, blue-eyed, moustached man of about the same age. He had always been anti-Nazi and had been wise enough to get his money out of Germany and settle in Finland several years before, while von Hindenburg was still President and Hitler only a menacing figure upon the political horizon.

With the hospitality customary among Germans of good family they greeted Oberst-Baron von Lutz most charmingly and expressed their hope that he would make his home with them during his stay in Helsinki.

Gregory accepted with spontaneous gratitude although, privately, he doubted if events would enable him to make much use of their invitation. Von Kobenthal got on the telephone at once and gave instructions at the hotel that Gregory's things should be packed and brought out there as soon as possible.

They had hardly settled the matter when Charlton was announced, and Gregory introduced him as the British officer who had regained his liberty by agreeing to fly him secretly to’ Finland. At first the von Kobenthals were distinctly cold in heir reception of Freddie, as their country was at war with his, but they gradually thawed out when they found that their new acquaintance, the Oberst-Baron, whom they had instantly accepted as one of themselves, had made a friend of the young airman.

It was a tricky business but Gregory managed it well, and 'Freddie played up splendidly to the leads he was given. As soon as he could Gregory switched the conversation to the Finnish crisis. Having explained that although Germany and England were at war it was to their common interest that Finland should resist Russia, he disclosed to the von Kobenthals-who knew Goering-the reason for his presence in Finland and the extremely difficult situation which had arisen as the result of the loss of his papers. Then he went on to outline his plans for the raid on the Gestapo Headquarters that night.

When he had finished, his secret hopes were gratified as von, Kobenthal said at once: "I'm heart and soul with the Finns; they’re splendid people and have been extraordinarily kind to my wife and myself since we've made our home here. They've got to fight unless they want to be exterminated, and as you're acting for Goering that's quite enough for me; I'll come with you."

Freddie then took his cue and said in halting German: "I'm not interested in Field-Marshal Goering but I'd do anything to give these poor wretched Finns a hand, and since my country s fighting to maintain the rights of small nations, in this particular case our interests, so far as I can see, are identical. You can count me in too."

It was an amazing situation that a German and an Englishman, and an Englishman who was posing as a German, should be quite prepared to forget that their countries were in a death grapple for world supremacy and make common cause for what they all considered to be right to the extent of risking their lives in the same venture; but the crisis was having an extraordinary effect on the psychology of everyone in the Finnish capital and by the time champagne-cocktails had been served they were all talking together as though no state of war had ever existed Between Germany and Britain.

Dinner would have been a gay affair had it not been for the undercurrent of fear for their men which tugged at the heartstrings of the two women, but they both did their best to hide their anxiety and the party was still busy with coffee and liqueurs when Wuolijoki was announced.

With him he had brought a little wizened individual with shaggy hair who smiled politely at everybody in a rather embarrassed way.

The Finnish diplomat was an old friend of the von Kobenthals so Charlton was the only member of the company unknown to him. Erika performed the introductions and informed him at once that everyone there knew about the projected raid. Wuolijoki returned Freddie's smile with a frigid bow but he accepted the story that the British airman had earned his freedom from a prisoners-of-war camp by flying Gregory to Finland and made no comment on the Englishman's willingness to co-operate with the Germans in their anti Gestapo activities. He then presented his small companion as Mr. Suki, a gentleman with very extensive knowledge of safes and a particular aptitude for dealing with combination-locks.

Mr. Suki nodded to them with a rather sheepish grin and gratefully accepted the drink that von Kobenthal poured out for him, as Wuolijoki hurried on:

"There has been a major development since I was here this afternoon. The `peace' party in the Cabinet have gained the upper hand and have now agreed to all the Russian demands with the exception of two."

"That means giving up the Mannerheim Line, then," Erika said quickly.

"Yes,Frau Gräfin. We shall be delivering ourselves, naked and bound, into the hands of the Bolsheviks unless something can be done in the next few hours. For that reason the matter of securing Field-Marshal Goering's report now becomes of the greatest urgency. It is the last hope by which Field-Marshal Mannerheim might yet induce the Government to reconsider their decision and make a stand." Wuolijoki turned to Gregory. "You are still determined to make this attempt,Herr Oberst Baron?"

Gregory nodded. "Yes. And these two gentlemen have volunteered to come with me."

"Good. I had hoped that you might secure private help, since it is impossible for me to give you any officially. You realize, of course, that this whole affair is illegal and that if you are caught you will be answerable for your actions to the Finnish law?"