Traitors' Gate

While Tina stood there staring at him, and nervously clasping and unclasping her hands, he strove to weigh the chances. If he turned tail immediately he would become a hunted man. If he went in to his room and, should the police attempt to arrest him, fought his way free, he would likewise become a hunted man. And, as a hunted man, there could be little hope of his completing the talks that had developed in such a promising way that afternoon. Only one possibility remained of his being able to do that. It was to face the police and do his damnedest to bluff his way out of any charge they might have against him.

Next moment his mind was made up. Since there was just a chance that he might be able to carry through his mission he must take it. With a smile he said to Tina:

'Thank you very much for the warning, but I think I know what it is that the police want to see me about in private.'

Then he walked past her on his way to his room.

Thin Ice

Chapter 8

As soon as Gregory was round the corner of the landing, out of Tina's sight, he transferred his small but deadly automatic from his hip pocket to the right-hand pocket of his jacket. Walking on down the long balcony corridor he did not look ahead but over its open side down towards the restaurant, scrutinizing with new intentness the tall trees that grew among the tables in the courtyard.

It had occurred to him that should he have to make a bolt for it he would stand a better chance of getting out of the hotel quickly if, instead of dashing for the lift or stairs, he jumped into the branches of the nearest tree and shinned down it to the ground. At the moment there were only a few groups of people drinking aperitifs at widely separated tables, and there was an hour or more to go before the courtyard would become crowded with diners and waiters; so the odds were good against his being tripped or caught by grabbing hands as he ran across it.

Having decided on the branch at which he would take a flying leap, he took out the key to his room and inserted it in the lock with his left hand. His right closed about the butt of the automatic in his jacket pocket, he turned the key and pushed the door open.

Monsieur Cochefert of the French Consulate was sitting in the armchair near the window and a plump red-faced young man in the uniform of the Hungarian State Police was perched on the end of the bed. At a glance Gregory also took in the fact that the lids of both his suitcases were a little raised, evidently owing to their contents having been taken out and thrust back into them without the least care. The two men were smoking and looked bored, but a pistol lay ready to Cochefert's hand on the broad arm of the chair in which he was sitting.

The sight of the weapon and the contemptuous lack of any attempt to conceal the fact that his suitcases had been searched confirmed Gregory beyond all doubt in his belief that this was not a routine visit. Having already decided that his best hope lay in attempting to bluff his way through any trouble he raised his eyebrows in feigned astonishment at finding people in his room, then demanding sharply of Cochefert:

'Monsieur! Kindly inform me what you are doing here!'

The Frenchman picked up his gun and came slowly to his feet. His nearly bald head, thin beak of a nose and long scraggy neck protruding from the stiff white collar made Gregory again think of a vulture. With an ironical bow he replied:

'When we met before I neglected to introduce myself fully. I am Captain Jules Cochefert of the Vichy Deuxieme Bureau. My companion, here, is Lieutenant Puttony of the Hungarian Security Service. He does not speak French, and I understand that you talk quite fluent German with the staff in this hotel; so we will use that language.'

Gregory could feel his heart beating slightly faster, as it always did when he was in a dangerous situation; but his brain swiftly registered the implications of the disclosure. Cochefert was not just a minor Civil Servant but an officer of the French 'Quisling' police, who were hand in glove with the Nazis. Evidently something had aroused his suspicions that Commandant Etienne Tavenier might be working against his paymasters. Next moment, with a sardonic grin which displayed two rows of yellowish teeth, he led Gregory to suppose that he was putting the grounds for those suspicions into words by asking:

'How are you progressing with your arrangements for selling truffles to the foie gras factories?'

The sigh of relief that Gregory heaved was internal, but none the less heartfelt. So that was it! The Vadaszkürt had forwarded on to him at Nagykata a list of foie gras firms from the French Commercial Attaché’s office. As he knew nothing of the technicalities of truffle growing and foie gras tinning, he would probably have decided that it was wiser not to expose his ignorance of the subject by calling on any of these people even if he had had the opportunity; but his having been at Nagykata for the past five days had put the matter outside his jurisdiction. Evidently this Paul Pry had learned of his commercial remissness and had assumed that to be evidence that he was engaged in some nefarious activity.

Since entering the room he had kept his hand on his gun; so that at any moment he could have shot through the cloth of his coat before either of his visitors could level a weapon at him. Now, feeling that he had little to fear, he took his hand out of his pocket and said affably:

Oh, I decided that before I got down to work here I'd take…'

He got no further. His hand had hardly left his pocket when Cochefert raised his pistol and snapped:

'Thank you! Shooting through a pocket is rarely accurate but can be dangerous to others. I have been waiting only to relieve you of the temptation to experiment. Put your hands up! The Herr Leutnant will oblige by securing your weapon.'

Mentally cursing at having allowed himself to be tricked, Gregory obliged. The stolid looking Hungarian police officer stepped forward, fished the little automatic out of Gregory's pocket, frisked him quickly to make sure that he was not carrying another, then plumped himself back on the edge of the bed.

'Now!' said the Frenchman, 'I have introduced myself to you. Be good enough to reciprocate.'

Pretending a lack of concern about his situation that he was far from feeling, Gregory replied, 'M. le Capitaine, I fail to understand the reason for all this drama. I come into my room, upon which you jump up grasping a pistol. As I carry one myself I naturally put my hand on it. There is nothing strange in that. Regarding the truffle business, I was about to tell you that I decided to take a few days holiday before calling on any of the foie gras merchants. As for introducing myself, you know already that I am Commandant Etienne Tavenier.'

'That is a lie!' snapped Cochefert with sudden venom.

'What causes you to think so? You have seen my passport.'

'It is a stolen one.'

'Nonsense! The photograph in it could be of no one but myself.'

'Of course. I meant stolen, then tampered with; or perhaps a complete fake made by the British.'

This was really dangerous ground. Gregory could only pray that they had no proof that he had come from London. He launched a violent protest:

'Your suspicions are absurd! There is nothing whatever wrong with the passport. Besides, I can prove my identity in other ways. I have letters, bills…'

Cochefert made an impatient gesture. 'They too will be fakes. It is useless to go on like this. I know beyond all doubt that you are not Commandant Tavenier.'

'What makes you so certain?'

'The fact that for the last two months the Commandant has been living at his own home, at Razac in Perigord.'

These words, spoken with conviction, struck Gregory like a bolt from the blue. It was the very last thing he had expected, and at one stroke destroyed the whole foundation upon which his false identity had been built. Yet, after a moment, he managed to think up a forlorn hope which might save him until further enquiries had been made. With an angry shake of the head, he exclaimed:

'This man must be an impostor! Someone who resembles me, perhaps. But no! I have it! He is a rascally cousin of mine who was also christened Etienne. I have no wife or children to protect my property. The swine would know that I have been missing since May, 1940, and after two years he must have decided to go and live at Razac.'

Lowering the hooded lids of his dark eyes a little Cochefert appeared to consider this. Gregory continued to look indignant; and he had ample cause as he thought of how he had been let down by someone in London. He might have to pay with his life for their blunder in stating that Tavenier was dead when he was not only very much alive but living at his home, and so could be traced without the least difficulty by the Vichy police. After a moment the Frenchman said:

'But you have not been missing since May, 1940. At least, the story you told me was that you got back to France by coming with the British on the St. Nazaire raid; that was towards the end of March this year.'

'True. And that is how I got back.'

'You said, too, that you arrived at Razac early in April. If so your cousin must have known that you were alive and free. How then do you account for his having illegally occupied your property only a few weeks later?'

Gregory saw now that his 'cousin' theory was not going to provide even a temporary loophole. Swiftly changing his ground, he said:

'All right. Since that does not seem to make sense there must be some other explanation. Perhaps you have been misinformed. Yes; that must be it. Police forces are not infallible. I suggest that we postpone this discussion for twenty-four hours while you have fresh enquiries made. I'll bet you a hundred pengos the result will be that there is no one calling himself Etienne Tavenier living at Razac after all.'

'Then you would lose your bet.' Cochefert's vulture head nodded and his yellowish teeth showed in a cynical smile. 'I will tell you now how we know the truth. My first enquiry was only our normal check up with Vichy on all Frenchmen arriving in this country. Vichy reported back that the name Etienne Tavenier was not on the list of those to whom passports had been issued this year, but that there was a retired Commandant of that name. The real Commandant Tavenier was sought out and interviewed. It is true that he returned to France last March with the British when they made their raid on St. Nazaire. He was not only shot and severely wounded but afterwards thrown into the dock by a German corporal; so it is not at all surprising that anyone who witnessed the incident should have reported him as among the killed. But he was hauled out while still alive and put into hospital where he remained for two months. When discharged he was crippled for life; so, although a de Gaullist, instead of being interned he was allowed, on compassionate grounds, to go to his home.'

After pausing for a moment, Cochefert went on. 'So, you see, I was only amusing myself when I let you produce that poor hare about a cousin of the same name. It is useless for you to flounder like a fish in a net any more. Whatever game you have been playing it is finished now; and, no doubt, after a little persuasion you will tell us all about it.'

The game of bluff was so clearly up that Gregory only shrugged and asked, 'What do you intend to do with me?'

'To enter any country on a false passport is an offence. Under Hungarian law you are liable to a term of imprisonment, then to deportation. But for the duration of the war we have somewhat different arrangements. The Hungarian State Police have the right to detain you indefinitely but should they have no particular grounds for doing so they will, on an application for your extradition, hand you over to me. I shall then send you under escort to France, and my colleagues there will extract from you any information you may possess which would help us to defeat those who, by continuing to oppose Herr Hitler, are preventing the restoration of World Peace.'

Gregory knew that there was little to choose "between the uniformed thugs whose reign of terror kept the Petain government in power and the Gestapo. They had no more scruples than the Nazis about torturing the leaders of resistance groups, or agents of the Allies parachuted into France including women who had the ill luck to fall into their hands. He was terribly tempted to tell Cochefert just what he thought of the senile old Marshal and the gang of unscrupulous politicians with which he surrounded himself.

But this was no time to air his true feelings. Russia was being hammered to pieces. If she broke it might take twenty years of war before Europe could be liberated just as it had in Napoleon's day. And he, Gregory, held the threads of a move that would hamstring the German advance into the Caucasus, put Hitler in the devil's own mess, and bring his defeat very much nearer. The fact that the real Commandant Tavenier had had the good luck to survive the St. Nazaire raid now threatened to render any chance of that move abortive. For Gregory to pretend any longer that he was the Commandant was obviously futile; yet an issue of enormous consequence hung upon his keeping his freedom.

Even had he still had his gun and succeeded in shooting his way out that, as he realized more fully now, would have been no real solution; for as a fugitive, it would be next to impossible for him to complete his mission.

There was only one chance left to him. He still had a last card up his sleeve, and he must play it. It could prove an ace, but might well be regarded as just as phony as his passport was now known to be. If so, there could be no escape from being marched off to prison and turned over as a de Gaullist agent to the tender mercies of the Vichy secret police. In any case, he was most reluctant to produce this fraudulent trump because it would tie him up with the Gestapo and, even should Cochefert accept it at its face value, unless he could get out of Hungary quickly it might have most disastrous repercussions. But there it was. It was that or the absolute certainty of being marched off to prison there and then.

He took the plunge artistically. No one hearing him could have suspected for one moment that he regarded the men of Vichy as a bunch of treacherous self-seeking swine. Drawing himself erect he clicked his heels together, bowed sharply from the waist and said to Cochefert with a genial smile:

'My congratulations, Herr Hauptmann. I have done my utmost to preserve my incognito; but you have got me in a corner from which I see no escape. Since you supposed me to be an enemy agent, such work is most commendable, and I shall not fail to see that you get a good mark for it in the right quarter.'

Staring at him with a puzzled frown, Cochefert muttered, 'What the devil are you talking about?'

Gregory had been fingering the left lapel of his jacket. With the one word, 'This,' he drew from a secret pocket he had had made under it a small square of cardboard, and laid it on the dressing table. On a dark night in the previous December he had taken it from a man whom he had first shot twice in the stomach. He had then, for his own good reasons, hacked off with a chopper the man's right hand and thrown his body into Lake Geneva. It was the card issued by the Geheime Staatspolizei to Obersturmbannführer Fritz Einholtz, and signed Reinhard Heydrich.

For a minute that seemed an age Gregory's eyes were riveted on Cochefert's carrion crow features, striving to assess the movement of every tiny muscle and judge whether he would accept it or declare it, too, to be a fake.

As the Frenchman read the card his eyes widened. When he spoke his voice had lost its cocksure sneering tone. It was lower and held an unmistakably servile note:

'I had no idea… The last thing I would wish is to interfere with the operations of the Gestapo.'

Taking the tide of fortune at the flood, Gregory instantly reacted. As though set in motion by the sudden pressing of an electric switch, he stamped hard with his right foot on the wooden floor, jerked his body erect, threw back his head, shot out his right arm at a steep angle and cried:

'Heil Hitler!'

Taken by surprise, his two visitors hesitated only a second. The Hungarian got swiftly to his feet, then both in chorus responded with the Nazi salute.

'Now,' said Gregory, 'you, Herr Hauptmann, are clearly a man to be trusted; so I propose to take you into my confidence.' His whole manner had undergone a complete change. He spoke in a sharp official voice, and as a superior who was about to do an inferior a favour. Giving a quick glance towards the Lieutenant, he added in French, 'But what of our friend here. Can he be relied upon to keep his mouth shut?'

'Yes, Colonel,' Cochefert replied in the same language. 'He is an Arrow Cross Party member.'

'Good!' Gregory reverted to German, and turned to Puttony. 'Herr Leutnant, I shall also confide in you. All that I say must be regarded as of the highest secrecy. You will report to your superiors that you are fully satisfied about the bona fides of Commandant Tavenier, and not even hint at the work I have been sent to Budapest to do. Is that understood?'

The plump, lethargic looking Lieutenant, who had so far been a silent spectator of the scene, was now standing stiffly to attention and regarding Gregory with the veneration of an athletic minded schoolboy for a Rugby Blue. Tensing his muscles, he snapped out, Ja, Herr Oberst.'

'Very well, then.' Gregory took out his cigarette case and, without offering it to either of the others, lit a cigarette. He then perched himself on the arm of the easy chair that Cochefert had been occupying and went on:

'Reports have reached the Führer that certain elements in Hungary are not putting their full weight behind the war effort. This applies particularly to the magnates. Many are still leading lives of luxury and pleasure highly discreditable to them at a time when the whole German people are making the utmost sacrifices to achieve victory. Allies should share their burdens. In Germany thousands are being rendered homeless by the bombing of our cities and the people submit cheerfully to strict rationing, while here, in Hungary, it is as though a state of war hardly existed. That is very wrong. But I should make it clear that we do not blame the Hungarian people. It is only natural that they should continue to enjoy the good things of life as long as they are encouraged to do so by the example of the nobility. It is those who set this example who must be disciplined; and I have been instructed to list the worst offenders so that the Führer can insist that the Regent should take action against them.'

Gregory paused for a moment, then went on. 'But there is a still more serious matter. It is reported that some of the senior officers in the Hungarian Army are adopting a most reprehensible attitude. One cannot say they are defeatist. To do so would be absurd when it has been obvious to everybody from the beginning that the Führer will triumph over all his enemies. But they are putting obstacles in the way of sending further divisions to the Russian front. They are deliberately conserving Hungarian manpower at the expense of Germany. They do their best to arrange that the spoils Hungary will claim after our victory shall have been paid for in German blood. Worse, much worse, it is even said that some of them question the wisdom of Germany having gone to war with the Soviets, and speak slightingly of our glorious Führer.'

Cochefert and Puttony both shook their heads and made murmurs which could be taken as expressing amazement and horror at such blasphemy. Having given time for this little demonstration of loyalty, Gregory continued.

'Such men are traitors. They must be identified and routed out. I have come here for that purpose. Naturally they would not be quite such fools as to air their subversive views in front of a German; but it was thought that they might do so before a Frenchman, particularly if that Frenchman pretended to get drunk at some of their, parties and showed himself to be at heart a de Gaullist.

'A fortnight ago I was summoned by Herr Himmler to his Headquarters in the Albrecht Strasse and charged with this mission. The appropriate department then provided me with the identity of Commandant Tavenier. They thought it important that I should be able to talk as though I had been evacuated from Dunkirk and had imbibed the British point of view while in London. We have good contacts in the Free French Headquarters there, who had reported Tavenier as having been killed at St. Nazaire; so his identity seemed very suitable. In failing to check with Vichy, which would have disclosed the fact that Tavenier was still alive, the Albrecht Strasse slipped up badly. Had I been in an enemy country it could have cost me my life. I am fortunate to have been found out only by collaborators. No harm is done; but you will both appreciate my reluctance to admit that I was not Tavenier. If that got out it would completely ruin my mission.'

'Of course, Colonel. You may rely on us.' Cochefert gave a quick bow. 'It may even prove that we can be of some assistance to you.'

'Yes, sir,' Puttony added quickly, 'If you want a watch kept on certain people, please don't hesitate to let me know. Apart from being an officer in the Security Police I am also the commander of an Arrow Cross Youth Section; and my lads will do just as I tell them without asking questions.'

Standing up, Gregory replied, 'I thank you both. Should an occasion arise when I need the help of either of you, I will certainly avail myself of it. Now, let us go downstairs and, without ostentation, drink a baratsch to the health of our glorious Führer.'

Taking their agreement for granted, he strode towards the door. But just inside it he turned suddenly and said to Puttony, 'By the by, you still have my pistol.' With a murmured apology, the Lieutenant handed it over. Hiding a smile, Gregory pocketed it and, with the arrogance in keeping with his new role, marched on, leaving his 'collaborators' to tag along behind him.

Down in the courtyard, at a small table across which the leafy branches above now cast long shadows, he became genial and talkative, while maintaining the sort of condescending charm suited to a lordly representative of the Herren volk who wished to make himself pleasant.

Over the drinks he learnt that he had got nearer to the mark than he knew when inventing a mission for Himmler to give him. Puttony disclosed that the Hungarian Nazis were worried and angry because their country was not pulling its weight in the war. They had already made representations to the Führer about it, with the recommendation that he should summon Regent Horthy to Berchtesgaden and insist on his purging both his Cabinet and Government offices of their lukewarm elements.

Gregory guessed that the move was an attempt by the Arrow Cross leaders to secure a number of the key jobs for themselves, with the hope that this would later enable them to get control of the country. But he thought it unlikely that it would come off. Whatever the Regent might be bullied into promising, the magnates were too firmly entrenched and the Hungarian Nazis still too few and lacking in influence for it to come to anything in practice. Nevertheless he regarded the information as a windfall, since it would make an excellent lever for exerting pressure on the Committee appointed to discuss terms with the Allies.

As soon as his visitors had gone he took stock of his situation. Upstairs in his room he had had to skate on the thinnest possible ice, and there had been several nasty moments when he had thought that nothing could save him from going through it. Even Einholtz's Gestapo card had been a doubtful asset as, although it was genuine after all that had gone before, and the fact that Heydrich had now been dead for three months, he had half expected it to be declared a forgery, or Cochefert to accuse him of stealing it. That it had instantly been accepted at its face value had saved his bacon. But, all the same, he was far from happy at having had to produce it.

On the credit side, doing so had completely cleared him in Cochefert's eyes, and Puttony could now be counted on to stall off tactfully any unwelcome interest that the State Security Police might begin to take in his activities. In addition, with the subtlety and swiftness which made him such a brilliant secret agent, he had improvised a reason for his imaginary orders from Himmler which would give him better cover for his own mission. Not only was he now free of any necessity to implement his old cover by calling on several foie gras merchants, but he could hobnob with the Hungarian aristocracy as often as he pleased without it being thought strange that a truffle farmer should do so.

But on the debit side Cochefert and Puttony now both believed him to be a fairly senior official of the Gestapo and that might prove his complete undoing. It was a sure thing that the Gestapo would have Liaison Officers in Budapest with their own headquarters, and that the normal drill would have been for him to report there on his arrival. Should Puttony, after all, prove indiscreet and a mention of 'Commandant Tavenier's' mission reach the ears of one of those Liaison Officers, the fat would be in the fire with a vengeance. The thought of such a possibility quite spoilt Gregory's dinner.

He was uncomfortably aware that his only really safe course was to leave Budapest next morning but, now that his mission showed such promise of developing from a tentative reconnaissance into a concrete hope of bringing Hungary over to the Allies in the comparatively near future, he felt that he could not possibly throw his hand in prematurely. He knew that opportunity did not often knock twice on the same door, and that some hazard of war might soon change the outlook of the Hungarian nobles. He had them well warmed up now, so must remain in Budapest until they had completed their 'Heads of Agreement' for him to take back to London. Then the Foreign Office would have the chance to strike while the iron was hot.

He endeavoured to comfort himself with the thought that Puttony must have had security training; so it was really very long odds against his gossiping. Anyhow, it was a risk that must be taken, and the only way to minimize it was to urge the Committee to complete their deliberations as swiftly as possible.

The Committee met the following afternoon in a small private room at the Nobles Club. Count Zsigmond Szegenyhaz, a tall thin man with the delicate features of a dilettante intellectual, was the second oldest member of it. He was also the head of a department in the Hungarian Foreign Office; so obviously the best choice for Chairman, and he was duly elected. After the preliminary of drafting their own 'Terms of Reference' had been completed, Gregory asked leave to speak and addressed the Committee at some length on the question of Security.

He pointed out that while the work the Committee was engaged upon' was inspired by the highest patriotism it could be classed as treason, and that if its activities came to the ears of pro Germans in the State Security Police the Government would be compelled to take notice of it. Should that happen, however anxious the Regent might be to protect friends and relations of his who were involved, Hitler would be certain to demand that drastic steps should be taken against them. Therefore, if for no other reason than to save the Regent from grave embarrassment, it was only right that they should take all possible precautions to keep their proceedings secret.

The sound sense of this was admitted and as a move in the right direction it was agreed that, instead of future meetings being held at the Club, they should take place at the home of each member in turn.

Gregory then went on to give an account of his narrow escape from arrest the preceding evening, and ended by repeating Lieutenant Puttony's statement to the effect that the leaders of the Arrow Cross Party had recently made representations to Hitler that he should summon the Regent to Berchtesgaden and insist that Hungarian affairs should be brought more into line with Nazi interests.

Count Zsigmond nodded. 'What he said is true. But the Regent has consistently refused to kowtow to Hitler, and I am glad to say that he has refused to go to Berchtesgaden. However, the Germans' case for Hungary's bearing a greater share of the war burden could not be ignored; so it has been agreed that Ribbentrop should come here for discussions. He is due to arrive early next week.'

'Do you know the form his demands will take?' enquired the Bishop.

'Only in general. It is certain that he will ask for further reinforcements for the Russian front, and for much greater supplies of food than we are sending to Germany at present. He will probably also ask us to receive considerable numbers of refugees from the bombed cities. They would be useless mouths, of course: old people and young children who cannot be employed in the German factories.'

'That,' said the Bishop, 'is a burden we should accept on humanitarian grounds. What else?'

'He may ask us to issue another loan, or even suggest a capital levy to be devoted to a common war chest.'

A grin spread over the handsome face of the one-armed Colonel Janos Orczy. 'We can rely on the Baroness to get us out of that one.'

Gregory gave him an enquiring look, but it was Count Laszlo who satisfied his curiosity. 'Ribbentrop's mistress, the Baroness Tuzolto. She is a Hungarian, and a very beautiful one. Of course she is a Nazi, but she naturally protects the interests of her country as far as she can. On more than one occasion already she has acted as the secret intermediary between him and our magnates. He is completely venal and if the bribe is big enough will agree to anything provided that he can see his course clear to explain it away to his master. No doubt we'll have to find more men and food, and perhaps float a new loan.

But she always travels with him and, if there is any suggestion of a levy affecting the great estates, she will buy him off for us.'

They then began to discuss the Heads of Agreement, but their views were so divergent that although they talked for another hour and a half they did not get very far. When it came to fixing their next meeting, it transpired that all of them except Colonel Orczy had arranged to spend the weekend in the country; so Monday was the earliest day they would all be available. Gregory pleaded the urgency of getting matters settled, but in vain. The Bishop said that he could not neglect his spiritual duties in his diocese, old General Baron Alacy had his annual tenants' party on his estate, and the others said it would be pointless to continue the discussions without them.

The casual postponement of deliberations on which so much hung, and the additional danger to himself of remaining in Budapest even two days longer than was strictly necessary, filled Gregory with annoyance and frustration and he made no great effort to conceal his feelings. Seeing his long face, Janos Orczy slapped him on the shoulder and cried cheerfully:

'Don't look so glum, my friend. Even should that Police Lieutenant speak of you to the Germans, we will find some way to get you safely out of the country. And there are worse places than Budapest for a little relaxation. Come out to dinner with me tonight and we will forget this wretched war for a while.' Then Count Laszlo added, 'I am returning to Nagykata for Saturday and Sunday nights. Why not come with me? Mihaly Zapolya would, I know, be delighted to see you. I'll call for you at your hotel tomorrow morning at eleven o'clock.'

Gregory gratefully accepted both invitations, and a few hours later the young Colonel took him to a restaurant in a back street of Buda, It had low vaulted ceilings, all the furniture was bright red painted with Hungarian flowers, and the waitresses were dressed in gaily embroidered national costume.

For their main course they had goose. The whole bird was cut into joints and served on a low revolving wooden dish placed in the centre of the table, so that by swivelling it round they could help themselves to any joint that took their fancy. A feature of the place was its famous Tzigane band which played alternately gay and soulful music. The gypsies too wore brilliant costumes embellished with bunches of many coloured ribbons. A bald old man with a face like a wrinkled walnut performed prodigies on the Tzimberlum, and the leader, walking among the tables, drew marvellous melodies from his fiddle. Later in the evening their music grew wild and passionate, and gypsy girls with flashing eyes, their dark hair streaming out behind them, whirled madly in ancient dances.

The sight and sound of so much revelry made Gregory feel that the war and its cares were more remote than ever, and when, after a session in a nightclub that did not end until five in the morning, he got back to his hotel, he was in fuller agreement than ever with his charming host that there were worse places than Budapest for a little relaxation.

Six hours later Count Laszlo called for him as arranged and he spent a pleasant but uneventful weekend at Nagykata. On the Monday they received bad news which plunged the household into gloom. The Regent's eldest son, Stephen Horthy, had been killed in an aircraft disaster. As he had been nominated heir apparent this was a sad blew; for it once more put Hungary's future in the melting pot, and raised the not altogether welcome possibility of an Italian Prince being invited to mount the throne.

In the afternoon Gregory and Count Laszlo returned to the capital to find black streamers hanging from the windows of most of the houses and a general air of depression; but they did not feel called upon to postpone the next meeting of the Committee and drove straight to an apartment owned by the Count in which it was to be held.

This was situated in a suburb of Buda, and with a twinkle in his merry dark eyes the hunchback took Gregory from a sitting room that had a dining alcove through into a bedroom almost entirely filled by an enormous low bed. He then opened a wardrobe and displayed to him a collection of some twenty women's dressing gowns of varying colours and rich materials.

On Gregory's raising an enquiring eyebrow, the Count laughed and said: 'You did not think I lived here, did you? Nearly everybody who is anybody in Budapest has a little place like this in which to receive his girlfriends discreetly. You might perhaps suppose that my unfortunate deformity makes success in that direction difficult for me, but I can assure you it is quite the contrary. Women are my passion and their greatest weakness is their curiosity. Few of them can resist the temptation to find out if I am as good a lover as other men, and God has kindly compensated me by giving me quite unusual virility. There is hardly a Pretty Countess in Budapest who has not been tumbled on that bed, and then come back to be tumbled again.'

Recalling what Levianski had said about the morals of the Hungarian aristocracy, Gregory thought it unlikely that the Count was boasting. Moreover he was not altogether without evidence of their light-hearted ways himself. While at Nagykata the charming bronze haired Countess Elizabeth had made it unmistakably plain that she would have liked to enter on an affaire with him, and had even gone to the lengths late one night of coming along to his bedroom with a book which she said she thought he might like to read.

The meeting went quite well until it came to the question of the territories lost by Hungary under the Treaty of Trianon being retained or restored to her. At first the Committee were set on demanding every square inch of land that had ever been Hungarian soil; but Gregory said they must be reasonable, as the Allies could not be expected to penalize all Hungary's neighbours on her account. Then, each member stood out for the permanent absorption of lands in which his own family had once owned estates.

After a long wrangle to which Gregory listened in silence, he put it to them that he thought they would be well advised to confine their terms to the retention of Transylvania and the granting of a port on the Adriatic, as those were reasonable requests, whereas it was unlikely that the Allied Governments would consent to any alteration of the frontiers of pre1939 Czechoslovakia.

On the question of Austria, the old General proved the nigger in the wood pile as up till 1919 an uncle of his had owned a local railway in a strip of country that had been given to the Austrians, and its loss had considerably reduced the fortune of that side of his family. At their meetings he had so far done little but mumble through his walrus moustache, but on this matter he became angrily loquacious and the meeting broke up without having got any further.

Next day they met again at the Bishop's quarters, which were a sumptuous private suite looking on to a charming cloister garden in a monastery situated in the oldest part of Pest. Gregory's opinion of the prelate as a man of God was not a high one. He was only in his early thirties but very fat and very lazy. At Nagykata Mass had been celebrated every morning by

Count Zapolya's private chaplain in the ornate chapel of the house. The servants all attended as part of their daily routine and a good sprinkling of the family; but, according to the Countess Elizabeth, the Bishop never did so. When telling Gregory this, she had added with a smile that he said that he preferred to perform his devotions in the private oratory adjacent to his bedroom, but she was sure that was only an excuse for him to lie abed.

Nevertheless he was an intelligent man and a fluent talker; and he succeeded in arguing the General round about Austria. But when they went on to discuss Czechoslovakia all five of them united to declare that not only would they retain Ruthenia but they must have back the far larger Slovakia.

The Czechs were to the Hungarians as a red rag to a bull; and Gregory knew enough of European history to be aware of the reason. For many centuries the two great Kingdoms of Hungary and Bohemia had been deadly rivals, until Austria absorbed them both. Bohemia had fared worst as, after a crushing defeat in the seventeenth century, nearly the whole of her nobility had been barbarously executed and every vestige of independent power taken from her. Hungary, on the other hand, had remained a Kingdom, and her magnates had been strong enough to exact terms from the Austrians by which they preserved their ancient rights and their own Diet and refused to acknowledge the Emperor except by the title of King of Hungary. Yet the destruction of the Czech nobility had resulted in the rise of a powerful middle class which had developed trade and industry in a way that left Hungary far behind. In consequence, to the ancient hatred of the Hungarians for their neighbours in the north had been added a sour jealousy, coupled with contempt for them as a nation of bourgeois. To have had to surrender Slovakia and Ruthenia to them in 1920 had therefore been the bitterest pill of all and having got these back in 1940 they were determined to keep them.

When it became clear that the Committee would not budge without many hours of further persuasion, the exasperated Gregory suggested that this one question should be left open for the time being, so that he need no longer delay his departure. It then transpired that Colonel Orczy had sent a message to General Lakatos, one of the principal commanders of the Hungarian forces on the Russian front, asking him to return to Budapest for consultation on an urgent matter. The General was known to be violently anti Nazi, so was entirely to be trusted, and they wanted his professional opinion upon the number of Anglo-American divisions it would be necessary to land on the Continent in order to hold the German armour in the West. But the General was not arriving until Friday and Gregory had to agree with the Committee that his report would be of little practical value if he left before he could include in it their stipulations of this highly important point; so it was now obvious that he would not be able to get away until the weekend.

Had he been left to himself except for these meetings he would have been driven nearly mad by frustration, but the members of the Committee made up for their dilatoriness in business by lavish hospitality; for they were all intensely proud of their beautiful city and delighted to do the honours of it.

He had, of course, known that Buda had once been the most important bastion of the Roman world against the savage hordes that inhabited the lands north of the Danube; but he had not realized, until Count Szegenyhaz told him, that the Romans had brought civilization to Hungary long before they had to Britain, and five hundred years before the Germans were slowly emerging from a state of barbarism. The Count, who was a learned antiquarian, had a fine collection of ancient, pottery and weapons and, as Gregory showed much interest in them, took him on a fascinating tour of the National Museum. They also visited the Roman baths at Aquincum, and the thermal establishment at which for close on two thousand years countless sufferers had received relief by being packed in radioactive mud.

The Bishop took him to the Matthias Church to see the sacred relics and to the Bergberg where he had the Coronation regalia in the treasury specially brought out for Gregory to examine. Colonel Janes motored him up to the Fortress of Ofen and the heights of the Bocksberg, then took him to dine with the Officers of the Guard at the Royal Palace. The old General invited him to lunch at the Houses of Parliament and afterwards to witness a session in the Hall of the Magnates, as the Upper Chamber was called.

On Wednesday 27th the Committee did not meet, as on that day the funeral of Stephen Horthy took place. He had been in his middle forties and neither brilliant nor particularly popular, but as the Regent's heir he was given a State funeral.

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Although the soldiers lining the streets were in their drab wartime uniforms the magnates gave the procession a touch of semi oriental splendour, and Ribbentrop and Count Ciano walked side by side at the head of the group of notables representing Axis and neutral countries. Out of sympathy for the mother and father every shop in Budapest was closed and all activities for either pleasure or profit suspended; but on the following day the black streamers had disappeared from the windows and the city returned to normal.

That night Count Laszlo gave Gregory dinner and afterwards they went to the Piccadilly, which had the most glamorous cabaret of the luxury nightclubs on the Margaretenlnsel. They had been there for about an hour, drinking champagne and watching the lively singing and dancing of a bevy of near naked beauties, when there was a sudden hush and many heads were turned towards one of the entrances.

A party of six people was being obsequiously bowed by the maitre d'hotel to a reserved table on the edge of the dance floor. The leading couple v/ere a tall man with a high bald forehead and a strikingly beautiful dark-haired girl.

'There's Ribbentrop,' remarked Count Laszio, 'and his pretty Baroness.'

Gregory turned to look, then caught his breath in surprise and consternation. The girl was his old flame Sabine.

Next moment she glanced in his direction. Their eyes met. Her arched eyebrows went up and her scarlet lips opened a trifle. He knew then that she had recognized him. It was too late to slip away. The danger he had foreseen from an unexpected meeting, when he had thought about her after his bathe on his first afternoon in Budapest, re-entered his mind like the shrilling of an alarm bell.

Playing With Fire

Chapter 9

Gregory had hoped that if he did run into Sabine she would be alone and that, by hinting at the reason for his being in Budapest, he might ensure her sympathetic silence. Anyway he had felt confident that he would be able to overcome any feeling she might have that it was her duty to hand him over to the police.

Even had she had friends with her of her own nationality, and from surprise at seeing him had greeted him with an exclamation in English, dangerous as such a situation would have been he might, with luck, have put up a bluff of some kind which would have stalled off any immediate action.

But to come across her in the company of a Nazi, let alone Hitler's Foreign Minister, was a thing that he had never remotely contemplated. Still worse, from what he had heard she made no concealment of the fact that she was Ribbentrop's mistress, and a convinced Nazi herself.

As they stared at one another from fifteen paces' distance he, kept his face completely immobile. For her English lover to turn up in Budapest during the war was so unlikely that, if he showed no signs of recognition, he thought there was just a chance she might decide that she had been misled by a resemblance. But instead of looking away, while Ribbentrop was motioning the rest of his party to the places at the table where he wished them to sit she touched the maitre d'hotel on the arm and pointed at Gregory.

His heart missed a beat. For a second he thought she was telling the man to have him watched, so that he did not slip away, while sending for the police. But the maitre d'hotel only shook his head, showing that she had simply asked if he knew who Gregory was.

Count Laszlo turned to him with a smile. 'The Baroness seems to be interested in you.'

'Unfortunately, yes,' Gregory replied in a low voice. 'It is several years since I've seen her; so her present name conveyed nothing to me. But she turns out to be an old friend of mine; and as she is now a friend of Nazi No. 4, that may have extremely unpleasant results for me before I am much older.'

The laughter died in the hunchback's merry brown eyes. 'You mean she knows you to be an Englishman?'

'That's it. And the moment she looked in this direction she recognized me. By keeping a poker face I hope I've sown doubt in her mind; but if she tells her new boyfriend her suspicions my goose will be properly cooked. For me to make a hurried exit might precipitate catastrophe; but I want to get out of here as soon as I can without appearing to be making a bolt for it. Would you send for the bill, so that the waiter won't come running after us if we get up to go in about fifteen minutes.'

Ribbentrop's table was now empty. After a thickset man in the uniform of the Arrow Cross Party, who was apparently playing host, bad ordered wine, all three couples moved out on to the dance floor. But each time the dancing brought Sabine in view of Gregory her wide dark eyes became riveted, over Ribbentrop's shoulder, on him. He gave the impression that he was unconscious of her glance, keeping his own in another direction; but he was watching her out of the corner of his eye, and wondering with acute anxiety at what precise moment she might decide to tell her partner that she thought she had recognized a man who must be a British spy.

Under his breath Gregory murmured to Count Laszlo, 'For, God's sake tell me some funny stories to make me laugh. The only hope I have of foxing this woman is to sit on here for a bit appearing unconcerned and natural.' Then he began quite openly to ogle a pretty blonde who was sitting at a nearby table. She looked a little surprised by these sudden attentions, but having taken stock of Gregory's lean good looks she responded, at intervals when her companion was not looking at her, with sly half smiles.

Getting up, Gregory went over to her table, made a formal bow to the man who was with her, and asked if he might ask her for a dance. Her companion looked far from pleased but, taken by surprise and seeing the smile with which she greeted the invitation, he mumbled his consent. Gregory led the blonde on to the floor, grasped her firmly and began to tell her how, as a visitor to Budapest, he found the city enchanting and her the loveliest thing in it. Her name was Terezia and she was a model in a smart dress shop. He secured her address and telephone number, and said he would ring her up next day; a promise that he had no intention of keeping. Then he took her back to her table and returned to his own hoping that Sabine, who must have observed the incident, would conclude from it that no spy who had been detected would have the nerve to remain within call acting the role of a playboy.

Ribbentrop's party had now resorted themselves. He was dancing with a statuesque redheaded woman and Sabine, who had evidently declined further dancing for the moment, was back at the table with the Arrow Cross man. As Gregory gave her an anxious sidelong glance, he saw that her dark head was bent over the table. Count Laszlo had paid the bill, and ogling the blonde then dancing with her had occupied a good quarter of a hour; so he murmured to the Count, 'I think we might go now.'

As they stood up, he saw that Sabine was bending over the table because she was writing a note. At that moment she lifted her head, saw that he was about to leave, and made a gesture with her hand that he should stay where he was. He responded with a look of blank surprise appropriate to receiving a signal from a complete stranger; but she beckoned up a waiter, folded her note and pointing out Gregory sent the man over with it.

It was impossible for him to ignore the approaching waiter. Another few moments and he might have been out of the place, but now he had been caught. Cursing under his breath, he sat down, then took the note from the plate the waiter held out to him. Unfolding it he read the single line in her well remembered spidery writing:

You can't fool me. What are you doing in Budapest?

So much for his bluff that he was not who she thought him. It was clearly futile to attempt to maintain it any longer. And there was now no escape from giving her some explanation. All he could hope to do was temporarily to stall her off from telling her friends that he was English by inducing her to play up to one of his cover stories until they could talk together alone.

For him to pretend to be Fritz Einholtz with Ribbentrop in the offing would be a suicidal risk, as the Foreign Minister might have known the Gestapo Colonel. On the other hand, if he posed as Tavenier there was just a chance that the Arrow Cross man might be Puttony's chief, and that the Lieutenant had confided to him that Tavenier was really only a cover name for Obersturmbannführer Einholtz.

116

Ribbentrop was just returning to the table, so would see Sabine receive the reply to her note. It was certain that he would question her about it, and if she said Gregory was a Frenchman of her acquaintance the Arrow Cross man might try to show how well-informed he was by telling her that she was mistaken and revealing what he believed to be the truth. For a moment Gregory contemplated fabricating an entirely new identity for himself. But that would not do either, as scores of people in Budapest now knew him as Commandant Tavenier and it was quite possible that one of the other women at the table had been at some party he had attended and heard him addressed by that name.

His mind turning over like a dynamo, he decided that the lesser risk was to continue to pose as Tavenier; so he picked up a menu and wrote on the back of it in French:

My dear Baroness,

Only the fact that you are in such illustrious company prevented me from reclaiming your acquaintance. I still treasure the memory of Paris when you were staying there as the guest of my aunt in 1936. Permit me, I beg, to call upon you tomorrow morning, so that I may tell you of my adventures after my recall to the army and how, after being evacuated' from Dunkirk, I succeeded in getting back to France. I rejoice to see that these few years have made you more ravishingly beautiful than ever.

With my most distinguished compliments,

Etienne Tavenier.

Folding the menu over, he gave it to the hovering waiter to take to her. Then he said in a low voice to Count Laszlo, 'I only hope to God that will do the trick. If her memories of our affaire are as delightful as mine, it should unless that Arrow Cross chap knows that the real Tavenier is still living in France.'

The Count smiled. 'You are most fortunate to have had an affaire with her. Not only is she very beautiful, but she is one of the most intelligent and amusing women I have ever counted among my friends.5

'You know her well, then?'

'Oh yes. I have known her since shortly after she left her Convent. In fact, I might even claim to have contributed a little to her education; although that came a year or two later when she had become bored with the limited conversation of handsome young officers.'

Into Gregory's mind there flashed a picture of the enormous bed at Count Laszlo's discreet apartment in the suburbs. But his gaze was riveted on Sabine, She had read the note and was talking to Ribbentrop; then she spoke to the Arrow Cross man. Gregory was on tenterhooks for what seemed an age while he watched them conferring together, but actually it was only two minutes before she beckoned to the waiter again and sent him over with a message. Hurrying between the tables he bowed and delivered it:

'Gentlemen, the Herr Reichsaussenminister presents his compliments and asks that you will join his party.'

Count Laszlo half covered his mouth with a hand that held a cigarette, and murmured quickly behind it in French, 'This is Hungary, not Germany; so you do not have to go. Walk out if you like. I will express your regrets and tell them you had to leave because you have a date with a lady.'

'No,' Gregory replied in the same language, as he stood up. 'If she has given me away they'd have the police after me in ten minutes. Better to face the music and hope things will turn out all right. If not, please don't involve yourself. Say you hardly know me that we met in the bar and as we were both alone decided to share a table.'

A few moments later they were bowing in turn over Sabine's hand. To Gregory's great relief she greeted him in French. Then she introduced them to the others at her table, explaining that the Arrow Cross man was their host. He proved to be Major Szalasi, the leader of the Hungarian Nazi Party, and the red-haired woman was his wife. The third man, a tall blond fellow, was Ribbentrop's aide-de-camp, Captain Von Trott, and his companion, a girl whose looks were a little marred by a mouth as wide as a letter box, was a Fraulein Weiss.

The bull necked Szalasi had shown no dangerous reaction when Sabine, having asked Gregory's present rank, had presented him as Commandant Tavenier; so, this second hurdle being behind him, he took one of the extra chairs that had been brought up, accepted the glass of champagne Szalasi poured for him, and entered with zest into his part.

For the first minute or two Sabine regarded him with a coolly detached expression, but with truly Gallic exuberance he launched into an invented account of how he had taken her boating on the lake at Vincennes and fallen in, and she had nearly brained him with an oar while trying to help him out, upon which her dark eyes began to brim with merriment. Mischievously she enquired after his mythical aunt and was hard put to it to maintain a suitable expression of sorrow when he told her in a tragic voice that in the first year of the war the poor lady had had the tip of her nose bitten off by her pet poodle, and that as a result she had died of sepsis.

For the benefit of the others he changed from French to heavily accented German; as he described his agony of indecision as to whether it was his duty to shoot the poodle as the murderer of his aunt. Then, breaking off abruptly, he declared that this was no place in which to talk of death, and soon he and Sabine were outbidding one another in absurd, entirely fictitious, stories beginning, 'Do you remember,' and everyone at the table was laughing with them.

It was Ribbentrop who turned the conversation to more serious matters by saying, 'I understand, Herr Major, that you were evacuated from Dunkirk and spent some time in England. It would be interesting to have an eye witness's account of that operation as the enemy saw it, and to have your impressions of London under war conditions.'

About Dunkirk Gregory had no need to call on his powers of invention, as for the best part of twenty-four hours he had sat on the beach watching the troops taken off; although, his own mission being uncompleted, instead of going home with them he had then got into an abandoned tank and driven off in the direction of Paris.

About London he exaggerated both the bad and the good with the intent of depressing his audience. He described the results of the bombing as frightful beyond belief, which delighted the Germans; but then went on to say how, all the unreliable elements having fled from the capital, those who remained had displayed the pigheadedness for which those accursed islanders were notorious. They had suddenly begun talking to their neighbours in buses and trains and sung a silly song about rolling out a barrel and’ pardon, but you will understand I speak of the filthy British’ gone about greeting one another with laughing cries of 'To hell with Hitler!'

Having despatched this barbed arrow, he swiftly returned to his own adventures, telling how he had skilfully managed to desert from a British Commando at St. Nazaire and that as, alas, France had not yet actively entered the war against the perfidious English he had come to Budapest in the hope of selling truffles.

He then paused to await with some curiosity their reaction to this admission of his pseudo commercial activities. Ribbentrop had been widely sneered at by the world Press because in pre Nazi days he had earned his living as a champagne salesman. Why, Gregory had never been able to understand, for it seemed to him that few trades could be more civilized and pleasant than selling wines; and, although he had no right to the 'von' he claimed, as only his mother's family had been noble, he came of respectable people. Moreover, he had been no ordinary commercial traveller, as he had married Anneliese Henkel, the heiress of the great German Sparkling Wine House. But nobody made any comment on Gregory's commercial activities, and a moment later the band started up a new number.

Standing up, Sabine smiled at Ribbentrop, then said to Gregory, 'Come and show me if you still dance as well as you used to when we were in Paris.'

'With the utmost pleasure,' he replied gaily, and led her out, on to the floor. But as they moved smoothly off among the throng of dancers, her manner changed and she asked abruptly:

'Now! What are you really up to here?'

'Surely you can guess,' he replied lightly. 'I am assessing the weight of bombs it will take to blow Budapest off the map; and how many Hungarian girls we can hope to save from the ruins to supply the brothels we maintain for the coloured troops of the Empire.'

'The Allied bombers will never get as far as Budapest, and…"

'I wouldn't be too certain of that,' he cut in with sudden seriousness.

Her voice was low and soft but held no note of friendliness as she replied, 'That, as I was about to add, is beside the point. I want a sensible answer to my question.'

'Let's say then that, my poor old bones now being racked with arthritis, I have come to do the cure at your famous mud baths.'

'Gregory!' She gave the back of his hand a sharp dig with her nails. 'Stop fooling! You are as fit and lithe as ever you were. And anyway…'

'Softly, my sweet, softly,' he chided her. 'Please remember that my name is now Etienne.'

'You will have exchanged your name for a number in a cell if you exasperate me much further. And I am not your sweet!'

Ignoring the threat, he smiled down at her. 'Alas, no. I fear that your taste has deteriorated since the wonderful time we had together in Paris, of course. About that you played up marvellously, and I am most grateful to you.'

Without returning his smile, she replied. 'Yes, it was all very amusing; but I am no longer in the mood for comedy. For the sake of old times I refrained from denouncing you, and I am now giving you an opportunity to explain yourself. Take it, or I shall get Major Szalasi to send for a policeman.'

He gave her a look of shocked surprise. 'Surely you wouldn’t do that?'

'Why not? Our countries are at war and I run into you here posing as a Frenchman. It is obvious that you are a enemy secret agent.'

'Then why not snatch up a champagne bottle from the next table we pass and bash my head in with it?'

A slight shudder ran through her slender body, and she exclaimed, 'What a horrible idea!'

T suppose it is rather particularly when you remember that you used to enjoy running those slim fingers of yours through my hair. Yet the effect of a real good crack from a bottle would be precisely the same as if my head were smashed in by the bullets from a firing party; and that would probably be my fate if you gave me away. So you see you would simply be getting somebody, else to do your dirty work.'

Her skin was flawless, with the matt texture of magnolia petals, but a worried frown creased her broad low forehead, and a warmer note crept into her voice as she said, 'God knows, I would hate to bring about your death. But don't you see that meeting you like this has placed me in an impossible position?'

By first making light of his own situation then just touching on the grimmer side of it, Gregory had played his cards skilfully. Few women can resist the appeal of a man who is in great danger yet instead of asking help talks gay nonsense about it: and he judged from Sabine's softened expression that he now had her patriotic scruples on the run. Stooping his head a little he murmured in her ear:

'I would not say impossible, but exciting. How could it be anything else when you recall the last time we danced together here. I find it incredibly thrilling that fate should have brought its together again like this. You have no idea how often I have thought of you.'

'Oh come!' she protested. 'Please don't pretend that you are still in love with me.'

'I wasn't an hour ago. Now I'm not so certain. Anyhow, I very soon can be.'

'You are saying that because you hope to persuade me to let you get away with whatever you are up to.'

'I'm not. You must know that you are lovely enough to turn any man's head especially one who has such memories of you as I have.'

She gave a quick sigh. 'Yes; it was wonderful while it lasted.'

'It ended all too soon; only because I had to go back to England and it was impossible for you to go with me.'

'I… I know,' her voice faltered a little.

As they swayed to the music he drew her closer. 'Being with you here again like this makes it seem as if the years between have been no more than a one night’s dream.'

'But they haven't been a dream!' Her words came faster now and she looked up into his face with troubled eyes. 'It is common knowledge that I'm Ribb's mistress, and even if I were not we couldn't pretend they have. Our countries are at war, and you have as good as admitted that you are here as a spy. How can you expect me to ignore that and continue to lie to people about your being a Frenchman I met in Paris?'

'Listen, Sabine. This is the truth. I am not a spy; but I am here on a secret mission.'

'Well, that's much the same thing, isn't it?'

'Not necessarily; and not in this case. If I can succeed in my mission I honestly believe that it will be a good thing for Hungary.'

'In that case there is nothing to stop your telling me about it.'

'Nothing except time. This dance must be nearly over and, anyhow, to go properly into the matter I'd need an hour at least. What are you doing tomorrow?'

'I don't really know. Ribb will be up at the Palace most of the day, having conferences with Admiral Horthy; and probably in the evening too. I expect I shall do some shopping, lunch with friends and bathe in the afternoon. But this has nothing to do with it. This thing has got to be settled tonight,'

'Why? Are you afraid I'll run away?'

'You might. Perhaps it would be the best solution if you did. That is, if I could be certain that you had left the country.'

He smiled down at her again and stuck his chin out. 'Well, I'm not going to. There is too much at stake. So if you are really set on getting me oft your conscience tonight, there's only one way you can do it. You'll have to call in the police.

'Oh, Gregory, you are a brute! You haven't changed a bit. You're just as dictatorial as ever.'

'You haven't changed, either. But I'm not a brute. You know jolly well that I am the easiest, softest creature in the world, and that you never had the least difficulty in twisting me round your little finger. Look, why not cut out your shopping and all that tomorrow and spend the day with me?'

She closed her eyes and shook her head. 'No, no. Get thee behind me, Satan.'

'Why should I when it's such a joy to look at your race, Angel?'

Her eyes remained closed, their long dark lashes making fans upon her cheeks; but her lips broke into a smile, as she murmured, 'We're being absolutely crazy.'

'What is there crazy about trying to snatch a little happiness from life. If we can't put the clock back altogether we could for a dozen hours tomorrow.'

'Oh, you're incorrigible!'

'No; just human. I'll tell you about this mission of mine; then we'll forget the damn war and enjoy ourselves.'

Suddenly she opened her eyes. They were bright as stars and brimming with laughter. 'All right,' she nodded, 'you win. Where shall we meet?'

At that moment the band stopped. Under cover of the clapping he said, as he took his arm from about her, 'Let's start the day just as we used to, with a swim at the Gellert. I'll meet you there at eleven o'clock.'

She pressed his hand before letting it go, and whispered, 'That would be lovely, darling. Now we must think up some more funny stories about our time in Paris to keep Ribb in a good temper. Be careful how you look at me, though, because sometimes he gets jealous.'

Gregory was much too old a bird not to heed her warning; so he did not ask her to dance again, although he danced with Madame Szalasi and twice with Fraulein Weiss. Betweenwhiles he played the part of a cultured Frenchman who is something of a buffoon, and amused the party with cynical stories illustrating the hypocrisy and stupidity of the English. He found Ribbentrop somewhat conceited and very self-opinionated but, apart from that, congenial company.

It was the Nazi Foreign Minister's easy affability that had first opened to him the' road to fame. On Anneliese's money they had lived in a comfortable villa in the rich Berlin suburb of Dahiam, and made themselves a popular host and hostess. To their parties had come Von Papen, Himmler and then Hitler. The latter found Ribbentrop useful to him in giving colloquial translations of leading articles in the British and French Press and then the villa at Dahiam made "an excellent rendezvous for holding secret meetings. In it, during January 1933, had been hatched the conspiracy which led to the aged Hindenburg's giving his agreement to a Von Papen Hitler coalition government, and from then on the genial host of the conspirators had never looked back. Many of his fellow party chiefs resented his arrogance and doubted his abilities, but the ex-housepainter, Hitler, was so abysmally ignorant of. all foreign affairs that he could never be persuaded that Ribbentrop was not a second Bismarck.

Even conceding that to be an absurd exaggeration, by comparison Gregory found the Hungarian Nazi a dull dog, the A.D.C. only a moderately intelligent yes-man, and the two women of very limited mentality; but that was a good, rather than a bad, thing as it left him free to concentrate on the two principal members of the party.

Soon after two o'clock it broke up. Ribbentrop and Szalasi both had large cars waiting for them, and from the point of the island their ways lay in opposite directions across the two halves of the bridge which joined it to the opposite banks. As the Germans and Sabine were staying in Buda they offered Count Laszlo a lift, and the Szalasis, who lived in Pest, said they would drop Gregory at the Vadaszkürt. But before they parted he managed to get a brief word with the Count.

'It was a near thing,' he confided, 'but I'll only have myself

to blame now if she gives me away. I'm spending all tomorrow with her; so please let the others know why I shall not be able to turn up at our meeting. I can't make any further contribution, anyhow, so I'd be only a listener. But do press them to get something definite from General Lakatos. It is more urgent than ever now that I should get away from Budapest. I want to leave on Saturday.'

Count Laszlo had proved himself the most reasonable and helpful member of the Committee, and he promised to do his best; so Gregory took such comfort from that as he could, but he knew that during the next day or two he would be faced with a most tricky piece of tightrope walking.

In spite of his light-hearted fooling with Sabine during the first part of their dance together, he had soon realized that the only way to prevent her from turning him over to the police was to invoke her happy memories of their love affaire. That had not proved difficult; but, with her slender body pressed to his and her lovely face so close, his own memories had flooded back to him with most unsettling clarity.

He wondered now just how much that had influenced him in suggesting that they should spend the whole day together when an hour's talk over a drink before lunch would probably have been sufficient to satisfy her curiosity and secure her silence but he decided that, although it had been an added incentive, he would have done the same with any woman in similar circumstances solely because she was Ribbentrop's mistress. It was certain that a conceited man like the Reich’s Minister talked freely with his intimates, so Sabine must be privy to many Nazi secrets. She might prove as close as an oyster but such a chance to pick up. red-hot inside information about the enemy was one nothing would have induced him to miss, and to make the utmost of that chance necessitated his getting her to himself for as long as he could.

The disturbing fact was that when he had proposed this long session he had had in mind no more than a day spent together as old friends, whereas she seemed to have read into it more than that. Recalling the words he had used to win her over, he could not blame her; but just before they left the floor she had called him 'darling,' and she had said it in a tone which implied her expectation that, if only for a few hours, when next they met they would resume their old relationship.

Such a prospect had no strings to it provided that it was only for a few hours. But later, in conversation at the table, it had emerged that, while Ribbentrop was returning to Berlin on Saturday afternoon, Sabine was staying on in Budapest to attend the wedding of an old friend the following Tuesday before driving back to Berlin in her own car. That meant that from Saturday evening she would be her own mistress; and Gregory foresaw that if he had not left Budapest by then, a situation was likely to develop which would put him in a pretty fix.

He did not want to be unfaithful to Erika, but he knew his Sabine; and one of her attractions for him had been the frank joy she took in giving rein to her passions. He knew, too, the truth of the old saying that 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.' After a long day spent together, and with Ribbentrop out of the way, it was a certainty that she would expect matters to reach their logical conclusion. And if, after having again aroused her passion for him, he refused to play…?

It was that he had had in mind when he had told Count Laszlo that, if she gave him away, he would have only himself to blame. If he was not out of Budapest by Saturday Me would be safe only if he put his scruples behind him. And even that was not the final issue. If he did find that Sabine was inclined to be indiscreet about Nazi affairs, and that with patience he could wheedle really valuable information out of her, to make the utmost of such a marvellous opportunity he would feel it his duty to stay on in Budapest as long as she did. Then there could be no escape from becoming her lover again.

He was honest enough with himself to admit that should that happen one side of him was going thoroughly to enjoy it; but the other side was his private conscience, and as far as that was concerned, Sabine was no longer just an old flame. She had become fire and he was playing with it.

Divided Loyalties

Chapter 10

The St. Gellert Baths were, perhaps, the nearest thing of their kind in the modern world to those palatial establishments for health, social intercourse and sensual pleasure that had been such a prominent feature of Roman civilization. The great building stood facing the Danube on the slope of the Gellert hill at the southern end of Buda.

In its lower floor there were marble halls and corridors leading to scores of rooms in which patients consulted their doctors and every variety of treatment could be given. On the next level there was a true replica of a Roman swimming bath. Towering columns flanked its sides, on its broad paved surround stone seats, where the bathers could rest awhile, were interspersed with larger than life-size statues of the gods and goddesses, and the water in it bubbled; for it was known as the 'champagne bath,' from being aerated by pipes set in its bottom so that swimmers should enjoy additional friction as they passed through these aerial fountains. On the same floor there were long corridors of rooms in which dozens of male and female attendants plied their trade as masseurs.

Above, and set still further back into the slope of the hill, was another swimming pool open to the skies. The tiles with which it was lined gave the effect of the water in it being blue, and at regular intervals a mechanism connected with it created artificial waves, so that bathers could take their choice of going in either when it was rough or smooth. The pool was set in a horseshoe shaped arena, the base of which was occupied by a restaurant. Outside it there were tables shaded by gaily coloured umbrellas. Round the rim of the horseshoe there was every type of well sprung lie low, swing seat and basket chair, and the whole was protected from the wind by a sixty foot high bank planted with flowering shrubs and flowers.

At a few minutes before eleven Gregory was waiting for Sabine on the broad flight of steps outside the entrance. She arrived shortly afterwards, driving herself, in a pale blue and silver Mercedes. When she had parked the car she greeted him without a smile and a shade hesitantly.

'I can't think what got into me last night. I behaved like a sentimental schoolgirl. This morning I was in half a mind not to come; but I couldn't quite bring myself to have you arrested without first having heard what you have to say.'

'I'm glad of that,' Gregory replied with becoming seriousness, 'because if you had I am quite sure that for ages to come you would have suffered the most terrible remorse from having sent me to my death.'

'You seem to be more concerned for me than about yourself.'

'Naturally.' He grinned suddenly. 'Once dead I wouldn't have anything to worry about.'

She gave him a reluctant half smile. 'Aren't you even a little bit afraid that I might put my duty before sentiment, and tell the police I know you to be a British secret agent?'

From the higher step on which he stood he smiled down on her, then shook his head. 'No, not even a little bit. You are far too nice a person to betray an old friend; and, anyhow, you're quite wrong about me being here as a spy.'

'I wish I could believe that; but knowing the sort of man you are, how can I?'

'What's come over you this morning? I suppose it must be that having me on your conscience gave you a bad night. Come on; let's go inside and bathe. Then we'll have our talk and, if you really feel you must, you can put the police on to me afterwards.'

'I'm not going to bathe with you. And you're right about my having had a bad night. I've been worrying myself silly over this thing, and I want to get it settled right away.'

Gregory saw now that he would have to go all out to win her round again, otherwise she might prove a really serious danger to him; so he said earnestly: 'Listen, Sabine. I may have been exaggerating a bit when I said that if you denounce me I will be shot. You must know that I'm not the sort of man to allow myself to be arrested while there is a fighting chance of keeping my freedom. But I might quite well be caught before I could get across the frontier. If I were, there would be nothing you could do about it afterwards. Like it or not, you would be compelled to give evidence that I am an Englishman and that, coupled with the fact that I am here under a false identity, would certainly lead to my being condemned as a spy; and in wartime spies are shot. So for both of us this is a really serious matter, and you will feel much more capable of taking a right decision about it after you have freshened yourself up with a swim.'

'I haven't brought a swimsuit.'

'That's no difficulty. I'll hire one for you.'

I… I don't like wearing things other people have used.'

'Nonsense! You know perfectly well that in a place like this they are thoroughly sterilized. What you really mean is you would prefer to display that lovely figure of yours to me in a swimsuit chosen by yourself. That is quite unnecessary when I remember so well all the hidden charms beneath anything you wear including that tiny mole on the left side of your tummy.'

A faint blush coloured her magnolia cheeks for a moment and she stamped a small well shod foot. 'Really, Gregory! It's: not fair to rake up the past; and I didn't mean to let you talk to me about that sort of thing.'

'Am I to take it, then, that you neglected to say your prayer this morning?'

Her eyes widened. 'My prayer? What d'you mean? I have no special prayer.'

'Oh yes, you have. At least, you used to say one in the old days. It went: "Holy Mary, I believe, that without Sin Thou didst conceive. And now I pray, in Thee believing, that I may Sin without conceiving".'

Too late he realized that, by implying that she might have said that prayer before coming to meet him, he had fully committed himself as aspiring again to become her lover. But the merry little rhyme did the trick. Throwing back her head she suddenly burst out laughing. Then she cried:

'Of course I remember. And every morning you used to buy flowers to set before my little statue of the Virgin, just to show that we didn't really mean to take her name in vain. What fun it was.'

Taking her gently by the arm he led her unresisting up the steps into the baths; and she made no further protest while he bought their tickets.

It was the last Friday in August and a day of brilliant sunshine; so there were far fewer people in the Roman bath than up round the Blue Pool on the higher level, yet the horseshoe terrace there was by no means as crowded as Gregory remembered it in peacetime. To bathe there was as expensive as to swim from the Excelsior on the Lido or the Bar du Soleil at Deauville, and although Budapest's hotels were full it was not with wealthy holidaymakers from other countries; but the terrace was a favourite haunt of those in the capital's smart set who remained in it for a part of the summer, so as Sabine came out to the Pool several acquaintances waved greetings to her.

Gregory took note of these salutations with silent satisfaction. She had already compromised herself the night before at the Piccadilly by accepting him as a friend, and she was doing so again. It could now be pointed out to her that, should conscience drive her to the police, she might explain away her failure to act the previous night as being due to reluctance to create a scene in public, but it would not be, easy to laugh off having come swimming with him the following morning. That, coupled with a disclosure that he had formerly been her lover, might make things decidedly awkward for her with Ribbentrop. He was in good hopes now that she would not force him to resort to such shifts in defence of his safety; but he knew from the past that she was, like so many Hungarians, fanatically patriotic and, as a woman, distinctly unpredictable; so he got down to the work of setting the clock back by every means he could think of.

It was work that entailed little effort and no hardship. There she was with her golden brown body made the more striking from having chosen a white elastic swimsuit, and looking more like a million dollars than most things one sees in Vogue. She could swim like a fish and dive like a heron. In the great bath there were rubber seahorses, dolphins and a huge coloured ball to play with. As a background there were a. score of other bathers and two score more lounging round the pool, with a lot of pretty women among them; but they served only to throw her up as their superior. Laughing and romping they went in and out until after half an hour they had just pleasantly tired themselves. Then Gregory piloted her to a rubber mattress that was out of earshot from other people and, as she stretched herself on it, sat down on a cushion beside her. Signalling a waiter he sent for two champagne cocktails, and as the man went off said to Sabine:

'Now, tell me about yourself.'

'It's for you to tell me about yourself,' she replied with a sudden return to gravity.

He shook his head. 'Not just yet. I don't think we are going to quarrel, but we might; and I'm much too fond of you to run the least risk of that before I've learnt what has been happening to you these past few years.'

'If you were all that interested you could have written to find out.'

'No. You know as well as I do that we agreed we wouldn't write because letters would only make our craving for one another greater.'

'That's true. And they probably wouldn't have found me anyway; because after our brief romance I travelled quite a lot mostly in Italy.'

'Tell me about your marriage.'

'That was in the autumn of nineteen thirty-eight. Kelemen Tuzolto was a nice person. He was cultured, intelligent and very distinguished looking. I can't honestly tell you that I worshipped the ground he walked on, but he was a man a woman could respect, and I had a great fondness for him.'

'It sounds as if he was a good bit older than yourself.'

'He was.'

'For that matter, I am. You can't be much more than twenty-eight, and I'm over forty.'

She gave him a contemplative look from under her long lashes. 'I think you will still be attractive to women when you are sixty. It's not your lean face and muscular body so much as your mental vitality. No one would ever be bored while in your company. Anyhow, twelve years or so isn't much between a man and a woman, and personally I've always hated being pawed by empty-headed children who think they are irresistible because they have just put on their first uniform. No, Kelemen wasn't terribly exciting and he was a little on the wrong side of fifty, but he was one of the nicest people I've ever known.'

'From the way you speak of him I take it that he is dead?'

'Yes. He died about eighteen months ago from a heart attack. It was an awful shock, and I've been terribly restless ever since.'

'Poor you. But why the restlessness? Did he leave you badly off?'

'Oh no. I receive quite a big income from our stud farm down on the Hortabagy, and as Kelemen had no legitimate children I have the life tenancy of the Tuzolto palace on the

Szinhay Utcza. It is one of the smaller ones, but a very pleasant house. And I've a villa on Lake Balaton.'

'Your making a wealthy marriage must have been a great relief to your mother after the difficult time she had in making two ends meet while you were a girl. Is she still alive?'

'Yes. When I married, Kelemen insisted that she should come to live with us, and she has her rooms in my three houses. But for most of the year she lives down on the Hortabagy, and we don't see much of one another these days.'

'Why? Don't you get on together?'

Sabine sat up, shrugged, turned over and lay down again on her tummy. 'I wasn't very clever about my early life, as I think I once told you. My morals were no worse than those of other girls of my class, but the trouble was that they were rich and I was not. They could afford to have their affaires and still make good marriages. My only asset was my looks, so I ought to have made them the bargaining price of marriage, but I didn't; and by the time I met you I had got myself the sort of reputation that doesn't induce a rich young man of good family to lead a girl to the altar for her looks alone. It was that which caused the breach between mother and myself.

'I met Kelemen in Italy, and being older he did not have to have his family's approval to marry me; and, of course, when I returned like a sheep to the fold as a Baroness, mother was delighted. Kelemen's having made an honest woman of me, she naturally expected that after his death I would make another good marriage, but I disappointed her by becoming Ribb's mistress instead. She wouldn't have minded so much if I had gone back to having brief affaires with anyone who took my fancy, but a permanent liaison with such a prominent statesman is impossible to conceal, and she is such a hypocrite that she refuses to recognize that living out of wedlock with one man is much less reprehensible than going to bed with half a dozen in the course of a year. So, once again, my name with her is mud.'

As Sabine lay face down on the mattress her chin was resting on her crossed arms. She had taken off her, bathing cap and her dark hair fell on either side of her face leaving a central parting down the back of her head. Where the parting ended there was one small curl about the size of a farthing on the nape of her neck. Looking down on her Gregory felt an almost irresistible desire to bend forward and kiss it; but, forcing the thought from his mind, he said:

'Tell me, why did you enter on this affaire with Ribbentrop?'

'Because I prefer it to playing hole in the corner games with men that I don't really love.'

'Surely you can't love him. Even decent Germans consider him an awful blackguard.'

'I don't love him; but he has something else to offer. He provides me with an intensely interesting life. He is not much of a lover, but he is clever, amusing, tolerant and a charming companion; so I like him quite a lot. As for being a blackguard, that is a matter of opinion. Most men who climb to such a high position in the world have to put the end before the means at times; and when he was Ambassador to Britain there were plenty of people among the English aristocracy who did not regard him as too much of a blackguard to court his friendship. He became a great favourite with the Cliveden set.'

'That's true,' Gregory admitted thoughtfully. 'And I can quite understand how fascinating you find it to be on the inside of all that's going on. Have you ever met Hitler?'

'Oh yes. I have twice stayed at Berchtesgaden.'

'Do tell me about it.'

Suddenly she turned over and sat up. 'No. That's the sort of thing I don't talk about to any one and you are the very last person to whom I'd risk giving something away. Anyway, now I've told you all about myself it's quite time you came clean with me.'

It was now half past twelve, and the terrace was much more crowded than when they had first come out on to it. Two groups of sunbathers had settled themselves quite near enough to overhear anything Gregory and Sabine said unless they kept their voices very low, so he said:

'Look, I'm not trying to stall on you, and we'll stay here if you like. But we don't want to run the risk of anyone reporting this conversation; so don't you think it would be wiser if we went somewhere a bit more private.'

She considered for a moment. 'Well, perhaps you're right. But where?'

'Let's go up to the Harmashatarhegy.'

'It's quite a long way.'

'What matter? You have a car, and I imagine that you are immune from such annoyances as petrol rationing. The shortage makes it all the more likely that it will be almost deserted. Anyhow, the tables in the garden are set far enough apart for us to talk freely.'

'When we have dressed we could go down and talk in the car.'

'What I have to say will take quite a long time. It will be close on one before we're dressed, and by the time I'm through we are going to be jolly hungry. It would be much more sensible to have our talk while we lunch.'

'But I didn't mean to lunch with you.'

'You've got to lunch somewhere, and this is just the day to lunch up on the mountainside among the birchwoods. Come along!' She was already sitting up; taking one of her hands, he stood up himself and pulled her to her feet. Then he added, with a grin, 'If we were alone in a sandy cove I'd give you a good spanking for being so obstreperous.'

She smiled at that. It called up another memory. They had gone for the weekend to a small hotel on a little frequented part of Lake Balaton. A good-looking American had been staying there on his own and had tried to get off with her. Gregory had told her that he did not want to have to take the fellow outside and give him a lesson; so she must not encourage him by returning his glances, and that if she did he would give her a spanking. She was not the least interested in the American, but out of devilment she had smiled at him that night as they were leaving the dining room. Gregory had not appeared to notice, but he had suggested a walk in the moonlight and taken her down to the little cove a good half mile away from the hotel. There, after a brief struggle, he had got her in a wrestler's lock with his left knee under her stomach and his right leg crooked over her calves to keep her legs down, Then he had torn off her drawers and spanked her until she had yelled for mercy. It had really hurt, but all the same she had loved it; and when, with the tears still wet on her cheeks, he had made love to her afterwards that had been absolutely marvellous.

In the pale blue and silver Mercedes they roared along the bank of the Danube, turned into the valley between the St. Gellert and main Buda hills and out into the country. The way wound up through woods that at times formed cool tunnels and at others dappled the road with sunlight. Moving at such speed along an almost empty road, the drive did not take long, and by half past one they were seated at a table in the garden of the inn.

Only half a dozen tables were occupied so they were able to get one between two others that were empty, but adjacent to the rustic railing that ran round the little plateau which had been made into an outdoor restaurant. The ground dropped away below them and from where they sat they could see for many miles. In the distance the capital, with its innumerable domes and spires, looked like a fairy city, and to either side of it the Danube wound away to disappear in the faint haze of the summer heat.

Gregory ordered a cup, made half from sparkling and half from still wine with pricked fresh peaches in it, and they ate cold Fogas, the most delicious of the Lake Balaton fish, garnished with freshwater prawns. But while the waiter took their order and served them they kept off the subject they had come there to talk about.

He asked her if she had again run across Lord Gavin Fortescue the dwarf with the distorted body and mind who had very nearly had both of them murdered and she replied that she thanked all her gods that she had not. He told her then that he had heard rumours that for some years past Lord Gavin had been living in South America.

She enquired affectionately after Sir Pellinore who had been very kind to her during the difficult time she had spent in England and he was able to tell her that the elderly Baronet was as hale and hearty as ever. Then, for a good part of the meal, they talked about the extraordinary adventure that had first brought them together.

With their wood strawberries they drank Tokay. It was not Imperial, as that had left the Imperial cellars only as a personal gift of the Emperor to other crowned heads on their birthdays, or to Ambassadors on their departure after many years en post in Vienna. But the wine waiter dug out for them a little bottle of 1874 from the vineyards of the Duke of Windezgratz. Its grade of Five Puttanos indicated that five small barrels the maximum number of grapes that had been left on the vines until they were almost raisins had gone into the big cask of earlier vintaged wine; and age had taken off its original cloying sweetness. This nearest thing to bottled sunshine had the flavour of honey diluted with fine dry sherry, and it provided the perfect complement to their two heaped plates of little red, highly perfumed Fraises des Bois.

When they were halfway through them Gregory said, 'Now for the awful truth about my nefarious activities.' Then he told her the object of his mission, but he made no mention of how he had progressed with it.

She listened to him with grave wide eyes, and When he had done asked:

'What conclusion have you come to as a result of your enquiries?'

'That I have been wasting my time,' he lied, returning her gaze without the tremor of an eyelid. 'Of course, there are a certain number of people in every country who would like peace at any price; but from those I've talked to there doesn't seem to be much hope of getting Hungary out of the war.'

'Whom have you talked to?'

'A number of chaps that I've picked up in bars. Count Laszlo was one, of course; but naturally I dared do no more than sound them while playing my role of a Frenchman who is inclined to be a bit pro de Gaulle. There was only one exception. After three years of war London is hopelessly out of ( touch with what goes on here, as we have no permanent agents stationed in Hungary at all. But they gave me the name of one man to whom I could come clean with safety. He is a Jewish merchant and he gave me a far from encouraging general idea of what I should hear from other people later, although naturally he and all his race would like to see Hungary go over to the Allies.'

'Naturally. And no one can blame these wretched Jews for hating the Nazis.'

'Well!' he smiled. 'That's all there is to it, and I hope I've convinced you now that I am not a spy.'

'No.' She drew hard on her cigarette. 'You are not a spy but, by God, you are a saboteur. Blowing up all the bridges on the Danube and the Arsenal would be just nothing to what you are attempting to do.'

'That depends on how you look at it,' he replied quietly.

'There is only way I can look at it. You came here with the idea of trying to get Hungary to desert her allies. If she did Germany might lose the war.'

He nodded. 'She will lose it anyway. It's only a matter of time.'

'I don't agree. Hitler now has a firm grip on Europe from Northern Norway to the Pyrenees, and from Crete to the Gulf of Finland. He can do what he likes with Vichy France, which gives him North Africa from Casablanca to the Egyptian frontier, and the few remaining neutrals Sweden, Spain, Portugal dare not lift a finger against him. He has only to finish off Russia and, to use your own phrase, it will then "be only a matter of time" before the British and Americans have to agree a peace on such terms as he cares to give them.'

'My dear, you are making the same mistake of underestimating the British as your friend Ribb did when he was Ambassador and told his master that we hadn't got the guts to fight. Nothing short of invasion and conquest could enable Hitler to impose a peace on Britain; and he missed his chance of that in 1940.'

'It will come again. Once he has put Russia out of the war, he will be able to send two hundred divisions to do the job.'

'That won't help him. They would still have to cross the Channel, and the RA.F. is now infinitely stronger than it was in the Battle of Britain. An attempt to invade now could lead only to a massacre in which hundreds of thousands of Germans would be drowned.'

After a moment she said, 'You may be right about that; but one thing is certain. Even with their air superiority the British could not invade the Continent. And if they did refuse Hitler's terms that would not just lead to a stalemate. He would send armies down through Turkey and Egypt into Asia and Africa. Within a year he would have conquered India and all Africa down to the Cape, while bigger than ever U-boat fleets got a stranglehold on Britain and starved her into surrender.'

'You are forgetting the United States.'

She shrugged. 'And you are forgetting the big German and Italian populations over there. America's heart is not in the war in Europe. It is the Japs she is so mad against; and they are going to take a lot of beating. They will keep the U.S. busy for two years at least, and that will be quite long enough for Hitler to have forced Britain to her knees.'

Gregory naturally refrained from telling her that America was already pouring men and aircraft into Britain with the intention of attempting the liberation of the Continent as soon as the build up was big enough. Instead he said:

'I quite understand your point of view, but you must admit that you are counting your chickens before they are hatched. All this depends on Russia's being defeated, and she is very far from that yet.'

'On the contrary. Russia is on her last legs. She can't carry on without oil.'

'I know that, but the Germans will find the Caucasus a hard nut to crack. It is much easier to defend than the great open steppes further north. They will be held up in the mountains and get bogged down there for another winter.'

Sabine gave a superior little smile. 'The German General Staff aren't fools; they know that, and they'll do no more than pin large Russian forces down there. Stalingrad is the key to the situation, and that is why the Russians are fighting so hard to hang on to it. Once Stalingrad falls the Volga will be cut. The supplies of oil which are sent up it will cease and the whole of the Russian front north of Stalingrad must collapse.'

With a rather gloomy nod Gregory admitted, 'I suppose you are right about that.' But inwardly he was smiling. The friend of his who had been with him in the Worcester had said to him a few weeks previously over lunch, 'The one snag about being on the Joint Planning Staff is that one simply dare not discuss the war with people outside the setup; and for that reason I've had to give up seeing nearly all my old friends. You see, however careful one is, it is practically impossible to talk about what is going on without the risk of giving something away not actual plans, of course, but while making some general statement.'

And that was precisely what Sabine had done. She had spoken with such assurance all through their conversation that her opinions were clearly those she had heard expressed by Ribbentrop and his friends, and now she had as good as said that the Germans meant only to maintain heavy pressure in the Caucasus while throwing everything else they could possibly rake up against Stalingrad. Coming from such a source it was a piece of information of inestimable value. For it meant that, there being no threat to the Russians' immensely long front to the north of Stalingrad, they could safely denude it of reserves and use them to stem the German advance in the vital sector.

Gregory felt that if, in all other respects, his journey to Budapest had proved a failure, this plum alone would have made it more than worth while. It strengthened his feeling that, come what might, he must contrive to spend as long as possible in Sabine's company, on the off chance that from her full scarlet lips there might drop other pearls of strategic knowledge.

'So you see,' she was going on, 'the Russians haven't a hope. With two months still to go before the winter closes in, the Germans have ample time to mount another all out offensive. The army defending Stalingrad will be overwhelmed by sheer weight of numbers, and by Christmas Stalin will have been compelled to throw his hand in.'

That was, of course, the very thing Gregory feared himself, and it was in the hope of saving the Russians by taking pressure off them that he had come to Budapest. In the circumstances, he could produce no sound arguments against her contentions; so he tried another tack:

'Very well, let's concede that, and look at the broader picture. It still leaves Britain and America in; and the Americans may not take as long as you think to finish off the Japs. Meanwhile, I give you my word that the British would sooner eat cats and rats than accept a dictated peace, and they will keep on bombing hell out of the German cities. It might go on for years and years. Think of the untold misery that will be suffered by millions of people on both sides. Surely it's up to all of us to try to find some way to prevent that happening?'

'Naturally,' she agreed at once. 'Nobody but a lunatic would want this awful slaughter to go on for a day longer than it is necessary. But your proposal is no solution. If the Hungarian army withdrew from the Russian front the Germans would have to fill the gap. That would leave them without sufficient reserves to make their breakthrough. Then the war there would drag on indefinitely; so you would have brought about the very thing you say you are trying to prevent.'

'No. Once Hitler realized that he could not finish the Russians off in the foreseeable future, he would have to think again. Given time to train and equip their huge manpower, the Russians will be able to go over to the offensive, and with every month the United States is growing stronger. Hitler would see the red light and put out peace feelers before the tide started to turn against him. If he did so this winter I think there is an excellent chance that an arrangement could be reached by which both sides might save their faces.'

Gregory did not really believe that either side would now stop fighting short of complete victory, but he thought the possibility worth holding out. It proved quite the contrary, for Sabine shook her head and promptly declared:

'If there were a patched up peace, it would be a bad day for Hungary.'

'Why do you think that?' he enquired.

'Because Bolshevik Russia would have survived, and would continue indefinitely to be a menace to Christian Hungary.'

'That is an old bogy. You put down your own revolution here in 1919 and for the twenty years that followed Hungary was never threatened by Russia; so I don't see why you should think that she might be in the future.'

'You would if you had watched the Soviets' five-year plans going forward through those years, and realized the overwhelming strength Russia would have attained, given another ten years of peace to develop her resources. And, remember, Hungary is very differently situated from England. We had a common frontier with Russia and if those ruthless swine ever get back to it they could mass their huge armies within a hundred and fifty miles of Budapest.'

'True. But the Bolshevik revolution is long since over, and there is at least some reason to hope that this war will bring Russia back into lasting friendly relations with the democracies. Anyhow, if Hungary had made peace possible by withdrawing her support from Germany, I am certain that the Allies would guarantee the integrity of her frontiers at the Peace Conference.'

'The Allies!' Sabine exclaimed, her dark eyes going almost black with anger. 'Would you place your life in the hands of a known murderer. Look what the Allies did to Hungary after the last war. That filthy, double-crossing little Welsh lawyer, Lloyd George, the dyed in the wool socialist, Clemenceau, and that idiot American schoolmaster Woodrow Wilson between them stripped Hungary bare, put her on the rack then drew a knife across her throat. It is a miracle, and only by God's grace, that she survived. They stole the lands we have enjoyed for centuries and gave them to anyone who cared to ask. Chunks of Hungary's living body were hacked off and thrown to the Rumanians, Czechs, Italians, Austrians, Croats and Serbians, then what remained of her carcass was left a prey to its own lice Bela Kun and his bloody revolutionaries.'

Gregory held up a hand in protest. 'I know; I know! But that occurred when the whole world had been turned upside down by its first major catastrophe, and it is admitted now that, while trying to sort things out, the Allied statesmen made all sorts of stupid blunders. Every thinking person has since recognized that the Treaty of Trianon was an iniquitous injustice.'

'Well!' Sabine's voice was intensely bitter. 'What did they ever do about it? Nothing. Take my own case. It so happened that all the estates of my family were in Sclavonia. We were practically beggared and, if we had not had a few things in Budapest that we could sell, we should have starved. But we were lucky. Do you know that no less than one million five hundred thousand Hungarians were handed over to their old enemies. They were deprived of their nationality and treated as if they were serfs or cattle. That we have since got Transylvania, the Banat and Ruthenia back we owe entirely to Hitler. The British and French preferred to make friends of those awful Czechs, then sold them out to their enemies. Trust the Allies! No, thank you. I'd sooner rely on the word of the Devil.'

T can well understand your feelings; but try not to let them obscure your judgment in taking a long-term view of matters. If Hungary stands by Germany to the end she will almost certainly be deprived of Transylvania and Ruthenia again: whereas if she came over to the Allies now, when her help would be of real value, she would be certain of keeping them and, in addition, probably be given a port on the Adriatic. That is, assuming that the Allies win. But say you are right and Hitler wins, it would be a poor lookout for Hungary. That's why she should help us, otherwise within a couple of years she would be reduced to the state of a German province.' 'Worse things than that could happen to her.' 'Does that mean that you have become a Nazi?' 'No. They go too far. I have no love for the Jews, but this wholesale massacre of them simply does not bear thinking about. Neither do the things that go on in the concentration camps. Of course, putting cranks and troublemakers behind bars until they come to their senses is entirely justified, because it is for the good of the majority. It is the only way to nip in the bud riots and disturbances which might otherwise bring injury, loss and hardship to thousands of people. But that can be done the way the Fascists did it in Italy. As I told you, I lived there for quite a time, and I became a great admirer of Mussolini.'

'So was I,' Gregory admitted frankly. 'There is no doubt about it, he saved Italy from going Communist and afterwards did a fine job of work in cleaning the country up. There was a good case too for his going into Abyssinia. The trade in slaves that was carried on from there across the Red Sea to Arabia was nobody's business, and conditions were still so barbarous that in the prisons men and women convicted of petty theft were chained to big logs. No one else wanted the place, so why we couldn't let Musso bring a little daylight into it and colonize it with some of his surplus population goodness only knows.'

'If you thought that, it seems you differed from most of your countrymen.'

Gregory shrugged. 'Oh, we aren't all woolly minded idealists. Quite a lot of us, and myself included, were all for Franco in the Spanish War. If he had lost, Madrid would be controlled from Moscow by now. Franco has proved a cleverer man than Musso, though, in keeping out of the present struggle. By remaining neutral the Duce had all to gain and nothing to lose. He could have turned Italy from a poor in a rich country by putting his whole population on to manufacturing the goods and growing the food that they could have sold to both sides for pretty well any price Italy liked to ask; whereas he is now committed to maintaining armed forces which will bankrupt his country, and when the end comes he'll be lucky if he gets away with his life.'

'There you go again with your absurd idea that the Allies are going to win.' Sabine gave him a slightly pitying smile. It really is only wishful thinking, and Mussolini knew quite well what he was doing when he threw in his lot with Hitler. He couldn't expect to get something for nothing, but now he will get Malta as a stepping stone across the Mediterranean, and Egypt, the Sudan and Kenya; so he'll have the whole of North East Africa and Tripoli to Zanzibar as a new Roman Empire.'

'He won't while Churchill has a kick left in him,' Gregory declared firmly. 'But we are getting away from the point.'

'At least we are agreed that Communism is the great Evil.'

'Yes, I'm with you there. But Hitler is nearly as bad.'

'The devil you know is better than the devil you don't know; and Hitler is by no means all devil. About many things he is a great idealist. Anyhow, much as we Hungarians would like to enjoy complete independence, Hungary will be a paradise with Hitler as her nominal overlord compared to what she would be under the Soviets. That is why we must stick to Germany and do every mortal thing we can to speed her victory. Only one thing matters. The complete and utter destruction of Communist Russia. If we fail in that it wilt be the end, not only for us here in Central Europe, but sooner or later for you in Britain too.'

Gregory had always been intensely anti-Communist, and he had a horrible feeling that she might be right. But it was not for him to question whether Britain would not ultimately find Russia a more deadly enemy than the Nazis. It was a case of first things first and Hitler represented an evil which must be destroyed. But he felt that he had no further arguments by which he might hope to win Sabine's approval of his mission; so he said:

'Well, there it is. We must agree to differ about immediate ends. However, I hope I have convinced you that, as my mission has met with no success, I am doing no harm here.'

'No.' She shook her head. I am not convinced of that. You are an enemy agent and a would-be saboteur. You are an intelligent and resourceful man; so highly dangerous. And I have only your word for it that you are not ferreting out all sorts of secrets which might be helpful to the Allies and to Russia. It is impossible for me to refrain from taking any action about you.'

He suddenly sat forward. 'Sabine! You can't really mean that you intend to have me arrested?'

T would, without hesitation, if you were anyone else,' she replied seriously. 'I may have to, and I certainly will if you refuse to accept the way out for you that I have thought of to square matters with my conscience. From here we are going straight back to the Vadaszkürt. There you will pack your bags under my supervision. Then I intend to see you off on this evening's non-stop express to Vienna.'

The Devil Pulls a Fast One

Chapter 11

Gregory smiled, but only to cover his inward consternation. Since she had allowed him to persuade her to come up to the Harmashatarhegy he had been 'counting his chickens'; but this showed her to be a much tougher proposition than he had bargained for. If he agreed, he would not be able to attend the Committee meeting fixed for next day, and would have to go home without learning their final decision after hearing General Lakatos's opinion about the number of Allied divisions needed to hold the Nazis in the West. He would be able to report nothing more than that prospects of getting the Hungarian magnates to force their government into breaking with Germany seemed good, instead of bringing back, as he had excellent reason to hope, cut and dried terms. After having stayed on for the past week, and by great tact during the long wrangles of the Committee got them so near agreement, he did not mean to be robbed of his triumph if he could possibly help it. Realizing that his only chance now lay in temporizing, he said lightly:

'As I have already learned that my mission has no prospect of success, I've nothing against leaving Budapest except…' His smile deepened and his brown eyes looked straight into hers. 'Well, you can guess that one.'

'I take it you mean me.' She gave him a half smile then quickly looked down and stubbed out her cigarette. 'Thanks for the compliment, but I accept it with reserve. I'm not quite such a fool as to fail to realize that you chose this place for lunch because I brought you here on our first evening together in Budapest.'

'Of course,' he admitted, 'and what a wonderful night that was. We stood hand in hand by the railing, here, watching the million twinkling lights in the city, and the blue-black vault above it sprinkled with a million stars. Then we were driven down the hill back to the Donau Palota to become lovers.'

'You needn't go on. As I was just going to say, I realized at once that by arousing such memories you were hoping to over come my scruples about you. But it hasn't worked; and it won't.'

'That's not quite fair. On my word of honour those memories are very precious to me; and I have already accepted your decision that I must leave Budapest. I was only expressing how greatly I regret that it must be tonight, as that robs us of the chance to put back the clock for a day or two.'

'Yes, I do believe you about that,' she admitted in a softer voice. 'And I feel the same. Terrible as it is to know that as we sit here in the sunshine thousands of Englishmen and Hungarians are being killed and wounded fighting on opposite sides in this terrible war, that doesn't make any difference to personal relationship. I would have loved to revisit with you all the places where we had such happy times together. But it just can't be done. I made up my mind in the small hours of this morning about how I must handle this, and I'm not going to change it.'

Her frank admission that she was still drawn to him gave him a gleam of hope. If only he could persuade her not to insist on his departure until the next day, he would somehow manage to see Count Laszlo that night and learn from him the all-important final decision of the Committee. But for the moment he refrained from pressing her, and said instead:

'I quite understand; but why do you wish me to go to Vienna?'

'Because it is the quickest way out of the country.'

'Maybe; but I have no visa for Germany.'

'I can fix that. It is only half past three so there's plenty of time and I'll go with you to the Passport Office.'

'They'll take twenty-four hours at least to get a visa from the Germans.'

She shook her head. 'Not if I go with you. There are advantages, you know, in being Ribb's special friend. There are very few things that I couldn't get done in any of the Ministries. We'll have it back in a couple of hours.'

He grinned. 'It's nice to have a pull like that; but I'd very much rather not go to Vienna. The Gestapo are a pretty bright lot, and heaven help me if I slipped up while in their home territory. I would much rather go out through Yugoslavia, as I came in that way. Surely you've no objection to my leaving via Zagreb?'

'Yes, there is a snag to that. The Vienna express stops only at the frontier. I intend to get the Passport Control people to telephone and have you met there, and seen across it. I don't mean as an undesirable, but with special courtesies as a V.I.P. That will ensure you really leave Hungary. The train down to Zagreb makes several stops on the way; so you might get out at one of them and come back.'

'Why should I? As I have already satisfied myself that I can do no good here, there would be no point in my returning.'

She smiled at him quizzically. 'I have only your word for that. Apart from the mission you told me of you may be collecting all sorts of valuable information.'

I promise you, I'm not. And even if I were, as I have already been here a fortnight, what could another night or two matter?'

It wouldn't,' she said slowly. 'That is, if I could keep an eye on you.'

'Darling, that is the very thing I am asking you to do.' At that sign of her weakening his response had been immediate; although in making it he set a course that if followed up would put an end to his hope of being able to remain faithful to Erika. Somehow he had got to remain in Budapest overnight so as to see Count Laszlo before leaving and he could think of only two ways in which he might manage to do that.

One was to get tough with Sabine. He had few scruples, but his sense of what one could or could not do with a clear conscience forbade him luring her into the woods then binding and gagging her, and leaving her there until he put through an anonymous call to the police next morning telling them where they could find her. Gags had an annoying way of being either too loose or too tight. If the former, after a quarter of an hour's hard jaw working the victim could shout for help; if the latter, within an hour or two the victim died a most painful death from slow suffocation and he certainly was not prepared to gag Sabine in a way which would cause her more than temporary discomfort. But he could either leave her sitting here while he drove off in her car, or put her out of it on the way back. The snag was that if he used any of these ways of freeing himself from her, within an hour she would have every policemen in Budapest hunting for him, and several hours must elapse before it was any good going to see Count Laszlo; so he would have to run a high risk of arrest in order to do that and a still greater one before he could get out of the city and across the frontier.

The other possibility of pulling his chestnuts out of the fire was to persuade Sabine that he was in earnest about wanting to remain in Budapest solely on her account. If he could do that, he felt confident that a chance would occur for him to slip away from her for an hour or two and get his business settled. It was unquestionably the sounder plan and now that he was launched upon it he went on quickly:

'Listen! There is an alternative route to Zagreb which runs along the south shore of Lake Balaton. Why not let's go down for the weekend to that little hotel where we stayed before. That is two thirds of the way to the frontier; so after we've had a lovely reunion it would mean only an hour in the train for you to come down and see me over it yourself.'

'You have forgotten about Ribb.'

'But I thought you said that he was going back to Berlin tomorrow afternoon. We could still get down to that little hotel in time for dinner; and we'd have all Sunday or a whole week there together if you liked.'

"That is out of the question. I must leave for Berlin on Wednesday in any case; but it is really tonight that I was thinking of.'

It was 'tonight' that he was thinking of too; but the fact that she was now giving serious consideration to his proposal made his heart beat a little faster, as he said: 'You told me that you expected Ribb to be tied up with Admiral Horthy this evening, and you as good as promised to dine with me; so why shouldn't you?'

'He will be, and I could.' She pulled hard on a newly lit cigarette. 'But I won't be entirely free to do as I like until he is on the train for Berlin. He is staying with the Regent at the Palace, of course; and all these top men work themselves so desperately hard that it is unlikely that he will come to my house in the Szinhay Utcza to say goodbye to me until lunchtime tomorrow. But one never knows.'

'Damn him!' Gregory muttered, with a scowl. But actually he was thinking 'This could not suit my book better. If I can get the hours between midnight and dawn to work in there will be no excuse for me to stay on and go down with Sabine to Balaton.' At the same time a small devil was telling him insistently that he would be behaving like a lunatic and always regret it if he left her in the lurch and ran away from this lovely gift the gods were now offering him. Quickly he quieted the devil with the thought that he was not forced to decide either way as yet, then he said:

'Anyhow, there is nothing to stop us dining and dancing together, and meeting again tomorrow afternoon after Ribb has gone.'

'Oh, but there is!' came her quick rejoinder. 'I had made up my mind not to lose sight of you until I saw you on to the train for Vienna. After all, I can't ignore the possibility that you have made useful contacts during your fortnight here, and that a last talk with them before you go might enable you to take valuable information back to London.'

She had now come so perilously near the truth that he could only look innocent, shrug and say, 'If you think that, I'll agree to any precautions that you like to suggest against my meeting people.'

After a moment's thought, she said, 'I'll have to make you my prisoner. We will collect your things from the Vadaszkürt and you must come to my house. My servants are fully trustworthy as far as not letting on to Ribb is concerned; and they will see to it that you don't go out at any time that I am otherwise occupied.'

He laughed then. 'What an amazing situation. There can never have been another like it. Think of it as a headline "From patriotic motives famous beauty keeps her lover prisoner." But, joking apart, I surrender willingly. Bless you, my sweet, for giving us this chance to recapture past joys.'

Sabine gave herself a little shake, then laughed back at him. 'After all the good resolutions I made this morning I must be crazy to do this. But the moment I set eyes on you last night I felt certain something of the kind was bound to happen.'

Laying his hand gently on hers he murmured, 'It won't be my fault if you regret it.' And at the time he meant what he said; although at the same moment he was thinking that, in spite of her servants, short of her locking him up in a cellar he would have lost his cunning if he could not find some way of leaving her house undetected in the early hours of the morning.

Now that their long battle of wits was over and a decision had been taken, they made no further reference to the subject, to the war, to Ribbentrop or to anything which had a bearing on the strangeness of their situation. Like two knights of the same companionship who have thrown off their armour after having had to joust against one another, they suddenly became completely relaxed, free of all strain and able to talk and laugh together without further thought of the hidden implications of what they might be saying.

The waiter had already cleared away but they sat on there in the now almost deserted garden through the long sunny afternoon. She told him of her life in Italy and later of when she was married to the Baron, and he told her of some of the intriguing jobs he had done for Sir Pellinore before the war. But again and again they came back to their own affaire with the words 'Do you remember…' Later they ordered Cafe Viennoise, which was served iced in tall glasses with thick cream, straws and long thin spoons. By the time they got up to go their minds were as well attuned as if they had never parted, and as they strolled slowly across to the car park they were holding hands.

It was nearly six o'clock when she dropped him near the Vadaszkürt, as they had already agreed that it would be better that she should not be seen picking him up from it with his luggage. She had no fear now that he might run out on her and disappear underground, and he had no intention of doing so; because now that she had consented to his staying on in Budapest he felt confident that he could complete his business without the risk he would have had to run had he let her down.

After asking at the desk for his bill, he went upstairs to his room and put through a telephone call. He knew that the Committee would already have met at Count Szegenyhaz's house, but as the meeting had been called for half past five he thought it unlikely that they would have yet reached their final decision, and in that he proved correct. Count Laszlo, to whom he spoke, could only tell him that the proceedings had opened well. He then explained to the Count in guarded language that he had become involved with the Baroness and was no longer a free agent. He added that he would be staying at her house for the night, but hoped to get away some time during it and, if he could, would come to Laszlo's house; then he arranged that should he fail to do so the Count would call at Sabine's the following morning at nine o'clock, and insist on seeing him on a private matter.

Having insured in this way that he would get the vital information, even if Sabine did lock him up for the night, he quickly packed his things, paid his bill and took a carriage to her house.

He found her small 'palace' to be similarly constructed to the Zapolya's much larger one. There was a lodge for the gatekeeper at one side of a big semicircular arch, and beyond the arch a square courtyard. Along its sides were garages, stables, laundry, brew houses, etc., with accommodation for the servants above them. At its far end a glass roofed vestibule led to the main hall which was evidently also used as a sitting room; for, although August was not yet out, wood fires were burning in big fireplaces on either side of it, and in front of both of these were a settee, easy chairs and occasional tables. In the centre of the hall a broad shallow staircase led up to a balustraded gallery at either end of which were suits of Turkish armour, then corridors leading to the first floor rooms and to narrower staircases running up to a second storey. The rooms were all low for their size; so the vaulted ceiling of the doubletier hall was not too high for comfort, and the upper surfaces of its cream stone walls being broken up with tapestries of the chase prevented it from being cold in appearance.

After Gregory had waited there for a few minutes Sabine came down the staircase. She had changed out of her day things into a housecoat of crimson velvet. The colour threw up both her pale magnolia skin and the dark beauty of her eyes and hair. As she came smiling towards him, he caught his breath; for, seen against this background, she might well have been a princess who had stepped straight out of a Ruritanian romance.

He told her so, and she raised a well arched eyebrow.

'Thanks for the charming thought; but perhaps it's as well that I'm not. No doubt they looked lovely enough, but they had nothing under their clothes but solid pink ice cream. I imagine you would be quite peeved if I sent you back to England with no more exciting memory of me than a half dead rose thrust into your hand at parting.'

'I certainly should,' he laughed, and took a quick step towards her. But she put up her hand with a swift glance of warning. A butler had just come through a side door carrying a bottle in an ice bucket and a tray with glasses. Opening the wine, he poured it and brought two glasses over to them. As Sabine took hers, she said:

I thought you would prefer champagne to a cocktail.'

Raising his glass he replied, 'Any time, anywhere; but never more so than here with you.'

Sitting down they began to discuss how they should spend the evening. In gay Budapest, both in peace and war, it was not unusual for couples to dine at one place then put in an hour or two at each of three or four others afterwards, and there were several of their old haunts that they would have liked to revisit; but Gregory knew that he had now burnt his boats and, without any mention being made of the matter, it was common ground that from after dinner onwards they could provide better entertainment for one another than any nightclub had to offer; so their choice had to be restricted to one place in which to dine.

Eventually they decided on the Arizona, which was strictly speaking a nightclub; but its floorshows were" the most original in Budapest, and a first performance was given for people who dined there, so the choice would enable them to kill two birds with one stone.

When they had finished their wine Sabine said, 'I'd better show you to your room, so that you can bathe and change.' I've had my bath already so if half an hour is enough for you I'll be down again by then.'

At the head of the staircase she turned left along the gallery, threw open a door at the far end of the corridor, and said, 'This is my room. Do you like it?'

Gregory followed her inside. The room was spacious but low ceilinged, furnished in excellent taste, and there hung about it the subtle perfume which, even had Sabine not been there, conjured up’ the image of a lovely and fastidious woman. At its far end there was a wide semicircular window and, walking over to it, she drew aside two of the curtains. Dark had fallen but it was still light enough to see the graceful Swing Bridge two hundred feet below them, the Danube and beyond it the spires of Pest merging into the coming night.

For a full moment they stood side by side in silence. Suddenly her hand clutched his and she turned towards him. Next moment she was in his arms. His mouth came down on her eagerly parted lips in a long rich kiss. They broke it only to gasp for breath, then their mouths locked again in another.

Her arms tightened round his neck and he could feel her small breasts crushed against his chest. The muscles of her body grew rigid and she began to quiver as though shaken by a fit of ague. Throwing back her head she exclaimed in a hoarse whisper:

'Darling! Oh, darling; I want you so badly. I can hardly wait.'

Although they were alone his voice too came in a whisper, as he strained her to him and replied, 'Wait! My sweet; why should we wait?'

'No!' With sudden resolution she jerked her arms from across his shoulders, put her hands against them and forced him away. 'No! Not yet! It would spoil things for us… later.'

Reluctantly he released her and muttered, 'I suppose you're right. But with you in my arms time has no meaning any more.'

'It hasn't for me either. But we've all night before us, and the moon will not be up for two hours yet. I want you first to love me in the moonlight, just as you did on our first night together. Do you remember?'

'God alive! As though I could ever forget!' He grasped her arm and gave her a slight shake. 'You had better show me my room now, though; otherwise you won't get your wish.'

Drawing a quick breath, she murmured, 'You're right. I ought never to have brought you in here. Your room is immediately above this. Come; I'll show you.'

Out in the corridor she pulled aside a velvet curtain that masked a narrow flight of stairs, and led him up them to the room above. Still speaking in a conspiratorial whisper, she said, 'Half an hour. No longer.' Then, blowing him a kiss, she turned away, and ran down the stairs.

His heart still pounding heavily, Gregory looked about him. It was a double guest room and his bags had already been unpacked. To the right an open door showed a bathroom dimly lit; at the far end of the room there was a deep bay window similar to that in Sabine's. Walking over, he pulled aside a curtain, opened a section of the window and peered out.

Immediately below him was a balcony on to which Sabine's room opened. Below that, on the courtyard level, projected a wide terrace, and from it a steep retaining wall sloped down to a street on a lower level. That, he decided, was the way he must go when he left the house in the early hours of the morning. It would be much simpler than fumbling his way downstairs in the dark and making his way out by the vestibule. The drops to Sabine's balcony and from there to the terrace looked quite easy; and by then she should be sunk in the deep dreamless sleep that follows satisfied passion, so there would be little chance of her hearing him outside her window.

He was much relieved at finding his way clear to paying a call round about dawn at Count Laszlo. That would ensure them an uninterrupted private talk; whereas, had he had to rely on the sheet anchor he had thrown out of the Count's coming to Sabine's, it was possible that she might have smelt a rat and refused to allow them to remain alone together.

Now, thrusting from his mind all thoughts but those of joyous anticipation in the evening that lay before him, he went into the bathroom. Finding that a bath had already been ran and scented for him, he sniffed appreciatively, pulled off his clothes and got into it. After a quick shave he dressed in his evening things and was back down in the hall just under the half-hour that Sabine had stipulated.

She joined him a few minutes later, now dressed in a light bodice and long full skirt of yellow silk brocade, and with diamond pendants sparkling below her ears. He helped her on with her sable coat, then they went out to the car.

The Arizona lay across the river in Pest, but it took them only ten minutes to get there. Having parked the car in a side street nearby, they walked the last hundred yards through the still, warm night to the entrance of the Club, while Gregory recalled to Sabine the last time they had been there. The place had then been owned by a huge fat woman possessed of a most ingenious imagination and a passion for dressing up. She always appeared at least once in her own cabarets, and on that occasion the high spot of the performance had been a tableau inspired by ancient Rome. Her mountainous body draped in a toga, and a laurel wreath perched on her sparse hair, she had lain upon a couch depicting one of the more decadent Caesars, while a giant negro held a feather fan above her head, and a bevy of her beautiful young girls posed nearly nude around her, offering fruit, wine, a peacock pie and other delights.

As Sabine assured him that this jolly old trollop was still the proprietress of the Arizona, they entered the Club, then separated while Sabine went into the cloakroom to leave her furs. Gregory had come hatless and coatless; so he had nothing to leave, but he took the opportunity to pay a visit to the 'gents.'

Just inside the door he found himself looking straight into the vulture like face of Captain Cochefert. The Vichy security man recognized him at once, and exclaimed with a toothy smile:

'Why, Monsieur le Commandant!' Then his voice sank to a lower note and he added, 'I have brought a guest here this evening whom I am sure you will know.'

At that moment the door of one of the cabinets opened, and out minced a plumpish man with hair cut en brosse, a heavy jowl and a thin sharp nose. In utter consternation Gregory found himself staring at his most deadly enemy the chief of the Foreign Department of the Gestapo, Herr Gruppenführer Grauber.

No Holds Barred

Chapter 12

Grauber was in his middle forties. His pasty complexion and a quite noticeable paunch gave the impression that physically he was not formidable, but they were deceptive; his broad shoulders gave him the strength of a bull, his long arms the grip of an orang-utan and, in spite of the smallness of his feet, he could move with the swiftness of a cat. Usually, however, for strong arm measures he relied on a member of his harem a selection of blond young S.S. men as brutal and perverted as himself one or more of whom generally travelled with him.

His small, light eyes had been set close together, but since November '39 he had had only one. Gregory had bashed out the other with the butt of a pistol. Its socket now held a glass imitation and, as it did not swivel with the other, the unnerving thought leapt to the mind that the Gestapo Chief was capable of looking two ways at once.

Through his Department, U.A.l, he controlled by far the greater part of Germany's secret agents outside the Fatherland the exceptions being the old military organization under Admiral Canaris and a small service run by the Foreign Office to provide Ribbentrop with special information. His rank was equivalent to that of a Lieutenant General and he was responsible only to Himmler. He spoke many languages and was an adept at disguise. Frequently he went about dressed in women's clothes, as he had a flair for playing feminine parts, much aided by a naturally effeminate voice. But tonight he was dressed in a well cut dinner jacket.

Gregory had first come up against him quite early in the war, at his secret headquarters in Hampstead. He had had an acid bath there for disposing of inconvenient corpses, but first induced his helpless victims to give him useful information by applying the lighted end of his cigar to their eyeballs. When in Finland, a few months later, he had beaten Erika for twenty minutes every morning on the muscles of her arms and legs with a thin steel rod. It was that which had determined Gregory, if he ever got the chance, to kill him very, very, slowly.

That this was not the chance Gregory needed no telling. In fact the odds were all the other way, and if he fell alive into Grauber's hands he could expect to die even more slowly.

As it was still early, few people had as yet arrived at the Arizona. In the washroom there were only Gregory, Cochefert, Grauber and the Hungarian attendant. The latter, unaware of the dramatic situation that had so suddenly developed within a few feet of him, was cheerfully swishing out the basin that Cochefert had just used. Gregory, his mouth a little open from stricken amazement, had his eyes riveted on the unhealthy face of the Gruppenführer. Grauber, equally astonished at this unexpected meeting, returned his stare without moving a muscle. Both were for a few moments like birds that have suddenly become paralysed from meeting the hypnotic glance of a snake. Of the three Cochefert alone retained a normal manner. Still smiling at Gregory, he waved a hand behind him, then said in French, and too low for the attendant to catch his words:

'You see, Colonel, I am honoured tonight by the presence of your Chief.'

As though the sound of his voice had released two springs, the other two sprang to life. Grauber was no coward, and such was his hatred of Gregory that to secure him for the torture chamber he would have risked his other eye. Gregory knew that if once he allowed himself to be arrested he would be better dead. His only hope was that he might render both men hors de combat before they could call in the police. Sabine's car was little more than a hundred yards away. If he could only reach it he would be able to get clear of Budapest before a serious hunt for him could be set going.

His right hand jumped to his hip pocket. It was there that he always carried his little automatic. His adrenalin glands suddenly began to function overtime, and beads of sweat started out on his forehead. The pocket was empty. While he had been changing, his thoughts had been so full of Sabine that he had forgotten to transfer the pistol from his day clothes. If either Grauber or Cochefert was carrying a weapon he was now at their mercy.

Grauber was not. At Gregory's swift gesture a flicker of fear had shown in his eyes. Then he caught Gregory's expression of dismay and saw his hand come away from his hip empty. With a cry of triumph, he thrust the astonished Cochefert aside and hurled himself forward.

There was not much room to manoeuvre. To get past Cochefert the Gruppenführer had had to step up on to the raised strip of floor on which stood the line of half dozen white porcelain pissoirs. Doing so threw him slightly off his balance. Seizing on this advantage, Gregory rushed in, ducked beneath the long arm thrust out to grab him and landed a blow on his enemy's body. With a howl of fury Grauber went over sideways, striking his head against one of the pissoirs and collapsing into it.

Barely ten seconds had elapsed since Gregory walked in through the door. The clash had occurred so swiftly that Cochefert had had no chance to speculate upon the reason for it. He still believed that Gregory was Obersturmbannführer Einholtz of the Gestapo, so was taken completely by surprise when he and Grauber rushed upon one another. But Grauber was unquestionably the senior. As he went over sideways and crashed into the porcelain gutter, discipline decided the Frenchman that he must side with him. Stepping a pace back from Gregory, which brought him up against the opposite wall, he pulled a small revolver from his pocket.

Gregory had already swung round towards him. Lifting his right foot he gave Cochefert a swift kick on the shin. The Frenchman's reaction was to lift his injured leg with a gasp of pain and, as his stomach contracted, the upper part of his body jerked forward. Instantly Gregory chopped with the fiat of his hand at the forearm of the hand that held the gun. With a second gasp Cochefert dropped the little weapon. It clattered on the tiled floor.

Both stooped to make a grab for it. Their heads came together with a crack. They staggered back; but Cochefert was quick enough to give it a swift sideways kick. It slithered away out of Gregory's reach before he could make another dive at it.

Meanwhile, with a spate of blasphemous curses, Grauber had picked himself up and was now yelling, 'Seize him! Seize him! Call the police! He must not escape!'

But there was no exit to the room other than the one Gregory was blocking; so the attendant could not get out to' call anyone. He was entirely unaware of the implications of the fray, and was naturally anxious to keep out of it. His only contribution was to snatch up the gun, which slid to a halt at his feet and, with laudable eagerness to prevent its being used, throw it into the dirty towel basket.

As Gregory was still at the door end of the room he could, at any moment, have swung round, wrenched it open and fled. But unless he could prevent Cochefert and Grauber dashing out on his heels, he knew that he would never reach Sabine's car. With shouts of 'Murder!' and 'Stop thief!' they would secure the aid of the Club door porter and various other people, one of whom would be certain to catch hold of, or trip, him. In another attempt to render them hors de combat, so that he could get at least a flying start, he first feinted at Cochefert then landed a terrific blow on the Frenchman's thin curved beak. Swinging round on Grauber, he tried the same tactics, but the more skilful German ducked the blow and closed with him.

Half blinded by the pain, and with blood dripping from his nose, Cochefert staggered aside. The other two went down in a heap with Gregory on top. Both of them knew every dirty trick worth knowing and neither had the slightest scruple about using them.

The German got one hand on Gregory's throat and with the thumb of the other attempted to jab out his nearest eye. Gregory tried to knee his antagonist in the groin, but failed in that. Then striving with one hand to break Grauber's grip on his throat, he struck savagely with the other, using the hard side of the palm, down on his adversary's Adam's apple.

They strove for mastery with gritted teeth, straining their muscles to the utmost and jerking from side to side as they fought. Grauber managed to keep a firm grip on Gregory's windpipe. Only by keeping his chin well down could he save himself from complete strangulation, and his breath was now coming in short, sobbing gasps. Yet he knew that his vicious chops at the German's Adam's apple must be causing him exquisite agony, and he could see that his one eye was growing misty. A few more strokes and pain must render him unconscious.

But there was still Cochefert. For a moment or two the Frenchman stood swaying drunkenly as the result of the terrible blow which had broken the bone in his nose. Then, lurching to the row of washbasins, he snatched up a large bottle of hair oil, turned, raised it aloft and brought it down on the top of Gregory's head. The bottle smashed; the scented oil streamed down over his face. With stars and circles flashing in sudden blackness before his eyes, it was he who then slid into unconsciousness, falling sideways across the body of his groaning enemy.

He was not out for long. By the time they had carried him to a car and thrown him on to its back seat he was again aware of his surroundings, if only vaguely. For a good two minutes he lay slumped in his corner wondering why he had such a pain in his head, how he had got where he was, and where he was being taken. Then his having run slap into Grauber in the men's toilet room at the Arizona suddenly came back to him.

Instantly everything else connected. His heart seemed to contract as the full knowledge of his position flooded in upon him. If Sabine had proved adamant, that would have been bad enough. But before she could have had him arrested he would anyhow have had a flying start; and if he had had the ill luck to be caught there would still have been a chance that, with the help of his Hungarian friends, he might have got away again. There would be no chance of that now that he had fallen into Grauber's hands. The Gruppenführer was not the man to let a prisoner communicate with anyone, or leave him the smallest loophole for even a forlorn hope of escape. Still more shattering thought, Grauber's bitter personal hatred of him would undoubtedly lead to his being treated with the utmost brutality.

As he opened his eyes a new wave of pain shot through his head. In front of him a man in a chauffeur's cap was at the wheel; so it looked as if they were in a civilian car. Next to the driver sat a bareheaded man wearing a white jacket. Peering at him in the dim light, Gregory wondered who he could be; suddenly it flashed upon him that it was the washroom attendant.

Turning his head very slightly, in order not to give away that he had come to, he looked sideways at the man beside him. The man's kepi showed that he was a Hungarian policeman. Beyond the policeman there was another figure, occupying the other corner of the back seat. After a few moments Gregory got a glimpse of him that confirmed his worst fears. It was Grauber.

The distance between the Arizona and the Police Station was quite short, and the still dazed Gregory had hardly catalogued his fellow passengers before the car pulled up. He now had his senses about him sufficiently to feel dismay. Had the drive been twice the distance he might at its end have been recovered enough to attempt making a bolt for it as they got out, but he was still terribly shaky.

Grauber opened the rear door on his side and slid out on to the pavement. The policeman took Gregory by the shoulder and gave him a shake. Feeling that there was nothing to be gained by having himself carried, he pretended to rouse up and lurched after the policeman out of the car.

His brain kept on telling him that if he once allowed himself to be taken inside he was finished. Only death could follow; and death at Grauber's hands would be more painful than anyone who had not been inside a Gestapo torture chamber could imagine. Yet, as he struggled out of the car, his knees almost gave under him, and he realized that he could not have staggered a couple of paces before being set upon and dragged into the Station. In an agony of mind he allowed the policeman to put a hand under his arm and guide him up the steps into the building.

It was only when the little group, minus the chauffeur, stood facing a Sergeant across his desk in an office that Gregory realized that Grauber was also a prisoner. Apparently the two of them, and Cochefert as well, had all been arrested for causing a disturbance in a public place; but the Frenchman, owing to his nose having been broken, had been taken by another policeman to hospital.

Now that, in spite of the pain in his head, Gregory's brain was functioning again, he exerted it to its utmost capacity in striving to find a way in which he could turn this totally unexpected situation to his advantage. He had plenty of money on him; so if only he could induce the police to accept a cash deposit of any sum they liked to name as security that he would turn up to face a charge before a magistrate in the morning, he might yet wriggle out of Grauber's clutches.

Yet, even as he toyed with this exhilarating possibility, he knew in his heart that he would never get away with it. Grauber was one of the highest Police Chiefs of an allied power. He had only to produce his credentials and say that the fracas had occurred solely as the result of his recognizing a British spy for him to have his enemy clapped into a cell, and walk out himself a free man.

And that, in effect, was what happened. The washroom attendant made his statement about the fight he had witnessed. Grauber produced his Gestapo card and declared Gregory's passport as Commandant Tavenier to be a fake. The Sergeant telephoned to the Gestapo liaison office in Budapest and, having given a description of Grauber, satisfied himself about the German's identity. He then asked, at Grauber's request, that a car should be sent to collect the Gruppenführer, and declared his intention of holding Gregory on the charge preferred.

Grauber angrily protested that a civil charge of having created a disturbance was not good enough. He wanted Gregory to be held as a dangerous enemy agent awaiting examination; and, further, demanded the right to proceed forthwith to examine him himself.

At that the Sergeant demurred, arguing that some evidence must be brought to support such a charge; and that, anyhow, it would be time enough to produce it when Gregory was brought before a magistrate next day. He added that he could not allow the prisoner to be cross-questioned there and then, as it was against regulations.

At that Grauber flew into a rage. Thumping the desk with his fist he shrilled out falsetto threats of what he would have done to the Sergeant unless he was given his way. The Sergeant, overawed by the high rank of the German Police Chief, decided that discretion was the better part of valour, so agreed to submit the matter to the Station Commandant.

While Gregory waited on tenterhooks a constable was sent to fetch the Commandant…Five minutes later he joined them: a square shouldered tough looking Captain of Police, with a slight cast in his left eye. After he had been given a brief resume of what had occurred, he dismissed the washroom attendant and took Gregory and Grauber into a small, barely furnished waiting room.

The Captain's eyes were blue although his nose was flat and his cheekbones high, indicating Tartar descent. For a moment he stood sizing up the two men before him, then he said to Grauber:

'It seems there is little doubt about your identity, Hen Gruppenführer, so naturally I wish to be as helpful as I can. Although it is against all ordinary procedure to allow one of two people picked up on the same charge' to question the other about something entirely different, since you say the matter is urgent you can go ahead.'

With a brief word of thanks, Grauber turned to Gregory and snapped: 'Now! What are you up to in Budapest?'

Gregory knew that he could not bluff Grauber; but he hoped that he might keep the mind of the Police Captain open by replying, I see no reason why I should submit to being questioned by you; but the sooner this matter is sorted out the better. It is evident that when you attacked me you mistook me for someone else. I am a Frenchman and I own a truffle farm in Perigord. I am here to sell my truffles.'

'A fine story!' Grauber sneered, 'And now I will tell you why I am here.'

'Thank you.' Gregory shrugged. 'But as I have never met you before I am not in the least interested.'

'Ah! But you will be! I am here because word reached my office a few days ago that a conspiracy is afoot in which a little clique of Hungarian magnates is plotting to bring pressure on their Government to sell out to the English.'

Gregory managed to keep his face expressionless; but Grauber's words were a sickening blow. His fears, that a leak to the Nazis would result from the casual disregard of security displayed by Count Zapolya's friends after the first big meeting at the Nobles Club, had proved well founded. He could only pray that so far Grauber had not secured any actual evidence against the members of the Committee, and hope for a chance to get a warning to them. Meanwhile the plump, pasty-faced German was going on:

'To run into you was a real stroke of fortune. On your past record as a secret agent, I would wager Reichsmarschall Goering's cellar against a bottle of sour claret that you are at the bottom of this plot.'

'You are completely wrong. I know nothing whatever about it.'

'Oh, yes, you do! There is no war activity in Budapest which would bring a man of your calibre here, but such big game as this is just your meat. Now; I want the names of everyone you have met since you arrived in Hungary.'

'If I had anything to hide I would not tell you; but during the fortnight I have been here I have met scores of people. My first few days were a little dull but I got into conversation with all sorts in the bars and at the swimming pools, and if you know how hospitable the Hungarians are you will appreciate that soon I had not a dull moment. There is hardly a night that I have not been to a party, and…'

'Enough!' Grauber cut him short. 'It is useless to try to fog the issue by giving me a list of names a yard long. I want those of the people who know you to be an Englishman.'

'There are none; for the simple reason that I am not one.'

At that moment there came an interruption. The Sergeant poked his head round the door and announced the arrival of the car sent to collect Grauber. Two of his aides-de-camp had come in it, tall pink cheeked young Gestapo men; as the Sergeant stood aside they entered the room, clicked their heels and saluted.

Grauber gave them a nod and waved a hand towards Gregory. 'Heershaft, we are in luck this evening. Allow me to present to you Mr. Gregory Sallust, the most skilful and dangerous of all British operatives. He has personally killed several of our colleagues and been responsible for the death of many

more. It was to him that I owe the loss of my eye, and in due course I mean to pluck out both of his with my own hands. However, at the…'

Simulating intense anger, Gregory suddenly burst out, 'This is fantastic! Not a word of it is true! My name is Etienne Tavenier, and I am a retired Major of the French Army. I have documents to prove it.'

'Documents!' sneered Grauber. 'Do you take me for a child? Of course you would have come provided with documents, but not one of them will be worth the paper it is written on.'

Gregory knew only too well that, as soon as Cochefert was sufficiently recovered to be brought in on the matter, to continue the pretence that he was Tavenier would be completely futile. Moreover, as it was from the Vadaszkürt that his false passport had reached Lieutenant Puttony, and the Arizona was in the same district it seemed highly probable that the Lieutenant was attached to this station. Should he come on the scene that would equally blow the Tavenier story. But Gregory had no other means of repudiating Grauber's charges; so the only course open to him was to stick to his guns in front of the Hungarian Police Captain, in the desperate hope that some chance to escape might offer if only he could gain a little time. In a further effort to maintain his bluff, he shouted at Grauber:

'My documents are in perfect order! They have been checked by the police and by that Deuxième Bureau Captain who was about to introduce me to you when you attacked me. If you don't believe me, ask him; or send a telegram to Vichy. They know all about me there.'

The Hungarian, obviously impressed, nodded. 'Yes. After all, it is quite possible that you are mistaken, Herr Gruppenführer. This man may be whom he says he is.'

'He is an English spy, I tell you!' Grauber's high-pitched voice rose almost to a scream.

'I am nothing of the kind!' Gregory yelled back with all the excitability of an angry and injured Frenchman. 'Telegraph to Vichy about me, and you will be made to eat your words.'

Again the Hungarian nodded. 'Why should we not do that? I will hold the prisoner until morning, and by then we should have a reply.'

White with fury, Grauber banged his clenched fist on the table. 'I need no telegram from Vichy. I know this man as well as I know my own face in a mirror. And the enquiry I am engaged upon is urgent. As soon as it gets out that he has been arrested the men he has been conspiring with will take fright. They will go into hiding, or try to leave the country. That is why I have got to have the truth out of him here and now.'

'Since he maintains that he is not the man you think him, I don't see how you can.'

Grauber gave a short, sniggering laugh, and turned to leer at his two S.S. men. 'We'll get it all right, won't we boys?'

They both grinned, and the taller said, 'Leave it to us, Herr Gruppenführer.'

Turning back to the Hungarian, Grauber said abruptly, 'Take us down to a cell and provide us with a piece of cord. We'll string him up by his thumbs to start with and see if that will make him open his mouth.'

The Hungarian hesitated a moment, then he said, I am anxious to oblige the Herr Gruppenführer, but I don't think I could do that.'

'And why not, if you please?' Grauber asked him in a suddenly silky voice.

'For one thing, his identity is still uncertain.'

'You said that you are anxious to oblige me. You can do so by taking my word about that.'

I have already stretched a point in allowing you to question him about a matter that has no connexion with the charge on which I am holding him.'

'Teufel Nochmal! Grauber exploded. 'Is Hungary Germany's ally, or is she not?'

'Herr Gruppenführer, the fact that our two countries are allied has no bearing on police procedure.'

'It has, Herr Hauptmann. Our Governments, our fighting services, our police and yours are all pledged to aid each other by every means in their power. I now formally request your help in the carrying out of my duties.'

Gregory was listening to the discussion with bated breath. He now had little enough to pin his hopes upon in any case, but the outcome of this swift exchange of words meant for him the difference between a few hours' respite and being put to torture within the next few minutes. The palms of his hands were damp with apprehension as he watched the Hungarian's face. It was a strong face, but he feared every moment to see it weaken under the pressure that it was certain Grauber would bring to bear.

To the German's request he replied. 'I have no wish to withhold my cooperation; but the procedure of the two police forces differ, and to do as you suggest would be contrary to our regulations here.'

I suppose you mean that, when a prisoner refuses to talk, you are too squeamish to make him?' Grauber sneered. 'Let us put it that in Hungary we do not approve of torture.' 'Do you presume to criticize German methods?' I criticize nothing. I only obey the orders of my superiors.' Grauber was seething with rage. His thin sandy eyebrows drew down in a scowl and his single eye gleamed with malice, as he said, 'Listen, my little Captain. My rank is far superior to yours and should you continue to oppose my wish I am quite powerful enough to insist on your own chief disciplining you. Now! No more nonsense. Send for a piece of cord and lead us to a cell.'

To Gregory's intense relief the threat had the contrary effect to that he had feared. The Hungarian's chunky face went white but his blue eyes suddenly blazed with anger. Thrusting his chin forward, he snapped, 'This is not Germany! You can't yet ride roughshod over everybody here! Say what you damn well like! I'm not afraid to be judged by my own people for having refused to let you turn my Station into a torture chamber. Now! Get out of here, and be quick about it.'

Beneath his breath Gregory murmured, 'Well done! Well done! May the gods reward you for your courage.' But a moment later he realized that he was not even temporarily free of Grauber yet. The Gruppenführer had not climbed to his eminence as a Gestapo Chief by bullying alone; he had an extraordinarily flexible mind, and much subtle cunning. Quite quietly he turned to his two aides and said:

'Heershaft, I have often told you that you can learn much from the errors of your superiors. It is of great importance to us that I should get the truth out of this man Sallust without delay; but as I am placed at the moment I have not a free hand to do so. In my eagerness, I blundered. Observe, please, this Hungarian officer carefully. Look at his broad forehead, his frank expression and his well developed jaw. These are the indications of an honest man, a humanitarian and one who has the courage to stick to his convictions. I should have taken stock of those myself, and realized that I could gain nothing by threatening him. We consider that our harsher methods of obtaining information swiftly are justified by the emergencies of war. But in this the Hungarians differ from us. By refusing to allow us to use our methods of persuasion in his Station, he was only carrying out his standing orders. For that we must admire him. Tomorrow, instead of a complaint, I shall now put in to his superiors a testimonial to his commendable adherence to his duties. To do otherwise would be dishonourable and tend to weaken, instead of strengthen, our ties with our Hungarian allies.'

After pausing for a moment, Grauber turned to the Hungarian and went on. 'But the Herr Hauptmann will appreciate that delay in examining this man may prove fatal to the success of my mission here. Therefore I cannot doubt that he will agree to a solution which will both enable me to do my duty, and save him from any feeling that he has failed in his. I should have thought of it before. It is so simple. I will sign a receipt for the prisoner and an undertaking that he shall be returned here tomorrow morning in time to face before a magistrate the charge of which he is accused. There can be no objection to that?'

Again Gregory's heart was in his mouth. The time was still only about ten o'clock. If Grauber were allowed to take him away and wreak his will on him for the next eight or ten hours, all the odds were that he would be returned to the Station a gibbering idiot. Little beads of sweat broke out on his forehead as he kept his eyes riveted on the Captain's face. But a moment later he could breathe again. The Hungarian shook his head:

'Thanks for the kind remarks, Herr Gruppenführer; but I can't do that. There is still this question of identity to be settled. And, anyhow, I couldn't hand a prisoner over to anyone without a formal authorization.'

Stymied again, Grauber's small, pale eye darted swiftly from side to side. Gregory knew his mentality so well that he felt sure he could read the thoughts which were now flickering through that unscrupulous brain. He was assessing the chances of a snatch.

Many a time Gestapo agents had raided homes and hotels on foreign soil, dragged their victim from his bed, slugged him unconscious, carried him down to a car, and smuggled him back into Germany. In this case, counting out the victim, there were three of them to the one Hungarian. Going through the outer office they would have to deal with the Sergeant and the policeman on the door; but they had a car waiting outside. The element of surprise and the use of brute force without scruple might well enable them to pull off a kidnapping and break out.

Gregory moistened his dry lips with his tongue. His thoughts were moving as swiftly as Grauber's. They might take the Captain by surprise, but not the object of the snatch. He was neither in bed, nor asleep. If they thought they were going to carry him out like a sack of potatoes, they had better think again. He already had his eye on a wooden chair. At his enemy's first move he meant to snatch it up and charge him with it legs foremost. Tough as the pouchy German was, he must go down under such an assault. The two brawny thugs might then get the better of the battle in the room, but by the time they had there was a fair hope that the shindy would have brought half a dozen Hungarian policemen running to the outer office, and that the last word would remain with them.

Perhaps Grauber realized that too. Perhaps, even, he baulked at the idea of knocking out a Hungarian Police Captain, and forcibly abducting a prisoner from his Station. That was very different from kidnapping some unsuspecting person, and might cause quite a lot of tiresome correspondence between the Chancellories of Berlin and Budapest. After staring for a long moment at the Captain he switched his glance to Gregory, and said:

'Very well, I will leave you for the night in the custody of the Herr Hauptmann. But don't imagine you are going to get away with the story that you are a Frenchman. There are plenty of people in Germany who know you as Gregory Sallust, and if necessary I'll have witnesses flown in to support my identification of you.

'Anyway, when you are brought into court tomorrow morning, I mean to accuse you of the murder of Obersturmbann Führer Fritz Einholtz, and others, and to apply for a warrant for your extradition. When you have been handed over to me we'll talk again. First you'll tell me all about this conspiracy; then I'll take you back to Germany. In six months' time you will still be alive, but for five months and twenty-nine days you will have been wishing that you were dead.'

A Night of Surprises

Chapter 13

Even when Grauber and his two henchmen stamped angrily from the room Gregory could not be certain that the wily Gruppenführer would not suddenly turn on his heel and return to try some new trick for getting possession of him. But the sound of trampling feet across the outer office faded, and after a last minute of dreadful suspense he felt that temporarily, although only temporarily, by sticking to his bluff, he had got the better of his enemy. Turning to the Hungarian, he said in the heavily accented and faulty German that he had used since being brought into the Station:

'Captain, I cannot be sufficiently grateful to you for your protection from those thugs. It is appalling to think that in their own country they have the power to torture anyone they choose merely on suspicion. How good it is to find that here in Hungary you still maintain the same traditions of justice which we have for so long cherished in France.'

The Captain made a grimace. 'These Germans are beasts, but the Russians would be worse; so we must put up with them. Fortunately they are not our masters; so even if it were certain that you were an English spy I would not have allowed them to torture you. But make no mistake about it, if they can prove you to be the man they think, and demand your extradition for crimes committed in Germany, we shall have to hand you over to them.'

'God forbid that should happen! But it may.'

'Do you mean that you are, as they say, a British agent?' the Captain asked with a frown.

Gregory hated to have to deceive him, but in doing so lay his only chance to take advantage of the short respite that he had been granted. Throwing out his hands in a typically French gesture, he exclaimed:

'No! No! Do not think that, I beg. I meant only that I may have difficulty in persuading your magistrates that I am Commandant Tavenier. You have been more than a friend; so I will be frank with you. When I suggested that a telegram of enquiry about me should be sent to Vichy I was seeking only to gain time to save myself from being tortured there and then. If one were sent it would do me no good. It would confirm that I am Tavenier but declare me to be an enemy. The truth is that I am a de Gaullist. I served with the Free French Forces in England, and landed with the British when they made their raid on St. Nazaire. I was wounded and left for dead. De Gaullist sympathizers hid me until I recovered, but I am listed by Vichy as a traitor. That is why I made my way secretly to Switzerland and then to Hungary. You see, I dare not appeal to the French Government; and how, otherwise, can I prove that I am Tavenier? The thought that I may fail to prove my identity fills me with terror; but it means that the Germans' word will be taken that I am this man Sallust.'

The Captain nodded. 'I see. In that case your situation is certainly a most dangerous one.'

'If these accursed Germans once get hold of me they will tear me into little bits.'

'I fear you are right.'

'Yet I am innocent. My only crime is that I believed, like many thousands of my countrymen, that, for the honour of France, all of us who were able to do so should fight on.'

I appreciate that. It is tragic for you that a resemblance to another person should have landed you in this appalling mess.'

Having won the Hungarian's sympathy, Gregory felt that the time had now come to play a card that might just prove a trump. After a moment he asked, 'What exactly is the charge against me?'

'With having created a disturbance in a public place and inflicted bodily harm upon the Gruppenführer and a Captain Cochefert who was with him.'

'But it was the Gruppenführer who assaulted me.'

'That is a matter in dispute. It will be decided on the evidence of the washroom attendant when the case comes up before a magistrate in the morning.'

'As I understand it, then, the Gruppenführer has been charged too, and will have to appear in the dock with me?'

'Yes; and Captain Cochefert also, if after treatment in hospital the doctors consider him well enough to do so.'

'Why, then, should you have released the Gruppenführer and detained me?'

The Hungarian shrugged. 'Your circumstances are very different. He is a high official in the police force of an allied country. His word that he will appear when summoned is sufficient. You, on the other hand, are both a foreigner and a temporary resident here. If you were allowed to go free you might take the first train in the morning out of Budapest.'

'True, but the charge is only a civil one; surely your regulations enable you to release me against security for' my appearance?'

'Yes; normally I could do so.'

Gregory tried to still the beating of his heart as his hopes rose. 'Then why should you not? Fortunately I have a considerable amount of money on me in fact a very large sum, as I was too late to pay it into the bank today. I will willingly deposit the bulk of it with you as a recognizance.'

The Hungarian's face broke into a smile. 'You mean that, having made provision in advance against a probable fine, you would not turn up?'

'The sum would cover a fine and there would be a very handsome balance which could go to your police orphanage,' Gregory smiled back, in good hope now that his scheme for bribing the Captain to let him go was about to come off.

But the Hungarian shook his head. 'No. It can't be done. Ordinarily there would have been no difficulty about what you suggest; but you seem to have forgotten that the Germans believe you to be a spy.'

'That is the whole point,' Gregory countered. 'If I had nothing to fear from appearing in court tomorrow, I'd be a fool to offer several thousand pengoes to save myself a night in a cell; but my life may depend on my becoming a free man again tonight.'

'I realize that; but I cannot help it.'

On seeing his one chance slipping Gregory began to plead desperately. 'But you can! You can! I am not charged with spying. You have only to go by the letter of the law and treat me as though I were an ordinary stranger in Budapest who had created a row in a nightclub. If it hadn't been for the Gruppenführer you wouldn't hold me. To do so is to associate yourself with his frightful error and, perhaps, bring about my death.'

'Not necessarily. You still have a way out.'

'Way out? If you've thought of one for God's sake tell me of it.'

'To come clean with the magistrate, as you have done with me.'

'But if I admit to having fought as one of the Free French I shall be counted an enemy and interned.'

'Well, that is not much to worry about compared to being carried off by the Gestapo.'

'That may be my fate just the same, unless I appeal to Vichy to substantiate my identity.'

'Then you must do so.'

'Admittedly that would knock the bottom out of the Germans' case, but Vichy in their turn would at once apply for my extradition.'

'Why should they bother. If you were interned here you could do them no further harm.'

Gregory had been aware of this weakness in the wholly academic argument he was putting up; but, short of saying that he was wanted for murder by the Vichy police which it could be assumed would at once alienate the Hungarian's sympathy from him he could see no way of making it appear that should he call on Vichy he would be jumping out of the frying pan into the fire. All he could do was to adopt a middle course, and say:

'As I have already told you, I am listed by Vichy as a traitor. You may be sure they would not be content to leave me here; and if I am sent back, God knows what will become of me. Some of these Petainists are as bad as the Germans, and they delight in the chance to revenge themselves on officers who have shown them up to be cowards.'

'All the same, they won't torture you, as the Germans would.'

'No, but they might shoot me.'

'I see no reason why they should; unless you have done something to deserve it.'

'You do not know these Vichy traitors as I do. They stick at nothing to curry favour with the Germans.'

The Hungarian shook his head sadly. 'It is an evil day for any country when such things can happen in it. But it looks as if you must take your chance with Vichy as the only way of keeping out of the clutches of the Gruppenführer.'

'Either way the most terrible ordeals await me,' Gregory replied with great earnestness. 'Yet you have it in your power to save me from them. You alone can play the part of a good angel. God would reward you for it. One word from you the signing of a paper…'

'No!' The Captain held up his hand to check the flow of pleading. 'It is useless for you to go on. I'm sorry for you, but I have to think of myself. I've a wife and two youngsters. I'd be only too willing to let you go if you could produce any concrete proof that you were not this English spy, Sallust. But as things are, I daren't risk it. I've already earned the animosity of that Gruppenführer, and he is too powerful a bird to be just laughed off. If I fail to produce you in court tomorrow he will create hell with my own Chiefs, and what possible excuse could I give. I'd be out of a job, or, at the very least, suffer a reduction in rank.'

"Gregory saw now that his endeavours had been in vain. He could only nod gloomily, as the Captain went on: 'We've spent quite enough time in talking, and I have work to do. Come along now, and we'll put you in a cell for the night.'

As they left the waiting room, Gregory caught sight of himself in a small mirror. Up till that moment he had been so desperately concerned with trying to save himself that he had paid little regard to his physical condition and none to his appearance. Now he saw that the hair oil from the half full bottle that Cochefert had broken over his head had wrought havoc with his collar, shirt and jacket, and he became newly conscious of its oily stickiness; so he asked if he might wash.

His request was granted. He was taken to a washroom where he succeeded in getting most of the surplus oil out of his hair and off his face and neck, but about his clothes nothing could be done short of sending them to a cleaners.

He was then taken to a cell and locked in. Only a dim blue pilot light was burning in it; but that was sufficient to show him that it was clean and reasonably comfortable. It contained an iron bed with three coarse blankets, a chamber pot, a chair and a small table. On the table there had considerately been placed a mug of steaming coffee. Having sipped it he found it to be ersatz stuff, probably made from acorns, but he was none the less grateful and, sitting down on the bed, he slowly drank it while reviewing his situation.

Whichever way he looked at it he could see no ray of comfort. From a modern police station of this kind there could be no escape, and there was no reason at all to suppose that a chance to do so would occur when the routine drill was followed next morning of taking him from it in a black Maria to the court.

Once there, he would not have a leg to stand on. He hoped that the injury he had inflicted on Cochefert was proving extremely painful, but it could not have rendered him inarticulate. If the Frenchman had not already made a statement to the police, he would certainly do so next day. His statement would include irrefutable proof that Gregory was not Tavenier, and also disclose that he had passed himself off as Lt.Colonel Einholtz of the S.D. If anything could add to Grauber's vindictive rage it would be that he had posed as this favourite disciple in frightfulness of whose services he had deprived the Gestapo for good and all.

The outcome must be that by afternoon he would be in a train under heavy guard on his way to Germany, to await the Gruppenführer s grim pleasure. It seemed that only one eventuality might prevent this namely Grauber's failure to appear in court. Yet there was not the least reason to suppose that he would fail to do so.

There had been other occasions when Gregory had fallen into Grauber's clutches and been equally despondent about ever getting out of them. He had done so because, although the Gruppenführer was brave enough in other ways, he was terrified of high explosives. Once an air raid alarm had scared him into abandoning his prisoner, and another time, when they were both in a submarine, depth charges had panicked him into abandoning ship prematurely. But Budapest was hundreds of miles outside the range of Allied aircraft, and there was not the remotest possibility that bombs, shells, showers of grenades or any other form of big bang was likely to keep Grauber cowering in a cellar next morning.

Taking off his still sticky jacket, collar and tie, and shoes, Gregory spread out the blankets and lay down on the bed. As the bottle of hair oil had struck him neither on the temple nor the base of the skull, but a little to one side of the top of his head, it had caused him no serious injury. His head still ached but now only slightly, and not sufficiently to prevent his continuing to think coherently without undue effort, although there was no longer any desperate necessity for him to do so.

He began to wonder about Sabine, and if she had learned that he had fallen foul of a Gestapo man, or knew only that he had been run in for participating in a brawl. In any case, his arrest was tough luck on her, because his efforts, during their long day together, to restrain her from wrecking his mission had succeeded only through their appeal to her emotions. There had been setbacks from time to time, but by evening she was clearly thinking of him again as a lover whose presence filled her with ardent desire; and when they had been together for those few minutes in her bedroom, she had made it plain that she was longing for the night of passion that she then believed lay before her.

She was going to be bitterly disappointed and so, for that matter, was he; although the loss of a night's pleasure to her was a microscopic infliction compared with what he had to expect from the cause of their enforced separation. With Grauber's threats in the forefront of his mind he was too much of a realist to take any comfort from the thought that the Gruppenführer had preserved his moral rectitude by forcing him to remain faithful to Erika. She, he knew, would have preferred that he should sleep with a dozen other women rather than that he should pass one night at the mercy of Grauber.

For some time he thought of her with that deep, abiding warmth of affection which is the essence of real love. Then his thoughts turned again to Sabine. He hoped that she was not going to become involved in his disaster, and thought it unlikely that she would be. It was not as though they had been carrying on a long intrigue, as it was barely twenty-four hours since they had recognized one another at the Piccadilly. Her association with Ribbentrop would protect her from any prolonged cross-questioning about him; and if the worst came to the worst she could always explain having spent the day with him by saying that she had known all the time that he was an Englishman, and had decided to do a little counterespionage work herself by trying to get out of him what he was up to in Budapest.

About Count Laszlo, Colonel Janos and the others he felt there was much more cause for worry. Fortunately, his reply to Grauber about the people he had met while in Budapest had been only a slight exaggeration of the truth. In the past fortnight he had made many new acquaintances; so investigation of his activities would pinpoint the conspirators. Since the formation of the Committee he had, too, constantly impressed on its members the necessity for secrecy, and they had taken serious notice of his warnings. But there remained the danger to them from that first conference at the Nobles Club to which Count Zapolya had indiscreetly invited such a large number of his friends. It must have been through either someone who had been present at that meeting, or one of the Club servants, that Grauber had got wind of the affair, and if the former then that person, having witnessed the election of the Committee, might also give away the names of its’ members.

As there was no way in which Gregory could send them a warning, he could only hope that when Count Laszlo called at Sabine's as arranged, at nine o'clock next morning, on hearing of his arrest he would take fright, then swiftly warn the others, so that they could all go into hiding until the danger was past. But that they would do so on the bare information that he had been pulled in on account of a row in a nightclub seemed unlikely, and by the time they learned more of the matter it might be too late.

Gregory was still speculating on the point when he heard a jingle of keys out in the corridor, the door of his cell was unlocked, and the warder signed to him to get up.

With an inward groan he obeyed. After Grauber's departure he had thought himself safe at least until after he had been taken before a magistrate, but only about an hour had elapsed since he had been brought to the station. There could be only one reason for rousing him up while the night was still young. Grauber must have gone straight to some higher authority and had now returned with an authorization to collect him. He might have known that his old enemy was not the man tamely to accept defeat, or let the grass grow under his feet in rectifying a temporary setback. At the thought of what he might now have to suffer before morning, Gregory's hands grew damp his mouth dry, and as he followed the warder down the corridor his feet seemed as though made of lead.

To his utter astonishment and boundless relief, as he stepped through the door of the waiting room he saw that beside the Police Captain stood, not Grauber, but Sabine.

The chunky faced Captain looked from him to her and asked, 'Baroness, do you definitely identify this man as Commandant Etienne Tavenier?'

'I do,' she replied with a smile at Gregory.

The Captain smiled at him too, and said, 'My friend, your luck is in after all. This lady with whom you went to the Arizona has taken steps to secure your release. Please sign this declaration that nothing has been taken from you while in custody, and you are free to go.'

Almost in a daze, Gregory signed the paper, thanked the Captain, and followed Sabine out to the main office. A policeman politely opened the front door of the station for them and they stepped from the bright light into semidarkness, nearly colliding with another officer who was about to enter. He stood aside then turned to stare after them for a moment before going in. Sabine's Mercedes was standing at the curb in the narrow street, and as Gregory sank into the seat beside her he let out a great sigh of thankfulness.

Before driving off she lit a cigarette, then turned to him and said, 'You are looking terribly groggy, darling. Did you get badly hurt?'

'No,' he murmured. 'No. I'll be all right in a minute. I was hit over the head with a bottle of hair oil; but I've got a thick enough skull to stand much worse things than that. I was unconscious for only a few minutes, and I've hardly a trace of a headache left. If I look queer it is from the pleasantest shock I've ever had. You can have no idea what you have saved me from. I'll be in your debt till my dying day.'

As she slipped in the clutch and the car moved off, she replied, 'I was right, then, in my surmise that you were arrested as a spy, and not just taken up, as they said at the Arizona, for getting mixed up in some silly fight.'

'Yes and no. I haven't been spying here. I told you the truth about that. And I was only charged with a breach of the peace. But I had the accursed ill luck to run into one of the top boys of the Gestapo who knows me to be an Englishman.

In the morning, when I was taken to court, he meant to charge me with espionage and secure my extradition to Germany.'

'Thank God I got you out then! Tomorrow morning would have been too late, and I wouldn't have been able to.'

I marvel that they let me go tonight. The Captain was a decent chap; he protected me from the Germans and kept an open mind. But he knew they believed me to be an English agent named Sallust; so it really is surprising that he should have released me simply because you said that you knew me as Commandant Tavenier.'

'He didn't; and I don't suppose for a moment that he would have in the ordinary way. He was only verifying that I was satisfied that you were the person referred to in the paper I had brought.'

'What paper?'

Sabine laughed. 'I told you this morning that I could get most things I wanted done for me in any of the Government Departments because, like it or not, they have to play along with the Germans. When I heard you had been run in, as the Ministry of Justice was closed I went to the house of Erdelyi, the Minister. He wasn't too pleased at being dragged from a game of bridge; but I told him what had happened, declared that it was not your fault because, being a foreigner, you had misunderstood some remark that was passed about me, and that I was determined you should not spend a night in jug through acting as my champion; so he must give me an order for your release. As a further inducement to make him play, I added that we were expecting Ribb to join us for supper and he would be terribly annoyed if you weren't there, as it was his last chance to see you before returning to Germany. Of course, I've known old Butyi Erdelyi for years, and there was no reason for him to suspect that there might be more behind your being detained than just a fist fight; so he wrote me out a note to take to the Police Station.'

'Bless you, my dear.' Gregory laid a hand on her knee. 'But I'm afraid you may get into bad trouble for having done this.'

'Why should I? No one can prove that I knew all the time that you were an Englishman. I gave the impression of being just a spoilt young woman who was furious because she had been deprived of the man who was taking her out to dinner, and meant to make trouble in high places if he was not restored to her. There is nothing criminal about that.'

'No; I suppose not. All the same I…" The car had turned out of the Zrinyi Utcza and was heading for the Swing Bridge. Gregory broke off to ask quickly, 'Where are you taking me?'

'Home, of course,' Sabine replied lightly.

'You mustn't!' he exclaimed. 'Please stop here so that I can get out.'

'What! And leave you to go off on your own in that state! Is it likely?'

'All right. But don't cross the river yet. Turn along the Corso and pull up under the trees. If we don't handle this thing carefully we will both land in the soup. We simply must talk things over before you commit yourself any further.'

With evident reluctance, she did as he suggested. Meanwhile his thoughts were running swiftly. 'She has been marvellous. What a fool I was ever to think that she might hand me over to the police. It looks as if she has managed to keep herself in the clear, and for me to involve her now would be the height of ingratitude. I must leave her, and the sooner the better. That Jewish furrier, Leon Levianski, said he would hide me if I was hard pressed. Best thing I can do is to take advantage of his sporting offer, anyhow for the night.'