Dennis Wheatley - Duke de Richleau 07 (56 page)

All too soon Ilona’s
clandestine visit to Grinzing was over. They drove down the hill and
transferred to the Imperial carriage in the Heiligenstadt wood, where Adam had
arranged for it to meet them. It was, too, the last drive that De Richleau was
to take with her, as on the Sunday he was leaving the nursing home to return to
his old quarters at Sacher’s.

On arriving there,
however, he found a note from Adam, giving de Lazalo’s address and the pleasing
information that Sárolta had arranged with the painter for Ilona to sit for him
the first time on Tuesday.

De Richleau set off in
good time for the new rendezvous and, having paid off his cab, took up a
position on the opposite side of the street, from which unobserved he could
watch Ilona drive up. As soon as her carriage had set her down, he crossed the
road, so that as it drove off he was able to hobble up to the door of the house
just after it had closed behind her, and give the servant who admitted him the
impression that he was a member of the Archduchess’ suite who had been shut out
by mistake.

The house was a
comfortable modern one with a big studio at the back, which had lofty windows
in its north wall and a door that led on to a small paved garden to its west.
Some time passed in looking at the painter’s work and discussing how Ilona
should be posed, so he made only a few preliminary sketches of her that
afternoon, then offered them iced coffee in the garden.

After they had been out
there for a few minutes, Ilona said to de Lazalo, “Would you think me very rude
if I take Count Königstein in to have another look at your sketches?” Then she
added with a friendly smile, “He is quite an art critic, you know, but I would
not like to embarrass either of you by asking him to criticize work in front of
its creator.”

The painter was a
polished and charming man; moreover Sárolta had already told him to what he
owed the present commission and sworn him to secrecy; so he returned Ilona’s
smile and only expressed the hope that they would not be too hard on his first
efforts to catch her likeness.

Thus, the lovers were
able to snatch a quarter of an hour alone together. Then, as Ilona was about to
leave, de Lazalo, prompted by Sárolta, tactfully asked De Richleau to stay
behind and give him his opinion of some more of his work, so saving him from
being seen by her coachman and footman leaving the house with her.

The next sitting was on
Thursday, the 23rd, and the Duke was spared the necessity of taking special
measures on his arrival by de Lazalo, who had asked him to lunch beforehand.
When Ilona appeared it was obvious to De Richleau that she was doing a poor
best to suppress great excitement; so he was not at all surprised when, after
twenty minutes, she declared that she had sat long enough for that day. Then,
no sooner had they adjourned to the garden than she made the same excuse as
before to take him inside again.

As soon as they were
alone, he said, “What is it, dearest? Don’t tell me that they are hastening on
your marriage?”

“No, no!” She shook her
head and her eyes were wide. “There is nothing fresh about that. But they’ve
sent the ultimatum.”

“The ultimatum!” he
exclaimed.

“Yes. To Serbia. It is to
be delivered by our Ambassador in Belgrade at six o’clock this evening.”

He stared at her. “But
this is terrible! After—after we all thought that things would be smoothed
over. If they meant to send one, why ever didn’t they do so before? Or is this
the result of some fresh outrage that we have not yet heard about?”

“I gather now that they
always meant to, but have held it up for some reason that is still being kept a
close secret.”

“Do you know anything of
its terms?”

“Only that they are
extremely harsh. Count Aulendorf told me that they were such that no nation
could be expected to accept them. And the Serbians have been given only
forty-eight hours in which to reply.”

“Then this means war.”

“I fear so. The thought
is horrible. Still, those swinish Serbians have asked for it, and we shall soon
give them the hiding they deserve.”

“But, Ilona, there is a
great danger that the war will spread. Should Russia make the least move in
Serbia’s favour, Germany will march against her. The Germans will take no risk
of Russia striking first. And, although you may not know it, the Kaiser has
guaranteed to support Austria to the limit.”

“Well, so he should. He
is a vulgar little man, but the least he can do for his ally is to see that
Russia does not stab us in the back.”

“I don’t contest that
from Austria’s point of view. But don’t you see, darling, that if Russia and
Germany begin hostilities France will come in as Russia’s ally, and England.
Italy too, perhaps, and Rumania, Bulgaria, Turkey, Greece. It will be an
immeasurable catastrophe, with the armies of every nation in Europe spreading death
and desolation in their path.”

A shudder ran through
her. “You paint a terrible picture, Armand; but there can be no drawing back
now. We can only pray that Serbia will agree to our demands, however harsh they
may be; or that your fears of the conflict spreading will not be realized. If
they are, Austria will need every soldier she can raise to fight her battles.
When I made you an honorary Colonel of my regiment I little thought that you
would be called upon to fight. But if you have to go with the rest, I know that
your conduct will make me prouder than ever of you.”

He looked at her aghast;
then seized her hands and cried “My sweet! My sweet! How can you have forgotten
that I am British?”

“British!” she gasped. “But
you were born the heir to both French and Austrian titles. Since you were
expelled from France, how can your nationality be anything now but Austrian?”

“Ilona, my own!” His grip
on her hands tightened while he fought for words. “Our love—our love has been
so different from that of an ordinary couple. We’ve had so little time
together—never enough to do more than say we love one another. Perhaps I never
told you; but I thought you knew. When I was exiled from France I considered
becoming an Austrian officially. But I didn’t. For reasons into which there is
no point in going now, I took out British naturalization papers. So—so you see,
if the worst happens we—we shall be on opposite sides.”

Her eyes grew rounder,
but she did not speak; so after a moment he went on: “For us, I fear this
sending of an ultimatum is the end. You are the last woman in the world who
needs to be told that personal interests must be sacrificed to duty. Mine, if
war comes, is to serve England to the best of my ability. Ilona, to part with
you is to tear my heart from my body. But it has to be. Now that hostilities
against Serbia have actually been threatened, I must at once return to London.”

Pulling her hands from
his, she threw her arms round his neck. “Not yet, Armand! Not yet. What you
tell me is a shock. It’s not that I mind your being British, but that we may
find our countries fighting against one another. For us to be utterly cut off
from each other like that would be terrible.”

“My love, even had I been
Austrian our separation must have come soon.”

“You mean by my marriage?
I know. But at least we should still have been able to get news of one another.
Besides, my engagement has not yet been announced, so it will be several weeks
before they— they pack me off to Bulgaria. I was counting on those weeks to
store up a further treasure of loving memories of you.”

“And I of you, beloved.
But we must now make shift with those we have already.”

“No, no! There is still a
little time for us to snatch others. I beg you not to rob me of it. Why are you
in such a desperate hurry to get back to England? Your duty does not require
that you should leave Vienna yet.”

“By implication it does.
In forty-eight hours Austria and Serbia will be at war. It will take me that
long to get home, and, knowing what I do, it would not be right for me to take
any risk of being stranded abroad with the possibility of a general war
breaking out.”

“But nothing is certain
yet. Serbia may decide to grovel rather than fight.”

“You forget that I have
been in Belgrade recently. I know the temper of the Serbs. Their army believes
yours to be effete. Despite the odds, they will accept the challenge without
hesitation.”

“Even then the war may
not spread: And if it does—if Russia, Germany and France all come in—England
may still keep out.”

“If France is attacked,
Britain will come to her aid. I am certain of it.”

“How can you be?”

He hesitated for a
moment. Distressed beyond measure as he was, at the thought of leaving her, he
felt that he must get home. He was convinced that nothing could now avert war
on the grand scale, and if he were to take his proper part in it, the sooner he
got back to London the better. To remain a few days longer could make their
parting no less painful; yet it seemed unnecessarily brutal to deprive her of
them without any apparent reason. If he gave a truthful answer to her question,
that would provide it.

Looking down into her
eyes,’ he said gravely, “From conversations that I had with several highly
placed men before I left London, I am convinced that Britain will honour her
alliance with France.”

Ilona was not impressed.
She shook her head impatiently. “The awful deed at Sarajevo did not take place
till the end of June—a full two months after we left London. If the
conversations you speak of occurred in April they can have been only the
vaguest speculations, and had no relation whatever to this quarrel between
Austria and Serbia. It is absurd to attach any weight to an unofficial
pronouncement on a situation which could not possibly have been foreseen.”

“The possibility of such
a situation arising was foreseen.”

“What! They knew in
England of the plot to murder my cousin?”

“No! No! But it was
feared that during the summer a breach would occur between Austria and Serbia.
That was the subject of those discussions, and I was informed officially that
in such a case Britain would stand no nonsense from Germany.”

She frowned. “You say you
were informed officially. Why was that? What had such a matter to do with you?”

Too late De Richleau
realized that in his anxiety to convince her of the desperateness of the
situation he had gone much further than he intended. He could only reply, “I am
in the service of the British Government.”

Her face had lost its
colour as she asked: “What do you mean by that? You have never said anything to
me of being connected with the British Embassy here.”

“I am not,” he admitted,
now seeking frantically in his mind for the best course to adopt. He could
refuse to answer further questions from her. But he could not bear to have her
tortured by doubts about himself. It would be better to tell her the whole
truth and trust to her appreciating his motives for what he had done. That
seemed to offer the only chance of preserving her faith in him and not soiling
her memories of her love with miserable uncertainties.

“Listen, Ilona,” he said
firmly. “It is best that I should tell you now that I have deceived you in
certain matters; not deliberately, but through force of circumstances. For
example, I never went to Constantinople, as I told you; but during my absence
from Vienna I was all the time in Belgrade. That apart, in the main, I have not
lied to you about myself, but simply refrained from informing you about the
work to which I was committed before we crossed the Channel together, and the
secret activities that it entailed. I am not a British diplomat, but it would
be fair to say that I have been acting on instructions from the British Foreign
Office. Even before I met you, there was some reason to suppose that Serbia
intended to give Austria provocation for war. I was sent out to inquire into
that and, if I could, suggest measures to prevent it. That was how I learned of
the Black Hand’s plot to assassinate your cousin.”

Slowly she withdrew her
arms from round his neck and let them fall to her sides. “Do you
—
?
Surely you cannot mean that you are a spy?”

“That is an unpleasant
word, Ilona. Use it if you must, but at least remember my motive and who
—
”

Her face suddenly became
distorted by horror. Drawing back from him, she cried: “What does it matter
why, or on whom, you spied? You! A man of gentle birth! A nobleman! Oh, how
could you demean yourself by undertaking such vile work?”