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Authors: Dennis Wheatley

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‘You must still be feeling very groggy after that fight you got mixed up in. What you need is a hot bath and a nice long sleep; so I won’t keep you up any longer.’ Then she turned to Pipi and added, ‘Please see the
Herr Commandant
up to his room.’

Hardly believing that she could mean it, Gregory thanked her and bowed over her hand. But she confirmed the impression that she really intended him to go to bed by saying, ‘Good night; I hope you will feel quite recovered in the morning. We’ll have lots of time to talk tomorrow.’

Pipi escorted him up to his room and having ascertained that there was nothing else he wanted, left him.

Immediately he was alone he went over to the bedside telephone. To his relief he found that it was connected direct with the exchange and, since all the operators spoke German, he had no difficulty in getting Count Lászlo’s number. As it was only just on eleven o’clock he feared that the Count might be out, but a moment later he came on the line.

Using French and phrases which would obscure his meaning to anyone who might be listening in, Gregory gave a swift résumé of the disaster that had overtaken him that evening, and warned the Count that he should get in touch with their
other friends at once, so that on various pretexts they could all leave Budapest before the threatening investigation got properly under way. He then enquired anxiously about the result of that evening’s Committee meeting.

In equally round-about parlance the Count told him that everything had been settled. The Hungarian magnates were prepared to force their Government to break with Germany on the following conditions:—An Anglo-American undertaking to guarantee Hungary from Russian aggression; allocation to Hungary after the war of the territories already stipulated by the Committee, being the greater part of those of which she had been deprived by the Treaty of Trianon; and that the Anglo-Americans should land a force of not less than fifteen divisions on the Continent, on a date to be agreed, and before the Hungarian Government declared against Hitler.

It was the size of the expeditionary force, which the Hungarians would demand should engage the German forces in the West, that had been in debate, and Gregory felt that fifteen divisions was not unreasonable; so when he put down the receiver he smiled his satisfaction.

Abusing Sabine’s hospitality to get in touch with Count Lászlo on a matter that might lead to Germany’s defeat had given him a sharp twinge of conscience. But it had been imperative that he should somehow or other warn the Committee of its danger and, if he possibly could, fulfil his duty to his own country by bringing back definite terms upon which the Hungarians would act. To have succeeded in the one and have a good prospect of doing the other took such a load off his mind that he hardly gave Grauber another thought, and became again as full of good spirits as he had been when he had changed to go out some three hours earlier.

Throwing off his soiled clothes, he got into the bath that Pipi had already prepared for him. The warm scented water soon relieved from stiffness those of his muscles he had strained during the struggle, just as the telephone conversation with Count Lászlo had relieved his mind of all immediate worries.

He lay there for quite a long time, acutely conscious that, but for God, the Hungarian Police Captain, Sabine and his lucky stars, he might by now be suffering agonies with Grauber glaring at him, and rendered thanks for his preservation. Then he got out, dried himself, put out the lights and drew back one of the curtains of the bedroom windows.

The moon had risen over Pest, and it brought sharply back to him what Sabine had said when they were kissing in her bedroom before going out. As he got into bed he marvelled at her restraint. Since she had made her feelings for him so plain, he could only suppose that she thought he needed a full night’s sleep to recover from the ordeal he had been through, and had resigned herself to wait until the brief ‘honeymoon’ she had proposed that they should take when they were over the frontier.

Drowsily he wondered if that ‘honeymoon’ would come off, or if some unforeseen circumstance would arise to prevent it. Now, it almost seemed as if Fate had decreed that, whether he would or not, he should, after all, remain faithful to Erika. He could not make up his mind if he was sorry or not. Then, as thoughts of Sabine lying in bed in the room below him suddenly took possession of his mind, he knew that he was already regretting her having packed him off alone to bed.

It was at that moment that a slight sound made him turn his head. The door had opened and Sabine was closing it behind her. She had on a dressing gown, her face was pale as a magnolia blossom in the moonlight and her dark hair rippled down over her shoulders.

As she came towards him, and he quickly sat up, she said: ‘Why didn’t you come down to me? You know where my room is.’

‘I thought …’ he stammered. ‘You said … You led me to suppose … Damn it! You packed me off to bed as though I was not up to …’

She gave a low laugh. ‘You dear idiot! You told me you were feeling perfectly recovered, but I’ve always thought it only right to preserve the decencies as far as possible in front of the servants. I said good night to you like that simply to keep face with Pipi.’

Untying the belt of her dressing-gown, she let the garment slip from her shoulders. She had nothing on underneath it and for a moment stood there, her full beauty revealed in the moonlight. Then, with another low delighted laugh, she slipped into bed beside him.

Exactly nine and a half minutes later the sound of a musical klaxon horn came up to them through the open window.

‘Holy Mary!’ exclaimed Sabine, wrenching herself from
Gregory’s embrace. That’s Ribb. And he told me positively he didn’t mean to come here tonight. Oh, God! How utterly damnable!’

14
Battle of Wits

Sabine scrambled out of bed and Gregory after her. As he snatched up her dressing-gown from the floor and helped her on with it, he said, ‘If you are so positive that Ribb did not mean to come and spend the night with you, it must be about me that he’s come here.’

‘Do you really think so?’ She was nearly weeping with rage and frustration. ‘It is unlike him to change his mind; but he might have done.’

‘Perhaps; but I’ve a horrid feeling that Grauber has somehow found out that you secured my release, then got on to Ribb and asked him to come and question you.’

‘That … that might be the explanation,’ she sobbed. ‘But oh, God, why couldn’t the fool wait till morning!’

It was no laughing matter, but Gregory could not suppress a smile. ‘We must give him the benefit of not knowing that you would be otherwise engaged. At least, I hope to goodness we can; if not, we’ll both be for the high jump.’

She gave an angry shrug. ‘Oh, my story is watertight enough. You go back to bed. When I’ve given him a drink and heard what he has to say, I’ll get rid of him as soon as I can and come back to you.’

As she hurried towards the door, Gregory said quickly, ‘I daren’t stay here. It’s quite on the cards that Grauber has come with him. If so they may search the house. It would be the end of you if they find me in it. I mean to make the bed, then climb out of the window and down into the street.’

She halted in her tracks. ‘No! No! For heaven’s sake don’t do that! Ribb’s car is down there. If his chauffeur sees you climbing out of the window he’ll think you are a burglar and raise an alarm. I’ve told you Ribb would never let them search but, if you’re really afraid they may, go up to the attics. There
are half-a-dozen places there where they wouldn’t find you if they hunted for hours. Promise me you won’t leave the house. Promise me!’

Gregory was loath to give her his promise, but she was right about Ribbentrop’s chauffeur, and this was no time to argue; so he said, ‘All right; I’ll first make the bed then hide somewhere. Maybe Ribb’s only come … er, on a courtesy call, after all. Anyhow, good luck!’

As she ran from the room he was already starting on the bed. Immediately he had made it he pulled open the doors of a big old-fashioned wardrobe. In it was a strange assortment of the late Baron’s clothes—presumably all that Pipi had been able to find for him. They were mostly dress or fancy garments for which, if given to them, poor people would have had little use, but he found a crested blazer to go with a pair of black velvet trousers. In a chest of drawers there were several silk shirts with a coronet and monogram embroidered on them, and a variety of ties to choose from.

While getting dressed at top speed he cursed himself for having allowed Sabine to persuade him to come back there. The past quarter of an hour had put it beyond all doubt that when doing so she had been largely influenced by the desire, which had been growing in her all day, to spend the night with him. But, to be fair, he had to admit that the arguments she had used were sound ones. If she was right about being able to get away with her story, he was much better off where he was than in Levianski’s apartment with many days of unforeseen dangers in front of him. That he was out of prison at all he owed to her, and he suddenly decided that he was being extremely mean in setting against the risks she was running for him the fact that she had fallen harder than he had expected for his deliberate arousing of the memories that they shared.

The truth was that though he could find no concrete reason for rejecting her plan he had, all along, instinctively distrusted it. In consequence, Ribbentrop’s surprise visit had at once seemed to justify his fears. All the same, they might be quite groundless. After all, Sabine was the Foreign Minister’s mistress. As she was not supposed to be leaving until Wednesday and was motoring back to Berlin, it would be the best part of a week before she arrived there. If he had got through his business with the Regent earlier than he expected, there
was nothing in the least strange about his deciding to sleep with her instead of at the Palace.

By the time Gregory had stowed in his pockets his money, papers and his little automatic—which Pipi had considerately left for him when removing his other things—he was feeling very much more optimistic. Nevertheless, he was not the man to take chances. Having stuffed his soiled clothes into the unlit stove, he swiftly tidied the bathroom and the bedroom so that, short of examining the bed and finding its sheets rumpled, no one would realise that the rooms had recently been occupied.

Stepping softly out into the corridor he closed the door behind him and listened intently. No sound disturbed the silence. Turning up the collar of the blazer, so that its lapels would hide the V of pale shirt, he moved like a ghost towards the staircase. He had already decided not to adopt Sabine’s suggestion that he should hide up in the attics. If any serious searching was done that was the very place they would ransack for him. Instead he meant, if possible, to get down to the ground floor, and he hoped to find there a small room with a window either giving on to the courtyard or the terrace. Then, if the worst came to the worst, although he would have to break his promise to Sabine, he would at least be well-placed to make a bolt for it.

Sitting down on the top step of the stairs, and using his hands as levers, he went from step to step to the bottom swiftly and noiselessly. From beyond the curtain that masked them filtered a faint light. Standing up and peering round it, he saw that the light came from the open door of Sabine’s bedroom. But there was still no sound of movement or voices. He guessed, rightly, that, while he had been hurrying into his clothes, Sabine had spent some minutes there touching up her face before going down to open the gate to Ribbentrop. She would have known that once he had seen the light in her room go on, showing that she was at home, he would not mind waiting for those few minutes while she made herself presentable.

Stepping out into the broad corridor, Gregory now saw that the lights were also on in the hall, throwing into sharp relief the balustrade of the gallery which, with the head of the main staircase, formed the central section of the corridor. On tiptoe he ran towards them, hoping that he might get down the stairs while the hall was still unoccupied.

In that he was thwarted. As he reached the head of the stairs, he heard a door close and the murmur of voices. Pulling up he looked quickly about him. At the ends of the gallery there hung two six-feet wide velvet curtains on semi-circular rails, their purpose being to form a background for the two suits of Turkish armour. With swift cat-like strides he reached the nearest curtain and slipped in front of it, then stationed himself behind the armour. The steel and leather shape of a man hid him from anyone who looked up in that direction from the hall, and if Sabine brought Ribbentrop up to her bedroom the curtain would conceal him while they passed behind his back.

He had hardly taken up his position when Sabine and her midnight visitor emerged from under the stairs into his field of vision. The Foreign Minister was wearing undress uniform: a naval type jacket of dark blue with aiguillettes of gold braid draped on his right shoulder, a long row of medals and four stars of various orders on his left breast. Gregory decided that he really was quite a good-looking fellow and took in with silent satisfaction the fact that he had not brought anyone with him.

That was a good omen, yet the atmosphere seemed slightly strained, for the couple crossed the hall without speaking. Sabine again had on her crimson housecoat, her glossy dark hair framed her pale face with no trace of disorder and, as she calmly lit a cigarette before sitting down in an arm-chair, no one could possibly have supposed that less than ten minutes earlier she had been in bed with a lover.

Ribbentrop walked straight over to the trolley and mixed himself a drink. As he did so Gregory was alarmed to see that on it there still stood two dirty glasses: his own and Sabine’s. That might prove a give-away. But the tall Foreign Minister did not seem to have noticed. Having swallowed half his drink, he said:

‘I’m sorry to have pulled you out of bed on account of such a stupid, affair; but I must know what you have been up to with this man Tavenier.’

BOOK: Traitors' Gate
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