Dennis Wheatley - Duke de Richleau 07 (62 page)

Soon after De Richleau
woke next morning he remembered that it was Bank Holiday Monday in England, and
he wondered what was happening there. But he was not left to his speculations
long, as a telephone message was brought to him from Count Tisza, saying that
the Count wished to see him as soon as possible.

The Duke received it with
anything but pleasure. He felt certain that it heralded his release. If war
with Britain was imminent he felt that he had no option but to return at once
to England; but he could have wept at the thought that the dreaded time had
really come when he must leave Ilona. He had loved before but never, never, as
he loved this beautiful Princess. If she had imperfections, he could not see
them: her impulsiveness made her human: her childishness in some things made
her so unspoiled: the zest with which she had embarked on love when it had so
belatedly come to her, made her utterly adorable. Nevertheless, he dressed as
quickly as he could and went round to the Minister-President’s palace.

Count Tisza wasted no
time in preambles. He said at once, “I asked you to call, Duke, because I am
overwhelmed with urgent business that requires my presence in Budapest. My
visits there in the past ten days have been of sufficient length only to enable
me barely to fulfil my duties to the Hungarian Parliament, and now I must take
up my residence there for at least a week. The last thing I wish is that you
should be caught here: and the general situation shows no improvement. Most of
my colleagues still feel that Britain will remain outside the conflict. On the
other hand, I understand that she has warned Germany that should the German
Fleet attack the French Channel ports she could not remain indifferent. I wanted
to tell you that, should either country issue an ultimatum to the other during
my absence, you are free to depart.”

De Richleau accepted this
conditional release with a sigh of thankfulness. Had it been, as he had
expected, a complete one, he would have felt constrained to leave Vienna that
day, after seeing Ilona only to say good-bye. As it was, he had been given the
freedom to go without further consulting the Count directly the situation
regarding Britain became acute. But until then he must continue as a prisoner
of his bond, and so could also remain, unstricken by conscience, the willing
captive of Ilona’s kisses.

As the two men shook
hands they had little doubt that they were taking farewell of one another for a
long time to come, if not for ever. Their outlook on life was so similar, and
their minds were so well attuned, that in a few short weeks a bond had been
forged between them of the kind which occasionally unites two people of the
same sex in a friendship that is akin to brother-love. The wish of each, that
good fortune should attend the other, was not mere words but came from their
hearts, and they parted with genuine sadness.

After the Duke had
breakfasted he went to another of Ilona’s committee meetings, and that
afternoon met her again at de Lazalo’s. Again she asked him to dine with her.
He hesitated for only a fraction of a second, but she caught the thought that
had flashed through his brain and checked his immediate acceptance. With a half
hysterical laugh, she said:

“The time has gone when
you need worry about compromising me by dining in my apartments on two nights
running. I am living only for these moments now before I must weep my heart
away. I grudge every second that I am not with you, and I no longer give a damn
what people think or say. Come early, Armand. I shall expect you at a quarter
to eight.”

When he arrived fresh
news of the crisis had just come in. Germany had declared war on France at 6.
45 that evening.

The party was a larger
one than that of the preceding night, as Ilona had invited several people some
days before whom it was too late to put off. But she was brazen now in her
determination to be alone with her lover. Within a quarter of an hour of dinner
being over, she announced that she had matters concerning her charities that
she wished to discuss with him; then dismissed everyone else except Adam and
Sárolta.

Again the four of them
slipped out into the friendly shadows of the palace gardens, but to-night poor
Ilona could not keep back her tears. Now that France had become embroiled all
hopes of a peaceful settlement were at an end. It remained only to see if
England would come to her assistance and, if she did, Ilona knew that she could
not detain her knight a moment longer. De Richleau did his utmost to comfort
her, kissing her tear-stained face again and again, and vowing his eternal love
for her; but when at last her weeping eased she was running a high temperature
and being shaken every few moments by violent bouts of coughing.

Next morning, Tuesday the
4th of August, the headlines in the papers gave the news that the Duke had
expected since the previous evening. German forces had over-run Luxemburg and
were invading Belgium. The Germans were putting the Schlieffen plan into
operation. He had a committee meeting with Ilona at mid-day. Just before he set
out for the palace a special edition appeared. Britain had sent an ultimatum to
Germany, forbidding her to violate the Belgian frontiers and requiring her to
withdraw at once any troops who might have done so. An answer was required by
midnight.

The ultimatum freed him
from his parole, but meant that he must not remain in Vienna until another sun
had set. He had already made his plans, knowing that in such circumstances, if
the time limit were less than twenty-four hours, the western frontier of
Germany would be closed to him before he could get through to Belgium. His
quickest way out now was to go down to Trieste on the Adriatic and cross the
border into Italy. The journey was about two hundred and fifty miles, so if he caught
the 4.15 express he should have ample time to be over the frontier before
midnight. To have taken an earlier train would have deprived him of his last
chance to say farewell to Ilona in private. In anticipation of having to make a
hurried departure he had already had the bulk of his packing done by the valet
three days before. A quarter of an hour would be enough for him to finish it,
and he could do that after lunch. Then he would only have to collect it on his
way to the station after having said good-bye to Ilona at the studio.

He told the desk clerk
that he would be vacating his rooms for good that afternoon, asked him to have
his bill made up and, as for the past week all trains leaving Vienna had been
exceptionally crowded, arranged with the head porter to send an under-porter
ahead in good time to get him a seat on the 4.15 train for Trieste. Then he
wrote a brief note, which he took with him, and set off for the palace.

At the meeting he slipped
the note to Ilona. It simply said, “Be brave, my sweet. Our joyous hour is run.
I shall go early to the studio this afternoon, and pray that you can do so too.”

When she had read it,
under cover of a batch of papers that was on the table in front of her, she
looked at him and gave an almost imperceptible nod. Then she displayed a fine
courage by briskly returning to the business in hand, and conducting it as
though her only care in the world was that adequate provision should be made
for the aged mothers of soldiers, whose
sons
were their
only
support
and had been
called
up for the war. But she could not conceal the red rims round her blue eyes, her
hectic flush or the cough that harassed her, and as he watched her De Richleau’s
heart was wrung as though it were in a mangle.

Immediately after the
meeting he returned to Sacher’s. A clerk met him in the hall-way and requested
him to step into the office for a moment. His thoughts were still of Ilona’s
tragic face but, rousing himself, he assumed that Frau Sacher had learned that
he was leaving and wished to say good-bye to him. He had meant to ask her to
give him coffee after lunch, so that he could make his farewells to this old
and treasured friend in as pleasant circumstances as possible; but he felt that
to join her in an apéritif would serve as well, so he let the clerk usher him
through the door behind the desk.

Suddenly he found himself
confronted by Major Ronge and two uniformed policemen. He made a quick step
back, but the fat, dark-moustached Major pulled an automatic from his pocket
and said quietly, “Don’t move!”

The Duke covered his
consternation by an icy stare, and demanded, “What do you want of me?”

The Chief of the K.S.
Bureau bowed slightly. “I am here to take you into custody as an enemy alien.”

“You can’t do that,” snapped
De Richleau. “I am a British subject, and Britain is not at war with
Austria-Hungary.”

A smile flickered into
Ronge’s sly eyes. “We have heard from several quarters that you are British,
but have no proof of that. I am glad that you admit it. We shall be at war with
Britain by midnight. I am merely anticipating matters by a few hours.”

De Richleau was furious
at having given himself away, although he was quick to realize that in any case
he could not have concealed his nationality for long. Angrily he protested: “By
midnight I can be over the frontier, and you have no conceivable right to
detain me.”

“In that you are wrong,
Herr Graf.
I have powers to question all
suspects; and there is nothing to prevent me from prolonging my questioning
until to-morrow morning if I wish. But why should we quibble about
technicalities? I intend to take you in, and that is the end of the matter.”

“Count Tisza assumed
personal responsibility for me!” De Richleau replied quickly. “He knows
everything there is to know about me, and has given me permission to leave.”

The fat man shrugged. “His
Excellency the Minister-President is now in Budapest. He is of so honest a
disposition that he sometimes allows himself to be hoodwinked by clever people.
I thought his interference in a matter about which we are so much better
informed than he, was both ill-advised and regrettable. But he is absent from
Vienna and a very busy man, so we will trouble him about it no more. Please to
come quietly.”

To put up a fight against
three armed men would have been madness, and the Duke was at his wits’ end how
to get out of this trap that had so unexpectedly been sprung upon him. The last
thing he wished to do was to involve Ilona, but she was now his only hope. The
question of whether he could retain his liberty of action for the next few
hours or not meant the difference between getting home safely and the
possibility of incarceration for many months. In desperation he said:

“I am a Colonel in the
Archduchess Ilona Theresa’s regiment of Hussars. I have just come from a
meeting with her at the Schönbrunn Palace. I insist that you telephone to Her
Imperial Highness, or her equerry, Captain Count Adam Grünne, and inform one of
them of your intention.”

As the Major only shook
his head in silent refusal, De Richleau made a forlorn attempt to scare him, by
saying sharply:

“You’ll rue it if you don’t!
Her Imperial Highness would never allow one of her officers to be arrested in
this arbitrary manner. If you persist without informing her you will lose your
job when she gets to hear of it.”

Major Ronge sighed a
little wearily. “Believe me, I have often been threatened with losing my job,
but somehow nobody ever dismisses me. Do you know why,
Herr Graf?
It is because I am always right in
matters where secret agents are concerned. I will admit that you are a most
unusual one. I take off my hat to you for having imposed upon Her Imperial
Highness, the Minister-President, and many other illustrious people. But that
will not help you now, as I do not intend to inform any of them that I have
arrested you. For me it is quite sufficient that I know you to be a free-lance
secret agent. That you happen also to be of noble birth, as I have discovered
to be a fact since our last meeting, is curious; but it makes not the least
difference. What you were up to in Serbia is no concern of mine, except as
evidence of the form of your activities. But since you have been in Vienna you
must have collected a great deal of information that would be of value to
Austria’s enemies. How I hold you is, to me, a matter of complete indifference.
I would charge you with robbing the poor box in the Stefanskirk if I could find
nothing else that would serve. But these high ones of your acquaintance must be
protected against their own lack of understanding in such affairs. It is I who
am responsible for seeing that our secrets do not leak out. Therefore, it is my
duty to prevent your leaving the country. I hope I have said enough to make the
position clear. Come please,
Herr Graf.
I
am anxious to be done with this business, as I have not yet had my lunch.”

The Duke now saw that
there was nothing that he could do—nothing whatever. So he allowed himself to
be taken off in a cab, driven to a high-walled prison, and locked up.