Traitors' Gate (46 page)

Returning to his desk, he pressed a bell on it, then resumed his seat and waved them to two elbow chairs facing him.

‘Please sit down.’ He smiled appreciatively at Sabine, and with a gallant gesture swept up one side of his fine cavalry moustache. ‘So you’re married, eh? Well, your husband’s a mighty lucky feller. At least, he would be if he were here. Slipped by me for the moment that now you are in England you won’t be able to get back to him until the war is over. And I fear that won’t be for a year or two yet.’

With a wicked twinkle in her dark eyes, Sabine returned his smile. ‘I lost my husband two years ago. For a time that made me very sad; but I decided it was just as well when Gregory turned up in Budapest again. As you know, we were in love with one another before the war. When we met again it was as though we had never parted. That was just as well too; as pretending to be married made it much easier for us to get away, and we had a lovely honeymoon on a barge all the way down the Danube.’

She had only just begun to speak when Gregory heard a faint noise behind them. A half-glance over his shoulder showed him that it was the parlourmaid coming in as quietly as a well-trained servant should, carrying the magnum of champagne in an ice bucket. Not having heard her, Sabine was continuing her gay revelation; and, as Gregory could hardly stop her, he could only hope that the woman would not take in the full significance of what she was saying.

Next moment he saw Sir Pellinore’s face suddenly become frozen. For a second he thought that he, too, was concerned
about the maid’s overhearing this wanton admission. The old man coughed loudly in a vain endeavour to drown Sabine’s last sentence, then he half rose to his feet, his face a picture of consternation.

Swinging round, Gregory took in a tableau that made him gasp with dismay. The maid had her back turned. She had just set the heavy ice-bucket down on the table. Owing to its weight she had needed both hands to carry it, so had left the door open behind her. Framed in the doorway stood Erika. Her face showed that she had heard all that Sabine had said.

Erika, white to the lips, remained standing in the doorway, as rigid as if she had suddenly been turned to stone. Gregory, his eyes wide and his mouth a little open, sat staring at her, his mind temporarily paralysed. Sabine looked from one to the other, guessed with a woman’s swift intuition that she had unexpectedly been confronted with a rival, then riveted on Gregory a gaze in which surprise was mingled with anger. Sir Pellinore was the first to recover and he stepped into the breach.

With the bluff jovial manner that had tided over many an awkward situation, he boomed at Erika, ‘Come in, my dear, come in. Done your shopping, eh? Here’s Gregory, just back from Hungary; and the Baroness Tuposo. Daughter of a very old friend of mine. Baroness, allow me to introduce you to the Countess von Osterberg. Erika, we were just about to have a glass of wine. Glad you’re in time to join us.’

In a hard voice that Gregory scarcely recognised, Erika replied, ‘Thank you, but I’d rather not. I … I came up only to let you know that I shall not be in for lunch.’ Then she turned on her heel and walked swiftly away. The parlourmaid, sensing that something was wrong, hurried out in her wake, closing the door behind her.

‘Well, that’s too bad! But a bigger share in the magnum for each of us, eh?’ Sir Pellinore’s determination to ride out the storm never faltered. Striding over to the table, he vented on the big bottle the intense annoyance he was concealing, by seizing it in a strangler’s grip and wrenching out the cork in a single movement. As he poured the wine, Gregory joined him and took the first half-full silver tankard over to Sabine.

When the Baronet had filled his own tankard he lifted it and cried, ‘Bottoms up! Come on, first round straight down the hatch! Just what you both need after your tiring journey!’

Automatically they obeyed him, and swallowing the long draught of fine wine almost immediately relaxed the tension they were feeling. Having refilled their tankards he again sat down at his desk and said, ‘Now then; let’s hear all about your adventures.’

Suppressing all mention of his secret negotiations, Gregory, aided from time to time by Sabine, gave an account of their meeting in Budapest, and all that had followed as a result of his running into Grauber. Lunch was announced when barely a third of the story had been told and they were sitting over coffee and liqueurs by the time it was finished. When they had done, Sir Pellinore looked across at Sabine, and said:

‘Gregory owes his life to you. Not a doubt about that! And as I’m fool enough to be fond of the feller, I’m grateful. Shocking luck your being kicked out, though. No remedy for it, either. Now you’re goin’ to be stuck here in England for the duration have you formed any views yet of what you’d like to do with yourself?’

‘I gathered from Gregory that there was some danger of my being interned,’ she replied with a little grimace.

‘No, no!’ he hastened to assure her. ‘You assisted a British agent to escape from the Nazis. That’s quite sufficient to enable me to save you from any unpleasantness of that kind. But there’s not much social life in Britain these days.’

She thanked him, and went on. ‘Naturally, then, I should like to find some occupation. I am fluent in several languages so perhaps I could get work as a translator. It is only the prospect of the first few weeks that troubles me. I know no one in London but yourself and Gregory and, er …’ she shot a meaning glance at Gregory ‘… he has already told me that his duties will keep him too busy to look after me. I’m afraid that quite
on my own I shall find everything very strange and difficult.’

‘Perish the thought, m’dear!’ exclaimed Sir Pellinore gallantly. ‘To cast you adrift would be no way to show our gratitude. Plenty of rooms in this great barrack of a house of mine. You’re welcome to stay here until you can find a nice little place of your own. No hurry about that either. And don’t worry your pretty head about money. I’ve more than I could spend in a dozen life times.’

Sabine gave a heavy sigh accompanied by a pale smile. ‘Oh, if I might do that! You have no idea what a relief it would be to feel that I need not start life all alone for a while. I shall never be able to repay you.’

‘Nonsense! The debt will still be all on our side. And now, after that frightful journey of yours, you must be dead beat. I’ll get my housekeeper to take you up to the room she got ready for, er … Gregory’s Hungarian friend. Bed’s the place for you, m’dear, and twenty-four hours of it. Have a good sleep this afternoon. Dinner will be sent up to you. Then after you’ve had a good long night we’ll talk again tomorrow. As a refugee you’re entitled to some clothin’ coupons. I’ll have my secretary get them for you in the morning, and in the afternoon we’ll go out together. Long time since I’ve had the fun of taking a pretty woman shoppin’.’

Desperately tired but much comforted by this concern for her well-being, Sabine agreed at once, and when she had been given into the care of the housekeeper the two men went up to the library. As soon as the door was closed Sir Pellinore said grumpily:

‘Fine mess you’ve made of things!’

‘Don’t I know it!’ Gregory muttered, flinging himself into a chair. ‘But how the hell was I to know that Erika would be here?’

‘You might have guessed. Knowin’ you were on your way home I telephoned her yesterday to come down to meet you.’

‘That was good of you; but I wish to God you hadn’t.’

‘And I wish that Hitler was dead in a ditch; but he isn’t.’

‘I wouldn’t have had this happen for worlds.’

‘It’s your own fault. I’d have thought you were old enough to realise the wisdom of bein’ off with the old love before bein’ on with the new. It was downright wicked to spring this thing on poor Erika like that. If only you had tipped me off in
your telegram I would never have brought her down from Gwaine Meads. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.’

‘I am. But I had expected to have a little time in which to fix things decently.

Sir Pellinore shrugged his great shoulders. ‘Well, what’s done’s done. Perhaps to have used the surgeon’s knife may prove kinder to her in the long run.’ His bright blue eyes took on a new ruminative expression and he went on, ‘I must say, though, you’re a wizard with the women. It’s no mean feat to have taken Ribbentrop’s mistress off him. And, by jove, this Toboso girl is something. She’s a stunner.’

Gregory sighed. ‘Yes, as brunettes go I’ve never seen her equal. Still, as far as I’m concerned, she’s all yours if you want her.’

‘Eh! What’s that? If I were your age wild horses wouldn’t hold me. But I don’t want to die yet. If that wench took me on she’d kill me in a fortnight. Seriously, though, d’you mean that you’re not in love with her?’

‘No. For the past month I’ve been suffering from a glorious madness; but that’s all there is to it. And unless I’m much mistaken it’s the same with her. She hardly kicked at all when I told her that if I did bring her to England I’d be able to see very little of her. The only real love in my life has been, and still is, Erika.’

‘God bless my soul! And you’ve cooked your goose with her. She thinks you’ve thrown her over for the Trombolo gel.’

‘I’m afraid so.’ Gregory agreed gloomily. Then he added, ‘As Sabine is going to be your guest you had better get her name right. It’s Tuzolto.’

‘Oh, she must stay here. No question of that; and for as long as she likes. My offer was not made because I believed her to be your new girl-friend, but because she got you out of Grauber’s clutches. And, of course, because I knew her father. But what else can Erika think? Damn it, man, she heard this shameless little hussy gaily admit that you’d been honeymoonin’ together on the Danube.’

‘I know. Erika arriving at that moment was the worst break I’ve had for years. Still, she has never pretended to be a saint herself, and she has a most generous nature. As soon as she gets back I mean to grovel, and …’

Sir Pellinore pulled an envelope from his pocket. ‘She’s not coming back. When we went down to lunch I found she had left this note for me on the table in the hall. Here, you’d better read it.’

Gregory took the single sheet of paper. On it Erika had scrawled in pencil.

I am going straight back to Gwaine Meads. Please have my things sent after me. Tell Gregory that I do not wish to see him. If he follows me I shall leave the house at once for some place where he cannot find me
.

Throwing the paper down, Gregory stood up. ‘Hell and damnation! She can’t do this! She loves me. I’m certain of it; and I love her. Of course I shall go after her.’

‘I wouldn’t, if I were you.’ Sir Pellinore shook his head. ‘Not while she’s in this state. Odds are she’ll carry out her threat if you do. Poor gel’s hit hard. That’s clear. She’ll be all right up at Gwaine Meads; but if you go chasin’ her out of it she might do something rash. Don’t want an inquest, do we?’

‘God forbid! But I can’t just leave things as they are. It would be wanton cruelty to allow her to go on believing for longer than I have to that I no longer love her.’

‘You can say that in a letter. But keep it short. Just that, and that you want to throw yourself on her mercy as soon as she feels up to seein’ you. Throw the ball to her. If she cares for you enough she’ll come round when she’s had a chance to simmer down.’

Gregory nodded. ‘Better still, I’ll send her a telegram. She’ll get it on her arrival; and it may make tonight a little less miserable for her.’

‘Good idea. Now, what about your sloe-eyed Susan. Shockin’ waste of a good thing; but I’m afraid you’ll have to kiss her good-bye if you hope to patch matters up with Erika.’

‘You’re right there. I’d meant to anyway. I’ll go up and break it to her after dinner. I had intended to ask you for a bed, but I’d better not stay in the house while she’s here. I’ll telephone Rudd that I’m back and will be sleeping at Gloucester Road.’

‘That’s sound. You can dine here though. Then, after you’ve had your show-down with that lovely piece of wickedness
upstairs, if there is anything left of you we’ll have a talk about your mission.’

‘I may as well tell you about it now.’

Sir Pellinore held up a big hand. ‘No. You are overdue for a few hours’ sleep. Write out that telegram to Erika. I’ll send it off and telephone Rudd. Your usual room is ready for you. Go straight to bed. I’ll have you called at half-past seven, in time for a bath, then we’ll dine.’

When they met again Gregory was no less worried but, physically, his sleep and a hot bath had done him a lot of good. Over dinner their talk was mainly of the war, ranging in turn over the many far-flung battle fronts on which the Axis and the Allies were at death grips. Then, fortified by two glasses of Cockburn’s 1912, Gregory went up to see Sabine.

He found her sitting up in bed clad in a nightdress of dark red chiffon that she had bought in Istanbul. She still had heavy shadows under her eyes as a result of their flight from Cyprus, but the colour of the chiffon set off her dark beauty to perfection. On his entering the room her expression hardened, and she said abruptly:

‘Well, what have you to say?’

‘Very little for myself,’ he admitted, taking a chair beside her bed.

‘That lovely blonde Countess is your mistress, isn’t she?’

‘Yes. And something more than that. We are engaged to be married as soon as she can get a divorce from her husband.’

‘I seem to remember your telling me that you were not a marrying type.’

‘That was true enough when we first met in 1936; but it seems the leopard can change his spots. Perhaps that’s because I’m older now. Anyhow, for a long time past I’ve wanted to marry Erika von Osterberg, and I still do.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me that last night on the barge that you had someone in England?’

‘I meant to. But, to be honest, I funked it. I was afraid that I would hurt you, and I’d hoped …’

‘To let me down lightly, eh?’ Sabine gave him a cynical smile. ‘That was most considerate of you. And now, I take it, the chicken has come home to roost. How unfortunate for you that, being uninformed of your situation, and knowing dear old Sir Pellinore to be a man of the world, I should have
admitted to our having been lovers. That must have been a horrid shock to the Countess and, I fear, put an abrupt end to your engagement. Or have you made it up with her?’