Come into my Parlour (11 page)

Next morning they drew some Swiss money from the bank at which credits had been arranged for them, and made a few purchases. Erika could not help glancing at herself whenever she encountered a mirror in the shops they entered. She was still very good-looking, but no longer striking, and that was not due alone to the change from blonde to brunette in her hair and make-up, or to the fact that the barber had deliberately dressed her hair in a new style less becoming to her. At length she came to the conclusion that it was mainly the clever alteration in the shape of her eyebrows; and, although she felt a natural resentment at no longer looking her best, she had at least the consolation of being reasonably certain that the only people who had known her well in the past were likely to recognise her if they now ran into her in the street.

After lunch they caught a train for St. Gall and, during the afternoon,
enjoyed the splendid scenery of the Swiss mountains. On arriving at their destination they went to another modest hotel—the Pension Julich. Piers also had a forged Swedish passport and registered there as Olaf Hjelm, their story being that he was her brother. She found that he could talk German with considerable fluency, so now that they were in the Germanic cantons of Switzerland they spoke German together in order to make themselves less conspicuous.

Having looked at a map before leaving London, they knew Steinach to be a village towards the east end of Lake Constance, and only about fifteen miles from St. Gall. After breakfast on the Tuesday, therefore, Piers left Erika to sit in a quiet part of the hotel garden and went off to see what he could find out.

The previous evening she had given him a very full description of her husband and he had repeated it to himself several times. “Forty-four years of age, height about five foot eleven, medium build with rather narrow shoulders, a thin face, brown hair greying at the temples, high forehead, brown eyes, straight nose, thin-lipped mouth, pointed chin, clean shaven, well-cared-for hands with square fingertips and small feet.”

With such abundant data to go on Piers felt that he could not possibly mistake his man, even if the Count had grown a moustache and beard as a disguise; and when he returned, just after four o'clock, Erika saw from his smiling face before he spoke that he had been successful.

“He's there?” she exclaimed, trying to suppress her excitement.

Piers nodded. “The chalet is quite a little place and several hundred yards from any other houses. It stands right on the lakeside and has only a small fringe of garden separating it from the road. As I drifted up they were both getting their boat out—”

“There's someone with him, then?”

“Yes, a tall, thin fellow with blue eyes, who's gone prematurely bald. I shouldn't think he's much more than thirty, and he wears what hair he has left smoothed sideways across his shiny scalp, in the same way as you may have seen some old-fashioned waiters wear theirs. At a guess I should say he's a servant of a rather superior type, but he's definitely not a gent. On the middle finger of his left hand he was wearing a gaudy amethyst ring. I don't know if he's a German or one of the local German-Swiss. I'm not good enough on accents to have been able to tell that. Anyhow, I got a good look at the two of them before they noticed me and I'm quite certain that the shorter one was your husband. Your description fitted him exactly, and he hadn't even grown a beard.”

“Did you speak to him?'

“No. After I'd been standing at the gate for a minute the Count looked up and saw me. I leant over it and called out, but he didn't come up to find out what I wanted. He dived back into the boathouse as though he wasn't at all keen about being seen, and it was the other fellow who jumped ashore and came round to the gate. I said I was an artist looking for a quiet, inexpensive lodging and asked him if he had a room to let. He turned me down pretty abruptly; just said the place was taken for the summer and that they had no rooms to spare.”

“Thank God,” Erika sighed. “It seems perfectly all right, then?”

“Absolutely, as far as I can judge. The Count is there and the chalet is too small to hold more than the two of them in comfort.”

“Thank you so much, Piers.”

“Not a bit,” he smiled. “I'm delighted to have been able to fit this little reconnaisance in for you before starting on my big job. Will it be all right by you if I leave tomorrow? The aircraft we came in was returning on Thursday, if you remember, and if I don't catch that, there may not be another for a week.”

“Yes, of course it will. I can manage quite well on my own now we've made certain that it's not a trap. I'd better not be seen going there if it can be avoided, though, for Kurt's sake; so I think I'll call on him after dinner tomorrow night.”

Erika was sorry to lose Piers. Not only was he an amusing companion who had shown her a nice degree of attention that tickled her vanity without embarrassing her, but his very presence had saved her from the less welcome attentions that were the penalty of her good looks whenever she travelled, or stayed in an hotel, alone.

However, he had done the job that he had been sent out to do; it was already the 9th of August, and Sir Pellinore wanted him to start on his own work by the end of the week. She had no possible reason for keeping him with her and, even had he been free to remain, she could not have taken him on her visit to Kurt, for her husband's hackles would rise at once were he given the least reason to suppose that she had come there, not simply to arrange about their divorce, but also as the emissary of Germany's enemies.

Having seen Piers off after breakfast, she ordered a car for six-thirty that evening to take her down to Steinach, then spent most of the day reading in the garden. For some little time the night before she had pondered over the best way to avoid anyone knowing about her visit. The Gestapo had eyes and ears in many places and paid all sorts of people to turn in apparently unimportant information. Even with her dyed hair, a description of her might ring a bell in the mind of some Gestapo man who knew her, and a report that she had been to see the recluse at the Villa Offenbach lead them straight to Kurt. Moreover, although she knew nothing about the Swiss divorce laws, she thought it possible that if any officious person gave information that there had been collusion it might quite well prevent the case going through.

Eventually she had decided she would take a car into Steinach, tell the chauffeur to put her down at the local hotel for dinner and pick her up again at eleven o'clock. After she had dined she could then slip out to make her visit, and return without him knowing that she had ever left the hotel.

The matter went according to plan. The August night was clear and warm; the hotel to which her driver took her was a pleasant little place with a vine-covered terrace, on which she dined, overlooking the
lake. As she ate the excellent fresh trout which she had chosen from the menu, dusk fell and the stars came out. After dinner she sat for a little while in a covered loggia at the far end of the terrace, but a young Frenchman's persistent attempts to pick her up gave her an excellent excuse for leaving it, and by nine o'clock she was making her way along the almost deserted street.

The chalet was about a quarter of a mile outside the town but, from Piers' description, she had no difficulty in finding it. The blinds were drawn but the music from a radio echoed out over the lapping waters at the far side of the house. She opened the little wicket gate, stepped up to the porch and rang the bell.

The radio was switched off; there were footsteps in the hall and the door was opened by the tall, prematurely-aged-looking man with whom Piers had spoken.

“I have called to see the gentleman to whom this chalet is let,” said Erika cautiously.

“I'm afraid the Professor is working just now,” replied the man politely but firmly. “But I look after most things for him, so perhaps you could tell me your business?”

“Dr. Fallström is expecting me,” she said. “In fact, I have come all the way from England to see him.”

The man took a step backwards so that in the dim light from the hall he could see her face better, then he smiled slowly and stood aside. “Please to come in. I am sure that the Professor will be happy to receive you.”

The hall was a small square one with a door on either side, and beyond the staircase, one at its far end. Having closed the front door her guide led her to the one at the end, opened it, and followed her inside. The room Erika entered ran the whole width of the back of the house, and it flashed through her mind that the smaller ones at the front were probably the dining-room and kitchen. The chalet had only two storeys, so there would be three, or at the most four, bedrooms upstairs. This was evidently the principal living-room. It was comfortably though unimaginatively furnished, but its dark beams and wide fireplace gave it a pleasant homely air. Kurt was sitting in an armchair with an open book on his knees.

As she entered the room he started violently, then stood up and came over to kiss her hand. He was greyer than when she had seen him last and his face was more lined. She thought he looked ill and worried, but that was no matter for wonder.

“So you got my letter,” he began, then glanced at her dark hair and smiled. “For a moment I hardly recognised you.”

“That was just a precaution,” she smiled back. “I felt that for
both our sakes I ought not to risk—” Breaking off, she turned her head slightly to indicate the other man, who was still standing impassively behind her.

“Oh, forgive me,” von Osterberg said quickly. “You don't know each other, do you? Erika, this is Fritz Einholtz, my laboratory assistant. He felt the same way as I did and we escaped from Germany together, so we have no secrets from each other. Fritz, this is my wife, upon whose coming so much of our hopes depend.”

“I am honoured to meet the
Frau Gräfin.
” The tall man drew himself erect, clicked his heels in the approved German fashion and bowed sharply from the waist, as he kissed the hand that Erika extended to him.

“Let me take your fur, and please to sit down,” he went on quickly, and as he did the honours of the house she felt that he had much more life about him than his master. It was clear, however, that he had no intention of being left out of the marital reunion, since as soon as they had seated themselves he placed his hand on the back of another chair and said: “You permit?”

“This is our only sitting-room,” said von Osterberg hurriedly, “and Fritz is naturally as anxious as I am to learn if you can help us to get to South America, so you won't mind if he remains with us, will you?”

“Of course not,” she agreed, politely; upon which Einholtz sat down, drew up his long legs so that he could rest his elbows on his knees, and regarded them with speculative interest.

“Did you have a good journey?” enquired the Count.

“Quite good, thanks,” Erika replied.

“I—er—feared that you might find some difficulty in getting here, now Switzerland is more or less cut off from England.”

She shook her head. “Normally I would have done, but you were right in your assumption that I still have some good friends over there, and they arranged matters for me.”

“You managed to get the money, then?” Fritz Einholtz put in quickly.

Erika gave him a slightly chilly glance. The war often made friends and bedfellows of masters and men these days, but she felt that was hardly sufficient justification for her husband's laboratory assistant to question her on their private affairs.

Von Osterberg stepped into the breach. “We thought you might have difficulty about that too—at least, I did; but Fritz bet me twenty marks that you would manage to help us somehow.”

“It is here, in a Swiss bank, and I can draw it at any time,” she admitted.

“Thank you,” said her husband, but did not seem to be particularly pleased or excited, and after a moment she went on:

“Still, willing as I am to help you, Kurt, I think we should regard this as a business deal, and get matters more or less fixed up before I actually pay the money over. I take it that, as you wish to get away from Switzerland as soon as possible, your idea is that I should divorce you, so that you won't have to appear in the Swiss courts later?”

The Count nodded. “Yes, I think that would be best.”

“Then you'll have to go through the usual unsavoury business with some girl at an hotel.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” he said, slowly.

“Come now, Kurt,” Einholtz cut in again. “We have talked of this often and agreed that such a step will be necessary, so why show this reluctance to face matters now?”

“Yes, yes, of course!” von Osterberg replied a little testily. “It was only that such a business is naturally repugnant to me.”

“Well, the sooner you do it, the sooner I'll be able to start proceedings and the sooner you'll be able to get away,” said Erika practically.

“All right. Naturally there was no point in providing evidence until we knew that you were agreeable to do your part; but, now you're here, I'll go into Zurich and try to find an accommodating young woman over the weekend.”

“Have you yet found a solicitor here to act for you,
Frau Gräfin?
” Einholtz enquired.

“I haven't actually seen him yet, but before I left London I obtained the address of one.”

“That is good. The preliminaries are now settled then. All you have to do for the moment is to let your husband have the name of the hotel at which you are staying, and when he returns from Zurich he will let you hear from him.”

“I'm at the Pension Julich, in St. Gall. I thought it better to stay at a small place as there was less likelihood of my running into anyone who might recognise me; and I am passing as a Swede, under the name of Madame Largerlöf.”