The Saint and the Hapsburg Necklace (4 page)

But Frankie wasn’t dead—just dead to the
world. As the
Saint closed the door behind him and approached the bed
her eyes
flew open, and she sat up with a gasp.

“The face is familiar,” Simon said
with a smile. “And I
can even put a name to it. How did you get
un-kidnapped,
Frankie?”

He spoke in German, but she replied in
English.

“I am sorry,” she said, and her
voice shook slightly. “I had
to come here. There was nowhere else
to go.”

The Saint walked over to his suitcase,
unlocked it, and took out a hip flask.

“How about a little medicine? Cognac.
Very special 1924
Delamain. Nice and dry.” He poured the pale amber
liquid
into the silver top of the flask and sniffed the aroma appreciatively.
“The best way to drink it is to gargle it first and then
swallow.
Of course, a purist would just taste it and spit it out
on the
floor.” He handed the drink to the girl. “But perhaps
that
would be a bit unladylike. Not to say wasteful. Just try
sipping
it.”

He sat down on the end of the bed and took a swig from
the flask, rolling the brandy sensuously around
his tongue and
swallowing it as
slowly as possible.

“I hate waste, even for the purest
reasons,” he said. “Now
tell me all.”

Frankie sipped her drink, eyeing the Saint
cautiously over
the
top of it. He guessed that she was making up her mind
just how to pitch her story.

“You say there was nowhere else to
go,” he offered help
fully. “Not even Uncle Max’s?”

She looked startled.

“So he told you his name when you
telephoned him?”

“More than that, he invited me out for a
drink. When I
left him about half an hour ago he and Thai were
knocking
back brandies by the half dozen.”

She laughed.

“They both drink too much.”

“You’re avoiding my question,”
Simon insisted. “Why did
you come here instead of going to Max’s
place?”

Still the girl hesitated.

“Come on,” Simon urged her
brightly. “You don’t have to
tell me the truth, not in Vienna! Just
make it interesting. I
like bedtime stories if they keep me
awake.”

She looked slightly baffled. She had kicked
off her shoes
and now she wiggled her stockinged toes and regarded them
earnestly as if the exercise had some important significance.

“Do you know anything about the Imperial
Crown
Jewels?” she asked finally.

“Certainly. They are in the Hofburg
Palace.” He raised one
eyebrow a fraction. “But if they’re not
there now don’t try to
pin it on me.”

She laughed and stretched herself in a more
relaxed fash
ion. The brandy and the Saint’s charm were taking
effect.

“Even though you are not responsible,
the most important
piece is missing. It is called the Hapsburg Necklace and
it
was never in the Hofburg Museum at all.”

“Tell me more. Are you trying to sell
it to me?”

She raised her chin haughtily.

“Certainly not. It is a necklace that
was given to Charles V
of the Holy Roman Empire in 1530 by the ruler
of the
Turks, who were the hereditary enemies of the Austrians. It
was a peace offering but it did
not work, and the war with
the Turks went on
for another century until Prince Eugene
of Savoy finally defeated them in 1718.”

“My,” said the Saint admiringly,
“you’ve certainly got it all
pat. I was never any good at dates in
school, not that sort any
way.”

She ignored his interruption.

“It contains some of the largest cut
diamonds in the world.
It was once literally a king’s ransom.”

The Saint grinned irreverently.

“Then you could probably flog it to
some film star who’s trying to look like the most expensive Christmas tree in
the
world. How much are these baubles worth?”

“Aber nat
ü
rlich,
it is priceless! Actually, the Necklace is
in
sured for over three million of your pounds, but that is not
anything
like the real value.”

“In other words, quite a tidy sum. Why
isn’t it with the
other Crown Jewels?”

“In the days of the Emperors it was always kept separate
because it was so valuable. Also it was regarded as a sort of
lucky charm. It had a special military guard, and
one of the
Court positions was Keeper of the Hapsburg Necklace. It was
an hereditary post, and my father, Count Malffy, was the last
man to hold it.”

The Saint shot her a quizzical look.

“When the new Republican Government took
over the
Crown Jewels in 1918, why did they leave out the
Necklace?”

“They didn’t. They kept on one or two
Imperial institu
tions. Don’t ask me why. One was the famous Spanish
Riding
School, where the Emperor’s white Lippizaner horses still per
form
today.”

Simon nodded.

“I know. I’ve seen them. I never fully
understood the
meaning of dressage until I saw those funny hats. But
what about the Hapsburg Necklace? Is your father still its Keeper,
or did they move him over to
the Zoo?”

The girl frowned. She plainly disapproved of
his flippancy.

“He died soon after the war. I think he
partly starved to death during the dreadful inflation time. I don’t really re
member
him at all except for a vague picture in my mind of a
tall handsome man in
a blue and gold uniform with white
stars at the collar. But perhaps I am imagining even
that.”

“And he was the last Keeper of the Hapsburg Necklace?”

“No. There is still one.”

“Who is it?”

She drew herself up proudly.

“I am.”

The Saint chuckled.

“Good for you. I’ll bet you look wizard
in a blue and gold
uniform with stars in your eyes. Where is the Necklace
now?”

She suddenly seemed withdrawn.

“It’s in our family castle in Hungary,
Schloss Este.”

“So it’s quite safe, then.”

“No, it is not. Not now, anyway. Admiral
Horthy took over
the castle for the Hungarian Government suddenly last
year.
It was supposed to be used as a secret headquarters for their
Intelligence,
I am told, but it is really occupied by the Ger
man army and the
Gestapo. I suspect also that they thought
they would find the
Necklace there. That’s why they seized it
so quickly and
without warning. The German Reich is desperately in need of money. Hitler is
always screaming that Ger
many is being economically strangled. He
really took over
Austria mainly to get our gold reserves, not for any
senti
mental reasons as an Austrian.”

“Do you think they have found the
Necklace?”

She shook her head.

“I’m certain they haven’t. It’s in a
very secret place. Any
way, if they had found it, why should they
try to kidnap me?”

“You think those two men were German
agents?”

“Yes, Gestapo. I am sure of it. I
received an anonymous let
ter yesterday saying that if I would come to
the Hofburg restaurant at nine o’clock in the evening I would hear something
to my
advantage about the Necklace. I felt sure the Necklace
was safe, but I
wanted to find out what was going on.”

Her eyes seemed to flash blue fire, which, as
any chemistry
student knows, is the hottest kind.

“After all, I
am
the Keeper of the
Hapsburg Necklace!
That nasty little man offered me a large sum of money in
cash
to tell him where the Necklace was. When I told him what
he could
do with his dirty money and his dirty self he told me
he was Gestapo and
was arresting me, and he pointed out
that he had a gun in his pocket.”

“And what about the message written on
the banknote?”

She blushed like a schoolgirl. “Oh, that
was just a little idea
of my own. I felt rather silly about it,
“but it did work,
nicht
wahr?
It was a
precautionary measure, especially since for
some days I have
thought I was being followed.”

“But why write the message on money?”

“One is always reading in adventure
stories how people
who are prisoners write notes and drop them out of
windows,
which seems to me most useless, for not one person in a
hundred
picks up and reads pieces of paper they find lying
around in the street. But they always pick
up money. It was a
good idea, yes?”

4

“It certainly worked,” said the
Saint thoughtfully. “Yes, I
think it was a very clever idea.”

The girl looked pleased. But her face fell at his next words.

“On the other hand, you almost didn’t
get away with it,”
he said.

“Why? How is that?”

“Because I nearly gave it back to you.”

“Oh, the great English gentleman doesn’t
like to be
thought the sort of man who might accept a tip.” Her
eyes
were
mischievous. “But you kept it.”

“You were gone before I could give it
back to you. But
speaking of English gentlemen, why are we talking
English?”

“Why not?”

“I mean, why did you think I was English?
When we last
met I
was talking what I pride myself was fluent German.”

“You were.” She gave him an
appraising look. “But I went
back to the restaurant where I’d seen
you sign your bill. I got
the waitress to look up the slip and give me
your name and
room
number. I told her I was your lover. Austrians are so
romantic. She did not hesitate for a minute and told me what
I wanted to know.”

The Saint nodded.

“But why did you come to my room instead
of going
straight
home?”

“Because if I had gone home I might have
found the Ge
stapo
waiting for me. I live in the Malffy Palais with my
mother. Everyone knows where it is.”

“And what about Uncle Max? Why didn’t
you go to
him?”

There was a pause while she eyed him
speculatively.

“Shall I tell you the real reason why I
am here?”

“No, no, don’t be silly. Tell me half a
dozen imaginary
reasons. It’s so much more fun. So much more
gem
ü
tlich.
So
Viennese.”

She laughed.

“All right, Mr Templar, then I won’t
tell you.”

Simon raised his eyebrows.

“So now you have told me. You know who
I am.”

“Yes, I recognised you immediately when
you handed me
my bag. I did have to find out what name you were using
here
and your room
number from the waitress, but I knew who
you
really were.”

“How? When have you ever seen me
before?”

“I’ve been reading about you for years,
in the English
papers which my mother takes. And cutting out the photos
of
you when they printed one. Because they always called you a
modern Robin Hood, and that
fascinated me. I dreamed that
I might run
into you some day—call it a young girl’s
foolishness. But then, when I had this problem, I actually wondered if
I could get you to help me, and I got out the pic
tures again to refresh my memory. But then Max
came along,
and it seemed easier to
take him instead. So when I saw you
in
that restaurant, it was like a miracle or an omen or some
thing. I knew you were watching me and would do
something
if I left my bag.”

“All right,” he said,
“supposing I am the Saint. What can I
do for you now?”