Wallace Intervenes (6 page)

They lunched at the Dunapalata, afterwards going for a long drive by the banks of the Danube. On their return they swam together in the pool of the Gallert Hotel, later taking tea on one of the terraces. It was exactly six when they entered the Hungaria Hotel. They were hardly inside the lounge when a man rose from a chair made his way towards them. He was tall, military-looking, his grey lounge suit fitted him to perfection, but he gave the impression that he was more used to uniform than to civilian clothes. Handsome up to a point, Foster thought his lips a little too thin, his light blue eyes set rather too close together. His moustache and hair were blonde, the latter trimmed very close to his head. As he stopped two or three yards away, clicked his heels together, and gave the jerky little bow typical of the Prussian, Sophie seemed to become aware of him for the first time. She gave a little cry of genuine-sounding pleasure.

‘Major Wilhelm! This is a delightful surprise. What are you doing in Hungary?’

‘I am the bearer of a letter for you, Baroness,’ he informed her.

‘A letter! From His Excellency, do you mean?’

‘Yes, Baroness.’

‘That is nice. But why could he not send it by post? Is it very important?’

‘Extremely important. I was told to deliver it into your hands without the slightest delay. I arrived this morning, and have awaited your return very anxiously ever since. No one seemed to know where you had gone, though your companions expected you back to lunch.’

‘We decided to have a day out – my friend and I,’ she explained laughingly. ‘I did not know, you see, Major Wilhelm, that I was to receive a visit from you. You are staying at this hotel?’

‘No, Baroness; I have reserved at the Waitzner-Gasse.’

‘Oh! But you will give us the pleasure of your company at dinner?’

‘I shall be delighted.’

‘Good! Now please give me this important letter.’

‘Your pardon, Baroness. If you will do me the honour of inviting me to your private suite, I will there hand it to you. There are certain matters which I am to convey to you by word of mouth, and this crowded lounge is hardly the place for confidences.’

‘How mysterious you are,’ she laughed. ‘Very well; you shall come with me to my drawing room.’

Foster had moved a little aside during this conversation. The unperturbed, gay manner of the baroness had provoked his admiration, knowing, as he did, how much the coming of the courier had upset her. He did not fail to observe that, from time
to time, the latter cast covert glances in his direction, glances that could hardly be described as friendly. Sophie turned to the Englishman, reverting to his language.

‘I must introduce you, my friend,’ she declared. ‘This is Major Ernst Wilhelm, who has come all the way from Berlin to give me a letter. Is it not kind of him.’ The underlying note of sarcasm was quite lost on Wilhelm. He returned the Englishman’s bow stiffly when she presented Foster as, ‘A friend who has helped to make my holiday in England and Hungary very pleasant. I have persuaded him,’ she added, ‘to come with me to Berlin, when I return. Englishmen who have not seen Berlin do not realise what they miss. Is that not so, Major Wilhelm?’

Her eyes shot a challenge at the German officer, who had frowned a little at the announcement that she had invited Foster to accompany her to Berlin.

‘It is only natural,’ returned Wilhelm in excellent English, ‘that the Germans should be proud of the capital of their country.’

‘I have often promised myself a visit,’ proclaimed Foster. ‘The baroness has helped me to make up my mind.’

He wondered why she had taken the trouble to declare that she had persuaded him to agree to make the journey. Could there be any harm in making a plain statement of fact that it was actually he who had insisted on going with her? Would such a declaration have caused trouble, and was she attempting to shield him from that possibility?

‘I can assure you, Mr Foster,’ observed Wilhelm, ‘that you will like Berlin – if you go.’

The significance of the last phrase was not lost on either Sophie or Bernard. The latter, however, laughed lightly.

‘Oh, I have quite made up my mind now,’ he asserted.

Begging him to excuse her, and reminding him that they would meet at dinner, Sophie went up to her suite with Major Wilhelm.

Foster sought his own palatial apartment and, strolling out on to the narrow balcony, surveyed the scene below and in front of him. He felt that he had failed rather badly up to date in the task set him by the Chief of the Secret Service. All his endeavours to persuade the baroness to speak had proved abortive. He was unable to appear too insistent for fear that her suspicions against him should be raised. Yet she had more than once given him to understand that she was anxious to confide in him, but was prevented by a vow of secrecy. She had also declared cryptically that she would ask his assistance to connect a chain of some sort once she had found a link that was missing. It rather seemed that she was playing a double game. For the first time it really occurred to him that she was actually antagonistic to the German regime, though he had already guessed she was not in favour of the bellicose intensions which secret military plans, poison gas, and a wireless ray suggested. Could it be possible that she had obtained the confidence of von Strom for the very purpose of betraying him? Was that why she felt herself in danger? Expecting all the time that her motives would be fathomed she daily feared exposure. It seemed very much like it. If so, Foster was absolutely certain that she was not acting thus for any desire of gain. There was nothing ignoble about Sophie von Reudath; apart from which she was a wealthy woman. What was the oath of which she had spoken? Was it one she had given to the Marshal not to divulge whatever he told her? If so, how could she expect to be relieved of such a vow? He knew very well that she would never voluntarily break it.

He gave vent to an ejaculation of impatience. What was the
use of all this speculating? It did not help in the slightest. He had a duty to perform and, whatever it cost him personally, it had to be done. He would try once again to get Sophie to speak before she left for Berlin. If she would not, and he felt quite certain in his heart that nothing he could say or do would persuade her, he would be compelled to rely upon eavesdropping, searching her house in Berlin, and other unpleasant undertakings. The fact that such attempts would be fraught with considerable danger did not bother him. It bothered him very much, however, that he must be compelled to act in such a manner towards the girl he loved. His gaze wandered vaguely along the Corso; then suddenly he started, returning to the full realisation of mundane affairs with a little exclamation. At the end of the Hungaria terrace under the shade of a tree a man and a woman, of a different class to the majority of those sitting or strolling not very far from them, stood talking. It was not difficult to recognise even at that distance the stocky figure, hawklike face and flashing teeth of the man Carl. It was easier still to assure himself that the woman was Hanni Rowohlt, Sophie’s maid. She was tall and angular, but was quite good looking, if one overlooked the hardness of her eyes and mouth. Foster had seen as much of Carl as he had of her, for the man was indefatigable in his attentions. Sophie and the Englishman were allowed to make very few excursions without Carl shadowing them. Foster knew this quite well, but Sophie did not. The former was more amused than otherwise at their being trailed in a manner so assiduous. It was all wasted effort, for they had not gone anywhere which could have caused distrust or particular interest. Neither Foster nor Sophie had visited any of the legations; had had, in fact, very little to do with members of the diplomatic corps of their own countries or of any others.

Foster wished he could have been in a position to overhear the conversation going on. It must be of interest, he reflected, for he knew the man and woman seldom met. Once when disengaged he had observed Hanni going out upon what had proved to be an entirely innocent nature. He had once come upon Carl hurrying along the broad avenue called the Jósef Korút. The man had not seen him, and Foster had promptly taken on the role of shadower, only to find that Carl was bent on having a night out. It was then very late – Sophie had gone to bed – and Foster had had the doubtful pleasure of watching the German spy go from one drinking house to another until he eventually staggered home to his lodgings in a state of intoxication. He remained where he was interested in this meeting of Hanni and Carl, despite his inability to discover what it was about. Before long he had the satisfaction of observing the tall military figure of Major Ernst Wilhelm making its way along the terrace. The man had not been long with Sophie, he thought, until he glanced at his watch to discover, to his surprise, that he had been on the balcony for well over half an hour. A little heap of cigarette ends at his feet bore testimony to the profundity of his thoughts, since he had no recollection of smoking any of them. Major Wilhelm joined the other two, stood talking earnestly to Hanni for a few minutes, then walked away with Carl, the woman hurrying back to the hotel. Foster watched the two men until they were almost out of sight, after which he re-entered his room, and deeper in thought than ever, proceeded with his dressing.

He found Sophie down before him, sitting alone in a secluded corner of the lounge. She greeted his arrival with a little sigh of relief. He searched her face anxiously, but saw no sign there of any dismay or perturbation. She seemed, in fact, in a happy, contented frame of mind; took care in the selection of a cocktail, as though
that was the only matter of importance that exercised her. When their wants had been supplied, however, and they were entirely alone, she bade him draw his chair closer to hers.

‘It was as I thought, Bernard,’ she told him. ‘His Excellency is anxious that I return to Berlin at once. There are many things, he says, of which he must speak to me.’

Foster made a grimace.

‘I am glad you can take it with such calmness, Sophie,’ he declared. ‘I hope that indicates that you have discovered your fears were groundless.’

She shrugged her shoulders.

‘It is of no use to be upset,’ she returned. ‘I confess that I have dreaded very much the necessity of going back since I – since I—’ she paused, and the colour suddenly flooded her cheeks. Gazing at her questioningly, a ray of light suddenly illuminated Foster’s mind. A wondering happy smile suffused his face, and he was about to speak, when she went hastily on, ‘I feel now that perhaps I was foolish to imagine that danger threatened me. The latter is very charming, though the messages sent by the mouth of Ernst Wilhelm are not so nice.’

Foster choked back the words which her hesitation and blush had brought tumbling to his lips instead.

‘What were they?’ he asked. ‘May I know or is it forbidden?’

‘There is no harm in your knowing, my dear friend,’ she replied quietly, and he wondered to find that she was avoiding his eyes. ‘One is that I am expected to be in Berlin without fail by the day after tomorrow; another is that Major Wilhelm is to travel with me and act as my escort; the third—’ she hesitated and for some moments gazed silently down at her satin shoes. ‘The third, Bernard,’ she resumed with a deep sigh, ‘is that His Excellency
does not approve of my association with the young man who is my constant companion, and hopes I will leave him behind when I travel to Berlin.’

Foster was quite unable to speak for some time, but the look of indignation on his face was eloquent of his thoughts.

‘Good Lord!’ he burst out at last. ‘What a confounded cheek! What right has he to dictate to you like this? Sophie, you’re your own mistress, aren’t you?’

‘I am not his,’ she replied vehemently, ‘and he treats me as though I am.’ She was looking up at him now, and he loved the angry way in which her eyes were sparkling. ‘I assure you, Bernard, that after receiving that third message, I would not go back to Berlin were he a hundred times more powerful, if it could be avoided.’

‘Are you so certain it cannot be avoided?’ he asked earnestly.

‘Absolutely, my friend. I must go.’

‘Sophie, tell me: What hold has he on you? You don’t love him or anything like that, do you?’

‘Love him!’ she repeated scornfully. ‘I hate him as I hate the snakes and the vermin. He is loathsome to me, because—’ She stopped suddenly, went on in a quieter voice. ‘I am saying too much, but there is one thing you know now, Bernard. It is that I have a great hatred for Germany’s Supreme Marshal of State.’

‘Then why in the name of all that’s amazing,’ he demanded, ‘does he behave as though you belong to him; as though he has a right to dictate to you, to order your life, choose your friends for you, and – oh! Every other damn thing.’

‘Because he thinks that he has. I tell you, one day I will explain everything to you; then you will understand.’

‘Why not now?’ he pleaded. ‘At least tell me before we leave Budapest.’

She shook her head.

‘I cannot. It is impossible? Oh, my friend, you would not look as exasperated if you knew how great the longing is in me to tell you. You could perhaps be so much assistance. But I cannot tell you – yet. Please try and understand.’

He touched her hand gently.

‘I’m trying very hard, Sophie,’ he assured her. ‘I will be patient and wait.’

‘Thank you,’ was her grateful response to that. ‘It is very kind of you to bear with me like this, for I know how you wish to help me. But just now you said, “before
we
leave Budapest”. Do you still intend to go to Berlin in spite of what the Supreme Marshal has said?’

He laughed.

‘Of course, you can break off your association with me and, as far as you are concerned, leave me behind. Nevertheless, I shall go to Berlin and, if you are ever in need of me, I will be at hand, to help you. You will only have to send for me.’

‘Even if it means defying von Strom?’ she smiled.

‘Even if it means defying him,’ he repeated firmly.

It was not a particularly cheerful meal that evening. Rosemary Meredith and Dora Reinwald hardly spoke at all, Foster only occasionally, then on topics of little or no interest. Conversation was left in consequence mainly to the baroness and Major Wilhelm. Sophie did her part nobly, but even she could not prevent it from being extremely perfunctory. It must have been a great relief to all when dinner was finished and they repaired to the terrace for coffee. It was Foster who suggested that they should make up a party and go to the Dunapalata Roof to dance. Wilhelm declined, pleading fatigue after his journey, greatly to the relief of the others. Foster,
with the consent of the baroness, promptly invited two Bavarians, August Keller and Franz Minck, who had been introduced to them a few days previously, and had become friendly with Rosemary and Dora. The invitation was enthusiastically accepted, and Wilhelm took his leave. Foster politely accompanied him to the taxicab that had been ordered for him.