On waking the following morning between the fine lawn sheets he found it difficult to believe that he was not still dreaming. Twenty-four hours earlier he had been convinced that he had come to Hungary on a wild goose chase; now there seemed a definite possibility that he might succeed in engineering a break between the Hungarians and the Nazis. The half waking thought was made all the more unreal by kaleidoscopic memories of having the previous day walked into a world of luxurious, cultured leisure that he had believed to have become extinct for two years or more all over war torn Europe. Yet his transitory doubts were dissipated by the arrival of a French speaking manservant who brought him a breakfast which could not have been surpassed in pre-war days, and asked him at what temperature he liked his bath.
For the next three days he remained at Nagykata, enjoying to the full a gracious hospitality, and much laughter; but the secret reason for his presence there was kept well in mind by his elderly host. Unostentatiously the Count called several conferences in his own room. Before the first he explained to Gregory that his eldest son, Count Rudolph, was interested only in agricultural problems, so would be of little use in their deliberations; but the Baron Alacy who was also a retired General the Bishop, and the merry eyed hunchback, Count Laszlo, were called in. All three agreed that, short of some unforeseeable circumstance, the combination of the United States, the British Empire and Soviet Russia must in the end defeat Germany and Japan; so that Hungary's best hope
for the future lay in going over to the Allies. But there was a considerable divergence of opinion on the question of the conditions to be stipulated in any secret pact and the timing of this exceedingly dangerous volte-face.
In the meantime, Zapolya had written guardedly to a number of his other relations and most intimate friends, and convened a meeting at the Nobles Club in Budapest for Thursday the 20th.
From the time of Gregory's arrival in Budapest up to the morning of that day, the news had been far from favourable to his mission. Lieutenant General Gott, who he had heard was the most promising of our younger Generals in the Middle East, was reported killed while over Libya in an aircraft. The British had arrested the leaders of Congress on evidence that they were preparing to sell out India to the Japs, which had led to serious rioting in Bombay. Another attempt to relieve besieged Malta had been carried out at heavy cost, the cruiser Manchester and the aircraft carrier Eagle both being sunk as well as many other ships. And, worst of all for the Allied cause as a whole, the German offensive in Russia was meeting with spectacular success. Von Bock was still being held outside Stalingrad, but further south the Germans had penetrated the foothills of the Caucasian mountains and were threatening Krasnodar. The hope that these claims might be exaggerated had been nullified by an admission from the Soviet High Command that they had evacuated Maikop, the oil centre north of the Caucasus, and were destroying many oil wells in the threatened area.
Then, on the morning of the 20th, came the first news of the British and Canadian landings at Dieppe. The German communique stated that, although many thousands of men and considerable numbers of tanks had got ashore on six beaches the preceding day, after nine hours of severe fighting, the invaders had been driven back into the sea with great loss in killed and prisoners.
Having no source but the German to go on, Gregory could only hope that the action had not proved as costly as reported. But he was certain in his own mind that it could have been only a reconnaissance in force, with no intention of trying for a permanent foothold. In any case, despite the victory claimed by the Germans, it strengthened his hand enormously, as it showed that the British had both the will and the ability to make such descents on the Continent; and, that being so, the Germans would not now dare risk withdrawing any considerable part of their forces which were holding the European coastline from Northern Norway to the Pyrenees.
In consequence, he was in excellent heart when, after breakfast, with the Count and the others who were in the plot, he left for the capital, the intention being that all of them should lunch at the Zapolya Palace on the Illona Utcza before the meeting.
Although termed a "Palace", it was actually one of a hundred or more similar mansions that crowned the slopes of Buda and was no larger, than the fine London houses of the British aristocracy; but, unlike them, it was built round a courtyard entered through a big semicircular arch and, from the terrace on its northeast side, had a magnificent view over the river. The Count pressed Gregory to stay there but he was anxious not to compromise Sir Pellinore's old friend more than was absolutely necessary, just in case one of the numerous people who were soon to be told about his mission gave him away; so he tactfully declined the offer and had his bags sent on to the Vadaszkürt.
After lunch they drove to the Nobles Club, or the Casino as it was often termed owing to the heavy gambling to which many of its members were addicted. As they went up the broad staircase Gregory was surprised to see in the place of honour at its top a large portrait in oils of King Edward VII.
Catching his glance Zapolya smiled at him and said:
"When Edward VII was Prince of Wales he came many times to Budapest and, as an honorary member of the Club, he made himself so popular that the Committee decided to have his portrait painted. During the First World War several German nobles who were sent here as liaison officers were also made honorary members, and they objected most strongly to our continuing to display the portrait of the late King of a country with which we were at war. But we told them that wars should not be allowed to interfere with private relationships, that it was our Club, and that if they did not like our way of conducting its affairs they need not come to it. That is still the case, and nothing would induce us to take it down.5
'How I admire that spirit,' Gregory replied. 'It is the greatest tragedy of modern times that wars are no longer fought with chivalry, and that whole populations are made to hate one another. The killing which cannot be avoided entails misery enough without the destruction of personal bonds built up over long years of friendship and respect.'
The Count nodded. That at least is one way in which we Hungarians need feel no shame at the accusation that our country is behind the times. We still do all we can to ameliorate the hardships that war brings to enemy civilians. The professional at our golf club is a case in point… He is, like nearly all of them, a Scotsman; so, when Britain declared war on us, he was arrested and interned. But we decided that to keep him behind barbed wire for months, or perhaps years, through no fault of his own was both harsh on him and stupid as far as we were concerned. So within a week we had him released on parole and back at the Club.'
In a large room on the first floor some twenty men were assembled. Gregory was introduced to each of them in turn as Commandant Tavenier; then they all sat down round a big baize covered gaming table and the meeting began. The Count informed them of his reason for calling them together; Gregory followed with a statement in general terms of the object of his mission, and when he had done a long discussion took place.
It was clear from the beginning that no one present had any love for the Nazis, or for the Germans as a people; but they regarded them as a lesser evil than the Russians, and feared that an Allied victory might lead to Communism's spreading southward into Hungary.
Gregory contended that, if Hungary came over to the Allies, when the war ended she would be preserved from an occupation by Russian forces and her Government be in a strong position to take adequate measures against the spread of Communism. Whereas, should she stand by Germany to the end, her defeat would lead to bankruptcy and social upheavals which must make the triumph of Communism inevitable.
As the latter alternative was exactly what had occurred in 1919, his contention met with general agreement but, as several people were quick to point out, it would not apply if Hitler won, as he would crush Communism once and for all.
The question of which side would win was then argued and opinion upon it was sharply divided. Most of the older men believed that time was
on the side of the Allies and that their almost limitless resources would enable them to overcome
Hitler in the long run; but many of the younger ones were convinced that if he could once put Russia out of the war Britain and America would never be able to break him.
The view of these younger men being that which was held in secret by Gregory himself and, in fact, the very fear which had led to his coming to Budapest, he had all his work cut out to argue convincingly against it; so, as soon as he could, he sidetracked the discussion to what was likely to happen in Hungary should the war end in a German victory.
For him this was a much better wicket, because National Socialism was no friend to any aristocracy. The Hungarian Nazis, who sported the Arrow Cross as their symbol, were mostly disgruntled intellectuals, minor officials of Austrian descent and hot-headed students, and so far the magnates had managed to keep them very much in their place. Whereas in Germany no noble could now hope to hold a position of influence unless he accepted such people as equals by becoming a member of the Parti, the great landowners were ordered about by the Parti Gauleiters and the rich were both heavily taxed and blackmailed into making big special contributions to the Parti funds. With Hitler as undisputed Lord of Europe it could not be long before these Hungarian magnates found themselves either dancing to the tune of the Arrow Cross boys or having to put only one foot wrong to find themselves in a concentration camp.
These purely class interests were reinforced by the intense concern, common to all Hungarians, that Hungary should retain such provinces as she had succeeded in getting back since the Treaty of Trianon, and have the others she had lost restored to her. These 'Lost Provinces' had, under the Treaty, gone to Italy, Rumania, Austria and the newly created sovereign states of Czechoslovakia and Yugoslavia. Hitler, having occupied the last two against opposition, had penalized them by making them disgorge to Hungary much of the territory she had been forced to cede to them in 1920; but the question was, would the United States and Britain allow them to keep these lands that for twenty years had been a part of the newly created countries which had recently become the victims of Hitler. Above all they were concerned to retain their beloved Transylvania and get back Croatia with the old Hungarian port of Fiume on the Adriatic. They had little hope that Hitler would ever coerce Mussolini into giving up the latter, whereas, although the Allies might insist that the two new States should retain their pre-war frontiers, Rumania and Italy had played the part of enemies who could be despoiled in favour of a Hungary which had taken a hand in Hitler's defeat.
Eventually it was agreed that as a long-term policy it would be in Hungary's best interests to go over to the Allies; but soon several voices were raised with fearsome warnings of the brutal treatment that the country might receive at Hitler's hands before help from the Allies could reach her. Gregory spoke of the landings at Dieppe on the previous day and asserted with confidence that others in greater strength would hold the German armour; but again controversy raged on whether such measures would prove successful.
He was bombarded with scores of questions on these various aspects of the problem and could only say that he was in no position to answer for the British Government, but that if the meeting could give him an idea of the terms likely to be acceptable he would return to London and come back in a few weeks' time better qualified to enter into negotiations.
The upshot was the appointment of a Committee to discuss' matters further with him and determine the Heads of Agreement under which a secret pact might be formulated. Count Zapolya was asked to serve but declined on the grounds that he had done his part by bring them together, and that he now wished younger men to formulate the policy upon which the future of their country might depend. However, as the retired General Baron Alacy the Bishop and the hunchback Count Laszlo Zapolya had all participated in the early conversations with Gregory at Nagykata, they were elected. To them were added a youngish Colonel named Janos Orczy, who had lost his left arm early in the war and was now serving in the War Office, and a Count Zsigmond Szegenyhaz who held a post in the Foreign Office.
It was six o'clock before the meeting broke up, and after several drinks in the big salle downstairs Gregory took leave of Count Zapolya and his other new friends with very mixed feelings.
On the one hand he was extraordinarily elated by the thought that, whereas only five days earlier he had been prepared to write off his mission as a total failure, there was now a body of the most influential men in Hungary actually preparing to negotiate on his proposals.
On the other he was horrified and alarmed by their complete disregard for security. It had been bad enough at Nagykata, as he had found that within twenty-four hours the whole house party had become aware of the reason for his presence there; but at least they were an isolated group with only the Austrian tutor whom he hoped was still in the dark as a possible immediate danger. Here, in Budapest, matters were infinitely worse.
When opening the meeting, Count Zapolya had not asked his friends for any pledge of secrecy, or even warned them to refrain from mentioning the matter under discussion to anyone who had not been invited. Then, after the meeting broke up, several groups had dispersed about the Club still debating the subject in tones loud enough for members who had not been present to hear what they were talking about. No doubt the Count took it for granted that the high sense of honour traditional among the Hungarian nobility was guarantee enough of secrecy. But Gregory was well aware that many men, however discreet in other respects, confided everything to their wives, and that quite a number of women had the deplorable habit of treating their hairdressers as father confessors; so, one way or another, there seemed a quite frightening possibility that, before many days had passed, the news that a conspiracy to break with Hitler was brewing would reach the ears of some fanatical pro Nazi.
At the Vadaszkürt a clerk behind the reception desk told him that his old room had been kept for him and that his luggage had been sent up. As he took the key he got the idea the man had given him a rather queer look; but he thought no more of it until he stepped out of the lift on the third floor. The chambermaid who had done his room during his first visit was there sorting out some dirty linen. Stopping her work she bobbed him the usual curtsy and murmured, 'Kuss die hand'; but no smile accompanied the greeting and she stared at him with an unhappy expression in her round blue eyes.
Gregory was liked by servants because he not only always had a pleasant word for them and never showed ill temper, but was tidy by nature and took some pains to save them as much work as possible. Now, it did not occur to him that this plain strong limbed peasant girl might be concerned on his account, but thinking something had upset her he smiled and asked:
'What's the trouble, Tina?'
In her halting German she stuttered out, 'Perhaps, sir, I should not tell. But there are men in your room. The Manager, he bring them up an hour ago. They wait for you. I think they are the police.'
The smile froze on Gregory's lips. His spine stiffened slightly and he had the sensation that his feet had suddenly turned to lead. But his brain raced from thought to thought with the swiftness of a prairie fire.
Could someone who had been at the meeting have inadvertently betrayed him already? No; that was hardly possible quite impossible, in fact, if the police had been waiting in his room for him for the past hour. Could one of the women at Nagykata have blabbed about his talks with Zapolya and the others? That was unlikely as they were still all in the country and would hardly have been so wantonly indiscreet as to give particulars about him and his mission to anyone in a letter or during a telephone conversation. But what of the Austrian tutor? Surely no one in the house party would have been so imbecile as to confide in him? He might have overheard something to rouse his suspicions, though, then deliberately played the part of a snooper and sent the results of his spying to the police.
As Gregory released the breath he had unconsciously been holding, the thought flashed across his mind that the police might wish t
o see him only on a routine matter. But he instantly dismissed it. If they were concerned with some regulation to do with foreign visitors, which he had failed to observe, they would simply have left a message for him to call at the police station, or sent a man round to catch him in the entrance of the hotel as he came in. There would not be two of them and Tina had made it quite clear that there was more than one. And they would not be waiting to confront him without warning in the privacy of his room.
The question now was what course to take. Should he face the music or cut and run for it?
It was certain that the police would be armed and, although he was carrying a small automatic that he had smuggled through the customs, a shooting match at close quarters was not a thing to enter upon lightly. Anyhow, they would be two to one and, even if he succeeded in rendering them both hors de combat, once the sound of shooting had raised a general alarm he would not be able to get out of the hotel without encountering further trouble. Yet if they did know about his secret mission and he entered his room but did not shoot it out with them, in another few minutes he would be walking back along the corridor with his wrists locked into a pair of handcuffs.
Fate, in the form of Tina's warning, had given him an alternative. He need not go on. Instead, he could step back into the lift and make a bolt for it. But what then? How much grace could he expect? The men in his room might wait there for another hour or more without suspecting that he had slipped out of their clutches. But no! The desk clerk would probably have telephoned up to let them know that he had just come in. Anyway, the clerk would telephone when he saw the man they were after going out again. Possibly, even, the clerk would call on the porters to hold him till the police could be fetched down. That would mean a fight in the hall. He could put a couple of shots over their heads to scare them into letting him pass; but they would all shout 'Stop thief!' and start a hue and cry in the street. Even if he got clear away, within a few hours he would have the whole police force of Budapest on the lookout for him. Fortunately in another hour or so it would be dark. But he would have to leave the city that night, or go into hiding with Levianski. The risk of recognition and capture would be much too great for him to go about openly any more. Such a handicap could make it almost impossible to continue with his mission. The Hungarian nobility were not the sort of people who would take kindly to furtive meetings in obscure cafés and for him to be able to make contact with them again at all depended on whether he could keep his freedom for the next half-hour.
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