Come into my Parlour

by Dennis Wheatley

  As Einholtz tied that up he smiled with grim satisfaction. Grauber had wanted him to take two or three other men with him on this job. His chief had thought that von Osterberg might prove too much for him alone, and that once on neutral soil without a full-time guard there was too much risk of the Count escaping. But Einholtz had persuaded him that to have a squad of their thugs kicking their heels about the place, probably for weeks on end, would be certain to give the show away, and had undertaken to be personally responsible for their stool pigeon. It was now proved how right he had been about that, and von Osterberg had made no attempt at a get-away. There was very little chance of his doing so, either, Einholtz felt, as long as he did not allow him to see anyone alone and handcuffed him by the ankle to his bed each night, and whenever he had to go out himself.

  The Count had been pretty difficult at the time of Erika’s visit though. Of course, he had been hoping that she wouldn’t be able to raise the money, or that if she did, she wouldn’t be able to get to Switzerland with it. He had obviously tried that trick about the coffee in the hope of getting his wife on his own, so that he could tip her off. Then he had played his gaoler up badly over the secret weapon, and deliberately tried to head Erika off; instead of acting according to his instructions and, after showing a few scruples for form’s sake, agreeing to think it over.

  It was on this account that Einholtz had decided to come over and see Erika that afternoon. He feared that she might have taken her husband’s blunt refusal to play as final. If that were the case she would probably report to London that there was no hope of getting any information and remain on in Switzerland only to secure her divorce. On no account must that be allowed to happen, as the secret weapon was the special bait designed to draw Gregory into the trap, and he could only be lured to the scene if she reported that together they would have some hope of obtaining it.

  As she saw him coming across the small lawn she thought how much younger he looked with a hat on. It was a round, soft felt, with a small feather in the band, and he lifted it to her straight off his head, revealing the thin plastered swathe of hair across his bald scalp, instead of merely tilting it forward in front of his face as an Englishman would have done.

  She did not like the look of Fritz Einholtz any better than when she had first seen him. Whatever his real social position might be she had a distinct feeling that he was not a nice person; but she felt sure that he had come to talk to her about the secret gas, so she smiled a greeting and motioned to a chair beside her.

  “I hope you don’t mind this little social visit,” he began. “But I know how anxious you must be about your divorce and I thought you would like to know that Kurt has gone into Zurich for the weekend, in the hope of being able to give you the evidence you’ll need.”

  “It was nice of you to come,” she said. “I’m so glad Kurt has made up his mind to go through with this absurd formality. He seemed very reluctant to do so the other night.”

  Einholtz stretched out his long legs and thrust his thumbs into the armholes of his waistcoat with a self-satisfied air.

  “As a matter of fact, he took quite a lot of persuading, but fortunately I have some little influence with him; in the end he usually comes round to my point of view. I’m very happy that in this case I should have been able to help you.”

  “I’m terribly grateful,” Erika smiled. “But I wonder if he’s to be relied on now he is on his own. He is not the sort of man who has ever gone in for picking up girls, and he may funk it at the last moment.”

  “Yes. I’m a bit afraid of that myself. I did think of going in with him to get him going, but the two of us sitting about in the cafés and dance places of a big city would more than double the risk of some Nazi police spy recognising us from our descriptions. Still, if he doesn’t come up to scratch this time, we’ll take a chance on that, and I’ll go in with him some time next week.”

  “I don’t want you to run into danger on my account, but if the risk is not a great one I’d be awfully glad if you would.”

  “It would be a pleasure to be of service to the Frau Gräfin, anu after all, the risk of our actually being captured is not very big,” Einholtz replied; and he smiled as he thought of the unfortunate von Osterberg, who instead of making a round of the brighter spots of Zurich that afternoon was, in fact, securely handcuffed to his bed.

  There was a short silence, then Erika said: “I wonder if you have thought over what I was saying the other night?”

  “You mean about our work? Yes, I have thought of that a lot, and I am sure there is a great deal to be said for your point of view. The thing that worries me most, though, is the thought that if we turned the information that we have over to the English we should have to give them a full scientific analysis of this gas. Unless we did that they could not take adequate precautions against it. But once they had our secret they might manufacture the gas themselves and use it against our German cities, and that would be even more horrible.”

  Erika shook her head. “I’m certain the British would not do that.”

  “Why are you certain? I think they would be very tempted to do so, if they felt that they could bring a victorious end to the war that way.”

  “No. I’m certain they wouldn’t. The war has been in progress for very nearly two years now, and you have only to consider the record of our enemies. We Germans have made a shameless use of the Red Cross to cover military operations; we have sunk both enemy and neutral ships without warning; we have used civilians to screen our troops in battle and we have murdered them by the thousand to create panic and block roads. But the British have done none of these things. After all, we would never do such things either, if it were not for the Nazis. The British know that and they always say on their radio that it is the Nazis and all their beastliness that they are fighting. Anyhow, in spite of all provocation the British have kept their hands clean. Even if some of them would like to take such short cuts to inflicting defeats upon us they never do so, because it is against their policy. Their one hope lies in the sympathy which they have aroused in America for their so-called crusade against brutality and evil. They dare not risk losing that, and the use of any inhuman method of warfare would lose it for them in a week. That is why I am certain that, if they had it, the British would never use your gas.”

  “Your argument is a strong one, Frau Gräfin,” Einholtz nodded. “Yes, I think you are right. The British would not use it except as a reprisal—if Germany used it first.”

  “And perhaps not even then, if they had adequate protection from it. The British are often extraordinarily quixotic.”

  “That too, is true. If then we can set our minds at rest on that point I feel we should consider the matter further. After all, what you said the other night about Kurt wishing to go on with his scientific experiments if we get to South America is so right. But to do so he would need a pretty big sum of money.”

  Erika was quick to see the turn the conversation was taking. “I am so glad you agree with me. Those experiments of his are for the benefit of humanity, not its destruction. In the past I financed him for them pretty lavishly, and I am quite prepared to do so again.”

  “That is very gracious, Frau Gräfin. I will confess that I am very interested in the matter too. You see, I also am a scientist, although I have not the genius or distinction of the Count, your husband. It would mean a great deal to me to be able to continue to help him with his work.”

  As Einholtz made this announcement he feared for a moment that Erika might, from her association with von Osterberg in the past, know something of the Count’s peacetime experiments, and begin to talk of scientific matters to him. Since he had never been in a laboratory in his life, this might have proved extremely tricky ground; so, having made his point, he hurried on:

  “However, to arrange this matter will not be easy.”

  “You think my husband will prove obstinate?” Erika asked.

  “That, I believe I can overcome. It will take a litt
le time but I shall reason with him. I had in mind much more serious difficulties.”

  “Such as—?” Erika prompted him.

  He stared at his flashy amethyst ring for a moment, and said slowly: “As I have told you, the British could not take adequate precautions against this gas unless they had a proper scientific analysis of it. Such things one cannot carry in one’s head, and we have left our notes behind in Germany.”

  Her heart sank. “Then—then if they are essential, that makes it impossible for us to pass on this vital information.”

  “Not necessarily, Frau Gräfin. I do not mean that we left them at the experimental station. On an impulse of the moment we brought them with us as far as Schloss Niederfels; but it had not even occurred to either of us then that we might later consider it proper that we should pass them on. In fact, we were so greatly concerned at the thought of the harm which might be done to the German cause should they fall into the hands of the enemy that we decided that in no circumstances must we expose them to such a risk by taking them out of Germany. In consequence, before we left, we locked them up in the safe of Kurt’s private laboratory at the Castle.”

  “I see,” she said slowly. “That means, then, that somebody would have to go back into Germany to get them?”

  Einholtz nodded his semi-bald head up and down.

  “That is the trouble. Of course it is not far. It could be done in a single night’s journey, and anyone could easily recross the lake from the Villa to Freiherr von Lottingen’s place on the other side with small risk of detection. But it needs a brave man to penetrate even so far into Nazi Germany.”

  Again there was silence for a moment. Einholtz had now completed the baiting of the trap. Without appearing to look at Erika he watched her from beneath half lowered lids with carefully concealed eagerness, as he wondered if she would produce Gregory.

  Knowing the impossibility of doing that, Erika’s thoughts were running on other lines. At length she said: “If you could induce Kurt to agree to our proposal, do you think we could persuade him to go back and collect these notes of his?”

  He made a negative gesture with one of his bony hands. “I hate to say so, but Kurt was as nervous as a cat during the whole of our journey. I am certain that nothing would induce him to risk returning to Nazi-controlled territory.”

  “But you are of a braver spirit,” she said, seizing the chance to use a little flattery. “Would you go?”

  He appeared to hesitate, then replied: “No, I don’t think so.”

  She caught at the latent possibility suggested by his hesitation, and said: “You are a scientist, Herr Einholtz, and no doubt have your own ambitions. If so they would be easier of achievement if you were no longer working under someone else. My money is my own to dispose of as I wish. Kurt will get his thousand pounds for the divorce. That is settled. But I want to prevent this terrible thing happening; not only for the sake of those wretched women and children in the slums of the British cities, but also because I am convinced that by so doing I should have served Germany well in the long run. I will pay to you ten thousand pounds if you will get for me the full analysis of this new poison gas.”

  Again he appeared to hesitate, then he said: “No, I can’t do it. You see, the people on Kurt’s estate are loyal to him. They would not give away a von Osterberg. But I am not a von Osterberg. I should be alone with no one to depend on to give me help or shelter if things went temporarily wrong and I found that I couldn’t get back the same night after all. No, I am sorry, but the thought of Dachau frightens me too much. I will not risk it.”

  He was on tenterhooks now. He felt that he had played his hand well and that, having arrived at an apparent impasse, she might at any moment say that she thought she knew a man who, given proper directions, would undertake this dangerous task. But she did not. Instead, she suddenly looked him squarely in the face and said quietly:

  “I am a von Osterberg. I know the people at Niederfels; the indoor servants, the outdoor servants, and the tenants who live on the estate. They will be loyal to me. But there must be a lot of scientific papers in that safe, and I don’t know sufficient about such matters to be certain of picking out the right ones. If I arrange to give you an order for ten thousand pounds on the Federal Bank of Switzerland, cashable on our return, will you come with me to Schloss Niederfels?”

  The thoughts sped like lightning through his brain. For some reason known only to herself she would not make use of Gregory Sallust in this business. But once she was inside Germany, if there was the least hope of getting her out, Sallust would come in to attempt her rescue. It was a cinch; and with careful handling, a fine chance to put ten thousand good British pounds into his pocket, into the bargain.

  He bowed. “Frau Gräfin, I should be ashamed to refuse any proposal made by so courageous a lady. We will go back together into Germany.”

  Chapter VII

  Midnight Journey

  On his way back to the Villa Offenbach, Fritz Einholtz thought over the result of his visit to Erika with mixed feelings. So far he had failed in the achievement of his object. Not only had Gregory Sallust refrained from accompanying Erika to Switzerland and was, presumably, still ignorant of the situation that was maturing there, but, apparently, she was not even contemplating asking for his help.

  It might be, of course, that they had quarrelled and were no longer in love with each other; or it might be that Sallust had been sent off somewhere on another mission, and so was not available. If the former were the case, Gruppenführer Grauber would have to think up some other way of getting at his enemy; if the latter, then in due course, when Sallust returned from his mission, no better bait than having his girl friend on a string in Germany could be devised to get him in the trap.

  The fact that Erika was clearly anxious to obtain a divorce could not be taken as definite evidence that she wanted to marry Sallust, but in view of their known relationship for the best part of the last two years it certainly pointed that way. In any case, she was an enemy of the Reich and a most dangerous woman, so it would be a good move to put her under lock and key.

  Yet, in order to do so, and still leave the trap open for Sallust to follow her inside, Einholtz knew that he had several knotty problems to solve.

  In the first place, he could not leave von Osterberg behind. If he did, the Count would seize the opportunity to rat on them; and, not only disappear, but quite probably go over to the enemy. That would be absolutely disastrous, since, as well as giving away all that had occurred at the Villa Offenbach, and thus preventing Sallust following Erika into Germany by a route upon which he could be seized at any time it suited them, he might also betray the real secret of the “K” weapons, which was of such vital importance to Germany.

  At the thought, Einholtz shuddered slightly, seeing a swift mental picture of himself, weakened from weeks of torture, and bruised and bleeding, as he was finally clubbed to death in the yard of some concentration camp.

  Yet, if he took von Osterberg back to Germany with him the sole point of Erika going herself would be washed out; since the apparent function of the one, to assure the loyalty of the people at Niederfels, would cancel that of the other.

  Again, the part he had led her to believe that he would play—of securing the right papers—would be redundant if von Osterberg went; and to her it would appear very strange if they both proposed to risk their necks when the job could be done by one of them. For a moment he contemplated sending them in together; von Osterberg ostensibly to get the notes, and Erika, ostensibly, to give him courage. But that would not do either. Within ten minutes of having left the Villa in the launch, von Osterberg would spill the beans and, instead of proceeding to the German shore, they would turn the boat and head for another Swiss village, to land and disappear together.

  Einholtz knew that he could easily secure help. It would be easy enough to get someone else to look after von Osterberg while he accompanied Erika to Schloss Niederfels, but he did not favour that idea.
The appearance of a stranger at the Villa would be difficult to explain when they were supposed to be living there in such secrecy, and Erika might smell a rat.

  The only really satisfactory idea that emerged from his cogitations during his short journey was that he had only to produce his rubber truncheon to make von Osterberg agree to say whatever seemed desirable when Erika paid her next visit to the Villa.

  On Sunday morning he shackled the Count to his bed again and went into Zurich. There was a small hotel there actually run by the Gestapo, which often proved useful to them for accommodating their agents when they were in difficulties with the Swiss police. In consequence, it was a very simple matter for Einholtz to secure from the Gestapo man who ran it a forged hotel bill, purporting to show that the Herr Graf von Osterberg had stayed there with a woman for the weekend, passing her off as his Gräfin. If it later proved necessary to produce a suitable girl, that could easily be arranged; but Einholtz did not think it would, as he reckoned that Erika would be in the net long before her solicitors got down to checking up the evidence with which he proposed to provide her. But he took the name and description of the young woman it was proposed to use, if that proved essential, and duly primed von Osterberg with the information that night.

  Next morning he made the Count telephone Erika, asking her to pay another visit to the Villa that evening. On the Monday night, therefore, she took the same precautions as before, dined at the little hotel in Steinach, and arrived at the Villa soon after nine o’clock.