The Second Seal

by Dennis Wheatley

  Next day a party of officers he had met the night before came to take him hunting, as they termed it, although it was shooting that they really meant. There was no close season and abundant game in the nearby forests. The does they sighted were spared, but they bagged several buck and a number of small wild pig. Then, when his companions dropped him back at his hotel, he had a pleasant surprise. It was as yet only Friday, but Colonel Dimitriyevitch had returned several days earlier than he was expected, and was sitting in the lounge waiting to greet him.

  Chapter X

  The Dark Angel of the Forest

  As they shook hands, de Richleau was suddenly struck by Colonel Dimitriyevitch’s likeness to General von Hötzendorf. The resemblance was only superficial, and the Serbian was considerably the younger of the two but both had a small, wiry figure, brilliant, fanatical eyes, hard, thin mouth, and short hair standing straight up off their foreheads like a thick brush.

  Directly they had ordered drinks, the Colonel said, “I am delighted to see you again, my dear Duke. But tell me, what brings you to Belgrade?”

  De Richleau had long since made up his mind on the policy he must pursue if he was to render any real service to those who had sent him; so he replied:

  “I came here to see you. Is the offer that you made me, when we met some months ago in Sofia, still open?”

  The Colonel’s bright eyes showed quick interest but, instead of giving a direct answer, he put another question. “Did you come here prepared to take it?”

  “I should like to know a little more about the status you could give me before I commit myself.”

  “All right then; dine with me Tonight and we’ll talk matters over As you’ve been out all day, I expect you would like to change your clothes, and I have some papers to sign at my office. I’ll send my car for you at seven o’clock. Better pack a bag. I live some way outside the town, so it would be more convenient for you to stay the night.” With an abrupt gesture Dimitriyevitch gulped down the rest of his drink, stood up, nodded to the Duke, and marched off.

  At seven o’clock to the minute the Colonel’s car arrived, and as de Richleau went down the steps to it, he saw that it was a brand new Rolls Royce with a limousine body. There were as yet probably no more than two hundred motor-cars in Belgrade altogether, and those in which he had been driven about during the past few days had been small Renaults and Peugeots. As there were no family fortunes to be inherited in Serbia, her really rich men could be counted on the fingers of one hand, and no Colonel drawing only the ordinary rate of pay could conceivably afford a millionaire’s toy like this. If evidence were required that Dimitriyevitch was not a megalomaniac, whose boasts of possessing unlimited power in his own country were the product of a diseased imagination, his Rolls was a good start for such a case. Even a Commander-in-Chief could not have run a finer car, and the inference was that it had been paid for out of secret service funds, over the expenditure of which the Colonel enjoyed a control that no one dared question.

  A quarter of an hour later the Rolls had picked up Dimitriyevitch and was running smoothly out of Belgrade. It took them some ten miles into the country, the last four of which were through dense forest, and they pulled up in a clearing before a large châlet. The outside of the building was in no way remarkable, but once inside de Richleau soon saw plenty of further evidence that his host lived in a style more suited to a Field Marshal than a Colonel.

  The main room was over forty feet long, and had something of the atmosphere of a royal shooting lodge. But its walls were not decorated only with the trophies of the chase; between the antlers and animal masks hung a score of fine paintings, many of which the Duke knew at a glance must be by old masters. Across the couches were thrown, not bearskins, but rugs of silver fox, ermine and sable. On the floor there were a dozen Persian rugs woven from silk, with not less than three hundred knots to the square inch; and in front of the great open hearth, on which a wood fire smouldered, a small table was laid for two with gleaming crystal and antique silver.

  One servant in leather breeches, high boots and a white, full-sleeved blouse belted at the waist had taken their coats in the hall. Another, in similar costume, now appeared carrying a tray with champagne cocktails. As de Richleau took one he thought with an inward smile, that the superficial likeness between von Hötzendorf and his host was certainly confined to their physical appearance and a fanatical streak in the mentality of both.

  Dimitriyevitch had already asked him in the car if he had come direct from Constantinople, and de Richleau, much too wily to risk a lie, had said that on leaving Turkey he had gone to London; adding that he always had his clothes made there and had been badly in need of some new ones. It was as well that he had taken that line for, although the Serbian Intelligence Chief gave no indication of knowing about the Duke’s visit, he showed himself remarkably well informed on affairs in England, and now began to discuss the Irish question, which was still creating such bitter feeling there. The British authorities had done their best to keep secret all particulars of the mutiny at the Curragh, but Dimitriyevitch knew the facts and discussed their implications with his guest while they drank their cocktails.

  When dinner was served he turned the conversation to the months that he had spent as the Duke’s prisoner two years earlier, then to a visit he had recently made to Paris; so it was evident that he did not mean to talk about his own country until they were alone. At length, the servant who was waiting on them put decanters of vintage Port and Imperial Tokay on the table, made up the fire, and asked if his master required anything else. The Colonel shook his head and dismissed him with an abrupt good-night. Then, as the door closed behind the man, he said to his guest:

  “Now we can talk. I conduct too much secret business here to take any chance of being spied upon by my own people. The servants all sleep in another châlet, half a mile away, and when dinner is over leave at once. They are forbidden even to approach this place until it is time for them to come in and clear up in the morning.”

  “A wise precaution,” commented the Duke, “if you are still engaged on those matters of which we talked together when we made that grim march through Macedonia.”

  “Naturally, I am.” Dimitriyevitch shrugged. “It is my life work, as I told you then. I have since eliminated all but a few of those men of little vision, who would attempt to thwart me; and through my measures Serbia is every day becoming better fitted to undertake the new ordeals which will lead to her future greatness.”

  “You consider, then, that she has already recovered from the strain imposed upon her by the two Balkan wars?”

  “She has not only recovered, but has benefited immensely from them. Our army is one of the few that has had experience of modern war, and has learned many valuable lessons from the fighting it has seen. Such losses in manpower as we sustained have been more than made up for by the increase in our territories, which now enables us to draw on new sources previously denied us. As to morale—well, Tankosić tells me that you dined last night with the Kargujevatz Regiment, so you will have had some opportunity to judge that for yourself.”

  De Richleau nodded. “A fine lot of fellows! No one could ask for better men to command in battle.”

  “And from what I hear, you were clever enough to give them the impression that you were just the sort of man they would like to command them,” remarked Dimitriyevitch dryly. “We Serbians suffered so long and so much at the hands of the Turks that it is still second nature to us to hate anything even remotely connected with them. The older men would realise, of course, that Turkey means nothing to you, and that had Serbia made you a better offer before the 1912 war started you would have been fighting for us; but the youngsters must have viewed you with very mixed feelings. It was no small triumph to win them over as you did, and I was very pleased to hear about it. I felt fairly confident that you would soon succeed in becoming a popular figure here, but it is good to have had my feelings confirmed so quickly. You see, while nobody could
accuse me of being a lax disciplinarian, in other respects I am not of the school of officers who think that to have wide experience of military affairs and be a martinet is enough. I believe that a commander should also be personally liked, if he is to get the best out of his troops.”

  “I agree. But does that mean you are prepared to make me a definite offer?”

  “Subject to discussing the matter with our C. in C., the Voyvode Radomir Putnik, yes. And it is not often that he rejects my advice in such matters.”

  “What rank would you offer me? And would it be a staff job or a command in the field?”

  “You have a far wider knowledge of international affairs than most of our senior officers, so I feel that you would be very valuable to us at Headquarters, particularly as an adviser where politico-strategical questions are concerned. And I take it you would be content with the rank of Major General—at all events to start with?”

  “I commanded an Army Corps while with the Turks,” de Richleau protested, “so I do not see why I should accept lesser rank than that of a Lieutenant-General. Moreover, I am not fond of fighting wars from offices, and should much prefer a field command.”

  Dimitriyevitch gave a thin smile. “Having seen for myself your ability to handle troops in difficult situations, I should be the last to question it. But you will forgive me if I remind you that your Corps was very far from being at full establishment.”

  “Nevertheless, I was given the rank of a Corps commander.”

  “True!” The Colonel’s smile deepened. “But I think I could give a very good guess why. It was probably at your own suggestion. Anyhow, the idea was to induce us to believe that your force was very nearly twice the size that it was, in fact.”

  It was de Richleau’s turn to smile. “I won’t deny it. I did persuade the Turks to adopt that old ruse-de-guerre, when I learned how comparatively few for their task were the units allotted to me. But that was two years ago. May I suggest that you consider the matter on the grounds that I now regard myself as due for promotion.”

  “Very well, then. It shall be as you wish, and we will give you the rank of Lieutenant-General. However, your wish for a field command is one against which there are certain objections. We have already nominated men in whom we have full confidence to take command of all our first-line army corps on mobilisation, and we should not care to displace any of them. You would have to wait for one of the reserve corps which will be formed much later, and that would mean our losing the best value of your services for some months—or perhaps altogether, if the war proved a short one.”

  “Then I offer you a compromise. I will serve at Headquarters, in accordance with your original suggestion, to begin with; but on condition that should one of your corps commanders become a casualty, or prove unsatisfactory, you will have me appointed to fill the vacancy.”

  “Right! I am agreeable to that. Let us drink to your success in the service of Serbia.”

  De Richleau had no intention of taking service with Serbia permanently, if at all, and had haggled over the opening to be afforded him only because he felt that, as a soldier of fortune selling his brains and sword, it would not have seemed in character had he failed to do so. Dimitriyevitch had refilled the glasses, but before picking up his own he suddenly looked straight at the Duke, and said:

  “Perhaps I should have mentioned it to start with, but I am assuming that you would have no objection to taking an oath of devotion to the cause of Serbia.”

  “An oath of loyalty to the head of the state one is about to serve is customary when entering any army.”

  “Of course! But I had in mind something rather more than that. You will remember my telling you about the Brotherhood which secretly dictates the path that Serbia must follow, and which alone gives me, as its chief, the power to arrange such matters as we have been discussing. No senior officer can now hope for promotion, or to be given any appointment of importance, unless he has sworn allegiance to the Brotherhood of Union or Death; so naturally we should expect you to do so.”

  De Richleau had been well aware that almost inevitably he would be faced with this question. He meant to avoid joining the Black Hand if he possibly could; but, even if he were required to take their oath and had to break it afterwards, he felt that he must not baulk at that if it was the only way to learn their secrets. The idea of committing such a deliberate breach of faith had greatly troubled him at first, as it was entirely contrary to his principles; but after due consideration he had become fully convinced that no personal scruples must be allowed to weigh against the possible saving of the lives and happiness of millions. So he gazed back quite calmly into the Colonel’s brilliant eyes, and said:

  “As I am not a Serbian, do you consider that in my case that is strictly necessary, or, seeing that this Brotherhood is one so deeply bound up with politics, even desirable?”

  “I do. I regard it as imperative.”

  “In that case, I am fully prepared to do as you wish.”

  “Good!” Dimitriyevitch now raised his glass. “To your future victories, General. May you be among those who will carry standards of Serbia to the Adriatic.”

  “Thank you.” De Richleau drank his wine straight off, and inquired as he set down his glass: “Is that, then, to be our first objective?”

  The little Colonel also drained his glass, then put it down more slowly. “Perhaps. We shall have ample time to go into all the possibilities later: but much will depend on the disposition of our enemy when the storm actually breaks. And now that we have disposed of Turkey, I need hardly tell you that Austria is next on our list.”

  “The Dual Monarchy with her sixty million people is a mighty foe for a small country like Serbia to tackle single-handed,” hazarded the Duke.

  “Nonsense!” exclaimed his host. “The whole unwieldy structure is rotten to the core. The Austrian ruling caste is effete, and their army has not won a major victory in generations. Its officers are soft; the older ones caring only for their home comforts and steady promotion, the younger ones only for music and women. The troops, left almost to their own devices, are lethargic and ill-trained. In addition, a high proportion of them are Czechs, Rumanians, Serbs, Croats and Italians, who feel no loyalty towards Vienna, so lack all inducements to fight with any stubbornness.”

  “There is much in what you say. Yet, however low you rate their fighting power, you cannot altogether ignore their great numerical superiority. Austria-Hungary could put at least a million and a half men in the field without seriously disturbing her economy, and how many could Serbia muster? Three hundred thousand, or perhaps three hundred and fifty thousand at a pinch.”

  “You are thinking of the last war, my friend. Since then the levies from our new territories have more than made up for our losses. Within three months we could put half a million men into the field; and, let me tell you, they would be well equipped. We have enough 7 mm. Mauser repeating rifles to arm them all, and with its quick-firing guns from the Creusot works our field-artillery will more than equal anything the Austrians now have to show.”

  “No doubt; but you will still be barely a third of their numbers.”

  “Not at all. Austria dare not leave undefended her long Russian frontier, or those with her other potential enemies, Rumania and Italy. At least half her forces will be tied down permanently in case of sudden trouble with them. I doubt if she will be able to bring more than man for man against us; and if she does manage to rake up a few extra divisions that will not save her. Our hardy, patriotic, battle-tested troops will make mincemeat of old Franz Joseph’s overfed, unreliable, parade ground soldiers.”

  As a Corps commander designate, de Richleau did not wish to give the impression that he had any real doubts about Serbia’s chances, so he laughed and said: “Of course you’re right, mon Colonel. I fear I have been leading you on a little by painting the picture far blacker than I know it to be. Austria’s commitments will unquestionably prevent her from sending more than about forty per cent
of her forces against us, and I would back one Serbian fighting-man against three Austrians, any day. Besides, I take it there are good grounds for believing that Russia would take the opportunity of settling her long-outstanding differences with the Dual Monarchy at the same time. Then it would prove a walk-over.”

  Dimitriyevitch’s burning eyes narrowed a little. “She will certainly be tempted to, and, of course, we shall do our utmost to draw her in. It would ensure our own victory being so much quicker and less costly.”

  “That would almost certainly bring Germany to Austria’s assistance.”

  “What of it? Russia and France between them would take care of her, and if France showed signs of failing, England would have to go to her assistance. But we are not counting on Russia. Whether she begins hostilities or not will make no difference to the eventual outcome of our own war against Austria. We are quite capable of forcing her to sue for peace, without outside help. And now that we have grown strong enough to revenge ourselves for the many injuries she has done us, we shall not wait very much longer before settling our account with her.”

  “Perhaps, then,” said the Duke quietly, “it would be as well if you were to let me know the approximate date by which you wish me to place myself formally at your disposal?”

  “I must speak to the Voyvode Putnik about that,” replied the Colonel after a moment. “Are you free to do so at any time?”

  “More or less, but not absolutely,” the Duke hedged cautiously. He then proceeded to tell a glib lie. “You see, I am still officially on the Turkish Army List, or, to put it more exactly, committed to them under my original contract. But it is obvious that they have no further use for me, so I have been granted indefinite leave on half-pay. I’m sure you will agree that I ought to regularise the position by obtaining my formal release from them before donning a new uniform. But that should not take long.”