The Second Seal

by Dennis Wheatley

  Count Tisza nodded. “Your reasoning is certainly logical. But should you be right, it is his attempt to save the Archduke that has led to this discovery; and it seems that he has spied on our behalf, not against us.”

  “True, Excellency. But the point is that he is not one of our people; so he is most probably a free-lance. Now that he is in Vienna, he may find out secrets which would be of great value to our enemies. For example, in conversation with highly placed persons such as your Excellency. That is why, immediately I learned from the porter at Sacher’s that he had given this address to a taxi driver, I came here to place him under arrest pending further inquiries.”

  After a moment, Count Tisza said: “I will go into this matter personally. If you and Herr Höller will be good enough to go down into the hall, I will send for you after I have done so.”

  When the two officials had left the room, the Count turned to de Richleau, fixed his steady glance upon him, and asked: “What have you to say about all this?”

  The Duke stood up, smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “My dear Count, I cannot sufficiently apologise for having caused you this inconvenience. They are, of course, completely at fault in supposing that the titles by which I am known are not my own. I could produce fifty people in Vienna who would vouch for that. Many of them knew my father and have known me since I was a boy. As for the rest, even were they not in a position to prove it, my honour would compel me to admit to you that they are right.”

  Count Tisza’s eyes widened. “But, Duke, this sounds incredible. How can a man of your distinction possibly have brought himself to become a professional spy?”

  “Hardly a professional,” de Richleau said mildly. “Had I not been an amateur, I should probably have thought up a story with fewer holes in it when I was asked to make a statement to General von Ostromiecz and several other gentlemen who called on me at the nursing home. But the story is a long one. If you wish to hear it, have I your permission to sit down?”

  “Of course.” The Count motioned to him to resume his seat. Then, for the next forty minutes, de Richleau related how certain people in London had persuaded him to investigate the situation in Belgrade, and, for the first time, told the true story of his adventures there. He ended by saying:

  “So, you see, I was drawn into this business much against my will. But, knowing what I do now, I am fully convinced that I was right to undertake the mission. Had I only had the good fortune to learn the intention of the conspirators a few hours earlier I might have prevented the war. And that having been my sole object throughout, I feel that I am entitled to retain your respect, if not your friendship.”

  With a sigh, Count Tisza said, “My dear Duke, you have both; and my whole-hearted admiration. It is an amazing story, and one of which you may well be proud.”

  De Richleau stood up and offered his hand with a smile. “I thank you, Count; your good opinion means a great deal to me. Now, I will not embarrass you with my presence further; although I make no promise that I will go quietly with these two policemen once I have left your house.”

  The Count waved him back. “Sit down a moment. Let us consider this matter a little further. I don’t doubt your audacity and resource after what you have told me of that desperate affair at Dimitriyevitch’s châlet. But it is unlikely that you could escape without injuring Ronge and his friend, which would be regrettable, as they are only doing their duty. What is more, I doubt if you could get very far before you were recaptured. Our police are fairly efficient; and you must remember that Austria is now in a state of war, so special precautions are being taken at all our frontiers.”

  “I would back myself to get over any frontier.” de Richleau shrugged. “My difficulty is going to be in breaking free before they can get me to a police station. Still, I shall have to attempt it. What charge they intend to bring against me, I’ve no idea: but in time of war all sorts of measures can be invoked as an excuse for locking up a suspected individual, and I’ve no intention of allowing myself to be put behind bars for an unspecified period if I can possibly avoid it.”

  “Yes, I can well understand your anxiety. If they detain you for even a few days, we may be at war with England. Then they will put you in an internment camp as an enemy alien for as long as hostilities last. All the same, I do not think it is a good plan for you to attempt a breakaway.”

  “I see no alternative.”

  “The alternative is simple. As one of the two Minister-Presidents of the Dual Monarchy, after the authority of the Emperor, that of my colleague and myself is the highest in the land. I have only to tell Major Ronge that I will be personally responsible for you and send him about his business.”

  De Richleau had been far more worried than he had shown by the turn events had taken. Although he had spoken lightly of it, he greatly doubted his ability to get away from the police in the middle of the city: and, once in prison, he foresaw great difficulties in getting out again. Smothering a sigh of relief, he said:

  “Such a gesture would be in keeping with your generous nature. I should always remember it with gratitude, and I cannot think you would have mentioned it if you intended to allow me to be arrested.”

  Count Tisza laid a friendly hand on his shoulder. “No, I will not let the police carry you off. On the other hand, I do not think that I should be justified in allowing you to return to England; and you must not take offence at what I am about to say. I have your word that you will not repeat anything I have told you. As a person I am entirely satisfied with that; but as a responsible official it is my duty to take precautions that nothing you have recently learned in Vienna should reach London until the crisis has resolved itself. I must ask you to give me your parole d’honneur not to leave Vienna without my permission; although, of course, I will not withhold it in the event of any definite indication that war between Britain and the Central Powers is about to break out.”

  The request was a reasonable one. If things quietened down the Duke would have lost nothing by remaining, while, if the worst was fated to happen, it would be obvious in a few days and there would still be time for him to get out of Austria before he became liable to arrest as an enemy alien. So, feeling that he had escaped from a most dangerous predicament very lightly, he willingly gave the promise for which he had been asked.

  Major Ronge was summoned and informed by the Minister-President of his decision. He appeared satisfied, and withdrew. The two friends then had a final drink together, after which the Duke walked back to Sacher’s with a very thankful sense of his continued freedom.

  He had intended to call on Ilona at the palace the following morning and break the news to her that, in view of the rising tension, he could delay his departure no longer, so meant to start for England that night. But now, his promise to Count Tisza bound him to remain until Britain either threatened or was threatened with war, and on that the worsening relations between Russia and Austria had no immediate bearing.

  The morning papers of the 30th all carried scare headlines announcing that on the previous day Russia had ordered partial mobilisation, which would bring the armies on her Austrian frontier up to a war footing. But the Czar had deliberately refrained from ordering mobilisation in his territories adjacent to Germany, and the Kaiser had responded to this pacific gesture by doing no more than proclaiming a ‘state of preparation for war’, which committed him to nothing. Meanwhile, Sir Edward Grey and nearly all the Ambassadors in the great capitals were striving desperately to prevent the conflict spreading.

  Although court mourning for Franz Ferdinand was still in force, small private dinner parties were now again being given, and for that evening the Duke had accepted an invitation to dine with the Aulendorfs in their suite at Schönbrunn. As he had known she would be, Ilona was present, and she was attended by her new lady-in-waiting, Fraulein Marie Nopsca, next to whom he was seated at dinner.

  In spite of half-hearted attempts to keep the conversation off the crisis, it crept back to it every few moments, and t
he party proved anything but one. As the Austrians had got just what they wanted, de Richleau was somewhat puzzled at this new atmosphere of depression, and it was not until the ladies had withdrawn that he learned the reason for it. Apparently they were now afraid that the Kaiser meant to let them down. It was true that he had rejected Sir Edward Grey’s plea, that Germany should participate in a Council of the Great Powers to mediate on the Austro-Serbian dispute, with the abrupt reply that he would ‘not consent to having his ally dragged before the bar of nations’; but from Austria’s point of view his attitude towards Russia was far from satisfactory. Not only had he allowed the Russians to mobilise on the Austrian frontier without taking any adequate counter measures; he was known to be exchanging frantic personal telegrams with the Czar, in which both monarchs were begging one another to restrain the war-like ardour of their peoples and refrain from all measures likely to precipitate hostilities.

  Now that Austria-Hungary was actually at war with a small but virile State and likely soon to be attacked by a far more powerful one, everybody had much more important things to think about than the possibility that a young Archduchess was having a love affair with one of the officers of her regiment. So, after dinner, as the party consisted of only eight people, the Duke was able to enjoy a happy hour’s tête-à-tête with his beloved without likelihood of arousing unwelcome ideas in the mind of the Mistress of her Household; and, later, Ilona boldly enlisted the Countess to secure her more frequent meetings with him during these last few precious days which they now feared were all that were left to them.

  Since the previous Saturday all the ladies of the Imperial circle had begun to busy themselves with war charities, so Ilona called her hostess over to the corner of the drawing-room, where she was sitting with de Richleau, and suggested to her that he might be most helpful to them if they asked him to assist them in organising some of their new societies. The Countess thought the idea an excellent one and the Duke naturally assented; so the lovers were able to make appointments which would enable them to attend committees together, ensuring several hours in one another’s company on each of the next few days.

  De Richleau was overjoyed at the success of her strategem as, far from his ardour for her abating, it seemed to increase every time he saw her. He had again thrust the awful idea of their parting into the back of his mind, and was now living in the present, allowing her smiles to go to his head like wine. But, madly as he loved her and fond as he was of his Austrian and Hungarian friends, on the way home he could not help reflecting with cynical amusement that it would serve Berchtold, von Hötzendorf and Co. right if they now found themselves up against Russia as well as Serbia, without German support.

  Friday the 31st proved to be the day of highest tension yet in Vienna. It was expected that at any hour the Russian advance guards would attempt to invade the northern provinces of the Dual Monarchy and the German attitude still remained uncertain. But when de Richleau met Ilona at de Lazalo’s in the afternooon she had just received news that at least held out a possibility of rescuing Austria from her precarious situation. For some reason, as yet unknown, the previous evening the Czar had issued a new ukase ordering general mobilisation. Surely, with Russian reservists flocking to the colours within a dozen miles of the Prussian frontier, the Kaiser must call his people to arms. Yet he had now made it very clear to Vienna that, in view of the Serbians’ submissive reply to the Austrian ultimatum, he considered that the Dual Monarchy had not been justified in starting a war. If, too, his timidity got the better of his impulsiveness, he would still shrink from allowing his Generals to push him into any step which might place it beyond his power to influence the final outcome.

  August came in with brilliant sunshine and its first day again saw Vienna’s streets filled with cheering multitudes. The news for which all Austria-Hungary had been praying had come through during the night. At 3.30 the previous afternoon Berlin had sent an ultimatum to St. Petersburg declaring that, if Russia did not cease within twelve hours every war measure against Germany and Austria-Hungary and make a definite declaration to that effect, German mobilisation would be ordered. The ultimatum had been delivered at midnight, and so far there was no news of any reply to it. But that did not trouble the Viennese. All that mattered to them was that their ally had at last come out openly on their side, and that the Czar must now accept the humiliation of withdrawing his troops from the frontiers, or face the onslaught of the mighty German army side by side with their own.

  De Richleau, scanning every paper he could find for paragraphs which might throw light on Britain’s attitude, found several that referred to Sir Edward Grey’s tireless efforts to keep the peace, and one which stated that the Grand Fleet had passed the narrows of the Channel, steaming northward for the open sea, during the hours of darkness between the 29th and 30th. An official announcement followed, that the move was normal and must not be construed as having a war-like intent against any power. Basically that was true, but it gave the Duke fresh cause to admire Mr. Churchill’s tremendous awareness and grasp of strategic imperatives. He had secured his great ships from any surprise attack by enemy submarines while still in coastal waters; and had got them unscathed into the North Sea, where they could dominate the Atlantic shipping routes and, at will, cut Germany off from the outer world.

  Although the Duke had no means of knowing it then, the move was rightly interpreted by the German Admiralty and Foreign Office. Herr von Jagow and the Kaiser took alarm; belatedly they turned a willing ear to Sir Edward Grey’s proposals. War did not offer so much glamour for them if Britain was coming in. On that fateful first day of August they strove at the eleventh hour to retrieve the situation and definitely accepted a new suggestion by Sir Edward for direct negotiations between Austria and Russia. But the sands were running out. Mid-day came: the time limit of twelve hours that Germany had given in her ultimatum to Russia had expired. Still the now harassed and frightened Kaiser hesitated. Must he now tread the slippery and terrifying path that he had so wantonly laid out for himself? Or should he yet draw back, to stand branded by his own people as a coward, and be humiliated before all the world? For six hours he remained paralysed by fear, still hesitating which of the two awful courses to take. Vanity won. The covert sneers on the faces of his Generals proved too much for him. At 6 p.m. on 1st August he declared war on Russia.

  Immediately de Richleau learned the news, which was on the morning of the 2nd, he went to see Count Tisza. The Hungarian received him with every mark of kindness, but said that he could not yet release him from his parole. In Vienna it was considered extremely improbable that Britain would come in unless France did so, and France was maintaining an attitude of great caution. So far she had made no pronouncement that she intended to honour her alliance with Russia, and, until she did so, or was attacked by Germany, there was still a possibility that the conflict might not spread to Western Europe.

  The Duke protested that Germany dared not throw her main forces against Russia with the possibility that later, when she was fully engaged, France might succumb to the temptation to attack her in the rear. Therefore, it was imperative to Germany to clarify her position. She must either take on France simultaneously with Russia, or get such guarantees from France as would render her unable to intervene later; and it was highly improbable that suitable guarantees would be forthcoming.

  “That remains to be seen,” replied the Count. “I understand that Germany has already asked for such guarantees in the form of a demand that France should proclaim her intention of remaining neutral, and surrender the fortresses of Toul and Verdun as a pledge of her neutrality.”

  “To that France would never agree!” exclaimed the Duke.

  “I think you right,” the Count nodded. “But all is not yet lost in the other theatre. In spite of the fact that hostilities have commenced between Germany and Russia, Sir Edward Grey is continuing his indefatigable labours to induce them to accept some form of arbitration before a clash between their main ar
mies can occur. If he succeeds Germany’s demands will automatically be dropped. And even should his efforts fail, and the war spread to France, there is still no certainty that Britain will come in. No, Duke; in view of the intimate terms on which you have been with so many people in Vienna, I cannot allow you to start for England yet. But I will do so at the first moment that I consider consistent with our security.”

  With that de Richleau had to be content, and he hurried off to a committee meeting at which Ilona had agreed to take the chair, although it was Sunday, as the matters to be discussed were of considerable urgency. During it, she managed to slip him a note. Much to his surprise, it told him that she was going to de Lazalo’s that afternoon, and it was not until later he learned how she had been able to arrange a further escape from her usual sabbath routine.

  Owing to her new war activities, she was now greatly pressed for time, and Countess Aulendorf had said that she ought to give up her sittings. She had refused to do so as they provided the only opportunities she had to be alone with her lover, and she knew that he might at any day have to leave Vienna. So, on the excuse of getting the portrait finished quickly, she had arranged for a sitting that afternoon and every day until it was done. But when they met there, far from allowing de Lazalo a chance to get on with the picture, she cut his work short after a restless sitting of only a quarter of an hour and sent him with Adam and Sárolta out into the garden, in order that she and de Richleau might have longer to delight in one another’s caresses.

  As soon as they had exchanged their first breathless kiss, she said that she had a piece of good news for him. Greatly as Bulgaria was tempted to revenge herself on Serbia for her defeat a year earlier, in the second Balkan war, she had decided against taking any action for the time being. The Russians, who had strong ties with the Bulgars, supported by the French and British ministers in Sofia, were straining every nerve to keep Bulgaria neutral. It had become evident that this weighty influence would restrain the Bulgarians, at least until they knew which of the Great Powers would become involved in the conflict. In consequence, the invitation by the Triple Alliance to Bulgaria to join it, had been politely put aside among ‘matters requiring further consideration’, and, with it, the project of Ilona’s marriage to Prince Boris.