The Second Seal

by Dennis Wheatley

  “I will have that done with pleasure,” the Governor agreed. Then he sent for the Duke’s hat and coat, and personally escorted him to the outer door, where Adam had a cab waiting.

  As soon as it drove off de Richleau said with a chuckle: “Well, my friend, I am truly grateful to you for your endeavours on my behalf. These war time emergency powers are quite reminiscent of the lettre de cachet, on which the Kings of France used to have people thrown into the Bastille for an unspecified period. I was beginning to fear that I might be kept in that damn prison until the war was over.”

  Adam grinned at him in the semi-darkness. “I think you might have been, but for a mysterious cheque that de Lazalo brought round to Sárolta this morning; and Ilona raising Cain with the Chief of Police every hour since, until he discovered your whereabouts.”

  “So my trick worked, eh? It was a long shot, but that fat Secret Service man refused to allow me to communicate with anyone. I wonder, though, that Ilona did not start her inquiries about me when I failed to appear at our last rendezvous. I might quite well have been in hospital as the result of an accident.”

  “Oh no! I learned the same afternoon that the reason you did not turn up at the studio was because you had been arrested.”

  “Then, if you knew that, why the devil have you waited all this time before doing something about me?”

  “Because I was given to understand that the matter of your arrest had been straightened out, and that you had left after all that afternoon for England. When you did not appear at de Lazalo’s Ilona got into a frightful state, and sent me off to Sacher’s. I arrived there to find the detectives collecting your baggage. Ronge was with them. He told me that you had been arrested in mistake for someone else, and that your detention was likely to cause you to miss your train. You know, or perhaps you don’t know, that hundreds of people were fighting to get on those last trains out of Vienna before the frontiers closed. Anyhow, he said that by way of amends he had sent you straight to the station with a police Inspector to get you a seat, and had come himself to collect your luggage for you.”

  “By Jove!” exclaimed the Duke. “One can’t help admiring that fellow. He’s as cunning as the devil.”

  Adam nodded. “Poor Ilona was nearly hysterical when I had to tell her that she had lost her last chance of saying good-bye to you; but the explanation Ronge gave me was so plausible that we naturally accepted it. Just now, before you were brought up from your cell, I charged him in front of the Governor with having told me a flat lie, but he seemed to think that he would have been justified in going to pretty well any lengths in order to make certain of keeping you under lock and key. What is all this nonsense about your being a dangerous enemy agent?”

  De Richleau sighed. “I am, alas, now technically an enemy of your country, Count; but I assure you I am not in the least a dangerous one.”

  “You are prepared to give me your word, then, that there is not an atom of truth in the suggestion that you have been endeavouring to obtain our military secrets?”

  “Certainly I am.” The Duke glanced at his companion in surprise, and added a little sharply: “Knowing me well, as you do, I think it a little odd that you should require it.”

  Count Adam shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I do so as a responsibility towards others. As you are aware, Her Imperial Highness got you out of prison on the grounds that you are an officer of her regiment. When I discussed the matter with her, we decided that your safest course would be to join it actively—anyhow for the time being.”

  “I see,” murmured the Duke. “But is that really necessary? Major Ronge said that he would not molest me as long as I remained in Vienna.”

  “I know he did; but if he finds that you have resumed your old life at Sacher’s, and are lunching and dining again with all sorts of influential people, he may reconsider his decision. He was quite right, you know, about Her Imperial Highness having no official status; so any time he feels that you have given him fresh grounds for suspicion he can go to von Ostromiecz, persuade him to disregard her, and get a special warrant to pop you back into prison. He will naturally expect you to report at the barracks. That’s why I asked for your things to be sent round there. You see, he is counting on your being kept too busy by military duties to do any harm. To-morrow I propose to take you along to our mess and present you formally on joining. Even if you were an enemy agent, you couldn’t learn much in a cavalry barracks; but, all the same, you will appreciate how I am placed. In fairness to my brother officers, I had to ask your word of honour that Ronge’s suspicions are unfounded.”

  “My dear fellow, as far as my activities in Vienna are concerned, I give it you willingly. I think, too, that your plan for me to join the regiment until things sort themselves out a little is a very sound one. I would like to add that while I remain with it, in spite of my true nationality, I shall temporarily regard myself as a loyal soldier to the Emperor.”

  “That’s damned handsome of you, seeing that you’re really one of the enemy.” Count Adam smiled again. “It’s another load off my conscience, too. I didn’t relish the idea at all of having to conceal the fact that you are British, but now that won’t trouble me. They are a fine lot of fellows, and soldiering is good fun all the world over; but naturally we shouldn’t expect you to go on active service.”

  “I should hope not,” laughed the Duke.

  “That is one snag about our plan, though,” the Count rejoined seriously. “The regiment forms part of the 5th Cavalry Division, and on Saturday the Division is to do a ride past for its final inspection before leaving for the Russian front. They will not actually entrain for several days after that, of course; but when they do, and you are left behind, Ronge may start making trouble again.”

  “I don’t see why he should. Knowing me to be British, he could hardly expect me to take part in a campaign against my Russian allies.”

  “That’s true. The trouble is it’s damned difficult to know what he does expect. But presumably, as he let you out as a soldier, he may start kicking directly he hears you have ceased to act as one.”

  “In my view, he let me out only because he could bring no charge against me; and, in the circumstances, did not feel that he had good enough grounds for inducing his Minister to have a first-class row with Ilona in order to keep me inside. Anyhow, if need be, I could maintain my role by remaining here to train recruits at the regimental depot. But tell me, if we are not going to the barracks until to-morrow, where are you taking me now?”

  “To the palace, of course; and we’ll be there in a minute.” Adam Grünne hesitated, while he played with one curled-up end of his brown moustache, then added awkwardly; “I’m afraid the meeting’s going to be a bit of a shock for you. She’s ill—damned ill: and she looks it.”

  “Oh God!” breathed the Duke. “She’s had a relapse, then?”

  “Yes. The evening after you disappeared she worked herself up into a positive frenzy of grief. The result was that she had a haemorrhage. She’s been in bed ever since.”

  “If only she would go to a clinic in the mountains, and undergo a proper cure.”

  “I know. She ought to have done so months ago; but she is as pigheaded as a mule. Still, she has agreed to at last, thank goodness, as soon as she is fit to be moved.”

  “When do you think that will be?”

  “Any day now.”

  The cab slowed down, then pulled up with a jerk. As they got out, and Adam paid off the driver, de Richleau saw that instead of driving up to the entrance of the palace the cab had halted some distance from it on the far side of the bridge over the canal. It was now nearly a quarter to eleven and, catching his thought, the Count muttered:

  “I don’t want anyone to recognise you going in, if we can avoid it. That’s why I waited till after dark to come for you. Turn up your coat collar and pull the brim of your hat down over your eyes.”

  At a quick pace they set off over the bridge and across the square in front of the palace
. Count Adam was, as usual, in uniform and, recognising his short, stalwart figure at once, the sentries let them through with a smart salute. Turning left, they walked to the eastern end of the palace, round it and along its garden front to a low door. As Adam took out a key and unlocked it, de Richleau recognised it as the one they had used on the two evenings when he had dined with Ilona at the beginning of the month. With Adam leading, they slipped quietly up the service staircase. At its top he peered cautiously to right and left along the dimly lit corridor; then, opening a door opposite, he pushed the Duke inside with a whispered injunction to wait there till he came back.

  As de Richleau stepped inside there was just enough light for him to see that it was a housemaids’ closet, then the door closed behind him and he was in pitch darkness. But he had not to wait long. Five minutes later Adam Grünne returned, beckoned him out, and led him on tiptoe down the corridor to Ilona’s boudoir.

  Sárolta was sitting there, and her dark almond eyes smiled him a greeting, but she put a finger to her lips. Then, as he kissed her hand, she said in a low voice: “Has Adam told you how ill she has been?”

  He nodded. “Yes. And I am distraught with anxiety about her.”

  “She has lost a lot of weight,” Sárolta went on, “and I’m afraid you will be shocked by her appearance. But she is quite a lot better now than she has been. Dr. Bruckner was very pleased with her progress when he was here this evening.”

  “That, at least, is good news. Adam tells me, too, that she has at last agreed to go into a sanatorium. I did my utmost to persuade her to before, but she wouldn’t listen.”

  “It’s that I want to talk to you about. Dr. Bruckner has arranged for her to go to Hohenembs, in the Vorarlberg, near the Swiss frontier. It’s not a proper sanatorium. She jibbed at that. She says that even if she didn’t see the other patients, the very idea of having people who were ill, and perhaps dying, in the same building would make her worse.”

  “But can she have proper treatment there?”

  “Yes. A young doctor and two nurses who have trained under Dr. Bruckner are going with her; and he intends to visit her once a fortnight himself. It’s a châlet on a hill-top overlooking the Upper Rhine and belongs to the Emperor. Members of the Imperial family have used it for convalescing before, so in a sense it is already a private clinic. We couldn’t really have a more suitable place for her. But I wanted to speak to you about her leaving.”

  “Yes?”

  Sárolta’s small dark face looked very troubled. “This evening Dr. Bruckner said that he considered her sufficiently recovered to be moved to-morrow, and Count Aulendorf at once set about making arrangements for our journey. I haven’t dared to tell her yet—and now she’s got you back again I’m afraid she may refuse to go.”

  “She must,” declared the Duke. “She’s neglected her health for too long as it is; and the thing that is important above all else is to get her well again. I promise you I won’t allow her to postpone her departure for a single day on my account.”

  “Oh, thank you!” Sárolta smiled her relief. “I know how much you love her, and I felt sure I could count on your help. Come with me now and I’ll take you to her.”

  Ilona’s bedroom was next door and as they entered it, although de Richleau’s gaze was fixed on the figure in the bed, he could not help taking in the furnishings of the room and feeling some surprise at them. The rest of her suite contained mainly period pieces in excellent taste, but this held only bare necessities, and these were of an ugly Victorian mould. The bed was of brass; a marble-topped wash-stand stood near it; the wardrobe and two chests of drawers were of bulky mahogany, with round wooden handles; and above the mantel there was a heavily framed mirror of unattractive design. But the thought that such lodging-house furniture was in keeping with the spartan tradition of the Imperial family, was gone in a flash as his glance met Ilona’s.

  She was propped up in bed with several pillows for support. Her chestnut hair, which he had never before seen down, was parted in the centre and descended over her shoulders in two long, thick plaits. Her face was much thinner and very white, except where two red patches, like the splashes of paint on a Dutch doll, burned above her cheek bones. Her blue eyes seemed enormous. But her dazzling smile was as joyous as ever, as she held out her arms to him with a cry of delight.

  Sárolta turned and, smiling over her shoulder, closed the door behind her. Next moment Ilona’s arms were round de Richleau’s neck and she drew his dark head down to her fair one.

  A quarter of an hour slipped by before they could bring themselves to talk coherently; then he told her of the dark machinations of Major Ronge, and she told him of her agony at the thought that he had left her without a last kiss to remember. She admitted that for some days she had been very ill, but declared that by the end of the week she would be up and about again.

  “You are going to this place on the Swiss border, though, aren’t you?” he asked anxiously. “Your last attack was much worse than any you’ve had before, and it would be sheer madness to trifle with your health any longer.”

  She nodded. “Yes. I’ve promised Sárolta and Adam and everybody that I would, so I really must. Hohenembs is a lovely spot and I shall be as happy there as I could be anywhere without you. I’ve an idea, too, that to go there will be lucky for me.”

  “I pray it will, my sweet,” he smiled. “But why should you think so?”

  “Do you not know its history? The châlet was built for my grandmother, the Empress Elizabeth, for her to have mountain air and treatment there when they thought she had consumption. But it turned out that she was not tubercular after all; and afterwards, whenever she went abroad incognito, she always travelled as the Countess Hohenembs to perpetuate the memory of her happy deliverance.”

  “That certainly is a fortunate omen; even if there is little chance of such a happy discovery being made about you.”

  “But I shall get well there, so what is the difference? When I am quite recovered I must ask Grandpapa to give me the title, so that when I come to England to see you after the war I can perpetuate its old associations.”

  “The thought you conjure up will make me redouble my prayers that the war may be a short one. But it reminds me, too, that now I am a free man again I must start making my plans to get home.”

  “No, Armand!” She seized his hand. “I forbid you to.”

  He gave her a puzzled look. “But, darling, my duty lies there. You know that. It’s true that you have made yourself responsible for me; but no one would dare to even question you if you took it on yourself to let me go. And I am no more a danger to Austria now than I was the day they arrested me.”

  “Oh I know that! I know that!”

  “Then give me leave to depart. Call it indefinite leave from the regiment if you like. Or, if you prefer, give me your private permission and say afterwards that I broke my parole to you.”

  “How can you think that I would ever disgrace your name to shield myself?”

  “Darling, I spoke without thought. But for me to stay on in Vienna now for longer than I positively must would be as great a disgrace. Surely you did not secure my release from prison only to hold me as your personal captive? If so, such golden fetters would be chains of shame.”

  “Oh, Armand, how cruel you are! Of course I did not mean to do that. I meant only that now, when I thought you far away in England, a miracle has restored you to me. It seemed an abuse of Heaven’s generosity to think of other things. I know only too well that I must let you go. But not just yet. That is the only reason why I forbade you to talk of your plans for getting away.”

  Instantly he was filled with contrition, and with his arm about her shoulders strove to comfort her. Yet he was terribly and miserably aware that he must break it to her that this was their last meeting. With an aching heart, he took the plunge:

  “Ilona, I would never have raised the matter had I not felt bound to do so. Even if I sacrificed loyalty to my country to stay on he
re a while, that would be pointless now that you are leaving for Hohenembs.”

  “I am not going yet. Not till towards the end of the week.”

  The tears were in his eyes as he shook his head. “My adored Princess, they told me before I came in here that Dr. Bruckner thinks you fit to travel to-morrow, and that Count Aulendorf is already making all the arrangements.”

  “I won’t go!” she exclaimed. “I won’t go! And they can’t make me!”

  “Please, Ilona. You refuse to acknowledge it to others, but you know yourself that your life is in danger. Every day may be the one day that will make the difference. You must go! I beg you to!”

  She shook her head. “Not to-morrow. Not until you are on your way out of Austria. It is going to be difficult for you to get away now that Ronge has ordered all his police to be on the look-out for you. If you disappeared at once it would be like ringing an alarm bell. You must wait here until we have lulled him into a false sense of security. And I’ll not go to Hohenembs until we have devised some safe way for you to get across the frontier.”

  “To give the impression that I had settled down would require ten days or more. You cannot afford those days, Ilona. You are right that I should be stupid to rush my fences. To secure a better chance of getting clean away I am quite prepared to bide my time for a bit. But your life or death may hang upon your getting mountain air without delay. I implore you to leave to-morrow, just as you would have had you never learned that I was still in Vienna.”

  “I’ll not do it.”

  Taking his arm from round her shoulders he stood up and looked down into her face. “I think you will, Ilona; because, much as I hate to do it, I am going to tell you now what will happen if you don’t. Your life is far more precious to me than my freedom. I’ll not allow any prospect of seeing me to do further injury to your health. If you persist in refusing to submit to the arrangements that have been made for you, when I leave here Tonight I shall go straight back to the prison, and let Major Ronge do what the devil he likes with me.”