The Second Seal

by Dennis Wheatley

  Lanzi puffed out a cloud of blue smoke. “Well, it seems this is the end of our mission. We’d better start back tomorrow.”

  “I suppose you had, but I shall not have the pleasure of accompanying you,” the Duke said quietly. “Our C.-in-C. asked me to go on from here with a personal letter to General von Moltke.” He turned to Captain Fleischmann and added: “Perhaps you would be good enough to arrange transport for me to Aix-la-Chapelle.”

  “Jawohl, Herr Oberste Graf,” replied the Captain.

  After a moment, Lanzi said: “You’ll have to go via Berlin, won’t you? I think I’ll go with you that far. As I can’t take back any German proposals for assisting our offensive, it won’t make any odds if I don’t turn up at Przemysl for a few days. It will be quite enough to send a wire, saying there is nothing doing. A visit to Berlin will take me only two or three hundred miles out of my way, and I’m paying the rent for a flat there for a pretty little Fraulein. It’s quite a long time since I’ve seen her, and this seems too good a chance to be missed.”

  “That’s just as you wish,” smiled the Duke. And, although neither of them could know it, this casual decision to spend a night with a young trollop whom he had almost forgotten, was to cost Baron Lanzelin Ungash-Wallersee his life.

  But they were not destined to leave for Berlin next morning. At nine o’clock Captain Fleischmann brought them a message that General Hoffmann, the Chief of the Operations Section of the 8th Army H.Q., would like to see them, and took them to a big room at the back of the house, in which the General was working.

  He was a square-shouldered man with a broad forehead, dark hair and a small moustache. He looked as if he needed a wash, and his eyes were a little bleary: but he spoke with crisp decision.

  “Herrschaft! The C.-in-C. is indisposed and has asked me to see you for him. It is most regrettable that you should have arrived here at such an unfortunate moment for us, but I can assure you that our situation is by no means as desperate as it appears. You have probably heard rumours this morning that a retirement to the Vistula has been ordered. They are entirely without foundation.”

  “The C.-in-C. told us himself last night that he had ordered it,” put in Lanzi, with a regal disregard for tact.

  “Oh, did he?” the German looked momentarily disconcerted. “Well, as a matter of fact, he did. But my colleagues and I persuaded him that it would be impossible to carry out such a movement without first fighting another battle. General Samsonov’s army is eighty miles nearer to the Vistula than we are, and would cut us off before we could get there. If you will give me your attention for a moment, I will show you what we intend to do.”

  Standing up, General Hoffmann turned to a big map behind him, on which both German and Russian formations were marked. Pointing to a group of flags to the north of Gumbinnen, he said:

  “There are our 1st Corps and a Cavalry Division, under General von François. With those forces he inflicted a severe defeat yesterday on Rennenkampf’s right wing. By it he has carried out, to a degree that I consider adequate, the first move in Count Schlieffen’s Plan II. General von Mackensen’s XVIIth Corps in the centre was very roughly handled, but it has been rallied a few miles back, and he has succeeded in closing the gap. To the south, General von Below’s 1st Reserve Corps inflicted heavy losses on the enemy. In consequence, I do not believe that Rennenkampf will be ready to strike again for some days to come.”

  He coughed, then went on: “Now, these are our intentions. Without a moment’s delay, we shall bring the 1st Corps back by rail to Königsberg, down the Baltic to Marienburg, then south-east through Deutch Elau. The XVIIth Corps will make a flank march behind the lakes in the same direction. The 1st Reserve Corps will follow it, and both will come up on the left of the XXth Corps, which has not yet been in action. So, with our four Corps deployed in the neighbourhood of Tannenberg, we shall meet Samsonov and smash him.”

  “I find your proposals most interesting, Herr General,” murmured the Duke. “But are you quite happy that General von François will be able to extricate himself for this new move?”

  “Yes!” came the unhesitating reply. “I am confident of it. He has already shown qualities of Generalship which have proved an inspiration to all who know him.”

  “This move of his 1st Corps, by rail, though? They will have to come nearly two hundred miles, from one end of the front to the other. With their guns and war stores that is a terrific undertaking. Most staffs would need a week to work it out before the troops could begin to entrain.”

  General Hoffmann smiled and stroked the dark stubble on his chin. “My assistants and I worked all through the night. It is completed.”

  Turning back to the map, he went on quickly, “Now, Herrschaft, for the broader picture. You will see that the Grand Duke has divided his forces into two Army Groups. His 1st and 2nd Armies, under General Jilinski, are opposed to us on this front. His 4th, 5th, 3rd and 8th, in that order, are massed under General Ivanov from opposite Przemysl down to the Rumanian border. But, observe, Herrschaft, in the Polish salient he has nothing but covering troops and the skeleton of a 9th Army which is reported to be forming behind Warsaw. If General von Hötzendorf strikes east, he will come up against the main forces of General Ivanov’s southern Army Group. But if he strikes north, he will be opposed only by the flank of the 4th Army. By adopting the latter course he can be of the greatest possible assistance to us, and, I hope, by the time he reaches Warsaw, we to him. For we shall no longer be facing east ourselves, but south; and immediately we have defeated Samsonov’s army we can march straight on to form a junction with your forces.”

  De Richleau saw at once what this brilliant staff officer was up to. Such a man would never have disclosed his plans so fully to his allies unless he thought that by doing so he could get something out of them. He wanted the Austrians to attack north so that, although distant, their line of advance would threaten Samsonov’s rear, and possibly cause him to break off his battle with the re-deployed German 8th Army. What Hoffmann had deliberately refrained from pointing out was that immediately this 8th Army was relieved from Samsonov’s pressure in the south, it would have to turn north again to face a renewed attack by Rennenkampf. But the Duke naturally refrained from saying so.

  GENERAL HOFFMANN’S REDEPLOYMENT OF THE GERMAN EIGHTH ARMY AFTER GUMBINNEN

  Lanzi only stroked his beautiful beard with an air of profound wisdom, and remarked: “Then you think, Herr General, that in a week or so’s time you may after all be in a position to co-operate with us?”

  “Certainly, Herr Oberste Baron,” replied the German blandly. “I, therefore, suggest that you should send a signal to your C.-in-C., urging him to attack in a northerly direction at once, and follow it yourself as soon as possible, in order to explain matters to him in detail.”

  That suited the Duke, but did not suit Lanzi. Since the previous evening he had been happily toying with the idea of once again having a romp with little Mitzi Muller. As a city, he hated Berlin; but he occasionally had to pass through it on his way to shoot boar with minor German royalties, and whenever he put in a night with her there she gave him a very good time. He was now most loath to forgo the salacious entertainment that this depraved young person provided. But he had sense enough to realise that even his amiable old crony, the Archduke Frederick, might kick if he lingered on his journey in such circumstances as the present; so he said:

  “We will send the telegram, and after this talk with you, Herr General, I am prepared to make it a very strong one. But I shall not start back until to-morrow. By then we may have received a satisfactory reply. If not, we shall at least know for certain whether General von François has succeeded in disengaging his Corps, and I shall then be in a better position to advise my C.-in-C. further.”

  Concealing his annoyance, de Richleau told the General about the letter he had to deliver to von Moltke, and said that he thought he ought now to proceed at once to Aix-la-Chapelle with it. But Hoffmann vetoed that by a req
uest that could hardly be refused.

  “Since you are going to Main Headquarters, I should be glad if you would take a dispatch for me. I shall not have it ready until to-morrow morning, as I must wait for Tonight’s situation reports before I can complete it. But your own letter can be of no great urgency, or you would have been sent direct to Aix-la-Chapelle; so it won’t matter in the least if you don’t deliver it for a day or two. Also, it is certain that, when you get there, they will question you about the situation here and, if you do not leave until to-morrow morning, you will be able to give them more up to date information.”

  So the matter was decided; and, unwittingly, the Duke and the Baron had been among the first to be made aware of one of the most remarkable feats in military history. Overnight, General Hoffmann had taken the battle out of his C.-in-C.’s hands and, in a few hours, re-disposed the whole of the 8th Army, directing it on Tannenberg where, one week later, it was to win immortal glory.

  During the remainder of the 21st, nothing of apparent importance happened, but on the morning of the 22nd a piece of news came in that electrified the Headquarters. Von Prittwitz had been sacked. In his place a combination had been appointed that was to become world famous. General Hindenburg was to be C.-in-C., with General Ludendorff as his Chief of Staff. About both, romantic and spectacular stories were soon running round.

  Old Hindenburg had specialised in East Prussia. He knew every coppice and every marsh in it, but he had reached the age limit and been retired three years earlier. On the outbreak of war, he had immediately offered his services, but there were so many younger generals available that it had not been thought worth while to use him, even for training troops. For three weeks he had been sitting daily at his usual café in Hanover in a civilian suit, eating out his heart. Now, out of the blue the call had come—not to an administrative job, not to inspect new formations, or train reservists, but to be Commander-in-Chief Eastern Front and save his imperilled Fatherland from invasion.

  Ludendorff was known to be one of the most brilliant officers of that talented and exclusive organisation, the Stabs Corps. So dynamic was he, that his superiors had sent him the previous year to cool his heels for a while as a Commander of an Infantry brigade. But he had been re-posted as Deputy Quartermaster-General to the German spearhead which, after invading Belgium, had on the night of the 6th of August been given the task of capturing Liége. In the darkness the advancing columns had lost their way among the enemy forts, become mixed up, and finally halted in hopeless confusion. Out of the night, Ludendorff had appeared upon the scene, taken command of all the forces he could collect, found the right road, led the troops personally into the city and, at dawn, demanded and received the surrender of the citadel with its entire garrison.

  These two were now on the way east as fast as a special train could bring them. A telegram had already been received from Ludendorff. It suspended von Prittwitz, ordered the Corps Commanders to act independently until further instructions, and required all the principal staff officers with 8th Army Headquarters to meet him and the new C.-in-C. back at Marienburg on the eastern arm of the Vistula.

  It was now six days since the Duke had left Vienna and, fearing that sooner or later his presence at Przemysl must come to the ears of Major Ronge, he was extremely anxious to proceed with his plan for disappearing; so, on hearing the news, he at once went to General Hoffmann and asked for the dispatch.

  The General replied that, in view of the change in command, he no longer intended to send his dispatch as it stood. He added that he felt confident that the new C.-in-C. would move up to Wartenburg as soon as he was informed of the situation, and that as de Richleau would certainly be asked about East Prussia when he reached Main Headquarters, it was essential that he should remain until he had heard General Hindenburg’s views.

  That left de Richleau no alternative but to make a moonlight flitting; so, reluctant as he was to remain there a moment longer than he positively had to, he decided that, rather than take such a drastic step after all had gone so well, it would be better to stay on for another day, in the hope that doing so would enable him to leave openly.

  Having secured the agreement of the Corps Commanders to continue the movements he had prescribed, General Hoffmann and a number of others hurriedly set off in the train that was kept in the siding near the house, leaving only the junior officers behind to function now as an advance headquarters. But that evening a new visitor arrived, and no secret was made of the fact that he was Chief of the German Secret Intelligence Corps.

  He was a tall dark man, wore Colonel’s uniform and was named Walter Nicolai. He announced that all his Intelligence arrangements were working admirably in the west, so he had thought the time ripe to check up on those for the Eastern Front. During dinner he gave a glowing account of the German wheel into Belgium, and the news that the serious fighting which had been reported along the Western Front from the morning of the 20th on, had now developed into the first great battle between the French and German armies. He had innumerable figures on the tip of his tongue and said that 2,000,000 Germans were now engaged against 1,300,000 Frenchmen, so there could be no possible doubt that within a few weeks the Fatherland would destroy the French army and force its remnants to surrender.

  As had been the case at Przemysl, de Richleau was known as Colonel Count Königstein, and everybody referred to him by that name, with the one exception of old Lanzi, who persisted in calling him ‘Duke’. When they were sitting in the ante-room after dinner this anomaly aroused the curiosity of Colonel Nicolai, and Lanzi smilingly explained the matter. Thereupon, the Intelligence Chief gave the Duke a rather strange look, and said:

  “How strange. I had an idea that the Duke de Richleau was a Frenchman who had taken British nationality. I feel sure I remember reading a report about his having been in London last spring, and our people got the idea that he was mixed up in some way with the Committee of Imperial Defence.”

  It was a horrid moment for the Duke, but he managed to keep his glance, and the hand that held his cigar, quite steady, as a glib lie came without effort to his lips:

  “That must have been my rascally cousin, up to his tricks again. When he thinks he can get away with it, he has the impudence to use my title. For some years he has been living in the United States, and as I have never been there I have had no opportunity of showing him up as an impostor. From what you say, I suppose he must have been on a visit to London.”

  Colonel Nicolai seemed quite satisfied with the explanation, but de Richleau was badly shaken. He decided that night that, whatever happened, he must get away from Wartenburg the following day. But first thing next morning he learned that Hindenburg and Ludendorff were on their way up from Marienburg, so he decided not to burn his boats until the evening; by which time he hoped to have secured the sanction of one of them to his leaving.

  They arrived that afternoon; Hindenburg big, square-headed, impressive; Ludendorff, plump, double-chinned and, as the Kaiser said of him, ‘with a face like a sergeant’. General Hoffmann looked tired, but happy. He had feared to be made the whipping boy for von Prittwitz’s blunders, and replaced. But his tremendous tour de force on the night of the 20th had earned him high praise from his new Chiefs. Not only were he and his staff confirmed in their appointments, but Ludendorff had not altered a single one of his brilliant re-dispositions for the coming battle of Tannenberg.

  At five o’clock de Richleau and Lanzi were sent for by Ludendorff. Hoffmann was with him, and both of them were almost purring with satisfaction. A telegram had just come in from von Hötzendorf. On the previous day he had ordered his 1st Army to advance north towards Lublin and his 4th north-east towards Kholm, while his 3rd was to cover Lemberg. That morning the battle had been joined.

  Thus, the main forces of all the Great Powers were now, at last, fully engaged. No less than thirty-two Armies, totalling over 7,000,000 of the best trained and equipped troops in the world, were at death grips. With every tick of the clock
enough blood to fill a river was pouring from the torn arteries of the flower of Europe’s youth, and hour by hour that must now continue until a decision was reached.

  It was an appalling thought, but the Generals and their staffs at all the main headquarters were immersed in their plans for further slaughter, and remained impervious to it. Ludendorff expressed his great pleasure at General von Hötzendorf’s most timely co-operation, and assured his visitors that the German 8th Army would reciprocate at the earliest possible moment.

  The Duke again raised the matter of his departure for Aix-la-Chapelle, and the new Chief of Staff said: “I am sending one of my own officers, Major Tauber, there with dispatches by special train Tonight. You can travel with him. The train will leave from the siding here about ten o’clock.”

  With that the interview ended, and at last the Duke’s mind was partially relieved of the ever increasing strain it had been under for the past few days. If his luck now held for only another twenty-four hours, that should be sufficient to see him out of danger. When they got outside, Lanzi said with a cheerful smile:

  “Well, things couldn’t have worked out more satisfactorily, could they? There’s no need for me to hurry back now. I shall come with you on the train as far as Berlin, and send the car down to meet me at Breslau. Come up to my room and I’ll show you Mitzi’s photograph. She’s a delicious morsel, I promise you.”

  On the top floor of the house, in a small bedroom that had been allotted to him, the Colonel Baron Ungash-Wallersee produced what he jokingly called his ‘Bible’. It was a small album containing the postcard size photographs of the eight girls he kept in Vienna, Budapest, Paris, and other cities. Mitzi was a blonde with slanting eyes that promised every sort of wickedness, and the collection would have done credit to any chorus.