The Scarlet Impostor

by Dennis Wheatley

  He gave a rueful grin and said: ‘Well, there it is: I’ve got the sack.’

  ‘I, too, have had the sack,’ said the little Colonel. ‘More times than I care to remember. But I’m still here, you see, and now they give me the best room in the building to sit in. We have a charming view from here, don’t you think?’

  ‘Are you implying that I should tear this telegram up?’ said Gregory quickly.

  Colonel Lacroix shrugged eloquently. ‘Telegrams do not always reach their destination. If I am questioned in a few weeks’ time I shall have to admit handing it you. If, however, you care to give it back to me now I might leave it in the drawer of my desk and forget to give it to you for the time being. There are times when my memory for details is not very good.’

  Gregory turned in his chair and looked straight into the shrewd, dark eyes in the humorous, wisened face, ‘May I ask why you propose to do this for me, sir?’

  ‘Monsieur Sallust, I am qualified to occupy this chair only because I have the gift of judging men. Your record in the last war is enough to show that you are courageous. Our previous conversation showed me that you are no fool. The British authorities now vouch for your patriotism. I have formed the opinion that if you were to be entrusted with any mission you would do everything in your power to carry it through successfully. If my superiors had not given me another chance when I was a young man I would not be sitting where I am today. I would like to give you another chance.’

  Gregory inclined his head. ‘I accept your offer very gratefully, sir.’

  ‘In that case do you feel that you would be justified in telling me what you have been trying to do? If you could confide in me I might be able to render you some assistance.’

  ‘Certainly,’ Gregory replied with rising elation. ‘I’m sure that neither Sir Pellinore Gwaine-Cust nor the people for whom he’s acting would have the least objection to my giving anyone in your position full particulars of my mission.’

  He then gave a quick résumé of Sir Pellinore’s original instructions to him, his visit to Germany and his subsequent activities. When he had done Colonel Lacroix nodded.

  ‘I know, of course, of the letter from the Allied Statesmen that you mention and of the list of the Inner Gestapo, both of which are with our friends in Berlin. A British agent secured the latter just before the war broke out, so it was agreed that it should be left to the British to get both of these documents to the proper person if possible. But even if you succeed in performing this extraordinarily difficult task I am not altogether sanguine about the ultimate result of the anti-Nazi conspiracy.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Gregory. ‘Don’t you believe that if the German Generals could once be persuaded to act they would be capable of pulling off the proposed coup?’

  ‘I’m decidedly doubtful about it. While such a conspiracy lies dormant it is always difficult for the secret police to secure particulars of it, but once the conspirators become active there is a much greater risk of leakage. Every man of importance in Germany is watched day and night by the Gestapo, so the success of such a venture lies on the knees of the gods. If it is as powerfully supported as you suppose such a putsch might succeed; if on the other hand the Gestapo are forewarned it might well be crushed before it could even start.’

  ‘You agree, though, that it might succeed?’

  ‘Certainly.’

  ‘And that if it did it would result in a speedy end to the war?’

  ‘I’m not sure about that. It is possible, of course.’

  ‘But you admit the possibility of success, and surely even the slenderest chance is worth any conceivable trouble or sacrifice.’

  ‘I’m not certain whether I agree with you there, either. I spoke just now of the ultimate result of your scheme, and it is of that which I am thinking now. In the long run it might be better for Europe and the world that this war should be fought to a finish.’

  ‘But, good God, Colonel! Think of the appalling sacrifice of human life involved! Such a sacrifice would be utterly pointless if, as an alternative to it, we could overthrow the Nazi Government. After all, this war is different from other wars in that we are fighting a political party, not a whole people.’

  Colonel Lacroix sighed. ‘There you are wrong, my friend.’

  As the Colonel paused Gregory said: ‘You consider, then, that Hitler and his crew are no better and no worse than other Germans?’

  ‘I do not say that, but I do say that Hitler achieved power only because he was the type of man that the German people wanted. His theories of Aryanism appealed to their narrow race-consciousness. Whereas France and Britain have always given their hospitality and protection to reputable folk of every race and colour the Germans enjoyed suppressing the Jews and other non-Aryan peoples. The easy, bloodless victories which Hitler gave them over the Saar, Austria and Czechoslovakia appealed to their vanity and stimulated their ambition to dominate other races. Their campaign against Poland has been carried out with a ruthlessness scarcely believable in an allegedly civilised people. It is true that Hitler ordered the attack but it was the German people, representatives of every class and community dressed in field-grey uniforms, who performed the individual acts of violence against Polish civilians, including women and children.’

  ‘What’s the solution, then?’ Gregory inquired. ‘You say that it won’t be sufficient to overthrow the Nazi when we’re victorious, but we can’t butcher or imprison a nation of eighty-five million people.’

  Colonel Lacroix smiled. ‘No. That would be both inhumane and unnecessary. The root of the trouble is that as a race the Germans are very backward.

  ‘In England you had your revolution in the seventeenth century. Out of it there arose Oliver Cromwell, who suppressed individual liberty far more ruthlessly than had any of your kings, created a great Army and very nearly made you bankrupt in the process. You were very glad when your King Charles II came home to take over again. You had your revolution, but afterwards things readjusted themselves and as a nation of free people England has never looked back from that moment.

  ‘In France we had our revolution at the end of the eighteenth century. Out of it there arose Napoleon.’ Lacroix made a gesture of salute. The greatest military genius the world has ever known. But he, too, suppressed individual liberty in a most ruthless way, created a vast Army and nearly sent France bankrupt in the process. We were very glad when our king, Charles X, came home to take over again. We had had our revolution; afterwards things readjusted themselves and as a nation of free people France has never looked back from that moment.

  ‘The Germans had their revolution only at the conclusion of the Great War, early in the twentieth century. Out of it there arose Hitler, who has suppressed individual liberty far more ruthlessly than any of the German Emperors, has created a vast Army and has very nearly made Germany bankrupt in the process. We have therefore good historical precedents for hoping that when Hitler’s day is done things may readjust themselves in Germany and that the German people will at last develop a true appreciation of the value of individual liberty. Such an appreciation will alone make it possible for them to live happily and prosperously within their own borders, no longer desiring to threaten the freedom of their neighbours.’

  ‘Surely, then, the sooner we can get rid of Hitler the better?’

  ‘Of that I am not certain. As I have said, he has achieved his present position only because he symbolises the lust for power and desire for domination which are still inherent in the German masses. If he is too easily overthrown that spirit may not be killed at his fall and another Hitler may rise in a dozen years’ time. Britain and France would then have to light yet a third Great War for the preservation of their ideals. Germany has already had one lesson; her defeat of 1914-18. It may be necessary to give her several such lessons before her people come to realise that our code of ‘live and let live’ is better than their own crazy ambition to force their will upon others.

  ‘It is my business to look into the
future of France, and I am inclined to think, therefore, that if only we had some means of preventing its spreading to other countries it might be better not to conclude this war too speedily but to carry it on until Germany is beaten to her knees and every single German of this generation is forced to realise that bullying does not pay, and to teach that doctrine to his children. There would then be a real hope that the rising generations of Germans might choose for their rulers men of a different type—men sharing a greater, saner and more human outlook.’

  ‘Am I to take it, then,’ Gregory asked uneasily, ‘that you prefer not to give me your assistance now that you know the nature of my mission?’

  Lacroix shrugged. ‘First things must come first, and none of us can foresee the future. I was speaking only of possibilities. A long war might weaken both Germany and the Allies to such an extent that both sides would be in danger of falling an easy prey to the Bolsheviks afterwards. In any case it is our duty to spare our own generation all the suffering we can, so we should do our best to bring the war to a successful termination at the earliest possible moment. If you succeeded in your task it might bring about an internal upheaval causing Germany’s collapse and the setting up of a new Government with which the Allies would feel justified in discussing peace terms, and I will therefore do all in my power to help you. Tell me, what is the first move that you intend to make?’

  ‘I shall see Madame Dubois if she’s well enough, give her Archer’s warning for what it’s worth and try to persuade her to give me the names of some of the leaders of the Movement inside Germany.’

  ‘Good. As Madame Dubois is of the extreme Left she has no particular reason to be fond of the police. At times we have to check her activities, so I don’t think I can help you in persuading her to give you the information you require. If you succeed in getting anything of interest, though, ring up my secretary, Jules Villebonne, at this office, and he will give you an appointment to come and see me again. We shall then be able to decide whether I can help you on the next steps of your campaign.’

  Gregory stood up and shook the diminutive, monkey-faced Colonel warmly by the hand. ‘I can never say how grateful I am to you, sir, for giving me this chance,’ he said fervently. ‘I only hope that I shan’t disappoint you. May I take it that I’m discharged?’

  Colonel Lacroix smiled. ‘Without a stain upon your character. You will find Ribaud in Room 101 on the floor below this. He will attend to the necessary formalities and you will be able to establish yourself again in the comfort of the Saint Regis before luncheon.’

  Gregory found Ribaud, and the formalities of his release were soon concluded. As he drove back to the hotel after a fifteen-days’ absence he felt a new man. The latter days of his confinement had irked him sadly and liberty was doubly good now that he had the support of the little Colonel and the prospect of going straight into action again.

  Immediately he reached the Saint Regis he telephoned Madame Dubois’ flat. Collette answered the call but did not appear to recognise his voice, and as he did not wish to waste time by entering into long explanations he gave a false name and inquired whether Madame Dubois had yet returned home. Collette told him that Madame was still in the nursing-home but was expected back at the end of the week.

  He then rang up the nursing-home and asked if he might speak to Madame Dubois. The operator said that he could not, but that she would take a message. Gregory gave his proper name and put through an inquiry as to whether Madame Dubois would see him for a short time that afternoon on very important business. After a brief wait the reply came back. Madame would see him at four o’clock.

  Having settled himself again in the Saint Regis he considered for a moment whether he should telephone Collette and surprise her by asking her out to luncheon, but decided against it. She was a delightful and amusing little person but she lacked the qualities which would have aroused real interest in him.

  For Gregory beauty and gaiety were not enough. He demanded that any woman to whom he devoted himself should possess intellect in addition to these basic essentials. He thought, as he had often done during the past five weeks, of the beautiful Lady of the Limousine. Now there was a woman to lunch with whom he would have crossed Europe, and if there had not been a war on he would have taken the afternoon plane into Germany to try to find her.

  He wondered rather sadly if they would ever meet again, and had to confess to himself that it was very unlikely. By the time peace came he would have forgotten the way she had looked and the things she had said on their strange journey from Coblenz to Cologne, and even if he should chance to recall the memory of her, more recent matters would by then be absorbing his attention.

  Instead of telephoning Collette, he went to a florist’s and ordered a huge bunch of roses to be sent to her. On a card which was to go with them he wrote:

  ‘I’m just as English as you are French, although the authorities took a fortnight to satisfy themselves about me. But I’d hate you to think that I bore you any grudge for being the cause of my spending a rather dreary couple of weeks, and you showed extraordinary cleverness in protecting your mistress’s interests. I admire loyalty above everything, and so chere Collette, I salute you. Grégoire.’

  Having lingered until half-past three over a luncheon at the Cheval Pie, which was in most pleasant contrast to prison fare, he bought himself a few new ties at Sulka’s and then proceeded to Madame Dubois’ nursing-home, arriving there punctually at four o’clock.

  When he had given his name and Madame’s room had been telephoned he was asked to go straight up. As he knocked on the door a rich, deep voice called: ‘Entrez!’ He entered, to find that Madame Dubois was now out of bed and was lying, propped up with pillows, on a long sofa.

  A bandage still covered a portion of her head, partially concealing her silvery hair, but the cuts on her face could not have been serious as they were now perfectly healed. Gregory saw at once that he had to deal with a woman of very strongly marked personality. Her eyes were black and intelligent, her nose imperiously arched, her chin jutting and her mouth firm.

  As he entered, instead of greeting him as he had expected, she raised her eyebrows in blank surprise and said swiftly: ‘Monsieur, you have made a mistake, I think. You must have been directed to the wrong room.’

  He hesitated on the threshold. ‘But aren’t you Madame Dubois, then?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Well, I’m Gregory Sallust, and they told me downstairs that you’d see me. You gave me an appointment for this time, if you remember.’

  ‘What?’ she queried sharply, sitting up amongst her pillows. ‘You say you are Gregory Sallust? But you cannot be—at least, you are not the Gregory Sallust that I know.’

  The smile on Gregory’s lips faded. He shut the door behind him and advanced quickly into the room. ‘Madame,’ he said, ‘would you be kind enough to tell me how long you have been receiving visitors here?’

  ‘I have been seeing members of my family for some days, but it was not until the day before yesterday that they would allow me to receive some representatives of the Press. I was allowed to interview business visitors yesterday for the first time.’

  ‘Then you saw a man yesterday who called himself Gregory Sallust?’

  ‘I did.’ Her look of doubt and alarm suddenly deepened. ‘Do you insist that you are the real Gregory Sallust and that he was using your name?’

  ‘I do, Madame. Could you describe him to me?’

  ‘He was bigger than you; not exactly fat but plump-looking, with fair hair cut en brosse and a rather effeminate voice.’

  ‘God’s death!’ exclaimed Gregory. ‘Pardon me, Madame, but this is intensely serious. Do you know if he’s still in Paris?’

  ‘No. But you can find out; he was staying at the Hotel Crillon. I know that because he ‘phoned up several times asking for an interview and was eventually persuaded to leave his address so that the people here could telephone when I was well enough to see him.’

  �
�Thanks. Permit me.’ Gregory snatched up a telephone connected to a wall-plug by a long flex and snapped out: ‘Police! Urgent. Sûreté-Gênérale, Deuxième Bureau?

  He was connected almost instantly and asked at once for Jules Villebonne, secretary to Colonel Lacroix. A moment later Villebonne was on the line. Gregory gave his name and said:

  ‘Whatever Colonel Lacroix is doing, please interrupt him at once to tell him that Grauber, the Gestapo chief, is in Paris. He has been here for some days and has used my name to obtain an interview with Madame Dubois. He saw her yesterday, and was then staying at the Crillon. Will Colonel Lacroix send some of his men to the Crillon immediately. I’m going straight there and will meet them in the hall.’

  While he was speaking Madame Dubois had risen to her feet. He turned to see her standing behind him, swaying weakly, her face suddenly old and haggard.

  ‘What is this?’ she stammered. ‘A Gestapo man? Merciful God! What have I done? What have I done? I have been tricked, and people will pay with their lives for my stupidity.’

  Gregory put out a hand to steady her, and eased her down on to the sofa again. ‘Calm yourself, Madame, I beg,’ he soothed her. ‘The worst hasn’t happened yet. I can identify him whatever name he’s using there, and we shall be able to prevent his getting back to Germany with any information you gave him. I’ll let you know the moment I have any definite news for you.’

  Snatching up his hat, he dashed from the room. Out in the street he hailed a taxi and promised the driver a hundred francs if he would get him to the Crillon in ten minutes. The cab started with a violent jerk almost before he could leap in, but as he was jolted back into his seat he was already feeling for his gun. He took it out and clicked a bullet up from the magazine into the chamber. Grauber would certainly be armed and Gregory did not mean to give him a chance to shoot first. He did not mean the French police to shoot him, either. Grauber was his pigeon.

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