Evil in a Mask

by Dennis Wheatley

  It was at once obvious that they were not making love. On the contrary, they were quarrelling. The first words of Lisala’s which he caught were:

  ‘How can you expect wealthy men to frequent such a place? As I told you after I first saw it, I was greatly disappointed. You must at least do up the salon where visitors are received and take their refreshments.’

  The man replied, ‘The place was doing good business when I took it over; and, at the moment, I cannot afford to pay for expensive decorations.’

  Roger recognised the voice, but could not place its owner. Lisala resumed fretfully, ‘And the girls! Fat, frumpy German mädchen. What man of taste would wish to go to bed with such cattle?’

  ‘They are at least good strong animal material, and could satisfy a dozen men a night if called on to do so.’

  ‘That is not the point. They have no finesse. They have never been trained to pander to unusual tastes. What we need are some pretty young French girls.’

  It was obvious to Roger that they were discussing Lisala’s brothel, and that the man who was with her had put up the capital for it. In a surly voice, he retorted, ‘In cities like Mayence, it is impossible to procure the really attractive type of whore that you have in mind; and I am being ruined by the taxes, so have not the money to import them from abroad.’

  ‘Money,’ Lisala sighed. ‘If only this cursed war would end. My estates in Portugal are worth a great fortune. If I could but get even a small part of my revenues, I would renounce my status as a great lady and we’d run a bordello in Paris that would be the finest in the world.’

  ‘I am in much the same situation,’ the man replied. ‘Given peace I could bring over from England enough money to buy even the services of certain ladies of the Court known for their licentiousness; provided they were allowed, as you do, to disport themselves masked.’

  ‘How so?’ Lisala asked. ‘Methought all the money went to the young Earl, and he would see you in hell before providing you with a centime.’

  Roger drew in a sharp breath. The man with Lisala could only be Ulrich von Haugwitz. He, in turn, was speaking now.

  ‘No. Charles has a fine estate, White Knights Park, in Worcestershire, and also a mansion in Berkeley Square. But Georgina is very wealthy in her own right. She owns a great house named Stillwaters, near Ripley, and her old father is exceedingly rich. As she is an only child, when he dies his fortune, too, will come to her.’

  ‘Since you have no love for each other, are you not afraid that, at any time, she may leave you? She might escape to England and so deprive you of getting your hands on her money.’

  ‘She’ll not do that,’ von Haugwitz replied with conviction. ‘She pines for Charles, so would join him if she could. But, secretly, I have set a guard upon her. My steward, Big Karl, and his men, have orders to watch her closely and, should she attempt to escape from Langenstein, bring her back.’

  For a moment Lisala was silent, then she said, ‘Do you really believe that, when the war is over, she will go to England with you and tamely hand over her fortune? If so, you are more of a fool than I took you for.’

  ‘She may prove difficult, I agree. But by law she is my chattel, and all that she owns belongs to me.’

  ‘In law, yes. But I gathered that in England she has many powerful friends. They will not stand by and see you rob her of her wealth. To make certain of obtaining it, only one course is open to you.’

  ‘What is that?’

  ‘She might meet with an accident. Once she is dead, you will hold all the cards. She will not be there to dispute her fortune with you, and call on her friends to aid her. You would only have to go over and collect it.’

  Again there was a moment’s silence, then the Baron said, ‘That is indeed a thought. But it poses one great danger. As you have told me, it was that devil of a husband of yours who cheated me of Charles. He has been in love with Georgina since their childhood, and he is aware that there is no love lost between Georgina and me. Should he learn that she has met with a sudden death, there is a strong possibility that he will arrive at Langenstein and insist on being given full details of her end. He has a clever, subtle brain. To make away with a woman and leave no trace of how she died is by no means easy. Should he find me out, he would stop at nothing to avenge her death, and might well kill me.’

  ‘That is a danger, I agree,’ said Lisala thoughtfully. ‘And it must be guarded against. But when he returns from the mission he is on, could you not get him to visit Langenstein again, then arrange an accident which would put an end to both of them? As I’ve told you, he has threatened to kill me should it get out that I have taken a lover, and I believe he meant it; so I’d be glad to be rid of him once and for all. If both of us were free, we could marry and when the war ends, enjoy an enormous fortune between us.’

  The Baron laughed. ‘Such a thought is enchanting, and we’d make a perfect match. We have similar tastes and neither of us feels bound by the absurd conventions. Providing I can have you now and then, I have not the least objection to your taking other lovers; while you, I know, are of the opinion that a man who has numerous women becomes ever more expert in the art of love; and you think no worse of me because occasionally I prefer to caress a smooth-cheeked boy. I am at a loss, though, to think how, at one stroke, we can both regain our freedom.’

  ‘In that I cannot help you. Should you force a quarrel on de Breuc, he might kill you before you could kill him. And, in any case, your wife would remain immune. Poison I judge too dangerous. Doctors these days are far more knowledgeable than of old, and one would have to be called in. He might see symptoms in the bodies that would arouse his suspicions. No, I must leave it to you to devise some way in which we can rid ourselves of them.’

  There came another long pause in the conversation, then von Haugwitz exclaimed, ‘I think I have it! The stones of the battlements at the top of the tall tower have become loose from age. We could get them both up there. One good push from behind by me, the stones would give and de Breuc would go hurtling downwards. We’d throw her after him. Our story, that they had been leaning side by side on the battlement and it had given way, would not be questioned.’

  ‘Is it not possible that someone below would see us push them over?’

  ‘Only a stranger to the district, someone perhaps in a passing river boat, would stare up at the tower top. And if one did, he would be too far off to see clearly anything that happened there.’

  ‘What if one of them was not killed outright, and perhaps recovered, then sought to be avenged on us?’

  ‘Impossible. It is a sheer drop of nearly three hundred feet to the road below. People whose bodies have been smashed to pulp can tell no tales.’

  For some minutes there was silence, then Lisala yawned and said, ‘I am tired now, dear Ulrich; so let us sleep on it. But wake me and make love to me again before you leave in the morning.’

  Before they could put out their candles and the light from Roger’s room percolate into theirs through the partly-open door of the closet, he slipped out of it and closed his door behind him.

  His mind was in a whirl. As he thought of the peril that now threatened his beloved Georgina, he saw that his hands were trembling. Lisala he knew to be utterly unscrupulous, and that von Haugwitz should not be averse to killing him in revenge for his having deprived him of Charles was understandable. But that the Baron should calmly have agreed, at Lisala’s first suggestion, to murder his wife in order to make certain of getting hold of her fortune, filled Roger with rage and horror.

  On a sudden impulse, he took two steps towards his sword, with the intention of bursting into the next room and, by slaying von Haugwitz there and then, put it forever out of his power to harm Georgina. With his hand already extended he pulled up. If he killed the Baron he would have to kill Lisala too, otherwise she would remain an eye-Witness to the deed. Now he would have had no qualms about putting an end to her. She was the embodied evil responsible for this vile plot; the Baron wa
s no more than an unprincipled lecher in whom she had found a willing accomplice.

  But there was no way of concealing that he had returned to Vienna that night. If he killed one or both of them, it would undoubtedly be assumed that he had found them in bed together and allowed his rage to get the better of him. He would have to be well away from Vienna before dawn; by midday he would be a hunted man and, if caught, pay for their deaths with his own life.

  Roger’s next thought was to set out at once and snatch Georgina from the Castle now destined to be her grave. His tiredness had fallen from him. In three days of hard riding, he could reach Langenstein. But what then? He well remembered Big Karl, the steward who was also chief of the small bodyguard that feudal privilege allowed the Baron to maintain—the twenty or more servants, grooms and gamekeepers who had been sent in pursuit of young Charles. Von Haugwitz had left orders that Georgina was to be prevented from leaving the Schloss. They would never allow Roger to take her away, and there were far too many of them for him to attempt to do so by force.

  But wait! The plotters intended to lure him there, so that they could stage the ‘fatal accident’ that would account for Georgina and himself at the same time. That would give him the chance to use his wits and, only in the last event, his sword. Georgina would be safe until they had him there with her. He must wait for the invitation, accept it; then, when inside the Schloss, plan with her some way in which they could escape together.

  He had forgotten to collect his nightshirt from the closet, so slipped naked into bed, and blew out the candles. Fatigue again engulfed him. In spite of the new peril of which he had just learned he would soon have to face, he fell asleep almost instantly.

  Next morning he slept late, but was downstairs before Lisala. When she appeared, he expressed mild surprise at seeing her, then spoke to her more pleasantly than he had for some months past. She reciprocated, asking where he had been. He told her of his journey to Paris, and that, arriving back late the previous night, he had not wished to get the servants out of bed so had got into his room by the window.

  After a while, she remarked casually, ‘An old friend of ours is now in Vienna, Ulrich von Haugwitz. I met him in the Kertnerstrasse yesterday and invited him to dine with me here this evening.’

  Roger raised a laugh. ‘Dine and sleep, you mean, eh? But I have given up worrying about how you amuse yourself, provided you keep your amours from the servants.’

  Smiling back at him, she said, ‘I am glad you are become more reasonable. And you know that you can count on my discretion. I had intended to have him take his leave at a fairly early hour; then, after the servants had gone to bed, for him to return and I’d let him in. But with you and I both in so small a house as this, an awkward situation might arise, so tonight I fear the poor man must put up with a disappointment.’

  When von Haugwitz arrived that evening, he looked slightly embarrassed on seeing Roger; but quickly expressed his pleasure at finding him there. To Roger’s enquiry about Georgina the Baron replied that she was in excellent health, and that he had left her at Langenstein only because the vintage had just started. It was essential that one of them should supervise it, and he had had to come to Vienna on a matter of urgent business.

  Half-way through the meal, Roger deliberately played into the hands of the plotters by remarking, ‘I have most pleasant memories of our stay at Langenstein, and hope that one day you will invite us to repeat it.’

  Von Haugwitz smiled. ‘My dear fellow, at any time you can get leave you would be most welcome; and a visit from you, would, I know, delight Georgina.’

  ‘It so happens that, having just completed a very tiring mission for the Emperor, I am on leave at the moment,’ Roger hazarded. ‘But the business for which you are here no doubt requires your continued presence in Vienna; so we must postpone this pleasure.’

  ‘On the contrary,’ the Baron declared. ‘My business here is completed. I leave for home tomorrow. Why should you and Lisala not accompany me?’

  Roger looked across at Lisala. She readily smiled her acquiescence, so the matter was settled.

  Early next morning Roger went into the city, where he called at an apothecary’s and bought a bottle containing a powerful concoction with a base of opium. It was guaranteed either to put anyone into a deep sleep or reduce to semi-consciousness soldiers when they were being operated upon for serious wounds. He had no definite plan for using the mixture, but felt that it would prove a valuable asset should circumstances arise in which drugging a person or animal could ensure his giving no trouble.

  By mid-morning the party was on its way, Lisala in the coach that Roger had hired for her when she had first arrived in Vienna, and the two men riding on either side of it. On the evening of the 20th they reached Schloss Langenstein. Georgina, overjoyed at this unexpected visit by Roger, did not seek to disguise how delighted she was; and, hiding her intense dislike of Lisala, she welcomed her warmly.

  Tired after their journey, they went early to bed, after an enjoyable supper. Roger felt certain that, as soon as all was quiet, Georgina would come to him; and a little before eleven o’clock, she slipped into his room.

  Their first fond embraces over, he told her of the abominable plot that was afoot to kill them both. After a moment she said:

  ‘ ’Tis truly horrifying that Ulrich should contemplate so evil a deed. But I am not altogether surprised now that he has fallen under the influence of Lisala. He is desperate short of money, owing to the brutal taxes the French have imposed on his estates in Prussia. They are eating into his fortune to such an extent that, unless the war ends soon, he will be reduced to living on a shoe-string.’

  ‘You mean unless it ends by the defeat of Napoleon and a general pacification, which would relieve Prussia of her burden. That is possible. It needs only one major victory by Austria to bring Prussia in. And, with the war in Spain also going against him, the Emperor would be finished. But until there is peace with England, Ulrich stands no chance of laying his hands on your money, whether you are alive or dead.’

  ‘True. He must know, too, that when peace does come, I shall at once return home and proceed to divorce him; so Lisala was right when she pointed out that his only chance of securing my fortune is to kill me, and so become the legal owner of it, while France and England are still at war.’

  ‘That is the nub of it,’ Roger agreed. ‘And he must do it soon. Otherwise, should Austria renew the war and bring about Napoleon’s fall, Ulrich would find that he has left it too late. As for myself, Lisala is eager to be rid of me, and she told Ulrich that it was I who got young Charles away from him. That was so severe a blow that he would derive great pleasure from pushing me over the battlements.’

  Georgina sighed, ‘Oh, my dear love. What are we to do?’

  ‘For us to attempt to leave openly is out of the question; and it is quite possible that Ulrich posts guards at night to prevent any attempt by you to slip away. Our best card is that they have no suspicion that we are aware of their intentions. The odds are that tomorrow we shall be invited to go up to the top of the tower to enjoy the view again. In no circumstances will we do so; but you can leave that to me. I shall propose that on Monday we all drive in to Frankfurt, on the plea that I have never seen that city, and would like to do so. That will be a lie. Actually I was there in ’95, in the time of the Directory, to borrow from the House of Rothschild, on behalf of the British Government, a huge sum with which to bribe the Republican General Pichegru to refrain from overwhelming the much smaller Austrian army. But that is beside the point.’

  ‘Frankfurt is quite a distance from Langenstein,’ Georgina remarked, ‘a good forty miles.’

  ‘No matter. Mayence is much nearer, but on the French side of the river. For that reason it is possible—as they know that we love each other and hate both of them—that Ulrich just might suspect that we have suddenly decided to run away together, and refuse to agree to my proposed expedition. On the other hand, Frankfurt is well inside G
erman territory. If we leave early, we should be there by midday. We shall dine there at an inn. Afterwards you and I will refuse to re-enter the coach for the return to Langenstein. In the midst of a crowded city, Ulrich could not force us to, and would not dare attack us. His only course would be to apply for a warrant to prevent you from leaving the country. Long before he could secure it, we should be safely across the frontier.’

  ‘Oh, Roger!’ Georgina turned over and threw her arms round his neck. ‘You are a most wondrous man, and I shall forever be grateful that all through my life, whenever I have been in danger, by some mysterious means you have been sent to protect me.’

  Next morning they all went out to see the gathering of the grapes. Although it was Sunday, once the vintage had started, not an hour of good weather could be lost in getting in the golden harvest. Scores of women, including those who were servants at the Castle, plucked the fruit, while men of every station humped the big panniers on their backs as soon as they were full, and tipped the contents into the waiting, large-wheeled carts.

  On their return, the Baron and his party passed through the Weinstube. The great hall was deserted, but at one end of it was a huge pile of grapes, weighing many tons; for the quantity that was picked each day always exceeded that which could be pressed at night. As they walked towards the door leading into the Schloss, Georgina and Roger glanced at each other, then at the now empty press in which Charles had lain hidden for close on two days.

  After the midday meal, von Haugwitz suggested that they should all ascend the tower to see the splendid view.

  Georgina felt herself going pale, and swiftly averted her eyes from her husband’s, lest he should see the fear in them. But Roger only laughed and shook his head.

  ‘No thank you, Herr Baron; you must excuse me. I am prone to vertigo; and last time I went up there I felt a terrible temptation to throw myself over. I’ve no mind to subject myself again to that type of mental agony.’

  Von Haugwitz hid his annoyance by simulating humour, and began to twit Roger, coming near to calling him a coward; but Roger was not to be drawn and stuck firmly to his refusal to make the ascent. He then suggested that next day they should all drive into Frankfurt.