Erika was sorry to lose Piers. Not only was he an amusing companion who had shown her a nice degree of attention that tickled her vanity without embarrassing her, but his very presence had saved her from the less welcome attentions that were the penalty of her good looks whenever she travelled, or stayed in an hotel, alone.
However, he had done the job that he had been sent out to do; it was already the 9th of August, and Sir Pellinore wanted him to start on his own work by the end of the week. She had no possible reason for keeping him with her and, even had he been free to remain, she could not have taken him on her visit to Kurt, for her husband’s hackles would rise at once were he given the least reason to suppose that she had come there, not simply to arrange about their divorce, but also as the emissary of Germany’s enemies.
Having seen Piers off after breakfast, she ordered a car for six-thirty that evening to take her down to Steinach, then spent most of the day reading in the garden. For some little time the night before she had pondered over the best way to avoid anyone knowing about her visit. The Gestapo had eyes and ears in many places and paid all sorts of people to turn in apparently unimportant information. Even with her dyed hair, a description of her might ring a bell in the mind of some Gestapo man who knew her, and a report that she had been to see the recluse at the Villa Offenbach lead them straight to Kurt. Moreover, although she knew nothing about the Swiss divorce laws, she thought it possible that if any officious person gave information that there had been collusion it might quite well prevent the case going through.
Eventually she had decided she would take a car into Steinach, tell the chauffeur to put her down at the local hotel for dinner and pick her up again at eleven o’clock. After she had dined she could then slip out to make her visit, and return without him knowing that she had ever left the hotel.
The matter went according to plan. The August night was clear and warm; the hotel to which her driver took her was a pleasant little place with a vine-covered terrace, on which she dined, overlooking the lake. As she ate the excellent fresh trout which she had chosen from the menu, dusk fell and the stars came out. After dinner she sat for a little while in a covered loggia at the far end of the terrace, but a young Frenchman’s persistent attempts to pick her up gave her an excellent excuse for leaving it, and by nine o’clock she was making her way along the almost deserted street.
The chalet was about a quarter of a mile outside the town but, from Piers’ description, she had no difficulty in finding it. The blinds were drawn but the music from a radio echoed out over the lapping waters at the far side of the house. She opened the little wicket gate, stepped up to the porch and rang the bell.
The radio was switched off; there were footsteps in the hall and the door was opened by the tall, prematurely-aged-looking man with whom Piers had spoken.
“I have called to see the gentleman to whom this chalet is let,” said Erika cautiously.
“I’m afraid the Professor is working just now,” replied the man politely but firmly. “But I look after most things for him, so perhaps you could tell me your business?”
“Dr. Fallström is expecting me,” she said. “In fact, I have come all the way from England to see him.”
The man took a step backwards so that in the dim light from the hall he could see her face better, then he smiled slowly and stood aside. “Please to come in. I am sure that the Professor will be happy to receive you.”
The hall was a small square one with a door on either side, and beyond the staircase, one at its far end. Having closed the front door her guide led her to the one at the end, opened it, and followed her inside. The room Erika entered ran the whole width of the back of the house, and it flashed through her mind that the smaller ones at the front were probably the dining-room and kitchen. The chalet had only two storeys, so there would be three, or at the most four, bedrooms upstairs. This was evidently the principal living-room. It was comfortably though unimaginatively furnished, but its dark beams and wide fireplace gave it a pleasant homely air. Kurt was sitting in an armchair with an open book on his knees.
As she entered the room he started violently, then stood up and came over to kiss her hand. He was greyer than when she had seen him last and his face was more lined. She thought he looked ill and worried, but that was no matter for wonder.
“So you got my letter,” he began, then glanced at her dark hair and smiled. “For a moment I hardly recognised you.”
“That was just a precaution,” she smiled back. “I felt that for both our sakes I ought not to risk—” Breaking off, she turned her head slightly to indicate the other man, who was still standing impassively behind her.
“Oh, forgive me,” von Osterberg said quickly. “You don’t know each other, do you? Erika, this is Fritz Einholtz, my laboratory assistant. He felt the same way as I did and we escaped from Germany together, so we have no secrets from each other. Fritz, this is my wife, upon whose coming so much of our hopes depend.”
“I am honoured to meet the Frau Gräfin.” The tall man drew himself erect, clicked his heels in the approved German fashion and bowed sharply from the waist, as he kissed the hand that Erika extended to him.
“Let me take your fur, and please to sit down,” he went on quickly, and as he did the honours of the house she felt that he had much more life about him than his master. It was clear, however, that he had no intention of being left out of the marital reunion, since as soon as they had seated themselves he placed his hand on the back of another chair and said: “You permit?”
“This is our only sitting-room,” said von Osterberg hurriedly, “and Fritz is naturally as anxious as I am to learn if you can help us to get to South America, so you won’t mind if he remains with us, will you?”
“Of course not,” she agreed, politely; upon which Einholtz sat down, drew up his long legs so that he could rest his elbows on his knees, and regarded them with speculative interest.
“Did you have a good journey?” enquired the Count.
“Quite good, thanks,” Erika replied.
“I—er—feared that you might find some difficulty in getting here, now Switzerland is more or less cut off from England.”
She shook her head. “Normally I would have done, but you were right in your assumption that I still have some good friends over there, and they arranged matters for me.”
“You managed to get the money, then?” Fritz Einholtz put in quickly.
Erika gave him a slightly chilly glance. The war often made friends and bedfellows of masters and men these days, but she felt that was hardly sufficient justification for her husband’s laboratory assistant to question her on their private affairs.
Von Osterberg stepped into the breach. “We thought you might have difficulty about that too—at least, I did; but Fritz bet me twenty marks that you would manage to help us somehow.”
“It is here, in a Swiss bank, and I can draw it at any time,” she admitted.
“Thank you,” said her husband, but did not seem to be particularly pleased or excited, and after a moment she went on:
“Still, willing as I am to help you, Kurt, I think we should regard this as a business deal, and get matters more or less fixed up before I actually pay the money over. I take it that, as you wish to get away from Switzerland as soon as possible, your idea is that I should divorce you, so that you won’t have to appear in the Swiss courts later?”
The Count nodded. “Yes, I think that would be best.”
“Then you’ll have to go through the usual unsavoury business with some girl at an hotel.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” he said, slowly.
“Come now, Kurt,” Einholtz cut in again. “We have talked of this often and agreed that such a step will be necessary, so why show this reluctance to face matters now?”
“Yes, yes, of course!” von Osterberg replied a little testily. “It was only that such a business is naturally repugnant to me.”
“Well, the sooner you do it, the sooner I’ll be able to start proceedings and the sooner you’ll be able to get away,” said Erika practically.
“All right. Naturally there was no point in providing evidence until we knew that you were agreeable to do your part; but, now you’re here, I’ll go into Zurich and try to find an accommodating young woman over the weekend.”
“Have you yet found a solicitor here to act for you, Frau Gräfin?” Einholtz enquired.
“I haven’t actually seen him yet, but before I left London I obtained the address of one.”
“That is good. The preliminaries are now settled then. All you have to do for the moment is to let your husband have the name of the hotel at which you are staying, and when he returns from Zurich he will let you hear from him.”
“I’m at the Pension Julich, in St. Gall. I thought it better to stay at a small place as there was less likelihood of my running into anyone who might recognise me; and I am passing as a Swede, under the name of Madame Largerlöf.”
As Erika answered, she was wondering how best to prolong the conversation. She did not want to rush her fences in the matter of the secret form of warfare upon which they had been engaged, and any mention of the war might lead to that. On the other hand, there seemed little more to be said about the proposed divorce. Therefore, when her husband suddenly said to her: “Erika, you must be chilly after your walk, would you like some coffee?” she accepted at once.
Neither of the men made any move to rise and after a moment von Osterberg said: “Would you mind, Fritz?”
But the lanky Einholtz laughed and shook his head. “No, Kurt, not tonight. My coffee is not good enough for the Frau Gräfin. Yours is always so much better. She will have cause to thank me, I know, if I leave it to you.”
With a shrug of apparent good-nature, the Count got up and left them. For a few seconds they were silent, then Einholtz said:
“Did Kurt say anything in his letter to you of our reason for leaving Germany?”
“He implied that he disliked the work upon which he was engaged.” Erika replied cautiously. She was reluctant to admit what Kurt had said to any other German—even his assistant; and in any case, she did not wish to discuss the matter with Einholtz. She wanted to get Kurt on his own; but her companion was persistent.
“The possibilities of the thing upon which we were working were too horrible to contemplate,” he said. “I was Kurt’s assistant, you know; so I was in it up to my neck, just as much as he was. When we realised where our experiments must finally lead us, it was too much. We talked it over and decided to make a bolt for it together rather than go on.”
“Really!” She raised her eyebrows. “Kurt didn’t say much, but what little he did say, and the fact that he was in Switzerland, on the run from the Gestapo, made me think it must be something like that. Did you have much trouble in getting away?”
“Not much. We chose our time carefully and two days later arrived at Schloss Niederfels. Kurt felt certain he could trust the servants in his own home, and he was right. We felt, too, that that was the last place where the Nazis would look for us. After a little over a week there, we managed to get in touch with one of Kurt’s old friends, Freiherr von Lottingen—”
“Willi von Lottingen,” murmured Erika. “Yes, I remember him well.”
Einholtz nodded his nearly bald head. “That’s right. Then you may also remember that the Freiherr has property on the German side of the Bodensee, almost opposite us here. He arranged with his old steward to receive us at night and have us smuggled across in one of his boats.”
“I see. Of course, Schloss Niederfels can’t be much more than sixty miles from the north side of the lake, so the last stage of your journey was quite a short one.”
He gave her a sharp look. “Did Kurt mention to you, then, the place at which we were working?”
“No. It was what you said just now that gave me the impression that you came from some more distant part of Germany.”
“Ach so! Well, yes, we had to come from right up in the north; but it was getting away from the experimental station that was the most risky part of the business.” For a few minutes he described to her the difficulties of evading the check-ups at the camp so as to secure a clear twelve hours’ start before their absence would be discovered; then he began to shake his head again over the inhumanity of the method of warfare that the Nazis were preparing to wage.
Seeing that they were now properly launched, Erika asked as casually as she could: “What was this frightful thing upon which you were working?”
“A new gas,” he replied, without hesitation. “A poison gas, lighter than air. That, perhaps, does not mean much to you, Frau Gräfin, but it would revolutionise chemical warfare. Of course, we have known how to make such gases for years, but the problems have always been: (a) to produce one from a chemical that is easily obtainable, and the use of which in great quantities would not interfere seriously with the manufacture of any other basic war industry; (b) to devise a method of making it quickly and cheaply; (c) to work out safety measures which would protect our own people from its deadly effects, both during manufacture and when used in battle.”
“But the British have taken tremendous precautions against gas,” she objected. “Unlike us, everyone there has a gas-mask.”
“Ah!” he sighed. “But their masks will not protect them against this new gas; and by the time they find an antidote to it, hundreds of thousands of them will have died most horribly. Their great cities will, overnight, become charnel houses. The dead will be too many for the survivors in the country districts to come in and bury. In a few months chaos and anarchy will result. Even if they do not sue for peace their powers of resistance will be so weakened that Hitler will be able to launch an invasion that would prove a walk-over.”
“There is an antidote, then?” she asked, thinking how right Sir Pellinore had been in his guess as to this new type of warfare upon which Kurt had been working.
“Jawohl, counter measures can always be devised against every new weapon; but that takes time. And however quickly the British scientists got to work, new masks, or attachments to the present ones, would have to be manufactured by the million. It would be months before everyone in Britain could be issued with them; and in the meantime, city after city will become a terrible festering sore filled with the dead and untended dying. It was the thought of that which proved too much for Kurt and myself.”
“It’s too ghastly to think of,” she agreed. “But I suppose that if the British had particulars of this new gas they could take precautions beforehand?”
As she was speaking von Osterberg came in, carrying the coffee.
Einholtz’s eyes left her face, and he glanced quickly over his shoulder as though he had said too much and the Count would not approve of his talking so freely; but now they were on the subject Erika decided that she would not let it drop.
As her husband set the tray down beside her, she said: “Herr Einholtz has been telling me about your escape from Germany, Kurt, and the reason why you felt that you could not possibly go on with the terrible work they gave you to do there. I think you’re both very brave to have risked your lives rather than go on, but I wonder if that is quite enough?”
“What do you mean by that?” asked von Osterberg.
“I mean that others will be going on where you left off. At least I suppose so?”
“Yes. We were only two in a team of twenty highly qualified scientists and scores of assistants.”
“Then, your having left, won’t really make very much difference?”
“No,” he agreed, dully.
“So this ghastly thing will happen in a few months, or next year, anyway?”
“I suppose so.”
“Well, do you two feel quite happy about simply having washed your hands of it? I mean,” she hesitated, “oughtn’t you to do something to try to stop it?”
There was dead silence for a moment, then Einholtz said: “Are you suggesting that we should give such information as we have to the British?”
“Yes.” Erika leaned forward and began to speak very earnestly. “Please don’t think that because I took refuge from the Nazis there that I want our country to lose the war. Holding nearly all Europe, as she does now, Germany is in a far stronger position than Britain. Surely if she is capable of winning she can do it without resorting to such an incredibly barbarous method of warfare. If we win that way, we Germans will be hated for ever afterwards. Every race in the world will be against us and, sooner or later, they’ll all unite to destroy us.”
“I think you’re right,” said von Osterberg suddenly. “Now we can read the neutral papers and listen freely to the radio, it seems to me that things are moving in that direction already.”
“They are,” she agreed quickly. “And that’s entirely due to Hitler and his Nazis. But if he defeats the British with this new gas it will take very much longer to unseat him. The best hope for all decent Germans and the future of our country is that the war should go on until both sides are thoroughly fed up with it. Then there would be some hope of the Wehrmacht eventually breaking the Nazi stranglehold and securing a fair and just peace by negotiation.”
Einholtz nodded. “I believe you’re right about that, Frau Gräfin. But what would you have us do?”
“I feel sure I could arrange for you to return to England with me.”
Von Osterberg shook his head. “That I would never do; even if it were possible.”
“What is the alternative?” she asked. “You propose to go to South America. But how will you get on there? After your voyage is paid for, the remainder of the thousand pounds won’t keep you for very long; particularly if you want to buy new scientific equipment to go on with your old work. As a matter of fact I have a far bigger sum. I never told you about it but I had quite large investments in England before the war. That money is frozen at the moment, but this information you possess must be of such value to the British I feel certain that in exchange for it they would unfreeze my capital and allow me to make it over to you.”
“You are suggesting now that I should sell one of Germany’s war secrets,” her husband said, coldly, “and that, I would never do. You came here to arrange with me about a divorce. Let us stick to that and leave this other matter out of it.”
Erika finished her coffee and stood up. “All right then, Kurt,” she agreed quietly. She had seen a sudden gleam of cupidity in Einholtz’s eyes at the mention of her fortune, and thought it better not to pursue the matter further for the moment.
As he held her fur for her, she added: “I wish you’d both think about it, though; quite apart from any question of the money. It seems so illogical to have sacrificed your careers and jeopardised your lives because you disapprove of this terrible thing, and yet be unwilling to take any steps to prevent it happening.”
“I wish neither to think nor talk of it any more,” von Osterberg replied with a sudden burst of violent feeling. “And it would be better for you if you didn’t either.” Then he formally kissed her hand and Einholtz, maintaining a non-committal silence, showed her out into the night.
She got back to the hotel a quarter of an hour before her car was due to pick her up. The young Frenchman was still there and made another, rather half-hearted, attempt to get into conversation with her. She replied to him only in monosyllables and a few minutes later to his considerable disappointment, he saw her drive off.
On thinking matters over she decided that she had not done too badly. She had always expected that Kurt would, at first, refuse to even consider the proposal, but he seemed ill, worried and uncertain of himself; and people in such a condition are much more easily induced to alter their opinions than the vigorous and healthy. She had at least sown the idea in both his mind and in that of Einholtz that the logical outcome of their refusing to participate further in their hellish work should be to prevent its ever coming to fruition, and Einholtz had tacitly agreed with her.
At first, when he had shown no inclination to leave her alone with Kurt, she had feared that he would prove a serious stumbling-block; but the contrary had proved the case, and she felt a strong conviction that he would not need a great deal of persuading to do a deal on a financial basis. It was clear, too, that he was much the more virile partner of the two refugees and had acquired a strong influence over Kurt. That influence would have rather frightened her in other circumstances, but as things were it looked as if it might prove greatly to her advantage.
As far as the divorce was concerned, matters could hardly have gone better. Whatever else happened, Einholtz wanted to see that thousand pounds every bit as much as did Kurt, and she felt sure that he would bully his ex-master into going to Zurich and doing his stuff in the very near future. So it only remained for her now to wait in patience until events provided her with another opportunity to go further into the question of this abominable gas.
The opportunity presented itself much sooner than she expected. On the Saturday afternoon she was sitting in a corner of the small garden of the Pension, reading a book, and, on glancing up, saw Einholtz approaching her.
Having secured her address on the Wednesday night he had got in touch with the secret Gestapo headquarters in Zurich. They had their means of ascertaining who came and went at every hotel in Switzerland, arid on Thursday evening a report had reached him. Briefly it stated that a woman answering Erika’s description had arrived at the Pension Julich on the previous Monday, accompanied by a tall, fair, youngish man. Both of them passed themselves off as Swedes, but they had only been heard to speak German together and the man had a slight accent which suggested that he was possibly English. He had paid his bill and left her, giving no indication that he meant to return, on the Wednesday morning.
Einholtz had scowled as he read the flimsy. Erika was only the lesser fly. It was Gregory Sallust that his chief, Gruppenführer Grauber, was so anxious to catch in his web. Naturally, when Erika had appeared at the Villa Offenbach he had had high hopes that Gregory was waiting for her in the village, or at any rate, not far off; and now it seemed that he had simply accompanied her to St. Gall, remained there with her for two nights and then left her.
But on re-reading the message more carefully he saw that the description of Erika’s companion did not tally with that which had been given to him of Sallust. The big fly they were out to catch was not fair-haired, neither was he particularly young or tall, and it was known that he spoke German like a native. However, there was one thing about which Einholtz felt certain. The man had accompanied Erika to act as an advance guard, to make a reconnaisance of the Villa Offenbach before she went there, in case it was a trap. He would have done that the day after their arrival. That would be Tuesday. Of course, the tall, fair, young man who had said he was an artist and asked if there was a room to let in the Villa.
As Einholtz tied that up he smiled with grim satisfaction. Grauber had wanted him to take two or three other men with him on this job. His chief had thought that von Osterberg might prove too much for him alone, and that once on neutral soil without a full-time guard there was too much risk of the Count escaping. But Einholtz had persuaded him that to have a squad of their thugs kicking their heels about the place, probably for weeks on end, would be certain to give the show away, and had undertaken to be personally responsible for their stool pigeon. It was now proved how right he had been about that, and von Osterberg had made no attempt at a get-away. There was very little chance of his doing so, either, Einholtz felt, as long as he did not allow him to see anyone alone and handcuffed him by the ankle to his bed each night, and whenever he had to go out himself.
The Count had been pretty difficult at the time of Erika’s visit though. Of course, he had been hoping that she wouldn’t be able to raise the money, or that if she did, she wouldn’t be able to get to Switzerland with it. He had obviously tried that trick about the coffee in the hope of getting his wife on his own, so that he could tip her off. Then he had played his gaoler up badly over the secret weapon, and deliberately tried to head Erika off; instead of acting according to his instructions and, after showing a few scruples for form’s sake, agreeing to think it over.
It was on this account that Einholtz had decided to come over and see Erika that afternoon. He feared that she might have taken her husband’s blunt refusal to play as final. If that were the case she would probably report to London that there was no hope of getting any information and remain on in Switzerland only to secure her divorce. On no account must that be allowed to happen, as the secret weapon was the special bait designed to draw Gregory into the trap, and he could only be lured to the scene if she reported that together they would have some hope of obtaining it.
As she saw him coming across the small lawn she thought how much younger he looked with a hat on. It was a round, soft felt, with a small feather in the band, and he lifted it to her straight off his head, revealing the thin plastered swathe of hair across his bald scalp, instead of merely tilting it forward in front of his face as an Englishman would have done.
She did not like the look of Fritz Einholtz any better than when she had first seen him. Whatever his real social position might be she had a distinct feeling that he was not a nice person; but she felt sure that he had come to talk to her about the secret gas, so she smiled a greeting and motioned to a chair beside her.
“I hope you don’t mind this little social visit,” he began. “But I know how anxious you must be about your divorce and I thought you would like to know that Kurt has gone into Zurich for the weekend, in the hope of being able to give you the evidence you’ll need.”
“It was nice of you to come,” she said. “I’m so glad Kurt has made up his mind to go through with this absurd formality. He seemed very reluctant to do so the other night.”
Einholtz stretched out his long legs and thrust his thumbs into the armholes of his waistcoat with a self-satisfied air.
“As a matter of fact, he took quite a lot of persuading, but fortunately I have some little influence with him; in the end he usually comes round to my point of view. I’m very happy that in this case I should have been able to help you.”
“I’m terribly grateful,” Erika smiled. “But I wonder if he’s to be relied on now he is on his own. He is not the sort of man who has ever gone in for picking up girls, and he may funk it at the last moment.”
“Yes. I’m a bit afraid of that myself. I did think of going in with him to get him going, but the two of us sitting about in the cafés and dance places of a big city would more than double the risk of some Nazi police spy recognising us from our descriptions. Still, if he doesn’t come up to scratch this time, we’ll take a chance on that, and I’ll go in with him some time next week.”
“I don’t want you to run into danger on my account, but if the risk is not a great one I’d be awfully glad if you would.”
“It would be a pleasure to be of service to the Frau Gräfin, anu after all, the risk of our actually being captured is not very big,” Einholtz replied; and he smiled as he thought of the unfortunate von Osterberg, who instead of making a round of the brighter spots of Zurich that afternoon was, in fact, securely handcuffed to his bed.
There was a short silence, then Erika said: “I wonder if you have thought over what I was saying the other night?”
“You mean about our work? Yes, I have thought of that a lot, and I am sure there is a great deal to be said for your point of view. The thing that worries me most, though, is the thought that if we turned the information that we have over to the English we should have to give them a full scientific analysis of this gas. Unless we did that they could not take adequate precautions against it. But once they had our secret they might manufacture the gas themselves and use it against our German cities, and that would be even more horrible.”
Erika shook her head. “I’m certain the British would not do that.”
“Why are you certain? I think they would be very tempted to do so, if they felt that they could bring a victorious end to the war that way.”
“No. I’m certain they wouldn’t. The war has been in progress for very nearly two years now, and you have only to consider the record of our enemies. We Germans have made a shameless use of the Red Cross to cover military operations; we have sunk both enemy and neutral ships without warning; we have used civilians to screen our troops in battle and we have murdered them by the thousand to create panic and block roads. But the British have done none of these things. After all, we would never do such things either, if it were not for the Nazis. The British know that and they always say on their radio that it is the Nazis and all their beastliness that they are fighting. Anyhow, in spite of all provocation the British have kept their hands clean. Even if some of them would like to take such short cuts to inflicting defeats upon us they never do so, because it is against their policy. Their one hope lies in the sympathy which they have aroused in America for their so-called crusade against brutality and evil. They dare not risk losing that, and the use of any inhuman method of warfare would lose it for them in a week. That is why I am certain that, if they had it, the British would never use your gas.”
“Your argument is a strong one, Frau Gräfin,” Einholtz nodded. “Yes, I think you are right. The British would not use it except as a reprisal—if Germany used it first.”
“And perhaps not even then, if they had adequate protection from it. The British are often extraordinarily quixotic.”
“That too, is true. If then we can set our minds at rest on that point I feel we should consider the matter further. After all, what you said the other night about Kurt wishing to go on with his scientific experiments if we get to South America is so right. But to do so he would need a pretty big sum of money.”
Erika was quick to see the turn the conversation was taking. “I am so glad you agree with me. Those experiments of his are for the benefit of humanity, not its destruction. In the past I financed him for them pretty lavishly, and I am quite prepared to do so again.”
“That is very gracious, Frau Gräfin. I will confess that I am very interested in the matter too. You see, I also am a scientist, although I have not the genius or distinction of the Count, your husband. It would mean a great deal to me to be able to continue to help him with his work.”
As Einholtz made this announcement he feared for a moment that Erika might, from her association with von Osterberg in the past, know something of the Count’s peacetime experiments, and begin to talk of scientific matters to him. Since he had never been in a laboratory in his life, this might have proved extremely tricky ground; so, having made his point, he hurried on:
“However, to arrange this matter will not be easy.”
“You think my husband will prove obstinate?” Erika asked.
“That, I believe I can overcome. It will take a little time but I shall reason with him. I had in mind much more serious difficulties.”
“Such as—?” Erika prompted him.
He stared at his flashy amethyst ring for a moment, and said slowly: “As I have told you, the British could not take adequate precautions against this gas unless they had a proper scientific analysis of it. Such things one cannot carry in one’s head, and we have left our notes behind in Germany.”
Her heart sank. “Then—then if they are essential, that makes it impossible for us to pass on this vital information.”
“Not necessarily, Frau Gräfin. I do not mean that we left them at the experimental station. On an impulse of the moment we brought them with us as far as Schloss Niederfels; but it had not even occurred to either of us then that we might later consider it proper that we should pass them on. In fact, we were so greatly concerned at the thought of the harm which might be done to the German cause should they fall into the hands of the enemy that we decided that in no circumstances must we expose them to such a risk by taking them out of Germany. In consequence, before we left, we locked them up in the safe of Kurt’s private laboratory at the Castle.”
“I see,” she said slowly. “That means, then, that somebody would have to go back into Germany to get them?”
Einholtz nodded his semi-bald head up and down.
“That is the trouble. Of course it is not far. It could be done in a single night’s journey, and anyone could easily recross the lake from the Villa to Freiherr von Lottingen’s place on the other side with small risk of detection. But it needs a brave man to penetrate even so far into Nazi Germany.”
Again there was silence for a moment. Einholtz had now completed the baiting of the trap. Without appearing to look at Erika he watched her from beneath half lowered lids with carefully concealed eagerness, as he wondered if she would produce Gregory.
Knowing the impossibility of doing that, Erika’s thoughts were running on other lines. At length she said: “If you could induce Kurt to agree to our proposal, do you think we could persuade him to go back and collect these notes of his?”
He made a negative gesture with one of his bony hands. “I hate to say so, but Kurt was as nervous as a cat during the whole of our journey. I am certain that nothing would induce him to risk returning to Nazi-controlled territory.”
“But you are of a braver spirit,” she said, seizing the chance to use a little flattery. “Would you go?”
He appeared to hesitate, then replied: “No, I don’t think so.”
She caught at the latent possibility suggested by his hesitation, and said: “You are a scientist, Herr Einholtz, and no doubt have your own ambitions. If so they would be easier of achievement if you were no longer working under someone else. My money is my own to dispose of as I wish. Kurt will get his thousand pounds for the divorce. That is settled. But I want to prevent this terrible thing happening; not only for the sake of those wretched women and children in the slums of the British cities, but also because I am convinced that by so doing I should have served Germany well in the long run. I will pay to you ten thousand pounds if you will get for me the full analysis of this new poison gas.”
Again he appeared to hesitate, then he said: “No, I can’t do it. You see, the people on Kurt’s estate are loyal to him. They would not give away a von Osterberg. But I am not a von Osterberg. I should be alone with no one to depend on to give me help or shelter if things went temporarily wrong and I found that I couldn’t get back the same night after all. No, I am sorry, but the thought of Dachau frightens me too much. I will not risk it.”
He was on tenterhooks now. He felt that he had played his hand well and that, having arrived at an apparent impasse, she might at any moment say that she thought she knew a man who, given proper directions, would undertake this dangerous task. But she did not. Instead, she suddenly looked him squarely in the face and said quietly:
“I am a von Osterberg. I know the people at Niederfels; the indoor servants, the outdoor servants, and the tenants who live on the estate. They will be loyal to me. But there must be a lot of scientific papers in that safe, and I don’t know sufficient about such matters to be certain of picking out the right ones. If I arrange to give you an order for ten thousand pounds on the Federal Bank of Switzerland, cashable on our return, will you come with me to Schloss Niederfels?”
The thoughts sped like lightning through his brain. For some reason known only to herself she would not make use of Gregory Sallust in this business. But once she was inside Germany, if there was the least hope of getting her out, Sallust would come in to attempt her rescue. It was a cinch; and with careful handling, a fine chance to put ten thousand good British pounds into his pocket, into the bargain.
He bowed. “Frau Gräfin, I should be ashamed to refuse any proposal made by so courageous a lady. We will go back together into Germany.”