E. Phillips Oppenheim - 21 Greatest Spy Thrillers in One Premium Edition (Mystery & Espionage Series)

“Entirely my sentiments,” Blute murmured, gripping at his trousers.

“To be light-hearted again even for a moment—it is wonderful!” Patricia declared, patting her host’s hand.

“Another part of my anatomy is aiming at other things,” Blute grunted. “I used to think I would be a happy man to lose four inches around the waist. They have gone, but the road to happiness—”

“Not a word!” Patricia insisted. “Until dinner is over the past is dead. I am in Paradise and my guide is serving my food.”

“Lamb cutlets with Sauce Béarnaise ,” Blute murmured. “What a novelty but what a heavenly sauce!”

The soft delicate wines were drunk almost with reverence. The cutlets disappeared in almost miraculous fashion. Patricia looked up guiltily as she finished her second and found the waiter by her side. He had entered into the spirit of the feast, however, and he gave her no time to hesitate. He served her and passed on.

“It is my third cutlet,” she confessed. “They are so large, too, but oh, how delicious!”

“The Viennese is the only school of cookery,” Charles pronounced, “which condescends to acknowledge the grill. The French will have none of it.”

“As a hungry—let me throw away affectation and say a starving girl,” Patricia declared, “I am glad that we are in Vienna.”

Not a single serious word was spoken during that meal from beginning to end. Towards its conclusion there was a knock at the door and the housekeeper reappeared. She was followed by two girls carrying frocks and coats upon each arm. She smiled graciously upon the diners.

“I am too soon, I know,” she said. “I shall take my young ladies into the bedroom and await your convenience. I was fortunate enough to find my sister and my two nieces in our establishment. They were only too anxious to help.”

Charles rose to his feet and directed them to his bedroom.

“We will send you the young lady in a quarter-of-an-hour, Madame,” he promised. “Will you take your assistants in there and ring for the chambermaid if there is anything you want?”

“Of course, this is a dream!” Patricia laughed a little jerkily. “Please, Mr. Mildenhall—”

“Charles,” he interrupted.

“Charles, then,” she went on. “This really isn’t necessary. We can telephone to one of the big establishments for a gown and a hat and I can buy anything else I want to-morrow if you let me have a little money.”

“Can’t disappoint the dear old lady,” he said. “She’s knocked them all up and they’re quite excited about it. Don’t think those are all useless evening frocks. I particularly said a travelling gown, some tweeds and simple hats.”

“You are an angel!” she told him. “All the same—”

“Well?”

“I am not going to say anything more. I am too happy to protest. I will talk reasonably about the clothes and everything soon—not now.”

“I can quite see,” he said, “why Mr. Leopold Benjamin chose you for his perfect secretary. You have the practical mind.”

“Wait till I get it working,” she warned him. “You must remember that even Mr. Benjamin’s chosen secretary, in hell one moment and in heaven the next, is finding it a little difficult to keep her feet upon the ground. But please let me warn you of this. You may be King Cophetua himself, but I am only going to have from that woman one travelling gown and perhaps one other, two hats, and someone will have to get me a pair of shoes. I have crossed the Atlantic with less than that. The oddments—if you are going to let me have a little money—I know where to get myself.”

“We’ll deal with this soufflé ,” he suggested, “and come to terms later on and then I’ll show you whether I can be practical, too.”

He crossed the room and lifted the telephone receiver.

“Is Mr. Herodin in his room?” he asked.

“And speaking.”

“I need your help, Herodin,” Charles said. “Mildenhall speaking.”

“I will step up to your room at once, sir.”

“Even when we have finished dinner,” Charles remarked as he resumed his seat, “you two will be too exhausted to discuss plans seriously. I must tell you, however, that there is a serious situation to be faced. The news to-day seems to be better but I’m afraid it’s rather a mistake to build upon it. The Germans here all think that because the Führer has consented to receive a Polish envoy there will be no war. I think the people are wrong. That is all I want to say for the moment, but we have to bear it in mind. It may alter our plans.”

There was a knock at the door and Mr. Herodin entered.

“Herodin,” Charles said, “I will not introduce you to my two guests. It will leave you freer to answer any questions you may be asked. I want you to arrange, however, rooms in a strictly private part of your hotel for the young lady and a room also for the gentleman.”

Blute held up his hand.

“Forgive me, Mr. Mildenhall,” he begged. “Through all my misadventures, except for the time I was temporarily cut off from the world, otherwise in prison, I have spent my nights always in one place. I cannot break that rule. I have a very grave responsibility upon my shoulders. Your offer is one of kindness and I will admit that I am not fit to be seen upon the streets, but I am going to make a few little changes in my attire and I can easily reach the place where it is my duty to sleep.”

“That’s quite all right,” Charles agreed. “We’ll fix you up in the style of the perfect Viennese dandy to-morrow morning.”

“You are very kind,” Blute acknowledged, “but I still must leave and enter by the back door.”

“That,” Mr. Herodin observed with a smile, “can be arranged.”

“The young lady,” Charles said, “will be ready for her room in an hour’s time. Will you kindly arrange to have a maid here then to show her where it is and look after her?”

The hôtelier bowed.

“I quite understand, Mr. Mildenhall. I will send a trusted chambermaid here at the time you say and I will have a room in the quietest part of the hotel prepared. I shall be honoured to do anything I can for your guests.”

Charles nodded his acknowledgements. The manager bowed once more and left them.

“Of course, I hope you don’t think I am butting in too much,” Charles observed. “I cannot help treating you two like Babes in the Wood to-night! We will all be more normal to-morrow morning, perhaps.”

“You are being kindness itself,” Patricia declared. “Dear host,” she went on, taking his hand and holding it tightly, “if there is one thing that sometimes makes me shiver with joy, it is the continual reflection that I have not to return to the lodging house where I have spent the last two months. It costs—very little—but it is horrible. I am not used to fear, but I was afraid there.”

“Thank God you’ll never see the beastly place again, then!” Charles exclaimed.

In due course Charles escorted Patricia to the room where the housekeeper and her nieces were waiting. He returned to find Blute with a blissful expression on his face smoking a large cigar.

“The waiter insisted,” he apologized. “This is the first time I have smoked a cigar for five months. I cannot tell you the happiness.”

“Capital! How are you feeling now, Mr. Blute?”

“I am a man again,” the other declared. “What I ache for still is one thing and one thing only—a few serious words with you.”

“I was hoping you might,” was the quiet reply. “I will tell you why, or rather you have it in what I told you a few minutes ago. This country is on the threshold of war. I can tell you pretty well to an hour when that will come.”