Dennis Wheatley - Traitors' Gate

'Bless you, my dear.' Gregory laid a hand on her knee. 'But I'm afraid you may get into bad trouble for having done this.'

'Why should I? No one can prove that I knew all the time that you were an Englishman. I gave the impression of being just a spoilt young woman who was furious because she had been deprived of the man who was taking her out to dinner, and meant to make trouble in high places if he was not restored to her. There is nothing criminal about that.'

'No; I suppose not. All the same I…" The car had turned out of the Zrinyi Utcza and was heading for the Swing Bridge. Gregory broke off to ask quickly, 'Where are you taking me?'

'Home, of course,' Sabine replied lightly.

'You mustn't!' he exclaimed. 'Please stop here so that I can get out.'

'What! And leave you to go off on your own in that state! Is it likely?'

'All right. But don't cross the river yet. Turn along the Corso and pull up under the trees. If we don't handle this thing carefully we will both land in the soup. We simply must talk things over before you commit yourself any further.'

With evident reluctance, she did as he suggested. Meanwhile his thoughts were running swiftly. 'She has been marvellous. What a fool I was ever to think that she might hand me over to the police. It looks as if she has managed to keep herself in the clear, and for me to involve her now would be the height of ingratitude. I must leave her, and the sooner the better. That Jewish furrier, Leon Levianski, said he would hide me if I was hard pressed. Best thing I can do is to take advantage of his sporting offer, anyhow for the night.'

As Sabine pulled the car up, he took her hand, kissed it and said, 'Listen, my sweet. I hate to say it, and more than ever after what you've done for me; but this is goodbye. I'm red-hot now. Or anyway I will be once the Germans hear that I'm a free man again. You'll have quite enough to answer for tomorrow, without having me still on your hands. This day with you has been wonderful, but it has to end like Cinderella's at the ball. My fairy trappings as Commandant Etienne Tavenier are already falling in rags about me, so I've got to run out on you.'

'Say I agree, what will you do?' she asked quickly.

'I think I told you that I had one contact here, a Jewish merchant. He offered to conceal me for a bit if I got into trouble, and could reach his place without being followed. There should be no difficulty about my doing that. Fortunately I've plenty of money on me. I'll get him to buy me some peasant clothes, and leave the city on foot after dark tomorrow.'

'You seem to forget that you can't speak Hungarian.'

'Yes; that is a snag. Still, lots of the better class country people speak German.'

'True, but they speak Hungarian as well, and you don't. You will come under suspicion in the first village you stop at for the night.'

'Then I'll have to sleep in haystacks until the hue and cry dies down. After a few days it should be safe for me to board a train going towards the frontier.'

'What about a passport? You can't use the one you've got.'

'No; I'll have to leave the train before it reaches the border, and get across in some lonely spot at night.'

'Darling, it's no good!' she cried in desperate protest. 'You'll never make it! Living like a vagabond, yet without a word of Hungarian and no passport to produce if you're questioned, you are bound to run into trouble. Long before you reach the frontier you'll find yourself in some village lockup. It is certain that a description of you will be issued to all police stations. Someone will recognize you from it. Then you'll be hauled back to Budapest and handed over to the Germans.'

'That is taking the blackest view. I have been in worse spots before. I'll manage somehow.'

'But why inflict such hardship on yourself and take such a prolonged risk when there is an easy and quick way out?'

'If you know one, tell me of it.'

'It's quite simple. I planned it while on my way to the police station. I have an Italian chauffeur who is fairly near your age and colouring. He has been with me ever since I married Kelemen, and I am sure he will let me have his passport. You can dress up in his uniform and we'll make an early start on Sunday morning just as if I was setting off for Berlin three days earlier than I originally intended. We'll have ample time to reach a town on the Yugoslav frontier before nightfall, and you can drive me straight over it. Once you are safe you can put off the chauffeur's uniform and we can spend a little honeymoon together. Then… well, then I'll recross the frontier on my own at a different place and drive straight to Berlin.'

'Oh, my sweet!' he kissed her hand again. 'It is terribly gallant of you, and terribly tempting. It is a perfect plan, too; but I simply can't let you take such a risk.'

'Don't be silly. The risk is negligible. Ribb got me a diplomatic laissez-passer ; so that I should never be put to any inconvenience when crossing frontiers. That frees us from having to fill up any forms, customs' examinations, and formalities about currency. No official would dream of holding us up and questioning us once I've shown him that; so we won't even have to worry about my chauffeur's passport photograph not being very like you.'

'I suppose you are right.' All against his instinct Gregory weakened. After the hour of dread he had just been through, he would not have been human had he rejected outright this alluring prospect of escaping all sorts of difficulties and dangers by driving straight out of the country.

'Of course I'm right,' Sabine insisted, and leaned forward to press the self-starter.

'No; wait!' he caught her hand. 'What is to happen in the meantime?'

'You are coming home with me. You'll be perfectly safe there.'

'I shan't, and neither would you be. As it was you who secured my release and I drove off with you in your car, your house is the first place they'll come to when the balloon goes up in the morning.'

'Really, darling! I think that whack on the head must have temporarily deprived you of your wits. Is it likely that I shouldn't have realized that? I shall say that I was driving you back to the house to change your clothes when you said that having been knocked out had made you feel sick. So I stopped the car for you to get out. Then, to my amazement, instead of being sick, you ran off down a side turning; and I haven't the faintest idea what became of you afterwards. That is entirely in keeping with what would probably have happened if I had really believed you to be Tavenier.'

He nodded. 'Yes; that is just about what I should have done. Knowing that the Germans had got on to me, once you had got me out of prison I should have left you as quickly as I could. In fact, just as I meant to.'

'Exactly. And the very last place you would have let me take you to would have been my house; because they are certain to make enquiries there.'

'Yes, they probably would even if I had got out of prison by some other means. The odds are that they will find out that after I left the Vadaszkürt this afternoon the driver of the carriage took me and my luggage to your palace. That is the sort, of thing that worries me. What reason are you going to give them for having done that?'

'A perfectly straightforward one. I greeted you in front of a table full of people last night as an old friend, and mentioned that I had stayed with your aunt in Paris. I wished to return her hospitality, so asked you to stay for a few days, and you accepted. There is nothing wrong about that.'

Gregory had a feeling that there was somewhere, but another thought struck him and he asked, 'What about Ribb? Won't he kick up rough when he hears that you invited your ex-boyfriend, without his aunt, or a wife or chaperone of any kind, to come and stay with you?'