Codeword Golden Fleece (60 page)

‘Well, in a way,’ Richard confessed lamely. ‘But I wasn’t there, so Simon and Rex had better tell you what happened.’

‘Okay,’ said Rex, taking the plunge. ‘I’ll give you everything up to the time I left the party, then Simon can carry on from there.’

While they ate their
hors d’œuvre
and fish Rex talked between mouthfuls, giving a detailed story of the happenings after he, the Duke and Simon had parted from the girls and Richard on the train. He deliberately span out the account of how they had bought the Chrysler and old clothes, and of their interview with Teleuescu, in the hope that they might get through dinner before the point was reached when the hideous blow would have to be delivered; but by the time the pheasant was served he had finished telling of the attack on von Geisenheim and had to hand over to Simon.

The shrewd Simon had at once grasped Rex’s tactics and
followed suit, dwelling as long as possible on his own fears while he waited to rendezvous with the Duke outside the Cathedral on the following morning; but they had only just finished their bird when he came to the crucial point of the Duke setting him down from the taxi in front of the British Legation.

Suddenly Richard choked and pushed his chair back.

‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘but I’m feeling ill.’ And indeed he was looking as white as a sheet. Stretching out a hand, he took Marie Lou’s and added: ‘Come upstairs with me, darling—please.’

The two of them left the table and in silence went up in the lift. The moment the door of their private sitting-room had closed behind them, Marie Lou put her arms round his neck and said:

‘Richard—darling. What is it? You’ve had bad news of Grey-eyes, haven’t you? Is he—is he …?’

‘No. Well, yes; but we don’t know for certain. That’s the devil of it. We haven’t heard a thing about him since he was shot.’

‘I know,’ Marie Lou murmured. She was crying now but she showed no evidence of shock, as he had expected, and she hurried on: ‘Lucretia and I have been almost off our heads with worry ever since we heard. This waiting for news is simply killing us. But Jan will be back in two or three days now, and—’

‘Jan!’ gasped Richard, holding her away from him and staring into her tear-stained face. ‘But Jan was knocked down and killed in the street just before we arrived in Bucharest.’

She shook her head. ‘Knocked down, darling, but not killed.’

‘But Rex and Simon went to his funeral.’

‘No,’ she smiled through her tears. ‘There were two Polish officers run over in Bucharest that day. I remember thinking it funny at the time that the man at the British Legation should have told us that Jan had died from injuries to his head while Rex said that a lorry had gone right over his body. Both of them were taken to the same hospital. The muddle must have occurred because neither Rex nor Simon could speak Rumanian, and the doctor at the hospital spoke only a little French. It was the poor fellow who was run over by the lorry that Rex and Simon saw buried, while Jan was lying unconscious from wounds to his head.’

‘Good Lord!’ murmured Richard. ‘And to think we never knew a thing about this. No wonder Lucretia is looking so marvellous. Oh, I’m so glad for her.’

‘Yes, I think she was just slowly dying of a broken heart before.’

‘But you spoke of Jan “getting back”. He’s been here, then. How on earth did he know where you were?’

‘He saw Greyeyes in hospital. After Greyeyes was shot he was put into Jan’s ward.’

‘What! Greyeyes isn’t dead then! Oh, darling! darling! This is too wonderful to be true!’

Marie Lou’s great violet eyes clouded again. ‘We don’t know. That’s what’s so terrible. Jan spoke to him only for a moment, a few hours after he was brought in. He was so badly wounded that he fainted from the effort to speak. He got out of bed in the night to say something to Jan. That was absolute madness, of course, and he collapsed across Jan’s bed. Next day Greyeyes was moved to another ward, and they didn’t see one another again. But Jan got it from him that we were in Istanbul, and as soon as he could get permission from the Polish authorities he came to Turkey to find us. Greyeyes collapsed before he could give Jan the name of this hotel, so he couldn’t write or telegraph, and had to hunt for us when he got here. He only arrived the night before last and went straight back to Bucharest yesterday to find out if Greyeyes is recovering or—or if he has died of his wounds.’

Suddenly Marie Lou fell forward on Richard’s chest and burst into a fresh torrent of tears. He did his best to comfort her. When she had recovered a little she made up her face anew; then they decided to join the others downstairs.

Rex and Simon had meanwhile heard the same marvellous news of Jan from Lucretia. His head injuries had kept him in hospital for only ten days; then he had been evacuated from Rumania with many other Polish airmen under a scheme that had been agreed on by the Allies, and had been moved about a lot before he could secure permission to come to Turkey.

The three men related the later stages of their Odyssey right up to the checkmate that had been inflicted on them that morning. Such an ending depressed them all again, but the two girls loyally declared that few men could have done as much, and no one more. They had just struck a vein of incredibly bad luck, and Fate had held all the cards against them.

They talked on until midnight, filling in the gaps; then sought their beds, comforted greatly by their reunion after these many
days, but still in mortal fear of the news that Jan might bring about the Duke.

For the new arrivals the fact of de Richleau’s still having been able to stagger across a hospital ward the night after the shooting was stupendous; as from Simon’s account they had all feared that he had been shot dead outside the Legation.

Richard, the ever optimistic, felt convinced that as he had reached hospital alive, however bad his injuries, he would some how pull through. Rex agreed, recalling his splendid constitution and maintaining that, in spite of his age, he was tougher than any of them. Lucretia, who, as a nurse in Spain, had seen so much of blood and death, feared that his age would tell against him if later he had had to undergo any serious operation to remove the bullets that must have been in his body. Marie Lou had a tremendous belief in the power of the mind to overcome the ills of the flesh, and tried to comfort them with the thought that if any man could cheat death by the sheer will to live it was their beloved Greyeyes. But Simon, who had actually seen the four assassins firing at him, still felt that only a miracle could bring him back to them.

Clocks and watches seemed to remain almost motionless for them all during the next two days, then on the morning of Tuesday the 24th Lucretia received a telegram from Jan; it read:

‘INVALID NOW FIT TO TRAVEL AM LEAVING BUCHAREST WITH HIM TODAY HAVE AMBULANCE AT STATION TO MEET TRAIN ARRIVING SIX-THIRTY WEDNESDAY EVENING FONDEST LOVE.’

They could hardly contain themselves for joy and at once set about preparing for the Duke’s reception. The management of the ‘Pera Palace’ let them the Royal suite. They filled it with flowers and books and every conceivable thing that they could think of that de Richleau might like to have about him.

At six o’clock on the Wednesday they were all at the station. At half past the long train drew in. For a few frantic moments their eyes searched the crowded platform, then they caught sight of Jan’s square shoulders and stalwart back. Running towards him, they poured out a spate of questions.

Jan hugged Lucretia, then smiled round at them. ‘What a grand surprise for him that you should all be here! He has stood the journey well. I was terrified that he might have a haemorrhage, but he swore that he would die of boredom if he remained in
hospital any longer. He must not talk much yet, though, because he had two bullets through his lung.’

While he was speaking two attendants had been lifting a stretcher from the train. Under warm coverings the Duke lay on it. Only his head was visible, and round that there were white bandages. His face was very pale, and his aquiline nose stood out from it, seeming thinner than ever; but his grey eyes were as full of animation as they had ever been, and his smile was wonderful to behold as he saw himself surrounded by all his friends, and the two girls stooped to kiss him, laying great bunches of stephanotis and dahlias on the stretcher.

‘What a reception!’ he murmured. ‘To see you all safe and well does me more good than could all the doctors in Christendom.’

At the ‘Pera Palace’ an English doctor and nurse, whom Simon had secured the previous day, were waiting to put the invalid to bed. Half an hour later the doctor reported to the rest of the party on his condition.

‘He must be kept very quiet for a bit,’ he said. ‘Two bullets had to be removed from his right lung, but he should be all right now with careful nursing. Fortunately all his wounds were in the upper part of his body. A third bullet seared his scalp, a fourth took a piece out of his right ear, a fifth went through his right forearm, fracturing the bone, and a sixth got him in the fleshy part of his shoulder; but it is five weeks now since he sustained all these injuries and the arm was well set by the Rumanians, so it is only his lung that we still have to keep an eye on.’

‘May we see him tonight?’ asked Richard.

‘Yes. But I think you should limit your visit to five minutes. He needs rest after his journey. So please don’t excite him or let him talk much.’

De Richleau sent a message out by the nurse that, although he could not join them, he wished them to have a gala dinner in the sitting-room of his suite; so they celebrated there, and at his request the door of his bedroom was left ajar so that he could hear the voices of these younger people that he loved so dearly, and their laughter.

When they had finished dinner they went in to him.

Simon spoke first, as he sat down with a long, happy sigh. ‘Well, last time I saw you I never thought we’d meet again.’

The Duke’s firm, sensitive mouth curved into an amused smile.
‘I foxed them,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I knew I stood no chance against all those gunmen. Immediately I had shot the two who were trying to stop you I played Brer Rabbit, dropped my gun, hung half out of the taxi and pretended to be dead. Only two of those brutes continued to fire at me after that and the coach work of the taxi saved me from the worst. I’d slumped well down into it, so all of me but my head, shoulders and arm were well protected.’

‘Did you ever get the low-down on what happened to old von G.? asked Rex.

‘Yes. His head wounds were so severe that as soon as he could be moved he was sent back to Germany for special treatment. I imagine he is still too ill to have preferred any charge against us. Anyhow, the fear that he might was one of the reasons why I was so devilish anxious to get out of Rumania.’

‘Didn’t the Rumanians make trouble about your having pinched that taxi though; and having caused a riot in which several people were killed?’ Richard enquired.

De Richleau smiled again. ‘After they had operated on my lung to remove the bullets I was transferred to the prison hospital. As you will have heard, the Prime Minister’s assassination provoked a nation-wide reaction against the Iron Guard. They were blamed for the riot, and several of them were executed for firing on the police.’

He paused a moment, and Marie Lou urged him not to talk any more that night, but he shook his head and went on:

‘I’m quite all right, provided I talk slowly. After a month in hospital the doctors considered that I was fit enough to answer a charge about the taxi. Sir Reginald Kent gave me every possible help, and the Rumanians behaved very decently. They put me in a private ward, and a magistrate came there with the lawyers and interpreters to enquire into the matter. He was a good chap, and I pleaded the extreme difficulty of getting to my own Legation except by some subterfuge. The case was heard in court the following day, the 21st I think. I was represented by a lawyer and sentenced in my absence to a month’s imprisonment. But I had already done my month in the prison hospital, so from last Saturday I was a free man again.’

Lucretia poured out for him the second glass from a half-bottle of champagne that the doctor had said that he might have, and supporting his head held it to his lips.

After he had drunk some of the wine, he said: ‘Now tell me
your news. On what date did you manage to inform London about the Golden Fleece?’

It was the question that they had all been dreading, and before dinner they had anxiously debated as to whether the shock of knowing that they had failed might not be very bad for him in his present state. The men were all anxious to unburden themselves about their tragic defeat, because they felt that they could never be at ease in his presence until they had confessed their failure, but they were equally anxious to carry the unpleasant burden until he was well, if knowledge of it was likely to do him the least harm. Lucretia, whose experience of what would or would not cause a serious setback to an invalid was much greater than that of any of the others, had relieved them of this responsibility by saying that there could be no danger in telling him, because he was only physically ill and his mind had in no way been affected. As the Duke had left the Golden Fleece with Simon it had been decided that he should break the news.

‘Er—’ he hesitated now and wriggled his neck. ‘Well, I’ll tell you. We got in a bit of a muddle. I was jugged myself for a fortnight for wearing that nun’s get-up. I’d passed the “Fleece” on to Rex, but he got into a muddle, too. He was in prison for even longer than I was. We’ll tell you the whole story when we’re allowed to get together for a proper session. Anyhow, we came up against one hitch after another and the damn’ thing was only good for thirty days.’

‘Do you mean,’ interrupted the Duke, ‘that you didn’t manage to get it out after all?’

‘We got it out,’ gulped Richard suddenly, ‘but we were beaten on the post. I went back to give what help I could, and Rex and Simon performed absolute marvels, but the luck was dead against us. We didn’t get through to Istanbul till the 21st, and when we produced the Golden Fleece at the Embassy they told us that, owing to the time it takes to operate secret cipher cables and so on, we’d missed the boat by a matter of hours.’