The Black Baroness (28 page)

Gregory made a grimace. ‘Poor little devil. The police are probably right, though.’

‘What makes you think that, darling?’

‘Well, presumably she’s been under arrest since the tragedy occurred, so she must have dined with the Black Baroness beforehand. From what old Pellinore tells me, the Baroness has been hovering vaguely in the background of so many tragic “accidents” that I should think it’s quite on the cards that she blackmailed Susie into giving her aeroplane designer the poison with the promise that they would help her to fake things to look like suicide afterwards.’

‘Who is this Black Baroness woman, Gregory? Now I come to think of it I asked Susie, after she told me that she’d dined with her, how anyone had come by such a curious nickname. Susie just said that it was because she’s such a striking-looking woman with hair and eyes that are as black as pitch; but the word seems to have a much more sinister implication than that.’

‘She’s a Frenchwoman and her real name is the Baronne de Porte.’

‘The Baronne de Porte!’ Erika exclaimed. ‘But,
of course,
I know quite a lot about her.’

‘Then you’re better informed than I was up to three nights ago, my sweet.’

‘Darling, when I was selling armaments with Hugo Falkenstein it was my business to find out about such people. Her husband, the Baron, was a great industrialist and she married when she was quite young, but left him before she was twenty-four. She then went in for high finance, on her own account, and she has the Midas touch, so that in a few years she had amassed a great fortune; but that’s years and years ago. When making big money began to pall on her she started to take an interest in politics; perhaps because she was already an intimate friend of Paul Reynaud’s.’

‘Reynaud’s!’ Gregory repeated. ‘But, good God, he’s the new Premier of France.’

Erika shrugged. ‘Oh, her affair with him started when he was only a promising lawyer, way back in 1916. It must have burnt itself out long ago.’

‘Thank God for that.’

‘Later she travelled a lot,’ Erika went on, ‘and she often used to stay in Rome and Berlin. In both she made many friends and there is no doubt that she acquired pro-Fascist leanings. Just after Munich she became very intimate with Baudoin, the President of the
Banque d’ Indo-Chine,
and he is a person who wields enormous influence behind the scenes. Both of them, quite naturally, are rabid anti-Communists, but I’ve always believed that the Baronne was a patriotic Frenchwoman. It’s a grim thought that anyone like that should actually have gone to the length of tying up with the Nazis and be working for them now that her country is at war with Germany.’

‘Well, she is; and what you’ve just told me about Susie, together with the fact that the Baronne was staying with Degrelle, and that it was Degrelle who arranged for Paula to meet the Comte de Werbomont, seems to confirm Pellinore’s belief that it’s she who picks the most suitable girls for the chaps the Nazis want to get into their toils, and makes the necessary social arrangements so that each selected lovely can be thrown in the chappie’s path quite naturally. I’ve got to get on to this Baroness woman. D’you know if she’s still in Brussels?’

Erika shook her golden head. ‘No; I haven’t the least idea, but we’ll talk to Stefan about it tomorrow and see if he can find out anything.’

‘That’s it,’ Gregory agreed. ‘You had better arrange for him
to meet me somewhere for a quiet chat in the afternoon. One of the parks would probably be the best place. Then go out yourself so as to leave me free to slip away from my duties for an hour.’

‘I’ll telephone Stefan in the morning and tell him to meet me by the Tritton Fountain in the
Hare Leopold
at three o’clock; then you can turn up in my place.’

‘Good. I heard that he got on splendidly with old Sir Pellinore.’

‘Who could fail to do so?’ Erika laughed. ‘What an amazing person he is! Nowhere else in the world but England could have produced such a character. His education is appalling. He shouts at foreigners in English and takes it for granted that they will understand him. To hear him talk one would think that he knew nothing about anything at all except the idiosyncrasies of women, sport, food and drink; yet he has a flair for going straight to the root of any question and underneath it all such a shrewd brain that if he were pitted against Ribbentrop, Litvinov and Laval together I believe he’d have all three of them tied in knots. I thought him charming and I fell for him completely.’

Gregory grinned and stood up. ‘I can see that it was quite time for me to reappear on your horizon. And now, d’you know what I’m going to do to you? I’ll give you three guesses.’

With a mocking smile she put her arms round his neck. “How could I
possibly
guess, my sweet? But something tells me that I was a very rash woman to remain alone in my flat for the evening with such an attractive, forward butler.’

‘You’ve guessed it in one, angel,’ he laughed, and swinging her off her feet he carried her from the room.

At three o’clock the following afternoon Gregory was seated on the rim of the fountain in the
Parc Leopold,
reading an early edition of the evening paper. He noted that the British withdrawals in Norway were having a deplorable effect on the world press and that the little countries were, in consequence, getting into a worse state of jitters than ever through the fear that Germany would next attack one or other of them.

The Swedes had been in a state of unofficial mobilisation ever since the Germans had gone into Norway, nearly a month before, but they were still keeping up as bold a front as possible and shooting down any German planes that flew over their territory. Carol of Rumania was singing a very small song again
and promising Hitler further commercial advantages to the detriment of the Allies. Hungary, sandwiched between Italy and Germany, had now given up all attempt at playing one off against the other and was pretty obviously doing exactly as she was told by Berlin; while the Dutch and Belgians were calling up more and more classes of conscripts and now frantically building road barriers as a precaution against a sudden invasion. Yet a strong feeling still seemed to run through the people of both countries that if only they kept their heads and refrained from giving offence to Hitler he might yet spare them, as being more useful to him while going concerns from which he could draw considerable quantities of foodstuffs and other supplies than as conquered areas of devastated territory.

By the time Gregory had scanned the most important news items Kuporovitch put in an appearance. The Russian looked very well and prosperous, having, apparently, equipped himself with a new wardrobe since his arrival in Brussels.

‘Hullo!’ exclaimed Gregory. ‘You
are
looking a swell!’

Kuporovitch beamed. ‘You also. We might be different people from the two men who met in Kandalaksha. I like Brussels; it is much more pleasant for me than Oslo, because everybody here speaks French; it might almost be Paris—but not quite. But it is very expensive.’

‘Naturally,’ smiled Gregory, ‘if you get your clothes at the best tailors and stay at the Astoria.’

The Russian shrugged eloquently. ‘What would you? I had meant to live quietly on my savings, but everything here is a temptation to me. How can I resist having of the best and spending the money necessary to mix with elegant people when for a quarter of a century I have lived in the so-called workers’ paradise, where there is not even anyone interesting to talk to? I must not go on in this way, though, otherwise in a year or so I shall have spent all my money and have to take some filthy job. Being a General does not fit one for becoming a commercial traveller or a pen-pusher in an office.’

‘You needn’t worry, Stefan; you have a job already. I told you that when I got back to England I would somehow manage to refund any expenses to which you had been put on Erika’s account, but I intend to make good your own expenses as well and give you a fat cheque for the excellent work you’ve put in; so you can consider your savings as still intact and that you’ll have money in hand into the bargain.’

‘
Sacré Nom
! That is good news indeed; because this job is very different from the degrading occupations that I have been visualising for myself—and, let me tell you, the little Paula improves immensely upon acquaintance. She was born with a great aptitude for loving, but she is a far more accomplished
amoureuse
now that I have had a little time to train her. But tell me about yourself.’

For some twenty minutes Gregory gave a graphic outline of his doings, after which he asked what Kuporovitch knew of Madame de Porte, alias the Black Baroness.

The Russian had never heard of Madame de Porte, but he said that mentions of the Black Baroness had been made by Paula’s friends from time to time. He recalled that when Paula had broken the news to him that she was leaving Norway she had said: ‘I understand that the Black Baroness has a new job for me in Holland,’ and a Belgian politician, who had recently returned from a visit to France, had stated quite casually that after a dinner-party given by a French Cabinet Minister he had had a most interesting conversation on the political situation with the Black Baroness; but Kuporovitch could not recall definitely any other occasion upon which her name had cropped up. Without any grounds to justify the idea he had assumed that the woman referred to had acquired her nickname because she was a half-caste or Creole from one of the French African colonies or Martinique.

Gregory disabused him about that and asked him to tackle Paula on the subject as he wished to find out the Baroness’s present whereabouts with the minimum possible delay.

Afterwards they talked for a little about Paula’s set and it transpired that Kuporovitch was having the time of his life. In spite of war conditions which had to some extent affected the capital of neutral Belgium it was far less depressing than Oslo had been, and the vortex of this strange, unnatural gaiety while the outer world stood grimly to its arms was Hitler’s ‘Secret Weapon’. There were an even greater number of German, Austrian and Hungarian women, all picked for their looks and with ample funds at their disposal, who had big apartments in which night after night they gave extravagant private parties for their co-workers and the Belgians of their acquaintance. In addition to looking after her own special lover of the moment it was part of each girl’s job to get to know as many Belgians of good standing as possible and, since all the girls were of good
birth and living outwardly respectable lives, they were permeating all the higher strata of Brussels society, which enabled them to collect an immense amount of information for the Gestapo.

After an hour with Kuporovitch, Gregory went back to Erika’s flat to take up his duties as butler, and when the two maids were sound asleep that night he discussed with her plans for the following day.

They considered it would be unwise for them to risk being seen together about the city, so Gregory suggested that they should take a picnic lunch and eat it in the Park of Laeken, which is outside the capital and is to Brussels what Kew Gardens is to London; so on the following morning she told her maids that she would be out for the day and left the flat about eleven o’clock.

Gregory was in the pantry cleaning silver. Having given her a quarter of an hour’s start to buy their lunch at a delicatessen store he removed his baize apron and took down his black coat from its hook on the door.

The maid, Jacqueline, looked at him in surprise and remarked: ‘Where are you going at this time of day,
Monsieur
Pierre?’

‘Somewhere where unfortunately I cannot take a pretty girl like you,
Mademoiselle
Jacqueline,’ he replied mysteriously, ‘and I shall not be back until about six o’clock this evening.’

She preened herself at the compliment, but persisted: ‘
Madame
would not be pleased if she knew that you were neglecting your work during her absence to go out on your own affairs—and for the whole day too!’

‘But she will
not
know,’ he smiled mischievously, ‘because you, my pretty one, are not going to tell her and you are going to see to it for me that Cook does not tell her either.’

‘You take a great deal for granted,
Monsieur
Pierre.’

‘No. I am a psychologist and I can tell from your features that you are as kind-hearted as you are good-looking.’

She bridled again. ‘
Monsieur
Pierre, you are a flatterer! But what about your work? There’ll be a fine row if the dining-room’s not put ship-shape and the silver’s still uncleaned when
Madame
gets back.’

‘Yes. I might get the sack; and that would be most unfortunate, because I like it here. I am an artist, you see, and it makes a world of difference to me if I work in a place with a
girl like yourself who has good taste in hats.’

‘What do
you
know about
that, Monsieur
Pierre?’

‘I saw you come in the night before last,
Mademoiselle
Jacqueline, and I thought that little black affair you were wearing quite ravishing. It occurred to me this morning that you might like to buy yourself another.’

‘And why? Hats cannot be bought every day on a lady’s-maid’s wage,
Monsieur
Pierre, and, as a matter of fact, it was
Madame
who gave me the black one that I was wearing on Monday.’

‘How wise of
Madame
; I am sure that it suits you infinitely better than it suited her,’ lied Gregory.

‘Now you are being foolish,’ replied Jacqueline loyally. ‘As well as being a very kind lady,
Madame
is most beautiful—in fact, I do not think that there is anyone so beautiful in all Brussels.’

‘There!’ exclaimed Gregory. ‘What a tribute for one woman to pay another! I knew from the shape of your little nose, which turns up so attractively, that you were a girl with the most generous instincts. But this hat we were speaking of—a new one of your own choice. I had a little legacy not long ago from my poor old uncle, who was valet to a French marquis, so I am in funds.’ He produced a hundred-franc note and toyed with it a moment. I was wondering if I could persuade you to do my silver for me and tidy the dining-room and, as a very small return, buy yourself that little hat out of this?’