disturbs him. He calls himself Viennese. I should think no one has a better right.”
The door was opened. Marius Blute was announced. The girl welcomed him as an old friend. He shook hands with Mildenhall and drew up a chair.
“Things are a little quieter, I believe,” the newcomer reported. “They talk about parleys and all that sort of thing. I don’t believe in them. What has to come has to come. Much better to get it over.”
“You don’t mean that you want the Germans to take over Austria?” the girl asked.
“I do not mean it,” he replied, “but however much we may dislike it, they are going to do it. How is our beloved Chief?”
“Just escaped from my hands,” she confided. “I let him off as easily as possible but there were hundreds of papers to be signed. He’ll be down in a few minutes. I never know exactly how many people are dining but I am sure it’s a small party to-night so I think that we might have cocktails served.”
“A heavenly thought,” Blute declared, springing to his feet. “You see,” he added, turning to Mildenhall, “I know the ways of the house so I am allowed to ring the bell.”
Dr. and Mrs. Schwarz, evidently habitués, were announced.
“Dr. Schwarz,” Patricia Grey told Mildenhall, “is the President of the famous Benjamin Hospital. I’ll show you a photograph of it,” she added, rising to her feet. “Please come with me.”
She led him to the farther end of the room and unfastened a portfolio.
“You needn’t look at these,” she said. “You may-take my word for it that it is the most up-to-date hospital in Vienna and the entire cost is borne by Mr. Benjamin.”
“Your Chief is a Prince of Philanthropists,” Mildenhall declared. “I agree with you, though, I don’t want to see any photographs of hospitals. I want you to tell me about yourself.”
“I’m really a bank secretary,” she confided. “I happen to be pretty good at languages so they sent me over here to train the girls. Our banks are just a little more modern, you know, in New York. I worked at that for a year and then Mr. Benjamin made me his private secretary. I have a small suite of rooms in the house and when none of his married daughters or Mrs. Benjamin are here—he has crowds of relations, you know—I help him with his dinners. I wanted to say something to you, Mr. Mildenhall.”
“There are a great many things I should like to say to you,” the young man assured her.
She laughed up at him.
“That can come afterwards. Listen! Mr. Benjamin seems to have taken rather a fancy to you. He tells me that you travel all over Europe and that you know as much of what is going on as anyone. Tell me, do you think the Nazis who are coming into Vienna are going to be as wicked with the Jews as they were in Germany?”
Mildenhall looked at her thoughtfully. There was no doubt at all but that Patricia Grey was a very attractive young woman. She had a piquant face, soft grey-green eyes, red hair, a slender charming figure and a pleasant voice. Just now she was very serious.
“Shall I tell you just what I believe?” he asked.
“That’s what I want you to do,” she begged him earnestly.
“I think they’re going to be very bad,” he said. “No one knows how many millions the government of Germany has taken from the Jews. The Austrian Nazis have begun, as you know, to do the same thing here. When this country is taken into the Reich, as it certainly will be, I think that they will treat the Austrian Jews even worse than they have the German.”
“Why should they?” she asked. “The Jews are good citizens.”
“Yes, but the German Jews,” he told her, “were the great industrialists of the country. They were behind half the great commercial institutions. They were leading lights in nearly all the professions. Here the same condition of things exists, of course, but the very richest Jews of all are aristocrats. There are many old families in Vienna who have intermarried with Jews, and the Germany of to-day—I mean the government—hates the aristocrats. If I were you. Miss Patricia Grey, I should do all that I could to get Mr. Benjamin out of the country before it is too late.”
“And he loves his home here so much!” she lamented. “His pictures, his tapestry and his china—all those things are his happiness in life. He is one of the world’s greatest collectors, you know.”
“Everyone appreciates that,” Mildenhall admitted. “Still, you’ve asked for my advice. Miss Grey, and you have it. Get Mr. Benjamin out of this country as quickly as you can.”
“You’ll tell him what you think, if he asks you, won’t you?” she begged.
“It’s a promise.”
He glanced towards the door. Leopold Benjamin had made his appearance and there was a bustle of further new arrivals.
“You shall be rewarded,” Patricia told him, “for granting my request. I will now introduce you to the woman all Vienna is talking about.”
Mildenhall was standing quite still gazing towards the other end of the room.
“I think I know whom you mean.”
“Already?” she laughed.
“I met her a few nights ago—that is, if you mean the Baroness von Ballinstrode.”
“And you are a victim, I can see!”
“I met her at Victor’s restaurant,” he said a little evasively. “She was with the Archduke Karl Sebastian.”
Patricia caught at his arm. They were walking slowly towards the others.
“Don’t mention that to anyone,” she whispered. “It would be rather a faux pas here. Mr. Benjamin is devoted to the Archduke and he is also fond of the Archduchess.”
“I will remember,” Mildenhall promised.
She flitted away to greet the new arrivals. Mildenhall remained a little in the background, dividing his attention between the woman he admired and his host. In his simply cut dinner clothes Leopold Benjamin would have been an arresting figure anywhere. He was tall—over six feet—and very thin, but his carriage made his height unnoticeable. His features were excellent and the deep lines in his face detracted nothing from his good looks. His forehead was high, his grey hair brushed simply back. His expression was very grave in repose and it was evidently a very serious matter which he was discussing with the Baroness. Her fingers were resting upon his arm, those beautiful blue eyes were upturned to his. It was obvious that she was making a request of some sort which he was not wholly disposed to grant. He suddenly caught sight of Charles Mildenhall in the background, and beckoned to him with the air of one who welcomes a diversion.
“We will speak of these serious matters later, Baroness,” he said pleasantly. “I must introduce to you a young friend who is making a flying visit to Vienna. He belongs, I think, more to your world than do we of this sober household. Mr. Mildenhall,” he added, “the Baroness von Ballinstrode permits me to present you. Everything you wish to know about the gaiety of this fascinating city she can reveal.”
The
