CHAPTER XVI
Charles Mildenhall’s very pleasant salon, soon after nine o’clock on the following morning, resembled something between a tourists’ bureau and the enquiry office of a great newspaper. In a remote corner sat Blute with a map spread out before him, a directory and a heap of notepaper by his side. Down below in the square bells were ringing, military bands playing and large detachments of German troops who had taken part in the formal entry into Vienna marched through the streets for re-embarkation to Poland. The crowds were on the whole apathetic, but the German side of the Gestapo were doing their best to whip them into some sort of enthusiasm. Charles had established several contacts with his friends in London and elsewhere, and telegrams in various foreign languages were streaming in. Amongst others was a rather curt intimation from the Foreign Office in London that his return to that capital was greatly desired. Patricia, who was in her element amidst the stream of communications, handed him the British telegram, which was not in code, a little anxiously.
“I expected that,” he remarked, “but it can’t be helped. I’ve never taken a liberty with the authorities in my life and in this case it’s only a matter of days. Lascelles is really my senior and I have loaded him up with every scrap of information I had.”
“I do hope you won’t get into trouble,” she sighed. “It’s marvellous what you are doing for us.”
“My dear,” he assured her, “I’m enjoying it. When I think of last night I realize how empty life has seemed without an adventure of this sort…Come in, Mr. Herodin,” he called out as the manager appeared on the threshold. “Sorry to insist upon seeing you but it was necessary. Blute, you had better come and join in this consultation.”
Blute rose at once and seated himself at the round table. He exchanged greetings with the manager.
“Pretty busy, I expect,” Blute remarked.
“I am glad to get out of my office for a moment or two,” Herodin confessed.
He sank into the chair which Charles pointed out.
“In the first place,” the latter began, “as I gave you warning, I am going to drain you dry of every penny you can spare in German, English and American currencies.”
“I quite understand that, sir, and I have brought you something to be going on with,” Herodin declared. “In reichsmarks I can do you pretty well. Then I have some sterling and a certain amount of dollar currency.”
He drew some wads of notes from his pocket which he passed on to Patricia.
“I’ll just check the amounts,” she said. “Then I expect Mr. Mildenhall will have to give you a draft on account. No one can tell exactly what the exchange is likely to be—especially with war almost a certainty.”
“You think war is a certainty, Mr. Mildenhall?” Herodin asked anxiously.
“I am afraid so. In fact I know it. At the rate they’re going now Hitler’s troops will cross the frontier to-morrow. The Poles will appeal to England and France; England will declare war first and France will follow suit. Now, Mr. Herodin, you may wonder what I want all this money for. Well, I am not going to tell you!”
“I am not curious, sir,” Herodin assured his patron. “I told you that you should have all I could spare and, of course, I had about five hundred pounds’ balance on the amount you always leave with me. I think the young lady will find that I can spare altogether somewhere about three thousand pounds.”
“Marvellous!” Charles exclaimed. “What do you say, Blute?”
“We couldn’t possibly need more than that,” the latter declared. “We have some heavy expenses to face, but we shall get the whole of the money back again.”
“Well, Miss Grey will give you a receipt for this, Herodin,” Charles said. “I will also leave a cheque with you for about the amount in case anything happens to us. So far as you are concerned I don’t want you to think any more about this money. You might get into trouble with the Nazis if they knew that you were mixed up in my affairs. All that you know is that I wanted to get away from here in a hurry, I had a great many friends who were in the same predicament, I had a credit with you and you gave me what I asked for. The money is the great thing, of course, but there’s something else. I want every scrap of influence I can get with the railway here and some of this money that I am taking away from you is going to be used for what we call in the Secret Service: ‘quiet money.’ My friend Mr. Blute here knows a great deal about this. You’ve always done everything I wanted, of course, but I don’t wish to involve you in this matter. What about Joseph?”
“I really believe, sir,” the manager said impressively, “that Joseph could do even more than I could with the railway people. He knows exactly who is approachable and who is not. You want to get to the frontier, I suppose?”
“With a great deal of luggage,” Charles told him, “and, at the very latest, the day after to-morrow.”
Herodin looked grave.
“You must go before war is declared.”
“That is absolutely and entirely necessary,” Charles agreed. “As a matter of fact I expect we shall be in the train when war is declared, but we must be en route. Now, if I were you, Mr. Herodin, I would not have anything more to do with us. Send Joseph up. Drag him out of his office if you must, but I must have him here within ten minutes.”
“The people are standing ten or a dozen deep round his bureau,” the manager confided. “I’ll have to get him out at the back through my office.”
“You must do it, Herodin,” Charles insisted cheerfully. “Drag him out by those nice fat little ears of his, if you have to. I shall be down below very soon and I will bring in your cheque.”
“Very good, sir. By the by,” Herodin added, rising to his feet, “I forgot to mention it in all this excitement but there has been a terrible motor accident in the north. Four or five young people—all Americans, I believe—have lost their lives.”
Charles and Blute exchanged significant glances.
“Dear me, I’m very sorry to hear that,” the former remarked. “Racing down here to get out of Austria, I suppose.”
“Some of the roads coming south,” Herodin observed, “are in a very poor state just now and very dangerous…I’ll send Joseph right away, Mr. Mildenhall.”
“And could you send us up a paper with an account of the accident?” Blute asked eagerly. “I have some friends up north.”
“They’re selling the papers in the streets now, sir,” the manager declared. “I’ll get one and send it up at once.”
He departed, closing the door quietly behind him. Charles grinned as he took a cigarette from the box on the table and lit it.
“That’s quick work!” he exclaimed. “How did you manage it?”
“I’ve had the particulars of the accident written out for several months,” Blute confided. “When you went into
