Codeword Golden Fleece by Dennis Wheatley Read Free Book Online Page B

Vienna in order to pick up two friends of mine—a Mr. and Mrs Eaton, who are staying there; but I have so much enjoyed Lubieszow that, if it were at all possible, I would like them to see it too. I was wondering if it would be asking too much for you to extend your hospitality to them for the weekend, then we could all go home together via Warsaw.’
    He saw her hesitation and, out of the corner of his eye, caught the swift, almost imperceptible, negative that Count Ignac flashed towards her by a sudden tightening of the muscles of his face. The Duke had known that they would be most unwilling to have additional strangers in the house while the conference was in progress, but he also knew that the Baroness was a snob; so, before she had time to reply, he went on smoothly:
    ‘She was a Princess de Blanqufort de Cantizanc Schulinoff before her marriage, and he is a Member of the British Parliament.’
    The latter part of the statement was a flat lie, as not only had Richard never entered Parliament, he had never even stood for it, and everything to do with politics bored him to tears. But de Richleau was a wily man, and he felt certain that the chance of entertaining a British M.P. would intrigue the Baroness, even if extending hospitality to a Russian Princess did not.
    As he expected, Count Ignac’s signals were ignored, and the Baroness smiled assent. ‘But of course, I should be delighted to put your friends up for the weekend, or for as long as they care to stay. Arrange it, please, Duke, and I shall look forward to their visit.’
    ‘A thousand thanks, Madame.’ He kissed her hand again. ‘If you will permit me I will go now and put through a call to Vienna.’
    It was barely half past nine, and the Duke put in a personal call for Richard at Sacher’s Hotel, where he knew the Eatons would be staying. The exchange could give him no informationabout delays, and, knowing that the lines must be greatly congested owing to the international crisis, he feared that he might not be able to get in touch with them that night; but at a quarter to eleven the call came through.
    De Richleau wasted no time on idle pleasantries, in case he was prematurely cut off; but, having made certain that Richard realised who had rung him up, and could hear clearly, he went straight to the point.
    ‘Uncle has taken a turn for the worse, and we doubt if he’ll last over the weekend. He’s been——’
    ‘Uncle!’ muttered Richard, having not the faintest idea what the Duke was talking about.
    ‘Yes,’ de Richleau hurried on. ‘He’s been asking for you and Marie Lou, and if you want to make certain of seeing him again you had better do your utmost to join us here by tomorrow night. I’ve looked up Bradshaw, and there is a train leaving Vienna at twenty minutes past midnight. It will get you into Warsaw at nine-thirty tomorrow morning. I’ll make arrangements to have a car meet you at the station, which will bring you out to Lubieszow. Then we’ll all return to England together on Monday. Is that all right?’
    As far as Richard was concerned it was anything but all right. He and Marie Lou had dined at ‘
Die Drei Hussaren
’ on
scampi
—those delicious Lilliputian river lobsters—cooked in cream, roast saddle of hare and
omelette au Kirsch
, washed down by a peach bola made from a bottle each of sparkling and still Hock; so they were feeling very well indeed and just going on to dance at Vienna’s most amusing ‘
Nacht Lokal
’—‘The Crooked Lantern’.
    Only the discovery that he was a little short of money had caused him to stop at Sacher’s for more on their way to the night club, and it had been the merest fluke that he had been at the hotel
caisse
when the Duke’s call came through. He was not unnaturally annoyed at being asked to abandon his pleasant evening for a hasty packing and a rush for a night express on which he had not even had a chance to reserve sleepers, but since the international crisis over Danzig