Thomas Ochiltree by Death Waltz in Vienna Read Free Book Online Page B

given precedence in war over winning, but that was an opinion he had always kept to himself.
    It was a long walk down the corridor to the colonel’s office, and as von Falkenburg heard his footsteps echo and felt his sword swing at his side, he wondered whether he wished it were shorter or longer still. Pfitzerheim was making small talk, and von Falkenburg said “indeed?” “really?” and “ah!” from time to time to conceal the fact that he was totally unable to follow what Pfitzerheim was talking about.
    Then the moment had come, and he was in front of the colonel, his heels snapping together, his white-gloved hand sweeping up to the peak of his black képi.
    The colonel sat behind his desk with a morose expression on his face that suggested indigestion, and really, von Falkenburg knew, indicated how much he wished that this troublesome captain would vanish in a puff of smoke.
    “Well, von Falkenburg, when I talked to Military Intelligence, they didn’t want to hear a word of this crazy suggestion of yours.”
    Did that mean it was death, then? Von Falkenburg felt his heart pound and the muscles in his legs twitch, although the latter might be due to the fact that the colonel had not told him to stand at ease. And was that because the colonel was about to pass what in effect was a death sentence on him, and felt he should be at attention to receive it, just as he would be at a court martial?
    The colonel stared at him in silence. Was what the colonel had just said all that he had to say? Was his life to be dismissed with one sentence like that? Good God, surely he deserved more than that, whatever the colonel thought of him.
    “They said it was outrageous for an accused criminal to try to make a deal like the one you suggested.”
    Somehow, von Falkenburg knew that the colonel was going to say something more: the one sentence more which would tell him of his fate.
    “Believe me, I had to argue hard for you.”
    Von Falkenburg let out his breath – which he suddenly realized he had been holding – with an audible sound. That phrase “I had to argue” which the colonel had just spoken implied that the arguing had been necessary to achieve a concession
that had finally been granted.
    “And in the end, I won them over.”
    So he had a week of life before him! A week with Helena, and perhaps – although it was the longest of shots – a chance to prove his innocence.
    “Thank you, Colonel, thank you,” von Falkenburg said, too overwhelmed in his relief for his gratitude to be diminished by the fact that the colonel had really been arguing with Military Intelligence on behalf of his own hopes of promotion rather than for von Falkenburg’s life as such.
    “Hmmmphhh,” the colonel said, shoving a piece of paper forward across the top of his desk.
    The sight of the paper brought von Falkenburg back to earth a good deal harder than he had hit it that time Resi’s saddle-girth had broken when he was out riding.
    The paper was, of course, the text of the confession that he had to sign. In his joy at hearing that he had been granted a week’s life, von Falkenburg had momentarily forgotten it. Just as he had forgotten that even a week, after all, finally comes to an end.
    “Did Major Becker draft this?” he asked as he read the statement.
    Von Falkenburg was not the least surprised to hear that the answer to that question was yes. The confession was written with a perverse, vindictive thoroughness that reminded him well of the major. Every incriminating document that von Falkenburg had seen was mentioned, and others as well.
    To see the monstrous lie set out in such exact and convincing detail made von Falkenburg’s skin crawl. It was utterly incredible that he, who had always served Emperor and army loyally, was going to have to put his name to such a document.
    Grimmest of all was the last sentence: “I further acknowledge that in seeking to conceal the above, I perjured my word of honor as a gentleman,