Contraband

      Sir Pellinore nodded sadly. 'That damnable war. It robbed me of my only son and countless dear fellows of both our generations. As I watched them go under one by one I thought that I would not have a single friend left in the world by the time it was over.'

      Gregory tactfully turned the conversation to the ordering of the meal and then said quietly: 'Mademoiselle Szenty tells me that she is now in business.'

      'Indeed?' Sir Pellinore looked up. 'Well, most of us have had to come to it, and perhaps that's not a bad thing in a way, but I hope the estates still remain in your family my dear. That beautiful old castle upon the River Theiss which I remember well. I went out to stay there once with the Count, your father, for the shooting. You have the finest partridge shooting in the world in Hungary.'

      'But how interesting,' she smiled, 'that you should know Schloss Scany. When were you there?'

      'Nineteen seven, no nineteen eight it must have been, I think.'

      'Ah, that was before I was born, so you would not have seen me, even as a baby. I remember it well, of course, although we had to leave it when I was nine.'

      'You have lost it then?'

      'Yes. All our money went in the deflation and for a little time my mother and I were almost paupers living in a back street in Pest.'

      'Your luck's turned since though I gather.' Gregory smiled. 'How did you come to go into business?'

      'It was through an old friend of my mother's. The man whom you saw me with at Deauville. He is very rich and very generous. He was in Budapest in 1922 and he took us from the slum where we were living, gave my mother a very nice allowance, and sent me to France and England to be educated. We owe him everything, and when he offered me a position in a French firm in which he was interested, a few years ago, I was very happy to take it.'

      Gregory nodded. Philanthropist seemed a strange role for Lord Gavin Fortescue but obviously the man had his reasons for displaying this unusual generosity. Even at the age of twelve or thirteen, Gregory thought, Sabine must’ have displayed promise of unusual beauty. Lord Gavin had evidently decided to invest a fraction of his surplus millions in tying the mother and daughter to him by bonds of gratitude with the idea that the girl would prove useful to him later on. Doubtless it was true that she had been glad to accept a well paid job in this Paris firm which Lord Gavin had acquired, with his usual farsightedness, in preparation for his vast smuggling campaign; probably soon after England went off gold and brought in Protection. Later, of course, she would have found out that the business was not all it appeared at first sight but her position would have made it practically impossible for her to quarrel with her benefactor.

      'Is your mother still alive?' he asked after a moment.

      She nodded. 'Yes, and she lives now, not as in her youth of course, with a great household, but in every comfort. While I was at school and finishing she had quite a pleasant little apartment in Buda, but since I have been in business, and my salary is a very generous one, I have been able to rent a nice house with a pretty garden for her just outside the city.'

      Gregory saw that his surmise had been correct. If Sabine quarrelled with Lord Gavin now her fine salary would cease immediately and the old lady, who doubtless adored her creature comforts, would be faced with poverty again.

      The lunch proved a cheerful and successful meal. Just before it was over Gregory smiled into Sabine's eyes and said: 'now, what for the afternoon? How would you like me to motor you down to Hampton Court or somewhere where we could have tea on the river?'

      'I am sorry,' she said gravely, 'but that is quite impossible. I have my business to attend to. A buyer from one of the big Kensington stores meets me at the Royal Palace Hotel at half past three.'

      'Put him off; like you did the other fellow.'

      'No, I cannot. It is the same man. When I telephoned before lunch I made this new appointment.'

      'How about tonight. Will you dine with me?'

      'No. Unfortunately I am engaged once more.'

      'Tomorrow then?'

      'I return to France. This is a flying visit only.'

      Gregory suppressed a grin, knowing that it was probably a flying visit in more senses than one. 'But I can't let you go so soon,' he protested. 'How about tea after you've seen this fellow?'

      'Yes. That I can manage if you wish.'

      'Fine. I'll run you down to the Royal Palace then and pick you up afterwards. Say four o’clock how would that do?'

      'Nicely, I t'ink. My business should not take more than half an hour.'

      They sat over their liqueurs for a little, then Sir Pellinore expressed his intention of leaving them, yet from his excuses made them both believe that he did it with regret.

      As they thanked him for the meal he took Sabine's hand and said with unusual seriousness: 'My dear, as an old friend of your father's I want you to extend the privilege of your friendship to me too. I live at number 64 Carlton House Terrace. Any time you are in England my house and my servants are entirely at your disposal so please do not hesitate too ring me up, either day or night, if I can be of any service to you.'

      A warm smile lit her limpid eyes. 'Such hospitality makes me think of Hungary. I mean, not all English people are so very kind to strangers.'

      'That is true I fear. Nevertheless we can prove good friends on occasion. Strangers here sometimes have little difficulties with the authorities and I am in the fortunate position of being able to smooth such things over A ;

      'I will not forget, Sir Pellinore,' she promised, and a few moments later she was seated beside Gregory in a taxi on the way to Kensington.

      He dropped her at the hotel and took the taxi on to his rooms in Gloucester Road. There he pressed a five pound note into Rudd's hand and told him to go out and buy flowers, fruit, cakes and all things requisite to entertain a lady. 'And if you give away by so much as a blink of an eyelid that you've ever seen her before I'll wring your neck my lad,' he ended gaily.

      'It ain't the popsy we seen with old monkey face in that car on the Calais road, is it sir?' Rudd asked with quick interest.

      'It is, my boy, and you'll kindly refrain from referring to her as a popsy, unless you want to take a journey in a hearse.'

      'No offence, sir, but my! Ain't you the lucky one, and no bloomin' error. Think she'd like éclairs for 'er tea?'

      'Yes, éclairs and lots of other things. Go on now, get out and buy them. We'll be back in half an hour.'

      Gregory cast a hasty glance round the comfortable book lined room, straightened the cushions on the settee quite unnecessarily, and then dashed out to get his car.

      By four o'clock he was back again in it, outside the Royal Palace, ready to pick up Sabine.

      She did not keep him waiting long and soon appeared with a short tubby little man to whom she said goodbye on the pavement. Gregory studied his face carefully and felt quite sure that he would know him again; but the chances were that the fellow was some quite innocent buyer who had no idea whatsoever that he had just been purchasing a line of contraband.

      As soon as Sabine was in the car Gregory let in the clutch and headed west but a few hundred yards farther on he turned it, dexterously avoiding an omnibus, and shot down Gloucester Road.

      'Where are you taking me?' she asked, 'or is this a better way to avoid the traffic before we reach again the West End?'

      'I propose to give you tea in my rooms,' he smiled. 'Any objection?'