Gregory hid his inward satisfaction as he bowed his thanks. One really long, uninterrupted session with Goering was even better than several short ones between which the mood of his dynamic listener might change, and already he felt confident that he had the situation so well in hand that the unpleasant subject of shooting parties would not be raised again. He was conceited enough to look forward to the expression on Freddie, Charlton's face when the airman learned that Goering had actually abandoned his guests to entertain him privately and he hoped that Freddie was not feeling the suspense of his long wait too badly. If Goering was the sportsman Gregory believed him to be they would both be given a safe conduct out of Germany and, if Erika was still alive, be able to take her with them.
Champagne cocktails were brought by a white coated barman who mixed, them as required on a trolley that he had wheeled in. "Don't take any notice of that fellow," said Goering, tossing off the first, "but go on with your story. He's a deaf mute that's why I gave him his job."
In the next quarter of an hour Gregory got as far as his departure for Paris in search of Madame Dubois and they sank three champagne cocktails apiece; then a butler appeared and announced that His Excellency was served. Goering jumped up and with a purposeful stride led the way across the corridor to a small private dining room that was furnished in red and gold,
"What will you drink?" he asked at once. " Champagne or hock?"
"If I were dining with anyone else I'd say champagne but with you I would prefer to drink hock."
With a shrewd glance at his guest Goering said: "I see you're a connoisseur," and turning to the butler he ordered: "Have a couple of bottles of my Marcobrunner Cabinet 1900 sent up.'
"1900" murmured Gregory. "By Jove l I didn't know that there were any 1900 hocks still in existence."
Goering had already started on the hors d'oeuvre. "I have a little, and it's remarkable how these great wines last. The mailer ones would have turned to dish water years ago but this s still perfect marvellous."
I remember drinking some of the famous '68's when I was a boy and although they were then over forty years old they hadn't turned a hair. My father had some of the '68 Schloss Johannesburg."
"Beautiful-beautiful; I, too. remember drinking that classic vintage when I was a boy. There are no wines in the world to touch our great German wines."
"There I thoroughly agree with you," Gregory smiled, "and the proof of the pudding is in the eating. People talk about burgundy as the king of wines but I've never heard of anyone paying more than two pounds for a classic burgundy, yet one must pay six pounds a bottle if one wants the very finest hock."
The bulky Marshal preened himself as though he, instead of Charlemagne, was personally responsible for the creation of the great vineyards on the Rhine. "Six pounds he said, "I'd pay ten to anybody who could find me more of some of the rarities I've got."
When the bottles of Marcobrunner arrived Gregory noticed that they bore the supreme honour paid only to superlative products of the vineyards which is very rarely seen outside Germany or even in it gold foil under their capsules, covering the whole of their long necks. When his glass had been filled he sniffed the wine and sipped it slowly. It was a dark golden colour and almost as heavy as Tokay with that wonderful flavour of subdued richness that only great age can give to a wine which has been sweet as honey when young.
"Don't play with it, man drink it! " said Goering genially. "There's plenty more in the bottles." He took two big mouthfuls, rinsing it round his mouth with delight. "That's the way to get the real flavour of a wine."
"Since we have a bottle apiece I promise you I won't leave a sip in mine," Gregory assured him with a smile; "I was only prolonging this amazing treat. There's nothing I can say about the wine; it is beyond all praise."
"Good. Now, don't take any notice of the servants but go on with your story."
While the rich courses came and went Gregory described his second war time visit to Germany and the meal was finished before he had reached the point where Hans Foldar's cottage was attacked. The two bottles were now empty of their priceless contents and for the first time in many minutes Goering interrupted to ask
"Will you have cognac or kirsch?"
"Kirsch, thanks," said Gregory at once. He did not doubt that the Marshal's cognac was of the same regal quality as his hock but he knew that the Germans had the extraordinary habit of icing fine brandy which in his opinion entirely ruined its flavour and old kirsch being a liqueur in which rich Germans specialize he thought it a safer and more interesting bet.
"Right, then." Goering stood up. "We'll move back to the other room and drink our liqueurs there."
When they reached his splendid sanctum he took up a position in front of the mantelpiece with his legs splayed wide apart' and his hands thrust deep into his breeches pockets. "Go on," he said. "How did you manage to get that colonel's uniform and make your way back to Berlin?"
As Gregory told him he frowned when he heard of von Lutz's death, for he had known and liked the Baron; but he laughed uproariously when he heard how Ober Lieutenant Wentsich and Major Putzleiger had assisted in getting the fugitives safely out of the district in which they were being hunted.
"And now," said Gregory when he had finished his story, "as
Erika is such an old friend of yours I feel sure you must know what has happened to her. Is she alive or dead?" "Alive."
"Thank God for that. Is she in prison?"
"No." Goering grinned. "Directly the Putsch failed she had the impudence to come straight to me. I ought to have had her shot she deserved it; but you know what she is she talked me into getting her safely out of the country to Finland. She has relatives living in Helsinki the von Kobenthals."
"You did? Well done! I had an idea that she'd come to you and I felt certain that if she did you'd help her."
"Why? There'd have been hell to pay if theFührer
had heard that I let her go. And think of the capital that might have been made out of such a story if Himmler or von Ribbentrop had got to hear of it Those who are not for us are against us. Death is their portion, and at my hands they get it; old friends or new it is all the same. The enemies of the Party are my enemies. She's an enemy of the Party and what induced me to spare her I can't think."
"I can. And it wasn't sentiment." The champagne cocktails, the potent old hock and the kirsch that he was drinking had given Gregory complete self confidence, so he added: "You've had too many of your old friends shot for anyone to believe that you would allow sentiment to sway you."
"What was it, then?"
"Your genius for statecraft. You still talk about the Party is though it were a single entity just as Stalin still talks of himself as a Communist, although he's nothing of the kind. You now as well as I do that there are now two Parties in Germany. you, von Raeder and the Generals are now at daggers drawn with von Ribbentrop, Himmler and the pro Russians; while Hitler, whose opinions are taken one day from one group and another day from the other, gradually shrinks into the background."
"Do you dare to insinuate that I am conspiring against myFührer?" Goering's big face was black and threatening.
"No. I believe that you are loyal to him but that circumstances are proving too strong for you. Every day Hitler becomes more and more of a cipher. While he sits there brooding in Berchtesgaden, constantly vacillating, utterly unable to make up his mind which of half a dozen policies he ought to follow whole heartedly, you have found yourself forced to take an ever
greater degree of power into your own hands."
Goering sighed. "There may be something in that, but I'm no traitor."