Conrad had realized that if he wanted to get a useful answer, he couldn’t just ask an innocent question.
‘I’m not sure, precisely. A friend of mine suggested that he might be dangerous in some way. To the Allied cause. Now, I know that Bedaux is working for the French Armaments Ministry, but I think it might be something more than that. Do you have any idea what that might be?’
Isobel looked blank. ‘No. But it doesn’t surprise me. He’s very clever and he has a finger in every pie.’
‘Who are his friends?’
‘He’s the kind of person who has heaps of friends,’ Isobel said. ‘Marshall would have a better idea of who the important ones are. But Mr Bedaux hasn’t been in Paris very much over the last couple of years. He arranged a trip for the Duke of Windsor to the States, and it all fell apart. The American unions hate Bedaux and they made a real stink. Bedaux took it rather badly, I believe. Had a breakdown. I think he went to Germany for a cure. Then he did something glamorous like driving across Africa from Cairo to Cape Town. Or was it the other way? He appeared back in Paris a month or so ago: I saw him at an American Embassy do the week before last at his chateau. He seemed in good spirits, although I didn’t talk to him myself.’
‘Does he still see the Duke of Windsor?’ Conrad asked. ‘I understand the duke and duchess got married there.’
‘I haven’t seen Bedaux with them for years,’ Isobel said. ‘Not since the duke went to Germany.’
‘You see the duke yourself?’ Conrad asked.
‘From time to time,’ said Isobel. ‘We have mutual friends among the Americans here.’
‘Do you happen to know where Bedaux is living?’ Conrad asked. ‘Somewhere in Paris, or does he stay at his chateau?’
‘No, he has leased Candé to the US Embassy for the war. I’m pretty sure he is staying at the Ritz.’ Isobel frowned. ‘Why are you so interested in him?’
‘A friend wanted to know.’
‘And I suppose I can’t ask what kind of friend?’
Conrad smiled and shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not.’
The frown deepened. Something didn’t sound right to her. ‘I thought Veronica said you were in the army?’
‘I am. I’m on leave.’
‘You fought for the Reds in Spain, didn’t you, Conrad?’
‘I fought for the government, yes.’
‘The communists?’
‘The socialists. There were communists there. Some of them shot at me; they killed two of my friends. If you are wondering whether the friend I was talking about is a communist, he isn’t.’
‘But is he British?’
It was a good question, and one Conrad wasn’t going to answer. ‘Look, I really must be going. I don’t want to take up any more of your morning. Lovely to see you, Isobel.’
With that he escaped, leaving behind a very suspicious sister-in-law.
Scheveningen
Millie and Constance sat in silence, drinking their tea in the grand ballroom of the Kurhaus. Even on a gloomy Tuesday in November, the brightly painted frieze around the dome that rose high above the ballroom floor hinted at the gaiety of summer dances.
Theo was late. Although Millie knew she should be calm and businesslike, her heart was racing. It had only been forty-eight hours since she had seen him, but it had seemed far too long. Constance had caught Millie’s mood, and was nervously silent in sympathy.
There he was! He looked so grave, so handsome as he approached them. Millie smiled broadly, but Theo’s expression was frozen as he sat down next to the women. ‘I have an answer for you,’ is all he said, and handed Millie an envelope.
‘What does it say?’ Millie asked.
‘It gives some idea of what a new German government might expect from the British and French in return for peace.’
‘Can I read it?’ said Millie. She had hoped to be something more than a mere messenger.
‘No,’ said Theo. ‘I’d rather you didn’t. But it doesn’t really matter. There’s no point now.’
‘Why not?’ said Millie. Theo was making no attempt to hide his anger.
‘Because it’s not going to happen. Hitler is not going to be deposed.’
‘Have they called it off?’
‘Yes,’ said Theo. ‘We have been ordered to burn all our plans. The generals are too cowardly to take action.’ Theo looked directly at Millie. ‘We’re stuck with him. We are all stuck with him.’
‘I’m sorry, Theo,’ Millie said. Unthinkingly she reached out her hand over the table. ‘I know how hard you have worked for that.’
Theo stared at her hand and made no effort to take it. Embarrassed, Millie withdrew it. ‘Theo? What is it?’
‘Did you see a man named Otto Langebrück yesterday? At a café in the Passage in The Hague?’
‘Y-yes,’ Millie stammered.
‘Do you know who he is?’
‘He works for the Foreign Ministry, doesn’t he, Constance?’
‘He works for Herr von Ribbentrop,’ Constance said.
‘He doesn’t work for the Foreign Ministry, he works in the Ribbentrop Büro, Ribbentrop’s private office.’
‘But Ribbentrop is the Foreign Minister, isn’t he?’ Millie said.
‘Yes. And he’s a dyed-in-the-wool Nazi. He’s one of Hitler’s biggest supporters. He’s not one of us; he’s one of them.’
‘From the point of view of those of us who want peace, it makes sense to speak to people in the current German government,’ Constance said. ‘You said yourself it now seems unlikely Hitler will be overthrown. In that case the British government will have to negotiate with the existing regime.’
‘You went behind my back, Millie.’
Looking at the expression of disappointment and anger on Theo’s face, Millie felt miserable. ‘I’m sorry, Theo, but we had to.’
‘You didn’t have to. You mean your father told you to.’
Millie felt tears springing to her eyes. She had to control them. She had to control them.
‘It was Sir Henry Alston’s idea,’ said Constance. ‘Sir Henry got to know Herr von Ribbentrop on bank business in Germany before the war.’
Millie was grateful for Constance’s support, but Theo seemed unimpressed.
‘I can see why you are upset, Herr von Hertenberg,’ said Constance. ‘But you must understand that this is too important for considerations of personalities to play a role. We are talking about war or peace here.’
‘By “considerations of personality”, you mean trust, don’t you?’ said Theo.
‘I trusted my father,’ said Millie.
Theo stared at her, his eyes cold. Then he looked up at the high dome above him. A grand piano played a waltz inappropriately in the background.
‘Come with me,’ Theo said to Millie. ‘Not you, Mrs Scott-Dunton, just Millie.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘Outside.’
‘I’ll get my coat.’
‘No you won’t,’ said Theo. ‘There is something I want to tell you. Come on.’
There was a cold wind outside, and Millie started shivering. Theo led her down some steps on to the beach and she hurried after him as he strode towards the waves crashing on to the beach.
He turned to her. His composure had gone, replaced by a mixture of pain and determination.
‘I’m sorry, Theo,’ Millie said, the tears streaming hot down her wind-bitten cheeks. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘We have to trust each other, Millie,’ Theo said. ‘People like you and me and Conrad are on the same side. The side of reason. The side of peace.’
‘I know. But so is my father. And Sir Henry Alston, and Constance. That’s why they got in touch with Herr Langebrück. To bring peace.’