The Black Baroness

'My hat!' exclaimed Gregory. 'That's a pretty picture! But d'you think that Mussolini really means business? He's been banging his little drum a lot again lately.'

Sir Pellinore shook his head. 'No; he's a cautious feller, and clever as a cartload of monkeys. He's exploiting our reverses in Norway now to try to blackmail us into lifting our blockade so that he can get some more old iron through for Hitler; but the one good thing which has come out of this Norwegian show is that it has enabled the Navy to inflict enormous damage on the German fleet. It's been so crippled that while maintaining the same ratio of safety-margin in the North Sea we've been able to despatch many units to strengthen our Mediterranean squadrons. As you'll see in tomorrow morning's papers, we have now massed a positive armada at Alexandria. That's our reply to the ice-cream hawker.

'Another thing; all the odds are in favour of the French down on their Italian frontier; not only are they better fighters than the Italians but the ground is to their advantage. The French have only one ridge of mountains to cross to get down into Italy, and in that ridge are situated the great hydro-electrical power stations which supply the whole industrial area of Turin and Milan. If the French captured or destroyed those generating plants Italy would be out of the war in a week. The Italians have a much harder row to hoe. They have three ridges of mountains to cross before they can get down into France proper, and even when they got there there's nothing vital that they could destroy which might seriously cripple the French war effort. No. I'm still convinced that Mussolini is only bluffing and hasn't the least intention of risking his own neck to help his gangster friend. The only possible case in which he might be tempted to send his waiters over the top would be if the Allies had suffered a major defeat and France was practically down and out. Then he might screw his courage up to play the part of the jackal, but not before.'

'I see. Well, let's hope that if Hitler does go into the Low Countries the politicians will not overrule the Generals and insist on our going into Belgium. In any case, it's obvious that we're not strong enough to defeat the German Army yet. Our game is to wait and let the Blockade do its work this winter, while we triple the size of our Army and Air Force so that we can launch a decisive offensive in the spring.'

'That's it. But Hitler is not the man to wait for our convenience and he may decide to go into Belgium and Holland any day, so the more information you can get the better. Erika and Kuporovsky will have a dozen interesting lines for you to follow, but to what sort of devilry they'll lead you, God in heaven only knows.'

'There's nothing special that you want me to keep my eyes open for while I'm out there, then?'

'No. Unless ... By Jove! That's an idea! Have you ever heard of the Black Baroness?'

'Yes,' said Gregory slowly. 'Kuporovitch mentioned her once in Oslo. Paula von Steinmetz received her instructions to move to Holland from someone who was referred to as "the Black Baroness", but he couldn't learn anything about her; and Gussy Langdon-Forbes mentioned the Black Baroness to me on one occasion when he was talking about German Fifth Column activities; but a bomb burst just at that moment and I forgot afterwards to ask him who she was.'

Sir Pellinore filled up the Kiimmel glasses. 'Her real name is La Baronne de Porte, and don't imagine that she's a coloured woman. She's French, as white as we are, and she used to be very beautiful; but as she is over fifty now she's a bit part-worn. She is a great friend of that traitor Bonnet, and she wields enormous influence with quite a number of people whose decisions may affect the lives of untold millions.'

'Queer,' muttered Gregory. 'I've never even heard of her.'

'That's hardly surprising, as she is one of those really clever women who prefer wielding great power in secret to receiving the public acclaim of the mob, and later, perhaps, hearing the same mob howling for their blood. I met her once and she has a dead-white face with jet-black eyes and hair. It may be from her eyes and hair that she gets her nickname; but I've an idea that it was given to her because she always works under cover in the same way as the old "Black Hand" which invariably struck in secret.

'Her husband, the Baron, was a millionaire financier, and you know how greatly the ruling caste in France has felt itself to be threatened by Communism in recent years. When Madame la Baronne became interested in politics her very able brain naturally sought some antidote and, not unnaturally, it turned to Fascism. She made many friends in high places in Italy, and later she was received at Berchtesgaden by the Fuehrer. Exactly what those two plotted together nobody knows, but it's a very curious thing that during the last few years whenever a woman has brought about the downfall of a European statesman with pro-Ally leanings the name of the Black Baroness has cropped up vaguely somewhere in the background of the story.'

'You think, then, that she may be the brains behind Hitler's secret weapon?'

'I don't know. I'm only certain of one thing—that they entered into some devil's pact. We have ample evidence that the Baronne would prefer to see a Hitler-dominated France in which she and her friends survived than a Communist France in which they would automatically go under. I suggest, therefore, that she may be Hitler's great whore mistress. She knows so many important figures on the European scene, and it would be easy for a woman of her brain to find out what their weaknesses are and the type of girl that they would be likely to fall for. If I'm right, she would then send very detailed instructions to Berlin, and the Gestapo would go through their whole list of beautiful harpies. When they had selected the one they considered most suitable the Baronne would take the girl under her wing for a time and so arrange matters that ample opportunity was given to her to ensnare the intended victim.'

'It sounds feasible,' Gregory agreed. 'Anyhow, I'll certainly keep a look-out for her.'

Far into the early morning hours these two cronies, so far apart in age yet so near in outlook and in spirit, discussed many matters of interest with unflagging enthusiasm. The bottle of old Kummel was empty and two beakers of champagne had followed it, when at last Gregory stood up to go. As he thanked his host he said: 'If I can manage to get on the track of the Black Baroness, what d'you wish me to do about it?'

Sir Pellinore shrugged. 'Need I go into details? Even if she does not control Hitler's secret weapon that woman is poison, Gregory. I know for a positive fact that she has been responsible for at least two suicides, and that while she is high in the councils of our Allies she is in reality hand in glove with the enemy. If she could be put out of action permanently it would be as great a victory as the destruction of a German Army Corps.'

Gregory did not speak for a minute; then he said: 'Are you suggesting that I should murder her?'

The elderly baronet's merry blue eyes suddenly went very cold and hard, as he replied quietly: 'We are at war. The age of chivalry, alas, is past. Since our leaders still fail to realise what Britain is up against it lies with people like you and me to save our country, however repulsive to our personal feelings the methods may be which we are forced to employ. The only instructions that I can give you are those which have made England great—whatever the age, whatever the weapons— "seek out and destroy the enemy".'