The Black Baroness

By the time Gregory had scanned the most important news items Kuporovitch put in an appearance. The Russian looked very well and prosperous, having, apparently, equipped himself with a new wardrobe since his arrival in Brussels.

'Hullo!' exclaimed Gregory. 'You are looking a swell!'

Kuporovitch beamed. 'You also. We might be different people from the two men who met in Kandalaksha. I like Brussels; it is much more pleasant for me than Oslo, because everybody here speaks French; it might almost be Paris—but not quite. But it is very expensive.'

'Naturally,' smiled Gregory, 'if you get your clothes at the best tailors and stay at the Astoria.'

The Russian shrugged eloquently. 'What would you? I had meant to live quietly on my savings, but everything here is a temptation to me. How can I resist having of the best and spending the money necessary to mix with elegant people when for a quarter of a century I have lived in the so-called workers" paradise, where there is not even anyone interesting to talk to? I must not go on in this way, though, otherwise in a year or so I shall have spent all my money and have to take some filthy job. Being a General does not fit one for becoming a commercial traveller or a pen-pusher in an office.'

'You needn't worry, Stefan; you have a job already. I told you that when I got back to England I would somehow manage to refund any expenses to which you had been put on Erika's account, but I intend to make good your own expenses as well and give you a fat cheque for the excellent work you've put in; so you can consider your savings as still intact and that you'll have money in hand into the bargain.'

'Sacre Nom! That is good news indeed; because this job is very different from the degrading occupations that I have been visualising for myself—and, let me tell you, the little Paula improves immensely upon acquaintance. She was born with a great aptitude for loving, but she is a far more accomplished amoureuse now that I have had a little time to train her. But tell me about yourself.'

For some twenty minutes Gregory gave a graphic outline of his doings, after which he asked what Kuporovitch knew of Madame de Porte, alias the Black Baroness.

The Russian had never heard of Madame de Porte, but he said that mentions of the Black Baroness had been made by Paula's friends from time to time. He recalled that when Paula had broken the news to him that she was leaving Norway she had said: 'I understand that the Black Baroness has a new job for me in Holland,' and a Belgian politician, who had recently returned from a visit to France, had stated quite casually that after a dinner-party given by a French Cabinet Minister he had had a most interesting conversation on the political situation with the Black Baroness; but Kuporovitch could not recall definitely any other occasion upon which her name had cropped up. Without any grounds to justify the idea he had assumed that the woman referred to had acquired her nickname because she was a half-caste or Creole from one of the French African colonies or Martinique.

Gregory disabused him about that and asked him to tackle Paula on the subject as he wished to find out the Baroness's present whereabouts with the minimum possible delay.

Afterwards they talked for a little about Paula's set and it transpired that Kuporovitch was having the time of his life. In spite of war conditions which had to some extent affected the capital of neutral Belgium it was far gayer than Oslo had been, and the vortex of this strange, unnatural gaiety while the outer world stood grimly to its arms was Hitler's 'Secret Weapon'. There were an even greater number of German, Austrian and Hungarian women, all picked for their looks and with ample funds at their disposal, who had big apartments in which night after night they gave extravagant private parties for their co-workers and the Belgians of their acquaintance. In addition to looking after her own special lover of the moment it was part of each girl's job to get to know as many Belgians of good standing as possible and, since all the girls were of good birth and living outwardly respectable lives, they were permeating all the higher stratas of Brussels society, which enabled them to collect an immense amount of information for the Gestapo.

After an hour with Kuporovitch, Gregory went back to Erika's flat to take up his duties as butler, and when the two maids were sound asleep that night he discussed with her plans for the following day.

They considered it would be unwise for them to risk being seen together about the city, so Gregory suggested that they should take a picnic lunch and eat it in the Park of Laeken, which is outside the capital and is to Brussels what Kew Gardens is to London; so on the following morning she told her maids that she would be out for the day and left the flat about eleven o'clock.

Gregory was in the pantry cleaning silver. Having given her a quarter of an hour's start to buy their lunch at a delicatessen store he removed his baize apron and took down his black coat from its hook on the door.

The maid, Jacqueline, looked at him in surprise and remarked: 'Where are you going at this time of day, Monsieur Pierre?'

'Somewhere where unfortunately I cannot take a pretty girl like you, Mademoiselle Jacqueline,' he replied mysteriously, 'and I shall not be back until about six o'clock this evening.'

She preened herself at the compliment, but persisted: 'Madame would not be pleased if she knew that you were neglecting your work during her absence to go out on your own affairs—and for the whole day too!'

'But she will not know,' he smiled mischievously, 'because you, my pretty one, are not going to tell her and you are going to see to it for me that Cook does not tell her either.'

'You take a great deal for granted, Monsieur Pierre.'

'No. I am a psychologist and I can tell from your features that you are as kind-hearted as you are good-looking.'

She bridled again. 'Monsieur Pierre, you are a flatterer! But what about your work? There'll be a fine row if the dining-room's not put ship-shape and the silver's still uncleaned when Madame gets back.'

'Yes. I might get the sack; and that would be most unfortunate, because I like it here. I am an artist, you see, and it makes a world of difference to me if I work in a place with a girl like yourself who has good taste in hats.'

'What do you know about that, Monsieur Pierre?'

'I saw you come in the night before last, Mademoiselle Jacqueline, and I thought that little black affair you were wearing quite ravishing. It occurred to me this morning that you might like to buy yourself another.'

'And why? Hats cannot be bought every day on a lady's-maid's wage, Monsieur Pierre, and, as a matter of fact, it was Madame who gave me the black one that I was wearing on Monday.'

'How wise of Madame; I am sure that it suits you infinitely better than it suited her,' lied Gregory.

'Now you are being foolish,' replied Jacqueline loyally. 'As well as being a very kind lady, Madame is most beautiful—in fact, I do not think that there is anyone so beautiful in all Brussels.'