Then, on the morning of the 20th, came the first news of the British and Canadian landings at Dieppe. The German communique stated that, although many thousands of men and considerable numbers of tanks had got ashore on six beaches the preceding day, after nine hours of severe fighting, the invaders had been driven back into the sea with great loss in killed and prisoners.
Having no source but the German to go on, Gregory could only hope that the action had not proved as costly as reported. But he was certain in his own mind that it could have been only a reconnaissance in force, with no intention of trying for a permanent foothold. In any case, despite the victory claimed by the Germans, it strengthened his hand enormously, as it showed that the British had both the will and the ability to make such descents on the Continent; and, that being so, the Germans would not now dare risk withdrawing any considerable part of their forces which were holding the European coastline from Northern Norway to the Pyrenees.
In consequence, he was in excellent heart when, after breakfast, with the Count and the others who were in the plot, he left for the capital, the intention being that all of them should lunch at the Zapolya Palace on the Illona Utcza before the meeting.
Although termed a "Palace", it was actually one of a hundred or more similar mansions that crowned the slopes of Buda and was no larger, than the fine London houses of the British aristocracy; but, unlike them, it was built round a courtyard entered through a big semicircular arch and, from the terrace on its northeast side, had a magnificent view over the river. The Count pressed Gregory to stay there but he was anxious not to compromise Sir Pellinore's old friend more than was absolutely necessary, just in case one of the numerous people who were soon to be told about his mission gave him away; so he tactfully declined the offer and had his bags sent on to the Vadaszkürt.
After lunch they drove to the Nobles Club, or the Casino as it was often termed owing to the heavy gambling to which many of its members were addicted. As they went up the broad staircase Gregory was surprised to see in the place of honour at its top a large portrait in oils of King Edward VII.
Catching his glance Zapolya smiled at him and said:
"When Edward VII was Prince of Wales he came many times to Budapest and, as an honorary member of the Club, he made himself so popular that the Committee decided to have his portrait painted. During the First World War several German nobles who were sent here as liaison officers were also made honorary members, and they objected most strongly to our continuing to display the portrait of the late King of a country with which we were at war. But we told them that wars should not be allowed to interfere with private relationships, that it was our Club, and that if they did not like our way of conducting its affairs they need not come to it. That is still the case, and nothing would induce us to take it down.5
'How I admire that spirit,' Gregory replied. 'It is the greatest tragedy of modern times that wars are no longer fought with chivalry, and that whole populations are made to hate one another. The killing which cannot be avoided entails misery enough without the destruction of personal bonds built up over long years of friendship and respect.'
The Count nodded. That at least is one way in which we Hungarians need feel no shame at the accusation that our country is behind the times. We still do all we can to ameliorate the hardships that war brings to enemy civilians. The professional at our golf club is a case in point… He is, like nearly all of them, a Scotsman; so, when Britain declared war on us, he was arrested and interned. But we decided that to keep him behind barbed wire for months, or perhaps years, through no fault of his own was both harsh on him and stupid as far as we were concerned. So within a week we had him released on parole and back at the Club.'
In a large room on the first floor some twenty men were assembled. Gregory was introduced to each of them in turn as Commandant Tavenier; then they all sat down round a big baize covered gaming table and the meeting began. The Count informed them of his reason for calling them together; Gregory followed with a statement in general terms of the object of his mission, and when he had done a long discussion took place.
It was clear from the beginning that no one present had any love for the Nazis, or for the Germans as a people; but they regarded them as a lesser evil than the Russians, and feared that an Allied victory might lead to Communism's spreading southward into Hungary.
Gregory contended that, if Hungary came over to the Allies, when the war ended she would be preserved from an occupation by Russian forces and her Government be in a strong position to take adequate measures against the spread of Communism. Whereas, should she stand by Germany to the end, her defeat would lead to bankruptcy and social upheavals which must make the triumph of Communism inevitable.
As the latter alternative was exactly what had occurred in 1919, his contention met with general agreement but, as several people were quick to point out, it would not apply if Hitler won, as he would crush Communism once and for all.
The question of which side would win was then argued and opinion upon it was sharply divided. Most of the older men believed that time was on the side of the Allies and that their almost limitless resources would enable them to overcome
Hitler in the long run; but many of the younger ones were convinced that if he could once put Russia out of the war Britain and America would never be able to break him.
The view of these younger men being that which was held in secret by Gregory himself and, in fact, the very fear which had led to his coming to Budapest, he had all his work cut out to argue convincingly against it; so, as soon as he could, he sidetracked the discussion to what was likely to happen in Hungary should the war end in a German victory.
For him this was a much better wicket, because National Socialism was no friend to any aristocracy. The Hungarian Nazis, who sported the Arrow Cross as their symbol, were mostly disgruntled intellectuals, minor officials of Austrian descent and hot-headed students, and so far the magnates had managed to keep them very much in their place. Whereas in Germany no noble could now hope to hold a position of influence unless he accepted such people as equals by becoming a member of the Parti, the great landowners were ordered about by the Parti Gauleiters and the rich were both heavily taxed and blackmailed into making big special contributions to the Parti funds. With Hitler as undisputed Lord of Europe it could not be long before these Hungarian magnates found themselves either dancing to the tune of the Arrow Cross boys or having to put only one foot wrong to find themselves in a concentration camp.