He took the plunge artistically. No one hearing him could have suspected for one moment that he regarded the men of Vichy as a bunch of treacherous self-seeking swine. Drawing himself erect he clicked his heels together, bowed sharply from the waist and said to Cochefert with a genial smile:
'My congratulations, Herr Hauptmann. I have done my utmost to preserve my incognito; but you have got me in a corner from which I see no escape. Since you supposed me to be an enemy agent, such work is most commendable, and I shall not fail to see that you get a good mark for it in the right quarter.'
Staring at him with a puzzled frown, Cochefert muttered, 'What the devil are you talking about?'
Gregory had been fingering the left lapel of his jacket. With the one word, 'This,' he drew from a secret pocket he had had made under it a small square of cardboard, and laid it on the dressing table. On a dark night in the previous December he had taken it from a man whom he had first shot twice in the stomach. He had then, for his own good reasons, hacked off with a chopper the man's right hand and thrown his body into Lake Geneva. It was the card issued by the Geheime Staatspolizei to Obersturmbannführer Fritz Einholtz, and signed Reinhard Heydrich.
For a minute that seemed an age Gregory's eyes were riveted on Cochefert's carrion crow features, striving to assess the movement of every tiny muscle and judge whether he would accept it or declare it, too, to be a fake.
As the Frenchman read the card his eyes widened. When he spoke his voice had lost its cocksure sneering tone. It was lower and held an unmistakably servile note:
'I had no idea… The last thing I would wish is to interfere with the operations of the Gestapo.'
Taking the tide of fortune at the flood, Gregory instantly reacted. As though set in motion by the sudden pressing of an electric switch, he stamped hard with his right foot on the wooden floor, jerked his body erect, threw back his head, shot out his right arm at a steep angle and cried:
'Heil Hitler!'
Taken by surprise, his two visitors hesitated only a second. The Hungarian got swiftly to his feet, then both in chorus responded with the Nazi salute.
'Now,' said Gregory, 'you, Herr Hauptmann, are clearly a man to be trusted; so I propose to take you into my confidence.' His whole manner had undergone a complete change. He spoke in a sharp official voice, and as a superior who was about to do an inferior a favour. Giving a quick glance towards the Lieutenant, he added in French, 'But what of our friend here. Can he be relied upon to keep his mouth shut?'
'Yes, Colonel,' Cochefert replied in the same language. 'He is an Arrow Cross Party member.'
'Good!' Gregory reverted to German, and turned to Puttony. 'Herr Leutnant, I shall also confide in you. All that I say must be regarded as of the highest secrecy. You will report to your superiors that you are fully satisfied about the bona fides of Commandant Tavenier, and not even hint at the work I have been sent to Budapest to do. Is that understood?'
The plump, lethargic looking Lieutenant, who had so far been a silent spectator of the scene, was now standing stiffly to attention and regarding Gregory with the veneration of an athletic minded schoolboy for a Rugby Blue. Tensing his muscles, he snapped out, Ja, Herr Oberst.'
'Very well, then.' Gregory took out his cigarette case and, without offering it to either of the others, lit a cigarette. He then perched himself on the arm of the easy chair that Cochefert had been occupying and went on:
'Reports have reached the Führer that certain elements in Hungary are not putting their full weight behind the war effort. This applies particularly to the magnates. Many are still leading lives of luxury and pleasure highly discreditable to them at a time when the whole German people are making the utmost sacrifices to achieve victory. Allies should share their burdens. In Germany thousands are being rendered homeless by the bombing of our cities and the people submit cheerfully to strict rationing, while here, in Hungary, it is as though a state of war hardly existed. That is very wrong. But I should make it clear that we do not blame the Hungarian people. It is only natural that they should continue to enjoy the good things of life as long as they are encouraged to do so by the example of the nobility. It is those who set this example who must be disciplined; and I have been instructed to list the worst offenders so that the Führer can insist that the Regent should take action against them.'
Gregory paused for a moment, then went on. 'But there is a still more serious matter. It is reported that some of the senior officers in the Hungarian Army are adopting a most reprehensible attitude. One cannot say they are defeatist. To do so would be absurd when it has been obvious to everybody from the beginning that the Führer will triumph over all his enemies. But they are putting obstacles in the way of sending further divisions to the Russian front. They are deliberately conserving Hungarian manpower at the expense of Germany. They do their best to arrange that the spoils Hungary will claim after our victory shall have been paid for in German blood. Worse, much worse, it is even said that some of them question the wisdom of Germany having gone to war with the Soviets, and speak slightingly of our glorious Führer.'
Cochefert and Puttony both shook their heads and made murmurs which could be taken as expressing amazement and horror at such blasphemy. Having given time for this little demonstration of loyalty, Gregory continued.
'Such men are traitors. They must be identified and routed out. I have come here for that purpose. Naturally they would not be quite such fools as to air their subversive views in front of a German; but it was thought that they might do so before a Frenchman, particularly if that Frenchman pretended to get drunk at some of their, parties and showed himself to be at heart a de Gaullist.
'A fortnight ago I was summoned by Herr Himmler to his Headquarters in the Albrecht Strasse and charged with this mission. The appropriate department then provided me with the identity of Commandant Tavenier. They thought it important that I should be able to talk as though I had been evacuated from Dunkirk and had imbibed the British point of view while in London. We have good contacts in the Free French Headquarters there, who had reported Tavenier as having been killed at St. Nazaire; so his identity seemed very suitable. In failing to check with Vichy, which would have disclosed the fact that Tavenier was still alive, the Albrecht Strasse slipped up badly. Had I been in an enemy country it could have cost me my life. I am fortunate to have been found out only by collaborators. No harm is done; but you will both appreciate my reluctance to admit that I was not Tavenier. If that got out it would completely ruin my mission.'