'That,' said the Bishop, 'is a burden we should accept on humanitarian grounds. What else?'
'He may ask us to issue another loan, or even suggest a capital levy to be devoted to a common war chest.'
A grin spread over the handsome face of the one-armed Colonel Janos Orczy. 'We can rely on the Baroness to get us out of that one.'
Gregory gave him an enquiring look, but it was Count Laszlo who satisfied his curiosity. 'Ribbentrop's mistress, the Baroness Tuzolto. She is a Hungarian, and a very beautiful one. Of course she is a Nazi, but she naturally protects the interests of her country as far as she can. On more than one occasion already she has acted as the secret intermediary between him and our magnates. He is completely venal and if the bribe is big enough will agree to anything provided that he can see his course clear to explain it away to his master. No doubt we'll have to find more men and food, and perhaps float a new loan.
But she always travels with him and, if there is any suggestion of a levy affecting the great estates, she will buy him off for us.'
They then began to discuss the Heads of Agreement, but their views were so divergent that although they talked for another hour and a half they did not get very far. When it came to fixing their next meeting, it transpired that all of them except Colonel Orczy had arranged to spend the weekend in the country; so Monday was the earliest day they would all be available. Gregory pleaded the urgency of getting matters settled, but in vain. The Bishop said that he could not neglect his spiritual duties in his diocese, old General Baron Alacy had his annual tenants' party on his estate, and the others said it would be pointless to continue the discussions without them.
The casual postponement of deliberations on which so much hung, and the additional danger to himself of remaining in Budapest even two days longer than was strictly necessary, filled Gregory with annoyance and frustration and he made no great effort to conceal his feelings. Seeing his long face, Janos Orczy slapped him on the shoulder and cried cheerfully:
'Don't look so glum, my friend. Even should that Police Lieutenant speak of you to the Germans, we will find some way to get you safely out of the country. And there are worse places than Budapest for a little relaxation. Come out to dinner with me tonight and we will forget this wretched war for a while.' Then Count Laszlo added, 'I am returning to Nagykata for Saturday and Sunday nights. Why not come with me? Mihaly Zapolya would, I know, be delighted to see you. I'll call for you at your hotel tomorrow morning at eleven o'clock.'
Gregory gratefully accepted both invitations, and a few hours later the young Colonel took him to a restaurant in a back street of Buda, It had low vaulted ceilings, all the furniture was bright red painted with Hungarian flowers, and the waitresses were dressed in gaily embroidered national costume.
For their main course they had goose. The whole bird was cut into joints and served on a low revolving wooden dish placed in the centre of the table, so that by swivelling it round they could help themselves to any joint that took their fancy. A feature of the place was its famous Tzigane band which played alternately gay and soulful music. The gypsies too wore brilliant costumes embellished with bunches of many coloured ribbons. A bald old man with a face like a wrinkled walnut performed prodigies on the Tzimberlum, and the leader, walking among the tables, drew marvellous melodies from his fiddle. Later in the evening their music grew wild and passionate, and gypsy girls with flashing eyes, their dark hair streaming out behind them, whirled madly in ancient dances.
The sight and sound of so much revelry made Gregory feel that the war and its cares were more remote than ever, and when, after a session in a nightclub that did not end until five in the morning, he got back to his hotel, he was in fuller agreement than ever with his charming host that there were worse places than Budapest for a little relaxation.
Six hours later Count Laszlo called for him as arranged and he spent a pleasant but uneventful weekend at Nagykata. On the Monday they received bad news which plunged the household into gloom. The Regent's eldest son, Stephen Horthy, had been killed in an aircraft disaster. As he had been nominated heir apparent this was a sad blew; for it once more put Hungary's future in the melting pot, and raised the not altogether welcome possibility of an Italian Prince being invited to mount the throne.
In the afternoon Gregory and Count Laszlo returned to the capital to find black streamers hanging from the windows of most of the houses and a general air of depression; but they did not feel called upon to postpone the next meeting of the Committee and drove straight to an apartment owned by the Count in which it was to be held.
This was situated in a suburb of Buda, and with a twinkle in his merry dark eyes the hunchback took Gregory from a sitting room that had a dining alcove through into a bedroom almost entirely filled by an enormous low bed. He then opened a wardrobe and displayed to him a collection of some twenty women's dressing gowns of varying colours and rich materials.
On Gregory's raising an enquiring eyebrow, the Count laughed and said: 'You did not think I lived here, did you? Nearly everybody who is anybody in Budapest has a little place like this in which to receive his girlfriends discreetly. You might perhaps suppose that my unfortunate deformity makes success in that direction difficult for me, but I can assure you it is quite the contrary. Women are my passion and their greatest weakness is their curiosity. Few of them can resist the temptation to find out if I am as good a lover as other men, and God has kindly compensated me by giving me quite unusual virility. There is hardly a Pretty Countess in Budapest who has not been tumbled on that bed, and then come back to be tumbled again.'
Recalling what Levianski had said about the morals of the Hungarian aristocracy, Gregory thought it unlikely that the Count was boasting. Moreover he was not altogether without evidence of their light-hearted ways himself. While at Nagykata the charming bronze haired Countess Elizabeth had made it unmistakably plain that she would have liked to enter on an affaire with him, and had even gone to the lengths late one night of coming along to his bedroom with a book which she said she thought he might like to read.
The meeting went quite well until it came to the question of the territories lost by Hungary under the Treaty of Trianon being retained or restored to her. At first the Committee were set on demanding every square inch of land that had ever been Hungarian soil; but Gregory said they must be reasonable, as the Allies could not be expected to penalize all Hungary's neighbours on her account. Then, each member stood out for the permanent absorption of lands in which his own family had once owned estates.
After a long wrangle to which Gregory listened in silence, he put it to them that he thought they would be well advised to confine their terms to the retention of Transylvania and the granting of a port on the Adriatic, as those were reasonable requests, whereas it was unlikely that the Allied Governments would consent to any alteration of the frontiers of pre1939 Czechoslovakia.
On the question of Austria, the old General proved the nigger in the wood pile as up till 1919 an uncle of his had owned a local railway in a strip of country that had been given to the Austrians, and its loss had considerably reduced the fortune of that side of his family. At their meetings he had so far done little but mumble through his walrus moustache, but on this matter he became angrily loquacious and the meeting broke up without having got any further.