Traitors' Gate

      'That is a matter in dispute. It will be decided on the evidence of the washroom attendant when the case comes up before a magistrate in the morning.'

      'As I understand it, then, the Gruppenführer has been charged too, and will have to appear in the dock with me?'

      'Yes; and Captain Cochefert also, if after treatment in hospital the doctors consider him well enough to do so.'

      'Why, then, should you have released the Gruppenführer and detained me?'

      The Hungarian shrugged. 'Your circumstances are very different. He is a high official in the police force of an allied country. His word that he will appear when summoned is sufficient. You, on the other hand, are both a foreigner and a temporary resident here. If you were allowed to go free you might take the first train in the morning out of Budapest.'

      'True, but the charge is only a civil one; surely your regulations enable you to release me against security for' my appearance?'

      'Yes; normally I could do so.'

      Gregory tried to still the beating of his heart as his hopes rose. 'Then why should you not? Fortunately I have a considerable amount of money on me in fact a very large sum, as I was too late to pay it into the bank today. I will willingly deposit the bulk of it with you as a recognizance.'

      The Hungarian's face broke into a smile. 'You mean that, having made provision in advance against a probable fine, you would not turn up?'

      'The sum would cover a fine and there would be a very handsome balance which could go to your police orphanage,' Gregory smiled back, in good hope now that his scheme for bribing the Captain to let him go was about to come off.

      But the Hungarian shook his head. 'No. It can't be done. Ordinarily there would have been no difficulty about what you suggest; but you seem to have forgotten that the Germans believe you to be a spy.'

      'That is the whole point,' Gregory countered. 'If I had nothing to fear from appearing in court tomorrow, I'd be a fool to offer several thousand pengoes to save myself a night in a cell; but my life may depend on my becoming a free man again tonight.'

      'I realize that; but I cannot help it.'

      On seeing his one chance slipping Gregory began to plead desperately. 'But you can! You can! I am not charged with spying. You have only to go by the letter of the law and treat me as though I were an ordinary stranger in Budapest who had created a row in a nightclub. If it hadn't been for the Gruppenführer you wouldn't hold me. To do so is to associate yourself with his frightful error and, perhaps, bring about my death.'

      'Not necessarily. You still have a way out.'

      'Way out? If you've thought of one for God's sake tell me of it.'

      'To come clean with the magistrate, as you have done with me.'

      'But if I admit to having fought as one of the Free French I shall be counted an enemy and interned.'

      'Well, that is not much to worry about compared to being carried off by the Gestapo.'

      'That may be my fate just the same, unless I appeal to Vichy to substantiate my identity.'

      'Then you must do so.'

      'Admittedly that would knock the bottom out of the Germans' case, but Vichy in their turn would at once apply for my extradition.'

      'Why should they bother. If you were interned here you could do them no further harm.'

      Gregory had been aware of this weakness in the wholly academic argument he was putting up; but, short of saying that he was wanted for murder by the Vichy police which it could be assumed would at once alienate the Hungarian's sympathy from him he could see no way of making it appear that should he call on Vichy he would be jumping out of the frying pan into the fire. All he could do was to adopt a middle course, and say:

      'As I have already told you, I am listed by Vichy as a traitor. You may be sure they would not be content to leave me here; and if I am sent back, God knows what will become of me. Some of these Petainists are as bad as the Germans, and they delight in the chance to revenge themselves on officers who have shown them up to be cowards.'

      'All the same, they won't torture you, as the Germans would.'

      'No, but they might shoot me.'

      'I see no reason why they should; unless you have done something to deserve it.'

      'You do not know these Vichy traitors as I do. They stick at nothing to curry favour with the Germans.'

      The Hungarian shook his head sadly. 'It is an evil day for any country when such things can happen in it. But it looks as if you must take your chance with Vichy as the only way of keeping out of the clutches of the Gruppenführer.'

      'Either way the most terrible ordeals await me,' Gregory replied with great earnestness. 'Yet you have it in your power to save me from them. You alone can play the part of a good angel. God would reward you for it. One word from you the signing of a paper…'

      'No!' The Captain held up his hand to check the flow of pleading. 'It is useless for you to go on. I'm sorry for you, but I have to think of myself. I've a wife and two youngsters. I'd be only too willing to let you go if you could produce any concrete proof that you were not this English spy, Sallust. But as things are, I daren't risk it. I've already earned the animosity of that Gruppenführer, and he is too powerful a bird to be just laughed off. If I fail to produce you in court tomorrow he will create hell with my own Chiefs, and what possible excuse could I give. I'd be out of a job, or, at the very least, suffer a reduction in rank.'

      "Gregory saw now that his endeavours had been in vain. He could only nod gloomily, as the Captain went on: 'We've spent quite enough time in talking, and I have work to do. Come along now, and we'll put you in a cell for the night.'

      As they left the waiting room, Gregory caught sight of himself in a small mirror. Up till that moment he had been so desperately concerned with trying to save himself that he had paid little regard to his physical condition and none to his appearance. Now he saw that the hair oil from the half full bottle that Cochefert had broken over his head had wrought havoc with his collar, shirt and jacket, and he became newly conscious of its oily stickiness; so he asked if he might wash.

      His request was granted. He was taken to a washroom where he succeeded in getting most of the surplus oil out of his hair and off his face and neck, but about his clothes nothing could be done short of sending them to a cleaners.

      He was then taken to a cell and locked in. Only a dim blue pilot light was burning in it; but that was sufficient to show him that it was clean and reasonably comfortable. It contained an iron bed with three coarse blankets, a chamber pot, a chair and a small table. On the table there had considerately been placed a mug of steaming coffee. Having sipped it he found it to be ersatz stuff, probably made from acorns, but he was none the less grateful and, sitting down on the bed, he slowly drank it while reviewing his situation.

      Whichever way he looked at it he could see no ray of comfort. From a modern police station of this kind there could be no escape, and there was no reason at all to suppose that a chance to do so would occur when the routine drill was followed next morning of taking him from it in a black Maria to the court.

      Once there, he would not have a leg to stand on. He hoped that the injury he had inflicted on Cochefert was proving extremely painful, but it could not have rendered him inarticulate. If the Frenchman had not already made a statement to the police, he would certainly do so next day. His statement would include irrefutable proof that Gregory was not Tavenier, and also disclose that he had passed himself off as Lt.Colonel Einholtz of the S.D. If anything could add to Grauber's vindictive rage it would be that he had posed as this favourite disciple in frightfulness of whose services he had deprived the Gestapo for good and all.