Codeword Golden Fleece Read online

  There could be only one answer, of that the Duke was already convinced; they were here to meet someone whom it would have been highly dangerous for them to receive openly in Warsaw; someone who was so well known that he would almost certainly be recognised in a big city, and, in the present state of tension, press comment on his presence in the Polish capital might prove little short of disastrous.

  Half a dozen possibilities as to the identity of the men who were to join the party next day flitted through the Duke’s swift brain.

  Voroshilov and Molotov, the Commissar for Defence and Foreign Minister of the Soviet Union? But no, Poland had a blood feud with Russia which went back into the dark ages. However crystal clear it might appear to outsiders that Poland’s only chance of survival if attacked by Germany lay in an alliance with Russia, de Richleau knew that the Poles would never agree to it—until it was too late.

  Daladier and Marshal Weygand, perhaps? France had been Poland’s champion for centuries, and it was Weygand’s brilliant generalship which had resulted in the ‘Miracle of the Vistula’ in 1920. He had flown from France to advise Marshal Pilsudski and, changing the Polish strategy at the eleventh hour, inflicted an overwhelming defeat upon the Bolsheviks when it had seemed that nothing could stop their victorious armies from sweeping right across Europe. But France was no longer Poland’s ally. She had given her guarantee to the Czechs and, finding herself incapable of honouring it when the crisis came, called on Britain, who at that time had given the Czechs no guarantee, to get her out of her mess. Britain had done so, pledging herself to the Czechs in a new treaty which, in turn, she found herself incapable of implementing when a few months later Hitler again turned on the heat and marched into Czechoslovakia. Then Britain had voluntarily guaranteed Poland, but not so France. If it came to a showdown this was Britain’s mess.

  So perhaps the man who was travelling through the night towards Lubieszow was Mr. Neville Chamberlain? After all, he had flown to Bad Godesberg; why not to Lubieszow?

  Then again, it might be Mussolini or Count Ciano. The Italian Dictator had put a check on German schemes of aggression more than once and played the part of mediator at Munich. If ever there were a time when powerful mediation could save the peace of Europe, it was now.

  But, on the whole, de Richleau considered Chamberlain the best bet. Britain had been rearming feverishly for the last few months, but many months were required to make up for the criminal negligence of the slothful and irresponsible Governments that had held power for so many years. In the Duke’s view, Britain had been right to eat the food of humiliation at the time of Munich. At least it meant that the people would have air-raid shelters if the clash came now; and, if only this new crisis could be tided over, Britain might even have a few modern tanks and a thousand or so automatic rifles when the great showdown came, as come it must. Perhaps Chamberlain was coming to tell the unfortunate Poles that, if they could not see their way to meeting Hitler’s demands concerning Danzig, their blood would be upon their own heads. By no conceivable means could Britain give one iota of military support to Poland, if she were attacked, and the Duke, being a realist to his fingertips, believed that no statesman should allow sentiment to jeopardise the safety of his country. Sorry as he was for the Poles, he hoped that Chamberlain would decide that discretion was once more the better part of valour and gain Britain just a little more time.

  Next morning the Duke woke to the noise of an aeroplane droning overhead, and, when it ceased suddenly, he left his bed with unusual alacrity. Looking out of the window he saw that the plane had landed a few hundred yards away, and that two men were just climbing out of it. One was tall and thin, the other somewhat shorter, with square shoulders and a slight limp. They were still too far off for him to make out the details of their features, but he knew at once that neither of them was Chamberlain, Daladier, Molotov or Mussolini.

  As they approached the house he saw that the square-shouldered fellow was about thirty years of age, and had a strong, almost brutal, face, with a jutting chin and thick, fleshy mouth. The other was much older, grey-haired, distinguished-looking, with a mouth like a rat-trap and a thin, aristocratic, aquiline nose not unlike the Duke’s own.

  Neither of the two bore the least resemblance to any well-known statesman, although the Duke had an idea that he had seen the taller man somewhere before. But they passed round the side of the house before he could verify the impression.

  It was still only seven o’clock, and as de Richleau always had his breakfast served in bed he had to restrain his impatience to learn more of the new arrivals until his normal time of appearing downstairs, which was round about half past ten.

  As he came down the broad stairway into the big lounge-hall, with its antler-hung walls, he saw a little group of men gathered at its far end; General Mack and the two strangers were among them. They were talking in low voices, but a few sentences floated up to the approaching Duke. As he caught them he stiffened slightly. They had acted as a key to unlock a cell in his brain, and he rembered now the identity of the tall, aristocratic man whom he had seen arriving a few hours earlier.

  The new guest was General Count von Geisenheim, a Prussian officer of the old school, who was high in the councils of the German General Staff.

  3

  Coffin for ‘Uncle’

  The shock of learning that the men responsible for Poland’s destiny were secretly negotiating with Poland’s potential enemies, the Germans, was enough to make even de Richleau catch his breath, but after a barely perceptible pause he proceeded onward down the stairs.

  General Mack turned and saw him and, with a wave of his hand, introduced the two Germans. He made no attempt to conceal their identity, and the younger, coarse-faced man proved to be a Major Bauer. Both men bowed sharply from the waist, then relaxed into smiling affability, von Geisenheim remarking that he recalled meeting the Duke some years before at a shooting party in the Schwartzwald.

  Europe was still at peace. No one could question the Poles’ right to entertain Germans privately or officially if they chose to do so. There were probably several hundred Germans still freely walking about London, and certainly several thousand Britons enjoying the August sunshine on their summer holidays in Germany. The Duke’s amiability rivalled that of the Count as he enquired after mutual friends, but behind his smile his mind was seriously perturbed.

  His perturbation was not lessened when, after luncheon, the plump little Baron led him out on to the terrace and, with obvious embarrassment, began to talk about his guests.

  ‘I do hope,’ he said anxiously, ‘that the arrival of all these people will not spoil the pleasure of your visit to Lubieszow.’

  De Richleau raised his grey devil’s eyebrows in feigned surprise. ‘But of course not, my dear fellow. Why should it?’

  ‘Well, only that we are such a crowd, and Ignac Krasinski said he felt sure you had come here for peace and quiet, so would hate that. As a matter of fact, he suggested that I should find an excuse to terminate your visit before these people arrived, but naturally I would, not hear of such a thing.’

  ‘But please!’ exclaimed the Duke. ‘I understand perfectly and should have thought of it myself this morning. Your generous hospitality has led you to overcrowd your house. Lucretia and I will go this afternoon.’

  Actually, he had no intention whatever of leaving for the present and knew quite well that to the simple-minded landowner the laws of hospitality would forbid the acceptance of his glib offer. The Baron reacted even more quickly than he expected.

  ‘No, no. Now that they have arrived and you have met them you must stay, of course. Besides, the house is not overcrowded in the least. For weddings and family celebrations here we have often put up double the number of people.’

  ‘In that case …’ murmured the Duke.

  ‘Say no more,’ begged the Baron. ‘I am sorry now that I even mentioned the matter. I would not have done so but for the fact that I have a request to make of you.’
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br />   ‘Go ahead, my dear fellow, go ahead.’

  ‘You will have realised, of course, that Mack and his friends are not—er—just ordinary guests who have come for the shooting.’

  ‘Indeed!’ De Richleau’s grey eyes opened a little, conveying mild interest.

  ‘Well, yes. They are people of some consequence; friends of Ignac’s, not of my own, and they wanted to meet these damned Germans, who arrived this morning, at some place where there would be no risk of any newspaper men getting wind of the meeting. Clotilde, as you may have gathered, is greatly interested in politics, and it was to please her that I agreed to place Lubieszow at their disposal as a meeting-place.’

  ‘I see, I see,’ muttered the Duke, who had ‘seen’ the situation perfectly clearly all along. ‘And this request that you wished to make of me?’

  ‘It’s only that, should you decide to leave Lubieszow before the meeting has concluded, Mack has asked me to request you not to mention this meeting to anyone whatsoever, and not to mention it in the letters that you may write while you are here.’

  ‘But of course, I would not dream of doing so,’ de Richleau assured him blandly.

  ‘Good! That’s settled then!’ the Baron exclaimed, with obvious relief at having got this unpleasant duty of infringing the freedom of his guest off his mind. ‘I’m very grateful. You’ll forgive me if I leave you now. I’ve got to see my bailiff about some new cowsheds I’m having built.’

  Left on his own, the Duke sauntered on along the terrace, enjoying the fragrance of his after-lunch cigar. Lucretia, Stanislas and Jan had gone off riding, and General Mack’s party was evidently holding its first conference, as it had shut itself up in the big drawing-room on the first floor.

  The room was at the back of the house, overlooking the terrace, and its windows were open. As the Duke strolled slowly up and down, the sound of voices came faintly to him, although, to his regret, not loud enough for him to make any sense of the conversation that was proceeding above. He noted, however, with considerable interest that after a little time the discussion began to grow heated. The voices were raised, and Major Bauer’s guttural tones could be heard with particular distinctness, as he endeavoured to ram home some point with true German assertiveness. At a little after four o’clock the meeting broke up, and when the men who had attended it trooped downstairs to drink their afternoon coffee, de Richleau observed that there was a definite atmosphere of strain between the Poles and the two Germans.

  That evening, having changed for dinner a little earlier than usual, the Duke quietly walked along to Lucretia’s room. She was dressed but still smoothing and coiling her golden hair on the top of her small, beautifully shaped head. Perching himself on the bed just behind her, so that he could see her face in the mirror, he said:

  ‘What do you make of all this?’

  ‘You mean the arrival of the two Germans?’

  ‘Yes. Mack and Co. came here specially to meet them.’

  ‘I guessed as much. Von Geisenheim is nice. In a way he reminds me of you; but the Major is just a nasty, common tough.’

  The Duke smiled a trifle sardonically. ‘Permit me to undeceive you, darling. Von Geisenheim is a cultured aristocrat, long trained in military diplomacy, and therefore easily capable of disguising his true feelings.’

  Lucretia laughed into her mirror. ‘Didn’t I just say that in a way he reminds me of you?’

  ‘Touché!’ de Richleau laughed back. ‘However, I meant that he is more dangerous than fifty Major Bauers, and that I am much perturbed to find that he has been sent on a secret mission to the Poles. Bauer is posing as von Geisenheim’s adjutant, but I haven’t a doubt that he is something much more than that. He’s a Hitler man: one of those guttersnipe Nazis who have climbed to power by sheer unscrupulous brutality; he’s been sent to keep an eye on his General and see that he does his stuff. But the Prussian nobility, who become members of the German General Staff almost by hereditary right, have never bent the knee to Hitler. He has been useful to them, and they will give him their support as long as it suits their book to do so. Von Geisenheim represents the real power behind the throne’ in Germany, and Bauer represents the throne itself. Together they form a damnably dangerous combination, and I’ve no doubt at all that they are working hand in glove.’

  Turning slowly, Lucretia looked at him. ‘D’you think the Poles are being tempted to sell out?’

  ‘That’s about it,’ the Duke assented. ‘Mind you, Mack and his cronies are not representative of the Polish nation, but they have the power to do a deal.’

  ‘How would that affect Britain?’

  ‘Very well. If the Poles give way war will be averted and Britain will not be called on to honour her guarantee. That would give her a few more months’ grace to rush on her rearmament programme before Hitler makes another of his positively last demands.’

  ‘You consider that he is absolutely insatiable?’

  ‘Absolutely. If the Poles give him Danzig he will discover that some Germans are being ill-treated in the Corridor; and, before the autumn is out, he will threaten to march in unless they give him that.’

  ‘Is there nothing that can be done to stop it?’

  ‘Nothing, I’m afraid. We can only hope for a postponement, provided the price is not too high.’

  Lucretia’s tapering eyebrows drew together in a puzzled frown. ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘Simply that, if Hitler will be content with Danzig, well and good; but he may be asking for a rectification of Poland’s western frontier as well. If Mack agrees to that, the Poles will lose their forward defence lines, thus making themselves much more vulnerable to invasion later on.’

  ‘Just as the Czechs were deprived of their Sudeten line before they had even a chance to strike a blow?’

  ‘Exactly. And, in consequence, Britain lost a staunch and powerful ally. She will need all the help she can get when the great showdown does come, and I don’t want to see the Polish Eagle shorn of her talons before she has dipped them deep in German blood.’

  ‘Surely the object lesson of Czechoslovakia is far too recent for the Poles to allow themselves to be tricked into a situation where they may wake up one morning to find their country a German province?’

  ‘I hope so, but that is what worries me about von Geisenheim’s presence here. The question of Danzig can be handled perfectly well by the German diplomats, so his visit cannot have been made on that account. He is a professional soldier, and a very brilliant one. All of Mack’s people are soldiers, too, so they can only be negotiating on some question which would affect future military operations. However, thanks be to God, the Germans are not getting it all their own way at the moment.’

  Lucretia looked round again. ‘How d’you know that?’

  De Richleau smiled at her. ‘Because their meeting lasted less than an hour this afternoon and then broke up after à stormy scene. I have given the Baron my word that I will let no one know that I am aware that these secret talks are taking place; but we shall see about that, since I place the interests of Britain above even my personal honour.’

  He stood up and added slowly: ‘Should you chance to overhear any fragments of their conversation which seem of interest, I should be glad if you would let me know. It was that which I came along to say.’

  Stooping, he took her hand and kissed it, then left the room as silently as he had come.

  That evening Stanislas was again detained by his father to keep a watchful eye on the comfort of their guests, so for the second time Jan had Lucretia to himself for the best part of two hours.

  The Poles, while outwardly polite to the two Germans, now seemed slightly embarrassed by their presence, particularly when Major Bauer insisted on dragging Hitler into the conversation and talking of him as though he were a Messiah. With consummate tact von Geisenheim again and again tided over awkward pauses in the conversation that arose on this account; yet it was obvious that, despite his rank, he was in no position even co
vertly to reprimand the fanatical Nazi. Fortunately, by half past nine, Bauer declared himself tired and, with an abrupt good night to his hostess, limped off to bed. After that the atmosphere grew easier, and de Richleau talked amiably with the German General for an hour and a half while the others enjoyed their bridge.

  Wednesday the 23rd of August dawned fine and clear, but it was a day which brought a sudden deepening from grey to black of the war clouds that were gathering over Europe. By midday everyone at Lubieszow knew that Joachim von Ribbentrop, the ex-traveller in champagne who had become Hitler’s mouthpiece in power politics, had pulled off the greatest coup of his career. The Soviet, up to then a staunch supporter of the League of Nations and a great factor in maintaining the balance of power in Europe, had suddenly signed a non-aggression pact with the Nazis.

  Oblivious to all but his own pleasure, young Stanislas succeeded in getting free of the duties that his father had imposed upon him and gaily whirled Lucretia off for a ride with him after lunch. General Mack’s party and the Germans went into conference upstairs. Jan endeavoured to settle down to a book, but, finding that he could not do so, wandered out on to the terrace, and, looking slightly distrait, joined the Duke.

  ‘What the devil does this new move mean?’ he asked, as he plumped himself down in a basket chair.

  ‘It means, replied the Duke, with a cynical little smile, ‘that Hitler had succeeded in securing his eastern flank. With Russia out of the game, Poland alone can be no serious menace to him; and once he has dealt with her he will be free to launch his armies and air fleets against Western Europe.’