The Portuguese Escape (37 page)

Punctually at a quarter past two he was waiting in the Embassy drawing-room, where a coffee-tray stood before the fireplace at one end of the long room; in a moment Sir Henry and Lady Loseley came in by the door at the farther end—Lady Loseley, after a pleasant greeting, took a cup of coffee and said that she must go and see the baby, and tactfully went out.

‘Well, Richard, does this visit mean that you contemplate returning to us?' the Ambassador asked, turning a quizzical blue eye on his Head of Chancery.

‘Not if you can spare me for another forty-eight hours, Sir. I came to beg you to do that'—he spoke with an earnestness so unusual that it rather impressed his chief. ‘And to apologise for rushing off the night before last.'

‘Oh! Have you really driven all the way down from Beira Alta just to say that?'

His shrewdness embarrassed Atherley.

‘Well no, Sir. I brought Monsignor Subercaseaux down, and I'm afraid I must take him back. But I can be in the
Chancery by nine tomorrow morning if you wish it,' he said, rather stiffly.

The Ambassador chuckled.

‘Had to bring him down to tranquillise the troublesome Countess, eh? I'm not surprised; she's been making a terrible commotion. And where
is
that nice little daughter who cooks? Up at Gralheira? I don't wonder she ran away.'

‘She's on her way there,' Richard said. ‘But she didn't go off just to escape from her mother; she had a more valid reason than that.'

‘Oh, ah.' The Ambassador, his eyes always gay and shrewd, picked at his thumb-nail. ‘Am I to be told the more valid reason?'

‘Well really, Sir, at this stage I think you had better know the whole thing,' the young man said, rather desperately. ‘I tried hard to avoid getting involved in this, but that infernal Secret Service man simply dragged me into it. You see—' and then he poured out the whole tale of Father Antal.

‘Oh yes, I know about that,' the Ambassador said airily, still picking at his thumb, his eyes still amused. ‘The Duke of Ericeira really is a
galant-uomo
to take on the whole boiling like that, though of course all these ecclesiasticos are just his sister's cup of tea! But why do you say the little lady is on her way to Gralheira? Didn't she go there on Monday with her
cavaliere servente?
'

‘No, Sir; she never got there.' Seeing how much the Ambassador already knew—probably from Campbell, Richard reflected sourly—he decided to tell the rest of the story. ‘At São Pedro do Sul the wretched American went to have a drink while she went to say her prayers, and in his absence she was pinched by some Communist agents and carried off.'

‘Good God! What a frightful thing!' The Ambassador was startled by this development. ‘But how on earth was she recovered? I should have thought they'd have swept her straight off into Spain.'

‘They would have but for Luzia, that beautiful little girl of the Duke's—do you know her, Sir?'

‘No, alas.'

‘Well, she prevented it. Everyone in São Pedro do Sul
eats out of her hand, of course: she got an eye-witness account of the kidnapping, so Torrens rang up Colonel Marques and had the frontier closed.'

‘What a wonderful story!' the Ambassador interjected, his blue eyes gleaming. ‘Do go on. Did the remarkable Luzia go after them and catch them?'

‘They went after them all right, and Luzia telephoned and caused some thug to give their car four flats before it crossed the frontier! But they got away in the local taxi.'

‘Ah, she probably rang up Martinez at the shooting-box,' the Ambassador said reflectively. ‘Lovely country up there; and those wild goats give one some very sporting shots. But how was the little Hungarian recovered in the end? Where is she on her way to Gralheira
from?
'

‘Here, Sir. When the agents found all exits blocked they hived back to Lisbon; by God's mercy their car was involved in a street crash yesterday morning, and Countess Hetta was found, and saved.'

‘It sounds as if there was another story there,' the Ambassador said. ‘However, I won't delay you by going into that now, since you have got to get out to Estoril and drive the Monsignor back to Gralheira. I know that the Duke likes to dine punctually! Just tell me this—how much did the little Countess give away?'

Richard blinked slightly at this further instance of the all-knowingness of his gay, bland chief.

‘Something, Sir, but we don't yet know what. I'm sure we shall find all that out this evening; she will tell Miss Probyn—she trusts her.'

‘I think I really must meet this Miss Probyn; she seems to be a sort of lynch-pin in this whole business,' the Ambassador said. ‘Very well, Richard; take your extra forty-eight hours of leave—let boy meet girl! You know your way out. Goodbye.'

And with this final shattering display of omniscience the Ambassador walked up the long room and went out by the farther door, leaving Atherley blinking after him.

Mrs. Hathaway and Hetta, with their police escort, reached Gralheira soon after five. Dona Maria Francisca was dispensing prizes for needle-work at a local ‘Instituto Bom Pastor', i.e. a rescue-home; the Duke, with Townsend Waller and Torrens, was off at the far end of the estate inspecting his forestry plantations, but Julia and Luzia, the latter bursting with curiosity, were out on the steps to greet the new arrivals. Hetta looked pale, Julia thought; she consigned her to Luzia's care—‘I'll see you later, Hetti.' She turned to Mrs. Hathaway. ‘I thought you and I would have tea up in your room. Dona Maria Francisca was so sorry—' She led her guest upstairs.

‘My dear child, what a wonderful house!' Mrs. Hathaway said, her eye travelling round as she went. ‘And what a beautiful room!' she exclaimed a moment later, taking in the carpet, the period furniture, the space and dignity, and the view from the two high windows.

‘Yes. We'll have tea in here while Marta unpacks,' Julia said, opening another door into a sitting-room. ‘This is yours too; you have a suite, all but the bath-room!' While Mrs. Hathaway took off her hat and coat Julia explained about the only two Gralheira bath-rooms. Mrs. Hathaway was as amused as Major Torrens had been by these Victorian dispositions. Lying on a brocaded chaise-longue in the boudoir, drinking tea, she gave a little sigh of pleasure.

‘How nice this is! Really I am wonderfully lucky to be here, however it came about.'

‘Tell me every word,' Julia said—and so Mrs. Hathaway did; to Julia she even admitted the agonising helplessness and distress of that first hour or two of her efforts to bring Hetta round. ‘But who is the little fat man who sent the car to bring us up here? He wouldn't let me pay a penny! Is he something to do with the police?'

‘Yes, he's the head of the Security Police.'

‘Well now, Julia my dear, I should like it so much if you were to tell me what all this is
about,'
Mrs. Hathaway said. ‘You call this girl Hetti, but who is she?'

‘She's Hetta Páloczy; a Hungarian.' Julia told the whole story, ending up with Father Antal's escape.

‘You'll meet him at dinner; he's the dearest old creature you can imagine.'

‘That is all quite fascinating,' said Mrs. Hathaway. ‘But, Julia, I feel that you ought to go and see that poor child; she's on thorns about something, and I know it's you she wants to talk to.'

‘All right, I will. Just tell me how Edina is.'

‘Splendid, when I last heard. But do go to your Hetta. If I could just have a
boracha
I think I would lie down for a little. At what time do we dine?'

Julia laughed and kissed her old friend. ‘
Boracha!
You know the words already! Dinner is usually at eight-thirty; tonight it may be a little later because the Vatican contact has to get back from Lisbon. But Marta shall call you, and I will come and take you downstairs to meet them all. Oh, what fun this is!'

She found Hetta in Nanny's sitting-room, lingering over an ample English tea and actually laughing at some nonsense of Luzia's; at the sight of Julia, however, the gaiety left her face, and she sprang up, saying—‘At last there you are! Now, please, I
must
speak to you.' She turned to thank Nanny and Luzia for ‘so delicious a tea', and looked anxiously at Julia.

‘Come along to my room. Countess Hetta is next to me, isn't she, Nanny?'

‘Yes, Miss Probyn. It's rather
small
, really only the dressing-room, but I thought the Countess would put up with that for the sake of the communicating door.'

‘Perfect, Nanny,' said Julia, who had in fact herself asked her hostess to put Hetta there. She glanced round as they passed through to see that Manoela had unpacked properly, and led Hetta on into her own room, which was big, and as much a sitting-room as a bedroom; Julia had organised this for herself during her spell as Luzia's governess. The two girls sat down on a comfortable English sofa
under one of the windows. ‘Now, Hetti, tell me what the trouble is,' Julia said.

Hetta's account was rather confused, to begin with.

‘Yulia, first I must tell you that when Richard would not say that he could bring me here when I asked, though he had promised, I was angry. There was a reason for that, but it does not matter,' Hetta said, on a falling note of the voice.

Aha and oho, Julia thought to herself—enter Mme de Whatnot!

‘Well, never mind; go on,' she said.

‘So then I asked Townsend instead, and he drove me up to this beautiful little town—but how beautiful
all
Portugal is! He wanted to drink wine; I did not, so I went into a church. That is always a nice way to spend time, and this is a beautiful church; I grew more happy. Then these horrible men come in, though how they can know I am there I cannot imagine!—they drag me out and put me in a car and drive away; a
long
way. At last we stop, and I see it is a frontier; I try to get out, and shout; but they pulled me back and held my mouth, and tied something over my eyes so that I should not see. Then the car is turned; I could feel it going backwards and forwards, so I knew that it had not crossed the frontier, and this was
something
.'

‘Indeed it was! And then?'

‘We drove, not for so long now, and presently stop while one of the men asks questions; then they bring me into a
very
small inn, first taking the bandage off my eyes. In this place
they
ate, bread and butter, and an omelette, and drank wine, but to me they gave nothing; I must sit and watch them eat!' Hetta said indignantly. ‘And I was now very hungry, for Waller and I had taken lunch at one. But I would not ask for food!'

Julia sat listening, with a sort of pang at the strangeness of it, to Hetta's blindfold account of the journey that they had so painstakingly traced out only two days before—one story, but from two how different angles.

‘And after that?' she prompted.

‘They take me out again, but there is some trouble about the car; one takes me back into the inn, swearing! And presently we get into another most
terrible
old car, and
again they tie my eyes; but even through the bandage, just once I could see the lights of another car that met us, and I tried to put my hand out of the window to wave— but they snatched my hand away, and struck me.'

Julia was shaken by this, realising that it was the lights of the Land-Rover that had pierced the bandage over Hetta's eyes; that it was to her own friends that she had tried to beckon. But all she said was—‘Well, after that?'

‘We stop several times, and there is more talking with people; at last we get into another car, much better, with a chauffeur, and drive again.'

‘I wonder where to?' Julia speculated.

‘To the frontier, I think. Is there a place with the word honour in it? I thought I heard “Oñoro” several times.'

‘Yes, there is. Fuentes de Oñoro.'

‘
That
was it. And again the car is stopped; they cannot pass, but turn round and drive away. Then they got out a map, I heard the paper crackle, and one says, “No no, Lissabon!” Now this is how
Germans
say Lisbon,' Hetta said, opening her eyes at Julia—' so I begin to think that though they speak Spanish, one or two are perhaps really German. We drive a long time, very fast, and then stop; it seems the driver does not know the way. They swear and swear; it is dark, the road is empty—no people, no houses; the chauffeur speaks only Portuguese. One of them speaks that, a rather fattish man, with a short beard; I can see this when he gets out to look for which road they shall take, because after we leave this Oñoro place, by bending down and rubbing my face against my knees I managed to push the bandage off my eyes.'

‘Why didn't you use your hands?' Julia interrupted, making a horrified guess at the reason.

‘After I tried to wave to that car we met they tied my hands behind my back, so tight that it hurt; it was most disagreeable, because now I cannot lean back, and I am
so
tired.'

Julia wondered whether to ask for more details about the fattish man with the beard, but decided that it was better to let Hetta get her story out in her own way.

‘You must have been—
poor
Hetti! Do go on.'

‘So presently we drive again, the man with the beard
always telling the chauffeur to go faster; but in their anger two speak now altogether in German, and one says—
“Eine verfluchte Geschichte!
It is nearly four, we shall not reach Lissabon before it is daylight!” And the bearded man says he will get out when we pass through a town called Santa something, and “
allein arbeiten”
—this means work by himself,' Hetta explained.

‘At Santarem, I expect,' Julia said. In her mind she was tracing the route of the car after leaving Fuentes de Oñoro: down through Beira Baixa on the farther side of the Serra da Estrela to hit the Tagus valley at Abrantes, and on to Santarem. ‘Well?' she asked.