Wallace Intervenes (20 page)

‘Those women are traitresses,’ he grunted, ‘and, as such, deserve the fate that is about to overtake them.’

‘They are not traitresses,’ retorted Sir Leonard. ‘Whether or not the baroness contemplated betraying the secrets you confided in her for your own vicious purposes, is neither here nor there. She is not a German, though the law may have dubbed her as one on her marriage to the Baron von Reudath. She is an Austrian, and I happen to know gave a vow to you of secrecy, only on your giving your word that your military plans were non-aggressive. You
deluded her. Anyone with any knowledge would have known that they could not possibly be.’

Von Strom was now white to the lips. His mouth kept opening and shutting convulsively as though he were endeavouring to speak, but could not, while his eyes appeared to be very nearly protruding from his head, as he stared at the stern, calm man before him.

‘What do you know?’ he muttered hoarsely at length.

‘Everything,’ was the reply, ‘and before many hours have passed, my knowledge will be public property.’

‘Who are you?’ gasped the other, and a sound very much like a groan broke from his pallid lips.

‘It does not matter in the least who I am. I have come here to demand justice, and justice I am going to obtain. The baroness must be released. Dora Reinwald, who is entirely innocent, must be released. The Englishman, Foster, whose great crime in your eyes was that he dared to love a woman whom you desired, must be released. Why, you cur, do you think you can use your power unchallenged to perpetrate gross, hideous crimes, that call to heaven for vengeance? I do not pretend to be heaven’s instrument of punishment, but, at least, I am here to give you the opportunity of righting the wrongs you have already done, and of preventing a bloody crime that, if carried out, will ring down the ages as one of the worst acts in history. You have paper before you, pen and ink. Sign at once, an unconditional order for the release of the Baroness von Reudath, Fraulein Reinwald, and Herr Foster, and a safe conduct for them to leave Germany.’

‘And what of you,’ sneered the other, ‘you and your black companion? Do you not want a safe conduct also?’

‘We desire nothing from you for ourselves. All we require are the documents I have mentioned.’

Abruptly the Marshal was on his feet, his face livid with rage, his whole body trembling violently with the passion of his anger.

‘God in heaven!’ he screamed. ‘Who are you to force yourself into my presence and dictate to me? Am I safeguarded by traitors that such things can be. Someone will suffer for their slackness, and you, you swine hounds, will undergo the punishment that Sophie von Reudath is about to suffer. You would demand an order for release and a safe conduct, would you?’ He laughed harshly. ‘Fools, madmen, you have walked into the lion’s den and from it, you will never escape.’ Leaning forward, he added between clenched teeth ‘And you shall tell me who you are, the extent of your information, and from where it was obtained.’

‘Quite a pretty display of temper,’ commented Sir Leonard coolly, ‘but useless. Write those orders!’

The Marshal stormed in more violent fashion than before. A string of bloodthirsty and blasphemous denunciations poured from his lips, which was in no wise restrained by sight of Sir Leonard’s automatic approaching closer to his head. He was beside himself, in a rage far too great to take account of the danger in which he stood. Wallace began to fear that his shouts would be heard, and bring people to the room bent on finding out what was wrong. He gestured to Cousins who promptly stepped up to von Strom, swinging his revolver by the barrel. Sir Leonard interrupted the flow of invective sternly.

‘I give you one more chance,’ he snapped. ‘Write those orders for release and safe conducts at once—’

‘Or you will murder me!’ snarled the other. ‘Try it, and see what happens to you and your Indian friend. There is an electric alarm bell in the floor, and my foot is on it. I am just about to press it.’

‘You’re a liar!’ retorted Sir Leonard deliberately. ‘There is no bell push in the floor. A friend of mine who knows your residence well, described this room to me. The alarm bell is rung by that rope hanging by the fireplace behind you. Your chances of pulling it are not very great.’

Another great cry of rage broke from von Strom. He swung round and made a desperate dash for the silken cord, but Cousins was too quick for him. The butt of the little Secret Service agent’s revolver descended on his head with sickening force. He grunted and went down as though he had been poleaxed. Cousins eyed his recumbent form with the air of an expert who had performed his task skilfully and well.

‘“Down to the ground the tyrant sank”,’ he quoted, ‘“His eyes fast closed in death—” Well, not exactly in death,’ he interrupted himself, ‘but he will be as good as dead for some time.’

‘It was fortunate Gottfried knew this room,’ commented Sir Leonard, ‘and had described it to me. His tale of the alarm bell in the floor might otherwise have bluffed us sufficiently to enable him to reach the cord. Turn him over Cousins, and drag him right under the light. I’ll get on with the make-up right away.’

Cousins did as he was bidden.

‘You won’t have to alter your figure much, sir,’ he observed. ‘The padding you are wearing for the general naval officer makes you just about the same build as von Strom, and your height is not noticeably different.’

Sir Leonard placed his make-up box with the other articles he had brought with him on the desk and, aided by Cousins, commenced at once on his preparations, working with the most meticulous care, and studying every line and feature of the face of the unconscious Marshal, he gradually transformed himself
into a marvellously complete double of the man. When he had finished, he stretched himself at full length beside the other, and while Cousins held a mirror over them, compared the two faces with painstaking thoroughness, making a slight alteration here and there. Satisfied at length, he rose to his feet, and he and his assistant proceeded to strip the Marshal of his outer clothing. Sir Leonard took off his own and donned the other. When that was done, he made another careful examination of himself. Cousins’ bright eyes twinkled with delight.

‘It is the finest thing you have ever done, sir,’ he declared. ‘It is amazing. There is not a flaw anywhere.’

‘Now for the voice,’ observed Wallace. ‘I let him talk and shout more than I should otherwise have done in order to be able to study it and catch every shade of inflection.’

He rattled off a series of commands. Cousins listened with admiration shining from his eyes.

‘Perfect!’ he declared, when Sir Leonard stopped, and looked at him enquiringly. ‘You have caught the voice in every particular. It is great. Not a soul will ever dream that you are not the great man himself. I bet you’d take in his wife, sir.’

‘I have no wish to make the experiment,’ returned Sir Leonard drily. ‘Now will you make up Reichmann to resemble the fellow whose place he has taken? After that you’d better remove that stain, and we’ll think of a disguise for you.’

There were many points of resemblance between Reichmann and the orderly, which made it fairly easy for Cousins. Quarter of an hour later his task was finished. He found a bathroom and with the aid of grease followed by warm water, removed the stain from his face and arms. When he had finished, he contemplated the towel he had used.

‘Someone will wonder what has happened to this in the morning,’ he murmured, and rejoined Sir Leonard.

The latter was a little puzzled at first regarding Cousins’ disguise. Several ideas were mooted and dropped – the lack of a uniform causing most of them to be ruled out. A search had failed to bring to light anything, either of a fit or type, to transform the little man into a Nazi storm trooper, or a member of a similar body. Neither of them felt like looking for what they required in any of the bedrooms for fear of disturbing any of the people sleeping in the house.

‘You’re a great problem, Cousins,’ frowned Sir Leonard.

‘Well, sir,’ commenced the little man, ‘it is well known that Euclid—’

The chief interrupted him by laughing softly.

‘Marlene Heckler,’ he remarked, ‘is convinced that you are in Berlin. Therefore it does not matter much if you are so long as you get out safely. You shall remain yourself, Jerry. If she sees you with me, she will have the astonishing experience of observing the Supreme Marshal of Germany in friendly association with a member of the British Secret Service.’

Cousins stared at him a moment, then he also laughed.

‘Splendid!’ he ejaculated. ‘Perhaps she will think I have touched your hard and flinty heart regarding the fate of the condemned women.’

‘Now we’re ready, not the least difficult part of our job remains. I’ll go down myself and shout for a car. In the meantime you had better gag and bind von Strom; then carry him, and afterwards the orderly, down to the hail and place them out of sight. How we’re going to get them into the car without being spotted, I don’t quite know – yet take steps to see that the way is fairly clear, but there is
such an infernal amount of light round the front door. I can hardly use any other.’

‘You leave it to me, sir,’ remarked Cousins. ‘I have an idea.’

Sir Leonard smiled, and departed thoroughly satisfied. He had great confidence in his famous assistant. Cousins’ fertility of imagination was probably the chief reason why the little man was still alive and on the active list.

The numerous members of the police force as well as storm troopers who were on guard in the courtyard of the Supreme Marshal’s residence were somewhat astonished when the main door of the building was thrown open soon after three in the morning and His Excellency stepped forth. He did not seem to be in a very pleasant mood, judging from the irate manner in which he summoned an officer.

‘Order a car to come round immediately,’ he snapped, when the young man ran up.

Commands could now be heard from all parts of the courtyard, and several detachments of men were marched to the front door, apparently to act as bodyguard. Their commanders must have felt a trifle indignant at the curt manner in which they were ordered away again, but it taught them that His Excellency had no wish for any formality, desired in fact to
be alone. Thereafter the police and troops remained at a safe distance. He looked a morose figure as he stood at the top of the steps, the light shining down full upon him. His left hand was stuck in his jacket pocket. Once or twice he stamped his foot impatiently. A little over five minutes went by, then a large black saloon car glided up to the door. There was a man sitting by the side of the driver, another standing on the running board. The latter sprang down and opened the door.

‘I do not require an escort or a guard,’ snapped the false Marshal. ‘My orderly will accompany me, also a friend. You can go.’

The two additional men saluted and marched away. Sir Leonard glanced at the rear of the car and was somewhat mortified to find that it merely contained a luggage grid. He would have sent it away and ordered one with a proper box compartment only he did not know anything about the cars connected with the Marshal of State’s household, and was rather fearful of making a
faux pas
.

‘Ah!’ sighed a relieved voice in his ear. ‘I was afraid it might have a box, which would have made things a little awkward.’ Sir Leonard turned to find Cousins standing by his side. ‘Will you send up the driver to help carry out two trunks, sir? They are to be strapped on the back.’

The chief nodded. The trunks contained von Strom and his orderly, and he felt inclined to smile. The driver was given his instructions, and presently he and Reichmann emerged from the house carrying a long uniform case. This they carefully strapped to the back of the car.

‘His Excellency is in that,’ murmured Cousins, ‘the orderly is in the other. I am afraid he is rather uncomfortable. There is plenty of air, however, and we punctured several holes in each case.
I thought of the notion when I came upon a box room during my peregrinations while looking for a bathroom.’

‘Good for you, Jerry,’ whispered Wallace. ‘It has certainly solved our greatest difficulty. No doubt the onlookers are wondering where His Excellency is going at this time of the morning with baggage, but it doesn’t matter whether they’re puzzled or not, so long as they don’t tumble to the truth.’

Cousins stood by his side while the second case, a shorter but broader trunk, was being strapped on. Gradually his face creased into one of those inimitable smiles which never failed to cause observers of them to smile also. It was as though the extraordinary wrinkles were each puckered in a grin of its own denoting relief from the disguise which had masked it for so long. As a matter of fact, Cousins was delighting in a unique experience. There they were, Sir Leonard and he, men whose names were anathema in official circles in Germany, standing on the steps of the Supreme Marshal’s residence, the one posing actually as His Excellency, the other, without disguise, basking under the protection of his colleague. To make the situation more entertaining, His Excellency himself, neatly packed in a trunk, was ignominiously strapped to the back of his own car where he would remain until Sir Leonard had rescued the women he had determined should die.

As soon as both boxes were securely fastened to the luggage grid, Sir Leonard stepped into the car, followed by Cousins. Reichmann closed the door, and sprang in by the side of the driver, giving him instructions to take them to the Wannsee Prison at Potsdam, first going by way of the Brandenburg Gate, and picking up a woman who would be waiting there. The car glided away and the rattle of rifles was heard from all sides as the men presented arms.
Both Sir Leonard and Cousins gave vent to sighs expressive of their satisfaction and relief as they passed between the great main gates, which had been opened. The little man chuckled.

‘I wonder what they are all thinking,’ he observed, referring to the guard. ‘This must strike them as peculiar behaviour.’

‘No doubt,’ agreed Sir Leonard, ‘but what right have they to think or criticise?’

The car reached the Brandenburg Gate about half past three. Hanni was soon discovered. She had been waiting in a fever of impatience, dread, and hope, and it was a tremendous relief to her when a large black motor drew up within a few yards. Her mind had been too much worried at the time to notice particularly the car that had carried her from Potsdam. She had no idea, therefore, that this was not the same. When, however, a man descended from the front attired in the uniform of a Nazi storm trooper, she received rather a bad shock. Shrinking back as he approached her, she demanded in a quivering voice to know what he wanted. Reichmann was compelled to whisper for fear the driver might hear.

‘The Englishmen are in the car,’ he explained. ‘I am disguised like this because there is a very desperate and daring scheme on foot. You have nothing to fear, fraulein.’

Nevertheless, Hanni entered the car rather doubtfully. Her doubts were certainly not allayed when a light was switched on to enable her to find her seat. She gasped, and her eyes seemed as though they were about to dart from her head as they alighted on the man sitting comfortably in one of the corners opposite her.

‘Your Excellency!’ she exclaimed.

He bowed.

‘At your service, fraulein,’ he remarked, and the voice was that,
in every particular, of the man she had grown to hate. By then the car was on its way again. There was no possibility, therefore, of Hanni being able to spring out, but she was convinced that somehow she had fallen into a trap. In consequence, from hope and eagerness, she was suddenly plunged into rank despair. The glimpse she had caught of the second man had done nothing to lesson her anxiety. He did not correspond in any way with either of those with whom she had travelled from Potsdam as far as she could tell. No interior light had been switched on at all in the first car but from time to time she had caught sight of her companions in the sudden glare caused by the headlights of a motor travelling in the opposite direction. She decided that the Englishmen had been trapped, that it had been discovered she was to meet them, and that all hope of the lives of the baroness and Dora Reinwald being saved was gone. The Supreme Marshal was probably on his way to see the execution and, having discovered the part she had been trying to play in the rescue of her mistress, had determined to take her along and force her to witness her death. It was the kind of horrible, vicious thing he would do. A great sob broke from her and suddenly she burst into a storm of violent weeping.

‘Do not upset yourself, fraulein,’ Cousins remarked gently, ‘all will be well.’

She recognised the voice, and again hope surged through her. She bent forward, found his hands and clasped them.

‘You are the Englishman!’ she cried.

‘One of them,’ returned Cousins.

‘Then it is not a trap? We go to help the baroness?’

‘Of course.’

‘But what of your companion – the man who planned everything? Where is he?’

‘Not very far from you,’ he returned.

There was a pause; then timidly she asked:

‘Why is His Excellency here? I do not understand.’

‘I go to order the release of the Baroness von Reudath and Fraulein Reinwald,’ Sir Leonard explained in his cleverly assumed voice, ‘and bring them away from the prison.’

Hanni gasped audibly. This was something beyond her.

Dawn was just beginning to break when the car reached the gates of the Wannsee Prison. Wallace gave a little sigh of satisfaction. They had arrived in plenty of time. The insistent sounding of the horn brought out a sergeant who, on finding that the Supreme Marshal himself had arrived, immediately gave orders for the gates to be opened, while word was sent to the governor. The car passed in between files of men standing at the salute. A cry of dismay broke involuntarily from Cousins’ lips as the significance of the scene in the courtyard occurred to his mind. Sir Leonard uttered an exclamation of anger. Curtly bidding Cousins and Hanni stay where they were, he sprang out while the vehicle was still moving.

Drawn up on all four sides of the square were men standing grimly at attention. Striding rapidly forward, Wallace broke through the ranks nearest to him. His eyes immediately fell on the scaffold erected in the centre, the block at which a female figure in white was kneeling, the executioner in his fantastic garb, the other female figure standing between two guards. He took little note of the three men and a woman hurrying towards him. Everything depended on his disguise, on his power of imitating von Strom’s voice now.

‘Stop!’ he thundered. ‘The execution is cancelled. Release that woman!’

Two men ran up the steps of the scaffold. The figure kneeling
there was unstrapped, helped to her feet. Apparently too overcome to walk, she was carried down and placed on the ground. Sir Leonard raised his hand to his forehead, wiped away the beads of perspiration that had collected there. He then turned to confront the people who had hurried up to him. The supreme moment of his ordeal had arrived. The governor of the prison, Major Wilhelm, Colonel Schönewald and Marlene Heckler stood before him. Of them all he feared the woman most. She had seen through Cousins’ disguise, would she recognise that he was not von Strom? There was one great flaw in his otherwise perfect masquerade and, at that moment, he was deeply conscious of it. His and the Supreme Marshal’s eyes were of a different colour. He did not think the men would notice, but Marlene Heckler very possibly might. Luckily the light was still too dim for any of them to be able to see clearly. Deliberately he turned away from the woman, directly facing the governor. He looked in a fiendish rage. None of the four standing anxiously before him ever remembered to have seen His Excellency look more angry.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ he thundered harshly. ‘Why were you proceeding with the execution before sunrise?’

The governor, a very frightened man, stared at him, and seemed, for the moment, to be unable to speak.

‘It – it was your own order, Your Excellency,’ he faltered at length. ‘You sent Major Wilhelm and Fraulein Heckler with the written command that the executions were to be advanced to dawn.’

That was an unexpected
contretemps
. Sir Leonard was taken aback but showed not the slightest sign of surprise or hesitation.

‘Did you not receive my second message?’ he demanded in tones as angry as before.

‘No, Your Excellency,’ the other assured him earnestly. ‘No other message has arrived.’

‘Bah!’ snarled the sham Marshal. ‘What nonsense is this? Do you mean to tell me that an order of mine has not been obeyed? I gave instructions that the executions were to be postponed, and that I myself was coming here. God in heaven! Am I served by a parcel of fools or traitors or what?’

The governor pathetically strove to convince him that no message had been received. In this he was supported by Major Wilhelm and Fraulein Heckler, who had been with him most of the night. Sir Leonard gathered that von Strom had sent Wilhelm and Marlene with the order that the executions were to be advanced to dawn, and that they were to stay themselves, see them carried out, and at once carry the intelligence to him. Wallace did not know what Schönewald was doing there and, of course, could not ask. He noticed that the young Nazi’s face was pale and drawn. It was obvious that he had been assisting in an event that was utterly hateful to him. The pretender waved them all aside, and strode forward to the scaffold. The Baroness von Reudath, who had been the one chosen to suffer first, and whom he had been just in time to save, sat now on a chair that had been procured for her. She appeared dazed, her face was as white as a sheet, but she looked up at him bravely. Dora Reinwald, still standing between her guards, was as pale, but her face was as serene as ever, her great eyes full of defiance.

‘Has the great Marshal of State actually relented?’ she asked mockingly. ‘Are we really to be left with our heads?’

‘You are, fraulein,’ he rejoined, and turned to the baroness. ‘Later on I will endeavour to express my sorrow for the ordeal you have been forced to undergo. At present it is my desire to take you
from here as soon as possible. Do you think you are fit enough to travel?’

The wondering, amazed relief that now shone in the eyes of both brought a lump to Sir Leonard’s throat. He turned to a guard, and bade him fetch the woman Hanni.

‘I am quite all right,’ Sophie assured him. ‘I am only anxious to leave this horrible place as soon as possible.’

Hanni arrived and, throwing herself on her feet before her mistress, clasped her in her arms, laughing and crying at the same time as she strove to express her happiness. At the order of Sir Leonard the two ladies, who had so barely escaped a terrible fate, were escorted to the car, which they entered. Cousins continued to keep well in the background, but immediately assisted Hanni in administering to them, refusing to answer the questions which Dora asked him. Sophie was still too dazed to bother about anything but the wonderful fact that she had miraculously escaped a hideous death.

Sir Leonard was eager to be away, but did not wish to show undue haste for fear that doubt might even now be roused. He noticed that Marlene Heckler seemed to be showing a great anxiety to address him, but adroitly managed to avoid her. He still retained his pretence of anger, which caused the men to make themselves as inconspicuous as possible. Fraulein Heckler at length succeeded in forcing herself on his attention. He looked at her through narrowed eyes; then turned abruptly; began to pace to and fro.