While getting dressed at top speed he cursed himself for having allowed Sabine to persuade him to come back there. The past quarter of an hour had put it beyond all doubt that when doing so she had been largely influenced by the desire, which had been growing in her all day, to spend the night with him. But, to be fair, he had to admit that the arguments she had used were sound ones. If she was right about being able to get away with her story, he was much better off where he was than in Levianski's apartment with many days of unforeseen dangers in front of him. That he was out of prison at all he owed to her, and he suddenly decided that he was being extremely mean in setting against the risks she was running for him the fact that she had fallen harder than he had expected for his deliberate arousing of the memories that they shared.
The truth was that though he could find no concrete reason for rejecting her plan he had, all along, instinctively distrusted it. In consequence, Ribbentrop's surprise visit had at once seemed to justify his fears. All the same, they might be quite groundless. After all, Sabine was the Foreign Minister's mistress. As she was not supposed to be leaving until Wednesday and was motoring back to Berlin, it would be the best part of a week before she arrived there. If he had got through his business with the Regent earlier than he expected, there was nothing in the least strange about his deciding to sleep with her instead of at the Palace.
By the time Gregory had stowed in his pockets his money, papers and his little automatic which Pipi had considerately left for him when removing his other things he was feeling very much more optimistic. Nevertheless, he was not the man to take chances. Having stuffed his soiled clothes into the unlit stove, he swiftly tidied the bathroom and the bedroom so that, short of examining the bed and finding its sheets rumpled, no one would realize that the rooms had recently been occupied.
Stepping softly out into the corridor he closed the door behind him and listened intently. No sound disturbed the silence. Turning up the collar of the blazer, so that its lapels would hide the V of pale shirt, he moved like a ghost towards the staircase. He had already decided not to adopt Sabine's suggestion that he should hide up in the attics. If any serious searching was done that was the very place they would ransack for him. Instead he meant, if possible, to get down to the ground floor, and he hoped to find there a small room with a window either giving on to the courtyard or the terrace. Then, if the worst came to the worst, although he would have to break his promise to Sabine, he would at least be well placed to make a bolt for it.
Sitting down on the top step of the stairs, and using his hands as levers, he went from step to step to the bottom swiftly and noiselessly. From beyond the curtain that masked them filtered a faint light. Standing up and peering round it, he saw that the light came from the open door of Sabine's bedroom. But there was still no sound of movement or voices. He guessed, rightly, that, while he had been hurrying into his clothes, Sabine had spent some minutes there touching up her face before going down to open the gate to Ribbentrop. She would have known that once he had seen the light in her room go on, showing that she was at home, he would not mind waiting for those few minutes while she made herself presentable.
Stepping out into the broad corridor, Gregory now saw that the lights were also on in the hall, throwing into sharp relief the balustrade of the gallery which, with the head of the main staircase, formed the central section of the corridor. On tiptoe he ran towards them, hoping that he might get down the stairs while the hall was still unoccupied.
In that he was thwarted. As he reached the head of the stairs, he heard a door close and the murmur of voices. Pulling up he looked quickly about him. At the ends of the gallery there hung two six feet wide velvet curtains on semicircular rails, their purpose being to form a background for the two suits of Turkish armour. With swift catlike strides he reached the nearest curtain and slipped in front of it, then stationed himself behind the armour. The steel and leather shape of a man hid him from anyone who looked up in that direction from the hall, and if Sabine brought Ribbentrop up to her bedroom the curtain would conceal him while they passed behind his back.
He had hardly taken up his position when Sabine and her midnight visitor emerged from under the stairs into his field of vision. The Foreign Minister was wearing undress uniform: a naval type jacket of dark blue with aiguillettes of gold braid draped on his right shoulder, a long row of medals and four stars of various orders on his left breast. Gregory decided that he really was quite a good-looking fellow and took in with silent satisfaction the fact that he had not brought anyone with him.
That was a good omen, yet the atmosphere seemed slightly strained, for the couple crossed the hall without speaking. Sabine again had on her crimson housecoat, her glossy dark hair framed her pale face with no trace of disorder and, as she calmly lit a cigarette before sitting down in an armchair, no one could possibly have supposed that less than ten minutes earlier she had been in bed with a lover.
Ribbentrop walked straight over to the trolley and mixed himself a drink. As he did so Gregory was alarmed to see that on it there still stood two dirty glasses: his own and Sabine's.
That might prove a giveaway. But the tall Foreign Minister did not seem to have noticed. Having swallowed half his drink, he said:
'I'm sorry to have pulled you out of bed on account of such a stupid affair; but I must know what you have been up to with this man Tavenier.'
Gregory's upper teeth closed gently on his lower lip. 'So he had been right. Grauber had got on to Ribbentrop and asked him to question his mistress. Well, it was now up to Sabine.'
Only a trained eye like Gregory's could have spotted any sign of agitation in her. She had her long legs crossed. From beneath the edge of her crimson housecoat the bare ankle of the upper one showed and from the forepart of her foot there dangled a marabou trimmed silver mule. It began to swing back and forth, but her voice was perfectly calm as she answered.
'I told you last night, Joachim. He is an old friend of mine. I saw quite a lot of him before the war, when I was staying with his aunt in Paris. This morning I ran into him again at the Gellert Baths. He offered to give me lunch, and as I had nothing particular to do I accepted. You know how amusing a sophisticated Frenchman can be. But I needn't stress that point. You must have seen for yourself last night what good company Etienne is. As you were tied up with these eternal conferences, we decided to spend the rest of the day together. Then I had the idea that it would be fun to have him to stay for a night or two. I could hardly do less after all the time he had spent taking me round Paris. He collected his things from the Vadaszkürt and came here to change. After a drink we went out to have dinner at the Arizona. You appear to know the rest.'
'I know about your having got him out of the lockup; but what happened after that?'
'We got in the car to drive home…'
'He is here, then!' Ribbentrop's voice held a staccato sharpness.
'No. And that is the only strange part about it. Just before we reached the Swing Bridge he said he felt ill and wanted to be sick; so I stopped the car and he got out. To my amazement, without a word to me, he ran off into an alley. I shouted after him, but he took no notice. I can only suppose that the blow on the head he had had temporarily sent the poor fellow out of his mind. I drove home and waited for some time, hoping that he would get back his wits and remember that he was supposed to be staying here. But he hasn't put in an appearance or telephoned; so I haven't the faintest idea what has become of him.'