Free Dennis Wheatley - Duke de Richleau 07 by The Second Seal Page B

half the young manhood of Europe; and
you’re already in his confidence. What other Briton can claim as much, and so
stand a chance of heading him off—or, at least, finding out for us when he
means to spring his mine?”
    “Dimitriyevitch,”
corrected the Duke affably. “Anyhow, it suffices for the moment that I have
agreed to take on this dirty work, granted one proviso. I insist on knowing the
big picture.”
    “You hold the
threads of this affair, not we,” smiled Sir Bindon. “So I hardly see how we can
help you.”
    “Oh, yes, you
can!” De Richleau smiled back. “At least, I am assuming that Sir Pellinore
brought General Sir Henry Wilson and yourself here to-day for that purpose. I
hold only one end of this tangled skein. Or perhaps it would be a better
metaphor to say that I am the man who has an opportunity to watch the hand that
holds the lighted match, but can see only a little way along the powder chain.
Whereas you can see where it leads, and are in a position to give a reasonable
forecast of the time, size, and immediate effects of the explosion when it
occurs. And it is on such matters that I require all the information you can
see your way to give me.”
    Sir Henry
shrugged. “I honestly fail to see how our views on the opening moves in a
European war can have any bearing on your mission.”
    “Then I will
tell you. My immediate task lies in Serbia, but I have no intention of
confining my activities to that country should the possibility of securing
valuable information prompt me to visit others. Among the numerous titles I
inherited is that of an Austrian Count, and I own a castle no great distance
from Vienna. My mother was a Russian, and her family are allied to the
Romanoffs by marriage. So I have powerful connections in both those countries.
I am also acquainted with the rulers of several minor German states, and have
often shot with them in their forests. In fact, there are few countries in
Europe where I do not know people of position, who could, if they would,
disclose to me secrets of some importance.”
    “See what I meant?”
grunted Sir Pellinore, with a knowing look at the General.
    Ignoring the
interruption, De Richleau went on: “But unless I know roughly what to expect my
opportunities will be robbed of a great part of their value.”
    The General
nodded good-humouredly. He had been recalling his host’s parting broadside the
night before, when he and Sir Bindon had dined in Carlton House Terrace. Sir
Pellinore had boomed at him: “You’ve got to open up to this feller, Henry. I
tell you he’s a smasher. Never get another chance like it to learn how the
minds of the high-ups on the continent are working. I’ve had him vetted, and I’m
satisfied he’s straight. Had the devil’s own job to persuade him to work for
us. But now he’s agreed, he won’t stick at half measures: and if we’re to get
the best out of him, we’ve got to give him the right stuff to go on. Not vital
secrets, of course; but everything up the Staff College line; and on probable
enemy strategy, a bit beyond it. After all, that’s still only speculation and
we may have cause to modify our own views before the showdown. Dimthebitch is
the feller I want to know about first and foremost; but, if I’m any judge, De
Richleau’s capable of pulling all sorts of other rabbits out of the hat.
Anyhow, since he insists on a high-level survey of the big picture, you and
Bindon, here, have got to give it him. Understand?”
    Sir Henry and
Sir Bindon had taken their departure in a far from happy frame of mind. Both
had long been accustomed to observing the strictest secrecy in all that concerned
their work, and they did not at all fancy the idea of discussing future
strategy and diplomacy with a foreign-born soldier of fortune. Nevertheless,
they both had great faith in Sir Pellinore’s judgment, and knew that he owed
his unique position behind the scenes of government largely to the fact that he
never even