Free Thomas Ochiltree by Death Waltz in Vienna Page B

dining room, of the restaurant von Falkenburg habitually used for such purposes, she was suitably impressed with the “elegance” of the gilt-framed mirrors and red-hung walls.
    The food was good, décor notwithstanding, and although with every minute von Falkenburg found her empty-headed chatter more trying, he mechanically applied all the charm to be expected of a captain of the Austro-Hungarian Army.
    He suddenly realized that the problem was not her, it was this whole hypocritical ritual which he had gone through so many times in the past, and which he now found tedious for some reason.
    The champagne was flowing freely, traditional fuel of shop girl passion. Lisa was well aware of the role it was supposed to play, and drank it eagerly.
    “You’re not trying to get me drunk, are you?” she said with a reproachful giggle, holding her glass out for more.
    “Nothing could be farther from my mind,” von Falkenburg replied, noting with interest how changed circumstances could turn a habitual lie into a simple statement of the truth.
    She giggled again.
    “You (hic!) know, I’m a respectable girl!”
    And she began to try to sing the song, “I’m a respectable woman” from that new operetta of Léhar’s.
    He was tempted to take her at her word and not touch her. But he knew how disappointed and offended she would be in that case; besides, he had the reputation of the regiment to think of.
    At the same time, the thought of going to a hotel and dragging the evening out still farther appalled him. The waiter was gone, and the walls of the room were thick. Von Falkenburg locked the door and then carefully unfastened his sword….
    With Lisa deposited in Sievering and told that he would not be able to see her again because he was to be sent to Paris as assistant army attaché, von Falkenburg rode back to the barracks slumped in the seat of a cab. He realized now why the evening had been so unsatisfactory. It was not just that Lisa was a silly little thing. He had enjoyed himself with plenty of other girls just like her. It was that her defects made him think of Helena, whom he wanted so badly. He saw now how annoyed she must have been for him to walk out her life, then announce that he was walking back in again for a time still to be determined.
    “I report most obediently,” Schmidt said when he entered his apartment, “a letter for the captain came special delivery while he was out.”
    Von Falkenburg looked at the envelope. It was not an official envelope, so perhaps the letter did not mean more trouble. There was no return address, and the unfamiliar handwriting was of a man – so the sender could not be Helena, as he had immediately hoped on hearing there was a letter for him.
    “I wonder who the devil…” von Falkenburg thought as he tore open the envelope.
    It was with considerable astonishment that he read, “Most honored Captain! I know something of your troubles, and have information that may be of help to you, but the very greatest discretion is required! If you wish to meet with me, I will be spending the evening in the Café Kunstmann, Brockendorfergasse 23. Identify yourself when you enter by pretending to adjust your sword knot. A friend.”
    As soon as he got to the end, von Falkenburg began again at the beginning.
    “Who on earth…?”
    Von Falkenburg hoped that the letter did not mean that the accusations against him were more common knowledge than he had hitherto supposed. If they were, his investigation would not get any too far.
    And yet this “friend” promised help, and God knew, he certainly needed some.
    Could this be a trap by his enemies? An effort to further compromise him? Could this friend be another Röderer? Given the fact that the mysterious correspondent obviously had some knowledge of von Falkenburg’s situation, he must have connections with Military Intelligence or the Staff – the two places where von Falkenburg supposed his enemies must be lurking.
    Perhaps someone did