to you,” the young man assured her.
She laughed up at him.
“That can come afterwards. Listen! Mr. Benjamin seems to have taken rather a fancy to you. He tells me that you travel all over Europe and that you know as much of what is going on as anyone. Tell me, do you think the Nazis who are coming into Vienna are going to be as wicked with the Jews as they were in Germany?”
Mildenhall looked at her thoughtfully. There was no doubt at all but that Patricia Grey was a very attractive young woman. She had a piquant face, soft grey-green eyes, red hair, a slender charming figure and a pleasant voice. Just now she was very serious.
“Shall I tell you just what I believe?” he asked.
“That’s what I want you to do,” she begged him earnestly.
“I think they’re going to be very bad,” he said. “No one knows how many millions the government of Germany has taken from the Jews. The Austrian Nazis have begun, as you know, to do the same thing here. When this country is taken into the Reich, as it certainly will be, I think that they will treat the Austrian Jews even worse than they have the German.”
“Why should they?” she asked. “The Jews are good citizens.”
“Yes, but the German Jews,” he told her, “were the great industrialists of the country. They were behind half the great commercial institutions. They were leading lights in nearly all the professions. Here the same condition of things exists, of course, but the very richest Jews of all are aristocrats. There are many old families in Vienna who have intermarried with Jews, and the Germany of to-day—I mean the government—hates the aristocrats. If I were you. Miss Patricia Grey, I should do all that I could to get Mr. Benjamin out of the country before it is too late.”
“And he loves his home here so much!” she lamented. “His pictures, his tapestry and his china—all those things are his happiness in life. He is one of the world’s greatest collectors, you know.”
“Everyone appreciates that,” Mildenhall admitted. “Still, you’ve asked for my advice. Miss Grey, and you have it. Get Mr. Benjamin out of this country as quickly as you can.”
“You’ll tell him what you think, if he asks you, won’t you?” she begged.
“It’s a promise.”
He glanced towards the door. Leopold Benjamin had made his appearance and there was a bustle of further new arrivals.
“You shall be rewarded,” Patricia told him, “for granting my request. I will now introduce you to the woman all Vienna is talking about.”
Mildenhall was standing quite still gazing towards the other end of the room.
“I think I know whom you mean.”
“Already?” she laughed.
“I met her a few nights ago—that is, if you mean the Baroness von Ballinstrode.”
“And you are a victim, I can see!”
“I met her at Victor’s restaurant,” he said a little evasively. “She was with the Archduke Karl Sebastian.”
Patricia caught at his arm. They were walking slowly towards the others.
“Don’t mention that to anyone,” she whispered. “It would be rather a faux pas here. Mr. Benjamin is devoted to the Archduke and he is also fond of the Archduchess.”
“I will remember,” Mildenhall promised.
She flitted away to greet the new arrivals. Mildenhall remained a little in the background, dividing his attention between the woman he admired and his host. In his simply cut dinner clothes Leopold Benjamin would have been an arresting figure anywhere. He was tall—over six feet—and very thin, but his carriage made his height unnoticeable. His features were excellent and the deep lines in his face detracted nothing from his good looks. His forehead was high, his grey hair brushed simply back. His expression was very grave in repose and it was evidently a very serious matter which he was discussing with the Baroness. Her fingers were resting upon his arm, those beautiful blue eyes were upturned to his. It was obvious that she was making a request of some sort which he was not wholly disposed to grant. He suddenly caught sight of Charles Mildenhall in the background, and beckoned to him with the air of one who welcomes a diversion.
“We will speak of these serious matters later, Baroness,” he said pleasantly. “I must introduce to you a young friend who is making a flying visit to Vienna. He belongs, I think, more to your world than do we of this sober household. Mr. Mildenhall,” he added, “the Baroness von Ballinstrode permits me to present you. Everything you wish to know about the gaiety of this fascinating city she can reveal.”
The Baroness was gracious but showed no signs of ever having heard of Mildenhall before. The latter, grateful for Patricia Grey’s hint, murmured only the few formal words necessary. Leopold Benjamin turned away to speak to Mrs. Schwarz.
“Our host is in an obstinate humour this evening,” the Baroness confided. “I have been watching you from a distance,” he admitted. “If such a thing were possible, I should have divined that you were asking him a favour which he was not disposed to grant.”
“You are evidently,” she said, sinking into one of the beautiful Empire chairs and motioning him to draw one to her side, “a person of discernment, perhaps I should also add—tact.”
“You flatter me,” he murmured. “As a matter of fact, I generally lose my head when I have a really pleasant surprise.”
She tapped his knuckles with her fan.
“But listen,” she begged. “I was really giving Mr. Benjamin some wonderful advice, if he would listen to it. The situation to-night is worse but—you know a little of the Viennese temperament, I’m sure—nobody will believe it. They are light-hearted; they hope always for the best. No one will believe what I know to be the truth. The Germans have two divisions of picked troops actually on the frontier. They will be in Austria before daylight tomorrow.”
“As bad as that,” he murmured.
“Worse,” she answered, “a great deal worse for Leopold Benjamin. I need not tell you how the Jews have been treated in Germany. It is too awful a subject to discuss—especially in this house. But listen, my friend—I know these things because I have influential connections—in this country Leopold Benjamin stands upon a pinnacle. He is the Emperor of all the Jews. No one believes that harm could come to him. All the same, it will. I want him to leave at once. I want him to pack up all those treasures of his—millions and millions of your English pounds they are worth—and take them over the Swiss frontier. He would be safe there. Not only that—his treasures would be safe. He will not listen to me. He will not believe even the late news that I bring him. Look at him listening to the Princess Sophie’s chatter! Don’t you love that gracious stoop of the neck he has? Have you influence with him, Mr. Mildenhall?”
“Not a scrap,” Mildenhall assured her. “He was a great friend of my uncle’s, but I only met him a few days ago and he knows nothing about me except that I am distantly connected with the British Embassy here.”
She looked up at him with a reawakened gleam of interest in her eyes.
“So that was why you were dining with Freddie Lascelles!”
“An old friend of mine,” he assented. “We started our career together in Paris.”
“Later on this evening you must tell me all about yourself,” she said. “Just now I feel that I want to talk about nothing but Leopold Benjamin. Someone ought to make him see reason. He has bad advisers here.”
“He looks far too intelligent to make mistakes of that sort,” Mildenhall remarked.
“He is too kindly. He sees nothing but the best side of everybody. How he came to make this enormous fortune banking I cannot imagine, except that his father had paved the way for him. Tell me, do you know a queer