Curtain Of Fear Part 13

"Perhaps you're right," he muttered. "But this fellow wasn't an enemy in the true sense-only a dirty little blackmailer."

"He is an enemy now," she argued, "because we had to make him one."

"Anyhow, we've rendered him harmless; and he is paying pretty heavily for the dirty game he tried to play on us."

Fedora gave a hard little laugh. "On the contrary, he got off darned lightly. If you hadn't moved when you did I should have smashed his head in with the champagne bottle. He escaped death by about ten seconds."

Nicholas' jaw dropped as he turned to stare at her. He had been feeling distinctly pleased with himself at the way in which his vigorous action had saved the situation; it was disconcerting to learn that she had been on the point of saving it herself. He could only mutter rather ungraciously: "The little swine would have let out a yell the instant he saw you grab the bottle, and that would have raised the whole place against us."

"Probably; even then, with luck, we might have reached the street and got away. But if you had kept your wits about you we shouldn't have had to run any risk at all. I was waiting for you to pull out Kmoch's gun and stick it in his ribs; then he would never have dared to yell when he saw I meant to crown him. I can't tell you how worried I was getting to see you standing there doing nothing."

"I'm sorry, Fedora," Nicholas sighed. "The trouble is that I'm not used to this sort of thing. I had completely forgotten that I had the gun in my pocket."

Her hand found his and pressed it. "It is I who should apologise. In the excitement it slipped my memory that you are an 'innocent abroad'. Making allowances for that, you did wonderfully."

His good humour restored, he asked, "Was it because you were expecting me to cope with the situation that you refused to go out and get the money to buy him off, or because you had failed to get in touch with any friends from whom you could have raised it?"

"Oh, I got in touch with friends all right; and they could have raised it for me. The snag was that I didn't dare to go and ask them. As bald-head said, there is a big reward for turning in people who are on the run, and that applies as well to anyone who helps them. If I had gone out it is a hundred-to-one that he would have had me followed, collected the cash when I brought it back, then shopped us, and my friends who had given us the money, to the police, so as to be able to collect from them on both counts. In this game, the one unforgivable sin is knowingly to risk involving a friend; so I had to count on you, or, at the worst, having to bolt for it with the whole crowd after us."

"I see how you were placed now," he nodded. "Anyhow, it's a great relief to know that you have located friends who will help us. What do you think the chances are that they will be able to get us out to the airport and smuggled into it while darkness lasts?"

Fedora did not answer. The band had started a new number. A moment later the lights went out. Without wasting a second she pressed the b.u.t.ton beneath the table edge. As the platform slowly ascended she slipped to her knees on its floor and beckoned Nicholas down beside her. When the lift stopped they rolled the trussed body of the old waiter forward so that it lay below the front of the box and could not be seen unless anyone deliberately peered over its edge. Before getting up she thrust her hand into the hip pocket of his trousers and pulled out his wallet. As she had expected, it held his night's takings and was bulging with notes of all denominations. With a low chuckle she held it up for Nicholas to see.

"Put it back," he whispered severely. "Whatever else we have to do there can be no justification for theft."

"Be your age!" she retorted. "To carry on, the Legion needs the sinews of war. Besides, I've a use for some of it myself."

Getting to their feet, they slipped quietly out of the box. Under a light in the corridor she paused for a minute to extract enough notes from the wallet to make up two thin wads each amounting to one thousand Koruny, before thrusting it into her bag. When they reached the entrance the doorman was standing just inside it. After a quick look round to see that they were not observed, she said to him: "You know the girl who's hat I am wearing, don't you?"

"Yes, Slena he replied at once, giving her the old, respectful form of address. "She's a regular here."

"Good." Fedora smiled, pressing one of the wads of notes into his hand. "She told me you were to be trusted. But we've had trouble with that old, bald waiter. Tell her that I dare not leave her hat behind, as it might be used as evidence that she helped us. It would be safest too if she didn't come here for a while. When she comes for her hat, please give her that money and ask her to buy another with it."

The doorman nodded. "Very good, Slena. I'll see to that."

"Thanks; and this is for yourself." Fedora held out the other thousand Koruny.

"No, no!" He shook his head. "You're on the run. You need it more than I do."

"Take it, brother, please." She tapped her bag. "We have plenty; and it may enable you to help someone else."

He smiled, and took the money. "All right, then. Good luck, Slena. And may every one of those dirty Coms rot in h.e.l.l forever."

With a quick "Good night" to him they hurried out into the now dark street, and Fedora said, "I'm afraid we've got a long walk ahead of us."

"In that case we had better keep a look-out for a taxi," Nicholas suggested.

"That's right; and we'll tell the man to drive us to the Berkeley."

"I'm afraid I don't get the joke," he said a little huffily.

She squeezed his arm. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pulled your leg, but you do rather ask for it by continuing to a.s.sume that Prague is not very different from London. The taxis are few and far between here; and if you do see one for G.o.d's sake don't hail it. All the drivers are kept on a string by the police. They have to put in a report about every job they do, giving a description of their pa.s.sengers, where picked up, and where put down. It is all part of the universal check-up which enables the Coms to find out about people's private lives; and, of course for anyone on the run to take a taxi to their intended hide-out is as good as ringing up the police to ask them round in the morning."

There was no moon and the streets were not very brightly lit; but they could see a good way ahead, as there was practically no traffic and very few people about. The latter fact added to the danger of their being challenged; for, as Fedora told Nicholas, the police spent most of their time at night calling on pedestrians to produce their ident.i.ty cards. For them, with no cards, such a challenge would have spelt disaster; so they took every possible precaution to avoid one.

To have hurried would have been to invite trouble, too; so they walked arm in arm at an easy pace, as though they were a young couple homeward bound after some innocent family celebration. But not for a moment did they relax their vigilance, and every time they saw the silhouette of a policeman in the distance they took the next side turning, rather than risk pa.s.sing near him.

This precaution added greatly to the distance they had to cover, but zig-zagging from street to street they gradually made headway in the right direction. When pa.s.sing the National Museum at the top end of the broad Wenzeslas Square they had a very nasty moment, as a policeman stepped out from the shadow of the great equestrian statue in front of the building; but Fedora had the presence of mind to pull up at once, wish him good evening, and ask if he could oblige them with the time.

Glancing at a gold wrist-watch, he told her that it was twenty-five to eleven; then asked where they were going.

"Home to bed, of course, Comrade," Fedora laughed. "And I bet you wish you had the luck to be doing the same thing."

Ignoring Nicholas, he grinned at her. "I wouldn't mind, if it was with you, baby. But I go off at midnight, and I've got a girl on ice for then."

"Give her a smack on the bottom for me," said Fedora, and with a good-humoured laugh, in which Nicholas joined, the policeman let them go on their way.

To the north-west of the Wenzeslas Square the streets became narrower, and Fedora led Nicholas through a maze of twisting ways until, at the far end of a gap between tall buildings, they glimpsed the river. They had now entered a commercial district in which there were no houses and few shops. It was mainly occupied by wharves and warehouses, all of which were dark, silent and deserted. The streets were ill-lit, and Fedora became uncertain of the exact situation of the building for which she was looking. Twice they crossed a ca.n.a.l which led down to the river, and for some minutes explored noisome alleys and sinister culs-de-sac without success. Then, from a pitch-black doorway, a man's voice came low but clear. He said: "John Huss is dead."

Fedora halted in her tracks, and replied, "But his spirit lives on in his people and will endure forever."

Nicholas realised that a pa.s.sword had been exchanged, and knew that it referred to the great Czech pre-Lutheran martyr whose preaching had paved the way for the Reformation. A short, broad-shouldered figure then emerged from the blackness, took Fedora's hand, bowed over it and said in a cultured voice: "Pan Hoovsk, I am delighted to see you again. It is bad news that you are on the run, but you and your friend will be safe here with me."

"Thank you, Pan s.m.u.tn," smiled Fedora. Then she introduced Nicholas to him as Pan Novk.

Leading them through the doorway, Mr. s.m.u.tn bolted it after him, produced a torch and said, "Now follow me very closely, please, because in the building I have installed a number of trip wires; so that should anyone pay me an unauthorised visit they would set off a burglar alarm up in my flat, and give me warning of their approach."

As they advanced, Nicholas could see that they were in a large and lofty warehouse. Their guide led them upward from floor to floor, but not by a direct route. On each they followed him through narrow lanes formed of stacks of crates or sacks until another broad shallow staircase brought them to a higher floor. At length they reached the top floor, and it seemed that they could go no further; but in a corner, cunningly concealed by a rampart of boxes, hung a light wooden ladder suspended from the edge of a trap-door in the ceiling. When they had climbed it they found themselves in a long narrow hall-way with a carpeted floor and coloured prints hanging on its painted walls. Puffing a little, Mr. s.m.u.tn pulled up the ladder, closed the trapdoor, and exclaimed: "There! Now you need have no more fears. You are at home."

It was, indeed, with most heartfelt relief that Fedora and Nicholas followed him into his comfortable sitting-room; which, although small, with its handsomely bound books, pictures and objets d'art, might well have been situated in a luxury block. Smiling at their surprise, he told them that this flat of his was actually a six-roomed penthouse which he had had built on the warehouse roof in antic.i.p.ation of the German invasion, and that he had lived there ever since, unsuspected by either the n.a.z.is or the Communists who had succeeded them. No one but a few trusted workmen were ever allowed to handle the goods on the upper floor of the warehouse, and apart from them only a few members of the Legion knew that the penthouse existed. Its only inconvenience was that it was always semi-dark in daytime, as it was essential to keep it entirely blacked out at night, and the only satisfactory way of doing so had been to paint over the windows and the skylights.

Now that Nicholas could see Mr. s.m.u.tn properly he found that he was a man of about forty-five with black hair turning grey, intelligent brown eyes, and a fine broad forehead. As soon as they had seated themselves in the armchairs that he pushed forward for them, he went over to a cabinet and produced a bottle of Slivowitz and gla.s.ses; but Fedora said: "Pan s.m.u.tn, it is food we really need, if you can possibly produce a meal for us. We have had nothing to eat since early this morning."

"You poor child," he exclaimed. "Of course you shall have a meal, and a good one; for I flatter myself that I am no bad cook. But a nip of this while I am preparing something will give you an even better appet.i.te; and I would like to hear just how great the danger was that you have been in. I take it there is absolutely no chance of your being traced here?"

She shook her head. "No. You may be sure that I would never wilfully endanger a friend, and I am quite certain that we were not followed." Then, as they drank the Slivowitz, she gave him an outline of their exhausting day; but she made no mention of Bilto and gave no reason for being in Prague, leaving him to a.s.sume that the police had got on to them as suspected spies soon after their arrival that morning.

Discreetly, he refrained from asking her any questions; and, when she spoke of the whipping she had been given, although his face clouded he showed no surprise. On the contrary, after she had concluded her account, he said quietly: "You were lucky to have been in their hands for so short a time and to have got off so lightly. The last poor girl that I know of who was rescued from them had to be taken straight to one of our secret nursing-homes. They had jumped on her stomach with their hobnailed boots, and she will suffer for the rest of her life from the internal injuries they inflicted. For you, Pan Hoovsk, I recommend a saline bath to take the inflammation out of your cuts, while I am getting you some supper."

Nicholas raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I know salt heals cuts but surely its application to them is terribly painful?"

"Not when it is applied in the form of a saline bath made up in the correct manner," Mr. s.m.u.tn replied quickly. "It is just a question of balance. When the skin is broken the fluid rushes to the surface, causing pain. If salt is rubbed into the wound it causes the absorption of the fluid, which also causes pain. But the application of salt dissolved in the proportion of a cupful to a gallon of lukewarm water stabilises the situation, and while soothing the pain helps to heal the wound."

Fedora hesitated. "I didn't feel too bad after they had treated me, and while we were sitting still in the Moulin Rouge, but our long walk has made my back hot and aching; so a saline bath sounds very tempting. The trouble is that it will be so painful getting my things off and on again."

"You must not dress after your bath. I can lend you a silk dressing-gown."

"Thank you, Pan s.m.u.tn, but we are very anxious to get out of Prague to-night, and I was hoping that you might be able to arrange it for us."

"You would be wiser to stay here, as the sort of whipping you have had is liable to give you a high temperature. In fact, from your flushed face I suspect that you have a temperature now."

"I'm afraid I have. But we must leave all the same if it can possibly be managed. It is of vital importance that we should get back across the frontier by midday to-morrow."

"In that case I will do my utmost to help you. What are your plans for getting out of the country?"

"I am afraid we can hardly call them plans at the moment," Fedora confessed. "They are no more than ideas on which I am pinning our hopes. Do you know a barman at the airport named Jirka?"

Mr. s.m.u.tn nodded. "Yes, slightly. Anyhow, I know quite a bit about him, and that he is one of our key men in operating the 'funnel'."

"Do you know where he lives?"

"No; but I can find out, and get in touch with him if you wish me to."

Fedora sighed with relief. "That's just what I do wish. I came to you because you are so high up in the Legion that I felt sure you would know about the 'funnel', but I couldn't be certain that you would be able to get hold of anyone at short notice who is connected with working it. As far as I know, the 'funnel' offers us the only chance of getting out of the country within the next twelve hours, and Jirka told me this morning that, given a few hours' notice, he might be able to fix it for us. We had no means of reaching the airport after we left the Moulin Rouge, and anyhow, as Jirka does the first shift in the morning, we couldn't have contacted him till then. Will you please get a message to him asking him to do his best; then, if possible, get us out of Prague while it is still dark to a barn, or some place where we can doss down for the remainder of the night, within easy walking distance of the airport."

Mr. s.m.u.tn reached for the telephone and after a short wait got his number. Then he talked for some minutes in cryptic phrases that sounded to his listeners as if he was conducting some complicated commercial transaction. When he put the receiver down, he said: "So far, so good. I was speaking to a friend of mine, Pan Lutonsk. He owns a small hotel now called the Soviet Worker-Hero Air-Mechanic, near the airport. He will go to see Jirka, who lives nearby, and then telephone me about your prospects." Mr. s.m.u.tn smiled at Fedora and added, "Now I will go and cook you some supper. In the meantime, if you are to face further exertions to-night, I feel more strongly than ever that you should relax for a while in a saline bath and have some soothing ointment put on your cuts."

Nicholas said tentatively, "Someone will have to put the ointment on; so if you'd like me to I'll help you get out of some of your things, and generally act as lady's-maid."

"That's right." Mr. s.m.u.tn gave a quick nod. "To boggle at conventions is stupid when so much hangs on people like ourselves keeping fit to continue the fight. Come with me, both of you."

He fetched salt from the kitchen, then led them to the bathroom, made up the bath, and produced a pot of ointment from a cupboard. As he left them Fedora gave a wicked little smile, and said to Nicholas: "From your gallant offer, it seems that you have grown up quite a lot since this morning, Nicky."

He grinned. "That's true in more ways than one. But, anyhow, this part of my enforced vacation course may come in useful when I'm married."

They made no more jokes during the next few minutes. Fedora's frock came off easily enough, but her chemise was blood-stained where it had rubbed against the angry weals; so while she set her teeth Nicholas very gently eased it off her. To save her the pain of stooping he took off her shoes, and her stockings, which had stuck to the red slashes across her calves; then, leaving her to get into the bath, he turned away to the basin and began to prepare to have a thorough wash himself.

He spun the process out as long as possible, then killed another five minutes in experimenting with a lotion of Mr. s.m.u.tn's as a means of flattening his unruly red hair. By the time he had done he thought it probable that Fedora's bath was beginning to cool off, so he asked her if she was ready to get out. She told him to wait a minute; there was some splashing, and when she called to him again he turned to find that she was sitting on the edge of the bath with a towel round her middle. With another he gently patted her back dry, then anointed her wounds with the ointment and helped to get her clothes on again.

The warmth of the water had relaxed the stiffening tissues of her flesh, so she found that dressing was not such an ordeal as undressing had been, and when she thanked Nicholas for maiding her she said that her bath had not only made her feel much more comfortable, but had also refreshed her mentally.

Back in the sitting-room they found Mr. s.m.u.tn waiting for them. He at once took them into a small dining-room, where he had already laid two places at the table, then disappeared into his kitchen. A few moments later he opened a hatch in the wall and pushed through it a big ham omelette flanked by ma.s.ses of chipped potatoes. As Nicholas took the dish the sight and smell of its tempting contents made him realise how desperately hungry he really was; so he lost no time in obeying his host's injunction to help Fedora and himself. Mr. s.m.u.tn then came round and sat down at the table so that he could talk with them while they ate.

At first he asked them many questions of a general nature about the state of things in Western Europe, America and Southern Asia, as all news entering Czechoslovakia was very heavily censored before being put out in an almost unrecognisably distorted form; and it was by no means easy, even for members of the underground, to keep abreast with the truth about events on the other side of the Iron Curtain.

By the time they had finished the omelette his most pressing questions had been answered; and having brought them cheese, biscuits, and half a currant cake to round off with, he asked Nicholas: "In what way do you earn your living, Pan Novk?"

"He is a Professor of Political Economics," Fedora answered for him with a slightly malicious smile.

"Then he occupies a highly responsible position," commented Mr. s.m.u.tn.

"I can hardly claim to do that," Nicholas replied modestly. "I am only a member of the junior faculty at my University."

"It was not your grade but your profession that I had in mind. All teachers, from the young woman who takes a cla.s.s at a kindergarten to the most gifted academicians, by the very nature of their work are given power for good or ill, and in a far greater degree than that enjoyed by any other caste. Most unfortunately the financial rewards of teachers are generally far below what men and women of their standard of intelligence would receive in other walks of life, and that makes great numbers of them discontented. For that, a terrible price is being paid by the world to-day. Comparatively few of the most prominent Communist leaders have been professional teachers, but it is beyond question that teachers in the ma.s.s have been responsible for the strangle-hold that Communism has now secured on some seven hundred and fifty million helpless people."

"Do you really believe that?" Nicholas asked.

"Indeed I do. Forty years ago, even in most of the backward countries, people enjoyed certain rights and liberties. Why did they give them up? They could practise their own religions without fear; follow any occupation they preferred; read, write, print and publicly discuss whatever they chose; travel without restriction; emigrate with their families to other countries which they thought would offer them better prospects; and if accused of any crime expect a fair deal by their fellows. Why did they surrender all these freedoms that their forefathers had won for them?"

"It was because they believed that the sacrifice of individual liberty would bring an end to age-old abuses, and secure better living conditions for all mankind," Nicholas replied quickly.

"That is not true," said Mr. s.m.u.tn. "It was because they were taught to believe that there was a short cut to universal prosperity. By the end of the last century the majority of those in whose hands lay the moulding of the minds of the next generation had ceased to believe in G.o.d, and the wisdom of his Ten Commandments. Many of them had already imbibed the doctrines of Karl Marx and were setting up a graven image of 'The People's State' for their pupils to worship. A far greater number were merely embittered by their own lot and blindly groping for a means to overturn the old order. They rejected the healthy discipline which for so many centuries had held society together, and instead fostered resistance to authority. They taught that Monarchy was synonymous with tyranny, and that the Commandment to honour one's parents was a sly trick invented by Moses to enable the old to suppress and batten on the young. They taught that to confiscate the wealth of the rich for the benefit of the community was not stealing, and that to covet the possessions of those who were better off was not wrong."

"Even granted that there is something in what you say," protested Nicholas. "I cannot agree that the teaching profession can be held responsible for the Communist revolution in Russia, or for Communism having since become the form of government in numerous other countries. That was the work of politicians."

"In the event, yes. But even the most fanatical politicians are powerless to enforce any form of government without the initial support of a considerable proportion of their fellow countrymen. It was the teachers of the preceding generation who had provoked universal discontent. It was they who had led thousands of young people to believe that, merely from the fact of being human beings, they were ent.i.tled to be fed, clothed, housed and generally cared for by the State, irrespective of how much they contributed to its wealth; and that if the government had not sufficient funds to keep everybody in comfort, then the State must steal the property of individuals and deprive those who worked hard of their just rewards, in order to support those who were lazy. It was the teachers who had conditioned the minds of the ma.s.ses to accept the blandishments and arguments of the Communist politicians, and sell their birthrights for a mess of pottage."

"You must admit, though, that under the old systems the poor had little chance of bettering their lot."

"Nonsense, my friend. In every age men of humble beginnings have found it possible to rise to the very top by hard work and intelligent endeavour. Pope Pius X was the son of a swineherd. Colbert, the greatest minister of France's greatest age, that of Louis XIV, began as an ill-paid clerk in the Treasury. Cardinal Wolsey started life as a butcher's boy in Ipswich."

"Oh, there were exceptions, of course; but it was next to impossible to get to the top in the professions reserved for the privileged."

"You are quite wrong there. Admiral Nelson was the fifth son of a village parson with little money and no influence; and General Robertson, the British Chief of the Imperial General Staff for the greater part of the First World War, rose from the ranks. In the fields of law, medicine, and science, one could quote innumerable examples. As for commerce and industry, think of the founders of the great fortunes in the United States. Every township there has its own story of its poor boy who became a millionaire. In a more modest way the same thing applied all over Europe, when men still enjoyed the right to work at what they liked for as long as they liked and keep the rewards of their labours. Most of them too, far from h.o.a.rding their gains, gave lavishly to bettering the lot of the less fortunate. In England, for example, take your Lord Nuffield. He has given away over ten million pounds, and he started only with a little bicycle shop. Under Communism such men are killed or put into concentration camps; the inspiration they give to others and the good they do is lost; and the ma.s.ses, deprived of G.o.d, ambition, hope or future, are reduced to a dead level of poverty-stricken uniformity."

"All the same, the Marxist ideal still has a great hold on the imagination of many honest and intelligent people," Nicholas remarked.

Mr. s.m.u.tn frowned. "It may have in the West. If so, it is for you teachers to counteract it before your pupils become the tools of unscrupulous politicians. The bait they hold out is the transformation of all countries into Welfare States, but that can be achieved only by dissipating the wealth of their nations. Wherever that happened a collapse would inevitably follow; and it is in taking such a risk, to achieve their own ends, that the Socialists play the Communists' game for them. A national collapse drives people to desperation, and it is then that in their despair they are only too apt to surrender their liberties to the soap-box orators who promise to save them. If their minds have been conditioned by Left-wing thinkers beforehand, they accept a Communist dictatorship without a struggle."

"The Socialists are certainly not playing the Communists' game in England."

"Less so perhaps than in many other countries; but they are playing it all the same. England cannot be altogether an exception to the rule that all over the world many Socialist leaders are crypto-Communists. That is, Party members who are under orders not to divulge the fact that they are Communists, because they can do much more valuable work for the Party by keeping it secret. It is such men who ferment unjustifiable strikes and go slow movements, and, where they are Trade Union Officials, press for exorbitant wage increases; so that by these means industry is disrupted and the ability to keep up exports reduced. It is others of the same kidney in the parliamentary sphere who persuade or bully their innocent colleagues into adopting policies which will gain Socialist votes but can only be carried out to the detriment of Britain's financial stability. That is the danger of Socialism. Everywhere the Communists are using it as a lever to impoverish the countries of the West, in the hope of eventually creating chaotic conditions which will enable them to take those countries over, by a skilfully managed series of coups d'etat that will have all the appearance of being 'by the will of the people'."

"And what do you think of their chances, Mr. s.m.u.tn?" Nicholas enquired.

"Nothing like as good as they were a few years ago," the little man replied. "For one thing, nearly every country your side of the Iron Curtain which tried a Socialist Government has now thrown it out; so, in spite of the terrible drain of the rearmament drive that the Soviets force on them, they have become more stable. For another, I think those crypto-Communists disguised as Socialists, of whom I spoke just now, are themselves beginning to see the red light. They can hardly have failed to observe the Kremlin's method. It is to use such men for the furtherance of Communist aims in their own countries, then when Communist governments take over they are appointed to run them. But for how long? Only for the few years needed by the Kremlin thoroughly to purge the armed services of that country, suppress its church and liquidate all survivors of its old ruling caste, so that there is no longer any great risk of a counter-revolution. Then those men who sold their country to the Soviets are accused of deviation, and liquidated themselves, to be replaced with the Kremlin's own nominees. All the world has seen that happen not once but many times in the Soviet satellite countries. The trial of the fourteen Czech Communist leaders here, headed by the infamous Rudolf Slnsk, was typical. Therefore, I think that while the crypto-Communists of the West are perfectly happy to go on accepting money from Moscow to create every sort of trouble, most of them would now think twice before taking the plunge, if they had the chance to carry their task to its logical conclusion."

"Since you are opposed to Socialism, Mr. s.m.u.tn, what form of government do you suggest? Surely not a continuance of the old reactionary systems?"

"Why not? Although I take exception to the word reactionary. All over the world, and not excepting Russia, there had been a steady improvement in the people's lot for many decades preceding the outbreak of the First World War. You may argue that it was slow, but surely that is better than upheavals in which millions of people lose their lives and the survivors are reduced to permanent slavery."

"You cannot be serious! You would not have kept the Czarist rule in Russia?"

"Her people would have been infinitely better off than they have become under Comrade Stalin. No one suggests that all the old Monarchies were perfect-far from it. But Monarchy, at its best, is the most sensible form of government so far devised by man, because it gives continuity and stability. To appreciate its virtues you have only to consider the Queen of England, and her predecessors. For many generations they have ruled through governments chosen by their people, without power to oppress but retaining the power to bring the leaders of opposing political factions together in times of crisis-as was done by King George V when the threatened to collapse and he initiated the formation of a National Government. They seek nothing for themselves, devote their lives to the well-being of their subjects, are above all Party strife, and fulfil the burdensome functions of Heads of State far better than any elderly hara.s.sed President could do. By comparison, consider how wasteful and inefficient is the const.i.tution of the United States, where for one year in every four the whole country is disrupted by electioneering gone mad."

Nicholas smiled. "I suppose that's true. But what of the future? Do you think the Kremlin will succeed, one way or another, in dominating the world?"

Mr. s.m.u.tn returned his smile. "I can, thank G.o.d, say 'no' to that. Communism is already a dying faith. The only danger of its revival now lies in the West. If any country on your side of the Iron Curtain went Communist that would give the movement a fresh lease of life. But whatever happens now, the years-not the days but the years-of Communism are numbered. It has been tried and found wanting. It is maintained only by terror. Except for a few fanatics who are still too young to appreciate the whole picture, even the members of the Party do not believe in it any more. They carry on because they are the privileged cast and receive jam with their bread and b.u.t.ter, but they go in constant fear of one another. Christianity, Islam, Judaism are still living faiths, but Communism has had its brief day, and is recognised by all who have lived for any length of time under it as the negation of all that man has ever striven for. In fact it is already a back number."

"You amaze me. Do you think, then, that it is likely to collapse?"

"Oh, no. Too many people have vested interests in keeping it going. The only hope of its total dissolution in our time lies in the Western Powers getting really tough."

"Do you mean by their launching a war aimed at destroying it root and branch?" asked Nicholas apprehensively.

"No. To challenge Moscow outright would be too great a risk. One side or other might then resort to atomic warfare, and that would mean the destruction of most of the great cities in Europe and America as well as in the U.S.S.R. Any attempt to bring about the personal downfall of the men in the Kremlin would result in their fighting like rats in a corner. But their claws can be cut."

"How?"