The Forbidden Territory Read Free

you the truth, I was—er—thinking of taking a holiday—going down to Monte for a few days—might just as well go to Russia!”
    De Richleau smiled rather grimly. “I fear that this will be a very different kind of holiday, my friend. However, we will not talk of that. It is some days since I received this letter, so I have already made certain inquiries and preparations.”
    “Tell me,” said Simon, shortly.
    “First I cabled to my old friend, the President of the Chesapeake Banking and Trust Corporation—Van Ryn the elder—for news of Rex. Let us go into the other room, and I will show you his reply.” As he spoke the Duke left the table and threw open the door for his guest.
    “Yes, I’d like to see that—I’ll take my brandy withme, if you don’t mind.” Carrying his glass, Simon Aron led the way into the big library.
    It was not so much the size or decoration which made this room in the Curzon Street flat so memorable for those who had been privileged to visit it, but the unique collection of rare and beautiful objects which it contained. A Tibetan Buddha seated upon the Lotus; bronze figurines from Ancient Greece. Beautifully chased rapiers of Toledo steel and Moorish pistols inlaid with turquoise and gold, Ikons from Holy Russia, set with semi-precious stones, and curiously carved ivories from the East. The walls were lined shoulder-high with books, but above them hung lovely old colour-prints, and a number of priceless historical documents and maps.
    De Richleau went over to his desk and, taking a few flimsy sheets from a drawer, handed them silently to Aron.
    Simon read out the contents of the cable:
    “
Rex very unsettled since return from Europe last summer—went lone hunting expedition in Rockies August September—went South America October—stayed West Indies on return trip—went Russia late November against my wish ostensibly investigate commercial conditions properly accredited by me—letter received dated December fourth stating safe arrival no news since—became worried end December put inquiry through Embassy—Rex left Moscow December eleventh destination unknown—all efforts to trace movements so far unavailing—spare no expense cable any news immediately now very anxious Channock Van Ryn.”
    Simon nodded. “Expensive cable that!”
    The Duke crossed his slender legs, as he settled himself comfortably in an armchair. “That I think would hardly matter to Channock Van Ryn, and Rex, you will remember, is his only son. I am not surprised that he is anxious, but if there was ever any doubt about the message having come from our young friend, I think this cable places the matter beyond dispute.”
    “Umm,” Simon nodded. “Now let’s see—today’s the 24th of January, isn’t it? At any rate, it’s nearly seven weeks since he disappeared from Moscow.”
    “Exactly, but there is one comfort: we know at least that he has not been knocked on the head in some low quarter of the town and his body flung into the river—or pushed under the ice, rather—for, of course, the Moskawa River will be frozen over now. He must have fallen foul of the secret police in some way—our young friend is nothing if not inquisitive—and I believe there are very definite restrictions as to what visitors to the Soviet may, or may not, see during their stay.”
    “Wait a moment!” Simon slowly revolved his brandy-glass, holding it in the palm of his hand to warm the spirit through the thin transparent glass—“Wait a minute,” he repeated, “that cable said ‘left Moscow FOR an unknown destination’!”
    “Yes,” agreed the Duke, “and during the last few days I have been gathering information regarding other places to which he may have gone. I think you would be surprised at the knowledge which I now possess of the towns and railways of the Soviet Republic.”
    “How—er—did you set about it?” Simon asked curiously.
    “The obvious way, my friend.” De Richleau’s clever face