At the Sign of the Sword Part 6

"Bah! my dear Arnaud. We, in Berlin, know all that is in progress.

Surely you must know, you must feel, the irresistible power of our militarism--of our great and formidable war-machine. Germany is the greatest nation at war that the world has ever seen, and--"

"And England still rules the seas," interrupted the financier in a hard voice.

"The seas! Bah!" declared his dusty, travel-worn visitor. "We shall first win on land; then our grand fleet will face those overbearing British. We shall, like the Dutch, place a broom upon the mast-head of the flag-ship of Grand Admiral von Tirpitz, and sweep the British clean off the seas."

"You are optimistical--to say the least."

"I am, my dear Arnaud," he admitted, "because I, as one of the General Staff, know what has been arranged, and what is intended. I know the great surprises we have in store for Europe--those great guns, which will smash and pulverise to dust the strongest fortresses which man can devise, and aircraft which will hurl down five tons of high explosive at a time," he added, with an exultant laugh. "But, I had almost forgotten. Have you had any report from our friend Van Meenen, in Ostend?"

"It came yesterday, and is included in the papers you have there. Our friends in Liege have been warned, I suppose?"

"They have been warned to-day. Doctor Wilberz, brave Belgian, of course, has a secret wireless in his house, while sixty of our trusty agents are living there, quite unsuspected."

"Wilberz was here in Brussels a month ago, and told me what he was doing. Truly the ring of forts will stand a very poor chance when you make the attack."

"Belgium will never dare to resist, we feel sure," declared Captain von Silberfeld. "In a month the Crown Prince will enter Paris. But I must get away at once. I have to be back in Cologne with the dawn. The Staff are awaiting your reports with eagerness, especially those upon the financial position."

"I have supplied every detail," responded the banker. "The position is not good, and even my friend the Baron de Neuville cannot, I happen to know, come to the rescue at the present moment."

"Good," exclaimed the Captain, dropping into German. "Adieu!" he said, placing the bulky envelope beneath his cotton dust-coat. "What excitement there is in the streets--eh?"

The banker laughed grimly.

"It will increase very soon, I suppose," he said.

"Yes," whispered the other, as they descended to the front entrance together, where the long, powerful, low-built car stood with its glaring headlights, in charge of a smart chauffeur, who saluted in military fashion. "Adieu, my dear Arnaud. I must hasten," he whispered, "for to-morrow's dawn will bring to us `The Day'!"

And with a triumphant wave of his hand he mounted beside the driver, and a moment later the car moved swiftly and silently down the hill on its long journey to the German frontier, carrying with it the final secret report of the many made through the last ten years by the traitor Arnaud Rigaux to the Prussian General Staff.

The man who had sold his country for German gold stood for a few seconds watching the car disappear into the night, and then, as the roar of the crowd making a demonstration before the French Consulate farther up the Boulevard fell upon his ears, he turned, and with a bitter laugh of triumph, went within and closed the great oaken door.

A silence fell. No one was near. Suddenly, a few moments later, the dark figure of a man, who had evidently been watching the departure of the car, as he stood back in the deep shadow of the trees in the centre of the boulevard, emerged, crossed the road, and hurried down the hill in the direction the car had taken.

CHAPTER FIVE.

BURSTING OF THE STORM.

A great, long, old-fashioned room with a rather low ceiling, across which ran black oaken-beams, around were lancet windows, high and narrow, with ancient leaded panes and green gla.s.s, the walls panelled with rare but faded tapestries, the carpet dull and also faded, and the heavy furniture genuinely Flemish of the sixteenth century.

On a long, padded seat in the recess of the central window, the depth of which showed the great strength of the walls, Aimee de Neuville sat, her white pointed chin resting upon her hand, gazing away over a marvellous panorama of winding river and wooded slopes, the deep beautiful valley of the Meuse, which lay far below that high-up chateau, once the fortress of the robber-knights of Hauteroche.

The splendid old Chateau de Severac, standing as it did half-way between quaint old-world Dinant, the resent of British tourists, and the French frontier at Givet, commanded a wide sweep of the beautiful valley with the blue, misty high-lands towards Luxembourg. The great place with its ponderous three-foot-thick walls, its round towers with slated roofs, and its deep, cavernous dungeons with inscribed stones, dated from the twelfth century, a fine feudal castle, which had played a leading part in the history of the Meuse valley--indeed, in the history of Europe.

Built high upon its steep limestone cliff, around which the river swept suddenly in a semicircle, it had, in the days of its builders, been a fortress impregnable. Its private chapel bore the arms of the Knights-Templars, and in that very room, where the pale-faced young girl sat, the Emperor Charles V had sat, after the capture of Metz in 1552.

A place full of historic memories, for the very walls spoke mutely of those turbulent times, when that valley was the chief theatre of all the fierce wars in Western Europe.

But the Knights of Hauteroche had defended it always from the attack of their bitterest foes, until, in 1772, it had pa.s.sed from their hands, and having fallen to ruin, had, in the last days of the nineteenth century, been acquired by the rich Baron de Neuville, who was reputed to have spent half a million sterling upon its restoration, and a similar sum in furnishing it just as it had been in the sixteenth century.

Few such splendid strongholds existed in Europe. For years the Baron's agents had travelled up and down the Continent with open commissions to purchase antique furniture, tapestry, and armour of the period, with the result that the castle was now unique. Inside its courtyard one was at once back in the days of the Emperor Charles V, the illusion being complete, even to the great kitchen of the robber-knights, where, upon the huge spit, an ox could be turned and roasted whole, so that the retainers--the bowmen of the forest--could be regaled and rewarded after their doughty exploits.

From every corner of the world, tourists--many of them loud-speaking Americans with their red-bound Baedekers--craved of the Baron's major-domo, a vinegar-faced Frenchman, permission to pa.s.s through the splendid apartments, and when "the family" were not in residence, permission was generally accorded, for--as with all financiers, from Twickenham to Timbuctoo--the Baron, in secret, liked to be talked about.

Indeed, the late King Leopold, who had on several occasions stretched his long legs in that room wherein Aimee now sat, had declared that the view from the window up the river to be one of the finest in all Europe.

Looking up the peaceful valley, where the Meuse wound far below in the August sunshine, there lay on the right bank grey rugged rocks descending sheer into the water green and deep, making a sudden bend; while on the left lay green pastures and spreading woodlands, with range upon range of hills away to the blue haze of the frontier of France.

Beside the river, the road followed like a white ribbon along its bank, and upon it the dusty old post-diligence, with its four weedy horses and its jingling bells, was travelling, just as it had travelled for two centuries past. Truly that reach of the Meuse was the most rural, peaceful, and picturesque spot in all the Ardennes, and little wonder was it, indeed, that the Baron de Neuville, when the great ruined castle had been offered for sale, had immediately purchased it, and renovated it to its present perfect state.

"I can't think why father should have made us come here just in these troublous times," the girl exclaimed petulantly to her mother, a grave, white-haired, well-preserved lady in black, who, seated at the farther end of the room, was busy with her fancy needlework. And then the girl beat an impatient tattoo upon one of the small leaded window-panes with the tips of her slim white fingers.

"Your father thinks it is more pleasant for us here than in Brussels just now, with all the silly excitement in progress, my dear," the Baroness replied. "I have just had a telegram. He will be here to-night."

"Does he give any further news of the situation?"

"None."

"But when we left in the car yesterday, it was believed that we might be at war at any moment," the girl said.

Her mother, a calm-faced, rather stout woman, and typically Belgian, sighed deeply.

"What will happen we cannot tell, my girl."

"But if the Germans come, what shall we do?" queried Aimee, for she was thinking of Edmond, from whom she had had a hastily scribbled letter that morning. He had rejoined his regiment as _sous-officier_, and he said they expected to leave that day for the frontier.

"Do?" echoed the Baroness. "Why, nothing. They will simply march along the valley down yonder, and we shall be quite safe up here. The Germans are, after all, men of culture. They are gentlemen."

As she spoke, Melanie, Aimee's French maid, entered the room, saying:

"A gentleman wishes to speak to M'sieur le Baron on the telephone. Will you speak, Mademoiselle?" she asked.

"Who is he?"

"The name he gave was Huart, Mademoiselle."

"Huart," exclaimed the Baroness. "That is surely the name of the manager of the Sirault Ironworks at Liege. Go and speak to him, Aimee."

The girl descended to her father's small business-room situated in the base of one of the round-slated turrets of the castle, and took up the telephone-receiver from the table.

"h.e.l.lo?" she asked.

"Is the Baron there?" demanded a man's rough voice.

"No, m'sieur. But I am Mademoiselle de Neuville. Can I give him any message? He is in Brussels, and will, I think, be here this evening."

"I am Huart, speaking from the works at Liege. War has broken out."

"War?" gasped the girl, holding her breath.

"Yes. Eighty thousand Germans are advancing towards the river, and we are already defending Liege against them. Terrible fighting is taking place. Hark! Listen to our forts! Can you hear?"

The girl listened, and for the first time heard the thunder of war--a dull, low roar in the receiver.