Her Majesty's Minister Part 46

Winter came, grey, cold, and cheerless, in Paris. The war that had broken out in the Transvaal dragged on, and the European outlook grew daily darker and more lowering.

Occasionally I had received letters from Edith in Bordighera, telling me how pleasant life was there amid the sunshine and the palms after the leafless dreariness of an English winter. She, however, never once mentioned the man Bertini. Her letters were still affectionate, despite the fact that my replies were very cold and distant.

I entertained a distinct suspicion that she it was who had stolen the compromising letter of the Princess. In addition to this, her midnight visit to that pair of adventurers in the cafe had incensed me. For this reason her letters to me were unwelcome, and I answered them in quite an indifferent spirit. There was a wound in my heart that never could be healed. Edith Austin, it was proved, was the a.s.sociate of two of the most unscrupulous adventurers in Europe.

In Paris matters were extremely critical. Lord Barmouth had been to Downing Street to have an interview with the Marquess, the latter refusing further to trust his secret instructions to any messenger; yet though not a word had been written and though the interview had taken place in the Foreign Secretary's private room, where the doors are double, thus preventing any sound from reaching the corridor, the exact nature of His Excellency's instructions was actually known at the Quai d'Orsay. The thing was incomprehensible; it rendered our diplomacy utterly powerless, forewarning the French of our policy and giving them a weapon to use against us. The mystery was impenetrable. Yet the truth was only too evident. Within four days of the interview taking place in London, Kaye brought to the Emba.s.sy a copy of a cipher telegram handed in at the Waterloo Station Telegraph-office, and received by the French Foreign Office, giving practically every detail of the verbal instructions received by the Amba.s.sador. The way in which the truth had leaked out staggered belief.

The Marquess, on receiving the despatch from our Emba.s.sy, was at first disinclined to believe that such a thing could be possible, but I myself next day carried the copy of the spy's telegram to London and placed it in his hands. It was in mid-February, and the Channel pa.s.sage had been about as bad as it possibly could be. He read the telegram with its decipher, and stood utterly bewildered.

"Absolutely nothing seems safe from the scoundrels!" he cried angrily.

"How they have obtained this is a complete mystery. No one was present, for I myself took every precaution. While this goes on we are powerless--utterly powerless. In order to render our diplomacy abortive the French are spreading the secret of our policy broadcast in every capital. The thing is monstrous, and can only be done with the object of creating war."

"Every negotiation which England has had with the Transvaal since the commencement of the war is known at the Quai d'Orsay, as you will have noticed from the reports we have sent from the Emba.s.sy," I said.

"Indeed, the news of the declaration of war by President Kruger was known to the French Government within half an hour of its receipt by our Colonial Office."

"It may have been sent to Paris direct from Pretoria," answered the great statesman, frowning in his perplexity.

"But our reply was known in Paris hours before it was officially issued.

The decision of our Cabinet was known at the Quai d'Orsay before the meeting actually broke up," I remarked.

"I know, Ingram--I know," answered the Marquess. "Unfortunately for us, this was indeed the case. The mystery of how they obtain their intelligence is absolutely inscrutable."

We sat together for a long time in deep discussion. From his agitated manner and the unusual greyness of his fine, intelligent face, I knew that this man, upon whose shoulders rested the responsibility for England's security at the most critical moment when the greater part of her Army was in South Africa, was in fear of some terrible disaster.

That England, with her land forces in the Transvaal, was vulnerable was known not only to every diplomatist, but also to the man in the street in every foreign capital. Now that Lord Barmouth had discovered the existence of the great plot against us, of which the defiant att.i.tude of the Transvaal was part, active inquiries had been made all over the Continent to discover its character, and it had been ascertained that it was the intention of certain Powers to intervene in favour of the Boers, and thus cause a general rupture with Great Britain.

The plans had been carefully laid. The Boers, backed by France, Austria, and Germany, had fought well, but British pertinacity and pluck, under Lord Roberts, had won their way to the relief of Ladysmith and the occupation of Bloemfontein. With Joubert dead, with Cronje captured at Paardeberg, the Majuba stigma had been wiped out. Besides, Pretoria had been occupied. Now the Continental Powers, having planned to league themselves against us, were awaiting their opportunity to intervene, cause a rupture, and declare war against us on the slightest pretext.

It was this matter that we were discussing.

"The plan has been fostered for two years past," the Marquess declared.

"The hostility of the French Press was part of the programme; the disgusting caricatures in the _Rire_ inflamed the Anglophobes against us, and this--" and he took up a copy of the _Monde Ill.u.s.tre_, consisting wholly of a lurid forecast of the "Downfall of England"

profusely ill.u.s.trated,--"this, coming at such a moment, is more than mischievous. It will fan the too vigorous flames of French detestation of England, and increase the craving in France for war. I have read it, and it is apparently written to show how vulnerable our country is at this moment. I am not one who fears the downfall of our country; but should a war unhappily result, it would be a great calamity for Europe, and for France and the Republic most of all."

"It is an odd thing," I remarked, "that just as this pleasing brochure appears France should decide to mobilise four army corps in the coming autumn. All these corps are to be a.s.sembled in the north-west, close to the sea, and ready for a move if an opportunity comes. This is, I grant, not the first time that such a step has been taken, but it certainly requires to be met by ample precaution."

"Yes," he answered gravely, beating a tattoo upon his writing-pad with his quill. "It is not pleasant to reflect that, owing to the savings on the shipbuilding vote during the past three years, our Navy is not in a condition to warrant a feeling of security. Battleships and destroyers are hopelessly in arrears. An addition to our destroyer fleet--the best preventive of invasion--should be made without delay, as a simple precaution; for the risks are great with our Army absent, as it will still be in August, in South Africa."

"In Paris," I said, "we have been asked by the representatives of the Powers to believe that we have nothing to fear from a deliberate war policy on the part of the Governments of Germany, France, and Austria.

They are all engaged in enterprises of far-reaching importance, which would be injured almost beyond recovery by war. Germany, de Hindenburg has pointed out, has entered with an unparalleled degree of enthusiasm into the struggle for industrial supremacy, with America and Great Britain as her only dangerous rivals."

"To blind us to the truth," observed the great Minister, smiling. "The _Libre Parole_ inadvertently exposed the French secret when two months ago it declared that the bogey of British power had been flaunted in the face of the civilised world once too often, and a small but resolute nation had accepted the challenge. England, that outspoken sheet declared, has claimed to be predominant everywhere. The nations are tired of her pretensions, it insisted, and as soon as diplomacy has been forced to act in accordance with public opinion, there will be an end to this tyranny of the seas. The French forget," he added, "that it is not always safe to try to take advantage of a nation hardened by recent warfare. A country is sometimes more remarkable for military power at the end than at the beginning of a campaign."

"It appears to me," I remarked, "that Kruger demands peace upon impossible conditions, in order to be able to say that England has refused to discuss peace, that she is quite intractable, and that she is, therefore, responsible for the bloodshed which will continue."

"Most certainly Kruger's peace proposals are part of the Continental plot. He knows well enough how to play upon human simplicity and at the same time to a.s.sist his friends," observed the great statesman who controlled England's destinies. "But," he urged, "we must do one thing, Ingram. We must stop our policy leaking out as it does. This has already nearly landed us into war over the Ceuta incident, and must be a constant menace to us. Kaye, who was over a few days ago, told me that you had discovered certain persons who were evidently spies. What do you know of them?"

I told him all that I had discovered, omitting of course all reference to Edith and my love for her, as well as the fact that the Princess had offered me details of the plot upon terms which I had been unable to accept.

"Strive to keep them well under observation and discover the source of their information," he said. "By doing this you will in a great measure frustrate the plans of our enemies, and afterwards our diplomacy can checkmate them. But while all our intentions are known our diplomacy must of necessity be rendered futile. You know these people, Ingram, and with you rests a very great responsibility."

"I have all along striven to do my duty," I answered. "I have made effort after effort in order to obtain the truth, but up to the present all has been in vain."

"Continue," he urged, looking at me with those grave, serious eyes, beneath the calm gaze of which many a foreign diplomatist at the Court of St. James had trembled. "By perseverance and with the help of the secret service you may one day be successful. Then we will unite all the peaceful forces of England in order to break up this dastardly conspiracy. It shall be done!" he cried angrily, striking the table with his clenched fist. "My country shall never fall a victim to this cunningly devised plot of Messieurs les Anglophobes--never!"

The very thought had set fire to his indignation, he rose, and paced the room with a flush upon his ashen checks.

"I trust you, Ingram, just as I have always trusted you in the past," he said, turning suddenly on his heel towards me. "You have a clever and trustworthy chief in Lord Barmouth, a man fully fitted to occupy the place I hold in the British Government; therefore, strain every nerve to thwart the machinations of our enemies. Otherwise there must be war before the year is out--_there must be_!"

"I shall do my utmost, rely upon me," I answered. "It shall not be because of my want of enterprise that this base system of espionage is allowed to continue."

"Good," he said, offering me his hand. "Return to Paris to-night, resume your inquiries, and remember that in this affair you may be the means of saving your country from a war long and disastrous. There is a conspiracy against our beloved lady the Queen. That in itself is sufficient incentive to arouse to action any man in the Foreign Office.

Remember it always while working at this inscrutable mystery."

I took his thin, bony hand, and he gripped mine warmly. The secret of the great statesman's popularity with all his staff, from amba.s.sador down to fourth-grade clerk, was his personal contact with them, his readiness to consult and advise, and his unfailing friendship and courtesy.

I promised him that I would continue to do my utmost to discover the truth. Then, taking my leave, I went out and down the great staircase into Downing Street, where the dark afternoon was rendered the more cheerless by the rain falling heavily; and the solitary policeman in his dripping cape touched his hat respectfully as I pa.s.sed. The outlook in every way was certainly a most dismal and oppressive one.

In obedience to the Marquess' command, I returned to Paris by the night mail from Charing Cross. During that journey I reflected deeply upon the best course to pursue in solving the problem. But the enigma was difficult, and its solution beyond the efforts even of the ubiquitous Kaye and his a.s.sociates. If I obtained leave of absence, and went down to the Riviera, was it at all probable that I could learn some clue from Edith? I was doubtful.

Ever since that night, three months ago, when I had followed the spies to that obscure hotel in the Rue des Pet.i.ts Champs, they had been shadowed, and their doings reported. Wolf had been to Brussels and to Berlin, while Bertini had returned to London; but their actions, although sometimes suspicious, had never supplied us with the clue we wanted.

Bertini was at that moment, according to the reports of the special section at Scotland Yard, whose speciality it is to watch suspected secret agents in England, living in comfort at the Midland Hotel at St.

Pancras Station. He usually pa.s.sed his evenings with a few of his compatriots, playing dominoes at the Cafe Royal or the Cafe Monaco.

Wolf, on the other hand, was travelling hither and thither visiting various people, all of whom were noted in the elaborate system of espionage which was now being exercised upon them.

After a week in Paris I consulted Lord Barmouth, and he agreed that it would be wise for me to travel to Bordighera and make a final attempt to obtain some fact from the woman whom I had once hoped to make my wife.

Truth to tell, I made up my mind to travel South with great reluctance, for so false and untrue had she been that I had long ago resolved within myself never again to see her. But it was a matter of necessity that we should no longer remain in ignorance of the source of the information which constantly leaked out to our enemies; hence, one evening I busied myself in a.s.sisting Mackenzie to pack my bag. While doing so the electric bell rang suddenly, and when my servant returned from answering the summons, he announced a visitor, saying:

"A lady has called to see you, sir--the Princess von Leutenberg."

"The Princess!" I gasped in surprise.

Then, wondering what could be the nature of her business with me at that hour, I smoothed down my hair before the gla.s.s, drew a long breath (for I expected a scene), and entered the room into which she had been shown.

"Leonie--you!" I cried in surprise.

Her rich sables were unclasped at the throat, and when she rose quickly they fell from her, displaying her finely moulded white neck and arms, shining like alabaster in contrast to her low-cut corsage of black chiffon.

Her face was blanched to the lips, the slim, gloved hand she gave me trembled, and her beautiful eyes, usually so brilliant and sparkling, had a look of haunting fear in them.

"Gerald!" she whispered hoa.r.s.ely, as if fearful lest she might be overheard, "my secret is out! I am ruined--_ruined_! And through you!

You have betrayed me to my enemies--you, the man I love!"

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

WHICH CONTAINS A SURPRISE.

"Betrayed you, Leonie!" I echoed. "I have not betrayed you!"