The Mischief-Maker Part 61

Falkenberg calmly turned on the electric light.

"Still here, my friend?" he remarked significantly.

Estermen began to tremble.

"There is plenty of time," he faltered. "I am not sure about the man opposite. It may be some one else he is watching."

Falkenberg walked to the window and stood there in the full glare of the light. The man opposite was still sipping his eternal coffee. He glanced casually at Falkenberg and back at his paper.

"You fool!" the latter said to Estermen. "Can't you see that he is waiting only to draw the others in? Do you know that I--I, Von Falkenberg, Chancellor of Germany, have received what they are pleased to call a hint from the French Minister of Police that it would be advisable for me to leave Paris? This is your blundering, Estermen!"

"Not mine only," the man muttered. "Do you know that there are those who wait for you in your rooms?"

Falkenberg turned away.

"Stay here till I return," he ordered.

He turned the key of his own apartments and entered. His servant hurried up to him.

"There waits for Your Highness," he announced, "the Baron von Neudheim."

Falkenberg started.

"Here?" he exclaimed.

"In His Excellency's private apartment. There waits also--"

Falkenberg had already departed. He opened the door of his room. His secretary rose hastily to his feet.

"What do you here, Neudheim?" Falkenberg demanded. "What has happened?"

"Excellency," the young man replied, "there is trouble. Within half an hour of your leaving, I had important news. I dared not telegraph. I have followed you. I took a special train from the frontier."

"Go on," Falkenberg said calmly. "It is something serious?"

"Indeed, yes, Your Excellency!" the Baron continued. "It is concerning the Agdar matter."

Falkenberg's face lit up.

"An ultimatum!" he exclaimed. "So much the better!"

Baron von Neudheim shook his head.

"For once, I am afraid," he said, "we have been trapped. His Excellency himself sent for me. The reply from Downing Street has been received."

"Well?" Falkenberg interrupted impatiently.

"Your Excellency, the reply to our note is exceedingly courteous. It states that the unrest referred to had already been reported to the British Government, and a warship which left Portsmouth under sealed orders some months ago was instructed to proceed to the port last week.

The note goes on to state that no intimation was given to Germany, as the British Government was not aware that Germany had any interests, but it further contains an a.s.surance that the welfare of all white men will receive equal attention." Falkenberg set his teeth.

"What battleship was sent?" he asked.

"The 'Aida,'" the young man replied slowly,--"a first-cla.s.s cruiser, twenty-six thousand tons."

Falkenberg was silent for a moment. His face had grown dark.

"And ours," he muttered, "was a third-rate gunboat! Who in all Downing Street could have planned a coup like this?"

"It was Sir Julien Portel--his last official action," the Baron answered. "The papers to-morrow will be full of this. The Press of Germany and England and France have the whole story."

"Which is to say," Falkenberg exclaimed, "that we are to be the laughing-stock of Europe! Anything else?"

"There is an imperial summons commanding your presence at Potsdam at once," Neudheim acknowledged reluctantly.

"I start for the frontier in a quarter of an hour," Falkenberg decided.

"I shall drive to Chalons and telegraph for a special train from there."

"You will let me accompany you?" the young man begged.

Falkenberg hesitated, then he shook his head.

"No, it is my wish that you return by train. Take a day's holiday, if you will. You will be back in time."

The young man's expression was clouded. He was obviously disappointed.

"But, Excellency," he pleaded, "there is trouble in Berlin. It is best, indeed, that I should be by your side."

Falkenberg held out his hand.

"My dear Fritz," he replied, "you will obey my orders, as you always have done. It is my wish that you return by the ordinary train to-morrow night."

"There is nothing I can do--no message--"

"Nothing!" Falkenberg interrupted. "Look after yourself. Leave me now, if you please."

The young man moved reluctantly towards the door.

"Excellency," he protested, "I do not desire a day's holiday. Things in Berlin are bad. Let us talk together on our way north. You have never yet known defeat. We can plan our way through, or fight it. Don't tell me to leave you, dear master!" he wound up, with a sudden change of tone. "There are still ways."

Falkenberg laid his hand upon the young man's shoulder.

"Fritz," he said, "my orders, if you please! Remember that I never suffer them to be disputed. Goodbye!"

The young man left the room. As he pa.s.sed down the stairs he shivered.

Falkenberg pa.s.sed into an inner apartment. Already he had guessed who it was waiting for him. Mademoiselle rose to her feet with a little cry.

"At last!" she exclaimed. "Dear maker of toys, how long you have been!

How weary it has been to wait!"