The Secrets Of Potsdam Part 15

"I had my own means of discovery. By certain signs I knew that you had carried out your promise," she said. "But as I have heard nothing, I wish you, if you will, to deliver another message--a very urgent one.

Tell him I must see him, for I dread daily lest the truth of the Kaiser's real intentions be known at the Quai d'Orsay."

"Certainly," was my polite reply. "I will deliver your message this evening."

"Tell him that my sole desire is to act in the interests of the Emperor and himself," she urged.

"But, forgive me," I said, "I cannot see why you should interest yourself in the Crown-Prince if he declines to communicate with you."

"I have my reasons, Count von Heltzendorff," was her rather haughty reply. "Please tell him that the matter will not brook further delay."

I had seen in the London newspapers during the past week how eagerly the English journalists, with the dust cast into their eyes, were blindly advocating that the British public should welcome the great German national movement, headed by Baron von Gessler, supported by Ballin, Delbruck, and Von Wedel, with the hearty co-operation of the Emperor and the Imperial Chancellor--the movement to establish better relations with Great Britain.

I knew that the secret should at all hazards be kept, and that night I told the Crown-Prince of my second meeting with the pretty woman in black and her urgent request.

He laughed, but made no remark. Yet I knew by his tone that he was not so easy in his mind as he desired me to believe.

It also seemed strange why, if the young Frenchwoman was so desirous of meeting him, she did not call at the Villa.

About a week later it suddenly occurred to me to endeavour to discover the real ident.i.ty of the lady in black, but as I was not certain whether she actually lived in Nice it was rather difficult. Nevertheless, by invoking the aid of my friend Belabre, inspector of the Surete of Nice, and after waiting a few days I made an astounding discovery, namely, that the lady who called herself De Rouville was an Italian cafe concert singer named Irene Speroni--the woman who had aroused the jealousy of the Crown-Princess! And she knew that important State secret of Germany!

The situation was, I saw, a most serious one. Indeed, I felt it my duty to mention my discovery to His Highness, when, to my surprise, he was not in the least angry. He merely said:

"It is true, Heltzendorff--true what the Crown-Princess declared--that I went to Wiesbaden and that I gave the woman a pair of emerald earrings which I ordered from old Vollgold. But there was no reason for jealousy.

I saw the woman, and gave her the present in the hope of closing her lips."

In a moment I understood. The pretty variety artiste was endeavouring to levy blackmail. But how could she, in her position, have learnt the secret of the Emperor's intentions?

She was, I found, living as Signorina Speroni, with her maid, at the Hotel Bristol over at Beaulieu, just across the blue bay of Villefranche, and as the days went on I realized the imminent danger of exposure, and wondered if the Kaiser knew of it.

I made a remark to that effect to His Highness one morning, whereupon he replied:

"Don't disturb yourself, my dear Heltzendorff! I have not overlooked the matter, for it is one that closely concerns both the Emperor and myself.

The woman obtained the secret by opening the dispatch-box of one who believed her to be his friend, and then she attempted to use her knowledge in order to drag me into her net. But I do not think I am very likely to be caught--eh?"

At that moment Herr Schafer entered the room, therefore further discussion was out of the question.

From inquiries I made later on I found that the concert singer had suddenly left the hotel, therefore I went over to Beaulieu and had an instructive chat with the hall porter, a German of course. From him I learnt that the Signorina had been staying there ever since the date when we had arrived at Nice, and, further, that two gentleman had been frequently in the habit of calling upon her. One was a smart young Frenchman who came in a motor-car, and the other was a German. From the description of the latter I at once came to the conclusion that it was none other than Herr Schafer!

"The one gentleman did not know of the other's visits," said the bearded porter, with a laugh. "The Signorina always impressed silence upon me, because she thought one would be jealous of the other. The German gentleman seemed very deeply in love with her, and she called him Hans.

He accompanied her when she left here for San Remo."

I reported this to His Highness, but he made no remark. That some devilish plot was being carried out I suspected. The Hohenzollerns are ready to go to any length to prevent their black secrets from leaking out.

My surmise proved correct, for, a week later, some fishermen found upon the brown rocks near Capo Verde, beyond San Remo, the body of a woman, fully dressed, afterwards identified as that of Irene Speroni, the singer so popular in Rome.

It was proved that on the previous night she had been seen by two peasants walking along the sea road near San Lorenzo, accompanied by a tall, thin man, who seemed greatly excited, and was talking in German.

It was believed by the Italian police that the unknown German, in a fit of jealousy, threw her into the sea.

From facts I gathered some months later I realized that the whole plot had been most cunningly conceived by the Crown-Prince. Schafer, after his return from America, had met the woman Speroni, who was performing in London, and she had, unknown to him, opened his dispatch-box, and from some secret correspondence had learned the real truth regarding the proposed _entente_ which the Emperor contemplated.

Schafer, alarmed at the woman's knowledge, and yet fascinated by her charms, had gone to the Crown-Prince, and he, in turn, had seen the woman in Wiesbaden. Finding her so dangerous to the Emperor's plans, His Highness then conceived a fiendish plot. He first introduced her to a young French Marquis, de Vienne by name, who pestered her with his attentions, and followed her to Beaulieu. Having so far succeeded, the Crown-Prince went to Nice, and cleverly played upon Schafer's love for the woman, pointing out that she was playing a double game, and urging him to watch.

He did so, and discovered the truth. Then there occurred the tragedy of jealousy, exactly as the police believed.

Herr Schafer, the tool of His Imperial Highness, had, however, escaped to Germany, and the police of San Remo are still in ignorance of his ident.i.ty.

SECRET NUMBER SIX

THE AFFAIR OF THE HUNCHBACKED COUNTESS

I suppose that none of your British friends have ever heard the name of Thyra Adelheid von Kienitz.

She was a funny little deformed person, aged, perhaps, seventy, widow of the great General von Kienitz, who had served in the Franco-German campaign, and who, before his death, had been acknowledged to be as great a strategist as your own Lord Roberts, whom every good German--I did not write Prussian--salutes in reverence.

Countess von Kienitz was the daughter of a certain Countess von Borcke, and after living for many years in retirement in her picturesque old schloss perched on a rock not far from the famous wine district of Berncastel, on the winding Mosel river, became suddenly seized with an idea to re-enter Berlin society.

With this view she rented a fine house not far from the Liechtenstein Bridge, and early in 1911 commenced a series of wildly-extravagant entertainments--luncheons, dinners, and supper concerts, at which were artistes to whom three-thousand-mark fees were often paid--with a view, as it seemed to me, to attract the more modern and go-ahead section of Berlin society.

At first the smarter set looked askance at the ugly, deformed, painted-up old woman with the squeaky voice, and they strenuously declined invitations to her splendid, newly-furnished mansion in the Stulerstra.s.se. Indeed, the name of the Countess von Kienitz became synonymous for all that was grotesque, and her painted, doll-like countenance and yellow wig were the laughing-stock of both the upper and middle cla.s.ses.

Nevertheless she strenuously endeavoured to surround herself with young society of both s.e.xes, and many smart dances were given at the Stulerstra.s.se during the season--dances at which the swaggering Prussian officer was seen at his gorgeous best.

One afternoon, seated by the Crown-Prince as he drove recklessly his great Mercedes car along the Bismarckallee in the direction of Potsdam, we pa.s.sed an overdressed old woman, very artificial, with yellow hair, and short of stature.

"Look, Heltzendorff! Is she not like that old crow, Von Kienitz?"

"Yes, her figure is very similar," I admitted.

"Ah! The old woman was introduced to me the other night at Bismarck-Bohlen's house. _Himmel!_ What a freak! Have you seen her wig?"

I replied that I had visited once or twice at the Stulerstra.s.se, and that the company I had met there were certainly amusing. I mentioned some of their names, among them that of young Von Ratibor, Major Gersdorff, of the Death's Head Hussars, Von Heynitz, of the Konigsjager, a well-known man about town, his friend Winterfeld, together with a number of ladies of the very ultra go-ahead set. At this His Highness seemed highly interested.

"She certainly seems a very curious old person," he laughed. "Fancies that she's but twenty-five, and actually had the audacity to dance at Bismarck-Bohlen's. Somebody was cruel enough to ask her to sing a French _chansonnette_!"

"Did she?" I inquired.

"Of course. She put herself into a martial att.i.tude, and sang something about 'Le drapeau' of 'Jacques Bonhomme,' as though we wished to know anything about it. The man who suggested the song was sorry."

I laughed heartily. Sometimes the Crown-Prince could be humorous, and it certainly must have been distinctly quaint when, as a result of the joke played upon the old Countess, she so completely turned the tables upon the party by singing a song full of French sentiment.

That circ.u.mstance told me that she must be a very clever old lady, even though she wore that tow-coloured wig which sometimes on nights of merriment got a trifle askew.

Judge my great surprise, however, when, about six weeks later, Frau von Alvensleben, the pretty _Grande Maitresse_ of the Court of the Crown-Princess, stopped me in one of the corridors of the Marmor Palace and, drawing me aside, whispered:

"I have news for you, my dear Count. We have a new arrival at Court--Frau Yellow-Wig."