Her Majesty's Minister Part 45

"And how is everything at Feltham?" I heard Wolf inquire presently.

"All works splendidly. Everything is complete." To what did they refer? I wondered. Where was Feltham? and what were the arrangements which worked so satisfactorily?

Again the Italian spoke, laughing low and contentedly, but I could not catch what he said, for my attention at that moment was distracted by the approach of a fiacre, which pulled up before the door of the cafe.

The hood was up, and within the vehicle I saw the figure of a woman, who at once descended, and, as I moved into the shadow, walked straight into the place with the air of one who had entered there before. She was well-dressed in a dark tailor-made gown, and wore a close-fitting hat with a veil. She pa.s.sed me by within a few feet, but, standing as I was in the deep shadow beyond the lamps of the cab, which, no doubt, dazzled her, she did not recognise me. But no second glance was necessary to tell me that the woman who had come there at midnight to meet the two spies was their a.s.sociate and a.s.sistant, Edith Austin.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

THE RED a.s.s.

When the woman who had declared her love for me had entered the uninviting-looking place I slipped back to my old position, but was prevented from listening too openly for fear of awakening the curiosity of the cocher who was awaiting her. I heard them greet her in English; then both rose, and all three pa.s.sed through the cafe to a room beyond, apparently the apartment of the proprietor. Hence I was unable to discover the reason of her visit there.

As no purpose could be served by remaining longer in the doorway, I lit another cigarette with an appearance of carelessness and strolled away down the narrow street as far as the Avenue de Clichy, returning presently on the opposite side of the roadway, and waiting in patience for the conspirators to leave the cafe.

I congratulated myself upon my good-fortune in not being detected, and was resolved to watch further the doings of the spies. I only wished that Kaye or Grew were with me, in order to follow up at once the clue I had thus obtained.

The word "Feltham" was to me extremely puzzling. That chance remark doubtless referred to a matter br.i.m.m.i.n.g over with interest. What were the "arrangements" that worked so well and were so complete?

Truly, the conspiracy of the Powers against Great Britain, alleged by Leonie, was a gigantic one. Each hour brought home to me more forcibly the terrible truth that we were living upon the very edge of a volcano, whose eruption might be expected at any moment.

For fully half an hour I strolled up and down, always keeping a careful watch upon the cafe with the faded blinds, until suddenly Edith emerged, followed by her two companions. Bertini handed her into her cab, and I heard him order the cocher to drive to the Grand Hotel. Then, as they stood on the kerb, with their hats in their hands, she bowed and was driven rapidly off, while they turned and walked together in the opposite direction, pa.s.sing down the avenue to the Boulevard de Clichy, and thence along to the Place Blanche, past that paradise of the British tourist, the Moulin Rouge.

The four illuminated arms of the Red Windmill were still revolving, and the night-birds of Paris in their gay plumage were entering and leaving, for the so-called "life" at that haunt of Terpsich.o.r.e modernised and debased does not begin until long after midnight. I never glance in at those open doors without sighing for my compatriots; and usually fall to reflecting upon the reason why so many English fathers of families, who at home would not dream of going to a music-hall, so frequently drift there with their wives, and often with their daughters. It is a curious feature of Paris life, absurdly artificial, and almost entirely supported by my unthinking compatriots, who go there because to have been there is synonymous with having seen the gay life of the French capital. Alas! that the British tourist is so gullible, for the students who dance there in velvet berets and paint-besmirched coats are no students at all, while the pretty grisette, his companion, is merely a dancing-girl, in a befitting frock, paid by the management to pose as a mock Bohemienne. The Moulin Rouge is no more the centre of gay Paris than is Maskelyne's entertainment the centre of gay London.

Presently, having gained the Rue de Maubeuge, the spies entered that Bohemian cafe, where a charming air of chez soi and good-fellows.h.i.+p always pervades--the Cafe of the Red a.s.s. It has a small and una.s.suming front, except that the windows are profusely decorated with painted flowers and figures, while a red a.s.s looks down from over the narrow door. It is furnished more like an old curiosity-shop than a cafe, and has its particular clientele of Bohemians, who come to puff their long pipes, that hang in racks, and recount their hopes, aspirations, achievements, and failures, when not shouting some rollicking chorus.

The place was filled with litterateurs of the Quarter, and a celebration was in progress, one of their number having succeeded in finding a publisher for a volume of his poetry.

Hence I was enabled to follow the pair unnoticed. They had, I found, seated themselves at a table with two rather small, ferret-eyed men, who had apparently been awaiting them. Then all four entered into an earnest discussion over their bocks, while I sat on the opposite side of the place, pretending to be interested in the _Soir_, but watching them as a cat a mouse.

The nature of their conversation was manifestly secret, for all four looked round furtively from time to time, as though suspicious lest someone should overhear. Wolf was relating some fact which apparently created a great impression upon the men whom he and Bertini had met.

Whatever it was he told them, it created evident surprise.

Bertini rolled a cigarette in silence, lit it slowly, and sat back, blowing clouds of smoke into the air. Loud chatter and laughter and the rattle of saucers upon the tables sounded everywhere, mingled with the constant click of shuffled dominoes and the shouts of the rus.h.i.+ng waiters calling their orders. The Red a.s.s always awakens from its lethargy at midnight, just as do the Cafe Americain and the showy establishments on the Boulevard des Italiens.

The short, middle-aged Frenchman who had been speaking pulled a blue paper from his pocket, and gave it to Wolf for examination. From its folding and size I perceived that it was a telegram. All this time the att.i.tude of the Italian was that of a man who wished to affect an air of supreme carelessness.

More bocks were ordered, pen and paper were brought by the waiter, and a reply to the telegraphic message was written by the Frenchman, not, however, without some discussion, in which Bertini took part. The actions of these men showed that some further conspiracy was in progress, but what it was I was naturally unable to guess. I only knew that the two men whom I had followed were the most desperate, ingenious, and unscrupulous spies in Europe.

After nearly an hour, during which time I exhausted all the periodical literature provided by the management of the establishment, all four rose and went out. The two Frenchmen made their adieux, and the pair whose movements had so interested me walked slowly down to the Place de l'Opera until they gained the narrow Rue des Pet.i.ts Champs, a thoroughfare that intersects the Rue de la Paix and the Avenue de l'Opera. At the end of this, not far from the Palais Royal, they turned suddenly into a dark alley, which led into a large courtyard, in which I soon discovered a small, fifth-rate hotel, evidently their temporary quarters.

I waited in the vicinity for nearly half an hour, until the concierge put out the lights and bolted the door; then I returned to the avenue, hailed a fiacre, and drove home just as the clocks were chiming three.

My vigil had been a long and tedious one, and when I entered my rooms I sank into a chair utterly worn out. I had, however, learnt several facts of supreme interest, not the least being the discovery of Wolf's headquarters. I got my man to ring up Kaye on the telephone, and presently gave him the information, suggesting that he should send one of his a.s.sistants to the Rue des Pet.i.ts Champs to keep the spies under observation.

My statement filled him with feverish activity, for within half an hour he was seated with me in my room, and I was explaining all that had come to pa.s.s.

"Excellent!" he exclaimed. "They will not evade us now we know where they are. There is something fresh in the wind, without a doubt. We must discover what it is."

Then he went to the telephone, rang up one of his a.s.sistants who lived out at Pa.s.sy, and gave him some instructions, together with the address of the obscure hotel to which I had followed the pair of rogues.

Far into the night we sat discussing the situation. As far as he knew, the Ceuta negotiations were at a standstill. All that was known in Madrid was that the Spanish Government had offered to sell that strategic position to France, and that the latter had accepted. Beyond this we had no further information, save that a complete tracing of the plans for the fortification of the place, which had been prepared in the French War Office, had found its way into our Emba.s.sy, where, as may be imagined, it had a cordial welcome. It had been purchased by Kaye from one of the draughtsmen, and showed plainly with what thoroughness it was proposed to fortify the place in opposition to our defences at Gibraltar. With its usual ingenuity the French Government, through its mouthpiece, the _Figaro_, had inspired an article alleging that Ceuta was about to be bought by Russia, in order, of course, to create alarm in England, where the periodical Russian bogey would at once be brought forward. But to us at the Emba.s.sy, who knew the truth, the _Figaro_ article proved farcical reading.

During the past two or three days cipher telegraphie despatches had been constantly exchanged between the Quai d'Orsay and the various European emba.s.sies, and there had been many other signs of unusual diplomatic activity on the part of the Republic.

At last the chief of the secret service drained his gla.s.s, and, rising, left me to s.n.a.t.c.h a couple of hours' sleep before my next day's duties at the Emba.s.sy.

When I arose next morning I had occasion to go to the small writing-table in my sitting-room to obtain some note-paper, but was surprised to find the contents of the drawer in great disorder, as though they had been hastily overturned.

I called my man and questioned him, but he declared he knew nothing of it and that no one had entered my room. I frequently left the key in the drawer, as I had done when last I unlocked it. Whoever had searched that drawer had evidently looked for some private papers. I at once hastily set to work to rearrange them and find out whether any were missing.

Before five minutes had pa.s.sed the truth became plain. A sealed envelope, in which I had placed the letter the Princess had written me offering her secret in exchange for my love, had been stolen. In an instant it flashed upon me that I had spoken of it to her as being destroyed. But it had now pa.s.sed into the hands of our enemies!

Dark and mysterious are the ways of modern diplomacy as practised in the capitals of Europe, but this dastardly theft was not far from being the most daring and mysterious of any I had known.

Carefully I examined each of the papers. As far as I could discover, the only one missing was the letter of the Princess. Who could have stolen it? The only stranger who had entered the room was Edith, and I remembered that on the previous afternoon she had waited there alone before my arrival.

It was a strange thought, but it impressed itself upon me as a key to the truth. Surely she had not visited me for the sole purpose of stealing the letter which Leonie had sent to my room on that well-remembered night at Chantoiseau? I could not believe her capable of such duplicity, unless perchance it were prompted by jealousy. She might have heard of our acquaintance through one or other of those spies, her a.s.sociates, and forthwith resolved on revenge. In any case the loss of the letter placed the Princess in an exceedingly serious position, and compromised her honour.

When I entered my room at the Emba.s.sy I found Lord Barmouth and Sibyl together. She was persuading him to allow her to accept an invitation to visit some relatives in the north of England, for she was tired of Paris, she declared. When I entered he dismissed her, saying that he wished to talk with me privately.

"Ingram, something extremely serious is in the wind," he said, when the door had closed and we were alone. His face was pale and showed traces of sleeplessness. "I was at de Wolkenstein's reception last night, and overheard a conversation between Berchtold and de Hindenburg. There is a conspiracy against us!"

"In what manner?" I asked, surprised that he should have become aware of it.

"The intercepting of those secret instructions which you brought from London some months ago is part of it; the Ceuta affair is another portion; and it appears, as far as I can gather, that the Powers, with the exception of Russia and Italy, have formed a gigantic plot against us to provoke war."

"To provoke war!" I echoed. "What details do you know?"

"Olsoufieff, who, as you know, is my personal friend, dropped a hint which we may take as a warning. He told me he had reason to believe that the secret service of both France and Germany had of late made several successful coups against us, and that the interests of those two nations had been considerably promoted thereby."

"He told you nothing further?"

"He could not be more explicit," replied His Excellency. "Russia, who, according to the Press, is our hereditary enemy, is in reality our friend. If every monarch loved unity and concord as well as the Czar, the peace of Europe would to-morrow be a.s.sured. Yet diplomatic usages prevented Olsoufieff from betraying his confreres in their diplomacy, even though he is my intimate friend."

"And how are we to act?" I asked. "The theft of the contents of that despatch was certainly most astonis.h.i.+ng. How it was accomplished is an inscrutable mystery."

"Sibyl has been endeavouring to a.s.sist us," answered the Amba.s.sador.

"She, too, was at the reception last night, and kept eyes and ears open.

She heard that both Wolf and that scoundrel Bertini are in Paris in company. Surely that bodes no good!"

"I was watching the pair until nearly three o'clock this morning," I explained. "At present Kaye has the matter in hand;" and then I proceeded to explain all the occurrences of the previous night and those that befell in the early hours of the morning. I told him of Edith, of my visit to her at Ryburgh, of her call upon me, and of my subsequent discovery of her at that low cafe near the station of Batignolles.

"Extraordinary!" he exclaimed in wonder, when I had finished. "Then this woman who declared that she loved you is, although an English girl living in a rural Norfolk village, actually a French spy? The ramifications of the secret service of our enemies are indeed amazing.

The plot which has for its object the downfall of England is the most gigantic and at the same time the most ingenious and carefully planned of any known in modern history. Save for the little rift in the veil of secrecy, through which we have fortunately detected the danger, it is absolutely perfect."

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.

BETRAYAL.