At sight of it his face instantly changed. He held his breath, and then
examined the photograph beneath the light. Afterwards I noticed a
strange, hard look at the corners of his mouth, while his teeth set
themselves firmly.
Next second, however, he had recovered his self-possession, and with a
low laugh said:
"Yes. Of course, I know her. She wants me to write to Julie de Rouville
at the Post Restante at Marseilles, eh? H'm--I'll think it over."
And I could see that sight of the photograph had not only displeased
him, but it also caused him very considerable uneasiness.
Late in the afternoon, two days later, His Highness, who had been
walking alone, and who had apparently evaded the vigilance of the
ever-watchful Eckardt, returned to the Villa with a stranger, a tall,
rather thin, fair-haired man, undoubtedly a German, and the pair were
closeted together, holding counsel evidently for a considerable time.
Where His Highness met him I knew not, but when later on I entered the
room I saw that the pair were on quite friendly terms.
His Highness addressed him as Herr Schaefer, and when he had left he told
me that he was from the Wilhelmstrasse, and had been attached to the
Embassy at Washington, and afterwards in London, "for affairs of the
Press"--which meant that he was conductor of the German Press
propaganda.
It seemed curious that the young man Schaefer should be in such high
favour with the Crown-Prince.
I watched closely. Whatever was in progress was a strict secret between
the pair. The more I saw of Hans Schaefer the more I disliked him. He
had cruel eyes and heavy, sensuous lips--a coarse countenance which was
the reverse of prepossessing, though I could see that he was a very
clever and cunning person.
For a full fortnight the Crown-Prince and the man Schaefer were almost
inseparable. Was it for the purpose of meeting Schaefer that we had gone
to Nice? The man had been back from London about two months, and had, I
learnt, been lately living in Paris.
One evening while strolling in the sunset by the sea along the
tree-lined Promenade des Anglais, I suddenly encountered Julie de
Rouville, dressed in mourning, a quiet, pathetic figure, just as we had
last met.
I instantly recollected that since the evening when I had given her
photograph to the Crown-Prince he had never mentioned her, and I could
only believe that for some mysterious reason sight of the picture had
recalled some distasteful memory.
"Ah, Count!" she cried, as I halted and raised my hat. "This is, indeed,
a welcome meeting! I have been looking out for you for the past two
days."
"I've been staying over at Cannes," was my reply. "Well?"
She indicated a seat, and upon it we sat together.
"I have to thank you for giving my photograph and message to His
Highness," she said in that sweet, refined voice that I so well
remembered.
"I trust that the Crown-Prince has written to you--eh?"
She smiled, a trifle sadly I thought.
"Well, no----" was her rather vague reply.
"Then how are you aware that I gave your message?"
She shook her head and again smiled.
"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,
Delbrueck, 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 identity 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 Schaefer 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 Schaefer!
"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. Schaefer, 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.
Schaefer, 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 Schaefer'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 Schaefer, the tool of His Imperial Highness, had, however, escaped
to Germany, and the police of San Remo are still in ignorance of his
identity.