During the week which followed my return to London, events followed
thick and fast upon each other. The now famous Ultimatum issued by the
enemy, though surprising enough at the time, was not altogether
unexpected. Its presumptuous tone, however, was the cause of general
comment. As a matter of fact, it was not until it became known that the
enemy, instead of waiting to be attacked in their own territory, had
invaded that of Her Majesty the Queen, that the first feeling of
amazement changed to one of anger, and, if the truth must be told, to
one of no little anxiety. Our Force at the front was well known to be
inadequate, and, as we had the best of reasons for being aware, a
considerable time would have to elapse before it would be possible for
it to be supplemented.
In my new capacity as a member of the Cabinet, my knowledge of the
country in which we were about to fight stood me in good stead;
consequently, I was kept busily employed after my return to England. The
situation, as I have already said, was one of considerable anxiety, but
as soon as it was announced that that popular soldier, Sir William
Woller, had been selected to proceed to the South, in order to take up
the Chief Command, the public fears were in a great measure allayed.
With perhaps but three exceptions, no more popular choice could have
been made, and I do not think I am breaking faith with my colleagues
when I say that we were all agreed upon this point. The decision was
arrived at on Wednesday afternoon, and orders were issued that the
General in question should sail from Southampton on the following
Saturday. On the Friday morning he was to be present at an important
Council at the War Office; in the afternoon he was to be received in
Audience at Windsor, and at eleven o'clock on Saturday morning he was
due to leave Waterloo for Southampton Docks.
Now, Woller and I had been friends for many years, and immediately his
appointment was made known, I hastened to write him a letter of
congratulation. In it I said that if he should have sufficient time at
his disposal to allow me a chance of seeing him, before he left London,
I should like to shake him by the hand and wish him God-speed. He
replied to the effect that he would be dining with the
Commander-in-Chief on Friday evening, and informed me that I was to be
one of the party. In confirmation of this the next post brought me an
invitation which I hastened to accept.
In due course Friday evening arrived, and the appointed hour found me at
the Commander-in-Chief's residence in Bruton Street. I had already been
informed that it was to be quite a small and friendly affair--as a
matter of fact, the guest of the evening, myself, and two other friends,
constituted the party. I was the first to arrive, Sir George Brandon
followed me, Berkeley Burroughes came next, and as soon as he had put in
an appearance, we only required Woller to make the number complete. He
was late, however. Eight o'clock struck, and still there was no sign of
him. Our host, in apologising for the delay, reminded us that, owing to
the multitudinous claims upon Sir William's time, it might be impossible
for him to avoid being just a little late. When, however, the clock upon
the mantel-piece stood at half-past eight, we began to look at each
other and to wonder what could have become of him. At last the
Commander-in-Chief was unable to bear the suspense any longer.
"If you will excuse me," he said, "I will telephone to his house, and
find out at what time he left there. Woller is such a punctual man that
this delay is, to say the least of it, extraordinary."
He left the room, and during his absence we kept up that desultory kind
of conversation with which one endeavours to cover the uneasiness caused
by the non-arrival of an anticipated guest. A few moments later the
Commander-in-Chief returned with a puzzled expression upon his face.
"It becomes more inexplicable every minute," said he. "From what I can
gather Woller has not been seen at his house since he left it for
Windsor. It is really most singular, and I am at a loss to know what
construction to put upon it. However, if you have no objection, we will
give him another quarter of an hour's grace, and if he is not here then,
go into dinner."
We waited the allotted time with what patience we could command, and
when it had expired, left the drawing-room and proceeded to the
dining-room, where we sat down to the long-delayed meal.
I cannot pretend for a moment that the meal was a success. The
non-appearance of our old friend, the man who on the morrow was to leave
England on one of the most important errands she has ever intrusted to a
son, sat like a wet blanket upon us. If at the last moment he had been
prevented from coming, how was it that he had not sent a note of apology
and explanation to his host? Had he met with an accident, or been taken
suddenly ill, he would at least have given instructions that a telegram
should be sent. Woller, as we were well aware, was the pink of
politeness; he was also a strict disciplinarian, not only of others, but
also of himself. That he would, therefore, have treated with discourtesy
a man who besides being his senior officer was also his old friend, was
the most unlikely thing in the world. There were special reasons that
prevented us discussing the matter in all its bearings just then, but
that we were all equally disquieted by his absence was quite certain. I
was the first to leave the house, and I can remember that it was exactly
a quarter past eleven when the front door closed behind me. Up to that
moment no word of apology, excuse, or explanation had been received from
the missing man.
"It's just possible that I may find a message from him awaiting me when
I reach home," I said to myself as I took my place in my brougham.
I was destined to be disappointed, however.
There were several letters and two telegrams lying upon my table, but
not one of any sort from Woller.
"Are you quite sure that no messenger has called from Sir William
Woller?" I asked Williams, when he came to my dressing-room, a quarter
of an hour later.
"No, sir, I am quite sure of that," he replied; "had any one called I
should have been informed of it."
With that assurance I was perforce compelled to be content. I can give
you my word, however, that I was by no means easy in my mind concerning
Sir William's silence.
Next morning, when I was in the middle of my breakfast, a note was
handed me from the Commander-in-Chief. It ran as follows:--
"DEAR MANDERVILLE,--Could you spare me ten minutes as soon as
possible after your receipt of this? I would call upon you myself,
but for various reasons, which I will explain to you when I see
you, I am unable to leave the house until I go down to Pall Mall."
Here followed an assurance that the writer was very truly mine, his
signature, and a postscript to the effect that the bearer would wait for
an answer. I scribbled a hasty reply, saying that I would come round to
Bruton Street at once, and as soon as I had made my toilet, called a cab
and set off. On my arrival there I was shown direct to the
Commander-in-Chief's study, where I found him awaiting my coming with
considerable impatience.
"It is very good of you to come so promptly," he said. "To tell you the
truth, I am very uneasy, and as we are both old friends of the man, I
thought I would consult you in an _ex-officio_ capacity, before going to
the Secretary of State for War."
"I am to gather from this, I suppose, that up to the present, you have
not heard anything of Woller," I answered, with a little sinking of the
heart, for I made sure that morning would dispel the mystery that
enveloped his behaviour.
"You have guessed correctly," he said. "I have caused the most careful
enquiries to be made, and have learnt that he left Windsor by the 3.25
train, reached Paddington at 4.2, entered a cab there, and has not
since been heard of. Unfortunately, as nobody seems to have been aware
of his identity, the number of the cab was not taken, and, so far as we
are able to ascertain, none of the drivers in the station-yard at the
time appear to be able to recollect whose vehicle it was that he
employed. If you reflect that it has been arranged that he shall leave
London for Southampton at eleven o'clock this morning, and that an
enormous crowd will be at the station to see him off, it will at once
become evident to you that his non-appearance will be far from making a
good impression upon the public mind."
"But what has become of him? He can't have vanished into space."
"There are many other ways in which he might disappear," said my
companion gloomily.
"Surely you don't suppose he has been the victim of foul play?"
I put the question hesitatingly, for I knew the thoughts that were in my
own mind.
"I scarcely know what to think," the other replied. "I can only confess
that I am alarmed, seriously alarmed, by his prolonged absence. Woller,
as you know, is a man who realises to the full the responsibilities
entailed by his present position. Duty with him is more than duty, it
is a matter of life and death; he knows that the eyes of England, of
Europe, and I might even say of the whole world, are upon him, and for
that reason alone I feel sure he would not cause us so much anxiety of
his own free will."
"In that case, what do you intend doing?" I enquired, for I could well
foresee the terrible trouble to which the situation would give rise. "It
is now a quarter to ten, and in little more than an hour he will be
expected at Waterloo. If the crowd don't see him they will begin to
wonder, the man in the street will begin to talk, the newspapers will
take up the tale, and in a few hours we shall have entered on a new
phase of the situation."
The Commander-in-Chief rose and began to pace the room.
"I have already sent a special messenger with a letter to the Secretary
of State," he replied. "In it I have told him what I fear and also what
I have done. I shall consult the various heads of Departments as soon as
I reach Pall Mall, on the bare chance that one of them may be able to
elucidate the mystery.
"At the same time I should communicate with the railway authorities, if
I were you," I continued. "I should inform them that, owing to the fact
of his being detained by matters of the greatest importance, it is
possible that Woller may not be able to travel by that particular
train."
"That is a good idea," the Commander-in-Chief replied; "I will act upon
it at once. In the event of our receiving no news, that should be
sufficient to give us time to arrange some other plan. It will mean
delaying the vessel at Southampton, however, and--good gracious
me!--what a pile of difficulties it will land us in! The Colonial
Secretary must be informed, and the matter must come before the Cabinet.
As you said just now, if by any chance it should leak out and the Press
get hold of it, there is no telling where it will end."
"You have communicated with Scotland Yard, of course?"
"I sent a messenger to them shortly after midnight, that is to say, as
soon as I had found out that Woller had left Windsor, and that he had
not been to his Club, or to his own house. Their best men are at work
upon it, but so far without any satisfactory result."
"And can his own servants throw any light upon the matter?"
"None whatever!" the Commander-in-Chief replied. "When he left for
Windsor he informed them he should be back early, in order to dress for
my dinner in the evening. They say he appeared to be in the best of
health and spirits, and seemed greatly pleased with the arrangements
made for his journey to-day. Lord Laverstock accompanied him from the
Castle, and was the last to speak to him at Windsor Station. From the
conversation I have had with him by telephone, I gathered that Woller
was looking forward to his dinner with us last night. The guard of the
train corroborates the fact that he travelled to Paddington. For the
reason that the Railway Authorities expected him by the next train,
there was no crowd upon the platform to witness his arrival. On
alighting he simply called a cab and drove away. After that he vanishes
completely."
"There is no way, I suppose, in which we can make further enquiries
concerning him?"
"There is nothing so far as I can see. We are doing all that is
possible, but our position in the meantime is a most anxious and
unpleasant one. Now I shall hasten along to see the Secretary of State
for War, and hear what he thinks of the situation. He will doubtless
consider it necessary to call an immediate meeting of the Council, when
the situation can be discussed in all its bearings."
"Let us hope that he may be heard of before very long," I replied.
So saying I left him and drove home again, feeling sadly upset by the
untoward turn events had taken. What could have become of poor Woller?
Had he been decoyed into some slum and murdered? A hundred fears for his
safety assailed me, each one equally probable and equally cruel.
When I reached my house I found that the letters had arrived, and were
spread out upon my study table. Still thinking of Woller, I opened the
envelopes and scanned their contents. One was larger than the others,
and on opening it I found that it contained a card, upon which the
following words were printed:--
"The Countess de Venetza at Home on Wednesday, November the 21st,
from nine until eleven o'clock."
In the bottom left-hand corner was the address, "Wiltshire House."
As I stood with the card in my hand, the memory of my first meeting with
the Countess came back to me. So rapidly had events moved of late, that
it seemed as if a year had elapsed since I had last seen her. I recalled
the impression her dark haunting eyes had made upon me, and,
discourteous though it may be to say so, I must confess that a shudder
passed over me at the recollection. I placed the card upon my
mantel-piece, and, for the time being, thought no more about it. There
were other and more weighty matters than an invitation from a pretty
woman to be considered that day.
Every one who has followed the progress of the war--and there are few
who have not--will recall the wave of consternation and dismay that
swept over England when the news became known that Sir William Woller,
the newly-appointed Commander-in-Chief for South Africa, had
disappeared, and could not be found. A thousand rumours, all of them
equally sensational, and all equally wide of the mark, flew about the
country; but despite the efforts of the police, the jibes of the Press,
the scarcely veiled sneers of Little Englanders and the openly-expressed
contempt of our Continental neighbours, not a trace of the missing man
could be discovered. A meeting of the Cabinet was immediately summoned,
with the result that General Grey-Mortimer, a gallant gentleman and an
experienced soldier, was at once despatched to the front, in temporary
command. In the meantime, the wildest excitement prevailed in England.
Transports were leaving the various ports every day, the Reservists were
called up, the Militia and Volunteers were being equipped and drilled,
if necessary, for active service. Plainly the heart of the country was
stirred to the very centre of its being.
Such was the Public Temper at the time that few entertainments were
given by Society. Such as there were, and to which I was invited, I, for
the most part, declined. An exception was made, however, where the
Countess de Venetza was concerned. The temptation to see her play the
part of a hostess was more than I could resist, and for this reason, ten
o'clock on the night set forth upon her card found me mounting the
magnificent staircase of Wiltshire House. From the number of arrivals
and the crowding of the stairs, it was plain, despite the excitement of
that period, that her "At Home" was likely to be a crowded one. Her
beauty, her wealth, the fact that she was for the time being the
possessor of Wiltshire House, her famous team of black Orloffs, behind
which she drove in the Park, had combined to make her one of the year's
sensations. The grandeur of her entertainments had quickly become
proverbial, and in consequence, to admit that one had not the _entree_
to Wiltshire House, was to argue oneself unknown. Ascending the
staircase by my side, cool, calm and collected, as if the enormous
weight of responsibility he was then carrying were of no account, was no
less a person than the Colonial Secretary. When the history of the
century, and of this war in particular, shall come to be written, the
character of the Honourable Benjamin Castellan will shine prominently
out. The possessor of a serene imperturbability that nothing could
disturb, a keen observer, a born leader of men, and boasting that most
necessary of all qualifications, a firm belief in himself, a better man
for the arduous post he occupied could not have been discovered.
"I was not aware that you knew the Countess," I said, as we climbed the
stairs together.
"Nor did I that until a few days ago," he answered. "May I ask where you
made her acquaintance?"
"In Paris," I replied. "We stayed at the same hotel. She and her father
had just returned from a yachting trip in the Mediterranean with the
Duke of Rotherhithe."
[Illustration: WE WERE RECEIVED BY THE COUNTESS.
_To face page 89._]
Now, I am sorry to have to confess it, but that little speech of mine
was destined to work an incalculable amount of harm. Castellan has
confessed to me since that he was at first inclined to be somewhat
distrustful of the Countess. When I informed him, however, that our
hostess had been the guest of such a well-known personage as the Duke of
Rotherhithe she figured in his eyes in a different light, with what
result you shall presently hear.
On the broad landing at the head of the staircase we were received by
the Countess. A more beautiful figure than she presented at that moment
it would have been difficult to find. Perfectly dressed, carrying
herself with a graceful assurance as to the manner born, she made an
ideal hostess. If further evidence of her wealth were wanting, it might
have been found in the magnificent diamond tiara she wore upon her head,
in the broad collet of the same precious stones about her neck, and in
the beautiful bracelets that encircled her wrists. Only once before
could I recall such a display, and then the wearer was an Emperor's
escort. As you may remember, when I first saw her in Paris, it had
struck me that her attire was just one little point behind the
"prevailing mode." Now, however, it was as near perfection as it was
possible for human hands to make it. She greeted Castellan first.
"It is indeed kind of you, Mr Castellan, to come to me when every moment
of your time is of such value," she said, as she shook hands with him.
"I follow your doings with the greatest eagerness, and marvel that you
should have the strength to accomplish so much."
"Have you ever discovered that stress of work promotes growth of power,"
said the Colonial Secretary. Then, with one of his inscrutable smiles,
he added: "Pardon me, Countess, I had forgotten for the moment that your
power does not depend upon your work!"
"Ah! I fear you intend a compliment," returned the lady with a smile.
"Must it remain for a foreigner to remind you of your own Milton?
'What is strength without a double share
Of wisdom? vast, unwieldly, burdensome,
Proudly secure, yet liable to fall
By weakest subtilities; not made to rule,
But to subserve where wisdom bears command.'"
It was not difficult to see that the aptness of the quotation
astonished the Colonial Secretary. The purity of the Countess's English
was also a surprise to me; but for certain unmistakable indications it
would not have been thought that she was a foreigner. When Castellan had
passed on his way, she turned to me with a little gesture, as if she
were pleased to welcome an old friend.
"Ah! Sir George," she said, "I am so pleased to see you. But I think I
should give you a scolding for not having been before."
I hastened to excuse myself on the plea of over-work, and, having
obtained forgiveness and promised to amend my conduct in the future, I
passed on to shake hands with her father. When I had been again thanked
for my kindness in the matter of the French train, I followed the
Colonial Secretary into the ball-room. I had not been there many minutes
before I was greeted by a voice, which I instantly recognised, saying:
"How do you do, Sir George," and turning, I found myself face to face
with the handsome young Count Reiffenburg, Madame's cousin.
"And how do you like London?" I enquired, after the usual polite
salutations had passed between us. "I think I understood you to say, on
the occasion of our crossing from Paris, that this was your first
visit?"
"I like it very much," he replied, "but, to be candid, not so much as
Paris. I trust that is not a rude thing to say in London?"
"Every one is entitled to express his own opinion," I answered, somewhat
coldly, for I had taken an instinctive dislike to this young fellow.
"You must remember that you are seeing England at her worst just now.
The times are too anxious for us to be very gay."
"You refer to the war, I suppose?" he answered. Then he added with what
I could not help thinking was intended for a sneer: "The war is the
sensation of the moment."
"It naturally would be," I replied. "Though proverbially phlegmatic, we
still have sufficient feeling left to be patriotic; but perhaps your
sympathies are with the other side?"
"One can scarcely help feeling some sympathy----"
"My dear Conrad," said the Countess, who had come upon us unperceived,
"I really cannot let you talk politics in my ball-room. Go away and find
your partner at once. Prove to her that you have learned to valse in
Vienna."
She tapped him playfully on the arm with her fan, but for my own part I
could not help thinking that her words were not meant to be taken as
lightly as she had spoken them. At any rate, the young man muttered
something under his breath and left us.
"Conrad is a foolish but a warm-hearted boy," said the Countess, looking
after him. "Because Messieurs les Boers don't wear uniforms, and are not
nice to look at, he calls them patriots fighting for their country, and
honours them as such."
"I fear there are many like him," I replied. "I trust, however,
Countess, that we have the good fortune to possess your sympathy?"
"Could any one help sympathising with the handsome British officers?"
she answered. "I have no doubt----"
At that moment a sudden buzz of excitement ran through the room, and she
stopped without completing her sentence. It began near the door, and
quickly spread from group to group. Whatever the news was, it caused a
look of consternation to appear on every face.
"What can be the matter?" asked the Countess. "I wonder what they are
all talking about?"
As she finished speaking the Colonial Secretary came up to us.
"I hope that you are not the bearer of evil tidings," said my companion
to him. At the same moment I noticed that her face was very white, and
that there was a frightened look in her eyes.
"We have just received terrible intelligence," he replied. "The steamer,
_Sultan of Sedang_, with Sir Grey-Mortimer, his staff, and the first
Midlandshire Regiment on board, has been blown up at Madeira, and only
three men saved."
The shock was so terrible, that for a moment I stood as if tongue-tied.
"And Grey-Mortimer?" I asked, when I could speak.
"Killed," was the reply.
"Good Heavens! how terrible!" I said. "Are you quite sure it is true?
How did you hear the news?"
"A message has just reached me from the Office," he replied. "There can
be no doubt about it!"
"Woller first, now Grey-Mortimer," I said to myself. "What can it mean?
I shall go to the Admiralty and obtain full particulars."
"I will accompany you," said the Colonial Secretary. "Good-night,
Countess, and many thanks for your hospitality. I am sorry indeed that
this news should have reached us at such a time."
"And I too," she answered. Then, turning to me, she continued: "I hope
you will come and see me again, Sir George?"
As she said it, she looked into my face with a glance that would have
set many hearts, less susceptible than mine, beating with unusual
vigour. The memory of that look accompanied me down the stairs and
remained with me for some time after I was seated in the Colonial
Secretary's brougham. Then we set off to the Admiralty to learn the
details of the disaster. Alas! as Castellan had said, it proved only too
true. The steamship _Sultan of Sedang_ had reached Madeira safely, and
had anchored in the Bay. Nothing of a suspicious nature occurred, nor
was any boat seen near the ship after dark. Suddenly a terrific
explosion was heard, and the great vessel was blown to pieces, the only
men who escaped with their lives being a stoker, a sergeant in the
Midlandshire regiment, and an officer's servant. At the time of
telegraphing, boats were out searching the Bay, while the most careful
investigation as to the cause of the disaster was proceeding on shore.
The Colonial Secretary and I left the Admiralty when we had heard all
there was to be told, and proceeded into the street once more. The
coachman had been ordered not to wait, as we had decided to walk on
home.
Late as the hour was the alarming intelligence had spread like wildfire
through London, and already a considerable crowd had collected in
Whitehall. Fortunately, Castellan and I were able to slip out
unrecognised, and then we set off in the direction of Trafalgar Square.
The Colonial Secretary's residence, as all the world is aware, is in
Carlton House Terrace. At the corner of the small thoroughfare that
winds its way from Cockspur Street into Carlton House Terrace, we
stopped, and stood for some moments conversing there together. Then we
wished each other good-night, Castellan going down the narrow street of
which I have spoken, while I proceeded along Pall Mall and Piccadilly in
the direction of my own abode. My thoughts were the reverse of pleasant
as I strode along. A Cabinet Council had been summoned for the following
morning, and, with this sad intelligence to be brought before it, there
could be no doubt that it was likely to be a gloomy one.
Next morning I rose early. I had a large amount of work to get through
before the meeting, which was to take place at eleven o'clock. At a
quarter to that hour I drove down to Whitehall, and made my way to the
Foreign Office.
"This is terrible news indeed, Manderville," said the Prime Minister, as
we shook hands. "Poor Grey-Mortimer and all those gallant men! I
scarcely like to think of the effect it will produce upon the country.
First, that succession of disastrous defeats, then Woller's
extraordinary disappearance, and now this new catastrophe. However, as
we shall have to discuss that directly, I will say no more at present.
Are we all here?"
There was only one person who had not arrived, the Colonial Secretary.
"It's not like Castellan to be unpunctual," said the Prime Minister.
"Doubtless, however, it won't be long before he puts in an appearance."
When ten minutes had elapsed and still he did not come, a messenger was
despatched to the Colonial Office in search of him. It was not long
before he returned with the information that Castellan had not yet
arrived at his office. Close upon the heels of this message came another
from Mrs Castellan anxiously inquiring for her husband, who, it
appeared, had not come home on the previous night, nor had any
communication been received from him. As I heard this a great fear took
possession of me. I had said good-night to him in Cockspur Street, only
a few paces from his own front door, and had seen him walk in that
direction. How was it, then, that he had not reached it? Was he the
victim of a plot? Had he disappeared like Woller, never to be heard of
again?