Arm in arm, Prince Terniloff and his host climbed the snow-covered
slope at the back of a long fir plantation, towards the little beflagged
sticks which indicated their stand. There was not a human being in
sight, for the rest of the guns had chosen a steeper but somewhat less
circuitous route.
“Von Ragastein,” the Ambassador said, “I am going to give myself the
luxury of calling you by your name. You know my one weakness, a weakness
which in my younger days very nearly drove me out of diplomacy. I detest
espionage in every shape and form even where it is necessary. So far as
you are concerned, my young friend,” he went on, “I think your position
ridiculous. I have sent a private despatch to Potsdam, in which I have
expressed that opinion.”
“So far,” Dominey remarked, “I have not been overworked.”
“My dear young friend,” the Prince continued, “you have not been
overworked because there has been no legitimate work for you to do.
There will be none. There could be no possible advantage accruing
from your labours here to compensate for the very bad effect which
the discovery of your true name and position would have in the English
Cabinet.”
“I must ask you to remember,” Dominey begged, “that I am here as a blind
servant of the Fatherland. I simply obey orders.”
“I will grant that freely,” the Prince consented. “But to continue. I
am now at the end of my first year in this country. I feel able to
congratulate myself upon a certain measure of success. From that part
of the Cabinet with whom I have had to do, I have received nothing but
encouragement in my efforts to promote a better understanding between
our two countries.”
“The sky certainly seems clear enough just now,” agreed Dominey.
“I have convinced myself,” the Prince said emphatically, “that there is
a genuine and solid desire for peace with Germany existing in Downing
Street. In every argument I have had, in every concession I have
asked for, I have been met with a sincere desire to foster the growing
friendship between our countries. I am proud of my work here, Von
Ragastein. I believe that I have brought Germany and England nearer
together than they have been since the days of the Boer War.”
“You are sure, sir,” Dominey asked, “that you are not confusing personal
popularity with national sentiment?”
“I am sure of it,” the Ambassador answered gravely. “Such popularity
as I may have achieved here has been due to an appreciation of the
more healthy state of world politics now existing. It has been my great
pleasure to trace the result of my work in a manuscript of memoirs,
which some day, when peace is firmly established between our two
countries, I shall cause to be published. I have put on record there
evidences of the really genuine sentiment in favour of peace which I
have found amongst the present Cabinet.”
“I should esteem it an immense privilege,” Dominey said, “to be given a
private reading of these memoirs.”
“That may be arranged,” was the suave reply. “In the meantime, Von
Ragastein, I want you to reconsider your position here.”
“My position is not voluntary,” Dominey repeated. “I am acting under
orders.”
“Precisely,” the other acquiesced, “but matters have changed very
much during the last six months. Even at the risk of offending France,
England is showing wonderful pliability with regard to our claims in
Morocco. Every prospect of disagreement between our two countries upon
any vital matter has now disappeared.”
“Unless,” Dominey said thoughtfully, “the desire for war should come,
not from Downing Street but from Potsdam.”
“We serve an honourable master,” Terniloff declared sternly, “and he has
shown me his mind. His will is for peace, and for the great triumphs
to which our country is already entitled by reason of her supremacy in
industry, in commerce, in character and in genius. These are the weapons
which will make Germany the greatest Power in the world. No empire has
ever hewn its way to permanent glory by the sword alone. We have reached
our stations, I see. Come to me after this drive is finished, my host.
All that I have said so far has been by way of prelude.”
The weather had turned drier, the snow was crisp, and a little party of
women from the Hall reached the guns before the beaters were through the
wood. Caroline and Stephanie both took their places by Dominey's side.
The former, however, after a few minutes passed on to Terniloff's stand.
Stephanie and Dominey were alone for the first time since their stormy
interview in the library.
“Has Maurice been talking to you?” she asked a little abruptly.
“His Excellency and I are, to tell you the truth,” Dominey confessed,
“in the midst of a most interesting conversation.”
“Has he spoken to you about me?”
“Your name has not yet been mentioned.”
She made a little grimace. In her wonderful furs and Russian turban hat
she made a rather striking picture against the background of snow.
“An interesting conversation in which my name has not been mentioned!”
she repeated satirically.
“I think you were coming into it before very long,” Dominey assured her.
“His Excellency warned me that all he had said so far was merely the
prelude to a matter of larger importance.”
Stephanie smiled.
“Dear Maurice is so diplomatic,” she murmured. “I am perfectly certain
he is going to begin by remonstrating you for your shocking treatment of
me.”
Their conversation was interrupted for a few minutes by the sport.
Dominey called the faithful Middleton to his side for a further supply
of cartridges. Stephanie bided her time, which came when the beaters at
last emerged from the wood.
“Shocking,” Stephanie repeated reverting to their conversation, “is the
mildest word in my vocabulary which I can apply to your treatment of me.
Honestly, Leopold, I feel bruised all over inside. My pride is humbled.”
“It is because you look at the matter only from a feminine point of
view,” Dominey persisted.
“And you,” she answered in a low tone, “once the fondest and the most
passionate of lovers, only from a political one. You think a great deal
of your country, Leopold. Have I no claims upon you?”
“Upon Everard Dominey, none,” he insisted. “When the time comes, and
Leopold Von Ragastein can claim all that is his right, believe me, you
will have no cause to complain of coldness or dilatoriness. He will have
only one thought, only one hope--to end the torture of these years of
separation as speedily as may be.”
The strained look passed from her face. Her tone became more natural.
“But, dear,” she pleaded, “there is no need to wait. Your Sovereign
gives you permission. Your political chief will more than endorse it.”
“I am on the spot,” Dominey replied, “and believe me I know what is
safest and best. I cannot live as two men and keep my face steadfast to
the world. The Prince, however, has not spoken to me yet. I will hear
what he has to say.”
Stephanie turned a little haughtily away.
“You are putting me in the position of a supplicant!” she exclaimed.
“To-night we must have an understanding.”
The little party moved on all together to another cover. Rosamund had
joined them and hung on to Dominey's arm with delight. The brisk walk
across the park had brought colour to her cheeks. She walked with all
the free and vigorous grace of a healthy woman. Dominey found himself
watching her, as she deserted him a little later on to stand by
Terniloff's side, with a little thrill of tangled emotions. He felt a
touch on his arm. Stephanie, who was passing with another of the guns,
paused to whisper in his ear:
“There might be a greater danger--one that has evaded even your cautious
mind--in overplaying your part!”
Dominey was taken possession of by Caroline on their walk to the next
stand. She planted herself on a shooting stick by his side and commenced
to take him roundly to task.
“My dear Everard,” she said, “you are one of the most wonderful examples
of the reformed rake I ever met! You have even acquired respectability.
For heaven's sake, don't disappoint us all!”
“I seem to be rather good at that,” Dominey observed a little drearily.
“Well, you are the master of your own actions, are you not?” she asked.
“What I want to say in plain words is, don't go and make a fool of
yourself with Stephanie.”
“I have not the least intention of doing anything of the sort.”
“Well, she has! Mark my words, Everard, I know that woman. She is clever
and brilliant and anything else you like, but for some reason or other
she has set her mind upon you. She looks at dear little Rosamund as
though she hadn't a right to exist. Don't look so sorry for yourself.
You must have encouraged her.”
Dominey was silent. Fortunately, the exigencies of the next few minutes
demanded it. His cousin waited patiently until there came a pause in the
shooting.
“Now let me hear what you have to say for yourself, sir? So far as I can
see, you've been quite sweet to your wife, and she adores you. If you
want to have an affair with the Princess, don't begin it here. You'll
have your wife ill again if you make her jealous.”
“My dear Caroline, there will be no affair between Stephanie and me. Of
that you may rest assured.”
“You mean to say that this is altogether on her side, then?” Caroline
persisted.
“You exaggerate her demeanour,” he replied, “but even if what you
suggest were true--”
“Oh, I don't want a lot of protestations!” she interrupted. “I am not
saying that you encourage her much, because I don't believe you do. All
I want to point out is that, having really brought your wife back almost
to health, you must be extraordinarily and wonderfully careful. If you
want to talk nonsense with Stephanie, do it in Belgrave Square.”
Dominey was watching the gyrations of a falling pheasant. His left hand
was stretched out towards the cartridge bag which Caroline was holding.
He clasped her fingers for a moment before he helped himself.
“You are rather a dear,” he said. “I would not do anything to hurt
Rosamund for the world.”
“If you can't get rid of your old tricks altogether and must flirt,” she
remarked, “well, I'm always somewhere about. Rosamund wouldn't mind me,
because there are a few grey hairs in my sandy ones.--And here comes
your man across the park--looks as though he had a message for you. So
long as nothing has happened to your cook, I feel that I could face ill
tidings with composure.”
Dominey found himself watching with fixed eyes the approach of his
rather sad-faced manservant through the snow. Parkins was not dressed
for such an enterprise, nor did he seem in any way to relish it. His was
the stern march of duty, and, curiously enough, Dominey felt from the
moment he caught sight of him that he was in some respects a messenger
of Fate. Yet the message which he delivered, when at last he reached his
master's side, was in no way alarming.
“A person of the name of Miller has arrived here, sir,” he announced,
“from Norwich. He is, I understand, a foreigner of some sort, who
has recently landed in this country. I found it a little difficult to
understand him, but her Highness's maid conversed with him in German,
and I understand that he either is or brings you a message from a
certain Doctor Schmidt, with whom you were acquainted in Africa.”
The warning whistle blew at that moment, and Dominey swung round and
stood at attention. His behaviour was perfectly normal. He let a hen
pheasant pass over his head, and brought down a cock from very nearly
the limit distance. He reloaded before he turned to Parkins.
“Is this person in a hurry?” he said.
“By no means, sir,” the man replied. “I told him that you would not be
back until three or four o'clock, and he is quite content to wait.”
Dominey nodded.
“Look after him yourself then, Parkins,” he directed. “We shall not be
shooting late to-day. Very likely I will send Mr. Seaman back to talk to
him.”
The man raised his hat respectfully and turned back towards the house.
Caroline was watching her companion curiously.
“Do you find many of your acquaintances in Africa look you up, Everard?”
she asked.
“Except for Seaman,” Dominey replied, looking through the barrels of his
gun, “who really does not count because we crossed together, this is my
first visitor from the land of fortune. I expect there will be plenty of
them by and by, though. Colonials have a wonderful habit of sticking to
one another.”