The next morning saw the breaking-up of Dominey's carefully arranged
shooting party. The Prince took his host's arm and led him to one side
for a few moments, as the cars were being loaded up. His first few words
were of formal thanks. He spoke then more intimately.
“Von Ragastein,” he said, “I desire to refer back for a moment to our
conversation the other day.”
Dominey shook his head and glanced behind.
“I know only one name here, Prince.”
“Dominey, then. I will confess that you play and carry the part through
perfectly. I have known English gentlemen all my life, and you have
the trick of the thing. But listen. I have already told you of my
disapproval of this scheme in which you are the central figure.”
“It is understood,” Dominey assented.
“That,” the Prince continued, “is a personal matter. What I am now going
to say to you is official. I had despatches from Berlin last night. They
concern you.”
Dominey seemed to stiffen a little.
“Well?”
“I am given to understand,” the Ambassador continued, “that you
practically exist only in the event of that catastrophe which I, for
one, cannot foresee. I am assured that if your exposé should take place
at any time, your personation will be regarded as a private enterprise,
and there is nothing whatever to connect you with any political work.”
“Up to the present that is absolutely so,” Dominey agreed.
“I am further advised to look upon you as my unnamed and unsuspected
successor here, in the event of war. For that reason I am begged to
inaugurate terms of intimacy with you, to treat you with the utmost
confidence, and, if the black end should come, to leave in your hands
all such unfulfilled work as can be continued in secrecy and silence. I
perhaps express myself in a somewhat confused manner.”
“I understand perfectly,” Dominey replied. “The authorities have changed
their first idea as to my presence here. They want to keep every shadow
of suspicion away from me, so that in the event of war I shall have
an absolutely unique position, an unsuspected yet fervently patriotic
German, living hand in glove with the upper classes of English Society.
One can well imagine that there would be work for me.”
“Our understanding is mutual,” Terniloff declared. “What I have to say
to you, therefore, is that I hope you will soon follow us to London
and give me the opportunity of offering you the constant hospitality of
Carlton House Gardens.”
“You are very kind, Prince,” Dominey said. “My instructions are, as soon
as I have consolidated my position here--an event which I fancy I may
consider attained--to establish myself in London and to await orders. I
trust that amongst other things you will then permit me to examine the
memoirs you spoke of the other day.”
“Naturally, and with the utmost pleasure,” the Ambassador assented.
“They are a faithful record of my interviews and negotiations with
certain Ministers here, and they reflect a desire and intention for
peace which will, I think, amaze you. I venture now upon a somewhat
delicate question,” he continued, changing the subject of their
conversation abruptly, as they turned back along the terrace. “Lady
Dominey will accompany you?”
“Of that I am not sure,” Dominey replied thoughtfully. “I have noticed,
Prince, if I may be allowed to say so, your chivalrous regard for that
lady. You will permit me to assure you that in the peculiar position in
which I am placed I shall never forget that she is the wife of Everard
Dominey.”
Terniloff shook hands heartily.
“I wanted to hear that from you,” he admitted. “You I felt instinctively
were different, but there are many men of our race who are willing
enough to sacrifice a woman without the slightest scruple, either for
their passions or their policy. I find Lady Dominey charming.”
“She will never lack a protector in me,” Dominey declared.
There were more farewells and, soon after, the little procession of cars
drove off. Rosamund herself was on the terrace, bidding all her guests
farewell. She clung to Dominey's arm when at last they turned back into
the empty hall.
“What dear people they were, Everard!” she exclaimed. “I only wish that
I had seen more of them. The Duchess was perfectly charming to me, and I
never knew any one with such delightful manners as Prince Terniloff. Are
you going to miss them very much, dear?”
“Not a bit,” he answered. “I think I shall take a gun now and stroll
down the meadows and across the rough ground. Will you come with me, or
will you put on one of your pretty gowns and entertain me downstairs at
luncheon? It is a very long time since we had a meal alone together.”
She shook her head a little sadly.
“We never have had,” she answered. “You know that, Everard, and alas! I
know it. But we are going on pretending, aren't we?”
He raised her fingers to his lips and kissed them.
“You shall pretend all that you like, dear Rosamund,” he promised, “and
I will be the shadow of your desires. No! No tears!” he added quickly,
as she turned away. “Remember there is nothing but happiness for you
now. Whoever I am or am not, that is my one aim in life.”
She clutched at his hand passionately, and suddenly, as though finding
it insufficient, twined her arms around his neck and kissed him.
“Let me come with you,” she begged. “I can't bear to let you go. I'll be
very quiet. Will you wait ten minutes for me?”
“Of course,” he answered.
He strolled down towards the gun room, stood by the fire for a moment,
and then wandered out into the courtyard, where Middleton and a couple
of beaters were waiting for him with the dogs. He had scarcely taken
a step towards them, however, when he stopped short. To his amazement
Seaman was there, standing a little on one side, with his eyes fixed
upon the windows of the servants' quarters.
“Hullo, my friend!” he exclaimed. “Why, I thought you went by the early
train from Thursford Station?”
“Missed it by two minutes,” Seaman replied with a glance towards the
beaters. “I knew all the cars were full for the eleven o'clock, so I
thought I'd wait till the afternoon.”
“And where have you been to for the last few hours, then?”
Seaman had reached his side now and was out of earshot of the others.
“Trying to solve the mystery of Johann Wolff's sudden departure last
night. Come and walk down the avenue with me a short way.”
“A very short distance, then. I am expecting Lady Dominey.”
They passed through the thin iron gates and paced along one of the back
entrances to the Hall.
“Do not think me indiscreet,” Seaman began. “I returned without the
knowledge of any one, and I kept out of the way until they had all gone.
It is what I told you before. Things which I do not understand
depress me, and behold! I have found proof this morning of a further
significance in Wolff's sudden departure.”
“Proceed,” Dominey begged.
“I learned this morning, entirely by accident, that Mr. Pelham's servant
was either mistaken or willfully deceived me. Wolff did not accompany
your butler to the station.”
“And how did you find that out?” Dominey demanded.
“It is immaterial! What is material is that there is a sort of
conspiracy amongst the servants here to conceal the manner of his
leaving. Do not interrupt me, I beg! Early this morning there was a
fresh fall of snow which has now disappeared. Outside the window of the
room which I found locked were the marks of footsteps and the tracks of
a small car.”
“And what do you gather from all this?” Dominey asked.
“I gather that Wolff must have had friends in the neighbourhood,” Seaman
replied, “or else--”
“Well?”
“My last supposition sounds absurd,” Seaman confessed, “but the whole
matter is so incomprehensible that I was going to say--or else he was
forcibly removed.”
Dominey laughed softly.
“Wolff would scarcely have been an easy man to abduct, would he,” he
remarked, “even if we could hit upon any plausible reason for such a
thing! As a matter of fact, Seaman,” he concluded, turning on his heel
a little abruptly as he saw Rosamund standing in the avenue, “I cannot
bring myself to treat this Johann Wolff business seriously. Granted that
the man was a spy, well, let him get on with it. We are doing our job
here in the most perfect and praiseworthy fashion. We neither of us have
the ghost of a secret to hide from his employers.”
“In a sense that is true,” Seaman admitted.
“Well, then, cheer up,” Dominey enjoined. “Take a little walk with us,
and we will see whether Parkins cannot find us a bottle of that old
Burgundy for lunch. How does that sound?”
“If you will excuse me from taking the walk,” Seaman begged, “I would
like to remain here until your return.”
“You are more likely to do harm,” Dominey reminded him, “and set
the servants talking, if you show too much interest in this man's
disappearance.”
“I shall be careful,” Seaman promised, “but there are certain things
which I cannot help. I work always from instinct, and my instinct is
never wrong. I will ask no more questions of your servants, but I know
that there is something mysterious about the sudden departure of Johann
Wolff.”
Dominey and Rosamund returned about one o'clock to find a note from
Seaman, which the former tore open as his companion stood warming her
feet in front of the fire. There were only a few lines:
“I am following an idea. It takes me to London. Let us meet there within
a few days.
“S.”
“Has he really gone?” Rosamund asked.
“Back to London.”
She laughed happily. “Then we shall lunch _à deux_ after all!
Delightful! I have my wish!”
There was a sudden glow in Dominey's face, a glow which was instantly
suppressed.
“Shall I ever have mine?” he asked, with a queer little break in his
voice.