Terniloff and Dominey, one morning about six months later, lounged
underneath a great elm tree at Ranelagh, having iced drinks after a
round of golf. Several millions of perspiring Englishmen were at the
same moment studying with dazed wonder the headlines in the midday
papers.
“I suppose,” the Ambassador remarked, as he leaned back in his chair
with an air of lazy content, “that I am being accused of fiddling while
Rome burns.”
“Every one has certainly not your confidence in the situation,” Dominey
rejoined calmly.
“There is no one else who knows quite so much,” Terniloff reminded him.
Dominey sipped his drink for a moment or two in silence.
“Have you the latest news of the Russian mobilisation?” he asked. “They
had some startling figures in the city this morning.”
The Prince waved his hand.
“My faith is not founded on these extraneous incidents,” he replied. “If
Russia mobilises, it is for defence. No nation in the world would
dream of attacking Germany, nor has Germany the slightest intention
of imperilling her coming supremacy amongst the nations by such crude
methods as military enterprise. Servia must be punished, naturally, but
to that, in principle, every nation in Europe is agreed. We shall not
permit Austria to overstep the mark.”
“You are at least consistent, Prince,” Dominey remarked.
Terniloff smiled.
“That is because I have been taken behind the scenes,” he said. “I have
been shown, as is the privilege of ambassadors, the mind of our rulers.
You, my friend,” he went on, “spent your youth amongst the military
faction. You think that you are the most important people in Germany.
Well, you are not. The Kaiser has willed it otherwise. By-the-by, I had
yesterday a most extraordinary cable from Stephanie.”
Dominey ceased swinging his putter carelessly over the head of a daisy
and turned his head to listen.
“Is she on the way home?”
“She is due in Southampton at any moment now. She wants to know where
she can see me immediately upon her arrival, as she has information of
the utmost importance to give me.”
“Did she ever tell you the reason for her journey to Africa?”
“She was most mysterious about it. If such an idea had had any logical
outcome, I should have surmised that she was going there to seek
information as to your past.”
“She gave Seaman the same idea,” Dominey observed. “I scarcely see what
she has to gain. In Africa, as a matter of fact,” he went on, “my life
would bear the strictest investigation.”
“The whole affair is singularly foolish,” the Prince declared, “Still,
I am not sure that you have been altogether wise. Even accepting your
position, I see no reason why you should not have obeyed the Kaiser's
behest. My experience of your Society here is that love affairs between
men and women moving in the same circles are not uncommon.”
“That,” Dominey urged, “is when they are all tarred with the same brush.
My behaviour towards Lady Dominey has been culpable enough as it is.
To have placed her in the position of a neglected wife would have been
indefensible. Further, it might have affected the position which it is
in the interests of my work that I should maintain here.”
“An old subject,” the Ambassador sighed, “best not rediscussed. Behold,
our womenkind!”
Rosamund and the Princess had issued from the house, and the two men
hastened to meet them. The latter looked charming, exquisitely gowned,
and stately in appearance. By her side Rosamund, dressed with the same
success but in younger fashion, seemed almost like a child. They
passed into the luncheon room, crowded with many little parties of
distinguished and interesting people, brilliant with the red livery of
the waiters, the profusion of flowers--all that nameless elegance which
had made the place society's most popular rendezvous. The women, as they
settled into their places, asked a question which was on the lips of a
great many English people of that day.
“Is there any news?”
Terniloff perhaps felt that he was the cynosure of many eager and
anxious eyes. He smiled light-heartedly as he answered:
“None. If there were, I am convinced that it would be good. I have been
allowed to play out my titanic struggle against Sir Everard without
interruption.”
“I suppose the next important question is to whether it is to be peace
or war is, how did you play?” the Princess asked.
“I surpassed myself,” her husband replied, “but of course no ordinary
human golfer is of any account against Dominey. He plays far too well
for any self-respecting Ger--”
The Ambassador broke off and paused while he helped himself to
mayonnaise.
“For any self-respecting German to play against,” he concluded.
Luncheon was a very pleasant meal, and a good many people noticed the
vivacity of the beautiful Lady Dominey whose picture was beginning
to appear in the illustrated papers. Afterwards they drank coffee and
sipped liqueurs under the great elm tree on the lawn, listening to the
music and congratulating themselves upon having made their escape
from London. In the ever-shifting panorama of gaily-dressed women and
flannel-clad men, the monotony of which was varied here and there by the
passing of a diplomatist or a Frenchman, scrupulously attired in morning
clothes, were many familiar faces. Caroline and a little group of
friends waved to them from the terrace. Eddy Pelham, in immaculate
white, and a long tennis coat with dark blue edgings, paused to speak to
them on his way to the courts.
“How is the motor business, Eddy?” Dominey asked, with a twinkle in his
eyes.
“So, so! I'm not quite so keen as I was. To tell you the truth,” the
young man confided, glancing around and lowering his voice so that no
one should share the momentous information, “I was lucky enough to pick
up a small share in Jere Moore's racing stable at Newmarket, the other
day. I fancy I know a little more about gee-gees than I do about the
inside of motors, what?”
“I should think very possibly that you are right,” Dominey assented, as
the young man passed on with a farewell salute.
Terniloff looked after him curiously.
“It is the type of young man, that,” he declared, “which we cannot
understand. What would happen to him, in the event of a war? In the
event of his being called upon, say, either to fight or do some work of
national importance for his country?”
“I expect he would do it,” Dominey replied. “He would do it pluckily,
whole-heartedly and badly. He is a type of the upper-class young
Englishman, over-sanguine and entirely undisciplined. They expect, and
their country expects for them that in the case of emergency pluck would
take the place of training.”
The Right Honourable Gerald Watson stood upon the steps talking to the
wife of the Italian Ambassador. She left him presently, and he came
strolling down the lawn with his hands behind his back and his eyes
seeming to see out past the golf links.
“There goes a man,” Terniloff murmured, “whom lately I have found
changed. When I first came here he met me quite openly. I believe, even
now, he is sincerely desirous of peace and amicable relations between
our two countries, and yet something has fallen between us. I cannot
tell what it is. I cannot tell even of what nature it is, but I have an
instinct for people's attitude towards me, and the English are the worst
race in the world at hiding their feelings. Has Mr. Watson, I wonder
come under the spell of your connection, the Duke of Worcester? He
seemed so friendly with both of us down in Norfolk.”
Their womenkind left them at that moment to talk to some acquaintances
seated a short distance way. Mr. Watson, passing within a few yards of
them, was brought to a standstill by Dominey's greeting. They talked for
a moment or two upon idle subjects.
“Your news, I trust, continues favourable?” the Ambassador remarked,
observing the etiquette which required him to be the first to leave the
realms of ordinary conversation.
“It is a little negative in quality,” the other answered, after a
moment's hesitation. “I am summoned to Downing Street again at six
o'clock.”
“I have already confided the result of my morning despatches to the
Prime Minister,” Terniloff observed.
“I went through them before I came down here,” was the somewhat doubtful
reply.
“You will have appreciated, I hope, their genuinely pacific tone?”
Terniloff asked anxiously.
His interlocutor bowed and then drew himself up. It was obvious that the
strain of the last few days was telling upon him. There were lines about
his mouth, and his eyes spoke of sleepless nights.
“Words are idle things to deal with at a time like this,” he said. “One
thing, however, I will venture to say to you, Prince, here and under
these circumstances. There will be no war unless it be the will of your
country.”
Terniloff was for a moment unusually pale. It was an episode of
unrecorded history. He rose to his feet and raised his hat.
“There will be no war,” he said solemnly.
The Cabinet Minister passed on with a lighter step. Dominey, more
clearly than ever before, understood the subtle policy which had chosen
for his great position a man as chivalrous and faithful and yet as
simple-minded as Terniloff. He looked after the retreating figure of the
Cabinet Minister with a slight smile at the corner of his lips.
“In a time like this,” he remarked significantly, “one begins
to understand why one of our great writers--was it Bernhardi, I
wonder?--has written that no island could ever breed a race of
diplomatists.”
“The seas which engirdle this island,” the Ambassador said thoughtfully,
“have brought the English great weal, as they may bring to her much woe.
The too-nimble brain of the diplomat has its parallel of insincerity in
the people whose interests he seems to guard. I believe in the honesty
of the English politicians, I have placed that belief on record in the
small volume of memoirs which I shall presently entrust to you. But
we talk too seriously for a summer afternoon. Let us illustrate to the
world our opinion of the political situation and play another nine holes
at golf.”
Dominey rose willingly to his feet, and the two men strolled away
towards the first tee.
“By the by,” Terniloff asked, “what of our cheerful little friend
Seaman? He ought to be busy just now.”
“Curiously enough, he is returning from Germany to-night,” Dominey
announced. “I expect him at Berkeley square. He is coming direct to me.”