CONCERNING A GREAT MAN'S VEXATION
When the carriage containing the Great Man rolled up to the door on the
south side of Downing Street the constable stationed there stiffened
himself preparatory to saluting. But his salute passed unnoticed. The
door swung open, but the commissionaire got not so much as a glance.
"There's trouble brewing in China," said the worthy hall porter to his
circle of cronies that same evening in the private bar of the "Lord
Palmerston," "you mark my words if there isn't."
"More likely to be with Germany. That's the right place to look for
trouble," asserted one of the listeners.
"Of course, you would know better than me," replied the worthy janitor.
"You read the papers every day, so you can't be wrong." There was
unutterable scorn in his tone as he referred to the press.
"And what's wrong with the papers?" enquired the interlocutor in an
aggrieved voice. "I suppose they know as much about things as you do,
any day."
The commissionaire pursed his lips, blew his nose, and finished his
beer before he found words to convey his answer.
"The newspapers! The newspapers are common liars!" he
answered, "and ought to be hanged as such.
No--don't you go for to speak up for 'em--George Jenkins--we know all
about the papers in our department."
Jenkins did not subside immediately.
"I presume Sir Gadsby takes you into 'is confidence--not to say asks
your advice occasional?" he asked sarcastically.
"He might do worse than ask the advice of a man who's fought in h'all
four quarters of the globe and 'as the right to wear six medals and
twelve bars," interrupted another listener propitiatingly.
"So he might," replied the commissionaire smiling genially, "but that's
neither here nor there. If you want to know why I say it's China, I
don't mind telling you." He glanced round to see that no outsiders were
within earshot and dropped his voice into a confidential whisper.
"Four secretaries have I known since I went to our place, and I studies
'em until I comes to read 'em like books, and Sir Gadsby Dimbleby is
one of the easiest volumes I've ever had to study. I know 'is German
face an' 'is Russian face as well as I know my own. This morning when
he come in I could read China in 'is heye as plain as if it were in the
biggest print. You mark my words there's trouble brewin' in China."
The oracle had spoken, and as is often the case with oracles which have
not been primed with facts, the utterance was as wide of the mark as it
could well be.
Sir Gadsby Dimbleby's brain had not been occupied in the least
degree with Chinese affairs as he passed the portals of the Foreign
Office. He was troubling about something which had happened much
nearer home, a subject which had been pigeonholed in one of the
compartments of his brain until the crisis in the relations
with Germany caused by the premature disclosure of the unfortunate
incident in the South Seas should have passed. That storm had been
safely weathered, and H. M. Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs
bethought himself of the promise he had made to himself to discover
how the information had leaked out. To him it seemed uncommonly like
treachery on the part of someone, and being by birth, education, and
natural instinct a thorough English gentleman, the idea even of having
to suspect anyone in the great department of which he was the head of
treachery was odious to him. So the Great Man passed, heedless of the
salutes of officials, to the uttermost sanctum where the Permanent
Secretary sat with his fingers on the strings which directed British
policy all over the world, peacefully enjoying a matutinal cigar while
glancing over the précis of a verbose despatch, prepared by his own
secretary, from the Governor of a wind-swept rock in the South Atlantic
concerning the deadly damage likely to be done to British interests by
ceasing to imprison a garrison in such an out-of-the-way spot.
The Permanent Secretary looked up as the Great Man entered and
wondered. He was at a loss to understand the reason for the knitted
brow. The political horizon was clear and nothing could happen without
his knowledge. He guessed that the reason was domestic. He knew that
Lady Gadsby had a will of her own, and that even Great Men are human
enough to be annoyed by feminine displeasure.
But Sir Gadsby soon undeceived him. He fidgetted about
uncomfortably for a minute or two, irritably asking
questions about minor matters which had recently
engaged his attention before he plunged into the subject which filled
his thoughts.
"Look here, Markham," he said, "that German business in the South
Pacific is still worrying me."
The Permanent Secretary looked at him in surprise. "There's no need to
worry, Dimbleby," he answered, "that storm's blown over all right."
"That's not the point," snapped Sir Gadsby. "What I want to know is how
that information leaked out in the newspapers. Have you any suspicions?"
The Great Man frowned at the Permanent Secretary, and the Permanent
Secretary frowned at the Great Man. The Permanent Secretary was silent
so long that the Great Man continued, "I hate to think that any of our
people can have been so lost to all sense of decency and honour, yet
what on earth can I think? You have told me yourself that our despatch
must have been tapped somehow."
"I have puzzled over the matter as much as yourself," said the
Permanent Secretary slowly, "and am as much at a loss as yourself to
account for the information leaking out. It seems to me that there are
only two persons whom it is possible to suspect."
"And those?" queried the Great Man eagerly.
"Are our own two selves," was the answer.
Despite his irritation the Great Man laughed at the whimsicality of the
idea, but he became grave again rapidly.
"If that's the case, we must bring a different order of
intelligence to bear upon the problem. What do you say to
asking the assistance of Scotland Yard, Markham?
"I've not much belief in Scotland Yard," replied the Permanent
Secretary, "but still there can be no harm in our giving them the
opportunity of investigating the affair. They may discover a clue which
will assist us in coming to some conclusion."
"Then send over a messenger at once, Markham," said the Great Man
energetically. "I shall never feel safe if the contents of despatches
are to leak out in this manner. Ask the Commissioner to send over his
most intelligent officer--no, ask them to send Kenly. I know he's
got common sense--to make a delicate investigation. We will see him
together." Then he stalked off to his own room and worked off his
irritation in preparing sarcastic answers to inconvenient questions
in Parliament, of which notice had been given him by members of the
Opposition Party. Consequently he had recovered his accustomed urbanity
when the Permanent Secretary, accompanied by Detective Inspector Kenly,
was ushered into his presence. He greeted the newcomer heartily.
"Glad the Commissioner could spare you, Kenly. There's nothing like
having a man to undertake confidential work whom one knows from
experience one can trust. I suppose Sir Everard Markham has told you
what we want you to do?"
The Permanent Secretary interrupted with a hasty negation.
"Oh, well, the matter will not take long to explain," continued the
Great Man. "Correct me if I am wrong, Markham."
The Permanent Secretary nodded and handed a cigar case to the chief.
"Not before lunch," said the Great Man. He turned to the
detective. "On the face of it the matter should prove a simple one,
Kenly, but just at present it is beyond our combined intelligence to
fathom it. Late on the fifteenth--a Tuesday, wasn't it, Markham?--a
cypher cablegram containing important information came into this
office. The despatch was de-coded----"
"By myself," interrupted the Permanent Secretary.
"Placed in a despatch case which was sealed in the usual way and
forwarded by King's Messenger to me," continued Sir Gadsby. "I received
the case, broke the seals myself, and retained the despatch in my own
possession."
"Yes," said the detective, as the Great Man paused.
"The despatch related to the recent trouble in the South Pacific, the
German affair," remarked the Permanent Secretary, "and next morning
there was wild excitement on the Stock Exchange, and later in the day
the newspapers published full details of the trouble, much to our
embarrassment."
"H--m," said the detective, "I suppose you want me to find out who gave
the show away?"
"Your perspicacity is wonderful, Kenly," remarked the Great Man drily
and the Permanent Secretary smiled. "At present, Markham, I know,
suspects me of 'giving the show away,' as you put it, and if I didn't
know Markham I should be compelled to suspect him. We are really the
only two possible suspects."
"H--m," said the detective a second time before remarking
deprecatingly, "The despatch passed through the hands of a third
person. I think you mentioned a King's Messenger?"
"I sealed the despatches with my own hands," remarked the
Permanent Secretary. "And the seals were intact when I took the case
from Captain Marven's hands," added the Great Man.
The detective hazarded another suggestion.
"Is it quite impossible that the information might not have reached the
Stock Exchange and the newspapers from an external source?"
"So far as we can ascertain, quite impossible," replied the Permanent
Secretary. "We have ascertained that no cable was received in
London which could in any way have related to the affair before the
publication of the news."
"It seems to me," said the Great Man briskly, "that even if we cannot
get direct evidence as to the source through which the information
leaked out, we should at least be able to come to some sort of
conclusion if we knew the names of the parties who must have benefited
by the Stock Exchange operations."
"I see," said the detective. "Well, Sir Gadsby, I'll do my best to find
that out for you."
"I know you will, Kenly," said the Great Man. "But not a word to
anyone; and, while I think of it, I'll write a note to the Commissioner
and ask him to allow you to report directly to Markham here, and to
devote your whole time and attention to this business."
"Very good, Sir Gadsby," said the detective, and the interview ended.
When alone with the Permanent Secretary, Inspector Kenly asked every
question which occurred to his active brain, but he elucidated nothing
more than the very simple facts with which he had already been made
acquainted, and when he left the Foreign Office it was with no
very hopeful feeling of being able to lay his hand on the culprit.
It is true that there had occurred to him the glimmering of a
possibility as to who might have been responsible for the disclosure.
The despatches had been in the possession of a third party, in the
possession of Captain Marven, the King's Messenger, for seven or eight
hours; and Inspector Kenly had no particular reason for believing that
official locks and seals were more inviolable than any other locks and
seals if submitted to the gentle manipulation of an expert. But he had
met Captain Marven in the course of his official life, and what he had
seen of him led him to credit the reputation for perfect probity and
honour which the King's Messenger held in the eyes of the world.
"I should have liked an easier job," grumbled Inspector Kenly to
himself. "Another failure to find out anything coming on top of my
failure to get the slightest clue to the mystery of the Flurscheim
affair will make the Chief think that I am getting past my work.
However, it's no use worrying because I'm not possessed of the gift
of divination. What is, was to be," with which philosophic reflection
he stepped aboard a 'bus bound Citywards, and, while engaged there
in his investigations, the Great Man, having finished preparing his
list of answers for the day's sitting of Parliament, carried off
the Permanent Secretary to lunch with him. They enjoyed their meal
none the less because they had unloaded the cause of their vexation
upon the broad shoulders of Detective Inspector Kenly.