PRELIMINARY STEPS
Of all the parts I had ever thought to play, that of a Polish
Irreconcilable was about the last. But for the stake I had at issue--to
save Althea and win her--I would have turned Russian Nihilist had it
been necessary.
The risk I did not take seriously. So far as I had gone at present I
could put up a pretty good fight in my defence. If old Ziegler was
right, and the German Government were really contemplating some move
against England, my old journalistic work would serve as a cover for my
action. I could readily justify myself in running almost any risk to
unearth and disclose such a thing.
But it was a case where nothing short of success would serve. If the
Jew was wrong, I might easily find myself in an ugly fix. I must be
careful also not to be drawn in too far. My investment in seditious
intrigue must be strictly limited to this one affair.
A few days at most ought to see the issue; and then, I could leave
Berlin and, as I now began to hope, take Althea with me.
In regard to her, indeed, my morning's work had imposed an extremely
distasteful task upon me. Borsen had confirmed the statement von Felsen
had made to her as to her father's pardon in the event of the projected
marriage. And I must tell her so.
I had seen for myself on the previous day that even on his unsupported
statement she had been very close to giving her consent. Self-sacrifice
had become a sort of second nature with her, and she was ready to go to
almost any lengths to secure her father's safety and ensure Chalice's
future.
Keep the facts from her I could not; but there was something I could do
before I told her--tackle von Felsen himself and endeavour to force on
his marriage with Hagar Ziegler.
He went in deadly fear of Hagar's father; and I resolved to retract the
promise I had given von Felsen on the previous day to hold my tongue
about his intention to marry Althea. A word to Ziegler would set him to
work at once.
Von Felsen's action in inducing his father to attempt to intimidate me
was an ample justification for my taking back my promise; but I would
fight him fairly, and give him notice of what I meant to do.
When I reached home I found von Bernhoff closeted with my sister, and
they appeared to have had a pretty warm conversation.
"Here is Paul," cried Bessie, as I entered. "Tell him, Herr Bernhoff."
She was very excited, and not far removed from tears.
"What is it?" I asked turning to him.
"I have been asking your sister to do me the honour to betroth herself
to me," he replied, with rather a disconcerted air.
"She has no doubt given you your answer."
"You had better tell the rest, Herr Bernhoff," cried Bessie indignantly.
"I have merely been saying that if she would consent I should become to
that extent a member of your family, and so concerned to help you in
keeping secret any matters which you do not desire to have disclosed."
"Plainer, please," I said very curtly,
"There are certain things----"
"Mention them," I broke in.
"You have a guest here, Mr. Bastable," he said, lifting his hands and
smiling significantly.
"You have already given this--this gentleman an answer, Bessie?"
"Oh yes, and he said----"
"Never mind that for a moment. Just let me have a word or two with him
alone." She got up at once, and he rose at the same time as if to go.
"I do not wish to discuss it with you, Mr. Bastable," he said uneasily.
"But I mean to discuss it with you," I retorted; and I opened the door
for her and prevented his leaving. "Now we'll have it out together, von
Bernhoff."
He made no reply and stared at me sullenly.
"I've got the hang of the matter, I think. You have asked my sister to
be your wife; she has not consented; and in reply you have hinted that
you will tell certain suspicions you entertain if she does not retract
her refusal. Did you say that as evidence of your overwhelming
affection for her or as a proof of your high sense of honour?"
He continued to glare at me in silence.
"You find that an inconvenient question, eh?"
Still the same dogged silence.
"You can't brazen this out by just staring at me, von Bernhoff. Don't
be under any mistake in regard to that. Nor can you bully me, as you
have tried to bully my sister. You are an officer, and belong to a
regiment in which the other officers at any rate are gentlemen. As for
your suspicions, you can go and shout them at the top of your voice on
parade, for all I care. But both you and I know well enough what your
fellow-officers will think of your conduct."
This touched him. He winced and began to protest. "I did not mean
anything of the sort."
"I don't care a beggar's shirt what you say you meant. It's what you
have done. I know your Colonel pretty well, and he shall be the judge
in this."
"I protest----"
"To the devil with your protests," I cried angrily. "It is your action
which matters. That's all. We'll go straight to him together."
All his doggedness had vanished now, and he was as limp as a chewed
cigar end.
"I beg you will not do anything of the kind. If you like to make this a
personal matter between us two----"
"Not I," I broke in with a short angry laugh. "I'll have no duel as a
way out for you. You can convince your Colonel that you did not mean
what your acts suggest. Come to him with me now--if you dare."
But he dared not. I knew that; for I knew what the result would be, and
so did he. "I am very sorry," he stammered. "I apologize. I---- What
more can I do?"
"You can get out of the house," and I threw open the door. "As for your
suspicions, tell them to whom you please--but don't let me hear of it."
Without another word, without a glance even, he slunk out with his tail
well between his legs, like the beaten cur he was.
I could afford to laugh at his threats, after my interview with Borsen
and my recognition as a sort of unofficial "delegate" in Althea's
affairs. There was a tacit agreement that I was to have some little
time in which to arrange things, and any chatter from von Bernhoff was
not likely to do any harm.
I told Bessie the result of my talk to von Bernhoff, and then went out
to lunch at my club and make some inquiries about the inner working of
this Polish Irreconcilable movement. As I was to be one of them, I had
better know all I could.
I got plenty of rumours and reports and gossip and a few facts. As
England always has her Irish question with its disaffected Nationalists
subject to occasional spurts of violence, so Germany will always have a
Polish question. But her policy of drastic measures and sharp
repression drives the trouble beneath the surface, where it festers like
a national canker.
Openly the Irreconcilables were keeping within the law, and seeking an
alliance with the powerful Socialist party and other sections, in the
hope that eventually the combination would become strong enough to
dictate the policy of the Empire, when it was hoped they would use their
power to aid the renationalization of Poland.
At the same time, however, they were intriguing incessantly to throw
discredit on the Government by worming out all sorts of official secrets
the disclosure of which would tell to the disadvantage of the Kaiser.
Mole work which was hateful to those in power.
In addition to this some very sinister hints were dropped to me in
confidence by a Polish journalist whom I knew to have excellent channels
of information, about certain mysterious happenings, classed as
"accidents," to Government property. More than one warship had been
suddenly disabled; machinery in Government works had been damaged;
defects in arms and ammunition had developed, and so on.
"You may take it that the official explanation is never the right one.
If the truth is known it is not told," he declared; "but it probably is
not known. You can draw your own inferences. But some day a bigger
accident will happen, and then you may recall my words."
The news was anything but cheering. I had no mind to be mixed up with
men who were planning a policy of violence, and I resolved to speed
matters all I could and put an end to the connexion.
As a first step I would force on von Felsen's marriage with Ziegler's
daughter. I determined to go to von Felsen at once and tell him
point-blank that I should let Ziegler know the truth. On my way to him
I called to see Chalice. She had just returned from Herr Grumpel and
was in high spirits, because the date had been fixed for her first
appearance.
"Think of it, Herr Bastable. In a week's time! Oh, I am nearly beside
myself with delight," she cried, clasping her hands ecstatically.
"A good many things can happen in a week," I said drily.
"Now you are going to be horrid and make me uncomfortable," she pouted.
She had a hundred moods to be assumed at will.
"I don't wish to be horrid, as you call it, but I do wish to speak
seriously to you about----"
"But I don't want to be serious to-day," she broke in. "I want to talk
about the great concert. Just think of my immense stroke of luck. The
Herr had arranged a State concert with the Ventura as his Prima. She
can't come to it, or she won't or something, and he is actually going to
put me in her place. In the place of the great Ventura! Oh, I am like
a wild thing when I think of it. And if you were a little bit of a
friend, you'd be just as excited as I am."
"I'm afraid I am not," I replied somewhat ungraciously. She had not a
thought for Althea; had not even mentioned her name.
"If you have come only to say disagreeable things, I wish you'd choose
another day for them. You'll make me ready to shed tears in a minute."
"What are you going to do about Prince von Graven?"
"Oh, bother the Prince. I have no time to think of him to-day, nor for
the whole week. Think of all it means to me! To appear instead of the
great Ventura!"
"I'm sorry to be a wet blanket, but I must tell you----"
"No, no, no. I won't listen," she cried vehemently, putting her fingers
in her ears and shaking her head vigorously. "Herr Grumpel said I must
not have anything to excite me between now and the concert."
"There will be no concert at all for you if you do not listen to me,
Fraeulein," I declared, as soon as I had a chance of getting a word in.
"Oh, I hate you, I hate you! Go away!" she cried like a child.
I sat on stolidly until she understood that I was really in earnest and
that she could not get rid of me in that way, and then her manner
changed suddenly. She became earnest and looked at me almost piteously.
"Of course I didn't mean that. If there is anything I ought to know
which really does concern the concert, of course I will listen."
"You have not asked about Fraeulein Althea," I reminded her.
"Of course I know she is all right or I should have heard. Has she sent
you now to frighten me?"
"I have not come to frighten you at all, and she does not know that I
have come. I wish only to warn you."
"It is very much the same thing," she said pettishly again.
"Not at all the same thing, I assure you. No one would be more pleased
if you were to make a great hit than I should be. But the fact is that
before a week passes you are much more likely to be in the same plight
as Fraeulein Althea than singing at a concert, unless you have cleared
up this matter of the Prince."
"Do you mean they would try to arrest me? ME?"
"A great many things have happened since I saw you, and this morning I
had it from a high authority that that step is under consideration. The
one arrest has been decided on because Fraeulein Althea is the daughter
of Baron von Ringheim, you are his granddaughter and can judge whether
in such a case you would be likely to be acceptable to the Kaiser as the
chief performer at a State concert."
The colour left her face as she listened, and when I ended she burst
into a storm of tears. "You are cruel! It is infamous! Why persecute
me in this way?" she cried over and over again. She was almost
hysterical.
I said no more for the moment. If I tell the truth, I thought it only
fair that she should be touched personally by some of the trouble which
she had viewed with such philosophic indifference when it affected only
Althea. With all her caprice and selfishness, however, she had plenty
of shrewdness, and understood the gravity of what I had said.
Presently she choked down her emotion and seized my hand in both her
own. "Forgive me for having spoken as I did. You are right, of course,
and only acting as my friend in telling me this. But what shall I do?"
"Tell the truth, give up Prince von Graven, and let the Kaiser have his
way in regard to this precious Imperial marriage."
"He would never forgive me," she wailed. "What does Althea advise?'"
Althea at last. I checked a smile. She could think of Althea when
there was a difficulty to be solved. "I have not told her."
Suddenly she started as a fresh thought struck her. "You have quarrelled
with the Prince, Herr Bastable."
"That is not the reason for my coming to you. I had some words with him
because he would not be man enough to tell the truth and face the
music."
"It was at my wish."
"I know that, but it does not make any difference to the fact that
Fraeulein Althea was being sacrificed for the sake of the secret. But
if the truth is not told, you may depend on it you will never have the
chance of appearing at that concert."
"I don't know what to do."
I got up. "The others will not let me decide for you, and you must do
as you will; but you can now see all that hangs on the decision."
"Oh, don't leave me, Herr Bastable. Help me," she cried, catching and
holding my hand and backing her words with appealing glances.
"Give up the Prince--you do not really care for him; write a
renunciation grounding it on the fact that you do not wish to go counter
to the Kaiser's wish and will do anything rather than injure the
Prince's future; and let me have the document to get it to the Emperor."
"Help me to write it. You write so cleverly."
"No. Don't have it machine made. Let yourself go in writing it. You
have just heard of His Majesty's opposition, your heart is breaking, and
so on."
"It is," she said, with a very piteous look.
"It will--if you don't get your chance at the concert. Think of all that
means to you, and then persuade yourself that your emotion is for the
loss of the Prince and not the sacrifice of your future."
It was rather brutal, but she only laughed. "I will try," she agreed;
and saying that I would see her again on the following day, I left her
to hurry to von Felsen.
I was convinced that she cared no more for the Prince than I did, and
that she had merely kept him tied to her apron-strings as a possible
means of advancing her interests. To me she stood for a type of
calculating, callous selfishness; and yet to the Prince she appeared as
a veritable queen among women. But then I was not in love with her, and
he was; and he would certainly curse me heartily for the advice I had
given her.
When I reached von Felsen's house a somewhat curious thing occurred. I
was asked to wait a while; and as I stood thinking about the coming
interview and staring out of the window into the now gloomy street, the
electric lights of the room were switched on suddenly. I turned on the
instant to find von Felsen in the act of closing the door which the
servant must have left open.
He was not quite quick enough; for I caught sight of a man crossing the
hall rapidly, and recognized him as a fellow named Dragen, one of the
worst characters in Berlin, the bully and worse of a low gambling hell.
I had come across him in my old newspaper work in connexion with a very
unsavoury case.
"Who was that?" I asked sharply.
"Only my servant. What do you mean? And why do you come to me?" and
von Felsen shut the door and stood before it.
Why the lie? Why had he been at such pains to let the man have a good
sight of me? And how long had they been in the room before I knew of
their presence?