Norgate, after leaving Anna at her hotel, drove on to the club, where he
arrived a few minutes before seven. Selingman was there with Prince
Edward, and half a dozen others. Selingman, who happened not to be
playing, came over at once and sat by his side on the broad fender.
"You are late, my young friend," he remarked.
"My new career," Norgate replied, "makes demands upon me. I can no longer
spend the whole afternoon playing bridge. I have been attending to
business."
"It is very good," Selingman declared amiably. "That is the way I like to
hear you talk. To amuse oneself is good, but to work is better still.
Have you, by chance, any report to make?"
"I have had a long conversation with Mr. Hebblethwaite at Ranelagh this
afternoon," Norgate announced.
There was a sudden change in Selingman's expression, a glint of eagerness
in his eyes.
"With Hebblethwaite! You have begun well. He is the man above all others
of whose views we wish to feel absolutely certain. We know that he is a
strong man and a pacifist, but a pacifist to what extent? That is what we
wish to be clear about. Now tell me, you spoke to him seriously?"
"Very seriously, indeed," Norgate assented. "The subject suggested
itself naturally, and I contrived to get him to discuss the possibilities
of a European war. I posed rather as a pessimist, but he simply jeered at
me. He assured me that an earthquake was more probable. I pressed him on
the subject of the _entente_. He spoke of it as a thing of romance and
sentiment, having no place in any possible development of the
international situation. I put hypothetical cases of a European war
before him, but he only scoffed at me. On one point only was he
absolutely and entirely firm--under no circumstances whatever would the
present Cabinet declare war upon anybody. If the nation found itself face
to face with a crisis, the Government would simply choose the most
dignified and advantageous solution which embraced peace. In short, there
is one thing which you may count upon as absolutely certain. If England
goes to war at any time within the next four years, it will be under some
other government."
Selingman was vastly interested. He had drawn very close to Norgate, his
pudgy hands stretched out upon his knees. He dropped his voice so that it
was audible only a few feet away.
"Let me put an extreme case," he suggested. "Supposing Russia and Germany
were at war, and France, as Russia's ally, were compelled to mobilise. It
would not be a war of Germany's provocation, but Germany, in
self-defence, would be bound to attack France. She might also be
compelled by strategic considerations to invade Belgium. What do you
think your friend Hebblethwaite would say to that?"
"I am perfectly convinced," Norgate replied, "that Hebblethwaite would
work for peace at any price. The members of our present Government are
pacifists, every one of them, with the possible exception of the
Secretary of the Admiralty."
"Ah!" Mr. Selingman murmured. "Mr. Spencer Wyatt! He is the gentleman who
clamours so hard and fights so well for his navy estimates. Last time,
though, not all his eloquence could prevail. They were cut down almost a
half, eh?"
"I believe that was so," Norgate admitted.
"Mr. Spencer Wyatt, eh?" Selingman continued, his eyes fixed upon the
ceiling. "Well, well, one cannot wonder at his attitude. It is not his
role to pose as an economist. He is responsible for the navy.
Naturally he wants a big navy. I wonder what his influence in the
Cabinet really is."
"As to that," Norgate observed, "I know no more than the man in
the street."
"Naturally," Mr. Selingman agreed. "I was thinking to myself."
There was a brief silence. Norgate glanced around the room.
"I don't see Mrs. Benedek here this afternoon," he remarked.
Selingman shook his head solemnly.
"The inquest on the death of that poor fellow Baring is being held
to-day," he explained. "That is why she is staying away. A sad thing
that, Norgate--a very sad happening."
"It was indeed."
"And mysterious," Selingman went on. "The man apparently, an hour before,
was in high spirits. The special work upon which he was engaged at the
Admiralty was almost finished. He had received high praise for his share
in it. Every one who had seen him that day spoke of him as in absolutely
capital form. Suddenly he whips out a revolver from his desk and shoots
himself, and all that any one knows is that he was rung up by some one on
the telephone. There's a puzzle for you, Norgate."
Norgate made no reply. He felt Selingman's eyes upon him.
"A wonderful plot for the sensational novelist. To the ordinary human
being who knew Baring, there remains a substratum almost of uneasiness.
Where did that voice come from that spoke along the wires, and what was
its message? Baring, by all accounts, had no secrets in his life. What
was the message--a warning or a threat?"
"I did not read the account of the inquest," Norgate observed. "Wasn't it
possible to trace the person who rang up, through the telephone office?"
"In an ordinary case, yes," Selingman agreed. "In this case, no! The
person who rang up made use of a call office. But come, it is a gloomy
subject, this. I wish I had known that you were likely to see Mr.
Hebblethwaite this afternoon. Bear this in mind in case you should come
across him again. It would interest me very much to know whether any
breach of friendship has taken place at all between him and Mr. Spencer
Wyatt. Do you know Spencer Wyatt, by-the-by?"
"Only slightly," Norgate replied, "Not well enough to talk to him
intimately, as I can do to Hebblethwaite."
"Well, remember that last little commission," Selingman concluded. "Are
you staying on or leaving now? If you are going, we will walk together. A
little exercise is good for me sometimes. My figure requires it. It is a
very short distance, but it is better than nothing at all."
"I am quite ready," Norgate assured him.
They left the room and descended the stairs together. At the entrance
to the building, Selingman paused for a moment. Then he seemed suddenly
to remember.
"It is habit," he declared. "I stand here for a taxi, but we have agreed
to walk, is it not so? Come!"
Norgate was looking across the street to the other side of the pavement.
A man was standing there, engaged in conversation with a plainly-dressed
young woman. To Norgate there was something vaguely familiar about the
latter, who turned to glance at him as they strolled by on the other side
of the road. It was not until they reached the corner of the street,
however, that he remembered. She was the young woman at the telephone
call office near Westbourne Grove!