Anna passed her hand through Norgate's arm and led him forcibly away from
the shop window before which they had been standing.
"My mind is absolutely made up," she declared firmly. "I adore
shopping, I love Bond Street, and I rather like you, but I will have no
more trifles, as you call them. If you do not obey, I shall gaze into
the next tobacconist's window we pass, and go in and buy you all sorts
of unsmokable and unusable things. And, oh, dear, here is the Count! I
feel like a child who has played truant from school. What will he do to
me, Francis?"
"Don't worry, dear," Norgate laughed. "We're coming to the end of this
tutelage, you know."
Count Lanyoki, who had stopped his motor-car, came across the street
towards them. He was, as usual, irreproachably attired. He wore white
gaiters, patent shoes, and a grey, tall hat. His black hair, a little
thin at the forehead, was brushed smoothly back. His moustache, also
black but streaked with grey, was twisted upwards. He had, as always, the
air of having just left the hands of his valet.
"Dear Baroness," he exclaimed, as he accosted her, "London has been
searched for you! At the Embassy my staff are reduced to despair.
Telephones, notes, telegrams, and personal calls have been in vain.
Since lunch-time yesterday it seemed to us that you must have found some
other sphere in which to dwell."
"Perhaps I have," Anna laughed. "I am so sorry to have given you all this
trouble, but yesterday--well, let me introduce, if I may, my husband, Mr.
Francis Norgate. We were married by special license yesterday afternoon."
The Count's amazement was obvious. Diplomatist though he was, it was
several seconds before he could collect himself and rise to the
situation. He broke off at last, however, in the midst of a string of
interjections and realised his duties.
"My dear Baroness," he said, "my dear lady, let me wish you every
happiness. And you, sir," he added, turning to Norgate, "you must have,
without a doubt, my most hearty congratulations. There! That is said. And
now to more serious matters. Baroness, have you not always considered
yourself the ward of the Emperor?"
She nodded.
"His Majesty has been very kind to me," she admitted. "At the same time,
I feel that I owe more to myself than I do to him. His first essay at
interfering in my affairs was scarcely a happy one, was it?"
"Perhaps not," the Count replied. "And yet, think what you have done! You
have married an Englishman!"
"I thought English people were quite popular in Vienna," Anna
reminded him.
The Count hesitated. "That," he declared, "is scarcely the question.
What troubles me most is that forty-eight hours ago I brought you a
dispatch from the Emperor."
"You brought," Anna pointed out, "what really amounted to an order to
return at once to Vienna. Well, you see, I have disobeyed it."
They were standing at the corner of Clifford Street, and the Count, with
a little gesture, led the way into the less crowded thoroughfare.
"Dear Baroness," he continued, as they walked slowly along, "I am placed
now in a most extraordinary position. The Emperor's telegram was of
serious import. It cannot be that you mean to disobey his summons?"
"Well, I really couldn't put off being married, could I," Anna protested,
"especially when my husband had just got the special license. Besides, I
do not wish to return to Vienna just now."
The Count glanced at Norgate and appeared to deliberate for a moment.
"The state of affairs in the East," he said, "is such that it is
certainly wiser for every one just now to be within the borders of their
own country."
"You believe that things are serious?" Anna enquired. "You believe, then,
that real trouble is at hand?"
"I fear so," the Count acknowledged. "It appears to us that Servia has a
secret understanding with Russia, or she would not have ventured upon
such an attitude as she is now adopting towards us. If that be so, the
possibilities of trouble are immense, almost boundless. That is why,
Baroness, the Emperor has sent for you. That is why I think you should
not hesitate to at once obey his summons."
Anna looked up at her companion, her eyes wide open, a little smile
parting her lips.
"But, Count," she exclaimed, "you seem to forget! A few days ago, all
that you say to me was reasonable enough, but to-day there is a great
difference, is there not? I have married an Englishman. Henceforth this
is my country."
There was a moment's silence. The Count seemed dumbfounded. He stared at
Anna as though unable to grasp the meaning of her words.
"Forgive me, Baroness!" he begged. "I cannot for the moment realise the
significance of this thing. Do you mean me to understand that you
consider yourself now an Englishwoman?"
"I do indeed," she assented. "There are many ties which still bind me to
Austria--ties, Count," she proceeded, looking him in the face, "of which
I shall be mindful. Yet I am not any longer the Baroness von Haase. I am
Mrs. Francis Norgate, and I have promised to obey my husband in all
manner of ridiculous things. At the same time, may I add something which
will, perhaps, help you to accept the position with more philosophy? My
husband is a friend of Herr Selingman's."
The Count glanced quickly towards Norgate. There was some relief in his
face--a great deal of distrust, however.
"Baroness," he said, "my advice to you, for your own good entirely, is,
with all respect to your husband, that you shorten your honeymoon and
pay your respects to the Emperor. I think that you owe it to him. I think
that you owe it to your country."
Anna for a moment was grave again.
"Just at present," she pronounced, "I realise one debt only, and that is
to my husband. I will come to the Embassy to-morrow and discuss these
matters with you, Count, but whether my husband accompanies me or not, I
have now no secrets from him."
"The position, then," the Count declared, "is intolerable. May I ask
whether you altogether realise, Baroness; what this means? The Emperor is
your guardian. All your estates are subject to his jurisdiction. It is
his command that you return to Vienna."
Anna laughed again. She passed her fingers through Norgate's arm.
"You see," she explained, as they stood for a moment at the corner of the
street, "I have a new emperor now, and he will not let me go."
* * * * *
Selingman frowned a little as he recognised his visitor. Nevertheless,
he rose respectfully to his feet and himself placed a chair by the side
of his desk.
"My dear Count!" he exclaimed. "I am very glad to see you, but this is an
unusual visit. I would have met you somewhere, or come to the Embassy.
Have we not agreed that it was well for Herr Selingman, the crockery
manufacturer--"
"That is all very well, Selingman," the Count interrupted, "but this
morning I have had a shock. It was necessary for me to talk with you at
once. In Bond Street I met the Baroness von Haase. For twenty-four hours
London has been ransacked in vain for her. This you may not know, but I
will now tell you. She has been our trusted agent, the trusted agent of
the Emperor, in many recent instances. She has carried secrets in her
brain, messages to different countries. There is little that she does not
know. The last twenty-four hours, as I say, I have sought for her. The
Emperor requires her presence in Vienna. I meet her in Bond Street this
morning and she introduces to me her husband, an English husband, Mr.
Francis Norgate!"
He drew back a little, with outstretched hands. Selingman's face,
however, remained expressionless.
"Married already!" he commented. "Well, that is rather a surprise."
"A surprise? To be frank, it terrifies me!" the Count cried. "Heaven
knows what that woman could tell an Englishman, if she chose! And her
manner--I did not like it. The only reassuring thing about it was that
she told me that her husband was one of your men."
"Quite true," Selingman assented. "He is. It is only recently that he
came to us, but I do not mind telling you that during the last few weeks
no one has done such good work. He is the very man we needed."
"You have trusted him?"
"I trust or I do not trust," Selingman replied. "That you know. I have
employed this young man in very useful work. I cannot blindfold him.
He knows."
"Then I fear treachery," the Count declared.
"Have you any reason for saying that?" Selingman asked.
The Count lit a cigarette with trembling fingers.
"Listen," he said, "always, my friend, you undervalue a little the
English race. You undervalue their intelligence, their patriotism, their
poise towards the serious matters of life. I know nothing of Mr. Francis
Norgate save what I saw this morning. He is one of that type of
Englishmen, clean-bred, well-born, full of reserve, taciturn, yet, I
would swear, honourable. I know the type, and I do not believe in such a
man being your servant."
The shadow of anxiety crossed Selingman's face.
"Have you any reason for saying this?" he repeated.
"No reason save the instinct which is above reason," the Count replied
quickly. "I know that if the Baroness and he put their heads together, we
may be under the shadow of catastrophe."
Selingman sat with folded arms for several moments.
"Count," he said at last, "I appreciate your point of view. You have, I
confess, disturbed me. Yet of this young man I have little fear. I did
not approach him by any vulgar means. I took, as they say here, the bull
by the horns. I appealed to his patriotism."
"To what?" the Count demanded incredulously.
"To his patriotism," Selingman repeated. "I showed him the decadence of
his country, decadence visible through all her institutions, through her
political tendencies, through her young men of all classes. I convinced
him that what the country needed was a bitter tonic, a kind but
chastening hand. I convinced him of this. He believes that he betrays his
country for her ultimate good. As I told you before, he has brought me
information which is simply invaluable. He has a position and connections
which are unique."
The Count drew his chair a little nearer.
"You say that he has done you great service," he said. "Well, you must
admit for yourself that the day is too near now for much more to be
expected. Could you not somehow guard against his resolution breaking
down at the last moment? Think what it may mean to him--the sound of his
national anthem at a critical moment, the clash of arms in the distance,
the call of France across the Channel. A week--even half a week's extra
preparation might make much difference."
Selingman sat for a short time, deep in thought. Then he drew out a box
of pale-looking German cigars and lit one.
"Count," he announced solemnly, "I take off my hat to you. Leave the
matter in my hands."