Two hours later Arnaud Rigaux entered his small, well-furnished den in
the big house on the broad Boulevard de Waterloo, close to the medieval
Porte de Hal, that medieval castle-like structure, now the fine Musee
d'Armes, known to every traveller in Brussds.
Scarcely had he crossed the threshold when his man, a white-haired,
ultra respectable-looking valet, ushered in a rather stout, middle-aged
man of military bearing, with fair hair and blue-grey eyes. He was
wearing a cap and a motor dust-coat.
"Ah! my dear Guillaume! I must apologise," Rigaux said. "I had no idea
you had been waiting for me."
"Your servant was unaware where you were. We telephoned to a dozen
places. I arrived from Cologne just after nine o'clock."
Rigaux glanced at the closed door rather apprehensively, and then in a
low voice asked:
"What does it all mean?"
"War," replied the other in a whisper. "The Emperor is in Cologne in
secret. I had audience with him at three o'clock, and he sent me to
you. I have to return at once. I was to tell you that his Majesty
wishes for your final report."
For a moment the financier's narrow eyes grew serious, and his lips
quivered.
"The reply from England has not yet been received," his visitor went on,
speaking in excellent French, though he was undoubtedly German. "But
whatever it may be, the result will be the same. Eight Army Corps are
moving upon the Luxembourg frontier. They will soon be in Belgium.
What a surprise our big howitzers will be for the forts of Namur and
Liege--eh?"
And he laughed lightly, chuckling to himself. Captain Wilhelm von
Silberfeld, of the famous Death's Head Hussars, was a trusted messenger
of the Kaiser, a man who had performed many a secret mission for his
Imperial Master. He was attached to the General Staff in Berlin, and
for hours he had sat in the fast two-seated motor-car, travelling
swiftly over the hundred and sixty miles or so of long, straight white
roads which led from Cologne to the Belgian capital.
"In four days we shall be in Belgium," the German officer whispered.
"The Emperor, as you know, decided upon war three months ago, and ever
since we have been steadily and carefully making the final preparations.
What is the opinion here?"
"The Cabinet meets to-night. The Government do not, even now, believe
that Germany really intends to defy Europe, and I, of course, have
endeavoured still to lull them to sleep," responded the financier. "But
I have not been idle these past three days. My reports are all
prepared. The last was written at seven o'clock this evening."
And crossing to a big, heavy book-case, which occupied the whole of one
side of the room, he opened one of the glass doors. Then, pulling
forward a section of the books which swung round upon a pivot, there was
disclosed the green-painted door of a safe, securely built into the
wall. This he opened with a key upon his chain, and from a drawer took
out a large envelope filled with papers, which he handed to his visitor.
"All are here?" asked the other.
"Yes. According to instructions I received by courier yesterday, I have
prepared the list of names of influential persons in Liege and Louvain--
the banks, and what cash I believe them to hold. How are you proceeding
in Antwerp?"
"Antwerp is practically a German city. We have, outside the city, six
concrete platforms ready for our big howitzers. They were put down two
years ago by German residents in their gardens--for the English game of
tennis," and he laughed. "Besides, we have three secret wireless
installations of wide range communicating with Nauen, as we also have
here in Brussels. Is your wireless here in working order?"
"S-s-sh, my friend?" Rigaux said warningly. "I will send Michel out on
a pretext, and you shall see. He is loyal, but I trust no man. I never
let him know too much."
Then he rang, and his man, white-haired and humble, appeared.
"Michel, go down to the Grand Hotel at once and ask for Monsieur
Legrand. Tell him I wish to see him. If he will kindly come up here in
a taxi."
"_Bien, m'sieur_!" and the grave-faced servant bowed and withdrew.
A few moments later Arnaud Rigaux took from a drawer in his library
table an electric torch and led the way up the great wide staircase,
through his own bedroom, past a door into a smaller dressing-room, in
which was a huge mahogany wardrobe. The door of this he opened, and
pushing the back outwards through a line of coats hanging there, a dark
opening was revealed. Into this both men passed, finding themselves
upon a wooden flight of dusty stairs, up which they ascended for two
floors, until they arrived in a long, low attic, beneath the sloping
roof of which were suspended, upon porcelain insulators, many thin,
black-enamelled wires.
"Come! You shall hear for yourself," Rigaux exclaimed; and passing
along to the gable-end of the main wall of the house, he paused before
two tables, upon which were set out a most complete set of wireless
instruments.
To the uninitiated eye those two tables were filled with a most
complicated assortment of weird electrical apparatus connected by
india-rubber covered wires. To the expert, however, all was quite
clear. On the one table stood a receiving-set of the latest pattern,
while upon the other was what is technically known as "a five kilowatt
set," which would transmit wireless messages as far as Nauen, the great
wireless station near Potsdam, and, indeed, over a radius of nearly a
thousand miles. It was a Marconi set, not Telefunken.
Arnaud Rigaux seated himself upon a stool before the receiving-table,
while overhead, insulated from the rafters of the roof, were a hundred
bare copper wires strung across and across. His example was followed by
Captain von Silberfeld, both clamping the double head-telephones over
their ears, listening.
Next instant both heard the buzzing ticks of wireless, so weird and
uncanny to those uninitiated.
"Da-de, Da-de-da. Da-de, Da-de-da."