"That is what you handed me on my return from the Cabinet Council," he
said, with knit brows. "Now, what explanation have you to offer?"
"What can I offer?" I cried. "The envelope I gave you was the same
that you handed to me. I could swear to it."
"No, it was not," he replied quickly. "Glance at the seal."
Taking it to the light I examined the seal carefully, but failed to
detect anything unusual. It bore in black wax the Warnham coat of arms
impressed by the large, beautifully-cut amethyst which the Earl wore
attached to the piece of rusty silk ribbon that served him as watch
chain.
"I can see nothing wrong with this," I said, glancing up at him.
"I admit that the imitation is so carefully executed that it is
calculated to deceive any eye except my own." Then, putting on his
_pince-nez_, he made an impression in wax with his own seal and pointed
out a slight flaw which, in the impression upon the envelope, did not
exist.
"And your endorsement. Is it not in your own hand?" he inquired.
I turned over the envelope and looked. It bore the designation
"B27,893," just as I had written it, and the writing was either my own
or such a marvellously accurate imitation that I was compelled to
confess my inability to point out any discrepancy.
"Then the writing is yours, eh?" the Earl asked abruptly. "If it is,
you must be aware who forged the seal."
"The writing certainly contains all the characteristics of mine, but I
am not absolutely sure it is not a forgery. In any case, I am confident
that the document you gave me I handed back to you." Then I explained
carefully, and in detail, the events which occurred from the time he
gave the treaty into my possession, up to the moment I handed it back to
him.
"But how can you account for giving back to me a blank sheet of paper in
an envelope secured by a forged seal?" he asked, regarding me with
undisguised suspicion. "You do not admit even taking it from your
pocket, neither have you any suspicion of the friend with whom you
lunched. I should like to hear his independent version."
"That is impossible," I answered.
"Why?" he asked, pricking up his ears and scenting a mystery.
"Because he is dead."
At that moment our conversation was interrupted by the sharp ringing of
the bell of the telegraph instrument near us, and an instant later the
telegraphist in charge entered, and seated himself at the table.
Click, click, click--click--click began the needle, and next moment the
clerk, turning to the Earl, exclaimed,--
"An important message from St Petersburg, your Lordship."
"Read it as it comes through," the Earl replied breathlessly, walking
towards the instrument and bending eagerly over it.
Then, as the rapid metallic click again broke the silence, the clerk, in
monotonous tones, exclaimed,--
"_From Lobetski, St Petersburg, via Hamburg. To Earl of Warnham.--A
proclamation signed by the Tzar declaring war against England has just
been received at the Foreign Office, but it is as yet kept secret. It
will probably be posted in the streets this evening. Greatest activity
prevails at the War Office and Admiralty. Regiments in the military
districts of Charkoff, Odessa, Warsaw and Kieff have received orders to
complete their cadres of officers to war strength, recalling to the
colours all officers on the retired list and on leave. This is a
preliminary step to the complete mobilisation of the Russian forces.
All cipher messages now refused_."
The Earl, with frantic effort, grasped at the edge of the table, then
staggered unevenly, and sank back into a chair, rigid and speechless.