The early morning was dry, frosty, but starless. The clock of that
fashionable temple of Hymen, St George's, Hanover Square, was slowly
chiming three as I alighted from a cab at the corner of Mount Street,
and walking along Berkeley Square, ascended the steps of the Earl of
Warnham's great mansion, and rang its ponderous bell. The place was
severe and gloomy enough by day, but in the silence and darkness of the
night its exterior presented a forbidding, almost ghostly appearance.
It was an unusual hour for a call, but, knowing that a porter was on
duty always, and that dispatches frequently arrived during the night, I
had no hesitation in seeking an interview.
In a few moments there was a grating sound of bolts drawn back, a
clanking of chains, and the heavy door was slowly opened by the sleepy
man, who, with a word of recognition, at once admitted me. Walking
across the great square hall; warmed by a huge, roaring fire, I passed
down the passage to the Earl's study and rapped at the door, receiving
an impatient permission to enter.
The Minister for Foreign Affairs was sitting at his table where I had
left him, with an empty tea-cup at his side, resting his pale, weary
brow upon his hand and writing dispatches rapidly with his scratchy
quill. His fire was nearly out, the pair of candles, in their heavy,
old-fashioned silver candlesticks that stood upon his writing-table, had
burned down almost to their sockets, and the strong smell of burnt paper
that pervaded the book-lined den, showed that, with his innate
cautiousness, he had destroyed documents that he did not desire should
be seen by other eyes.
The world-renowned statesman raised his head as I entered, gave vent to
a low grunt of dissatisfaction, and continued writing at topmost speed.
I saw I was unwelcome, but, well acquainted with his mannerisms and
eccentricities, walked to the fire, added more fuel, and waited in
patience until he had finished.
"Well," he snarled, casting down his pen impatiently, and turning upon
me at last. "I thought you, of all men, were aware that I do not desire
interruption when at work."
"I should not have ventured to come at this hour," I said, "were it not
that the news I bring is of extreme importance."
He sighed, as was his habit when expecting further complications.
"What is its nature?" he asked coldly, leaning back in his chair.
"Abandon preliminaries, please, and come to the point. What is it?"
"I have recovered the original of our secret convention with Germany," I
answered in as quiet a tone as I could assume.
"You have!" he cried excitedly, starting up. "You are quite right to
seek me at once--quite right. Where did you obtain it?" he inquired.
Slowly I drew forth the precious document from my pocket, and handed it
to him, still in the envelope that bore my own mark, with the remains of
his broken seal. He took it eagerly and bent to the candles to examine
it more closely. A few seconds sufficed to reassure him that the
document was the genuine one.
"It is fortunate that this has returned into our possession," he
observed, his thin blue lips quivering slightly. "I feared that it had
already passed beyond our reach, and that one day or other in the near
future our policy must be narrowed by the knowledge that it was
preserved in the archives of the Foreign Office at St Petersburg, and
could be used as a pretence for a declaration of war by Russia and
France. Now, however, that the original is again in our possession we
can disclaim all copies, and give assurances that no secret
understanding exists between us and Berlin. The only fact that at
present lends colour to the assertion of the boulevard journals is the
ill-timed bestowal of the Iron Cross upon Count Landsfeldt. Such an
action was characteristic of their impetuous Emperor." Then, after a
second's reflection, he added, "Just sit down, Deedes, and write to Sir
Philip Emden at Berlin, asking him to obtain audience immediately of the
Kaiser, point out the harmful impression this decoration has occasioned,
and get His Majesty to exhibit his marked displeasure towards Landsfeldt
in some form or other. That will remove any suspicion that the
convention is actually an accomplished fact. Besides, you may hint also
that it may be well for the relations between the Kaiser and Sir Philip
to appear slightly strained, and that this fact should be communicated
indirectly to the Press. Sit down and write at once: it must be sent
under flying seal."
I obeyed, and commenced writing a formal dispatch while, in answer to
the electric bell rung by his Lordship, the sleepy night-porter
appeared.
"Calvert," exclaimed the Minister, "telephone to the Foreign Office and
say that I want a messenger to call here and proceed to Berlin by the
morning mail."
"Yes, m'lord," answered the man, bowing and closing the door.
While I wrote, the Earl perused the document, the loss of which had
caused the Cabinets of Europe so much apprehension, and taking his
magnifying glass he examined the portions of the seal still remaining.
Then carefully unlocking one of the small private drawers in the top of
the great writing-table, he took therefrom some object, and gazed upon
it long and earnestly. With a heavy sigh he again replaced it, and
slowly locked the drawer. When I had finished and placed the
instructions to Sir. Philip Emden before him, he took up his quill,
corrected my letter, here and there adding an emphatic word or two, and
then appended his signature. Obtaining one of the bags used for the
transmission of single dispatches, I deposited it therein, sealed it,
and placed upon it one of those labels with a cross drawn upon its face,
the signification of that mark being that it is never to be lost sight
of by the messenger. There are two kinds of bags sent out and received
by the Foreign Office, one with this cross-marked label, and the other
without it. The latter are generally larger and less important, and may
be placed with the messenger's luggage. It is no pleasant life our
messengers lead, liable as they are to be summoned at an hour's notice
to "proceed at once" to anywhere, from Brussels to Teheran. Armed with
a _laissez-passer_, they are constantly hurrying over the face of Europe
as fast as the fastest expresses can carry them, passing through the
frontier stations freed from the troublesome concomitant of ordinary
travelling--the examination of luggage--known on all the great trunk
lines from Paris to Constantinople and from Rome to St Petersburg,
sometimes bearing epoch-making documents, sometimes a lady's hat of
latest mode, or a parcel of foreign delicacies, but always on the alert,
and generally sleeping on a layer of stiff dispatches and bulky "notes."
At last, having made up the bag, I rose slowly and faced my chief.
"Well," he exclaimed, raising his keen eyes from the document I had
brought him and regarding me with that stony, sphinx-like expression he
assumed when resolved upon cross-questioning, "how did you obtain
possession of this?"
"I found it," I answered.
"Found it?" he growled, with a cynical curl of the lip. "I suppose you
have some lame story that you picked it up in the street, or something--
eh!" he exclaimed testily.
"No," I replied hoarsely. "Mine is no lame story, although a wretched
one. The discovery has unnerved and bewildered me; it--"
"I have no desire to know how its discovery affected you mentally," he
interrupted, with impatient sarcasm. "I asked where you found it," he
observed coldly.
"I found it in my own house," I answered.
"Then you mean to tell me that it has been in your possession the whole
time. The thing's impossible," he cried angrily. "Remember the dummy
palmed off upon me, and the fact that an exact copy was transmitted to
St Petersburg."
"No. It has not been in my possession," I answered, leaning against my
writing-chair for support. "I found it among my wife's letters."
"Your wife!" he gasped, agitated. He had turned ghastly pale at mention
of her name, and, trembling with agitation, swayed forward.
A moment later, however, he recovered his self-possession, clutched at
the corner of his table, and regarding me sharply, asked, "What do you
suspect?"
"I scarce know what to suspect," I answered gravely, striving to remain
calm, but remembering at that instant the curious effect produced upon
the Foreign Minister when he had first seen Ella dancing at the Embassy
ball. My declaration that I had found this official bond of nations in
her possession had produced a similar disquieting result which puzzled
me.
"But surely she can have had no hand in the affair," he cried. "She
certainly did not strike me as an adventuress, or an agent of the Tzar's
secret service."
"It is a problem that I cannot solve," I exclaimed slowly, watching the
strange, haggard look upon his usually imperturbable features. "After
leaving you this evening I went home only to find a letter of farewell
from her, and--"
"She has fled, then!" he exclaimed, with quick suspicion.
"Yes. Her flight was evidently pre-arranged, and curiously enough her
mother, who lives in Pont Street, has discharged her servants, disposed
of a good deal of her property, and also departed."
"Gone together, no doubt," the Earl observed, frowning reflectively.
"But is it not very strange that she should have left the stolen
convention behind? Surely if my wife were actually a Russian agent she
would never have been guilty of such indiscretion," I said.
"The mystery is inexplicable, Deedes," he declared, with a heavy look,
half of pain, half of bewilderment. "Absolutely inexplicable."
This aged man, to whose firmness, clever statesmanship, and calm
foresight England owed her place as foremost among the Powers, was
trembling with an excitement he strove in vain to suppress. In manner
that surprised me, his cold, cynical face relaxed, and placing his thin,
bony hand upon my shoulder with fatherly tenderness, Her Majesty's most
trusted Minister urged me to confide in him all my suspicions and my
fears.
"You have, I believe, after all, been cruelly wronged, Deedes," he added
in a low, harsh tone. "I sympathise with you because I myself once felt
the loss of a wife deeply, and I know what feelings must be yours now
that you suspect the woman you have trusted and loved to have been
guilty of base treachery and espionage. She, or someone in association
with her, has besmirched England's honour, and brought us to the very
verge of a terrible national disaster. Providentially, this was
averted; by what means we have not yet ascertained, although our
diplomatic agents at the Court of the Tzar are striving day and night to
ascertain; yet the fact remains that we were victimised by some daring
secret agent who sacrificed everything in order to accomplish the
master-stroke of espionage. I can but re-echo the thanks to Heaven
uttered by my gracious Sovereign when she received the news that war had
been averted; nevertheless it is my duty--nay, it is yours, Deedes, to
strive on without resting, in order that this mystery may be
satisfactorily unravelled."
For a moment we were silent. Then in a voice that I felt painfully
conscious was broken by grief and emotion, I related to him the whole of
the wretched story of my marriage, my suspicions, the discovery of Ella
in Kensington Gardens, how I had taxed her with flirtation and
frivolity, our peace-making, and her sudden and unexpected flight.
He heard me through to the end with bent head, sighing now and then
sympathetically. Then he slowly asked,--"Did you ever refer to those
earlier incidents, such as the death of that young man Ogle? Remember,
whatever you tell me I shall regard as strictly confidential."
"I seldom mentioned it, as she desired me not to do so."
"When you referred to it, what was her attitude?" he inquired, in a
pained tone, the furrows on his high white brow deep and clearly
defined.
"She declared always that he had been murdered, and vowed to detect the
author of the crime."
"Are you, in your own mind, convinced that there was anything really
mysterious regarding her actions; or were they only everyday facts
distorted by jealousy?" he asked gravely.
"There is, I believe, some deep mystery regarding her past," I answered.
He knit his grey, shaggy brows, and started perceptibly.
"Her past!" he echoed. "Were you aware of any--er--unpleasant fact
prior to marriage?" he inquired quickly.
"Yes. She promised to explain everything ere long; therefore, loving
her devotedly as I did, I resolved to make her my wife and await in
patience her explanation."
"Love!" he cried cynically. "She did not love you. She only married
you, it seems, to accomplish her own base and mysterious designs."
Then, pacing the room from end to end, he added, "The more I reflect,
the more apparent does it become that Ella Laing meant, by becoming your
wife, to accomplish some great coup, but, prevented by some unforeseen
circumstance, she has been compelled to fly, and in her haste overlooked
this incriminating paper."
This, too, was my own opinion, and taking from my pocket the whole of
the letters that were in the escritoire, I placed them before him.
"They are from your wife's mysterious lover," he observed, when a few
moments later he had digested them. "Who he is there is no evidence to
show. You suspect him, of course, to be the man she met in Kensington
Gardens?"