True to her promise, the Princess von Steinheimer was waiting at the
immense railway station of Vienna, and she received her friend with
gushing effusion. Jennie left the train as neat as when she had entered
it, for many women have the faculty of taking long journeys without
showing the dishevelled effect which protracted railway travelling seems
to have upon the masculine, and probably more careless, portion of
humanity.
“Oh, you dear girl!” cried the Princess; “you cannot tell how glad I am
to see you. I was just yearning for someone to talk English to. I am so
tired of French and German, although they flatter me by saying that I
speak those two languages extremely well; yet English is my own tongue,
and it is so delightful to talk with one who can understand every
blessed word you say, which you can easily see those who pretend to
speak English in Vienna do not. What long chats we shall have! And now
come this way to the carriage. There is a man here to look after your
luggage. You are coming right home with me and are going to stay with me
as long as you are in Vienna. Don’t say, ‘No,’ nor make any excuse, nor
talk of going to an hotel, for a suite of rooms is all ready for you,
and your luggage will be there before we are. Now let us enter the
carriage, for I am just pining to hear what it is you have on hand. Some
delicious scandal, I hope.”
“No,” answered Jennie; “it pertains to Government matters.”
“Oh, dear!” cried the Princess; “how tiresome! Politics are so dull.”
“I don’t think this case is dull,” said Jennie; “because it has brought
Austria and England to the verge of war.”
“What a dreadful idea! I hadn’t heard anything of it. When did this
happen?”
“Less than a month ago,” and Jennie related the whole circumstance,
giving a synopsis of the Premier’s speech.
“But I see nothing in that speech to cause war,” protested the Princess.
“It is as mild as new milk.”
“I don’t pretend to understand diplomacy,” continued Jennie, blushing
slightly as she remembered Lord Donal; and it seemed that the same
thought struck the Princess at the same moment, for she looked
quizzically at Jennie and burst out into a laugh.
“You may laugh,” cried the girl; “but I tell you that this is a serious
business. They say it only needed a second ‘new milk’ speech from the
Premier to have England answer most politely in words of honey, and next
instant the two countries would have been at each other’s throats.”
“Suppose we write to Lord Donal in St. Petersburg,” suggested the
Princess, still laughing, “and ask him to come to Vienna and help us? He
understands all about diplomacy. By the way, Jennie, did Lord Donal ever
find out whom he met at the ball that night?”
“No, he didn’t,” answered Miss Baxter shortly.
“Don’t you ever intend to let him know? Are you going to leave the
romance unfinished, like one of Henry James’s novels?”
“It isn’t a romance; it is simply a very distressing incident which I
have been trying to forget ever since. It is all very well for you to
laugh, but if you ever mention the subject again I’ll leave you and go
to an hotel.”
“Oh, no, you won’t,” chirruped the Princess brightly; “you daren’t. You
know I hold all the trump cards; at any time I can send a letter to
Lord Donal and set the poor young man’s mind at rest. So you see, Miss
Jennie, you will have to talk very sweetly and politely to me and not
make any threats, because I am like those dreadful persons in the
sensational plays who possess the guilty secrets of other people and
blackmail them. But you are a nice girl, and I won’t say anything you
don’t want to hear said. Now, what is it you wish to find out about this
political crisis?”
“I want to discover why the Premier did not follow up his speech with
another. He must have known when he spoke how his words would be taken
in England; therefore it is thought that he had some plans which
unforeseen circumstances intervening have nullified. I want to know what
those unforeseen circumstances were, and what these plans were. For the
past fortnight the _Daily Bugle_ has had two men here in Vienna trying
to throw some light on the dark recesses of diplomacy. Up to date they
have failed, but at any moment they may succeed; it was because they
failed that I am sent here. Now, have you anything to suggest, Madame la
Princesse?”
“I suggest, Jennie, that we put our heads together and learn all that
those diplomatists wish to hide. Have you no plans yourself?”
“I have no very definite plan, but I have a general scheme. These men
I spoke of are trying to discover what other men are endeavouring to
conceal. All the officials are on their guard; they are highly placed,
and are not likely to be got at by bribery. They are clever, alert men
of the world, so hoodwinking them is out of the question; therefore I
think my two fellow journalists have a difficult task before them.”
“But it is the same task that you have before you; why is it not as
difficult for you, Jennie, as for them?”
“Because I propose to work with people who are not on their guard, and
there is where you can help me, if you are not shocked at my proposal.
Each official has a wife, or at least most of them have. Some of these
wives, in all probability, possess the information that we would like to
get. Women will talk more freely with women than men will with men. Now,
I propose to leave the officials severely alone and to interview their
wives.”
The Princess clapped her hands.
“Excellent!” she cried. “The women of Vienna are the greatest gossips
you ever heard chattering together. I have never taken any interest in
politics, otherwise I suppose I might have become possessed of some
important Government secrets. Now, Jennie, I’ll tell you what I propose
doing. I shall give a formal tea next Thursday afternoon. I shall invite
to that tea a dozen, or two dozen, or three dozen wives of influential
officials about the Court. My husband will like that, because he is
always complaining that I do not pay enough attention to the ladies of
the political circle of Vienna. He takes a great interest in politics,
you know. If we discover nothing at the first tea-meeting, we will have
another, and another, and another, until we do. We are sure to invite
the right woman on one of those occasions, and when we find her I’ll
warrant the secret will soon belong to us. Ah, here we are at home, and
we will postpone the discussion of our delightful conspiracy until you
have had something to eat and are rested a bit.”
The carriage drew up at the magnificent palace, well known in Vienna,
which belongs to the Prince von Steinheimer; and shortly afterwards
Jennie Baxter found herself in possession of the finest suite of rooms
she had ever beheld in her life. Jennie laughed as she looked round her
apartment and noted its luxuriant appointments.
“These are not exactly what we should call ‘diggings’ in London, are
they?” she said to the Princess, who stood by her side, delighted at the
pleasure of her friend. “We often read of poor penny-a-liners in their
garrets; but I don’t think any penny-a-liner ever had such a garret as
this placed at his disposal.”
“I knew you would like the rooms,” cried the Princess gaily. “I like
them myself, and I hope they will help to induce you to stay in Vienna
as long as you can. I have given you my own maid Gretlich, and I assure
you it isn’t every friend I would lend her to; she is a model servant.”
“Oh, but you mustn’t do that,” said Jennie. “I cannot rob you of your
maid and also be selfish enough to monopolize these rooms.”
“You are not robbing me; in fact, I am, perhaps, a little artful in
giving you Gretlich, for she is down in the dumps this last week or two,
and I don’t know what in the world is the matter with her. I suspect it
is some love affair; but she will say nothing, although I have asked
her time and again what is the trouble. Now, you are such a cheery,
consoling young woman that I thought if Gretlich were in your service
for a time she might brighten up and be her own self again. So you
see, instead of robbing me, I am really taking advantage of your good
nature.”
“I am afraid you are just saying that to make it easier for me to be
selfish; still, you are so generous, Princess, that I am not going to
object to anything you do, but just give myself up to luxury while I
stay in Vienna.”
“That is right. Ah, here is Gretlich. Now, Gretlich, I want you to help
make Miss Baxter’s stay here so pleasant that she will never want to
leave us.”
“I shall do my best, your Highness,” said the girl, with quiet
deference.
The Princess left the two alone together, and Jennie saw that Gretlich
was not the least ornamental appendage to the handsome suite of rooms.
Gretlich was an excellent example of that type of fair women for which
Vienna is noted; but she was, as the Princess had said, extremely
downcast, and Jennie, who had a deep sympathy for all who worked, spoke
kindly to the girl and endeavoured to cheer her. There was something of
unaccustomed tenderness in the compassionate tones of Jennie’s voice
that touched the girl, for, after a brief and ineffectual effort at
self-control, she broke down and wept. To her pitying listener she
told her story. She had been betrothed to a soldier whose regiment was
stationed in the Burg. When last the girl saw her lover he was to be
that night on guard in the Treasury. Before morning a catastrophe of
some kind occurred. The girl did not know quite what had happened. Some
said there had been a dreadful explosion and her lover had lost his
life. Neither the soldier’s relatives nor his betrothed were allowed to
see him after the disaster. He had been buried secretly, and it appeared
to be the intention of the authorities to avoid all publicity. The
relatives and the betrothed of the dead soldier had been warned to keep
silence and seek no further information. It was not till several days
after her lover’s death that Gretlich, anxious because he did not keep
his appointment with her, and not hearing from him, fearing that he was
ill, began to make inquiries; then she received together the information
and the caution.
In the presence of death all consolers are futile, and Jennie realized
this as she endeavoured as well as she could to comfort the girl. Her
heart was so much enlisted in this that perhaps her intellect was the
less active; but here she stood on the very threshold of the secret she
had come to Vienna to discover, and yet had not the slightest suspicion
that the girl’s tragedy and her own mission were interwoven. Jennie had
wondered at the stupidity of Cadbury Taylor, who failed to see what
seemed so plainly before him, yet here was Jennie herself come a
thousand miles, more or less, to obtain certain information, and here a
sobbing girl was narrating the very item of news that she had come so
far to learn--all of which would seem to show that none of us are so
bright and clever as we imagine ourselves to be.
In the afternoon the Princess entered Jennie’s sitting-room carrying in
her hand a bunch of letters.
“There!” she cried, “while you have been resting I have been working,
and we are not going to allow any time to be lost. I have written
with my own hand invitations to about two dozen people to our tea on
Thursday; among others, the wife of the Premier, Countess Stron. I
expect you to devote yourself to that lady and tell me the result of
the conversation after it is over. Have you been talking consolation to
Gretlich? I came up here half an hour ago, and it seemed to me I heard
the sound of crying in this room.”
“Oh, yes,” said Jennie, “she has been telling me all her trouble. It
seems she had a lover in the army, and he has been killed in some
accident in the Treasury.”
“What kind of an accident?”
“Gretlich said there had been an explosion there.”
“Dear me! I never heard of it. It is a curious thing that one must come
from London to tell us our own news. An explosion in the Treasury! and
so serious that a soldier was killed! That arouses my curiosity, so I
shall just sit down and write another invitation to the wife of the
Master of the Treasury.”
“I wish you would, because I should like to know something further about
this myself. Gretlich seems to have had but scant information regarding
the occurrence, and I should like to know more about it so that I might
tell her.”
“We shall learn all about it from madame, and I must write that note at
once for fear I forget it.”