When the woman who had declared her love for me had entered the
uninviting-looking place I slipped back to my old position, but was
prevented from listening too openly for fear of awakening the curiosity
of the cocher who was awaiting her. I heard them greet her in English;
then both rose, and all three passed through the cafe to a room beyond,
apparently the apartment of the proprietor. Hence I was unable to
discover the reason of her visit there.
As no purpose could be served by remaining longer in the doorway, I lit
another cigarette with an appearance of carelessness and strolled away
down the narrow street as far as the Avenue de Clichy, returning
presently on the opposite side of the roadway, and waiting in patience
for the conspirators to leave the cafe.
I congratulated myself upon my good-fortune in not being detected, and
was resolved to watch further the doings of the spies. I only wished
that Kaye or Grew were with me, in order to follow up at once the clue I
had thus obtained.
The word "Feltham" was to me extremely puzzling. That chance remark
doubtless referred to a matter brimming over with interest. What were
the "arrangements" that worked so well and were so complete?
Truly, the conspiracy of the Powers against Great Britain, alleged by
Leonie, was a gigantic one. Each hour brought home to me more forcibly
the terrible truth that we were living upon the very edge of a volcano,
whose eruption might be expected at any moment.
For fully half an hour I strolled up and down, always keeping a careful
watch upon the cafe with the faded blinds, until suddenly Edith emerged,
followed by her two companions. Bertini handed her into her cab, and I
heard him order the cocher to drive to the Grand Hotel. Then, as they
stood on the kerb, with their hats in their hands, she bowed and was
driven rapidly off, while they turned and walked together in the
opposite direction, passing down the avenue to the Boulevard de Clichy,
and thence along to the Place Blanche, past that paradise of the British
tourist, the Moulin Rouge.
The four illuminated arms of the Red Windmill were still revolving, and
the night-birds of Paris in their gay plumage were entering and leaving,
for the so-called "life" at that haunt of Terpsichore modernised and
debased does not begin until long after midnight. I never glance in at
those open doors without sighing for my compatriots; and usually fall to
reflecting upon the reason why so many English fathers of families, who
at home would not dream of going to a music-hall, so frequently drift
there with their wives, and often with their daughters. It is a curious
feature of Paris life, absurdly artificial, and almost entirely
supported by my unthinking compatriots, who go there because to have
been there is synonymous with having seen the gay life of the French
capital. Alas! that the British tourist is so gullible, for the
students who dance there in velvet berets and paint-besmirched coats are
no students at all, while the pretty grisette, his companion, is merely
a dancing-girl, in a befitting frock, paid by the management to pose as
a mock Bohemienne. The Moulin Rouge is no more the centre of gay Paris
than is Maskelyne's entertainment the centre of gay London.
Presently, having gained the Rue de Maubeuge, the spies entered that
Bohemian cafe, where a charming air of chez soi and good-fellowship
always pervades--the Cafe of the Red Ass. It has a small and unassuming
front, except that the windows are profusely decorated with painted
flowers and figures, while a red ass looks down from over the narrow
door. It is furnished more like an old curiosity-shop than a cafe, and
has its particular clientele of Bohemians, who come to puff their long
pipes, that hang in racks, and recount their hopes, aspirations,
achievements, and failures, when not shouting some rollicking chorus.
The place was filled with litterateurs of the Quarter, and a celebration
was in progress, one of their number having succeeded in finding a
publisher for a volume of his poetry.
Hence I was enabled to follow the pair unnoticed. They had, I found,
seated themselves at a table with two rather small, ferret-eyed men, who
had apparently been awaiting them. Then all four entered into an
earnest discussion over their bocks, while I sat on the opposite side of
the place, pretending to be interested in the _Soir_, but watching them
as a cat a mouse.
The nature of their conversation was manifestly secret, for all four
looked round furtively from time to time, as though suspicious lest
someone should overhear. Wolf was relating some fact which apparently
created a great impression upon the men whom he and Bertini had met.
Whatever it was he told them, it created evident surprise.
Bertini rolled a cigarette in silence, lit it slowly, and sat back,
blowing clouds of smoke into the air. Loud chatter and laughter and the
rattle of saucers upon the tables sounded everywhere, mingled with the
constant click of shuffled dominoes and the shouts of the rushing
waiters calling their orders. The Red Ass always awakens from its
lethargy at midnight, just as do the Cafe Americain and the showy
establishments on the Boulevard des Italiens.
The short, middle-aged Frenchman who had been speaking pulled a blue
paper from his pocket, and gave it to Wolf for examination. From its
folding and size I perceived that it was a telegram. All this time the
attitude of the Italian was that of a man who wished to affect an air of
supreme carelessness.
More bocks were ordered, pen and paper were brought by the waiter, and a
reply to the telegraphic message was written by the Frenchman, not,
however, without some discussion, in which Bertini took part. The
actions of these men showed that some further conspiracy was in
progress, but what it was I was naturally unable to guess. I only knew
that the two men whom I had followed were the most desperate, ingenious,
and unscrupulous spies in Europe.
After nearly an hour, during which time I exhausted all the periodical
literature provided by the management of the establishment, all four
rose and went out. The two Frenchmen made their adieux, and the pair
whose movements had so interested me walked slowly down to the Place de
l'Opera until they gained the narrow Rue des Petits Champs, a
thoroughfare that intersects the Rue de la Paix and the Avenue de
l'Opera. At the end of this, not far from the Palais Royal, they turned
suddenly into a dark alley, which led into a large courtyard, in which I
soon discovered a small, fifth-rate hotel, evidently their temporary
quarters.
I waited in the vicinity for nearly half an hour, until the concierge
put out the lights and bolted the door; then I returned to the avenue,
hailed a fiacre, and drove home just as the clocks were chiming three.
My vigil had been a long and tedious one, and when I entered my rooms I
sank into a chair utterly worn out. I had, however, learnt several
facts of supreme interest, not the least being the discovery of Wolf's
headquarters. I got my man to ring up Kaye on the telephone, and
presently gave him the information, suggesting that he should send one
of his assistants to the Rue des Petits Champs to keep the spies under
observation.
My statement filled him with feverish activity, for within half an hour
he was seated with me in my room, and I was explaining all that had come
to pass.
"Excellent!" he exclaimed. "They will not evade us now we know where
they are. There is something fresh in the wind, without a doubt. We
must discover what it is."
Then he went to the telephone, rang up one of his assistants who lived
out at Passy, and gave him some instructions, together with the address
of the obscure hotel to which I had followed the pair of rogues.
Far into the night we sat discussing the situation. As far as he knew,
the Ceuta negotiations were at a standstill. All that was known in
Madrid was that the Spanish Government had offered to sell that
strategic position to France, and that the latter had accepted. Beyond
this we had no further information, save that a complete tracing of the
plans for the fortification of the place, which had been prepared in the
French War Office, had found its way into our Embassy, where, as may be
imagined, it had a cordial welcome. It had been purchased by Kaye from
one of the draughtsmen, and showed plainly with what thoroughness it was
proposed to fortify the place in opposition to our defences at
Gibraltar. With its usual ingenuity the French Government, through its
mouthpiece, the _Figaro_, had inspired an article alleging that Ceuta
was about to be bought by Russia, in order, of course, to create alarm
in England, where the periodical Russian bogey would at once be brought
forward. But to us at the Embassy, who knew the truth, the _Figaro_
article proved farcical reading.
During the past two or three days cipher telegraphie despatches had been
constantly exchanged between the Quai d'Orsay and the various European
embassies, and there had been many other signs of unusual diplomatic
activity on the part of the Republic.
At last the chief of the secret service drained his glass, and, rising,
left me to snatch a couple of hours' sleep before my next day's duties
at the Embassy.
When I arose next morning I had occasion to go to the small
writing-table in my sitting-room to obtain some note-paper, but was
surprised to find the contents of the drawer in great disorder, as
though they had been hastily overturned.
I called my man and questioned him, but he declared he knew nothing of
it and that no one had entered my room. I frequently left the key in
the drawer, as I had done when last I unlocked it. Whoever had searched
that drawer had evidently looked for some private papers. I at once
hastily set to work to rearrange them and find out whether any were
missing.
Before five minutes had passed the truth became plain. A sealed
envelope, in which I had placed the letter the Princess had written me
offering her secret in exchange for my love, had been stolen. In an
instant it flashed upon me that I had spoken of it to her as being
destroyed. But it had now passed into the hands of our enemies!
Dark and mysterious are the ways of modern diplomacy as practised in the
capitals of Europe, but this dastardly theft was not far from being the
most daring and mysterious of any I had known.
Carefully I examined each of the papers. As far as I could discover,
the only one missing was the letter of the Princess. Who could have
stolen it? The only stranger who had entered the room was Edith, and I
remembered that on the previous afternoon she had waited there alone
before my arrival.
It was a strange thought, but it impressed itself upon me as a key to
the truth. Surely she had not visited me for the sole purpose of
stealing the letter which Leonie had sent to my room on that
well-remembered night at Chantoiseau? I could not believe her capable
of such duplicity, unless perchance it were prompted by jealousy. She
might have heard of our acquaintance through one or other of those
spies, her associates, and forthwith resolved on revenge. In any case
the loss of the letter placed the Princess in an exceedingly serious
position, and compromised her honour.
When I entered my room at the Embassy I found Lord Barmouth and Sibyl
together. She was persuading him to allow her to accept an invitation
to visit some relatives in the north of England, for she was tired of
Paris, she declared. When I entered he dismissed her, saying that he
wished to talk with me privately.
"Ingram, something extremely serious is in the wind," he said, when the
door had closed and we were alone. His face was pale and showed traces
of sleeplessness. "I was at de Wolkenstein's reception last night, and
overheard a conversation between Berchtold and de Hindenburg. There is
a conspiracy against us!"
"In what manner?" I asked, surprised that he should have become aware
of it.
"The intercepting of those secret instructions which you brought from
London some months ago is part of it; the Ceuta affair is another
portion; and it appears, as far as I can gather, that the Powers, with
the exception of Russia and Italy, have formed a gigantic plot against
us to provoke war."
"To provoke war!" I echoed. "What details do you know?"
"Olsoufieff, who, as you know, is my personal friend, dropped a hint
which we may take as a warning. He told me he had reason to believe
that the secret service of both France and Germany had of late made
several successful coups against us, and that the interests of those two
nations had been considerably promoted thereby."
"He told you nothing further?"
"He could not be more explicit," replied His Excellency. "Russia, who,
according to the Press, is our hereditary enemy, is in reality our
friend. If every monarch loved unity and concord as well as the Czar,
the peace of Europe would to-morrow be assured. Yet diplomatic usages
prevented Olsoufieff from betraying his confreres in their diplomacy,
even though he is my intimate friend."
"And how are we to act?" I asked. "The theft of the contents of that
despatch was certainly most astonishing. How it was accomplished is an
inscrutable mystery."
"Sibyl has been endeavouring to assist us," answered the Ambassador.
"She, too, was at the reception last night, and kept eyes and ears open.
She heard that both Wolf and that scoundrel Bertini are in Paris in
company. Surely that bodes no good!"
"I was watching the pair until nearly three o'clock this morning," I
explained. "At present Kaye has the matter in hand;" and then I
proceeded to explain all the occurrences of the previous night and those
that befell in the early hours of the morning. I told him of Edith, of
my visit to her at Ryburgh, of her call upon me, and of my subsequent
discovery of her at that low cafe near the station of Batignolles.
"Extraordinary!" he exclaimed in wonder, when I had finished. "Then
this woman who declared that she loved you is, although an English girl
living in a rural Norfolk village, actually a French spy? The
ramifications of the secret service of our enemies are indeed amazing.
The plot which has for its object the downfall of England is the most
gigantic and at the same time the most ingenious and carefully planned
of any known in modern history. Save for the little rift in the veil of
secrecy, through which we have fortunately detected the danger, it is
absolutely perfect."