That afternoon, at as early an hour as he decently could, he called at
the British Legation, the big white mansion in the centre of the town.
Both Sir Charles Harrison, the Minister, and his charming wife were
well-known to him, for more than once he had been invited to dine on
previous visits to Belgrade.
The Minister was out, but Lady Harrison received him in the big
drawing-room on the first floor, a handsome apartment filled with
exquisite Japanese furniture and bric-a-brac, for, prior to his
appointment to Belgrade, the Minister had been Secretary of the British
Embassy in Tokio.
The first greetings over, Charlie explained the object of his call.
Whereupon the Minister's wife replied:
"I think Mr Pashitch is mistaken, Mr Rolfe. I haven't seen Maud
Petrovitch for quite a year. She was on a visit to her aunt, Madame
Constantinovitch, about a year ago, and used to come here very often."
Charlie's hopes fell again.
"Perhaps the Minister-President has made a mistake. It may have been at
some other house Madame Pashitch met the Doctor's daughter," he said.
"Well, if she were in Belgrade she surely would come to see me. All her
friends come to me on Thursdays, as you know," replied the Minister's
wife, as the man brought in tea--with lemon--in the Russian style.
He glanced around the handsome room, and recollected the brilliant
receptions at which he had been present. The British Legation was one
of the finest mansions in Belgrade, and Sir Charles gave weekly dinners
to the diplomatic corps and his personal friends. He and his wife
entertained largely, to keep up the prestige of Great Britain amid that
seething area of intrigue, political conspiracy, and general unrest.
Within a small room off the drawing-room, which was Sir Charles' private
den, many a diplomatic secret had been brewed, and many an important
matter affecting the best interests of Servia had been decided. Surely
the post of Belgrade was one of the most difficult in the whole range of
British diplomacy abroad.
Before Charlie rose to go Sir Charles entered, a middle-aged, merry,
easy-going man, who greeted him cheerily, saying:--
"Hullo, Rolfe! Who'd have thought of seeing you here? and how is Mr
Statham? When will he buy us all up to-day?"
Rolfe briefly explained the nature of his mission to the ex-President,
and then, after a few minutes' chat, followed his host into the smaller
room for a cigarette and chat. Eventually Rolfe, lying back in an
easy-chair, said: "Do you know, Sir Charles, a very curious thing has
happened recently in London?"
"Oh, I see by the papers that lots of curious things have happened," was
the diplomat's reply, as he smiled upon his guest.
"Oh, yes; I know. But this is a serious matter. Doctor Petrovitch and
his daughter Maud have disappeared."
Sir Charles raised his eyebrows, and was in a moment serious.
"Disappeared! There's been nothing about it in the papers."
"No; it is being kept dark. The police haven't been stirred about it.
It was only a sudden removal from Cromwell Road, but both father,
daughter, and household furniture disappeared."
"How? In what manner did the furniture disappear?"
Rolfe explained, while Sir Charles sat listening open-mouthed.
"Extraordinary!" he ejaculated, when the younger man concluded. "What
can be the reason of it. Petrovitch is an old and dear friend of mine.
Why, I knew him years ago when I was attache here. He often wrote to
me. The last letter I had was from London about four months ago."
"And he's my friend also."
"Yes; I know," was the other's reply. "It was whispered, Rolfe, that
you were in love with the pretty Maud--eh?"
"I don't deny it?"
"Why should you, if you love her."
"But she's disappeared--without a word."
"And you are in search of her? Most natural. Well, I'll make inquiries
and ascertain if she's been in Belgrade. I don't believe she has, or we
should certainly have seen something of her. My wife is very fond of
her, you know."
"I fear there's been foul play?" Rolfe remarked.
The Minister shrugged his shoulders.
"It's curious, to say the least, isn't it?" he observed. There, in
confidence, Charlie told the Minister of Marion's friendship with Maud,
of the strange and mysterious confession on the night of the
disappearance, and her steadfast refusal to betray the girl's secret.
Sir Charles paused and reflected.
"Political intrigue is at the bottom of this--depend upon it, Rolfe," he
said at last. "Petrovitch has enemies here, unscrupulous enemies, who
would not hesitate to attempt his life. They fear that if he returns to
power as the King had invited him, they will find themselves prisoners
in the fortress--and that means death, as you know. When the Doctor
acts, he acts boldly for the benefit of his country. He would make a
clean sweep of his enemies once and for all."
"Then you think they've anticipated this, and killed him in secret?"
cried Rolfe.
"It is, I fear, quite possible," was the diplomat's reply.
"What causes you to believe this?"
"I possess secret knowledge."
"Of a plot against him?"
"He was fully aware of it himself. That is why he lived in England,"
the Minister replied.
"But, surely, if he knew this, he might have taken steps for his
self-protection!" Rolfe exclaimed. "The fact that his furniture was
spirited away to some unknown place makes it almost appear as though he
was in accord with the conspirators."
"No; I think not. The conspirators removed his furniture in order to
prevent undue inquiries as to the Doctor's disappearance. The emptying
of the house may have been one to make it appear to the police that the
Doctor had suddenly removed--perhaps to avoid his creditors."
Rolfe shook his head. His opinion hardly coincided with that of the
British diplomat. Besides, Max Barclay's story of having seen a man
there closely resembling him wanted explanation. With what motive had
an unknown man represented him on the night in question?
"Maud Petrovitch has never written to you?" asked Harrison.
"Not a line."
The Minister pursed his lips.
"Well," he said, "I'm perfectly sure if she's been in Belgrade she would
certainly have come to see us. My wife used to have frequent letters
from her in London."
"I have not told Lady Harrison the reason of my inquiry--or any of the
facts," Rolfe said. "I thought I would leave it to you to tell her if
you think proper. Up to the present, the Doctor's disappearance has
been kept secret between my friend Max Barclay, who was the Doctor's
most intimate chum in London, and myself."
"At present I shall not tell my wife," declared the diplomat. He was a
man of secrets, and knew how to keep one. "Who is Max Barclay?" asked
the Minister, after a pause. Rolfe explained, but said nothing
regarding his engagement to his sister Marion. To it all Sir Charles
listened attentively, without comment.
At last, after a long silence, he said:
"Well, look here, Rolfe. A sudden thought has occurred to me. I think
it possible that to-morrow, in a certain quarter, I shall be able to
make a confidential inquiry regarding the whereabouts of the Doctor.
All that you've told me interests me exceedingly, because I have all
along believed that very shortly Petrovitch was returning to power and
join forces with Pashitch."
"But didn't they quarrel a short time ago?" Rolfe remarked.
"Oh, a mere trifle. It was nothing. The Austrian press made a great
stir about it, as they always do. All news from Servia emanates from
the factory across the river yonder, at Semlin. If the journalists
dared to put foot on, Servian soil they'd soon find themselves under
arrest, I can tell you. No, the broad lines of policy of both
Petrovitch and Pashitch are identical. They intend to develop the
country by the introduction of foreign capital. The king himself told
me so at an audience I had a month ago. He then told me, in confidence,
that he had invited the Doctor to return and rejoin the Ministry. That
is why I firmly believe that the poor Doctor, one of the best and most
straightforward statesmen in Europe, has fallen a victim to his
enemies."
"Then you will set to work to discover what is known among the
Opposition?" urged the young man.
"I promise you I will. But, of course, in strictest confidence," was
the Minister's reply. "Petrovitch is my friend, as well as yours. I
know only too well of the bitter enmity towards him in some quarters,
especially among the partisans of the late king and a certain section of
the Opposition in the Skuptchina. Mention of his name there causes
cheers from the Government benches, but howls from the enemies of law
and order. There was, some three years ago, a dastardly plot against
his life, as you know."
"No, I don't know it. I have never heard about it," was Rolfe's reply.
"Ah! he never speaks about it, of course," Sir Charles said,
reflectively. "While driving out at Topschieder with his little orphan
niece, of whom he was very fond, a bomb was thrown at the carriage. The
poor child was blown to atoms, the horses were maimed, the carriage
smashed to matchwood, and the coachman so injure that he died within an
hour. The Doctor alone escaped with nothing more serious than a cut
across the cheek. But that terrible death of his dead sister's child
was a terrible blow to him, and he has not been since in Belgrade.
Because of that, I expect, he has hesitated to obey the king's command
to return to office."
"Awful! I never knew of that. Maud has never told me," said Rolfe.
"What blackguards to kill an innocent child! Was the man who threw the
bomb caught?"
"Yes. And the conspiracy was revealed by me activity of the secret
police. They made a report to the Minister of Justice, who showed it to
me in confidence."
"Then you actually know who threw the explosive?"
"I know also who was responsible for the dastardly conspiracy--who aided
and abetted it, and who furnished the assassins with money and promised
a big reward if they encompassed the Doctor's death!" said the Minister,
slowly and seriously.
"You do! Who?" cried Rolfe.
"It was someone well-known to you," was his reply. "The inquiries made
by the Servian secret police led them far afield from Belgrade. They
traced the conspiracy to its source--a source which would amaze you, as
it would stagger the world. And if I am not much mistaken, Rolfe, this
second plot has been formed and carried out by the same person whose
first plot failed!"
"A person I know?" gasped the young man.