"Of course, if it is really necessary, I will go. But I fear I may
fail."
"Not if you are determined to succeed," he assured her. "You have good
looks, and they go such a very long way. That is why a pretty woman is
so successful as a secret agent."
She flushed slightly at his flattery.
"Well, and what am I to do? What information do you require?" she
asked, speaking almost mechanically and gazing fixedly across the room.
"The facts, simply told, are these," he said, tossing his cigarette into
the ash-tray and halting before her. "This Mrs Fitzroy is the wife of
a Mr Charles Fitzroy, a London fur merchant, and Alderman of the City,
and sister to a man named Morgan-Mason, a member of the English House of
Commons. This man you must watch. Recollect his name. Although he is
a bachelor and lives in an apartment in Westminster, he spends much of
his time at his sister's house; hence you will have an opportunity of
forming his acquaintance and keeping observation upon his movements. He
is clever, crafty, and quite unscrupulous, therefore be cautious in all
your movements. You must try and seize an opportunity to get a glimpse
through his private papers if possible, and see if there are any
documents in Italian of an unusual character."
"Then you suspect him to be an enemy of Italy?" she remarked seriously.
"We suspect that this blatant, pompous orator, who is now gathering such
a following in the House of Commons, is forming certain plans to
undermine our strength, to turn English opinion against an Italian
alliance. Therefore it is necessary that we should be in possession of
all the details, and you alone can obtain knowledge of the truth. He
does not know Italian, a fact which gives you distinct advantage. Watch
him very carefully, and report each week to Genoa; while, on my part, if
I have any important instructions to send, I shall address the letter to
the Poste Restante at Charing Cross--which is opposite the railway
station. Your aim must be to find out all you can; to discover with
whom this man is in association in Italy, remembering that whatever
secret information, or more especially any documentary evidence you can
secure, will be of the utmost service to us. Go, my dear signorina," he
added, placing his hand upon her shoulder, "go to London, and carry with
you my very best wishes for success."
The woman sat silent, thinking over his instructions, while through the
open window on the evening air came the strains of military music.
And as he watched her his thin, sallow face slowly relaxed into a
sinister smile, when he reflected within himself the real reason why he
was sending the pretty spy to England.