“It is my opinion,” Captain Fielder pronounced, “that these demands are couched with the sole idea of inciting Russia’s intervention. There is already a report that Servia has appealed to St. Petersburg. It is quite certain that Russia, as the protector of the Slav nations, can never allow Servia to be humbled to this extent.”
“Even then,” Mr. Selingman protested good-humouredly, “Austria is not Germany.”
“There are very few people,” Captain Fielder continued, “who do not realise that Austria is acting exactly as she is bidden by Germany. To-morrow you will find that Russia has intervened. If Vienna disregards her, there will be mobilisation along the frontiers. It is my private and very firm impression that Germany is mobilising to-day, and secretly.”
Mr. Selingman laughed good-humouredly.
“Well, well,” he said, “let us hope it is not quite so bad as that.”
“You are frightening me, Captain Fielder,” Mrs. Barlow declared. “I am going to take you off to play bridge.”
They left the room. Selingman looked after them a little curiously.
“Your military friend,” he remarked, “is rather a pessimist.”
“Well, we haven’t many of them,” Norgate replied. “Nine people out of ten believe that a war is about as likely to come as an earthquake.”
Selingman glanced towards the closed door.
“Supposing,” he said, dropping his voice a little, “supposing I were to tell you, young man, that I entirely agreed with your friend? Supposing I were to tell you that, possibly by accident, he has stumbled upon the exact truth? What would you say then?”
Norgate shrugged his shoulders.
“Well,” he observed, “we’ve agreed, haven’t we, that a little lesson would be good for England? It might as well come now as at any other time.”
“It will not come yet,” Mr. Selingman went on, “but I will tell you what is going to happen.”
His voice had fallen almost to a whisper, his manner had become portentous.
“Within a week or two,” he said, “Germany and Austria will have declared war upon Russia and Servia and France. Italy will join the allies—that you yourself know. As for England, her time has not come yet. We shall keep her neutral. All the recent information which we have collected makes it clear that she is not in a position to fight, even if she wished to. Nevertheless, to make a certainty of it, we shall offer her great inducements. We shall be ready to deal with her when Calais, Ostend, Boulogne, and Havre are held by our armies. Now listen, do you flinch?”
The two men were still standing in the middle of the room. Selingman’s brows were lowered, his eyes were keen and hard-set. He had gripped Norgate by the left shoulder and held him with his face to the light.
“Speak up,” he insisted. “It is now or never, if you mean to go through with this. You’re not funking it, eh?”
“Not in the least,” Norgate declared.
For the space of almost thirty seconds Selingman did not remove his gaze. All the time his hand was like a vice upon Norgate’s shoulder.
“Very well,” he said at last, “you represent rather a gamble on my part, but I am not afraid of the throw. Come back to our bridge now. It was just a moment’s impulse—I saw something in your face. You realise, I suppose—but there, I won’t threaten you. Come back and we’ll drink a mixed vermouth together. The next few days are going to be rather a strain.”
CHAPTER XXXIV
Table of Contents
Norgate’s expression was almost one of stupefaction. He looked at the slim young man who had entered his sitting-room a little diffidently and for a moment he was speechless.
“Well, I’m hanged!” he murmured at last. “Hardy, you astonish me!”
“The clothes are a perfect fit, sir,” the man observed, “and I think that we are exactly the same height.”
Norgate took a cigarette from an open box, tapped it against the table and lit it. He was fascinated, however, by the appearance of the man who stood respectfully in the background.
“Talk about clothes making the man!” he exclaimed. “Why, Hardy, do you realise your possibilities? You could go into my club and dine, order jewels from my jeweller. I am not at all sure that you couldn’t take my place at a dinner-party.”
The man smiled deprecatingly.
“Not quite that, I am sure, sir. If I may be allowed to say so, though, when you were good enough to give me the blue serge suit a short time ago, and a few of your old straw hats, two or three gentlemen stopped me under the impression that I was you. I should not have mentioned it, sir, but for the present circumstances.”
“And no wonder!” Norgate declared. “If this weren’t really a serious affair, Hardy, I should be inclined to make a little humorous use of you. That isn’t what I want now, though. Listen. Put on one of my black overcoats and a silk hat, get the man to call you a taxi up to the door, and drive to Smith’s Hotel. You will enquire for the suite of the Baroness von Haase. The Baroness will allow you to remain in her rooms for half an hour. At the end of that time you will return here, change your clothes, and await any further orders.”
“Very good, sir,” the man replied.
“Help yourself to cigarettes,” Norgate invited, passing the box across. “Do the thing properly. Sit well back in the taxicab, although I’m hanged if I think that my friend Boko stands an earthly. Plenty of money in your pocket?”
“Plenty, thank you, sir.”
The man left the room, and Norgate, after a brief delay, followed his example. A glance up and down the courtyard convinced him that Boko had disappeared. He jumped into a taxi, gave an address in Belgrave Square, and within a quarter of an hour was ushered into the presence of Mr. Spencer Wyatt, who was seated at a writing-table covered with papers.
“Mr. Norgate, isn’t it?” the latter remarked briskly. “I had Mr. Hebblethwaite’s note, and I am very pleased to give you five minutes. Sit down, won’t you, and fire away.”
“Did Mr. Hebblethwaite give you any idea as to what I wanted?” Norgate asked.
“Better read his note,” the other replied, pushing it across the table with a little smile.
Norgate took it up and read:—
“My dear Spencer Wyatt,
“A young friend of mine, Francis Norgate, who has been in the Diplomatic Service for some years and is home just now from Berlin under circumstances which you may remember, has asked me to give him a line of introduction to you which will secure him an interview during to-day. Here is that line. Norgate is a young man for whom I have a great friendship. I consider him possessed of unusual intelligence and many delightful gifts, but, like many others of us, he is a crank. You can listen with interest to anything he may have to say to you, unless he speaks of Germany. That’s his weak point. On any other subject he is as sane as the best of us.
“Many thanks. Certainly I am coming to the Review. We are all looking forward to it immensely.
“Ever yours,
“JOHN W. HEBBLETHWAITE.”
Norgate set down the letter.
“There are two points of view, Mr. Spencer Wyatt,” he said, “as to Germany. Mr. Hebblethwaite believes that I am an alarmist. I know that I am not. This isn’t any ordinary visit of mine. I have come to see you on the most urgent matter which any one could possibly conceive. I have come to give you the chance to save our country from the worst disaster that has ever befallen her.”
Mr. Spencer Wyatt looked at his visitor steadily. His eyebrows had drawn a little closer together. He remained silent, however.
“I talk about the things I know of,” Norgate continued. “By chance I have been associated during the last few weeks with the head of the German spies who infest this country. I have joined his ranks; I have become a double traitor. I do his work, but every report I hand in is a false one.”
“Do you realise quite what you are saying, Mr. Norgate?”
“Realise it?” Norgate repeated. “My God! Do you think I come he
re to say these things to you for dramatic effect, or from a sense of humour, or as a lunatic? Every word I shall say to you is the truth. At the present moment there isn’t a soul who seriously believes that England is going to be drawn into what the papers describe as a little eastern trouble. I want to tell you that that little eastern trouble has been brought about simply with the idea of provoking a European war. Germany is ready to strike at last, and this is her moment. Not a fortnight ago I sat opposite the boy Henriote in a cafe in Soho. My German friend handed him the money to get back to his country and to buy bombs. It’s all part of the plot. Austria’s insane demands are part of the plot; they are meant to drag Russia in. Russia must protest; she must mobilise. Germany is secretly mobilising at this moment. She will declare war against Russia, strike at France through Belgium. She will appeal to us for our neutrality.”
“These are wonderful things you are saying, Mr. Norgate!”
“I am telling you the simple truth,” Norgate went on, “and the history of our country doesn’t hold anything more serious or more wonderful. Shall I come straight to the point? I promised to reach it within five minutes.”
“Take your own time,” the other replied. “My work is unimportant enough by the side of the things you speak of. You honestly believe that Germany is provoking a war against Russia and France?”
“I know it,” Norgate went on. “She believes—Germany believes—that Italy will come in. She also believes, from false information that she has gathered in this country, that under no circumstances will England fight. It isn’t about that I came to you. We’ve become a slothful, slack, pleasure-loving people, but I still believe that when the time comes we shall fight. The only thing is that we shall be taken at a big disadvantage. We shall be open to a raid upon our fleet. Do you know that the entire German navy is at Kiel?”
Mr. Wyatt nodded. “Manoeuvres,” he murmured.
“Their manoeuvre,” Norgate continued earnestly, “is to strike one great blow at our scattered forces. Mr. Spencer Wyatt, I have come here to warn you. I don’t understand the workings of your department. I don’t know to whom you are responsible for any step you might take. But I have come to warn you that possibly within a few days, probably within a week, certainly within a fortnight, England will be at war.”
Mr. Wyatt glanced down at Hebblethwaite’s letter.
“You are rather taking my breath away, Mr. Norgate!”
“I can’t help it, sir,” Norgate said simply. “I know that what I am telling you must sound like a fairy tale. I beg you to take it from me as the truth.”
“But,” Mr. Spencer Wyatt remarked, “if you have come into all this information, Mr. Norgate, why didn’t you go to your friend Hebblethwaite? Why haven’t you communicated with the police and given this German spy of yours into charge?”
“I have been to Hebblethwaite, and I have been to Scotland Yard,” Norgate told him firmly, “and all that I have got for my pains has been a snub. They won’t believe in German spies. Mr. Wyatt, you are a man of a little different temperament and calibre from those others. I tell you that all of them in the Cabinet have their heads thrust deep down into the sand. They won’t listen to me. They wouldn’t believe a word of what I am saying to you, but it’s true.”
Mr. Spencer Wyatt leaned back in his chair. He had folded his arms. He was looking over the top of his desk across the room. His eyebrows were knitted, his thoughts had wandered away. For several moments there was silence. Then at last he rose to his feet, unlocked the safe which stood by his side, and took out a solid chart dotted in many places with little flags, each one of which bore the name of a ship. He looked at it attentively.
“That’s the position of every ship we own, at six o’clock this evening,” he pointed out. “It’s true we are scattered. We are purposely scattered because of the Review. On Monday morning I go down to the Admiralty, and I give the word. Every ship you see represented by those little flags, moves in one direction.”
“In other words,” Norgate remarked, “it is a mobilisation.”
“Exactly!”
Norgate leaned forward in his chair.
“You’re coming to what I want to suggest,” he proceeded. “Listen. You can do it, if you like. Go down to the Admiralty to-night. Give that order. Set the wireless going. Mobilise the fleet to-night.”
Mr. Wyatt looked steadfastly at his companion. His fingers were restlessly stroking his chin, his eyes seemed to be looking through his visitor.
“But it would be a week too soon,” he muttered.
“Risk it,” Norgate begged. “You have always the Review to fall back upon. The mobilisation, to be effective, should be unexpected. Mobilise to-morrow. I am telling you the truth, sir, and you’ll know it before many days are passed. Even if I have got hold of a mare’s nest, you know there’s trouble brewing. England will be in none the worse position to intervene for peace, if her fleet is ready to strike.”
Mr. Spencer Wyatt rose to his feet. He seemed somehow an altered man.
“Look here,” he announced gravely, “I am going for the gamble. If I have been misled, there will probably be an end of my career. I tell you frankly, I believe in you. I believe in the truth of the things you talk about. I risked everything, only a few weeks ago, on my belief. I’ll risk my whole career now. Keep your mouth shut; don’t say a word. Until to-morrow you will be the only man in England who knows it. I am going to mobilise the fleet to-night. Shake hands, Mr. Norgate. You’re either the best friend or the worst foe I’ve ever had. My coat and hat,” he ordered the servant who answered his summons. “Tell your mistress, if she enquires, that I have gone down to the Admiralty on special business.”
CHAPTER XXXV
Table of Contents
Anna passed her hand through Norgate’s arm and led him forcibly away from the shop window before which they had been standing.
“My mind is absolutely made up,” she declared firmly. “I adore shopping, I love Bond Street, and I rather like you, but I will have no more trifles, as you call them. If you do not obey, I shall gaze into the next tobacconist’s window we pass, and go in and buy you all sorts of unsmokable and unusable things. And, oh, dear, here is the Count! I feel like a child who has played truant from school. What will he do to me, Francis?”
“Don’t worry, dear,” Norgate laughed. “We’re coming to the end of this tutelage, you know.”
Count Lanyoki, who had stopped his motor-car, came across the street towards them. He was, as usual, irreproachably attired. He wore white gaiters, patent shoes, and a grey, tall hat. His black hair, a little thin at the forehead, was brushed smoothly back. His moustache, also black but streaked with grey, was twisted upwards. He had, as always, the air of having just left the hands of his valet.
“Dear Baroness,” he exclaimed, as he accosted her, “London has been searched for you! At the Embassy my staff are reduced to despair. Telephones, notes, telegrams, and personal calls have been in vain. Since lunch-time yesterday it seemed to us that you must have found some other sphere in which to dwell.”
“Perhaps I have,” Anna laughed. “I am so sorry to have given you all this trouble, but yesterday—well, let me introduce, if I may, my husband, Mr. Francis Norgate. We were married by special license yesterday afternoon.”
The Count’s amazement was obvious. Diplomatist though he was, it was several seconds before he could collect himself and rise to the situation. He broke off at last, however, in the midst of a string of interjections and realised his duties.
“My dear Baroness,” he said, “my dear lady, let me wish you every happiness. And you, sir,” he added, turning to Norgate, “you must have, without a doubt, my most hearty congratulations. There! That is said. And now to more serious matters. Baroness, have you not always considered yourself the ward of the Emperor?”
She nodded.
“His Majesty has been very kind to me,” she admitted. “At the same time, I feel that I owe more to myself than I do to him. His
first essay at interfering in my affairs was scarcely a happy one, was it?”
“Perhaps not,” the Count replied. “And yet, think what you have done! You have married an Englishman!”
“I thought English people were quite popular in Vienna,” Anna reminded him.
The Count hesitated. “That,” he declared, “is scarcely the question. What troubles me most is that forty-eight hours ago I brought you a dispatch from the Emperor.”
“You brought,” Anna pointed out, “what really amounted to an order to return at once to Vienna. Well, you see, I have disobeyed it.”
They were standing at the corner of Clifford Street, and the Count, with a little gesture, led the way into the less crowded thoroughfare.
“Dear Baroness,” he continued, as they walked slowly along, “I am placed now in a most extraordinary position. The Emperor’s telegram was of serious import. It cannot be that you mean to disobey his summons?”
“Well, I really couldn’t put off being married, could I,” Anna protested, “especially when my husband had just got the special license. Besides, I do not wish to return to Vienna just now.”
The Count glanced at Norgate and appeared to deliberate for a moment.
“The state of affairs in the East,” he said, “is such that it is certainly wiser for every one just now to be within the borders of their own country.”
“You believe that things are serious?” Anna enquired. “You believe, then, that real trouble is at hand?”
“I fear so,” the Count acknowledged. “It appears to us that Servia has a secret understanding with Russia, or she would not have ventured upon such an attitude as she is now adopting towards us. If that be so, the possibilities of trouble are immense, almost boundless. That is why, Baroness, the Emperor has sent for you. That is why I think you should not hesitate to at once obey his summons.”
Anna looked up at her companion, her eyes wide open, a little smile parting her lips.
21 Greatest Spy Thrillers in One Premium Edition (Mystery & Espionage Series) Page 86
