The Great Secret

E >> E. Phillips Oppenheim >> The Great Secret

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I took up my hat.

"Madame," I said, "I am sorry that I came. I wish you good afternoon!"

I think that she had made up her mind, then, to waste no more time upon
me, for with a shrug of the shoulders she rose to her feet. She smoothed
her hair in front of the glass and patted her bow.

"I think, Herr Paul," she said, "that if it had not been for the little
girl in Frankfort, we might have arranged this--eh?"

I shook my head.

"Never!" I answered. "But if it had not been for her--"

"Well?"

"Madame knows," I answered, bowing over her bejewelled fingers. "Auf
wiedersehen!"

She let me go then, and glad enough I was to get away from the atmosphere
of cheap scent and Madame's stealthy advances. I realized, of course,
that the whole affair was a trap, bred of this woman's suspicions of me.
Nevertheless, I scarcely dared to hope that they were finally allayed. I
told Guest about my afternoon's adventure, and he treated it very
seriously indeed.

"She is one of the most dangerous women we could possibly have to deal
with," he told me. "I have known of her all my life. She was in Paris
twelve years ago, and she has twice brought Germany and France to the
brink of war. She trusts or mistrusts wholly by instinct, and I have
heard her boast that she is never mistaken. You have scored this time;
but she won't let you alone. She is a regular sleuth-hound."

"I am warned," I assured him. "I shall do all that I can to keep out of
her way."

I left a little before closing time that night, and made my way, by a
circuitous route, to my cousin's club. I was shown into the strangers'
room, and Gilbert came to me in a few moments. His face told me at once
that he had met with no success. He carefully closed the door, and came
over to my side of the room.

"Jim," he said, "it's horrible, but I've failed completely to
convince--our friend. I haven't even made the least impression upon him.
He listened to all that I had to say with a very polite smile, and every
now and then kept on taking out his watch. When I had finished, he
thanked me very much, but gave me clearly to understand that he
considered I had been made a fool of. I tried to persuade him to see you,
but he declined point-blank. Shall I tell you his message to you?"

I nodded.

"He sent his compliments, and begged you not to neglect your winter
practice. Said he had set his heart upon the county winning the
championship next season!"

"In plain words," I remarked bitterly, "he recommends me to mind my own
business."

Gilbert nodded silently. He was unfolding an evening paper.

"It is like trying to save a drowning man, who persists in clinging to
one's neck," I remarked. "Gilbert, I have had a German service-rifle
given me to-day, with a plain hint that I may expect to be using it
within a month. I even know which of the Tilbury forts I shall be
expected to share in taking."

My cousin nodded and opened out his paper.

"The Channel Squadron," he announced, "leaves Devonport for Kiel on
Thursday next. And here, in another part of the paper, is the little rift
in the lute, Listen!--

"'We understand that a slight difficulty has arisen with Germany as to
the proposed Morocco Commission. In view of the better understanding,
however, now existing between the two governments, a speedy agreement
is believed certain.'"

"We shall have an ultimatum," Gilbert declared grimly, "as soon as our
ships are safely anchored in Kiel harbor. Polloch may change his tone
then, but he will be a little too late. What can we do, Jim? Whom can we
appeal to?"

"Heaven only knows!" I answered. "If Adele succeeds in Paris, a hint may
come from there."

"It is a slender reed," Gilbert said, "for so mighty an issue to rest
upon."

I was thoughtful for a few moments.

"I have had proof within the last few hours," I said, "that I am under a
certain amount of suspicion, and it is very possible that I am watched.
Yet, after all, that is comparatively unimportant. Do you think that
Polloch would see me?"

"I am sure that he would not," Gilbert answered promptly. "In fact, I may
as well tell you at once, that he has set us down for a pair of cranks.
He dismissed me to-day almost peremptorily. And I have reason to know
that he has warned other members of the Cabinet against us. He told me
plainly that it was the policy of his government to conciliate Germany,
and he considered that a good deal of the ill-feeling in the past had
been due to the fact that we were always over-suspicious of Germany and
her actions. When I spoke of organized corps of waiters and clerks here,
300,000 of them, in commission, all of whom had had military training and
possessed rifles, he practically called me an ass."

"Gilbert," I said slowly, "we are up against an _impasse_. I shall go
back and consult with Guest. He is the most resourceful man I know. He
may be able to suggest something."

Gilbert did not attempt to detain me. We walked together across the hall
of the club, of which I, too, by the bye, was a member, and I was careful
to carry my hat in my hand. Just as we were reaching the porter's box, a
man in brilliant uniform, only partially concealed by a heavy military
cloak, pushed open the swing doors and entered the club. He passed us by
without a glance, but my heart was in my mouth.

"Gilbert," I whispered, "who was that?"

"Count Metterheim--he is on the military staff at the German Embassy.
Why?"

I looked around. Count Metterheim had passed into the smoking-room, and
there was no one else within ear-shot.

"He is also," I said, "on the committee of the No. 1 Branch of the
Waiters' Union. I have been up before him at the Cafe Suisse!"

CHAPTER XXXVI

AN URGENT WARNING

Madame came alone to luncheon the next morning, and beckoned me to her
table. "Well," she said, with her black eyes fixed steadily upon mine,
"you are of the same mind, eh?"

I bowed.

"I prefer to think," I said, "that you were joking yesterday."

"So!" she answered, and began to eat. I gathered that I was dismissed.
But presently she called me back again.

"You have many friends in London, Herr Paul?" she asked.

"None at all," I answered. "It is very lonely."

"I thought," she said, "that I saw you coming out of some flats in Dover
Street the other day."

Madame was a little over-anxious. She was showing her hand too openly.

I leaned over the table, after a cautious glance around.

"I will tell you," I said, "since you are so kind as to be interested. I
am looking for another situation. I think that I shall go into a private
family."

"Another situation?" she exclaimed. "You are not satisfied here?"

I shook my head.

"My uncle," I said, "is a very mean man. He does not like to pay both
Karl and myself--and he pays me very little. It is all promises!--and
meanwhile Elsie waits."

Madame laughed, not altogether pleasantly.

"Elsie is likely to wait," she said. "You are too scrupulous, Herr Paul.
I have shown you how to make a great deal of money."

"The money with which I marry Elsie," I answered, "shall not be blood
money."

She let me go then, and I went away well pleased. I fancied that I was
holding my own with Madame. And I had left the way clear for my next
visit, which was no small thing.

At half-past three the restaurant was almost empty. Very soon after four
I rang the bell of Lady Dennisford's town house in Park Lane. The man who
opened it stared at my request to see her Ladyship. Eventually, however,
I persuaded him to take in a message. I wrote a single word upon a plain
card, and in five minutes I was shown into a small boudoir.

Lady Dennisford entered the room almost at the same instant from an
opposite door. She was dressed in deep mourning; but it seemed to me that
something of the old weariness was gone from her face. She looked at me
searchingly, but obviously without recognition.

"I am Lady Dennisford," she said. "What is your business with me?"

I kept my eyes fixed upon her steadily.

"You do not recognize me, Lady Dennisford?" I asked.

She frowned slightly.

"Your voice is familiar," she answered, "and--why, you have a look of
Hardross Courage! Who are you?"

"I am Hardross Courage," I answered. "Please do not look at me as though
I were something uncanny. The report of my death was a little premature!"

She held out her hands.

"My dear Hardross!" she exclaimed. "You have taken my breath away!
I am delighted, of course; but"--she continued, looking at me
wonderingly--"what has happened to you? Where did you get those clothes?"

"I am going to explain everything to you, Lady Dennisford," I declared;
"but before I do so, let me ask you something! I have given you one
shock! Can you stand another?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"You see before you," I answered, "one dead man who has come to life. Can
you bear to hear of another?"

Then every shred of color left her cheeks, and she trembled like one
stricken with an ague. But all the time her eyes were pleading
passionately with mine, as though it lay in my power to make the thing
which she longed for true.

"Not--not Leslie! It is impossible."

"It is the truth," I answered. "He is alive."

I caught her just in time, and led her to the sofa. Her face was
bloodless, even to the lips.

"Lady Dennisford," I said earnestly, "for his sake, for mine, bear up.
Don't let me have to call for the servants. We are both in danger. Your
people will probably be questioned."

"I will be brave," she answered with quivering lips; "but what did it
mean--at Saxby then? Why, there was a funeral!"

"He was hard-pressed," I told her, "and it was the only way to save him.
Be brave, Lady Dennisford, for I have come to you for help!"

"I will do everything you ask me to," she answered. "But tell me one
thing more. He is alive!"

"He is in London," I answered. "He would have come himself, but the risk
would have been greater. Will you listen to what I have to say?"

"Go on," she answered. "I am ready."

"You know what happened to him in Berlin fifteen years ago," I began. "He
suffered for another's fault, but he suffered. His career was over, he
was left with but two objects in life. One was a desire to reinstate
himself; another, hatred for the country whose spies had brought ruin
upon him. He changed his identity, but he remained at Berlin. For years
he met with no success. Then fortune favored him. By chance he picked up
one of the threads of the most cunning, the most cruel, the most
skilfully thought-out plots against this country which the secret history
of the world had ever known. He escaped to London, but spies were already
on his track. I saved him from death once, and from that moment I, too,
was drawn into the vortex. Let me tell you exactly what has happened to
us since we joined forces."

Lady Dennisford was a good listener. I gave her, in as few words as
possible, a faithful account of our adventures, and she never once
interrupted me with a single question. When I had finished, she was
perfectly calm and self-possessed.

"It is the most wonderful story I have ever heard," she declared with
glowing eyes.

"The most wonderful part of it, from our point of view, is to come," I
answered grimly. "We have a fair amount of proof, and we have laid all
the facts before the Foreign Secretary and the Prime Minister."

"Well?"

"They absolutely refuse to believe us! Notwithstanding everything that we
have put before them, the Channel Squadron has sailed for Kiel."

Lady Dennisford was a woman born for emergencies. She made no remark. She
simply asked the one sensible question:

"What can I do?"

"Lord Esherville is your cousin, is he not?"

"Yes!"

"He is an influential member of the Cabinet. Will you go to him, tell him
what you know of us, tell him who Guest is and his history? Try and
convince him that we are not cranks, and that the country is really in
the deadliest peril. Get him to see Polloch at once. Both Guest and
myself are watched, because we have taken a cafe which is frequented by
these people, but we will arrange a meeting, somehow. Try and get us a
hearing."

She rose to her feet.

"When?"

"It must be within the next thirty-six hours," I answered, "or it will be
too late."

"Where shall I let you know?"

"Letters are not safe," I answered. "I will call here at eleven o'clock
to-morrow morning."

"You are not going," she exclaimed. "You will have some tea?"

I laughed outright.

"Please don't forget," I begged her, "that I have come about a situation.
I am going to bring my references to-morrow."

"Absurd," she murmured softly. "Is--Leslie--also a--what did you say you
were?--a waiter?"

"He is the proprietor of the Cafe Suisse in Old Compton Street," I
answered. "I am his nephew learning the business."

"May I come and lunch?" she asked.

"I think not," I answered, smiling. "Our restaurant does not cater for
such clients."

"Then how shall I let you know?" she asked.

"I will bring my references to-morrow," I answered--"at eleven o'clock."

I bought an evening paper on my way back to the Cafe Suisse. Of news here
was very little. A leading article commented, with what to me seemed
fatuous satisfaction, upon our improved foreign relations. Our _entente_
with France was now in a fair way to be supplemented by a better
understanding with Germany. Great things were hoped from the friendly
visit of our fleet to Kiel; such international courtesies made always for
good. And as I walked through the twilight with the paper clenched in my
hand, I forgot where I was, I seemed to see over the grey sea to where,
silently and secretly, the long service trains to Germany crawled to that
far northward point, disgorging all the while their endless stream of
soldiers, with mathematical regularity. The great plot moved. I read the
extracts from the Berlin and Frankfort papers, and I knew that the
wonderful example of the world's newest Power had been scrupulously
followed. No word was there of secret manoeuvres amidst the wastes of
those northern sands. I read the imposing list of battleships and
cruisers, now ploughing their stately way across the dark waters, and
I shuddered as I thought of the mine-sown track across which they would
return. I remembered what a great German statesman had once boldly
declared--"there is no treachery, if it be only on sufficiently great a
scale, which success does not justify." And here was I, almost the only
Englishman who knew the truth--powerless!

It was a busy night at the Cafe Suisse. Guest promenaded the room in his
tightly fitting frock coat, his grey wig, and newly grown imperial,
exchanging greetings with his clients in many languages. The long table
was full! Hartwell was there, and Hirsch, and Kauffman, Madame and the
others. And always I fancied that when I approached their table their
voices dropped a little, and covert glances followed me when I turned
away. Had Madame succeeded in making them suspicious, I wondered.

They went into the club-room as usual, and a quiet time followed in the
restaurant. I went to talk with Madame, but she had little to say to me.
Somehow, though, I could not move a yard without feeling that her eyes
were upon me. Once only she beckoned to me.

"Well," she asked, "have you found the place yet, where you will make so
much money that you can send for the beloved Elsie?"

I smiled deprecatingly.

"I have answered two advertisements," I said; "one at a club, but they
were no good. I am going to see a rich English lady to-morrow morning.
She may engage me as butler."

"You are a very foolish young man, Herr Paul," she said. "You do not know
how to look after yourself. You will never make any money!"

It was one o'clock the next morning before Guest and I turned homeward to
our rooms, for we had thought it well to separate, and I could tell him
what had passed between Lady Dennisford and myself. He heard me without
interruption, but I saw his face twitch with anxiety.

"It is almost the last chance," he muttered.

CHAPTER XXXVII

THE BLACK BAG

Lady Dennisford had failed. I saw it in her face as soon as I entered the
room, and her first few words confirmed it.

"It's no use, Jim," she declared. "I've done my best, but there isn't a
soul who will listen to me."

"Good God!" I murmured, and sat down on the sofa.

"There is not a single man in the Cabinet of the slightest influence,"
she continued, "who will take this affair seriously. Lord Esherville
assured me solemnly that the whole affair was absurd and impossible.
Polloch declares that we have been brought to the brink of war with
Germany twice already, through treating her overtures with too much
suspicion. He is absolutely determined that the mistake shall not be
repeated."

"How about the massing of troops on the French frontier?" I asked.

"Ordinary manoeuvres," Lady Dennisford said. "The whole proceeding is
absolutely open."

"And the reception of the Prince of Normandy by the Emperor?"

"An act of private courtesy. He ridicules the idea of German interference
in French politics."

"And the rifle union?"

"If he believes in it at all, he looks upon it simply as a social and
patriotic club, with which we have nothing to do. He ridicules the idea
of regarding it as a force that could be utilized, even in the event of
war."

"Then all three things happening together are merely coincidences?" I
said bitterly. "He is blind enough to believe that?"

"He believes it most sincerely," Lady Dennisford answered.

"He will not stop the fleet going to Kiel?"

"He almost lost his temper at the bare suggestion," Lady Dennisford
answered. "The slight hitch in the Morocco negotiations, he says, is
simply owing to a misunderstanding, which will be cleared up in a day or
two."

"Now I can understand," I said, "why, on the Continent, they always speak
of British diplomacy with their tongues in their cheeks. To think that
the destinies of a great country should be in the hands of men like this.
Why, what can our Secret Service be about?"

"I believe," Lady Dennisford said, "that they have lately been presenting
some disquieting reports. But it is all of no use. Every member of the
Cabinet has got his back up. Lord Polloch says that Germany's friendship
is absolutely necessary to us just now, and his Cabinet are determined to
secure it."

"They will," I muttered, "at a price. Lady Dennisford, you will excuse
me, I know. I must hurry back and see Guest."

"What is there left for you to do?"

"Heaven only knows!" I answered. "I am afraid we are at the end of our
tether. If Guest has yet another card up his sleeve, he has kept it
secret from me. I must see him at once."

"You will let me hear from you soon?" she begged as I departed.

"The newspapers may have more to tell you than I," I answered. "But I
will come again--about the situation!"

Guest was waiting for me in the little glass enclosure we called an
office. He saw my news written in my face.

"She has failed," he murmured.

"Utterly!" I answered.

We were both silent for a moment. The crisis of our fortunes had come,
and, for the first time, I saw Guest falter. He removed his spectacles
for a moment, and there was despair in his eyes.

"To think that we should have done so much--in vain," he muttered. "If
one could think of it, there must be a way out."

His head drooped for a moment, and, glancing up, I saw Hirsch's dark
inquisitive face watching us through the glass.

"Put on your spectacles and be careful," I whispered. "We are being
watched."

Guest was himself again in a moment. I stepped out into the restaurant,
where a few early luncheon guests were already arriving, and attended to
my duties as well as I could. Hirsch and his wife were at their usual
corner table, and they were presently joined by Marx, and two others of
the committee before whom I had appeared. They all carried newspapers,
and their conversation, though constant and animated, always languished
at my approach--a fact which somewhat alarmed me. Madame watched me
ceaselessly. I was perfectly certain once, when their heads were very
close together, that I was the subject of their conversation. As soon as
I realized this, I tried, without pointedly avoiding them, to keep out of
their way.

We were very full that morning, and every one seemed to linger a long
time over their luncheon. I was sick to death of the place, and my weary
peregrinations from table to table, of the smile I wore, and the small
jests and complaints I was forced to receive. The smell of the cooking
was like some loathsome poison in my nostrils. I felt that morning, with
the depression of despair upon my heart, that this was a fool's game
which I had been playing. And then my heart stood still, and my recently
developed powers of self-control received a severe shock. A familiar
little yap had given me the first warning, I turned sharply round towards
the door. Adele, followed by a small elderly gentleman with a red ribbon
in his buttonhole, had just entered.

I hastened towards them, and I addressed Adele without a flicker of
recognition in my face. I piloted them to a table a little apart, and
handed her the carte.

"We shall remain," she said calmly, and with the air of one giving an
order, "until the place is nearly empty. Come and talk to us as soon as
you can safely."

I bowed, and handed them over to the waiter whose duty it was to serve at
their table. As I passed down the room, I glanced towards the Hirsch
table. They had ceased their conversation. Every one of them was
staring at the newcomers. Soon they began to whisper together. Madame
beckoned to me.

"Do you know who they are, Herr Paul, those people who have just come
in?" she asked. "The little old gentleman, for instance! He is a
Frenchman, is he not?"

I shook my head.

"They are strangers, Madame," I told her. "The gentleman has not spoken
yet, but he wears a red ribbon in his coat."

Madame dismissed me with a little nod. I stood for a moment at a
neighboring table, and I heard Hirsch's low voice.

"If it is he," he muttered, "there is mischief brewing, but he has come
too late."

"If it is he," Madame murmured, "there is danger, there is always danger!
You remember--at Brussels--"

I could hear no more, and I dared not show my curiosity. Somewhat
abruptly, it seemed to me, the little party finished their luncheon and
departed. The place began to grow emptier, I took careful stock of the
few people that were left, and decided that the coast was clear. I
returned to Adele and her friend.

"Tell us both quickly," she said in a low tone, "exactly how things
stand. This gentleman is the head of the French secret police. He is here
to help, if it is possible."

"We have collected our material," I answered, "and placed it before the
government here. We are up against an _impasse_. Through different
sources we have approached several members of the Cabinet. The result has
been the same in every case. We are treated as madmen. Polloch will do
nothing. The fleet has sailed, the rifles remain in the alleys of Soho
and Heaven knows where. Not a single precautionary measure has been
taken."

"In a lesser degree," she said, "I, too, have failed. I have succeeded in
getting the royalist officers removed from the frontier army, but with
regard to the navy, they would do nothing. The French government declined
to believe that England might need assistance. We shall get no aid from
there."

The little old gentleman leaned over and addressed me.

"What is your next step?"

"We have none," I answered bluntly. "I have only spoken for a minute or
two with Guest since we heard of our last failure. Shall I fetch him?"

Adele nodded. I went for Guest, who was promenading the room with his
hands behind him, casting every now and then a sharp glance in our
direction.

"They wish to speak to you," said.

He nodded and walked by my side.

"Our friend," he said, "is admirably disguised, but I recognized him. It
is Monsieur Bardow, the cleverest man in France."

The two men exchanged bows and smiles. A waiter was standing near.

"I insist, Monsieur," Monsieur Bardow said, "that you and your nephew
here join me in a bottle of wine. We will drink luck to your new venture.
No! you must seat yourself, you and your nephew also!"

The farce was well kept up till the wine had been fetched and the waiter
dismissed. Then Monsieur Bardow, with the mild expression of one who is
still exchanging compliments, began to talk.

"Mr. Guest," he said, "I know you, and I think that you know me. We are
both up against a hard thing--officials, who won't believe what does
sound a little, perhaps, like a fairy story. I have succeeded a little,
you not at all. I consider that a disaster to England, however, would be
a disaster also to my country. I am here, therefore, to see if I can be
of service to you."

Adele leaned over towards us.

"Monsieur Bardow," she said, "has already been to his ambassador here!"

"And Monsieur Lestrange, who is good enough to have complete confidence
in me, went at once to Downing Street," Monsieur Bardow explained. "When
he returned he was angry!"

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