Читать книгу Of Royal Blood - William Le Queux - Страница 6

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NEXT morning, determined to learn something further regarding the mystery of Gordon's wife, and either to confirm or to dispel my apprehensiveness, I devised an excuse, and going down to the Foreign Office, found him in his room, poring over some long formal document, which he instinctively covered with his blotting pad as the messenger ushered me in.

His greeting was cordial as usual, and presently when he had chatted a little time, he asked suddenly, "Well, Phil, and how do you like Judith?"

"She's altogether charming," I answered. "By Jove, old chap, I envy you. A menage like yours is a distinct improvement on the Albany, even though our Sunday evening concerts with little chorus-girls as performers were pleasant gathering—weren't they?"

"They were," he laughed. "Good Heavens! what a life we led in those days! But after you went, and I was alone, I fancy I must have settled down a bit."

"You have indeed settled down," I said. "For you have a wife to be proud of. She came from the Midlands somewhere, if I remember the announcement in the papers?"

"Yes. From a little place called Rockingham."

"She surely wasn't a village belle? She's far too refined for that."

"Hardly, old follow. She was born in London; but she lived a good deal on the Continent and afterwards with an aunt at Rockingham, for several years."

"And how did you come to know her?" I inquired, trying to conceal my anxiety and inquisitiveness.

"I was staying with some people at Ketton, in the vicinity, and we were introduced at a local flower-show held in the Castle grounds."

"And you fell in love with her?"

He nodded.

"Well," I said, "I don't wonder that you did. I'm sure I wish you both every happiness. Has she any brothers?"

"No," he answered. "She was left an orphan at ten, and her aunt, quite a cosmopolitan old lady, has ever since looked after her. Her father was a wealthy man, and when she came of age, three years before I married her, she inherited a very respectable fortune."

"Oh!" I exclaimed, surprised. "Then she had money?"

"Of course, my dear follow. You don't think that I could build and furnish a house like Holmwood on my salary? Heaven knows we who work at home get a paltry pittance enough. If the Government doubled our remuneration it wouldn't be adequate for the work we do. We are ill-paid, everyone of us—from the chief downwards. People think there are fat emoluments in our department, but we could very soon undeceive them."

"You're quite right," I sighed, for with us in the diplomatic service, as with those at home in Downing-street, there is always a perpetual grumbling regarding the cheeseparing policy of the Government. Many of the chief positions of trust are absurdly ill-paid. "However," I added, "you ought not to grumble, now that you are comfortably off. Look at me! The old governor left me twenty-five thousand when he died six years ago, and I'm nearly at an end of it already."

"Vienna cost you a lot, I suppose?"

"Dearest place in Europe," I answered. "I had to keep horses, and go the pace thoroughly. A fellow with only his salary can't live in Vienna. He'd be snubbed by everybody, and in three months life would be intolerable."

"And how about your new appointment?"

"Gay, but not quite so expensive," I responded. "I must lie low for a time, then things will be brighter with me. I can't go on at the pace I've been going."

"No," he said, a trifle coldly. "Take my tip, old man, and live a bit more economically. Your extravagance in Vienna was noticed."

I smiled. Had not Lord Macclesfield himself commended me for my work in Vienna? And had I not, in order to perform that mission—a secret one—been compelled to spend my own money recklessly to gain success? His lordship alone knew the reason of my extravagance, and had congratulated me upon my vigorous action.

We gossiped on for perhaps half an hour, then strolled along to the Ship, that small restaurant a few doors from Charing Cross, where so many Foreign Office men take their lunch. There we ate our mid-day chop together, and then, having satisfied myself upon one or two points regarding his wife, we parted.

What he had told me did not allay my fears. The facts that she was an orphan, that she had lived with an aunt in an unknown country village, and that she had inherited money were all suspicious. No, I could not rid myself of a most uncomfortable feeling, a kind of presage of some coming evil. That look of triumph and hatred in her blue eyes was ever before me, haunting me night and day. She meant mischief.

Yes, now more than ever was I confident that she possessed the secret which I had foolishly thought none knew beside myself.

Next day I left London on a round of dutiful visits to various friends in the north, and as it was a particularly dry spring, I managed to get a good deal of enjoyment and plenty of outdoor exercise. To me, tired of the hot, dusty, evil-smelling streets of Constantinople, English rural life was an exceedingly pleasant change, and for nearly three weeks I made one of a particularly gay house party at Dedisham, Sir Henry Halsford's place beside the Arun, in Sussex. There were about fifteen guests, besides myself, and as many of them were young there was an unvarifying round of gaiety.

Among the men staying there one was a quiet fellow of middle age named Poynter—a relative of Lady Halsford's, to whom I took a particular fancy. We often walked or rode out together, and in the evening we would play billiards, or smoke and chat about the Continental capitals I knew. He was a man of leisure who had travelled constantly in Europe, as so many men do, for the purpose of obtaining a decent climate, spending each winter in Nice, spring at Florence, Aix or Biarritz, summer in Switzerland, and autumn in Scotland, until he had become, like myself, a thorough cosmopolitan.

One dry bright afternoon we had together walked over the hill to Dewestryde to make a call on some people, and were returning along the Slinfold road, past the quaint old windmill, which is a landmark in that part of rural Sussex, when, having passed through the quaint little hamlet of Rowhook, our conversation chanced to turn upon the political outlook in Europe.

"Things appear black," he said, as he strode on by my side, both of us heedless of the rain which had commenced to fall. "In every part of the world nations seem to show unfriendliness towards England."

"Quite so," I said, with a sigh. "A European war would surprise nobody."

"It is you diplomatic people whose duty it is to prevent war," he said with a smile.

"A good many very acute difficulties are yearly adjusted by our ambassadors and the public remain in ignorance. The papers, for instance, have never been able to show the public how active we have been of late at Constantinople. A dozen times within the last three months we've been on the verge of war with Russia over the eternal Eastern question."

"On the verge of war!" he exclaimed, surprised.

"Yes," I answered. "And had it not been for the tact and clever diplomacy of my chief, backed by Lord Macclesfield's firm policy at home, we might by this time have had Cossack sentries outside Buckingham Palace."

"Is it possible? Do you think that such a disaster might ever occur?" he inquired.

"Quite," I responded. "With others of my profession I share certain misgivings regarding our naval and military strength. France, Russia, and Germany are all three our possible enemies, and with such Powers against her England would have to strain every effort to preserve her own. How near we often are to hostilities with the Powers jealous of our position as rulers of the world, only we at the Embassies know. Our country may thank itself that at this moment its Ambassadors are, without exception, calm, level-headed men who carry out to the letter the instructions of their Chief. The Opposition press, and those irresponsible journalistic curs whose bark is more furious than their bite, may rail at us whenever one of the other Powers has seemingly got the better of us, but they never pause to consider whether discretion is not oft-times the better part of valour; or whether to conciliate is not better than to provoke a costly and bloody war."

"Quite true," Poynter said. "The papers are far too fond of making political capital out of our complications abroad. They no doubt form easy subjects for what are journalistically known, I believe, as 'second leaders.' I remember," he went on, "when I was in Vienna a couple of years ago how strained were our political relations with Russia."

"Two years ago?" I said. "Why, I was there at that time."

"Then you remember, of course, how the machinations of Russia against Austria were suddenly exposed by the publication in the press of reports made by a secret agent. It was said that this exposure was brought about by someone in the British Embassy, who, at the risk of his life, tracked down the spy, and succeeded in getting from him certain plans of the frontier fortresses which he had prepared, together with some documents stolen from the archives of the Embassy. Was that true?"

I held my breath, glancing at him furtively. We were skirting Furnace Wood, a dark, gloomy place, and the rain was now falling so heavily that I was nearly wet through.

"I do not know the exact truth," I stammered, after a moment's hesitation.

"Well," he said, "if the exposure was due to anybody in the Embassy he ought to have been well rewarded, for it threw a side-light on the byways of Russian diplomacy which not only aroused indignation all over Europe, but thwarted a plan which would have undoubtedly resulted in war, if it had been successful.

"Yes," I answered. "I remember the published facts quite well. We were then actually on the verge of hostilities. As we say at the Embassies, the Chief always sits on the edge of a volcano. He never knows when the eruption is to take place, but must always be on the alert and in readiness to combat any conspiracy against British prestige and power."

"We ought to be thankful, indeed," my companion said, "that we have so many excellent and talented men looking after our interests abroad, for it would, indeed, be a sorry day for England if war ever broke out."

"Yes," I said, "the jingoes would certainly receive a heavy blow," and then in silence we both plodded on along the wet road, the mud splashing with each stop until, in the growing gloom, we saw the old ivy-covered house through the budding trees.

How strange it was, I reflected, that this stroke of diplomacy I had myself effected unaided was remembered, even in this later rush of exciting events. Until that evening at Richmond when I had dined with Gordon and his wife, I had confidently hoped that it was all forgotten. Yet this man with whom I had come in contact quite by accident remembered every detail of that action which I was always aiming to forget.

He had said that I deserved a rich reward for laying bare a base conspiracy against England's honour. What, I wondered, would he say if he knew the ghastly truth? My reward had been promotion to Constantinople, and now nearer home to a secret and responsible mission in the Belgian capital. True, I had strained every nerve in that long-past affair, and had been successful where all others had failed. Yet at what terrible cost had that vile plot been unmasked.

I had saved the honour of England at the cost of my own! That woman who was my friend's wife alone know the truth.

But I had little time then for reflection, for we were soon indoors, and after changing I was compelled to join the ladies for tea in the old-fashioned low-ceilinged drawing-room, where the wood fire burned brightly, throwing out a welcome flickering light which danced upon the teacups and the service of shining silver, and where the gossip was light and the laughter merry. Lady Halsford was a brilliant and tactful hostess, and was always able to gather about her a happy party in winter. When I had first been appointed abroad I at first missed the shooting and fishing which I had so much enjoyed at country houses, but now after a few years I fear I had grown to be so much of a foreigner that I preferred a warm drawing-room and feminine chatter to tramping over fields after game. The elegant foreigner looks askance at the Englishman's zeal for sport, and is quite content to cycle on public roads attired in wonderful suits and sweaters, for the admiration of his fellows. Beyond that he has no further desire to distinguish himself. If he hunts or shoots it is not because he likes it, but because he considers it correct form. The educated foreigner always apes the Englishman.

Many pleasant chats I had with Poynter during the week I still remained at Dedisham, and as he announced his intention of coming to Brussells for a month or so in spring I expressed a hope to meet him there. On leaving Sussex I first returned for a few days to Warwick Gardens, then went north to grey old Lancaster, and afterwards spent a few days with my brother Frank, whose regiment, the 7th Hussars, was stationed at York, my leave, however, being cut short by the receipt of a formal letter from the Chief's private secretary asking me to call at the Foreign Office on the following day. Therefore I left, and the next day at noon once more ascended the grand staircase which led to the great statesman's private room.