Part 14 (2/2)

As soon as I heard of his return I went to his room, and recounted my strange adventure with the dark-haired young woman in black. He became keenly interested, and the more so when I told him of her secret knowledge of the Kaiser's intended establishment of a bogus _entente_ with Great Britain.

”She wishes to see you,” I said. ”And she told me to give you her photograph.”

I handed it to him.

At sight of it his face instantly changed. He held his breath, and then examined the photograph beneath the light. Afterwards I noticed a strange, hard look at the corners of his mouth, while his teeth set themselves firmly.

Next second, however, he had recovered his self-possession, and with a low laugh said:

”Yes. Of course, I know her. She wants me to write to Julie de Rouville at the Post Restante at Ma.r.s.eilles, eh? H'm--I'll think it over.”

And I could see that sight of the photograph had not only displeased him, but it also caused him very considerable uneasiness.

Late in the afternoon, two days later, His Highness, who had been walking alone, and who had apparently evaded the vigilance of the ever-watchful Eckardt, returned to the Villa with a stranger, a tall, rather thin, fair-haired man, undoubtedly a German, and the pair were closeted together, holding counsel evidently for a considerable time.

Where His Highness met him I knew not, but when later on I entered the room I saw that the pair were on quite friendly terms.

His Highness addressed him as Herr Schafer, and when he had left he told me that he was from the Wilhelmstra.s.se, and had been attached to the Emba.s.sy at Was.h.i.+ngton, and afterwards in London, ”for affairs of the Press”--which meant that he was conductor of the German Press propaganda.

It seemed curious that the young man Schafer should be in such high favour with the Crown-Prince.

I watched closely. Whatever was in progress was a strict secret between the pair. The more I saw of Hans Schafer the more I disliked him. He had cruel eyes and heavy, sensuous lips--a coa.r.s.e countenance which was the reverse of prepossessing, though I could see that he was a very clever and cunning person.

For a full fortnight the Crown-Prince and the man Schafer were almost inseparable. Was it for the purpose of meeting Schafer that we had gone to Nice? The man had been back from London about two months, and had, I learnt, been lately living in Paris.

One evening while strolling in the sunset by the sea along the tree-lined Promenade des Anglais, I suddenly encountered Julie de Rouville, dressed in mourning, a quiet, pathetic figure, just as we had last met.

I instantly recollected that since the evening when I had given her photograph to the Crown-Prince he had never mentioned her, and I could only believe that for some mysterious reason sight of the picture had recalled some distasteful memory.

”Ah, Count!” she cried, as I halted and raised my hat. ”This is, indeed, a welcome meeting! I have been looking out for you for the past two days.”

”I've been staying over at Cannes,” was my reply. ”Well?”

She indicated a seat, and upon it we sat together.

”I have to thank you for giving my photograph and message to His Highness,” she said in that sweet, refined voice that I so well remembered.

”I trust that the Crown-Prince has written to you--eh?”

She smiled, a trifle sadly I thought.

”Well, no----” was her rather vague reply.

”Then how are you aware that I gave your message?”

She shook her head and again smiled.

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