Part 57 (1/2)

”I think he feared on account of a political conspiracy which is known to have been formed against him. As you know, the Opposition are his bitter opponents.”

”And they are opponents of his Majesty also,” Rolfe remarked.

”Exactly--a fact which for the peace of Servia is most unfortunate.”

”Then you have no idea where I could find the Doctor?”

”Not the least. But--” and he paused, thinking for a moment.

”Well?”

”If I remember aright my wife told me that she had met his daughter Maud at dinner at the British Legation one night recently.”

”Then she's here--in Belgrade!” Rolfe cried.

”I'm not quite certain. I did not pay much attention to what she told me. I was preoccupied with other things. But I will ask her, and let you know. Or you might ask the wife of the British Minister. You know her, of course?”

”Yes,” Rolfe answered, excitedly. ”I will call upon her this afternoon.

I'm sure I'm very much indebted to your Excellency for this information.”

And his spirits rose again at the thought that his sweet-faced well-beloved was safe and well, and that, in all probability, she was actually in that city.

CHAPTER FORTY.

GIVES A CLUE.

That afternoon, at as early an hour as he decently could, he called at the British Legation, the big white mansion in the centre of the town.

Both Sir Charles Harrison, the Minister, and his charming wife were well-known to him, for more than once he had been invited to dine on previous visits to Belgrade.

The Minister was out, but Lady Harrison received him in the big drawing-room on the first floor, a handsome apartment filled with exquisite j.a.panese furniture and bric-a-brac, for, prior to his appointment to Belgrade, the Minister had been Secretary of the British Emba.s.sy in Tokio.

The first greetings over, Charlie explained the object of his call.

Whereupon the Minister's wife replied:

”I think Mr Pas.h.i.+tch is mistaken, Mr Rolfe. I haven't seen Maud Petrovitch for quite a year. She was on a visit to her aunt, Madame Constantinovitch, about a year ago, and used to come here very often.”

Charlie's hopes fell again.

”Perhaps the Minister-President has made a mistake. It may have been at some other house Madame Pas.h.i.+tch met the Doctor's daughter,” he said.

”Well, if she were in Belgrade she surely would come to see me. All her friends come to me on Thursdays, as you know,” replied the Minister's wife, as the man brought in tea--with lemon--in the Russian style.

He glanced around the handsome room, and recollected the brilliant receptions at which he had been present. The British Legation was one of the finest mansions in Belgrade, and Sir Charles gave weekly dinners to the diplomatic corps and his personal friends. He and his wife entertained largely, to keep up the prestige of Great Britain amid that seething area of intrigue, political conspiracy, and general unrest.

Within a small room off the drawing-room, which was Sir Charles' private den, many a diplomatic secret had been brewed, and many an important matter affecting the best interests of Servia had been decided. Surely the post of Belgrade was one of the most difficult in the whole range of British diplomacy abroad.

Before Charlie rose to go Sir Charles entered, a middle-aged, merry, easy-going man, who greeted him cheerily, saying:--

”Hullo, Rolfe! Who'd have thought of seeing you here? and how is Mr Statham? When will he buy us all up to-day?”