Part 12 (1/2)

”The cruel part is,” he said softly, ”that it should have come in my administration, when for ten years I have prayed from the Opposition benches for the one thing which would have made us safe to-day.”

”An army,” murmured Bellamy.

”The days are coming,” Sir James continued, ”when those who prated of militarism and the security of our island walls will see with their own eyes the ruin they have brought upon us. Secretly we are mobilizing all that we have to mobilize,” he added, with a little sigh. ”At the very best, however, our position is pitiful. Even if we are prepared to defend, I am afraid that we shall see things on the Continent in which we shall be driven to interfere, or else suffer the greatest blow which our prestige has ever known. If we could only tell what was coming!” he wound up, looking once more at those empty sheets of paper. ”It is this darkness which is so alarming!”

Bellamy turned toward the door.

”You have the telephone in your bedroom, sir?” he asked.

”Yes, ring me up at any time in the night or morning, if you have news.”

Bellamy drove at once to Dover Street. It was half-past one, but he had no fear of not being admitted. Louise's French maid answered the bell.

”Madame has not retired?” Bellamy inquired.

”But no, sir,” the woman a.s.sured him, with a welcoming smile. ”It is only a few minutes ago that she has returned.”

Bellamy was ushered at once into her room. She was gorgeous in blue satin and pearls. Her other maid was taking off her jewels. She dismissed both the women abruptly.

”I absolutely couldn't avoid a supper-party,” she said, holding out her hands. ”You expected that, of course. You were not at the Opera House?”

He shook his head, and walking to the door tried the handle. It was securely closed. He came back slowly to her side. Her eyes were questioning him fiercely.

”Well?” she exclaimed. ”Well?”

”Have you heard from Von Behrling?”

”No,” she answered. ”He knew that I must sing to-night. I have been expecting him to telephone every moment since I got home. You have seen him?”

”I have seen him,” Bellamy admitted. ”Either he has deceived us both, or the most unfortunate mistake in the world has happened.

Listen. I met him where he appointed. He was there, disguised, almost unrecognizable. He was nervous and desperate; he had the air of a man who has cut himself adrift from the world. I gave him the money,--twenty thousand pounds in Bank of England notes, Louise,--and he gave me the papers, or what we thought were the papers.

He told me that he was keeping a false duplicate upon him for a little time, in case he was seized, but that he was going to Liverpool Street station to wait, and would telephone you from the hotel there later on. You have not heard yet, then?”

She shook her head.

”There has been no message, but go on.”

”He gave me the wrong doc.u.ment--the wrong envelope,” continued Bellamy. ”When I took it to--to Downing Street, it was full of blank paper.”

The color slowly left her cheeks. She looked at him with horror in her face.

”Do you think that he meant to do it?” she exclaimed.

”We cannot tell,” Bellamy answered. ”My own impression is that he did not. We must find out at once what has become of him. He might even, if he fancies himself safe, destroy the envelope he has, believing it to be the duplicate. He is sure to telephone you. The moment you hear you must let me know.”

”You had better stay here,” she declared. ”There are plenty of rooms. You will be on the spot then.”

Bellamy shook his head.