Part 22 (1/2)
”How the mischief did you know that?” Norgate demanded.
”Our society,” Selingman announced, smiling ponderously, ”has ramifications in every direction. It is our business to know much. We are collectors of information of every sort and nature.”
”Seems to have been part of your business to follow me about,”
observed Norgate.
”Perhaps so. If we thought it good for us to have you followed about, we certainly should,” Selingman admitted. ”You see, in Germany,” he added, leaning back in his chair, ”we lay great stress upon detail and intelligence. We get to know things: not the smattering of things, like you over here are too often content with, but to know them thoroughly and understand them. Nothing ever takes us by surprise. We are always forewarned. So far as any one can, we read the future.”
”You are a very great nation, without a doubt,” Norgate acknowledged, ”but my quarter of an hour is coming to an end. Tell me what else you would expect from me if I accepted this post?”
”For the moment, I can think of nothing,” Selingman replied. ”There are many ways in which we might make use of you, but to name them now would be to look a little too far into the future.”
”By whom should I really be employed?”
”By the Anglo-German Peace Society,” Selingman answered promptly. ”Let me say a word more about that society. I am proud of it. I am one of those prominent business men who are responsible for its initiation. I have given years of time and thought to it. All our efforts are directed towards promoting a better understanding with England, towards teaching the two countries to appreciate one another. But in the background there is always something else. It is useless to deny that the mistrust existing between the two countries has brought them more than once almost to the verge of war. What we want is to be able, at critical times, to throw oil upon the troubled waters, and if the worst should come, if a war really should break out, then we want to be able to act as peacemakers, to heal as soon as possible any little sores that there may be, and to enter afterwards upon a greater friends.h.i.+p with a purified England.”
”It sounds very interesting,” Norgate confessed. ”I had an idea that you were proposing something quite different.”
”Please explain.”
”To be perfectly frank with you,” Norgate acknowledged, ”I thought you wanted me to do the ordinary spy business--traces of fortresses, and particulars about guns and aeroplanes--”
”Rubbish, my dear fellow!” Selingman interrupted. ”Rubbis.h.!.+ Those things we leave to our military department, and pray that the question of their use may never arise. We are concerned wholly with economic and social questions, and our great aim is not war but peace.”
”Very well, then,” Norgate decided, ”I accept. When shall I start?”
Selingman laid his hand upon the other's shoulder as he rose to his feet.
”Young man,” he said, ”you have come to a wise decision. Your salary will commence from the first of this month. Continue to live as usual. Let me have the opportunity of seeing you at the club, and let me know each day where you can be found. I will give you your instructions from day to day. You will be doing a great work, and, mind you, a patriotic work. If ever your conscience should trouble you, remember that. You are working not for Germany but for England.”
”I will always remember that,” Norgate promised, as he turned away.
CHAPTER XIX
Norgate found Anna waiting for him in the hall of the smaller hotel, a little further westward, to which she had moved. He looked admiringly at her cool white muslin gown and the perfection of her somewhat airy toilette.
”You are five minutes late,” she remonstrated.
”I had to go into the city,” he apologised. ”It was rather an important engagement. Soon I must tell you all about it.”
She looked at him a little curiously.
”I will be patient,” promised Anna, ”and ask no questions.”
”You are still depressed?”
”Horribly,” she confessed. ”I do not know why, but London is getting on my nerves. It is so hatefully, stubbornly, obstinately imperturbable. I would find another word, but it eludes me. I think you would call it smug. And it is so noisy. Can we not go somewhere for lunch where it is tranquil, where one can rest and get away from this roar?”
”We could go to Ranelagh, if you liked,” suggested Norgate. ”There are some polo matches on this afternoon, but it will be quiet enough for lunch.”