Part 41 (1/2)

”My dear Count!” he exclaimed. ”I am very glad to see you, but this is an unusual visit. I would have met you somewhere, or come to the Emba.s.sy.

Have we not agreed that it was well for Herr Selingman, the crockery manufacturer--”

”That is all very well, Selingman,” the Count interrupted, ”but this morning I have had a shock. It was necessary for me to talk with you at once. In Bond Street I met the Baroness von Haase. For twenty-four hours London has been ransacked in vain for her. This you may not know, but I will now tell you. She has been our trusted agent, the trusted agent of the Emperor, in many recent instances. She has carried secrets in her brain, messages to different countries. There is little that she does not know. The last twenty-four hours, as I say, I have sought for her. The Emperor requires her presence in Vienna. I meet her in Bond Street this morning and she introduces to me her husband, an English husband, Mr.

Francis Norgate!”

He drew back a little, with outstretched hands. Selingman's face, however, remained expressionless.

”Married already!” he commented. ”Well, that is rather a surprise.”

”A surprise? To be frank, it terrifies me!” the Count cried. ”Heaven knows what that woman could tell an Englishman, if she chose! And her manner--I did not like it. The only rea.s.suring thing about it was that she told me that her husband was one of your men.”

”Quite true,” Selingman a.s.sented. ”He is. It is only recently that he came to us, but I do not mind telling you that during the last few weeks no one has done such good work. He is the very man we needed.”

”You have trusted him?”

”I trust or I do not trust,” Selingman replied. ”That you know. I have employed this young man in very useful work. I cannot blindfold him.

He knows.”

”Then I fear treachery,” the Count declared.

”Have you any reason for saying that?” Selingman asked.

The Count lit a cigarette with trembling fingers.

”Listen,” he said, ”always, my friend, you undervalue a little the English race. You undervalue their intelligence, their patriotism, their poise towards the serious matters of life. I know nothing of Mr. Francis Norgate save what I saw this morning. He is one of that type of Englishmen, clean-bred, well-born, full of reserve, taciturn, yet, I would swear, honourable. I know the type, and I do not believe in such a man being your servant.”

The shadow of anxiety crossed Selingman's face.

”Have you any reason for saying this?” he repeated.

”No reason save the instinct which is above reason,” the Count replied quickly. ”I know that if the Baroness and he put their heads together, we may be under the shadow of catastrophe.”

Selingman sat with folded arms for several moments.

”Count,” he said at last, ”I appreciate your point of view. You have, I confess, disturbed me. Yet of this young man I have little fear. I did not approach him by any vulgar means. I took, as they say here, the bull by the horns. I appealed to his patriotism.”

”To what?” the Count demanded incredulously.

”To his patriotism,” Selingman repeated. ”I showed him the decadence of his country, decadence visible through all her inst.i.tutions, through her political tendencies, through her young men of all cla.s.ses. I convinced him that what the country needed was a bitter tonic, a kind but chastening hand. I convinced him of this. He believes that he betrays his country for her ultimate good. As I told you before, he has brought me information which is simply invaluable. He has a position and connections which are unique.”

The Count drew his chair a little nearer.

”You say that he has done you great service,” he said. ”Well, you must admit for yourself that the day is too near now for much more to be expected. Could you not somehow guard against his resolution breaking down at the last moment? Think what it may mean to him--the sound of his national anthem at a critical moment, the clash of arms in the distance, the call of France across the Channel. A week--even half a week's extra preparation might make much difference.”

Selingman sat for a short time, deep in thought. Then he drew out a box of pale-looking German cigars and lit one.

”Count,” he announced solemnly, ”I take off my hat to you. Leave the matter in my hands.”

CHAPTER x.x.xVI