Part 42 (1/2)
”Perfectly,” Norgate admitted.
”The information was of great interest in Berlin,” Selingman pointed out.
”It is realised there that it means of necessity a civil war.”
”Without a doubt.”
”You believe,” Selingman persisted, ”that I did not take an exaggerated or distorted view of the situation, as discussed between you and Mr.
Bullen, when I reported that civil war in Ireland was inevitable?”
”It is inevitable,” Norgate agreed.
Selingman sat for several moments in portentous silence.
”We are on the threshold of great events,” he announced. ”The Cabinet opinion in Berlin has been swayed by the two factors which we have discussed. It is the wish of Germany, and her policy, to end once and for all the eastern disquiet, to weaken Russia so that she can no longer call herself the champion of the Slav races and uphold their barbarism against our culture. France is to be dealt with only as the ally of Russia. We want little more from her than we have already. But our great desire is that England of necessity and of her own choice, should remain, for the present, neutral. Her time is to come later. Italy, Germany, and Austria can deal with France and Russia to a mathematical certainty. What we desire to avoid are any unforeseen complications. I leave you to-night, and I cable my absolute belief in the statements deduced from your work.
You have nothing more to say?”
”Nothing,” Norgate replied.
Selingman was apparently relieved. He rose, a little later, to his feet.
”My young friend,” he concluded, ”in the near future great rewards will find their way to this country. There is no one who has deserved more than you. There is no one who will profit more. That reminds me. There was one little question I had to ask. A friend of mine has seen you on your way back and forth to Camberley three or four times lately. You lunched the other day with the colonel of one of your Lancer regiments.
How did you spend your time at Camberley?”
For a moment Norgate made no reply. The moonlight was s.h.i.+ning into the room, and Anna had turned out all the lights with the exception of one heavily-shaded lamp. Her eyes were s.h.i.+ning as she leaned a little forward in her chair.
”Boko again, I suppose,” Norgate grunted.
”Certainly Boko,” Selingman acknowledged.
”I was in the Yeomanry when I was younger,” Norgate explained slowly. ”I had some thought of entering the army before I took up diplomacy. Colonel Chalmers is a friend of mine. I have been down to Camberley to see if I could pick up a little of the new drill.”
”For what reason?” Selingman demanded.
”Need I tell you that?” Norgate protested. ”Whatever my feeling for England may be at the present moment, however bitterly I may regret the way she has let her opportunities slip, the slovenly political condition of the country, yet I cannot put away from me the fact that I am an Englishman. If trouble should come, even though I may have helped to bring it about, even though I may believe that it is a good thing for the country to have to meet trouble, I should still fight on her side.”
”But there will be no war,” Selingman reminded him. ”You yourself have ascertained that the present Cabinet will decline war at any cost.”
”The present Government, without a doubt,” Norgate a.s.sented. ”I am thinking of later on, when your first task is over.”
Selingman nodded gravely.
”When that day comes,” he said, as he rose and took up his hat, ”it will not be a war. If your people resist, it will be a butchery. Better to find yourself in one of the Baroness' castles in Austria when that time comes! It is never worth while to draw a sword in a lost cause. I wish you good night, Baroness. I wish you good night, Norgate.”
He shook hands with them both firmly, but there was still something of reserve in his manner. Norgate rang for his servant to show him out. They took their places once more by the window.
”War!” Norgate murmured, his eyes fixed upon the distant lights.
Anna crept a little nearer to him.