Part 22 (1/2)
Von Salzinger listened to the cold words and eagerly awaited the reply of the man at the head of the table. But none was forthcoming, for he seemed to be lost in moody contemplation of the whole affair. Therefore the Captain-General seized his opportunity.
”That is how I see it, sir,” he said eagerly. ”I submit, with all deference, that I be nominally punished as though I had seriously offended. What is that punishment? Degradation? Degradation and retirement from the service of the Fatherland. It will satisfy Hertzwohl, and put him off his guard. He will have no suspicion, and I shall be free to work. If I am placed on the Secret Service and sent to--England, it should not be impossible to discover all we want to know and nullify the effects of the treachery. Those concerned can be silenced. We can be guided by developments. And----”
”The harm is done, man! You talk of nullifying. You talk like a fool.
There can be no undoing the harm done.”
The hoa.r.s.e pa.s.sion of the man at the table was in every word he spoke.
The gleaming eyes were full of the burning fire of unrestrained ferocity.
But the cold tones of Von Berger once more dropped like ice upon a kindling fire.
”It will be the better course, sir,” he said. ”We do not yet know the full position. That must be perfectly established before we can estimate the damage.”
But the other seemed absorbed in his own imagery of the matter.
”An Englishman! Gott!”
Von Berger turned abruptly to Von Salzinger.
”Leave us. I will call you when ready. Remain within call.”
The authority was unmistakable. The Captain-General might have been the veriest conscript for the courtesy displayed. He left the great chamber with no outward sign, but with storm sweeping through his heart.
Beyond the door he reviewed the situation. His position was by no means enviable, but it was not without possibilities. He realized now that the hand of Fate had pointed through the whole affair. He knew that he had had no suspicion of Hertzwohl in Borga. A thought of treachery had never entered his head. Hertzwohl had piqued him. He had seriously offended him, as, long ago, this same man's daughter had offended his pride. He had intended merely to retaliate through his official capacity, and now through these trivial pettinesses a deadly plot had been revealed. He had answered the summons to Kuhlhafen intending to defend himself by casting suspicion upon Hertzwohl, and his defence had turned out to be the true estimate of the matter. Well----
But his reflections were cut short by the summons to return to the council-chamber. Von Berger held the iron-studded door for him to enter, and, as he pa.s.sed within, he closed and carefully secured it.
Then he came back to his place at the table, and his companion signed for him to proceed.
He faced the waiting officer.
”Captain-General von Salzinger, you are to be degraded from your rank and office. You will be relieved of command at Borga at once. You will then report to the Foreign Office, where you will receive sealed instructions. On receipt of these instructions you will proceed to London without delay. When you have completed the work allotted to you in England--satisfactorily--you will receive your reinstatement. That is all.”
CHAPTER XIII
NEWS
The atmosphere of the little study, or library, or whatever it was called, in which Ruxton carried on the private work of his political calling, in the diminutive house in Smith Square, Westminster, was redolent with that delightful suggestion of the old world so dear to the collector's heart.
Its owner was a collector by instinct and training. He had been brought up to the study of old-world art, and had learned to appreciate the beauties of all those delicate and priceless specimens which are the handicraft of bygone genius. But he was no keeper of a museum. His little home in the purlieus of Westminster was a storehouse of beauty and charm. Every piece of furniture, every tapestry, every rug, every metal gem was full of significance and harmony with its setting. Not one detail of this home but had cost him hours of thought and consideration, and the result was all he asked, a perfectly harmonious whole, a creation of all that made for undemonstrative artistry in his nature.
Just now even the dying early autumn sun seemed graciously disposed towards it. It was peeping in through the old Georgian windows and searching out the mellow beauties of the study. Its softened tone seemed to somehow belong to the picture it discovered within. The delicate tracery of the deep, ruddy mahogany furnis.h.i.+ngs, the design of which must have given hours of delight to the artist soul of Chippendale; the softened tints of the ancient Persian rugs upon the crazily uneven flooring; the exquisite carving of the oaken panels and the delicate pictures of the hanging tapestries above them,--all these beauties seemed to belong to a time of softened light which comes with the ageing of the year.
The calm delight of it all resisted even the touch of a modern figure suddenly appearing in its midst. Ruxton's modern blue serge suit and soft felt hat might have been an anachronism, but it gave no serious offence. He entered the room and glanced swiftly and appreciatively upon his treasured friends. Then he laid his hat aside, took his seat at his desk and prepared to attend to some work he had on hand.
But, for once, inclination proved stronger than purpose. He sat back in the ample chair, such as an elderly ancestor might have revelled in, lit a cigar, and, for some idle minutes, all effort was abandoned in favor of the relaxed dreaming of a brain accustomed to high pressure.