hisfirst duty! He reports to me sufficient regarding trivial matters--theirresponsible vagaries of my niece, Lola, and things of that sort. Yethe knows nothing of what is in progress across the frontier," the Kingcried in anger. "Again, he has discovered nothing regarding the theftof those plans. If we could but find out the truth we might easily faceour friends in Vienna, and prevent this attack. Diplomacy could avertthe explosion even now, if we only knew the identity of the spy."
"I have made every inquiry, Your Majesty, but I have, alas! failed."
"I can only suppose that the conspiracy must have been formed in our owncamp," was the King's hard remark, and his visitor knew what was passingin His Majesty's mind. Though Sovereign, he was not blind to thecorruptness of his Ministry. Yet, as monarch, his hands were, alas!tied, or he would have long ago cleaned out the Augean stable.
For an hour he remained with the King, discussing the seriousness of theinternational situation.
"Ah, Waldron," sighed His Majesty, as he stood before the fire, erect,almost statuesque, his face pale and hard-set, "my people little knowhow much responsibility rests upon me, or how heavy is the burden of myduties towards my nation. During these past weeks I have slept butlittle, and many a night have I passed in here alone, trying to devisesome scheme whereby to defeat this secret plot against us. I havelearnt how untiring have been your efforts to unravel the mystery of thetheft, and I also know that a dastardly attempt has been made upon yourlife. I know how well and faithfully you have served me, even though Iam not your own King. I can only thank you most deeply. Your fatherwas my father's friend, and you are my friend."
"And I trust, even though I have failed to accomplish successfully themission entrusted to me, that Your Majesty will still allow me to beyour most faithful and devoted servant," he replied.
"I know you have done your very best, Waldron, and I highly appreciateit," was the Sovereign's earnest reply. "Ah!" he sighed, "if we couldonly discover the truth concerning those plans. Then, by prompt action,we might save the situation. But alas! it is still a mystery."
"Has Your Majesty formed any theory?" Hubert asked, after a fewmoments' hesitation.
"Only one--that Cataldi may have sought profit to himself."
Hubert Waldron nodded, but no word escaped him.
"But how can we prove it--how can we prove it?" the King said.
The Englishman shrugged his shoulders. He recollected that sum whichhad come to the Minister from a mysterious source a few days after thetheft. But of that he made no mention to the King. It was, after all,no proof. Only a suspicion.
Therefore, after yet another half an hour, he made his adieu, bowed ashe backed out of the room, and then walked home full of gravestreflections.
That same evening he had promised to see off at the station by the Milanexpress two English ladies who had been guests of Lady Cathcart at theEmbassy, and this he did, driving in the car with them, for theAmbassador himself had to be present at an official dinner given by theMinister of Foreign Affairs.
He had bidden the two ladies farewell and the train had moved out of thestation upon its long, northward journey when, just as he was about toenter the Ambassador's car, standing in the piazza, he caught sight of afamiliar face--that of Henri Pujalet.
"Hallo?" he cried. "Why--you in Rome?"
"Yes. I arrived only this afternoon," responded Her Highness's lover,halting and putting out his hand. He was well-dressed, though thereseemed to have been some slight attempt to disguise his features."Mademoiselle does not know I am here," he added, "so if you see her,please do not mention this meeting. I shall not see her until the dayafter to-morrow--when we have an appointment to meet."
"Very well," laughed Waldron, though, truth to tell, he was consumed byjealousy. Then in reply to a question he told Waldron that he wasstaying at the Hotel de Russie, out by the Porta del Popolo, to whichplace Hubert gave him a lift, afterwards bidding him good evening anddriving back to the Embassy.
What further indiscretion, he wondered, was Lola about to commit.
His heart was bursting with unspoken love. Night after night he lay andthought of her in wonder. Though she was in ignorance of it, she washis all-in-all. Since he had been in Rome he had danced attendance uponmany women, as it was his duty as diplomat to do; he had laughed andflirted, and danced and gossiped, and kissed many a woman's hand, but inhis heart he held them all in supreme indifference. His eyes and heartwere only gladdened when Her Royal Highness, the scandalously skittishand unconventional, chanced to be present. This was fortunately oftenthe case, and frequently he found himself in cosy corners or inconservatories with her as she whispered merrily behind her fan.
This Frenchman, Pujalet, still knew her by the name she had used in herincognita in Egypt--Lola Duprez. Where, he wondered, would they holdtheir secret meeting?
He bit his lip in mad jealousy as there arose before his eyes a visionof that far-off oasis of dark palms, the steely sky with the brightstars shining, and of two figures clasped breast to breast.
Peters, as he entered his room, placed the evening paper before him.
Taking it up mechanically he saw a heading: "Boots for the Army," andread as follows:
"It has just transpired, telegraphs our Berlin correspondent, that thetender for the supply of all boots to the Italian Army for the nextthree years has been secured by the well-known firm of Steinberg andKlein, of Friedenau, near Berlin. It will be remembered that last yearthey also secured the contract for supplying tinned meats and leatheraccoutrements for the expedition to Tripoli. The contract was signed byHis Excellency General Cataldi some weeks ago, but has not been madepublic until to-day. The prices quoted by the English and French firmswere lower, but His Excellency, after various tests, decided that thequality of the goods offered by the German firm was distinctly better."
Waldron, with bitter words upon his lips, cast the journal from himviciously.
A letter he opened was from Beatriz, dated from Moscow. She was havinga brilliant success at the Opera there, she said. When could they meet?
He tore it into small fragments and cast it into the wastepaper-basket.All thought of the handsome dancer who had used him merely as astepping-stone to fame had now passed from him. He only remembered herwith a feeling of poignant bitterness.
Upon the mantelshelf a large, imposing card of invitation caught hiseye. Peters sorted them out, and day by day placed them in thatconspicuous spot so that he might be reminded of his engagements.
The presence of the Honourable Hubert Waldron, M.V.O., was requestedthat night by His Excellency General Cataldi at an official reception atthe Ministry of War.
He smiled. Cataldi, the unscrupulous, corrupt member of the Cabinet,who was feathering his nest so comfortably, had, perhaps, hired thosetwo assassins to take his life. And he was invited to his reception.The situation was not without its grim humour.
Yes, he would go. He would watch further this man who was providing thebrave, patriotic sons of Italy with uneatable beef and unwearable boots,in order that the Countess Cioni should be provided with funds.
He rung up Pucci on the telephone, telling him where he was going.
"You have entree to the Ministry, Pucci, have you not?"
He heard the detective reply in the affirmative.
"I may want you. So go there."
"I cannot go as guest, signore," came the reply. "I will arrange, ifyou wish, to be on duty as a servant."
"Good. And be as near His Excellency's private room as possible. Iwill meet you there at midnight and give you instructions. Thereception is at eleven--after the banquet at the Ministry of ForeignAffairs. His Majesty will, no doubt, be there, and other members of theRoyal Family."
"_Benissimo, signore_, I shall be in the corridor at midnight, acting aswaiter."
Then Hubert rang off, and passing into his bedroom, got into uniformwith the aid of the queer, under-sized, hunch-backed little man who, forso many years, had been his faithfu
l servant, and whose father beforehim had been valet to Hubert's father.
At eleven o'clock Waldron stood before the long cheval glass arranginghis tight uniform collar. Then he placed his decorations exactly at theright angle, settled the hang of his pearl-handled diplomatic sword, andtook his white gloves from Peters' hand.
His face was dark and clouded. On the one hand he had no desire to meetthe corrupt Minister who was bringing disaster and defeat upon hiscountry, while on the other he knew that his Chief expected him to turnup there and be on show, as is the duty of those attached to theEmbassies.
His Majesty, too, would be there. What, in face of those words of hisconcerning His Excellency, could he think? Truly, the head upon whichlies a crown must, indeed, be very weary. How little does the generalpublic know of that narrow, glittering, fevered