CHAPTER XXXI
NEARING A CRISIS
From the wilds of Scotland to Monte Carlo, as fast as motor-cars andtrain de luxe could bring him, came the right Honourable MeredithSimpson, a very distinguished member of His Majesty's Government.Hunterleys, advised of his coming by telegram from Marseilles, met himat the station, and together the two men made their way at once toHunterleys' room across at the Hotel de Paris. Behind locked doors theyspoke for the first time of important matters.
"It's a great find, this of yours, Hunterleys," the Ministeracknowledged, "and it is corroborated, too, by what we know is happeningaround us. We have had all the warning in the world just lately. TheRussian Ambassador is in St. Petersburg on leave of absence--in fact forthe last six months he has been taking his duties remarkably lightly.Tell me how you first heard of the affair?"
"I got wind of it in Sofia," Hunterleys explained. "I travelled fromthere quite quietly, loitered about the Italian Riviera, and came onhere as a tourist. The only help I could get hold of here was fromSidney Roche, who, as you know, is one of our Secret Service men. Roche,I am sorry to say, was shot last night. He may live but he won't be wellenough to take any further hand in the game here, and I have no one totake his place."
"Roche shot!" Mr. Simpson exclaimed, in a shocked tone. "How did ithappen?"
"They found him lying on the roof of the Villa Mimosa, just over theroom where the meeting was taking place," Hunterleys replied. "Theychased him round the grounds and we just got him off in a motor-car, butnot before he'd been hit twice. He was just able to tell me a little.The first meeting was quite informal and very guarded. Douaille was mostcautious--he was there only to listen. The second meeting was lastnight. Grex was in the chair, representing Russia."
"You mean the Grand Duke Augustus?" Mr. Simpson interrupted.
Hunterleys nodded.
"Grex is the name he is living under here. He explained Russia'sposition. Poor Roche was only able to falter a few words, but what hesaid was enough to give us the key-note to the whole thing. The long andshort of it all is that Russia turned her face westward so long asConstantinople was possible. Now that this war has come about and endedas it has done, Russia's chance has gone. There is no longer any _quidpro quo_ for her alliance with France. There is no friendship, ofcourse, between Russia and Germany, but at any rate Russia has nothingto fear from Germany, and she knows it. Grex is quite frank. They mustlook eastward, he said, and when he says eastward, he means Manchuria,China, Persia, even India. At the same time, Russia has a conscience,even though it be a diplomatic conscience. Hence this conference. Shedoesn't want France crushed. Germany has a proposition. It has beenenunciated up to a certain point. She confers Alsace and Lorraine andpossibly Egypt upon France, for her neutrality whilst she destroys theBritish Fleet. Or failing her neutrality, she wants her to place a weakarmy on the frontier, which can fall back without much loss before aGerman advance. Germany's objective then will be Calais and not Paris,and from there she will command the Straits and deal with the BritishFleet at her leisure. Meanwhile, she will conclude peace with France onhighly advantageous terms. Don't you see what it means, Simpson? Theelementary part of the thing is as simple as A B C. Germany has nothingto gain from Russia, she has nothing to gain from France. England is theonly country who can give her what she wants. That is about as far asthey have got, up to now, but there is something further behind it all.That, Selingman is to tell them to-night."
"The most important point about the whole matter, so far as we areconcerned," Mr. Simpson declared, "is Douaille's attitude. You havereceived no indication of that, I suppose?"
"None whatever," Hunterleys answered. "I thought of paying my respects,but after all, you know, I have no official standing, and personally weare almost strangers."
The Minister nodded.
"It's a difficult position," he confessed. "Have you copies of yourreports to London?"
"I have copies of them, and full notes of everything that has transpiredso far, in a strong box up at the bank," Hunterleys assented. "We canstroll up there after lunch and I will place all the documents in yourhands. You can look them through then and decide what is best to bedone."
The Minister rose to his feet.
"I shall go round to my rooms, change my clothes," he announced, "andmeet you presently. We'll lunch across at Ciro's, eh? I didn't mean tocome to Monte Carlo this year, but so long as I am here, I may as wellmake the best of it. You are not looking as though the change had doneyou much good, Hunterleys."
"The last few days," Hunterleys remarked, a little drily, "have not beenexactly in the nature of a holiday."
"Are you here alone?"
"I came alone. I found my wife here by accident. She came through withthe Draconmeyers. They were supposed to stay at Cannes, but alteredtheir plans. Of course, Draconmeyer meant to come here all the time."
The Minister frowned.
"Draconmeyer's one man I should be glad to see out of London," hedeclared. "Under the pretext of fostering good-will, and that sort ofthing, between the mercantile classes of our two countries, I think thatthat fellow has done about as much mischief as it is possible for anysingle man to have accomplished. We'll meet in an hour, Hunterleys. Myman is putting out some things for me and I must have a bath."
Hunterleys walked up to the hospital, and to his surprise met Selingmancoming away. The latter saluted him with a wave of the hat and a genialsmile.
"Calling to see our poor invalid?" he enquired blandly.
Hunterleys, although he knew his man, was a little taken aback.
"What share in him do you claim?" he asked.
Selingman sighed.
"Alas!" he confessed, "I fear that my claim would sound a littlecold-blooded. I think that I was the only man who held his gun straight.Yet, after all, Roche would be the last to bear me any grudge. He wasplaying the game, taking his risks. Uncommonly bad marksmen Grex'sprivate police were, or he'd be in the morgue instead of the hospital."
"I gather that our friend is still alive?" Hunterleys remarked.
"Going on as well as could be expected," Selingman replied.
"Conscious?"
Selingman smiled.
"You see through my little visit of sympathy at once!" he exclaimed."Unable to converse, I am assured, and unable to share with his friendsany little information he may have picked up last night. By the way,whom shall you send to report our little conference to-night? Youwouldn't care to come yourself, would you?"
"I should like to exceedingly," Hunterleys assured him, "if you'd giveme a safe conduct."
Selingman withdrew his cigar from his mouth and laid his hand upon theother's shoulder.
"My dear friend," he said earnestly, "your safe conduct, if ever Isigned it, would be to the other world. Frankly, we find you rather anuisance. We would be better pleased if your Party were in office, andyou with your knees tucked under a desk at Downing Street, attending toyour official business in your official place. Who gave you this rovingcommission, eh? Who sent you to talk common sense to the Balkan States,and how the mischief did you get wind of our little meeting here?"
"Ah!" Hunterleys replied, "I expect you really know all these things."
Selingman, with his feet planted firmly upon the pavement, took a freshcigar from his waistcoat pocket, bit off the end and lit it.
"My friend Hunterleys," he continued, "I am enjoying this briefinterchange of confidences. Circumstances have made me, as you see, apolitician, a schemer if you like. Nature meant me to be one of thefrankest, the most truthful, the best-hearted of men. I detest thetortuous ways of the old diplomacy. The spoken word pleases me best.That is why I like a few minutes' conversation with the enemy, why Ilove to stand here and talk to you with the buttons off our foils. Weare scheming against you and your country, and you know it, and we shallwin. We can't help but win--if not to-day, to-morrow. Your country hashad a marvellously long run of good luck, but it can't last for ever."
Hunterle
ys smiled.
"Well," he observed, "there's nothing like confidence. If you are sosure of success, why couldn't you choose a cleaner way to it than bytampering with our ally?"
Selingman patted his companion on the shoulder.
"Listen, my friend," he said, "there are no such things as allies. Analliance between two countries is a dead letter so soon as theirinterests cease to be identical. Now Austria is our ally because she ispractically Germany. We are both mid-Continental Powers. We both needthe same protection. But England and France! Go back only fifty years,my dear Hunterleys, and ask yourself--would any living person, livingnow and alive then, believe in the lasting nature of such an unnaturalalliance? Wherever you look, in every quarter of the globe, yourinterests are opposed. You robbed France of Egypt. She can't have whollyforgotten. You dominate the Mediterranean through Gibraltar, Malta, andCyprus. What does she think of that, I wonder? Isn't a humiliation forher when she does stop to think of it? You've a thousand years ofquarrels, of fighting and rapine behind you. You can't call yourselvesallies because the thing isn't natural. It never could be. It was onlyyour mutual, hysterical fear of Germany which drove you into oneanother's arms. We fought France once to prove ourselves, and for money.Just now we don't want either money or territory from France. Perhaps wedon't even want, my dear Englishman, what you think we want, but all thesame, don't blame us for trying to dissolve an unnatural alliance. Wasthat Simpson who came by the Luxe this morning?"
"It was," Hunterleys admitted.
"The Right Honourable John William Meredith Simpson!" Selingman recited,waving his cigar. "Well, well, we certainly have made a stir with ourlittle meetings here. An inspired English Cabinet Minister,travel-stained and dusty, arrives with his valet and a blackdispatch-box, to foil our schemes. Send him along, my friend. We are notat all afraid of Mr. Simpson. Perhaps we may even ask him to join usthis evening."
"I fancy," Hunterleys remarked grimly, "that the Englishman who joinsyou this evening will find a home up on the hill here."
"Or down in the morgue there," Selingman grunted, pointing down toMonaco. "Take care, Hunterleys--take care, man. One of us hates you. Itisn't I. You are fighting a brave fight and a losing fight, but you aregood metal. Try and remember, when you find that you are beaten, thatlife has many consolations for the philosopher."
He passed on and Hunterleys entered the hospital. Whilst he was waitingin the little reception-room, Felicia came in. Her face showed signs ofher night's anxiety.
"Sidney is still unconscious," she announced, her voice shaking alittle. "The doctors seem hopeful--but oh! Sir Henry, it is terrible tosee him lying there just as though he were dead!"
"Sidney will pull through all right," Hunterleys declared,encouragingly. "He has a wonderful constitution and he is the luckiestfellow born. He always gets out of trouble, somehow or other."
She came slowly up to him.
"Sir Henry," she said piteously, "I know quite well that Sidney waswilling to take his risks. He went into this thing, knowing it wasdangerous. I want to be brave. What happens must be. But listen. Youwon't--you won't rob me of everything in life, will you? You won't sendDavid after him?"
Hunterleys smiled reassuringly.
"I can promise you that," he told her. "This isn't David's job at all.He has to stick to his post and help out the bluff as a presscorrespondent. Don't be afraid, Felicia. You shall have your David."
She seized his hand and kissed it.
"You have been so kind to me always, Sir Henry," she sighed. "I can'ttell you how thankful I am to think that you don't want David to go andrun these horrible risks."
"No fear of that, I promise you," he assured her once more. "David willbe busy enough pulling the strings another way."
The doctor entered the room and shook hands with Hunterleys. There wasno news, he declared, nothing to be done. The patient must continue inhis present condition for several more hours at least. The symptomswere, in their way, favourable. Beyond that, nothing could be said.Felicia and Hunterleys left the hospital together.
"I wonder," she began, as they turned out of the white gates, "whetheryou would mind very much if I told you something?"
"Of course not!"
"Yesterday," she continued slowly, "I met Lady Hunterleys. You know, Ihave seen her twice when I have been to your house to sing for yourguests. She recognised me, I feel sure, but she didn't seem to want tosee me. She looked surprised when I bowed. I worried about it at firstand then I wondered. You are so very, very secretive just now. Whateverthis affair may be in which you three are all concerned, you never openyour lips about it. Lady Hunterleys probably doesn't know that you havehad to come up to the villa at all hours of the night just to seeSidney. You don't suppose that by any chance she imagined--that you cameto see me?"
Hunterleys was struck by the thought. He remembered several chanceremarks of his wife. He remembered, too, the coincidence of his recentvisits to the villa having prevented him in each case from acceding tosome request of Violet's.
"I am glad you've mentioned this, child," he said frankly. "Now I cometo think of it, my wife certainly did know that I came up to the villavery late one night, and she seemed upset about it. Of course, shehasn't the faintest idea about your brother."
"Well," Felicia declared, with a sigh of relief, "I felt that I had totell you. It sounded horribly conceited, in a way, but then she wouldn'tknow that you came to see Sidney, or that I was engaged to David.Misunderstandings do come about so easily, you know, sometimes."
"This one shall be put right, at any rate," he promised her. "Now, ifyou will take my advice, you will go home and lie down until theevening. You are going to sing again, aren't you?"
"If there is no change," she replied. "I know that he would like me to.You haven't minded--what I've said?"
"Not a bit, child," he assured her; "in fact I think it was very good ofyou. Now I'll put you in this carriage and send you home. Think ofnothing except that Sidney is getting better every hour, and singto-night as though your voice could reach his bedside. Au revoir!"
He waved his hand to her as she drove off, and returned to the Hotel deParis. He found a refreshed and rejuvenated Simpson smoking a cigaretteupon the steps.
"To lunch!" the latter exclaimed. "Afterwards I will tell you my plans."