CHAPTER XVII
THE SCHEMING OF GIANTS
At very nearly the same moment as the man who had called himself Dr.Wilmot had leaped from the library window of Deringham Hall, Mr. Sabinsat alone in his sanctum waiting for a visitor. The room was quite asmall one on the ground floor of the house, but was furnished with tasteand evident originality in the Moorish fashion. Mr. Sabin himself wasensconced in an easy chair drawn close up to the fire, and a thin cloudof blue smoke was stealing up from a thick, Egyptian cigarette which wasburning away between his fingers. His head was resting upon the delicatefingers of his left hand, his dark eyes were fixed upon the flamingcoals. He was deep in thought.
"A single mistake now," he murmured softly, "and farewell to the labourof years. A single false step, and goodbye to all our dreams! To-nightwill decide it! In a few minutes I must say Yes or No to Knigenstein. Ithink--I am almost sure I shall say Yes! Bah!"
The frown on his forehead grew more marked. The cigarette burned onbetween his fingers, and a long grey ash fell to the floor. He waspermitting himself the luxury of deep thought. All his life he had beena schemer; a builder of mighty plans, a great power in the destiniesof great people. To-night he knew that he had reached the crisis of acareer, in many respects marvellous. To-night he would take the first ofthose few final steps on to the desire of his life. It only rested withhim to cast the die. He must make the decision and abide by it. Hisown life's ambition and the destinies of a mighty nation hung in thebalance. Had he made up his mind which way to turn the scale? Scarcelyeven yet! There were so many things!
He sat up with a start. There was a knock at the door. He caught up theevening paper, and the cigarette smoke circled about his head. Hestirred a cup of coffee by his side. The hard lines in his face had allrelaxed. There was no longer any anxiety. He looked up and greetedpleasantly--with a certain deference, too--the visitor who was beingushered in. He had no appearance of having been engaged in anything morethan a casual study of the _St. James's Gazette_.
"A gentleman, sir," the stolid-looking servant had announced briefly. Noname had been mentioned. Mr. Sabin, when he rose and held out his hand,did not address his visitor directly. He was a tall, stout man, withan iron-grey moustache and the remains of a military bearing. When theservant had withdrawn and the two men were alone, he unbuttoned hisovercoat. Underneath he wore a foreign uniform, ablaze with orders. Mr.Sabin glanced at them and smiled.
"You are going to Arlington Street," he remarked.
The other man nodded.
"When I leave here," he said.
Then there was a short silence. Each man seemed to be waiting for theother to open the negotiations. Eventually it was Mr. Sabin who did so.
"I have been carefully through the file of papers you sent me," heremarked.
"Yes!"
"There is no doubt but that, to a certain extent, the anti-Englishfeeling of which you spoke exists! I have made other inquiries, and sofar I am convinced!"
"So! The seed is sown! It has been sprinkled with a generous hand!Believe me, my friend, that for this country there are in store verygreat surprises. I speak as one who knows! I do know! So!"
Mr. Sabin was thoughtful. He looked into the fire and spoke musingly.
"Yet the ties of kindred and common origin are strong," he said. "It ishard to imagine an open rupture between the two great Saxon nations ofthe world!"
"The ties of kindred," said Mr. Sabin's visitor, "are not worth the snapof a finger! So!"
He snapped his fingers with a report as sharp as a pistol-shot. Mr.Sabin started in his chair.
"It is the ties of kindred," he continued, "which breed irritability,not kindliness! I tell you, my friend, that there is a great stormgathering. It is not for nothing that the great hosts of my country areruled by a war lord! I tell you that we are arming to the teeth,silently, swiftly, and with a purpose. It may seem to you a small thing,but let me tell you this--we are a jealous nation! And we have cause forjealousy. In whatever part of the world we put down our foot, it istrodden on by our ubiquitous cousins! Wherever we turn to colonise, weare too late; England has already secured the finest territory, the mostfruitful of the land. We must either take her leavings or go a-begging!Wherever we would develope, we are held back by the commercial andcolonising genius--it amounts to that--of this wonderful nation. Theworld of to-day is getting cramped. There is no room for a growingEngland and a growing Germany! So! one must give way, and Germany isbeginning to mutter that it shall not always be her sons who go to thewall. You say that France is our natural enemy. I deny it! France is ourhistorical enemy--nothing else! In military circles to-day a war withEngland would be wildly, hysterically popular; and sooner or later awar with England is as certain to come as the rising of the sun and thewaning of the moon! I can tell you even now where the first blow will bestruck! It is fixed! It is to come! So!"
"Not in Europe," Mr. Sabin said.
"Not in Europe or in Asia! The war-torch will be kindled in Africa!"
"The Transvaal!"
Mr. Sabin's visitor smiled.
"It is in Africa," he said, "that English monopoly has been most gallingto my nation. We too feel the burden of over-population; we too have ouryoung blood making itself felt throughout the land, eager, impetuous,thirsting for adventure and freedom. We need new countries where thesemay develop, and at once ease and strengthen our fatherland. I have seenit written in one of the great English reviews that my country has notthe instinct for colonisation. It is false! We have the instinct and thedesire, but not the opportunity. England is like a great octopus. She isever on the alert, thrusting out her suckers, and drawing in for herselfevery new land where riches lay. No country has ever been so suitablefor us as Africa, and behold--it is as I have said. Already England hasgrabbed the finest and most to be desired of the land--she has it now inher mind to take one step further and acquire the whole. But my countryhas no mind to suffer it! We have played second fiddle to a weaker Powerlong enough. We want Africa, my friend, and to my mind and the mind ofmy master, Africa is worth having at all costs--listen--even at the costof war!"
Mr. Sabin was silent for a moment. There was a faint smile upon hislips. It was a situation such as he loved. He began to feel indeed thathe was making history.
"You have convinced me," he said at last. "You have taught me how tolook upon European politics with new eyes. But there remains oneimportant question. Supposing I break off my negotiations in otherquarters, are you willing to pay my price?"
The Ambassador waved his hand! It was a trifle!
"If what you give fulfils your own statements," he said, "you cannot aska price which my master would not pay!"
Mr. Sabin moved a little in his chair. His eyes were bright. A fainttinge of colour was in his olive cheeks.
"Four years of my life," he said, "have been given to the perfecting ofone branch only of my design; the other, which is barely completed, isthe work of the only man in England competent to handle such a task. Thecombined result will be infallible. When I place in your hands a simpleroll of papers and a small parcel, the future of this country isabsolutely and entirely at your mercy. That is beyond question or doubt.To whomsoever I give my secret, I give over the destinies of England.But the price is a mighty one!"
"Name it," the Ambassador said quietly. "A million, two millions? Rank?What is it?"
"For myself," Mr. Sabin said, "nothing!"
The other man started. "Nothing!"
"Absolutely nothing!"
The Ambassador raised his hand to his forehead.
"You confuse me," he said.
"My conditions," Mr. Sabin said, "are these. The conquest of France andthe restoration of the monarchy, in the persons of Prince Henri and hiscousin, Princess Helene of Bourbon!"
"Ach!"
The little interjection shot from the Ambassador's lips with sharp,staccato emphasis! Then there was a silence--a brief, dramatic silence!The two men sat motionless, the eyes of each fastened upon the oth
er.The Ambassador was breathing quickly, and his eyes sparkled withexcitement. Mr. Sabin was pale and calm, yet there were traces ofnervous exhilaration in his quivering lips and bright eyes.
"Yes, you were right; you were right indeed," the Ambassador saidslowly. "It is a great price that you ask!"
Mr. Sabin laughed very softly.
"Think," he said. "Weigh the matter well! Mark first this fact. If whatI give you has not the power I claim for it, our contract is at an end.I ask for nothing! I accept nothing. Therefore, you may assume thatbefore you pay my price your own triumph is assured. Think! Reflectcarefully! What will you owe to me! The humiliation of England, theacquisition of her colonies, the destruction of her commerce, and such awar indemnity as only the richest power on earth could pay. These thingsyou gain. Then you are the one supreme Power in Europe. France is atyour mercy! I will tell you why. The Royalist party have been gainingstrength year by year, month by month, minute by minute! Proclaim yourintentions boldly. The country will crumble up before you! It would bebut a half-hearted resistance. France has not the temperament of apeople who will remain for ever faithful to a democratic form ofgovernment. At heart she is aristocratic. The old nobility have a lifein them which you cannot dream of. I know, for I have tested it. It hasbeen weary waiting, but the time is ripe! France is ready for the cry of'_Vive le Roi! Vive la Monarchie!_' I who tell you these things haveproved them. I have felt the pulse of my country, and I love her toowell to mistake the symptoms!"
The Ambassador was listening with greedy ears--he was breathing hardthrough his teeth! It was easy to see that the glamour of the thing hadlaid hold of him. He foresaw for himself an immortal name, for hiscountry a greatness beyond the wildest dreams of her most sanguineministers. Bismarck himself had planned nothing like this! Yet he didnot altogether lose his common sense.
"But Russia," he objected, "she would never sanction a German invasionof France."
Mr. Sabin smiled scornfully.
"You are a great politician, my dear Baron, and you say a thing likethat! You amaze me! But of course the whole affair is new to you; youhave not thought it out as I have done. Whatever happens in Europe,Russia will maintain the isolation for which geography and temperamenthave marked her out. She would not stir one finger to help France. Whyshould she? What could France give her in return? What would she gain byplunging into an exhausting war? To the core of his heart and the tipsof his finger-nails the Muscovite is selfish! Then, again, considerthis. You are not going to ruin France as you did before; you are goingto establish a new dynasty, and not waste the land or exact a mightytribute. Granted that sentiments of friendship exist between Russia andFrance, do you not think that Russia would not sooner see France amonarchy? Do you think that she would stretch out her little finger toaid a tottering republic and keep back a king from the throne of France?_Mon Dieu!_ Never!"
Mr. Sabin's face was suddenly illuminated. A fire flashed in his darkeyes, and a note of fervent passion quivered lifelike in his vibratingvoice. His manner had all the abandon of one pleading a great cause,nursed by a great heart. He was a patriot or a poet, surely not only apolitician or a mere intriguing adventurer. For a moment he suffered hisenthusiasm to escape him. Then the mask was as suddenly dropped. He washimself again, calm, convincing, impenetrable.
As the echoes of his last interjection died away there was a silencebetween the two men. It was the Ambassador at last who broke it. He waslooking curiously at his companion.
"I must confess," he said slowly, "that you have fascinated me! You havedone more, you have made me see dreams and possibilities which, set downupon paper, I should have mocked at. Mr. Sabin, I can no longer think ofyou as a person--you are a personage! We are here alone, and I am assecret as the grave; be so kind as to lift the veil of your incognito. Ican no longer think of you as Mr. Sabin. Who are you?"
Mr. Sabin smiled a curious smile, and lit a cigarette from the open boxbefore him.
"That," he said, pushing the box across the table, "you may know in goodtime if, in commercial parlance, we deal. Until that point is decided, Iam Mr. Sabin. I do not even admit that it is an incognito."
"And yet," the Ambassador said, with a curious lightening of his face,as though recollection had suddenly been vouchsafed to him, "I fancythat if I were to call you----"
Mr. Sabin's protesting hand was stretched across the table.
"Excuse me," he interrupted, "let it remain between us as it is now! Myincognito is a necessity for the present. Let it continue to be--Mr.Sabin! Now answer me. All has been said that can be said between us.What is your opinion?"
The Ambassador rose from his seat and stood upon the hearthrug with hisback to the fire. There was a streak of colour upon his sallow cheeks,and his eyes shone brightly underneath his heavy brows. He had removedhis spectacles and was swinging them lightly between his thumb andforefinger.
"I will be frank with you," he said. "My opinion is a favourable one. Ishall apply for leave of absence to-morrow. In a week all that you havesaid shall be laid before my master. Such as my personal influence is,it will be exerted on behalf of the acceptance of your scheme. Thegreatest difficulty will be, of course, in persuading the Emperor of itspracticability--in plain words, that what you say you have to offer willhave the importance which you attribute to it."
"If you fail in that," Mr. Sabin said, also rising, "send for me! Butbear this in mind, if my scheme should after all be ineffective, if itshould fail in the slightest detail to accomplish all that I claim forit, what can you lose? The payment is conditional upon its success; thebargain is all in your favour. I should not offer such terms unless Iheld certain cards. Remember, if there are difficulties send for me!"
"I will do so," the Ambassador said as he buttoned his overcoat. "Nowgive me a limit of time for our decision."
"Fourteen days," Mr. Sabin said. "How I shall temporise with Lobenski solong I cannot tell. But I will give you fourteen days from to-day. It isample!"
The two men exchanged farewells and parted. Mr. Sabin, with a cigarettebetween his teeth, and humming now and then a few bars from one ofVerdi's operas, commenced to carefully select a bagful of golf clubsfrom a little pile which stood in one corner of the room. Already theybore signs of considerable use, and he handled them with the care of anexpert, swinging each one gently, and hesitating for some time between awooden or a metal putter, and longer still between the rival claims of abulger and a flat-headed brassey. At last the bag was full; he resumedhis seat and counted them out carefully.
"Ten," he said to himself softly. "Too many; it looks amateurish."
Some of the steel heads were a little dull; he took a piece of chamoisleather from the pocket of the bag and began polishing them. As theygrew brighter he whistled softly to himself. This time the opera tuneseemed to have escaped him; he was whistling the "Marseillaise!"