This is one of life's more frequent tragedies, but had not affectedeither Mlle. Binesco, who was womanly, and had always married (so tospeak) manly men, or Mlle. Bjornsen, who was neutral, and had notmarried any one, having been much too busy.
Anyhow, these two ladies were at one in their quest to-night. Both,whatever their minds might be like, had warm feminine hearts. Geneva,that godly Calvinist city, was a poor hunting-ground on the whole forthem. But they turned their steps to the old _cit?_, rightly believingthat among those ancient and narrow streets vice might, if anywhere,flit by night.
"These wicked traffickers in human flesh and blood," observed Mlle.Binesco sighing (for she was rather stout), as they ascended the Ruede la Cit?; "do not tell me they are not somehow behind the mysteriousassaults on our unhappy comrades of the League. Never tell me so, forI will not believe it."
"I will not tell you so," Mlle. Bjornsen, an accurate person, replied,"for I know nothing at all about it, nor does any one else. But to meit seems improbable, I sometimes think, mademoiselle, that there issome danger that the preoccupation which women like ourselvesnaturally feel with the suppression of this cruel trade and the rescueof its victims, may at times lead us into obsession or exaggeration. Itry to guard myself against that. Moderation and exactitude areimportant."
"Ah, there speaks the north. For me, mademoiselle, I cannot bemoderate; it is a quality alien to my perhaps over-impetuoustemperament. I have never been cautious--neither in love, hate, nor inthe taking of risks. You will realise, Mademoiselle, that the risk youand I are taking to-night is considerable. Have we not been warned notto penetrate into the more squalid parts of the city by night? And weare not only delegates, but women. At any moment we might be attackedand carried off to some dwelling of infamy, there to wait deportationto another land."
"I do not expect it," replied the Scandinavian lady, who had a senseof humour.
A shrill giggle broke on their ears from a side street. Glancing downit, they saw a young girl, wearing like flags the paint and manner ofher profession, and uttering at intervals its peculiar cry--thatshrill, harsh laugh which had drawn the ladies' attention.
"Ah!" a coo of satisfaction came from Mlle. Binesco. "_Voil? unepauvre petite!_"
As the girl saw them, she darted away from them down the alley,obviously suspicious of their intentions. Quickly they followed; here,obviously, was a case for assistance and rescue.
The kind mouth of Mlle. Bjornsen set in determination; her intelligenteyes beamed behind their glasses.
The girl fluttered in front of them, still uttering the peculiar cryof her species, which to the good ladies was a desperate appeal forhelp, till she suddenly bolted beneath a low, dark archway.
The ladies hesitated. Then, "I must follow her, poor girl," Mlle.Bjornsen remarked simply, for the courage of a thousand Scandinavianheroes beat in her blood.
"And where you adventure, my dear friend," cried Mlle. Binesco, "I, aRoumanian woman and a friend of kings, will not be behind! We advance,then, in the name of humanity and of our unhappy sex!"
32
Humanity, compassion, womanly sympathy, and devotion to the cause ofvirtue--by these noble qualities these two poor ladies were lured totheir fate. For it should be by now superfluous to say that, thoughthey entered that archway, they did not emerge from it.
33
There also disappeared that night the good Albanian bishop,betrayed by who knew what of episcopal charity and response toappeals for succour from his fellow-countrymen, the helplesssheep of his flock, threatened by the wolfish atrocities of theineffable Serb-Croat-Slovenes.
It did indeed seem that this unseen hand was taking the highesttypes of delegate for its purposes so mysterious and presumablyso fell.
34
Every one turned next morning with interest to the day's issue of"Press Opinions" to discover what the world's newspapers were sayingof the tragic and extraordinary state of affairs in Geneva. They weresaying, it seemed, on the whole, very much what might be expected ofthem. The American press, for instance, observed that the League,without the support of the United States, was obviously falling intothe state of disruption and disintegration which had long since beenprophesied. What was to be expected, when the Monroe Doctrine wasbeing threatened continually by the bringing before the League ofdisputes between the South and Central American republics, disputeswhich, being purely American, could not possibly be settled byEuropean intervention in any shape or form? On this question of theMonroe Doctrine, the security and utility of the whole Leaguerested.... It was rumoured that it was the shaky attitude of theLeague on this point that was responsible for its present collapse....
("Seems very like saying that America is behind the whole game,"commented many readers.)
The French press commented on the fact that no one had yet dared tolay a hand on the French delegates. "Whatever," it said, "may bethought of the other delegates, the whole world has agreed to see inFrance a nation so strong, so beneficent, and so humane, that itmerits the confidence of humanity at large. Without it, no affairscould flourish. The tribute to the prestige of France evinced by thisnotable omission of assault cannot but be gratifying to all who loveFrance. With the tragic disappearance of several English-speakingdelegates, it might perhaps be natural to dispense with the tedioususe of two languages where only one is necessary. No one listens tothe interpretations into English of French speakers; the generalchatter of voices and movement which immediately starts when theEnglish interpreter begins, is surely sign enough of the generalfeeling on this point...."
The more nationalist section of the Italian press--the _Popolod'Italia_, for instance--prophesied, with tragic accuracy, that theAlbanian delegate would very soon be among the victims of thiscriminal plot, in which it was not, surely, malicious to detectYugo-Slav agency. It also spoke with admiration of the poet Dante.
The Swiss press, in much distress, urged the clearing up of thistragic mystery, which so foully stained the records of the noble cityof Geneva, so beautiful in structure, so chaste in habits, soidealistic in outlook, the centre of the intellectual thought ofEurope, and, above all, so cheap to live in. For their part (so said_La Suisse_), they attributed these outrages to criminal agents fromthe hotels and shops of Brussels, Vienna, and other cities which mightbe mentioned, who had been sent to discredit Geneva as a safe andsuitable home for the League. Fortunately, however, such discreditingwas impossible: on the contrary, the cities discredited were theabove-mentioned, which had hatched and put into execution such awicked plot.
The extracts selected from the British press spoke with variousvoices. The _Morning Post_ commented, without much distress, on theobvious disintegration and collapse of the League, which had alwayshad within itself the seeds of ruin and now was meeting its expectedNemesis. Such preposterous houses of cards, said the _Morning Post_,cannot expect to last long in a world which is, in the main, asensible place. It did not now seem probable that, as some said,Bolshevists were behind these outrages; on further consideration itwas not even likely to be Irish traitors; for these sections of thepublic would doubtless approve the League, typical as it was of thefolly which so strongly actuated themselves. Far more likely was itthat their assaults were the work, misguided but surely excusable, ofthe Plain Man, irritated at last to execute judgment on these frenziedand incompetent efforts after that unprofitable dream of thevisionary, a world peace. It was well known that the question ofdisarmament was imminent....
The _British Bolshevist_ (its leader, not its correspondent, whoseldom got quoted by the _Press Bulletin_) agreed with the _MorningPost_ that the house of cards was collapsing because of its inherentvices, but was inclined to think that the special vice for which itwas suffering retribution was its failure to deal faithfully withArticle 18 of the Covenant, which concerned the publicity of treaties.The _British Bolshevist_ always had Article 18 a good deal on itsmind.
The _Times_ said that these strange happenings showed the importanceof keeping on frank and frien
dly terms (the _Times_ often used thesetwo incompatible adjectives as if they were synonymous) with France.They served to emphasise and confirm that _entente_ of which theBritish people were resolved to suffer no infringement.
The _Daily News_ thought that the enemies of disarmament and of thevarious humanitarian efforts of the League were responsible for theseassaults.
The _Manchester Guardian_ correspondent said that at last theAssembly, formerly a little dull, had taken on all the interest of ablood and thunder melodrama....
35
The days went by, and the nights. Why dwell on them, or, in detail,on the strange--or rather the now familiar, but none the lesssinister--events which marked each? One could tell of the disappearance,one after another, of the prominent members of the Council--of thedecoy of Signor Nelli, the chief Italian delegate, by messengers as fromFiume with strange rumours of Jugo-Slav misdeeds; of the suddendisappearance of Latin Americans from the Casino, whither they had goneto chat, to drink, and to play; of the silent stealing away of rowsupon rows of Japanese, none knew how or why; of how Kristna, thedistinguished Indian, was lured to meet a supposed revealer of a Ghandianti-League plot.
As full-juiced apples, waxing over-mellow, drop in a silent autumnnight, so dropped these unhappy persons, delegate by delegate, totheir unguessed at doom. And it would indeed appear as if there weresome carefully deliberated design against the welfare of the League,for gradually it appeared that those taken had, on the whole, thiswelfare more at heart than those left; their ideals were more pacific,their hearts more single, their minds more League.
The Turkish delegation, for example, did not disappear. Nor theRussian, nor the German, nor the Greek, nor the Serb-Croat-Slovene.
In the hands of those left, the Assembly and its committees were lessdangerous to the wars of the world than they had been before. Thebest, from a League stand-point, were gone. What, for instance, wouldhappen to the disarmament question should it be brought up, with themost ardent members of the disarmament committee thus removed from thescene? But, indeed, how could that or any other question be broughtup, in the present state of agitation, when all minds were set on theone problem, on how to solve this appalling mystery that spread itstentacles further every day? The only committee which sat, orattempted any business, was Committee 9, on the Disappearance ofDelegates--and that was signally impotent to do more than meet, passresolutions, and report on unavailing measures taken.
The other committees, on humanitarian questions, on intellectual,financial, economic, political, and transit questions, were struckhelpless. Not a frontier dispute, not an epidemic, not a drug, not somuch as a White Slave, could be discussed. Truly the very Leagueitself seemed struck to the heart. All the Assembly could do was meet,vote, pass resolutions, and make speeches about the horrors of thenext war and the necessity of thwarting the foul plot against thewellbeing of the League.
Meanwhile Central Europe rumbled, as usual, indeed as always,with disputes that might at any moment become blows. Affairs inJugo-Slavia, in Hungary, in Greece, in Albania, in Czecho-Slovakia,in Poland, and in Russia, were not quiet. Greece and Turkey werehideously at war. Nor were the South and Central American republicsfree from unrest. Russia was reaching out its evil White handsto grasp and weld again into a vast unhappy whole its formerconstituent republics of Ukraine, Lithuania, Latvia, Esthonia,Tauride, and White Russia. There seemed every chance that it wouldshortly succeed in doing so. The nations growled everywhere likesullen dogs on fragile chains. Never had the League of Nations, inall its brief career, been more necessary, never less available. Nota grievance could be given that public airing from what is called aworld platform, which is so beneficial to the airers, so apt atpromoting fraternal feeling, so harmless to all concerned. Instead,grievances festered and went bad, and blood-poisoning was rapidlysetting in. Not a voice could be raised, as many voices would havebeen raised, from that world-platform, to urge contending parties torefer their differences to the Court of International Justice, soready and eager to adjudicate, to apply international conventions,whether general or particular, international custom as evidence fora general practice accepted as law, and teachings of the most highlyqualified publicists as subsidiary means for the determination ofrules of law. For all this is what these aged and wise judgessitting at the Hague were equipped and ready to do, if only thenations would ask them to do it. But it was not to be expectedthat the nations should make use of such a strange procedure forthemselves, unless prompted and even urged thereto by the weight ofopinion in the Assembly.
Yes, Europe, and indeed the world, was, as always, in a parlousstate, rushing on ruin with no hand raised to give it pause, even asin the evil old days before the conception and foundation of theLeague. The journalists were as busy as, and more profoundly happythan, they would have been had the Assembly been running its appointedcourse. They ran about picking up clues, Marconi-graphing messages totheir papers about the latest disappearances, the latest theories, thenewest rumours. Each became a private detective, pursuing a lonetrail. Other journalists flocked to the scene; where they had come intheir tens, they now came in their hundreds, for here was News. TheAssembly of the League of Nations is not News, until it stumbles onmystery and disaster, becoming material for a shocker. The meetingtogether of organisations for the betterment of the world is not News,in the sense that their failure is. Deeply Henry, going about hissecret and private business, intent and absorbed, pondered thisquestion of News, what it is and what it is not. Crime is News;divorce is News; girl mothers are News; fabric gloves and dolls' eyesare, for some unaccountable reason, News; centenaries of famous menare, for some still stranger reason, News; railway accidents are News;the wrong-doing of clergymen is News; strangest of all, women are,inherently and with no activities on their part, News, in a way thatmen are not. Henry had often thought this very singular. He had readin accounts of public gatherings (such as criminal trials, tennistournaments, boxing matches, etc.), such statements as "There weremany well-dressed women present." These women had done nothing todeserve their fame; they were merely present, just as men were. Butnever had Henry read, "There were many well-dressed men present," formen were not News. To be News in oneself, without taking anypreliminary action--that was very exciting for women. A furtherquestion arose: were women News to their own sex, or only to men? Andwere men perhaps News to women? "There were many well-dressed menpresent." ... Ah, that would be exciting reading for women, andperhaps a woman reporter would thrill to it and set it down. But mendo not care how many men were present, or how well they were dressed,or what colour their hats and suits were. All sorts of articles andletters appear in the papers about women. Profound questions areraised concerning them. Should they smoke? Should they work? Vote?Take Orders? Marry? Exist? Are not their skirts too short, or theirsleeves? Have they a sense of humour, of honour, of direction? Arespinsters superfluous? But how seldom similar inquiries are propoundedabout men. How few persons discuss superfluous bachelors, or whetherthe male arm or leg is an immodest sight, or whether men should vote.For men are not News.
Anyhow, thought Henry, anyhow delegates became News the moment theydisappeared. If you do wrong you are News, and if you have a badaccident, you are News, but if you mysteriously disappear, you aredoubly and trebly News. To be News once in one's life--that issomething for a man. Though sometimes it comes too late to beenjoyed.
36
In and out of the maze of ancient streets that are Old Geneva, to andfro along the alleys that lead through balconied, leaning houses, upand down obscure and sudden flights of stone steps, Henry wanderedunder the September moon. All day he had, with the help of CharlesWilbraham's unwitting secretary, tracked Charles Wilbraham. He knewhow Charles had begun the morning by dictating proud and ponderousdocuments in his proud and ponderous voice, and talking to people whocame in and out of his room; how he had then gone to the Assembly Halland chatted in the lobby to every one of sufficient importance to beworth his while, including ex-Cardinal Franchi, who had of
late beenmaking friends with him, and with whom he had dined last night at theCh?teau L?man; how then Charles had lunched with two Russians, aGreek, and a Pole, and Sir John Levis, his father-in-law, at the Caf?du Nord, hatching Henry did not know what (for the Nord was much tooexpensive for him) of anti-League mischief and crime; how after lunchCharles had attended the meetings of the sub-committees on theDisappearance of Delegates, going from one to another lookingbusiness-like and smug and as if he were at strictly privatemeetings, as indeed he was. Then up to his room for his tea (Charlesnever missed this meal) and down again to see how Sub-Committee 5("Consideration of Various Suspicions based on Reason and CommonSense") was getting on, and then up again to do some more work. (Forthere was this about Charles, as even Henry had to admit--he workedhard. Ambition, the last infirmity of noble minds, offensive andirritating quality as it is, has at least this one good fruit.) ThenCharles had been to a large dinner given by the Canadian delegation tomembers of the Secretariat, and had made a facetious speech; and now,at eleven-thirty, he was walking about the old city, followed at somedistance by Henry Beechtree.