Tales of Mystery & Suspense: 25+ Thrillers in One Edition. E. Phillips Oppenheim

put their heads together, we may be under the shadow of catastrophe.”

      Selingman sat with folded arms for several moments.

      “Count,” he said at last, “I appreciate your point of view. You have, I confess, disturbed me. Yet of this young man I have little fear. I did not approach him by any vulgar means. I took, as they say here, the bull by the horns. I appealed to his patriotism.”

      “To what?” the Count demanded incredulously.

      “To his patriotism,” Selingman repeated. “I showed him the decadence of his country, decadence visible through all her institutions, through her political tendencies, through her young men of all classes. I convinced him that what the country needed was a bitter tonic, a kind but chastening hand. I convinced him of this. He believes that he betrays his country for her ultimate good. As I told you before, he has brought me information which is simply invaluable. He has a position and connections which are unique.”

      The Count drew his chair a little nearer.

      “You say that he has done you great service,” he said. “Well, you must admit for yourself that the day is too near now for much more to be expected. Could you not somehow guard against his resolution breaking down at the last moment? Think what it may mean to him—the sound of his national anthem at a critical moment, the clash of arms in the distance, the call of France across the Channel. A week—even half a week’s extra preparation might make much difference.”

      Selingman sat for a short time, deep in thought. Then he drew out a box of pale-looking German cigars and lit one.

      “Count,” he announced solemnly, “I take off my hat to you. Leave the matter in my hands.”

      CHAPTER XXXVI

       Table of Contents

      Norgate set down the telephone receiver and turned to Anna, who was seated in an easy-chair by his side.

      “Selingman is down-stairs,” he announced. “I rather expected I should see something of him as I didn’t go to the club this afternoon. You won’t mind if he comes up?”

      “The man is a nuisance,” Anna declared, with a little grimace. “I was perfectly happy, Francis, sitting here before the open window and looking out at the lights in that cool, violet gulf of darkness. I believe that in another minute I should have said something to you absolutely ravishing. Then your telephone rings and back one comes to earth again!”

      Norgate smiled as he held her hand in his.

      “We will get rid of him quickly, dearest,” he promised.

      There was a knock at the door, and Selingman entered, his face wreathed in smiles. He was wearing a long dinner coat and a flowing black tie. He held out both his hands.

      “So this is the great news that has kept you away from us!” he exclaimed. “My congratulations, Norgate. You can never say again that the luck has left you. Baroness, may I take advantage of my slight acquaintance to express my sincere wishes for your happiness?”

      They wheeled up a chair for him, and Norgate produced some cigars. The night was close. They were on the seventh story, overlooking the river, and a pleasant breeze stole every now and then into the room.

      “You are well placed here,” Selingman declared. “Myself, I too like to be high up.”

      “These are really just my bachelor rooms,” Norgate explained, “but under the circumstances we thought it wiser to wait before we settled down anywhere. Is there any news to-night?”

      “There is great news,” Selingman announced gravely. “There is news of wonderful import. In a few minutes you will hear the shouting of the boys in the Strand there. You shall hear it first from me. Germany has found herself compelled to declare war against Russia.”

      They were both speechless. Norgate was carried off his feet. The reality of the thing was stupendous.

      “Russia has been mobilising night and day on the frontiers of East Prussia,” Selingman continued. “Germany has chosen to strike the first blow. Now listen, both of you. I am going to speak in these few minutes to Norgate here very serious words. I take it that in the matters which lie between him and me, you, Baroness, are as one with him?”

      “It is so,” Norgate admitted.

      “To be frank, then,” Selingman went on, “you, Norgate, during these momentous days have been the most useful of all my helpers here. The information which I have dispatched to Berlin, emanating from you, has been more than important—it has been vital. It has been so vital that I have a long dispatch to-night, begging me to reaffirm my absolute conviction as to the truth of the information which I have forwarded. Let us, for a moment, recapitulate. You remember your interview with Mr. Hebblethwaite on the subject of war?”

      “Distinctly,” Norgate assented.

      “It was your impression,” Selingman continued, “gathered from that conversation, that under no possible circumstances would Mr. Hebblethwaite himself, or the Cabinet as a whole, go to war with Germany in support of France. Is that correct?”

      “It is correct,” Norgate admitted.

      “Nothing has happened to change your opinion?”

      “Nothing.”

      “To proceed, then,” Selingman went on. “Some little time ago you called upon Mr. Bullen at the House of Commons. You promised a large contribution to the funds of the Irish Party, a sum which is to be paid over on the first of next month, on condition that no compromise in the Home Rule question shall be accepted by him, even in case of war. And further, that if England should find herself in a state of war, no Nationalists should volunteer to fight in her ranks. Is this correct?”

      “Perfectly,” Norgate admitted.

      “The information was of great interest in Berlin,” Selingman pointed out. “It is realised there that it means of necessity a civil war.”

      “Without a doubt.”

      “You believe,” Selingman persisted, “that I did not take an exaggerated or distorted view of the situation, as discussed between you and Mr. Bullen, when I reported that civil war in Ireland was inevitable?”

      “It is inevitable,” Norgate agreed.

      Selingman sat for several moments in portentous silence.

      “We are on the threshold of great events,” he announced. “The Cabinet opinion in Berlin has been swayed by the two factors which we have discussed. It is the wish of Germany, and her policy, to end once and for all the eastern disquiet, to weaken Russia so that she can no longer call herself the champion of the Slav races and uphold their barbarism against our culture. France is to be dealt with only as the ally of Russia. We want little more from her than we have already. But our great desire is that England of necessity and of her own choice, should remain, for the present, neutral. Her time is to come later. Italy, Germany, and Austria can deal with France and Russia to a mathematical certainty. What we desire to avoid are any unforeseen complications. I leave you to-night, and I cable my absolute belief in the statements deduced from your work. You have nothing more to say?”

      “Nothing,” Norgate replied.

      Selingman was apparently relieved. He rose, a little later, to his feet.

      “My young friend,” he concluded, “in the near future great rewards will find their way to this country. There is no one who has deserved more than you. There is no one who will profit more. That reminds me. There was one little question I had to ask. A friend of mine has seen you on your way back and forth to Camberley three or four times lately. You lunched the other day with the colonel of one of your Lancer regiments. How did you spend your time at Camberley?”

      For a moment Norgate