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

      The Baroness rose as though unwillingly to her feet. She dropped the slightest of curtseys and resumed her place.

      “Your visit is a little unexpected, is it not, Karl?” she remarked.

      “Apparently!” the young man answered, with an unpleasant laugh.

      He turned and stared at Norgate, who returned his regard with half-amused, half-impatient indifference. The Baroness leaned forward eagerly.

      “Will you permit me to present Mr. Francis Norgate to you, Karl?”

      Norgate, who had suddenly recognised the newcomer, rose to his feet, bowed and remained standing. The Prince’s only reply to the introduction was a frown.

      “Kindly give me your seat,” he said imperatively. “I will conclude your entertainment of the Baroness.”

      For a moment there was a dead silence. In the background several of the maîtres d’hôtel had gathered obsequiously around. For some reason or other, every one seemed to be looking at Norgate as though he were a criminal.

      “Isn’t your request a little unusual, Prince?” he remarked drily.

      The colour in the young man’s face became almost purple.

      “Did you hear what I said, sir?” he demanded. “Do you know who I am?”

      “Perfectly,” Norgate replied. “A prince who apparently has not learnt how to behave himself in a public place.”

      The young man took a quick step forward. Norgate’s fists were clenched and his eyes glittering. The Baroness stepped between them.

      “Mr. Norgate,” she said, “you will please give me your escort home.”

      The Prince’s companions had seized him, one by either arm. An older man who had been dining in a distant corner of the room, and who wore the uniform of an officer of high rank, suddenly approached. He addressed the Prince, and they all talked together in excited whispers. Norgate with calm fingers arranged the cloak around his companion and placed a hundred mark note upon his plate.

      “I will return for my change another evening,” he said to the dumbfounded waiter. “If you are ready, Baroness.”

      They left the restaurant amid an intense hush. Norgate waited deliberately whilst the door was somewhat unwillingly held open for him by a maître d’hôtel, but outside the Baroness’s automobile was summoned at once. She placed her fingers upon Norgate’s arm, and he felt that she was shivering.

      “Please do not take me home,” she faltered. “I am so sorry—so very sorry.”

      He laughed. “But why?” he protested. “The young fellow behaved like a cub, but no one offered him any provocation. I should think by this time he is probably heartily ashamed of himself. May I come and see you to-morrow?”

      “Telephone me,” she begged, as she gave him her hand through the window. “You don’t quite understand. Please telephone to me.”

      She suddenly clutched his hand with both of hers and then fell back out of sight among the cushions. Norgate remained upon the pavement until the car had disappeared. Then he looked back once more into the restaurant and strolled across the brilliantly-lit street towards the Embassy.

      CHAPTER II

       Table of Contents

      Norgate, during his month’s stay in Berlin, had already adopted regular habits. On the following morning he was called at eight o’clock and rode for two hours in the fashionable precincts of the city. The latter portion of the time he spent looking in vain for a familiar figure in a green riding-habit. The Baroness, however, did not appear. At ten o’clock Norgate returned to the Embassy, bathed and breakfasted, and a little after eleven made his way round to the business quarters. One of his fellow-workers there glanced up and nodded at his arrival.

      “Where’s the Chief?” Norgate enquired.

      “Gone down to the Palace,” the other young man, whose name was Ansell, replied; “telephoned for the first thing this morning. Ghastly habit William has of getting up at seven o’clock and suddenly remembering that he wants to talk diplomacy. The Chief will be furious all day now.”

      Norgate lit a cigarette and began to open his letters. Ansell, however, was in a discoursive mood. He swung around from his desk and leaned back in his chair.

      “How can a man,” he demanded, “see a question from the same point of view at seven o’clock in the morning and seven o’clock in the evening? Absolutely impossible, you know. That’s what’s the matter with our versatile friend up yonder. He gets all aroused over some scheme or other which comes to him in the dead of night, hops out of bed before any one civilised is awake, and rings up for ambassadors. Then at night-time he becomes normal again and takes everything back. The consequence is that this place is a regular diplomatic see-saw. Settling down in Berlin pretty well, aren’t you, Norgate?”

      “Very nicely, thanks,” the latter replied.

      “Dining alone with the Baroness von Haase!” his junior continued. “A Court favourite, too! Never been seen alone before except with her young princeling. What honeyed words did you use, Lothario—”

      “Oh, chuck it!” Norgate interrupted. “Tell me about the Baroness von Haase! She is Austrian, isn’t she?”

      Ansell nodded.

      “Related to the Hapsburgs themselves, I believe,” he said. “Very old family, anyhow. They say she came to spend a season here because she was a little too go-ahead for the ladies of Vienna. I must say that I’ve never seen her out without a chaperon before, except with Prince Karl. They say he’d marry her—morganatically, of course—if they’d let him, and if the lady were willing. If you want to know anything more about her, go into Gray’s room.”

      Norgate looked up from his letters.

      “Why Gray’s room? How does she come into his department?”

      Ansell shook his head.

      “No idea. I fancy she is there, though.”

      Norgate left the room a few minutes later, and, strolling across the hall of the Embassy, made his way to an apartment at the back of the house. It was plainly furnished, there were bars across the window, and three immense safes let into the wall. An elderly gentleman, with gold-rimmed spectacles and a very benevolent expression, was busy with several books of reference before him, seated at a desk. He raised his head at Norgate’s entrance.

      “Good morning, Norgate,” he said.

      “Good morning, sir,” Norgate replied.

      “Anything in my way?”

      Norgate shook his head.

      “Chief’s gone to the Palace—no one knows why. I just looked in because I met a woman the other day whom Ansell says you know something about—Baroness von Haase.”

      “Well?”

      “Is there anything to be told about her?” Norgate asked bluntly. “I dined with her last night.”

      “Then I don’t think I would again, if I were you,” the other advised. “There is nothing against her, but she is a great friend of certain members of the Royal Family who are not very well disposed towards us, and she is rather a brainy little person. They use her a good deal, I believe, as a means of confidential communication between here and Vienna. She has been back and forth three or four times lately, without any apparent reason.”

      Norgate stood with his hands in his pockets, frowning slightly.

      “Why, she’s half an Englishwoman,” he remarked.

      “She may be,”