A full half-hour had passed, yet the head forester, who was keeping a look-out along the road, did not signal His Highness's approach.
"I wonder what can have detained him?" remarked the Inspector-General of Cavalry.
I explained that a strange young man had come to the forester's house.
"Well," laughed a smart young lieutenant of Uhlans, "I could have understood the delay if it had been a lady!"
An hour went past. The light would soon fade, and we, knowing "Willie's" utter disregard for his appointments, at last decided to continue the shoot, leaving one of the foresters to tell His Highness the direction we had taken.
The Crown-Prince did not, however, join us, and darkness had fallen ere we returned to the forester's house. Of His Highness there was no sign, a fact which much surprised us. In the room wherein I had left him his gun and green Tyrolese hat were lying upon a chair, and the fact that all the cars were still ranged outside showed that he had not driven back to the castle.
The Crown-Prince had disappeared!
Knof, His Highness's chauffeur, who had been walking with us, was sent back post-haste to the schloss to ascertain whether he had been seen there, for His Highness's movements were often most erratic. We knew that if the whim took him he would perhaps go off in an opposite direction, or trudge back to the castle with utter disregard of our natural anxiety.
Lights were lit, and we enjoyed cigars awaiting Knof's return. In an hour he was back with the news that nothing had been heard of His Highness. Soon after we had left that morning, however, a young man in a grey suit had called and seen the major-domo, who had directed him where His Highness might be found.
Upon Eckardt—the commissary of police responsible for His Highness's safety—the onus rested. Yet, had he not been sent out with the party, as His Highness had expressed to me a wish to be left alone with the stranger, whose name I alone knew.
While we were discussing the most judicious mode of action—for I scented much mystery in this visit of Karl Krahl—one of the party suddenly discovered, lying upon the ledge of the window, a lady's small and rather elegant handbag of blackmoirésilk.
"Hulloa!" I cried when he held it up for inspection. "This reveals to us one fact—a woman has been here!"
I opened the bag, and within found a small lawn handkerchief with a coronet embroidered in its corner, a tiny tortoise-shell mirror, and four one-hundred-mark notes, but no clue whatever as to its owner.
The mystery was increasing hourly, but the gay party, knowing "Willie's" susceptibility where the fair sex were concerned, only laughed and declared that His Highness would assuredly turn up before the evening was over.
Truth to tell, I did not like the situation. His Highness's disappearance was now known to fifty or so persons, beaters, and others, and I feared lest it might get into the Berlin papers. With that object I called them together and impressed upon them that most complete silence must be maintained regarding the affair.
Then Knof drove me alone back to the schloss. I wondered if His Highness, wishing to get awayunobserved, returning in secret there, had left me a written message in his room. He had done that on one occasion before.
I dashed up to the small, old-world room which by day overlooked the romantic and picturesque valley, but upon the table whereat I had been writing early that morning there was nothing.
As I turned to leave I heard a footstep, and next instant saw the little deformed old Countess facing me.
Her appearance quite startled me. Apparently she had just arrived, for she was in a dark blue bonnet and warm travelling coat.
"Ah! Count von Heltzendorff!" she cried in that squeaky, high-pitched voice of hers. "Is His Imperial Highness here? I must see him immediately."
"No, Countess. His Imperial Highness is not here," was my reply. "This afternoon he mysteriously disappeared from the forester's lodge at Neue Schenke, and we are unable to trace him."
"Disappeared!" gasped the old lady, instantly pale and agitated.
"Yes," I said, looking her straight in the face.
"Do you know whether he had a visitor to-day—a young, dark-haired man?"
"He had, Countess. A man called, and saw him. At His Highness's request I left him alone with his visitor at the forester's house. The man's name was Karl Krahl."
"How did you know his name?" she asked, staring at me with an expression of distinct suspicion.
"Because—well, because I happen to have learnt it some time ago," I said. "And, further, on returning to the house we found this little bag in the room wherein I had left the Crown-Prince."
"Why!—a lady's bag!" she exclaimed as I held it out for inspection.
"Yes," I said in a somewhat hard tone. "Do you happen to recognize it?"
"Me? Why?" asked the old woman.
"Well, because I think it is your own property," I said with a sarcastic smile. "I have some recollection of having seen it in your hand!"
She took it, examined it well, and then, with a hollow, artificial laugh, declared:
"It certainly is not mine. I once had a bag very similar, but mine was not of such good quality."
"Are you really quite certain, Countess?" I demanded in a low, persuasive voice.
"Quite," she declared, though I knew that she was lying to me. "But why trouble about that bag while there is a point much more important—the safety and whereabouts of His Imperial Highness?" she went on in a great state of agitation. "Tell me, Count, exactly what occurred—as far as you know."
I recounted to her the facts just as you have already written them down, and as I did so I watched her thin, crafty old face, noticing upon it an expression full of suspicion of myself. She was, I now realized, undecided as to the exact extent of my knowledge.
"How did you know that the young man's name was Krahl?" she asked eagerly. "You had perhaps met him before—eh?"
But to this leading question I maintained a sphinx-like silence. That the little old woman who had so unexpectedly become a lady-in-waiting was playing some desperate double game I felt sure, but its exact import was still an enigma.
"In any case," she said, "would it not be as well to return to the Neue Schenke and make search?"
I smiled. Then, in order to let her know that I was acquainted with Italian, the language she had spoken on that well-remembered night in her own conservatory, I exclaimed:
"Ahe! alle volte con gli occhi aperti si far dei sogni." (Sometimes one can dream with one's eyes open.)
Her thin eyebrows narrowed, and with a shrug of her shoulders the clever old woman replied:
"Dal false bene viene il vero male." (From an affected good feeling comes a real evil.)
I realized at that moment that there was more mystery in the affair than I had yet conceived. His Imperial Highness was certainly missing, though the female element of the affair had become eliminated by my recognition of her own handbag. She, too, had been in secret to the forester's house—but with what object?
Half an hour later we were back at the little house in the forest.
The guests had all returned to the castle, and only Eckardt, the police commissary, remained, with the forester and his underlings. Already search had been made in the surrounding woods, but without result. Of his Imperial Highness there was no trace.
In the long room, with its pitch-pine walls, and lit by oil lamps, the crafty old Countess closely questioned Eckardt as to the result of his inquiries. But the police official, who had become full of nervous fear, declared that he had been sent off by His Highness, and had not since found any trace of him. He spoke of the little black silk bag, of course, and attached great importance to it.
Within half an hour we had reorganized the beaters from the neighbourhood and, with lanterns, set out again to examine some woods to the east which had not been searched. About ten o'clock we set forth, the Countess accompanying us and walking well, notwithstanding her age, though I could see that it was a fearful anxiety that kept her active. To the men with us every inch of the mountain side was familiar, and for hours we searched.
Suddenly, not far away, a horn was blown, followedby loud shouts. Quickly we approached the spot, and Eckardt and myself, as we came up, looked upon a strange scene. Close to the trunk of a great beech tree lay the form of the Crown-Prince, hatless, outstretched upon his face.
Instantly I bent, tore open his shooting jacket, and to my great relief found that his heart was still beating. He was, however, quite unconscious, though there seemed no sign of a struggle. As he had left his hat and gun in the house, it seemed that he had gone forth only for a moment. And yet we were quite a mile from the forester's house!
The Countess had thrown herself upon her knees and stroked his brow tenderly when I announced that he was still living. By her actions I saw that she was filled by some bitter self-reproach.
With the lanterns shining around him—surely a weird and remarkable scene which would, if described by the journalists, have caused a great sensation in Europe—the Crown-Prince was brought slowly back to consciousness, until at last he sat up, dazed and wondering.
His first words to me were:
"That fellow! Where is he? That—that glass globe!"
Glass globe! Surely His Highness's mind was wandering.
An hour later he was comfortably in bed in the great old-world room in the castle, attended by a local doctor—upon whom I set the seal of official silence—and before dawn he had completely recovered.
Yet, even to me, he declared that he retained absolutely no knowledge of what had occurred.
"I went out quickly, and I—well, I don't know what happened," he told me soon after dawn, as he lay in bed. Strangely enough, he made no mention of the man, Karl Krahl.
Later on he summoned the Countess von Kienitz, and for twenty minutes or so he had an animateddiscussion with her. Being outside the room, however, I was unable to hear distinctly.
Well, I succeeded, by bribes and threats, in hushing up the whole affair and keeping it out of the papers, while by those who knew of the incident it was soon forgotten.
I suppose it must have been fully three months later when one evening, having taken some documents over to the Emperor for signature at the Berlin Schloss, I returned to the Prince's private room in the Palace, when, to my great surprise, I found the man Karl Krahl seated there. He looked very pale and worn, quite unlike the rather athletic figure he presented at the forester's house.
"If you still refuse to tell me the truth, then I shall take my own measures to find out—severe measures! So I give you full warning," the Crown-Prince was declaring angrily, as I entered so unexpectedly.
I did not withdraw, pretending not to notice the presence of a visitor, therefore His Highness himself beckoned the young man, who followed him down the corridor to another room.
The whole affair was most puzzling. What had happened on that afternoon in the Harz Mountains I could not at all imagine. By what means had His Highness been rendered unconscious, and what part could the little old Countess have played in the curious affair?
In about half an hour the Crown-Prince returned in a palpably bad humour, and, flinging himself into his chair, wrote a long letter, which he addressed to Countess von Kienitz. This he sealed carefully, and ordered me to take it at once to the Stulerstrasse and deliver it to her personally.
"The Countess left for Stockholm this morning," I was informed by the bearded manservant. "She left by the eight o'clock train, and has already left Sassnitz by now."
"When do you expect her to return?"
The man did not know.
On going back to His Highness and telling him of the Countess's departure, he bit his lip and then smiled grimly.
"That infernal old woman has left Germany, and will never again put her foot upon our soil, Heltzendorff," he said. "You may open that letter. It will explain something which I know must have mystified you."
I did so. And as I read what he had written I held my breath. Truly, it did explain much.
Imposing the strictest silence upon me, the Crown-Prince then revealed how utterly he and the Crown-Princess had been misled, and how very narrowly he had escaped being the victim of a cunning plot to effect his death.
The little old Countess von Kienitz had, it seemed, sworn to avenge the degradation and dismissal of her son, who had been in the famous Death's Head Hussars. She had secretly traced the Crown-Prince as author of a subtle conspiracy against him, the underlying motive being jealousy. With that end in view she had slowly wormed her way into His Highness's confidence, and introduced to him Karl Krahl, a neurotic young Saxon who lived in London, and who pretended he had unearthed a plot against the Kaiser himself.
"It was to tell me the truth concerning the conspiracy that Krahl came to me in secret at Ballenstedt. He remained with me for half an hour, when, to my great surprise, we were joined by the Countess. The story they told me of the plot against the Emperor was a very alarming one, and I intended to return at once to Berlin. The Countess had left to walk back to the schloss, when presently we heard a woman's scream—her voice—and we both went forth to discover what was in progress. As I ran along a little distance behind Krahl, suddenly what seemed like a thin glass globe struck me in the chestand burst before my face. It had been thrown by an unknown hand, and, on breaking, must have emitted some poisonous gas which was intended to kill me, but which happily failed. Until yesterday the whole affair was a complete mystery, but Krahl has now confessed that the Countess conceived the plot, and that the hand that had thrown the glass bomb was that of her son, who had concealed himself in the bushes for that purpose."
Though, of course, I hastened to congratulate His Highness upon his fortunate escape, yet I now often wonder whether, if the plot had succeeded, the present world-conflict would ever have occurred.
"How completely we have put to sleep these very dear cousins of ours, the British!" His Imperial Highness the Crown-Prince made this remark to me as he sat in the corner of a first-class compartment of an express that had ten minutes before left Paddington Station for the West of England—that much-advertised train known as the Cornish-Riviera Express.
The Crown-Prince, though not generally known, frequently visited England and Scotland incognito, usually travelling as Count von Grünau, and we were upon one of these flying visits on that bright summer's morning as the express tore through your delightful English scenery of the Thames Valley, with the first stopping-place at Plymouth, our destination.
The real reason for the visit of my young hotheaded Imperial Master was concealed from me.
Four days before he had dashed into my room at the Marmor Palace at Potsdam greatly excited. Hehad been with the Emperor in Berlin all the morning, and had motored back with all speed. Something had occurred, but what it was I failed to discern. He carried some papers in the pocket of his military tunic. From their colour I saw that they were secret reports—those documents prepared solely for the eyes of the Kaiser and those of his precious son.
He took a big linen-lined envelope and, placing the papers in it, carefully sealed it with wax.
"We are going to London, Heltzendorff. Put that in your dispatch-box. I may want it when we are in England."
"To London—when?" I asked, much surprised at the suddenness of our journey, because I knew that we were due at Weimar in two days' time.
"We leave at six o'clock this evening," was the Crown-Prince's reply. "Koehler has ordered the saloon to be attached to the Hook of Holland train. Hardt has already left Berlin to engage rooms for us at the 'Ritz,' in London."
"And the suite?" I asked, for it was one of my duties to arrange who travelled with His Imperial Highness.
"Oh! we'll leave Eckardt at home," he said, for he always hated the surveillance of the Commissioner of Secret Police. "We shall only want Schuler, my valet, and Knof."
We never travelled anywhere without Knof, the chauffeur, who was an impudent, arrogant young man, intensely disliked by everyone.
And so it was that the four of us duly landed at Harwich and travelled to London, our identity unknown to the jostling crowd of Cook's tourists returning from their annual holiday on the Continent.
At the "Ritz," too, though we took our meals in the restaurant, that great square white room overlooking the Park, "Willie" was not recognized, because all photographs of him show him in elegant uniform. In a tweed suit, or in evening clothes, hepresents an unhealthy, weedy and somewhat insignificant figure, save for those slant animal eyes of his which are always so striking in his every mood.
His Imperial Highness had been on the previous day to Carlton House Terrace to a luncheon given by the Ambassador's wife, but to which nobody was invited but the Embassy staff.
And that afternoon in the great dining-room, in full view of St. James's Park and Whitehall, the toast of "The Day" was drunk enthusiastically—the day of Great Britain's intended downfall.
That same evening an Imperial courier arrived from Berlin and called at the "Ritz," where, on being shown into the Crown-Prince's sitting-room, he handed His Highness a sealed letter from his wife.
"Willie," on reading it, became very grave. Then, striking a match, he lit it, and held it until it was consumed. There was a second letter—which I saw was from the Emperor. This he also read, and then gave vent to an expression of impatience. For a few minutes he reflected, and it was then he announced that we must go to Plymouth next day.
On arrival there we went to the Royal Hotel, where the Crown-Prince registered as Mr. Richter, engaging a private suite of rooms for himself and his secretary, myself. For three days we remained there, taking motor runs to Dartmoor, and also down into Cornwall, until on the morning of the fourth day the Crown-Prince suddenly said:
"I shall probably have a visitor this morning about eleven o'clock—a young lady named King. Tell them at the bureau to send her up to my sitting-room."
At the time appointed the lady came. I received her in the lobby of the self-contained flat, and found her to be about twenty-four, well-dressed, fair-haired and extremely good-looking. Knowing the Crown-Prince'spenchantfor the petticoat, I saw at once the reason of our journey down to Plymouth.
Miss King, I learned, was an English girl who some years previously had gone to America with her people, and by the heavy travelling coat and close-fitting hat she wore I concluded that she had just come off one of the incoming American liners.
One thing which struck me as I looked at her was the brooch she wore. It was a natural butterfly of a rare tropical variety, with bright golden wings, the delicate sheen of which was protected by small plates of crystal—one of the most charming ornaments I had ever seen.
As I ushered her in she greeted the Crown-Prince as "Mr. Richter," being apparently entirely unaware of his real identity. I concluded that she was somebody whom His Highness had met in Germany, and to whom he had been introduced under his assumed name.
"Ah! Miss King!" he exclaimed pleasantly in his excellent English, shaking hands with her. "Your boat should have been in yesterday. I fear you encountered bad weather—eh?"
"Yes, rather," replied the girl. "But it did not trouble me much. We had almost constant gales ever since we left New York," she laughed brightly. She appeared to be quite a charming little person. But his fast-living Highness was perhaps one of the best judges of a pretty face in all Europe, and I now realized why we had travelled all the way from Potsdam to Plymouth.
"Heltzendorff, would you please bring me that sealed packet from your dispatch-box?" he asked, suddenly turning to me.
The sealed packet! I had forgotten all about it ever since he had handed it me at the door of the Marmor Palace. I knew that it contained some secret reports prepared for the eye of the Emperor. The latter had no doubt seen them, for the Crown-Prince had brought them with him from Berlin.
As ordered, I took the packet into the room whereHis Highness sat with his fair visitor, and then I retired and closed the door.
Hotel doors are never very heavy, as a rule, therefore I was able to hear conversation, but unfortunately few words were distinct. The interview had lasted nearly half an hour. Finding that I could hear nothing, I contented myself in reading the paper and holding myself in readiness should "Mr. Richter" want me.
Of a sudden I heard His Highness's voice raised in anger, that shrill, high-pitched note which is peculiar both to the Emperor and to his son when they are unusually annoyed.
"But I tell you, Miss King, there is no other way," I heard him shout. "It can be done quite easily, and nobody can possibly know."
"Never!" cried the girl. "What would people think of me?"
"You wish to save your brother," he said. "Very well, I have shown you how you can effect this. And I will help you if you agree to the terms—if you will find out what I want to know."
"I can't!" cried the girl, in evident distress. "I really can't! It would be dishonest—criminal!"
"Bah! my dear girl, you are looking at the affair from far too high a standpoint," replied the man she knew as Richter. "It is a mere matter of business. You ask me to assist you to save your brother, and I have simply stated my terms. Surely you would not think that I should travel from Berlin here to Plymouth in order to meet you if I were not ready and eager to help you?"
"I must ask my father. I can speak to him in confidence."
"Your father!" shrieked Mr. Richter in alarm. "By no means. Why, you must not breathe a single word to him. This affair is a strict secret between us. Please understand that." Then, after a pause, he asked in a lower and more serious voice:
"Your brother is, I quite admit, in direst peril, and you alone can save him. Now, what is your decision?"
The girl's reply was in a tone too low for me to overhear. Its tenor, however, was quickly apparent from the Crown-Prince's words:
"You refuse! Very well, then, I cannot assist you. I regret, Miss King, that you have had your journey to England for nothing."
"But won't you help me, Mr. Richter?" cried the girl appealingly. "Do, do, Mr. Richter!"
"No," was his cold answer. "I will, however, give you opportunity to reconsider your decision. You are, no doubt, going to London. So am I. You will meet me in the hall of the Carlton Hotel at seven o'clock on Thursday evening, and we will dine together."
"But I can't—I really can't do as you wish. You surely will not compel me to—to commit a crime!"
"Hush!" he cried. "I have shown you these papers, and you know my instructions. Remember that your father must know nothing. Nobody must suspect, or you will find yourself in equal peril with your brother."
"You—you are cruel!" sobbed the girl. "Horribly cruel!"
"No, no," he said cheerfully. "Don't cry, please. Think it all over, Miss King, and meet me in London on Thursday night."
After listening to the appointment I discreetly withdrew into the corridor on pretence of summoning a waiter, and when I returned the pretty English girl was taking leave of "Mr. Richter."
Her blue eyes betrayed traces of emotion, and she was, I saw, very pale, her bearing quite unlike her attitude when she had entered there.
"Well, good-bye, Miss King," said His Highness, grasping her hand. "It was really awfully goodof you to call. We shall meet again very soon—eh? Good-bye."
Then, turning to me, he asked me to conduct her out.
I walked by her side along the corridor and down the stairs, but as we went along she suddenly turned to me, remarking:
"I wonder if all men are alike?"
"Alike, why?" I asked, surprised.
"Mr. Richter—ah! he has a heart of stone," she declared. "My poor brother!" she added, in a voice broken in emotion. "I have travelled from America in order to try and save him ere it is too late."
"Mr. Richter is your friend—eh?" I asked as we descended.
"Yes. I met him at Frankenhausen two years ago. I had gone there with my father to visit the Barbarossa Cavern."
"Then you have lived in Germany?"
"Yes, for several years."
By this time we were at the door of the hotel, and I bowed to her as she smiled sadly and, wishing me adieu, passed out into the street.
On returning to the Crown-Prince, I found him in a decidedly savage mood. He was pacing the floor impatiently, muttering angrily to himself, for it was apparent that some deeply-laid plan of his was being thwarted by the girl's refusal to conform to his wishes and obtain certain information he was seeking.
The Crown-Prince, when in a foreign country, was never idle. His energy was such that he was ever on the move, with eyes and ears always open to learn whatever he could. Hence it was at two o'clock that afternoon Knof brought round a big grey open car, and in it I sat beside the Emperor's son while we were driven around the defences of Plymouth, just as on previous occasions we had inspected those of Portsmouth and of Dover.
On the following Thursday evening we had returned to London, and the Crown-Prince, without telling me where he was going, left the Ritz Hotel, merely explaining that he might not be back till midnight. It was on that occasion, my dear Le Queux, you will remember, that I dined with you at the Devonshire Club, and we afterwards spent a pleasant evening together at the "Empire."
I merely told you that His Highness was out at dinner with a friend. You were, naturally, inquisitive, but I did not satisfy your curiosity. Secrecy was my duty.
On returning to the hotel I found the Crown-Prince arranging with Knof a motor run along the Surrey hills on the following day. He had a large map spread before him—a German military map, the curious marks upon which would have no doubt astonished any of your War Office officials. The map indicated certain spots which had been secretly prepared by Germany in view of the projected invasion.
To those spots we motored on the following day. His Imperial Highness, at the instigation of the Emperor, actually made a tour of inspection of those cunningly-concealed points of vantage which the Imperial General Staff had, with their marvellous forethought and bold enterprise, already prepared right beneath the very nose of the sleeping British lion.
From the Crown-Prince's jaunty manner and good spirits I felt assured that by the subtle persuasive powers he possessed towards women—nearly all of whom admired his corseted figure and his gay nonchalance—he had brought the mysterious Miss King into line with his own cunningly-conceived plans—whatever they might be.
We lunched at the Burford Bridge Hotel, that pretty old-fashioned house beneath Box Hill, not far from Dorking.
After our meal in the long public room, newlybuilt as an annexe, we strolled into the grounds for a smoke.
"Well, Heltzendorff," he said presently, as we strolled together along the gravelled walks, "we will return to the Continent to-morrow. Our visit has not been altogether abortive. We will remain a few days in Ostend, before we return to Potsdam."
Next afternoon we had taken up our quarters at a small but very select hotel on the Digue at Ostend, a place called the "Beau Séjour." It was patronized by old-fashioned folk, and "Herr Richter" was well known there. There may have been some who suspected that Richter was not the visitor's real name, but they were few, and it always surprised me how well the Crown-Prince succeeded in preserving his incognito—though, of course, the authorities knew of the Imperial visit.
Whenever "Willie" went to Ostend his conduct became anything but that of the exemplary husband. Ostend in the season was assuredly a gay place, and the Crown-Prince had a small and select coterie of friends there who drank, gambled and enjoyed themselves even more than they did at Nice in winter.
But his mind was always obsessed by the coming war. Indeed, on that very evening of our arrival, as we strolled along the gaily-illuminated Digue towards the big, bright Kursaal, he turned to me suddenly and said:
"When the hour comes, and Prussia in her greatness strikes them, this place will soon become German territory. I shall make that building yonder my headquarters," and he jerked his thumb in the direction of the summer palace of the King of the Belgians.
The following day, about three o'clock, while the Crown-Prince was carelessly going through some letters brought by courier from Potsdam, a waiter came to me with a message that a Miss King desired to see Mr. Richter.
In surprise I received her, welcoming her to Ostend. From the neat dress of the pretty English girl I concluded that she had just crossed from Dover, and she seemed most anxious to see His Highness. I noted, too, that she still wore the beautiful golden butterfly.
When I entered his room to announce her his slant brows knit, and his thin lips compressed.
"H'm! More trouble for us, Heltzendorff, I suppose!" he whispered beneath his breath. "Very well, show her in."
The fair visitor was in the room for a long time—indeed, for over an hour. Their voices were raised, and now and then, curiously enough, I received the impression that, whatever might have been the argument, the pretty girl had gained her own point, for when she came out she smiled at me in triumph, and walked straight forth and down the stairs.
The Crown-Prince threw himself into a big arm-chair in undisguised dissatisfaction. Towards me he never wore a mask, though, like his father, he invariably did so in the presence of strangers.
"Those accursed women!" he cried. "Ah! Heltzendorff, when a woman is in love she will defy even Satan himself! And yet they are fools, these women, for they are in ignorance of the irresistible power of our Imperial house. The enemies of the Hohenzollerns are as a cloud of gnats on a summer's night. The dew comes, and they are no more. It is a pity," he added, with a sigh of regret. "But those who are either conscientious or defiant must suffer. Has not one of our greatest German philosophers written: 'It is no use breathing against the wind'?"
"True," I said. Then, hoping to learn something further, I added: "Surely it is a nuisance to be followed and worried by that little English girl!"
"Worried! Yes. You are quite right, my dear Heltzendorff," he said. "But I do not mind worry,if it is in the interests of Prussia, and of our House of Hohenzollern. I admit the girl, though distinctly pretty, is a most irritating person. She does not appeal to me, but I am compelled to humour her, because I have a certain object in view."
I could not go further, or I might have betrayed the knowledge I had gained by eavesdropping.
"I was surprised that she should turn up here, in Ostend," I said.
"I had written to her. I expected her."
"She does not know your real rank or station?"
"No. To her I am merely Herr Emil Richter, whom she first met away in the country. She was a tourist, and I was Captain Emil Richter, of the Prussian Guards. We met while you were away on holiday at Vienna."
I was anxious to learn something about Miss King's brother, but "Willie" was generally discreet, and at that moment unusually so. One fact was plain, however, that some secret report presented to the Emperor had been shown to her. Why? I wondered if His Highness had been successful in coercing her into acting as he desired.
Certainly the girl's attitude as she had left the hotel went to show that, in the contest, she had won by her woman's keen wit and foresight. I recollected, too, that she was British.
A fortnight afterwards we were back again at Potsdam.
About three months passed. The Crown-Prince had accompanied the Emperor to shoot on the Glatzer Gebirge, that wild mountainous district beyond Breslau. For a week we had been staying at a great, high-up, prison-like schloss, the ancestral home of Prince Ludwig Lichtenau, in the Wölfelsgrund.
The Emperor and his suite had left, and our host had been suddenly called to Berlin by telegram, his daughter having been taken ill. Therefore, theCrown-Prince and we of the suite had remained for some further sport.
On the day after the Emperor's departure I spent the afternoon in a small panelled room which overlooked a deep mountain gorge, and which had been given up to me for work. I was busy with correspondence when the courier from Potsdam entered and gave me the battered leather pouch containing the Crown-Prince's letters. Having unlocked it with my key, I found among the correspondence a small square packet addressed to His Imperial Highness, and marked "Private."
Now, fearing bombs or attempts by other means upon his son's precious life, the Emperor had commanded me always to open packets addressed to him. This one, however, being marked "Private," and, moreover, the inscription being in a feminine hand, I decided to await His Highness's return.
When at last he came in, wet and very muddy after a long day's sport, I showed him the packet. With a careless air he said:
"Oh, open it, Heltzendorff. Open all packets, whether marked private or not."
I obeyed, and to my surprise found within the paper a small leather-covered jewel-case, in which, reposing upon a bed of dark blue velvet, was the beautiful ornament which I had admired at the throat of the fair-haired British girl—the golden butterfly.
I handed it to His Highness just as he was taking a cigarette from the box on a side table.
The sight of it electrified him! He held his breath, standing for a few seconds staring wildly at it as though he were gazing upon some hideous spectre, sight of which had frozen his senses.
He stood rigid, his thin countenance as white as paper.
"When did that arrive?" he managed to ask,though in a hoarse voice, which showed how completely sight of it had upset him.
"This afternoon. It was in the courier's pouch from Potsdam."
He had grasped the back of a chair as though to steady himself, and for a few seconds stood there, with his left hand clapped over his eyes, endeavouring to collect his thoughts.
He seemed highly nervous, and at the same time extremely puzzled. Receipt of that unique and beautiful brooch was, I saw, some sign, but of its real significance I remained in entire ignorance.
That it had a serious meaning I quickly realized, for within half an hour the Crown-Prince and myself were in the train on our two-hundred-mile journey back to Berlin.
On arrival His Imperial Highness drove straight to the Berlin Schloss, and there had a long interview with the Emperor. At last I was called into the familiar pale-green room, the Kaiser's private cabinet, and at once saw that something untoward had occurred.
The Emperor's face was dark and thoughtful. Yet another of the black plots of the Hohenzollerns was in process of being carried out! Of that I felt only too confident. The Crown-Prince, in his badly-creased uniform, betraying a long journey—so unlike his usual spick-and-span appearance—stood nervously by as the Kaiser threw himself into his writing-chair with a deep grunt and distinctly evil grace.
"I suppose it must be done," he growled viciously to his son. "Did I not foresee that the girl would constitute a serious menace? When she was in Germany she might easily have been arrested upon some charge and her mouth closed. Bah! our political police service grows worse and worse. We will have it entirely reorganized. The Director, Laubach, is far too sentimental, far too chicken-hearted."
As he spoke he took up his pen and commenced to write rapidly, drawing a deep breath as his quill scratched upon the paper.
"You realize," he exclaimed angrily to his son, taking no notice of my presence there, because I was part and parcel of the great machinery of the Court, "you realize what this order means?" he added, as he appended his signature. "It is a blow struck against our cause—struck by a mere slip of a girl. Think, if the truth came out! Why, all our propaganda in the United States and Britain would be nullified in a single day, and the 'good relations' we are now extending on every hand throughout the world in order to mislead our enemies would be exposed in all their true meaning. We cannot afford that. It would be far cheaper to pay twenty million marks—the annual cost of the whole propaganda in America—than to allow the truth to be known."
Suddenly the Crown-Prince's face brightened, as though he had had some sudden inspiration.
"The truth will not be known, I promise you," he said, with a strange, evil grin. I knew that expression. It meant that he had devised some fresh and devilish plan. "The girl is defiant to-day, but she will not remain so long. I will take your order, but I may not have occasion to put it in force."
"Ah! You have perhaps devised something—eh? I hope so," said the Emperor. "You are usually ingenious in a crisis. Good! Here is the order; act just as you think fit."
"I was summoned, Your Majesty," I said, in order to remind him of my presence there.
"Ah! Yes. You know this Miss King, do you not?"
"I received her in Plymouth," was my reply.
"Ah! then you will again recognize her. Probably your services may be very urgently required within the next few hours. You may go," and His Majesty curtly dismissed me.
I waited in the corridor until His Imperial Highness came forth. When he did so he looked flushed and seemed agitated.
There had, I knew, occurred a violent scene between father and son, for to me it seemed as though "Willie" had again fallen beneath the influence of a pretty face.
He drove me in the big Mercédès over to Potsdam, where I had a quantity of military documents awaiting attention, and, after a change of clothes, I tackled them.
Yet my mind kept constantly reverting to the mystery surrounding the golden butterfly.
After dinner that night I returned again to my workroom, when, upon my blotting-pad, I found a note addressed to me in the Crown-Prince's sprawling hand.
Opening it, I found that he had scribbled this message:
"I have left. Tell Eckardt not to trouble. Come alone, and meet me to-morrow night at the Palast Hotel, in Hamburg. I shall call at seven o'clock and ask for Herr Richter. I shall also use that name. Tell nobody of my journey, not even the Crown-Princess. Explain that I have gone to Berlin.—Wilhelm, Kronprinz."
"I have left. Tell Eckardt not to trouble. Come alone, and meet me to-morrow night at the Palast Hotel, in Hamburg. I shall call at seven o'clock and ask for Herr Richter. I shall also use that name. Tell nobody of my journey, not even the Crown-Princess. Explain that I have gone to Berlin.—Wilhelm, Kronprinz."
I read the note through a second time, and then burned it.
Next day I arrived at the Palast Hotel, facing the Binnenalster, in Hamburg, giving my name as Herr Richter.
At seven o'clock I awaited His Highness. Eight o'clock came—nine—ten—even eleven—midnight, but, though I sat in the private room I had engaged, no visitor arrived.
Just after twelve, however, a waiter brought up a note addressed to Herr Richter.
Believing it to be meant for me, I opened it. To my great surprise, I found that it was from themysterious Miss King, and evidently intended for the Crown-Prince. It said:
"My brother was released from the Altona Prison this evening—I presume, owing to your intervention—and we are now both safely on our way across to Harwich. You have evidently discovered at last that I am not the helpless girl you believed me to be. When your German police arrested my brother Walter in Bremen as a spy of Britain I think you will admit that they acted very injudiciously, in face of all that my brother and myself know to-day. At Plymouth you demanded, as the price of Walter's liberty, that I should become attached to your secret service in America and betray the man who adopted me and brought me up as his own daughter. But you never dreamed the extent of my knowledge of your country's vile intrigues; you did not know that, through my brother and the man who adopted me as his daughter, I know the full extent of your subtle propaganda. You were, I admit, extremely clever, Herr Richter, and I confess that I was quite charmed when you sent me, as souvenir, that golden butterfly to the hotel in Frankenhausen—that pretty ornament which I returned to you as a mark of my refusal and defiance of the conditions you imposed upon me for the release of my brother from the sentence of fifteen years in a fortress. This time, Herr Richter, a woman wins! Further, I warn you that if you attempt any reprisal my brother will at once expose Germany's machinations abroad. He has, I assure you, many good friends, both in Britain and America. Therefore if you desire silence you will make no effort to trace me further. At Frankenhausen you called me 'the golden-haired butterfly,' but you regarded me merely as a moth! Adieu!"
"My brother was released from the Altona Prison this evening—I presume, owing to your intervention—and we are now both safely on our way across to Harwich. You have evidently discovered at last that I am not the helpless girl you believed me to be. When your German police arrested my brother Walter in Bremen as a spy of Britain I think you will admit that they acted very injudiciously, in face of all that my brother and myself know to-day. At Plymouth you demanded, as the price of Walter's liberty, that I should become attached to your secret service in America and betray the man who adopted me and brought me up as his own daughter. But you never dreamed the extent of my knowledge of your country's vile intrigues; you did not know that, through my brother and the man who adopted me as his daughter, I know the full extent of your subtle propaganda. You were, I admit, extremely clever, Herr Richter, and I confess that I was quite charmed when you sent me, as souvenir, that golden butterfly to the hotel in Frankenhausen—that pretty ornament which I returned to you as a mark of my refusal and defiance of the conditions you imposed upon me for the release of my brother from the sentence of fifteen years in a fortress. This time, Herr Richter, a woman wins! Further, I warn you that if you attempt any reprisal my brother will at once expose Germany's machinations abroad. He has, I assure you, many good friends, both in Britain and America. Therefore if you desire silence you will make no effort to trace me further. At Frankenhausen you called me 'the golden-haired butterfly,' but you regarded me merely as a moth! Adieu!"
Twelve hours later I handed that letter to the Crown-Prince in Potsdam. Where he had been in the meantime I did not know. He read it through; then, with a fierce curse upon his thin, curled lips, he crushed it in his hand and tossed it into the fire.
The Crown-Prince had accompanied the Emperor on board theHohenzollernon his annual cruise up the Norwegian fjords, and the Kaiserin and the Crown-Princess were of the party.
I had been left at home because I had not been feeling well, and with relief had gone south to the Lake of Garda, taking up my quarters in that long, white hotel which faces the blue lake at Gardone-Riviera. A truly beautiful spot, where the gardens of the hotel run down to the lake's edge, with a long veranda covered with trailing roses and geraniums, peaceful indeed after the turmoil and glitter of our Court life in Germany.
One morning at luncheon, however, just as I had seated myself at my table set in the window overlooking the sunlit waters, a tall, rather thin-faced, bald-headed man entered, accompanied by an extremely pretty girl, with very fair hair and eyes of an unusual, child-like blue. The man I judged to be about fifty-five, whose blotchy face marked him as one addicted to strong liquors, and whose dress and bearing proclaimed him to be something of a roué. He walked jauntily to the empty table next mine, while his companion stared vacantly about her as she followed him to the place which the obsequiousmaître d'hôtelhad indicated.
The stranger's eyes were dark, penetrating, and shifty, while there was something about the young girl's demeanour that aroused my interest. Herface, undeniably beautiful, was marred by a stare of complete vacancy. She glanced at me, but I saw that she did not see. It was as though her thoughts were far away, or else that she was under the spell of some weird fascination.
That strange, blank expression in her countenance caused me to watch her. On the one hand, the man had all the appearance of a person who had run the whole gamut of the vices; while the fair-haired, blue-eyed girl was the very incarnation of maiden innocence.
Perhaps it was because I kept my eyes upon her that the dark-eyed man knit his brows and stared at me in defiance. Instinctively I did not like the fellow, for as they started their meal I saw plainly the rough, almost uncouth, manner in which he treated her.
At first I believed that they might be father and daughter, but this suggestion was negatived when, on inquiry at the bureau, I was told that the man was Martinez Aranda, of Seville, and that his companion was his niece, Lola Serrano.
The latter always appeared exquisitely dressed, and the gay young men, Italian officers and others, were all eager to make her acquaintance. Yet it seemed to me that the man Aranda forbade her to speak to anyone. Indeed, I watched the pair closely during the days following, and could plainly discern that the girl went in mortal fear of him.
On the third day, while walking along the terrace facing the lake, I came across the Spaniard, who, in affable mood, started a conversation, and as we leaned upon the stone balustrade, smoking and gossiping, the pretty girl with hair so fair even though she were a Southerner came up, and I was introduced.
She wore a cool white linen gown, a big sun-hat, and carried a pale blue sunshade. But my eye, expert where a woman's gown is concerned, told me that that linen frock was the creation of one of the Parismen-dressmakers, whose lowest charge for such a garment is one thousand francs. Aranda and his pretty niece were certainly persons of considerable means.
"How very beautiful the lake always appears at any hour!" the girl exclaimed in French after her uncle had exchanged cards with me. "Truly Italy is delightful."
"Ah, Mademoiselle," I replied. "But your brilliant Spain is ever attractive."
"You know Spain?" inquired the bald-headed man at once.
"Yes, I know Spain, but only as a spring visitor," was my reply.
And from that conversation there grew in a few days quite an affable friendship. We went together on excursions, all three of us, once by the steamer up to Riva, where on landing and passing through the Customs we sat at the café and sipped that delicious coffee topped by a foam of cream, the same as one got at the "Bristol" in Vienna, or the "Hungaria" in Budapest. Then at evening, while the pretty Lola gossiped with a weedy old Italian Marchioness, whose acquaintance she had made, her uncle played billiards with me, and he was no bad player either!
As soon as the Spaniard learnt of my position as personal-adjutant of His Imperial Highness the Crown-Prince he became immediately interested, as most people were, and plied me with all sorts of questions regarding the truth of certain scandals that were at the moment afloat concerning "Willie." As you know, I am usually pretty discreet. Therefore, I do not think that he learned very much from me.
We were alone in the billiard-room, having a game after luncheon one day, when a curious conversation took place.
"Ah, Count! You must have a very intimate knowledge of life at the Berlin Court," he remarked quite suddenly, in French.
"Yes. But it is a strenuous life, I assure you," I declared, laughing.
"The Crown-Prince sometimes goes abroad incognito," he said, pausing and looking me straight in the face.
"Yes—sometimes," I admitted.
"He was in Rome in the first week of last December. He disappeared from Potsdam, and the Emperor and yourself were extremely anxious as to what had become of him. He had gone to Berlin alone, without any attendant, and completely disappeared. Yet, while you were all making secret inquiries, and fearing lest the truth should leak out to the Press, His Imperial Highness was living as plain Herr Wilhelm Nebelthau in an apartment at Number Seventeen, Lungtevere Mellini. Isn't that so?"
I stared agape at the Spaniard.
I thought myself the only person who knew that fact—a fact which the Crown-Prince had revealed to me in the strictest secrecy.
Could this man Martinez Aranda be an agent of police? Yet that seemed quite impossible.
"You appear to have a more intimate knowledge of His Highness's movements than I have myself," I replied, utterly amazed at the extent of the man's information.
His dark, sallow face relaxed into a mysterious smile, and he bent to make another stroke without replying.
"His Highness should be very careful in the concealment of his movements when he is incognito," he remarked presently.
"You met him there, eh?" I asked, eager to ascertain the truth, for that secret visit to Rome had been a most mysterious one, even to me.
"I do not think I need reply to that question," he said. "All I can say is that the Crown-Prince kept rather queer company on that occasion."
Those words only served to confirm my suspicions. Whenever "Willie" disappeared alone from Potsdam I could afterwards always trace the disappearance to hispenchantfor the eternal feminine. How often, indeed, had I been present at scenes between the Crown-Princess and her husband, and how often I had heard the Emperor storm at his son in that high-pitched voice so peculiar to the Hohenzollerns when unduly excited.
The subject soon dropped, but his statements filled me with apprehension. It was quite plain that this well-dressed, bald-headed Spaniard was in possession of some secret of the Crown-Prince's, a secret which had not been revealed to me.
More than once in the course of the next few days, when we were alone together, I endeavoured to learn something of the nature of the secret which took his Highness to the Eternal City, but Aranda was very clever and discreet. In addition, the attitude of the girl Lola became more than ever strange. There was a blank look in those big, beautiful eyes of hers that betrayed something abnormal. But what it was I failed to decide.
One evening after dinner I saw her walking alone in the moonlight along the terrace by the lake, and joined her. So preoccupied she seemed that she scarcely replied to my remarks. Then suddenly she halted, and as though unable to restrain her feelings longer I heard a low sob escape her.
"Mademoiselle, what is the matter?" I asked in French. "Tell me."
"Oh, nothing, Monsieur, nothing," she declared in a low, broken voice. "I—I know I am very foolish, only——"
"Only what? Tell me. That you are in distress I know. Let me assist you."
She shook her handsome head mournfully.
"No, you cannot assist me," she declared in a tone that told me how desperate she had now become."My uncle," she exclaimed, staring straight before her across the moonlit waters, whence the dark mountains rose from the opposite bank. "Count, be careful! Do—my—my uncle."
"I don't understand," I said, standing at her side and gazing at her pale countenance beneath the full light of the moon.
"My uncle—he knows something—be careful—warn the Crown-Prince."
"What does he know?"
"He has never told me."
"Are you in entire ignorance of the reason of the visit of His Highness to Rome? Try and remember all you know," I urged.
The girl put both her palms to her brow, and, shaking her head, said:
"I can remember nothing—nothing—oh! my poor head! Only warn the man who in Rome called himself Herr Nebelthau!"
She spoke in a low, nervous tone, and I could see that she was decidedly hysterical and much unstrung.
"Did you meet Herr Nebelthau?" I asked eagerly.
"Me? Ah, no. But I saw him, though he never saw me."
"But what is the secret that your uncle knows?" I demanded. "If I know, then I can warn the Crown-Prince."
"I do not know," she replied, again shaking her head. "Only—only—well, by some means my uncle knew that you had left Potsdam, and we travelled here on purpose to meet you to obtain from you some facts concerning the Crown-Prince's movements."
"To meet me?" I echoed in surprise. In a moment I saw that Aranda's intentions were evidently evil ones. But just at that juncture the Spaniard came forth in search of his niece.
"Why are you out here?" he asked her gruffly. "Go in. It is too cold for you."
"I came out with the Count to see the glorious panorama of the lake," explained the girl in strange humbleness, and then, turning reluctantly, she obeyed him.
"Come and have a hand at bridge," her uncle urged cheerfully. "The Signora Montalto and young Boileau are ready to make up the four."
To this I agreed, and we followed the girl into the big, white-panelled lounge of the hotel.
Two days later, about four o'clock in the afternoon, Aranda received a telegram, and an hour later left with his niece, who, as she parted from me, whispered:
"Warn the Crown-Prince, won't you?"
I promised, and as they drove off to the station I stood waving my hand to the departing visitors.
A week later I had word from Cuxhaven of the arrival of theHohenzollernfrom Trondhjem, and at once returned to the Marmor Palace, where on the night of my arrival the Crown-Prince, wearing his Saxon Uhlan uniform, entered my room, gaily exclaiming:
"Well, Heltzendorff, how are things on the Lake of Garda, eh?"
I briefly explained where I had been, and then, as he lit a cigarette, standing astride near the fireplace, I asked permission to speak upon a confidential matter.
"More trouble, eh?" he asked, with a grin and a shrug of the shoulders.
"I do not know," I said seriously, and then, in brief, I related how the man Aranda had arrived with the girl Lola at the hotel, and what had followed.
As soon as I mentioned the Lungtevere Mellini, that rather aristocratic street, which runs parallel with the Tiber on the outskirts of Rome, His Highness started, his face blanched instantly, and he bit his thin lip.
"Himmel!" he gasped. "The fellow knows that I took the name of Nebelthau! Impossible!"
"But he does," I said quietly. "He is undoubtedly in possession of some secret concerning your visit to Rome last December."
In His Highness's eyes I noticed a keen, desperate expression which I had scarcely ever seen there before.
"You are quite certain of this, Heltzendorff, eh?" he asked. "The man's name is Martinez Aranda?"
"Yes. He says he is from Seville. His niece, Lola Serrano, told me to warn you that he means mischief."
"Who is the girl? Do I know her?"
"No."
"Why does she warn me?"
"I cannot say," was my reply. "As you are aware, I have no knowledge of the nature of Your Highness's visit to Rome. I merely report all that I could gather from the pair, who evidently went to Gardone to meet me."
"Where are they now?"
"In Paris—at the Hotel Terminus, Gare St. Lazare. I found out that they had taken tickets to Verona and thence to Paris, therefore I telegraphed to my friend Pinaud, of the Sûreté, who quickly found them and reported to me by wire within twenty-four hours."
"H'm! This is serious, Heltzendorff—infernally serious," declared the Crown-Prince, with knit brows, as he commenced to pace the room with his hands clasped behind his back.
Suddenly he halted in front of me and smoothed his hair—a habit of his when perplexed.
"First, the Emperor must know nothing, and the Crown-Princess must be kept in entire ignorance at all costs," he declared. "I can now foresee a great amount of trouble. Curse the women! I trusted one, and she—ah! I can see it all now."
"Is it very serious?" I asked, still anxious to glean the truth.
"Serious!" he cried, staring at me wildly. "Serious! Why, Heltzendorff, it means everything to me—everything!"
The Crown-Prince was not the kind of man to exhibit fear. Though degenerate in every sense of the word, and without the slightest idea of moral obligations, yet he was, nevertheless, utterly oblivious to danger of any sort, being wildly reckless, with an entire disregard of consequences. Here, however, he saw that the secret, which he had fondly believed to be his alone, was known to this mysterious Spaniard.
"I cannot understand why this girl, Lola—or whatever she calls herself—should warn me. I wonder who she is. What is she like?"
I described her as minutely as I could, more especially the unusual fairness of her hair, and the large, wide-open, blue eyes. She had a tiny mole upon her chin, a little to the left.
The description seemed to recall some memory, for suddenly he exclaimed:
"Really, the girl you describe is very like one that I met about a year ago—a thief-girl in the Montmartre, in Paris, called Lizette Sabin. I came across her one night in one of the cabarets."
As he spoke he went across to a big antique chest of drawers, one of which he unlocked with his key, and after a long search he drew out a cabinet photograph and handed it to me.
I started. It was a picture of the pretty Lola!
He watched my face, and saw that I recognized it.
Then he drew a long sigh, tossed his cigarette away savagely, and throwing back the photograph into the drawer, relocked it.
"Yes," he declared, turning to me again. "The situation is most abnormally disturbing, Heltzendorff. A storm is brewing, without a doubt. But the Emperor must know nothing, remember—notthe slightest suspicion. Ah! What an infernal fool I was to believe in that woman. Bah! They are all alike. And yet——" and he paused—"and yet if it were not for the petticoat Germany's secret diplomacy—the preparation for the great 'Day' when we shall stagger the world—could not proceed. This, my dear Heltzendorff, has shown me that you may with advantage use a woman of whatever age as your catspaw, your secret agent, your bait when angling for important information, or your go-between in secret transactions; but never trust one with knowledge of your own personal affairs."
"Then I take it that this girl-thief of the Montmartre whom you met when out for an evening's amusement is the cause of all this trouble? And yet she said that she did not know you!"
"Because it was to her advantage to disclaim knowledge of me. Personally I do not think that the pretty Lizette is my enemy or she would not warn me against this infernal Spaniard, whoever he may be."
"If the matter is so serious, had I not better go to Paris to-morrow and see Pinaud?" I suggested.
"Excellent!" he exclaimed. "Watch must be kept upon them. The one thing to bear in mind, however, is that neither the Emperor nor my wife learn anything. Go to Paris to-morrow, and tell Pinaud from me to do his best on my behalf."
Next morning I left for Paris, and on arrival spent half an hour with Georges Pinaud in his room at the Sûreté.
"So His Imperial Highness does not wish the arrest of the girl Lizette Sabin?" he exclaimed presently. "I have herdossierhere," and he indicated a cardboard portfolio before him. "It is a pretty bad one. Her last sentence was one of twelve months for robbing an English baronet at a dancing-hall in the Rue du Bac."
"His Highness does not wish for her arrest. Heonly desires the pair to be kept under close observation."
"The man Aranda is, I have discovered, a dangerous person," said the famous detective, leaning back in his chair. "He has served a sentence at Cayenne for the attempted murder of a woman in Lyons. He is, of course, an adventurer of the most expert type."
I longed to reveal to my friend Pinaud the whole facts, but this was against my instructions. I merely asked him as a favour to institute a strict vigilance upon the pair, and to report to me by telegraph if either of them left Paris.
Aranda was still living at the Hotel Terminus, but the pretty Lizette had gone to stay with two girl friends, professional dancers, who lived on the third floor of a house half-way up the Rue Blanche. So having discharged my mission, I returned on the following day to Potsdam, where, on meeting me, the Crown-Prince seemed much relieved.
His only fear—and it was a very serious one—was that to the Emperor there might be revealed the reason of that secret visit of his to Italy. I confess that I myself began to regard that visit with considerable suspicion. Its nature must have been, to say the least, unusual if he had been so aghast at the real truth being discovered.
In the strenuous days that followed, weeks, indeed, I frequently reflected, and found myself much mystified. More than once His Highness had asked me: "Any news from Pinaud?" And when I replied in the negative "Willie's" relief was at once apparent.
One day I had been lunching in Berlin at the "Bristol," in Unter den Linden, at a big party given by the Baroness von Bülow. Among the dozen or so present were Von Ruxeben, the Grand Marshal of the Court of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha; Gertrud, Baroness von Wangenheim, Grand Mistress of the Court of theDuchess; the Minister Dr. Rasch; and, of course, old "Uncle" Zeppelin, full of plans, as always, of new airships and of the destruction of London. Indeed, he sat next me, and bored me to death with his assurances that on "The Day" he would in twenty-four hours lay London in ruins.
The guests around the table, a gay and clever circle, saw that "Uncle" had button-holed me, and knew from my face how utterly bored I was. Truth to tell, I was much relieved when suddenly, when the meal was nearly over, a waiter whispered that somebody wished to see me out in the lounge.
It was a messenger from Potsdam with a telegram that had come over the private wire. It read: "Aranda left Paris two days ago. Destination unknown.—Pinaud."
The information showed that the fellow had cleverly evaded the agents of the Sûreté, a very difficult feat in such circumstances. That very fact went to prove that he was a cunning and elusive person.
Half an hour later I was sitting with Heinrich Wesener, Assistant-Director of the Secret Service of the General Staff. I sought him in preference to the famous detective, Schunke, because, while matters passing through the Secret Service Bureau were always regarded as confidential, those submitted to the Berlin police were known to many subordinates who had access to thedossiersand informations.
I told Wesener but little—merely that His Imperial Highness the Crown-Prince was desirous of knowing at the earliest moment if a Spaniard named Martinez Aranda should arrive in Berlin.
The curiosity of the Assistant-Director was immediately aroused. So many scandals were rife regarding "Willie" that the stout, fair-haired official was hoping to obtain some further details.
"Excuse me for a moment," he said, and, after ringing his bell, a clerk appeared. To the man he gave orders to go across and inspect the police registerof strangers, and ascertain if the man Aranda had arrived in the capital.
Ten minutes later the clerk returned, saying that a Spaniard named Aranda had arrived from Paris early that morning with a young lady named Sabin, and that they were staying at the Central Hotel, opposite the Friedrich-Strasse Station.
Upon this information I went to the "Central," and from the hall-porter discovered that Aranda had left the hotel an hour before, but that his supposed niece was upstairs in her room.
Afterwards I hurried back to Potsdam as quickly as possible, only to find that the Crown-Prince was out with Knof motoring somewhere. Of the Crown-Princess I inquired whither he had gone, but, as usual, she had no idea. "Willie" was ever erratic, and ever on the move.
Six o'clock had already struck when he returned, and the sentry informed him that I was extremely anxious to see him. Therefore, without removing his coat, he ascended to my room, where he burst in breezily.
When I told him what I had discovered in Berlin the light died instantly out of his face.
"Is the fellow really here, Heltzendorff?" he gasped. "I had a letter from him a week ago declaring his intention to come here."
"You did not reply, I hope?"
"No. The letter I found upon my dressing-table, but I have not discovered who placed it there," he said. "The fellow evidently intends to carry out his threat and expose me to the Emperor."
"What can he expose?" I queried.