The Great Impersonation, E. Phillips Oppenheim [finding audrey TXT] 📗

and wise counsellors, but no one knows their varying views. All that one learns is the result, spoken through the lips of the Kaiser, spoken once and for all.”

Dominey was showing signs of a rare interest in his companion’s conversation. His eyes were bright, his usually impassive features seemed to have become more mobile and strained. He laid his hand on Seaman’s arm.

“Listen,” he said, “we are in London, alone in a taxicab, secure against any possible eavesdropping. You preach the advantage of our Kaiser-led country. Do you really believe that the Kaiser is the man for the task which is coming?”

Seaman’s narrow eyes glittered. He looked at his companion in satisfaction. His forehead was puckered, his eternal smile gone. He was the man of intellect.

“So you are waking up from the lethargy of Africa, my friend!” he exclaimed. “You are beginning to think. As you ask me, so shall I answer. The Kaiser is a vain, bombastic dreamer, the greatest egotist who ever lived, with a diseased personality, a ceaseless craving for the limelight. But he has also the genius for government. I mean this: he is a splendid medium for the expression of the brain power of his counsellors. Their words will pass through his personality, and he will believe them his. What is more, they will sound like his. He will see himself the knight in shining armour. All Europe will bow down before this self-imagined Caesar, and no one except we who are behind will realise the ass’s head. There is no one else in this world whom I have ever met so well fitted to lead our great nation on to the destiny she deserves.⁠—And now, my friend, tomorrow, if you like, we will speak of these matters again. Tonight, you have other things to think about. You are going into the great places where I never penetrate. You have an hour to change and prepare. At eleven o’clock the Prince Von Terniloff will expect you.”

VII

There had been a dinner party and a very small reception afterwards at the great Embassy in Carlton House Terrace. The Ambassador, Prince Terniloff, was bidding farewell to his wife’s cousin, the Princess Eiderstrom, the last of his guests. She drew him on one side for a moment.

“Your Excellency,” she said, “I have been hoping for a word with you all the evening.”

“And I with you, dear Stephanie,” he answered. “It is very early. Let us sit down for a moment.”

He led her towards a settee but she shook her head.

“You have an appointment at half-past eleven,” she said. “I wish you to keep it.”

“You know, then?”

“I lunched today at the Carleton grill room. In the reception-room I came face to face with Leopold Von Ragastein.”

The Ambassador made no remark. It seemed to be his wish to hear first all that his companion had to say. After a moment’s pause she continued:

“I spoke to him, and he denied himself. To me! I think that those were the most terrible seconds of my life. I have never suffered more. I shall never suffer so much again.”

“It was most unfortunate,” the Prince murmured sympathetically.

“This evening,” she went on, “I received a visit from a man whom I took at first to be an insignificant member of the German bourgeoisie. I learnt something of his true position later. He came to me to explain that Leopold was engaged in this country on secret service, that he was passing under the name which he gave me⁠—Sir Everard Dominey, an English baronet, long lost in Africa. You know of this?”

“I know that tonight I am receiving a visit from Sir Everard Dominey.”

“He is to work under your auspices?”

“By no means,” the Prince rejoined warmly. “I am not favourably inclined towards this network of espionage. The school of diplomacy in which I have been brought up tries to work without such ignoble means.”

“One realises that,” she said. “Leopold is coming, however, tonight, to pay his respects to you.”

“He is waiting for me now in my study,” the Ambassador asserted.

“You will do me the service of conveying to him a message from me,” she continued. “This man Seaman pointed out to me the unwisdom of any association between myself and Leopold, under present conditions. I listened to all that he had to say. I reserved my decision. I have now considered the matter. I will compromise with necessity. I will be content with the acquaintance of Sir Everard Dominey, but that I will have.”

“For myself,” the Ambassador reflected, “I do not even know what Von Ragastein’s mission over here is, but if in Berlin they decide that, for the more complete preservation of his incognito, association between you and him is undesirable⁠—”

She laid her fingers upon his arm.

“Stop!” she ordered. “I am not of Berlin. I am not a German. I am not even an Austrian. I am Hungarian, and though I am willing to study your interests, I am not willing to place them before my own life. I make terms, but I do not surrender. Those terms I will discuss with Leopold. Ah, be kind to me!” she went on, with a sudden change of voice. “Since these few minutes at midday I have lived in a dream. Only one thing can quiet me. I must speak to him. I must decide with him what I will do. You will help?”

“An acquaintance between you and Sir Everard Dominey,” he admitted, “is certainly a perfectly natural thing.”

“Look at me,” she begged.

He turned and looked into her face. Underneath her beautiful eyes were dark lines; there was something pitiful about the curve of her mouth. He remembered that although she had carried herself throughout the evening with all the dignity which was second nature to her, he had overheard more than one sympathetic comment upon her appearance.

“I can see that you are suffering,” he remarked kindly.

“My eyes are hot, and inside I am on fire,” she continued. “I must speak to