E. Phillips Oppenheim - 21 Greatest Spy Thrillers in One Premium Edition (Mystery & Espionage Series)

Anna detached herself from a little group of men at their approach, and Norgate at once introduced his friend.

“I have only been able to induce Mr. Hebblethwaite to talk to me for the last ten minutes,” he declared, “by promising to present him to you.”

“A ceremony which we will take for granted,” she suggested, holding out her fingers. “Each time I have come to London, Mr. Hebblethwaite, I have hoped that I might have this good fortune. You interest us so much on the Continent.”

Mr. Hebblethwaite bowed and looked as though he would have liked the interest to have been a little more personal.

“You see,” Anna explained, as she stood between the two men, “both Austria and Germany, the two countries where I spend most of my time, are almost military ridden. Our great statesmen, or the men who stand behind them, are all soldiers. You represent something wholly different. Your nation is as great and as prosperous as ours, and yet you are a pacifist, are you not, Mr. Hebblethwaite? You scorn any preparations for war. You do not believe in it. You give back the money that we should spend in military or naval preparations to the people, for their betterment. It is very wonderful.”

“We act according to our convictions,” Mr. Hebblethwaite pronounced. “It is our earnest hope that we have risen sufficiently in the scale of civilisation to be able to devote our millions to more moral objects than the massing of armaments.”

“And you have no fears?” she persisted earnestly. “You honestly believe that you are justified in letting the fighting spirit of your people lie dormant?”

“I honestly believe it, Baroness,” Mr. Hebblethwaite replied. “Life is a battle for all of them, but the fighting which we recognise is the fight for moral and commercial supremacy, the lifting of the people by education and strenuous effort to a higher plane of prosperity.”

“Of course,” Anna murmured, “what you say sounds frightfully convincing. History only will tell us whether you are in the right.”

“My thirst,” Mr. Hebblethwaite observed, glancing towards the little tables set out under the trees, “suggests tea and strawberries.”

“If some one hadn’t offered me tea in a moment or two,” Anna declared, “I should have gone back to the Prince, with whom I must confess I was very bored. Shall we discuss politics or talk nonsense?”

“Talk nonsense,” Mr. Hebblethwaite decided. “This is my holiday. My brain has stopped working. I can think of nothing beyond tea and strawberries. We will take that table under the elm trees, and you shall tell us all about Vienna.”

Table of Contents

Norgate, after leaving Anna at her hotel, drove on to the club, where he arrived a few minutes before seven. Selingman was there with Prince Edward, and half a dozen others. Selingman, who happened not to be playing, came over at once and sat by his side on the broad fender.

“You are late, my young friend,” he remarked.

“My new career,” Norgate replied, “makes demands upon me. I can no longer spend the whole afternoon playing bridge. I have been attending to business.”

“It is very good,” Selingman declared amiably. “That is the way I like to hear you talk. To amuse oneself is good, but to work is better still. Have you, by chance, any report to make?”

“I have had a long conversation with Mr. Hebblethwaite at Ranelagh this afternoon,” Norgate announced.

There was a sudden change in Selingman’s expression, a glint of eagerness in his eyes.

“With Hebblethwaite! You have begun well. He is the man above all others of whose views we wish to feel absolutely certain. We know that he is a strong man and a pacifist, but a pacifist to what extent? That is what we wish to be clear about. Now tell me, you spoke to him seriously?”

“Very seriously, indeed,” Norgate assented. “The subject suggested itself naturally, and I contrived to get him to discuss the possibilities of a European war. I posed rather as a pessimist, but he simply jeered at me. He assured me that an earthquake was more probable. I pressed him on the subject of the entente . He spoke of it as a thing of romance and sentiment, having no place in any possible development of the international situation. I put hypothetical cases of a European war before him, but he only scoffed at me. On one point only was he absolutely and entirely firm—under no circumstances whatever would the present Cabinet declare war upon anybody. If the nation found itself face to face with a crisis, the Government would simply choose the most dignified and advantageous solution which embraced peace. In short, there is one thing which you may count upon as absolutely certain. If England goes to war at any time within the next four years, it will be under some other government.”

Selingman was vastly interested. He had drawn very close to Norgate, his pudgy hands stretched out upon his knees. He dropped his voice so that it was audible only a few feet away.

“Let me put an extreme case,” he suggested. “Supposing Russia and Germany were at war, and France, as Russia’s ally, were compelled to mobilise. It would not be a war of Germany’s provocation, but Germany, in self-defence, would be bound to attack France. She might also be compelled by strategic considerations to invade Belgium. What do you think your friend Hebblethwaite would say to that?”

“I am perfectly convinced,” Norgate replied, “that Hebblethwaite would work for peace at any price. The members of our present Government are pacifists, every one of them, with the possible exception of the Secretary of the Admiralty.”

“Ah!” Mr. Selingman murmured. “Mr. Spencer Wyatt! He is the gentleman who clamours so hard and fights so well for his navy estimates. Last time, though, not all his eloquence could prevail. They were cut down almost a half, eh?”

“I believe that was so,” Norgate admitted.

“Mr. Spencer Wyatt, eh?” Selingman continued, his eyes fixed upon the ceiling. “Well, well, one cannot wonder at his attitude. It is not his role to pose as an economist. He is responsible for the navy. Naturally he wants a big navy. I wonder what his influence in the Cabinet really is.”

“As to that,” Norgate observed, “I know no more than the man in the street.”

“Naturally,” Mr. Selingman agreed. “I was thinking to myself.”

There was a brief silence. Norgate glanced around the room.

“I don’t see Mrs. Benedek here this afternoon,” he remarked.

Selingman shook his head solemnly.

“The inquest on the death of that poor fellow Baring is being held to-day,” he explained. “That is why she is staying away. A sad thing that, Norgate—a very sad happening.”

“It was indeed.”

“And mysterious,” Selingman went on. “The man apparently, an hour before, was in high spirits. The special work upon which he was engaged at the Admiralty was almost finished. He had received high praise for his share in it. Every one who had seen him that day spoke of him as in absolutely capital form. Suddenly he whips out a revolver from his desk and shoots himself, and all that any one knows is that he was rung up by some one on the telephone. There’s a puzzle for you, Norgate.”

Norgate made no reply. He felt Selingman’s eyes upon him.

“A wonderful plot for the sensational novelist. To the ordinary human being who knew Baring, there remains a substratum almost of uneasiness. Where did that voice come from that spoke along the wires, and what was its message? Baring, by all accounts, had no secrets in his life. What was the message—a warning or a threat?”

“I did not read the account of the inquest,” Norgate observed. “Wasn’t it possible to trace the person who rang up, through the telephone office?”