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

“I trust, Everard,” he said, raising his voice a little as he turned towards his host, “that you make a point of inculcating the principles of National Service into your tenantry here.”

Dominey’s reply was a little dubious.

“I am afraid they do not take to the idea very kindly in this part of the world,” he confessed. “Purely agricultural districts are always a little difficult.”

“It is your duty as a landowner,” the Duke insisted, “to alter their point of view. There is not the slightest doubt,” he added, looking belligerently over the top of his pince nez at Seaman, who was seated at the opposite side of the table, “that before long we shall find ourselves—and in a shocking state of unpreparedness, mind you—at war with Germany.”

Lady Maddeley, the wife of the Lord Lieutenant, who sat at his side, seemed a little startled. She was probably one of the only people present who was not aware of the Duke’s foible.

“Do you really think so?” she asked. “The Germans seem such civilised people, so peaceful and domestic in their home life, and that sort of thing.”

The Duke groaned. He glanced down the table to be sure that Prince Terniloff was out of hearing.

“My dear Lady Maddeley,” he declared, “Germany is not governed like England. When the war comes, the people will have had nothing to do with it. A great many of them will be just as surprised as you will be, but they will fight all the same.”

Seaman, who had kept silence during the last few moments with great difficulty, now took up the Duke’s challenge.

“Permit me to assure you, madam,” he said, bowing across the table, “that the war with Germany of which the Duke is so afraid will never come. I speak with some amount of knowledge because I am a German by birth, although naturalised in this country. I have as many and as dear friends in Berlin as in London, and with the exception of my recent absence in Africa, where I had the pleasure to meet our host, I spent a great part of my time going back and forth between the two capitals. I have also the honour to be the secretary of a society for the promotion of a better understanding between the citizens of Germany and England.”

“Rubbish!” the Duke exclaimed. “The Germans don’t want a better understanding. They only want to fool us into believing that they do.”

Seaman looked a little pained. He stuck to his guns, however.

“His Grace and I,” he observed, “are old opponents on this subject.”

“We are indeed,” the Duke agreed. “You may be an honest man, Mr. Seaman, but you are a very ignorant one upon this particular topic.”

“You are probably both right in your way,” Dominey intervened, very much in the manner of a well-bred host making his usual effort to smooth over two widely divergent points of view. “There is no doubt a war party in Germany and a peace party, statesmen who place economic progress first, and others who are tainted with a purely military lust for conquest. In this country it is very hard for us to strike a balance between the two.”

Seaman beamed his thanks upon his host.

“I have friends,” he said impressively, “in the very highest circles of Germany, who are continually encouraging my work here, and I have received the benediction of the Kaiser himself upon my efforts to promote a better feeling in this country. And if you will forgive my saying so, Duke, it is such ill- advised and ill-founded statements as you are constantly making about my country which is the only bar to a better understanding between us.”

“I have my views,” the Duke snapped, “and they have become convictions. I shall continue to express them at all times and with all the eloquence at my command.”

The Ambassador, to whom portions of this conversation had now become audible, leaned a little forward in his place.

“Let me speak first as a private individual,” he begged, “and express my well-studied opinion that war between our two countries would be simply race suicide, an indescribable and an abominable crime. Then I will remember what I represent over here, and I will venture to add in my ambassadorial capacity that I come with an absolute and heartfelt mandate of peace. My task over here is to secure and ensure it.”

Caroline flashed a warning glance at her husband.

“How nice of you to be so frank, Prince!” she said. “The Duke sometimes forgets, in the pursuit of his hobby, that a private dinner table is not a platform. I insist upon it that we discuss something of more genuine interest.”

“There isn’t a more vital subject in the world,” the Duke declared, resigning himself, however, to silence.

“We will speak,” the Ambassador suggested, “of the way in which our host brought down those tall pheasants.”

“You will tell me, perhaps,” Seaman suggested to the lady to his right, “how you English women have been able to secure for yourselves so much more liberty than our German wives enjoy?”

“Later on,” Stephanie whispered to her host, with a little tremble in her voice, “I have a surprise for you.”

After dinner, Dominey’s guests passed naturally enough to the relaxations which each preferred. There were two bridge tables, Terniloff and the Cabinet Minister played billiards, and Seaman, with a touch which amazed every one, drew strange music from the yellow keys of the old-fashioned grand piano in the drawing-room. Stephanie and her host made a slow progress through the hall and picture gallery. For some time their conversation was engaged solely with the objects to which Dominey drew his companion’s attention. When they had passed out of possible hearing, however, of any of the other guests, Stephanie’s fingers tightened upon her companion’s arm.

“I wish to speak to you alone,” she said, “without the possibility of any one overhearing.”

Dominey hesitated and looked behind.

“Your guests are well occupied,” she continued a little impatiently, “and in any case I am one of them. I claim your attention.”

Dominey threw open the door of the library and turned on a couple of the electric lights. She made her way to the great open fireplace, on which a log was burning, looked down into the shadows of the room and back again at her host’s face.

“For one moment,” she begged, “turn on all the lights. I wish to be sure that we are alone.”

Dominey did as he was bidden. The furthermost corners of the room, with its many wings of book-filled shelves, were illuminated. She nodded.

“Now turn them all out again except this one,” she directed, “and wheel me up an easy-chair. No, I choose this settee. Please seat yourself by my side.”

“Is this going to be serious?” he asked, with some slight disquietude.

“Serious but wonderful,” she murmured, lifting her eyes to his. “Will you please listen to me, Leopold?”

She was half curled up in a corner of the settee, her head resting slightly upon her long fingers, her brown eyes steadily fixed upon her companion. There was an atmosphere about her of serious yet of tender things. Dominey’s face seemed to fall into more rigid lines as he realised the appeal of her eyes.

“Leopold,” she began, “I left this country a few weeks ago, feeling that you were a brute, determined never to see you again, half inclined to expose you before I went as an impostor and a charlatan. Germany means little to me, and a patriotism which took no account of human obligations left me absolutely unresponsive. I meant to go home and never to return to London. My heart was bruised, and I was very unhappy.”

She paused, but her companion made no sign. She paused for so long, however, that speech became necessary.

“You are speaking, Princess,” he said calmly, “to one who is not present. My name is no longer Leopold.”