Her Royal Highness Part 23

"I appreciate the honour which has been done me," was the astute officer's reply, for he was a brigadier, and a terror to the criminal fraternity in the Eternal City. Having graduated in the underworld of Naples among the Camorra and the Mafia, he had become one of the Questore's right-hand men. "His Majesty knows me," he added, "for I have done duty with him many times on his journeys. I am often told off as his personal guardian."

"In that case then I can rely upon you to treat this matter with the utmost confidence," Hubert remarked, and soon afterwards Peters showed the tall man out.

Time after time Hubert examined the mysterious letter with which Her Highness had entrusted him. Why was Pujalet pa.s.sing in Brussels as a Servian? What secret could that sealed envelope contain which could not be trusted to the post? Ah! if he could only discover it!

"Peters," he said presently, as his man came in to stir the fire, "I may be leaving Rome for a day or two. I may even go to-night. So just pack my small suit-case."

"Yes, sir."

"Stay," he said, and going to a drawer in a small occasional table which was laden with English books and magazines he took out a serviceable-looking Browning pistol, adding: "Just put that in also."

"Very well, sir."

It did not surprise Peters, for his master often took the weapon with him on night journeys upon Continental railways. Indeed in Italy one acquires the habit of carrying a gun.

In the afternoon Hubert strolled, as usual, up the Pincio where he met and greeted many of the great ones in Roman Society, not because he cared for it, but because it was the correct thing to do so, and as diplomat he had to bow always to Society's decree.

He afterwards paid a call upon the Princess Altieri at the great old Grazini Palace, that fine mediaeval palazzo, the chief facades of which, as those who know Rome are aware, are in the Piazza della Valle and the Via del Sudario, that palace designed by the immortal Raphael and erected by Lorenzetto.

Entering the great portals where stood the pompous concierge in c.o.c.ked hat and bearing his silver-headed staff of office, he ascended the great stone staircase at the head of which a flunkey met him and conducted him to the huge gilded _salon_ wherein the Princess Altieri, a diminutive old lady in black, was entertaining a crowd of chattering friends.

After he had bowed over the old lady's hand he glanced around and recognised a number of familiar faces. His own Chief, besides the Russian and French Amba.s.sadors were there, while there were a dozen or so marquises and Counts with their women-folk, a few foreign notables, and a sprinkling of the ornamental men from the Emba.s.sies.

Hubert found himself chatting with Count Niccoli, Colonial Secretary of State, when presently his Chief came up and whispered in his ear: "Waldron, can you be round at the Emba.s.sy in an hour? I want to tell you something."

"Certainly," was the diplomat's reply, and the two men were lost to each other in the crush.

The chatter went on, for the old Princess being highly popular in Rome, many people always came to her weekly receptions. In half a dozen tongues conversation was carried on, and the room with its ancient painted ceiling, its closed windows and high stoves, was unbearably hot.

Indeed, half aristocratic Rome seemed to have dropped in after its sunset airing on the Pincio.

An hour later, however, when Hubert entered the Amba.s.sador's room, his Chief rose from his table with a grave expression upon his pale, refined face.

"Waldron," he said, "I fear the secret of those stolen plans of the frontier fortresses is out."

"The secret out!" gasped the other. "Why--what is known?"

"Look at this!" he said, taking from a drawer a telegram in cipher which was deciphered upon a sheet of paper to which it was pinned. "It came in at three o'clock. Read it."

Waldron scanned it with eager eyes, and saw that the message which had been handed in at Vienna at half-past one was from Lord Ecclesbourne, British Amba.s.sador to Austria, and read:

"From information received through confidential channels it seems that Austria-Hungary is now rapidly and secretly mobilising on the Italian frontier. The Seventh and Eleventh Army Corps are a.s.sembled at Bozen and Klagenfurt respectively. Orders have been sent to the Austrian fleet by wireless from Sebenico, but of these I have no knowledge. The Emperor returned to Vienna last night and a meeting of the War Council was held an hour afterwards at which he was present. Though the newspapers this morning merely announce a series of manoeuvres in the Tyrol, it seems clear that a crisis has occurred and that immediate hostilities against Italy are contemplated. Please regard foregoing as confidential and report back any information which may come to your knowledge. I have to-day sent dispatches by telegram and also by special messenger to London.--Ecclesbourne."

"By Jove! This is extremely serious!" declared Hubert, standing aghast with the dispatch in his hand. "No doubt the truth is out. Have you told them here of this dispatch?"

"Certainly not. The information is ours, and, as you see, it is strictly confidential."

"But surely I may warn His Majesty!"

"No," was the Amba.s.sador's decided reply.

"But are we not a friendly Power?" argued the secretary. "Is it not our duty to tell them what we know?"

"It may be, but I cannot betray what is sent to me as strictly confidential," was His Excellency's response.

"But Lord Ecclesbourne is unaware of the actual truth. If he knew it he certainly would not withhold the information," Hubert argued.

"True. But do you not remember that any information obtained through our Secret Service is strictly confidential, and must not on any pretext be given to a foreign Power?"

"I know that, of course. But such a rule surely cannot apply in such a case as this," urged Waldron impatiently. "We know that the plans have been stolen, and that this hostile movement is the result. We surely ought to warn Italy, so that she is not taken by surprise, which is, no doubt, the intention of her arch-enemy."

"No doubt it is," replied the Amba.s.sador. "And I regret that we cannot break the rule. Indeed, I dare not--without orders from home."

"Those we shall never get, I fear. We cannot explain the facts by wire, and a messenger to Downing Street would take fully three days. Why, in that time the Austrians will be in Venice and Milan!" declared Waldron.

"Can we do nothing to avert this war?" he asked frantically.

"What can we do, my dear fellow? Even if you went to His Majesty I do not see what benefit would accrue."

"It would put the Ministry of War upon its guard."

"They will know. Possibly they know already. Ghelardi is a good watch-dog, and he has his spies in Vienna, just as we have. Probably he knows as much as we do," was the Amba.s.sador's reply as he stood upon the red Turkey hearthrug with folded arms, a fine diamond pin sparkling in his black cravat.

"But can we do nothing--nothing?" cried Waldron in impatience and alarm.

"I promised His Majesty that I would work in the interests of Italy, and if I withhold this fact from him, surely I shall be held culpable!"

"Your first duty is to your own King, Waldron," replied His Excellency very gravely. "To betray information obtained by our Secret Service is, by the regulations, absolutely forbidden, I repeat."

"I know that full well. But in these circ.u.mstances is it not our duty as a friendly Power to place Italy on her guard, and save her from invasion?"

"Our first duty is to observe our own regulations," replied the Amba.s.sador, one of the old red-tape school, who like the ostrich hid his head in the sand and still believed in England as the chief and unconquerable Power among nations.

"And not to observe at the same time our cordial relations with a Power which has, on its own initiative, already given us plans of half a dozen improvements in modern ordnance--plans which we have used to our own advantage."

"Well--if you desire, you are at liberty to send a cipher dispatch to Lord Westmere and try and obtain leave," was the Amba.s.sador's reply. "I can, I regret, give no permission myself."

For some seconds Waldron remained silent. He stood near the window gazing blankly out upon the broad handsome thoroughfare now lit by long rows of electric lights, the fine modern road which led to the Porta Pia.

"Very well," he replied savagely, "I will myself obtain leave from Downing Street," and turning upon his heel, he went away to the chancellerie and there wrote out a telegram which he reduced to cipher by aid of the small blue-covered book which he took from the strong-room, afterwards taking the message himself to the chief telegraph office and dispatching it.

The dispatch was a long one, but it was necessary to give full explanation.

It was then six o'clock by Italian time, or five o'clock in England.

The night express left Rome for Paris at twenty minutes after midnight, and it was his intention to catch it, providing he received a reply in time to have audience with His Majesty prior to leaving.

He dressed and afterwards dined at the Emba.s.sy, as was his habit. Lady Cathcart, with the hauteur of the Amba.s.sador's wife, sat at the head of the table, and several of the staff were present, also two Members of Parliament, men to whom amba.s.sadors always have to be civil. But the meal proved a very dreary one. Both Members--who were quite unimportant persons, and who would never have appeared in "Who's Who" had not their Const.i.tuents placed them there--aired their ideas upon the European situation--ideas which were ridiculous and unsound, though none present were so impolite as to say so.

"Have you sent your dispatch?" asked His Excellency the Amba.s.sador when they were alone together for a few moments after dinner.

"Yes," Waldron replied. "I am expecting permission, and if so I shall have audience at once."