Her Royal Highness: A Romance of the Chancelleries of Europe

by William Le Queux

the diplomat, soengrossed were they in their conversation. The opportunity of meetingwas, of course, a unique one, for even if her uncle discovered her howcould he reprove her for dancing with a man who had been theirfellow-traveller for nearly three weeks?

  The girl's face was flushed with excitement and pleasure now that shehung upon her lover's arm as he led her back to the ballroom.

  Hubert Waldron watched them, then sighed and turned away.

  He had not gone far up the long _salon_ before he was accosted by arather thick-set, clean-shaven Englishman of about thirty-five, withblue eyes, rather fair hair, and whose clothes fitted perfectly.

  "Hulloa, Waldron! By Jove! Who'd have dreamt of meeting you here!Why, I thought you were still in Madrid!"

  "Jerningham!" gasped the diplomat. "My dear old Jack, how are you?" hecried, grasping his hand warmly.

  "Oh, so-so," replied the other, nonchalantly. "I've been travellingabout a lot of late. And you?"

  "Been on leave up to Wady Haifa, and now on my way back to Madrid."

  "And to the Teatro Real--eh?" added his friend with a sly grin.

  "No. She's in London. An engagement there."

  "And you're not in London! Why?"

  "Can't get my leave extended, or, you bet, I'd be back in town like ashot. What would I give for a bit dinner at the St James's Club and astroll along Piccadilly."

  "Of course. But how's the lady?"

  "Very well--I believe. I had a wire yesterday telling me of her greatsuccess at the Palace. The newspapers are full of her photographs andall that."

  "And all the nuts in town running madly after her--eh? Beatriz likesthat."

  Waldron did not reply for a few moments, then, changing the subject, hesaid:

  "Let's go along to the bar. This crowd is distinctly unpleasant."

  Five minutes later, when the pair were seated in a quiet corner, Waldronasked in a low, confidential tone:

  "What's the latest? I've been away from the Embassy for nine weeks."

  "Oh, the political situation remains about the same. I've been mostlyin Germany and Russia, since I was last in Madrid. I had a rather goodscoop about a fortnight ago--bought the designs of the new Krupp aerialgun."

  "By Jove, did you?"

  "Yes. It has taken me three months to negotiate, and the fellow whomade the deal tried to back out of it at the last moment."

  "Traitors always do," remarked the diplomat.

  "Yes," admitted the British secret-service agent, as Jack Jerninghamactually was. "They usually lose heart at the crucial moment. But inthis case the new invention of our friends is simply a marvellous one.It's a feather in my cap in the department, I'm glad to say."

  "You've had a good many feathers in your cap during the past five years,my dear Jack," Waldron replied. "Your successes since you left the navyhave been phenomenal--especially when a year ago you obtained a copy ofthe secret treaty signed by Austria regarding the partition of theBalkans. That was an amazing feat--never before equalled by any secretagent, I should think."

  "Bah! Nothing really very wonderful," was Jerningham's modest reply."More by good luck than anything else. I'm here in Cairo to report onthe growing unrest. At home the Chief suspects German influence to beat work."

  "And what's the result of your inquiries?"

  "Our friends are, no doubt, at the bottom of it all. Across the NorthSea they mean business; and the `day' must come very soon."

  "You've made that prophecy for several years now."

  "Because I happen to know, my dear boy. If one man should know thetruth, surely it's my unimportant self. My Chief has always agreed withme, although it is the fashion in the House to laugh at what is called`the German bogey.' But that's exactly what they desire in Berlin.They don't want the British public to take our warnings too seriously.But if you doubt the seriousness of the present situation, ask anybodyat the Berlin Embassy. They'll tell you the truth--and they oughtsurely to know."

  Jack Jerningham and Hubert Waldron had been friends ever since theiryouth. The estate near Crowhurst, in Sussex, which Waldron's fatherowned, though his diplomatic duties had kept him nearly always abroad,adjoined that of the Jerninghams of Heatherset, of whom Jack was thesecond son.

  After Dartmouth he had passed into the navy, had become a fulllieutenant, and afterwards had joined the Intelligence Department, inwhich capacity he was constantly travelling about the world as the eyesand ears of the Embassies, and ever ready to purchase out of thesecret-service fund any information or confidential plan which might beadvantageous to the authorities at Whitehall.

  A typical, round-faced, easy-going naval officer of a somewhat carelessand generous disposition, nobody outside the diplomatic circle eversuspected his real calling. But by those who did know, the ambassadors,ministers, and staffs of the embassies and legations, he was held inhighest esteem as a thoroughgoing patriot, a man of great discretion andmarvellous shrewdness, in whom his Chief at home placed the mostcomplete confidence.

  "There'll be trouble here in Cairo before long, I fear," he waswhispering to his friend. "Kitchener will have a very rough time of itif the intrigues of our friends at Berlin are successful. They arestirring up strife every day, and the crisis would have arrived long agowere it not for Kitchener's bold firmness. They know he won't stand anynonsense from the native opposition. Britain is here to rule, and ruleshe will. Hence our friends the enemy are just a little afraid. I'mgoing back home next week to report upon the whole situation."

  "I'm getting pretty, sick of the humdrum of diplomacy," Hubert declaredwearily, between the puffs of his excellent cigarette. Though the bigAmerican bar was crowded by men, in the corner where they sat upon a redplush settee they could not be overheard, the chatter and noise being sogreat. "We at the Embassies are only puppets, after all. It is suchmen as you who shape the nation's policy. We're simply the survival ofthe old days when kings exchanged courtesies and views by means of theirambassadors, and we, the frills of the Embassy, merely dress up, danceattendance at every function, and pretend to an importance in the worldwhich we certainly do not possess."

  "My dear Hubert, you never spoke truer words than those. Everythingnowadays is worked from Downing Street, and the ambassador is simply theoffice boy who delivers the message. Your father was one of thebrilliant men of the old regime. The Empire owes much to him,especially for what he did at Rome."

  "Yes, those days have passed. In this new century the world has otherways and other ideas. It is the age of advertisement, and surely thebest advertisement manager which the world has ever known is the KaiserWilliam."

  "Oh, that's admitted," laughed the secret agent. "Why, he can't go tohis castle at Corfu for a week--as he does each spring--without somewonderful relic of Greek antiquity being unearthed in his presence. Itis whispered that they sow them there in winter, just as the braveBelgians sow the bullets on the battlefield of Waterloo. To-day we areassuredly living on the edge of a volcano," Jerningham went on. "Whenthe eruption takes place--and who knows when it will--then, at thathour, the red-tape must be burst asunder, the veil torn aside, and thebitter truth faced--the bubble of British bombast will, I fear, bepricked."

  "You are always such a confounded pessimist, my dear Jack," laughedWaldron.

  "Ah, Hubert, I'm a pessimist because I am always on the move fromcapital to capital and I learn things as I go," was Jerningham's quickreply. "You fellows at the Embassies sit down and have a jolly goodtime at balls, dinners, tea-fights, and gala performances. Why?Because you're paid for your job--paid to remain ignorant. I'm paid tolearn. There's the little difference."

  "I admit, my dear fellow, that without your service we should bealtogether a back number. To your department is due the credit ofknowing what is going on in the enemy's camps."

  "I should think so. I don't pay out ten thousand a year, more or less,without getting to know something, I can tell you."

  CHAPTER EIGHT.

  THE GREAT GHELARD
I.

  While Waldron and his friend were discussing matters, shouts suddenlyarose everywhere--the golden pig had entered and was being touched forluck by everyone, and men raised their glasses to each other, to wishone another "A Happy New Year." The Christian year had opened, but theEgyptians in fezes only smiled and acknowledged the compliment. Theiryear had not yet commenced.

  "Well," exclaimed Jack Jerningham at last. "You haven't told me muchabout Beatriz."

  "Why should I, my dear fellow, when there's nothing to