Mysterious Mr. Sabin

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

  CHAPTER XXXVII

  FOR A GREAT STAKE

  "GERMANY'S INSULT TO ENGLAND! ENGLAND'S REPLY. MOBILISATION IMMINENT. ARMING OF THE FLEET. WAR ALMOST CERTAIN!"

  Wolfenden, who had bought no paper on his way up from Norfolk, gazedwith something approaching amazement at the huge placards everywheredisplayed along the Strand, thrust into his cab by adventurous newsboys,flaunting upon every lamp-post. He alighted near Trafalgar Square, andpurchased a _Globe_. The actual facts were meagre enough, butsignificant when considered in the light of a few days ago. A vacancyhad occurred upon the throne of one of England's far off dependencies.The British nominee had been insulted in his palace by the Germanconsul--a rival, denounced as rebel by the authorities, had been carriedoff in safety on to a German gunboat, and accorded royal honours. Thething was trivial as it stood, but its importance had been enhanced athousandfold by later news. The German Emperor had sent a telegram,approving his consul's action and forbidding him to recognise the newsovereign. There was no possibility of misinterpreting such an action;it was an overt and deliberate insult, the second within a week.Wolfenden read the news upon the pavements of Pall Mall, jostled fromright to left by hurrying passers by, conscious too, all the while, ofthat subtle sense of excitement which was in the air and was visiblyreflected in the faces of the crowd. He turned into his club, and herehe found even a deeper note of the prevailing fever. Men were gatheredaround the tape in little clusters, listening to the click click of theinstrument, and reading aloud the little items of news as they appeared.There was a burst of applause when the Prime Minister's dignified andperemptory demand for an explanation eked out about four o'clock in theafternoon--an hour later it was rumoured that the German Ambassador hadreceived his papers. The Stock Exchange remained firm--there wasenthusiasm, but no panic. Wolfenden began to wish that he, too, were asoldier, as he passed from one to another of the eager groups of youngmen about his own age, eagerly discussing the chances of the comingcampaign. He walked out into the streets presently, and made his wayboldly down to the house which had been pointed out to him as the townabode of Mr. Sabin and his niece. He found it shut up and apparentlyempty. The servant, who after some time answered his numerous ringings,was, either from design or chance, more than usually stupid. He couldnot tell where Mr. Sabin was or when he would return--he seemed to haveno information whatever as regards the young lady. Wolfenden turned awayin despair and walked slowly back towards Pall Mall. At the bottom ofPiccadilly he stopped for a moment to let a little stream of carriagespass by; he was about to cross the road when a large barouche, with apair of restive horses, again blocked the way. Attracted by an unknowncoronet upon the panel, and the quiet magnificence of the servants'liveries, he glanced curiously at the occupants as the carriage passedhim. It was one of the surprises of his life. The woman nearest to himhe knew well by sight; she was the Duchess de Montegarde, one of therichest and most famous of Frenchwomen--a woman often quoted as exactlytypical of the old French nobility, and who had furthermore gainedfor herself a personal reputation for delicate and aristocraticexclusiveness, not altogether shared by her compeers in English society.By her side--in the seat of honour--was Helene, and opposite to themwas a young man with a dark, fiercely twisted moustache and distinctlyforeign appearance. They passed slowly, and Wolfenden remained upon theedge of the pavement with his eyes fixed upon them.

  He was conscious at once of something about her which seemed strangeto him--some new development. She leaned back in her seat, barelypretending to listen to the young man's conversation, her lips a littlecurled, her own face the very prototype of aristocratic languor! All thelines of race were in her delicately chiselled features; the mere ideaof regarding her as the niece of the unknown Mr. Sabin seemed just thenalmost ridiculous. The carriage went by without her seeing him--sheappeared to have no interest whatever in the passers-by. But Wolfendenremained there without moving until a touch on the arm recalled him tohimself.

  He turned abruptly round, and to his amazement found himself shakinghands vigorously with Densham!

  "Where on earth did you spring from, old chap?" he asked. "Dick saidthat you had gone abroad."

  Densham smiled a little sadly.

  "I was on my way," he said, "when I heard the war rumours. There seemedto be something in it, so I came back as fast as express trains andsteamers would bring me. I only landed in England this morning. I amapplying for the post of correspondent to the _London News_."

  Wolfenden sighed.

  "I would give the world," he said, "for some such excitement as that!"

  Densham drew his hand through Wolfenden's arm.

  "I saw whom you were watching just now," he said. "She is as beautifulas ever!"

  Wolfenden turned suddenly round.

  "Densham," he said, "you know who she is--tell me."

  "Do you mean to say that you have not found out?"

  "I do! I know her better, but still only as Mr. Sabin's niece!"

  Densham was silent for several moments. He felt Wolfenden's fingersgripping his arm nervously.

  "Well, I do not see that I should be betraying any confidence now," hesaid. "The promise I gave was only binding for a short time, and nowthat she is to be seen openly with the Duchess de Montegarde, I supposethe embargo is removed. The young lady is the Princess Helene Francesde Bourbon, and the young man is her betrothed husband, the Prince ofOrtrens!"

  Piccadilly became suddenly a vague and shadowy thoroughfare toWolfenden. He was not quite sure whether his footsteps even reached thepavement. Densham hastened him into the club and, installing him into aneasy chair, called for brandies and soda.

  "Poor old Wolf!" he said softly. "I'm afraid you're like I was--veryhard hit. Here, drink this! I'm beastly sorry I told you, but Icertainly thought that you would have had some idea."

  "I have been a thick-headed idiot!" Wolfenden exclaimed. "There havebeen heaps of things from which I might have guessed something near thetruth, at any rate. What a fool she must have thought me!"

  The two men were silent. Outside in the street there was a rush for aspecial edition, and a half cheer rang in the room. A waiter enteredwith a handful of copies which were instantly seized upon. Wolfendensecured one and read the headings.

  "MOBILIZATION DECLARED. ALL LEAVE CANCELLED. CABINET COUNCIL STILL SITTING."

  "Densham, do you realise that we are really in for war?"

  Densham nodded.

  "I don't think there can be any doubt about it myself. What athunderbolt! By the bye, where is your friend, Mr. Sabin?"

  Wolfenden shook his head.

  "I do not know; I came to London partially to see him. I have an accountto settle when we do meet; at present he has disappeared. Densham!"

  "Well!"

  "If Miss Sabin has become the Princess Helene of Bourbon, who is Mr.Sabin?"

  "I am not sure," Densham answered, "I have been looking into thegenealogy of the family, and if he is really her uncle, there is onlyone man whom he can be--the Duke de Souspennier!"

  "Souspennier! Wasn't he banished from France for something orother--intriguing for the restoration of the Monarchy, I think it was?"

  Densham nodded.

  "Yes, he disappeared at the time of the Commune, and since then he issupposed to have been in Asia somewhere. He has quite a history, Ibelieve, and at different times has been involved in several Europeancomplications. I shouldn't be at all surprised if he isn't our man. Mr.Sabin has rather the look of a man who has travelled in the East, and heis certainly an aristocrat."

  Wolfenden was suddenly thoughtful.

  "Harcutt would be very much interested in this," he declared. "What's upoutside?"

  There had been a crash in the street, and the sound of a horse plunging;the two men walked to the windows. The _debris_ of a hansom was lying inthe road, with one wheel hopelessly smashed, a few yards off. A man,covered with mud, rose slowly up from the wreck. Densham and Wolfendensimultaneously recognised him.
r />   "It is Felix," Wolfenden exclaimed. "Come on!"

  They both hurried out into the street. The driver of the hansom, whoalso was covered with mud, stood talking to Felix while staunching theblood from a wound in his forehead.

  "I'm very sorry, sir," he was saying, "I hope you'll remember as it wasyour orders to risk an accident, sooner than lose sight of t'other gent.Mine's a good 'oss, but what is he against a pair and a light brougham?and Piccadilly ain't the place for a chase of this sort! It'll cost methree pun ten, sir, to say nothing of the wheel----"

  Felix motioned him impatiently to be silent, and thrust a note into hishand.

  "If the damage comes to more than that," he said, "ask for me at theRussian Embassy, and I will pay it. Here is my card."

  Felix was preparing to enter another cab, but Wolfenden laid his handupon his shoulder.

  "Won't you come into my club here, and have a wash?" he suggested. "I amafraid that you have cut your cheek."

  Felix raised his handkerchief to his face, and found it covered withblood.

  "Thank you, Lord Wolfenden," he said, "I should be glad to; you seemdestined always to play the part of the Good Samaritan to me!"

  They both went with him into the lavatory.

  "Do you know," he asked Wolfenden, when he had sponged his face, "whom Iwas following?"

  Wolfenden shook his head.

  "Mr. Sabin?" he suggested.

  "Not Mr. Sabin himself," Felix answered, "but almost the same thing. Itwas Foo Cha, his Chinese servant who has just arrived in England. Haveyou any idea where Mr. Sabin is?"

  They both shook their heads.

  "I do not know," Wolfenden said, "but I am very anxious to find out. Ihave an account to settle with him!"

  "And I," Felix murmured in a low tone, "have a very much longer oneagainst him. To-night, if I am not too late, there will be a balancestruck between us! I have lost Foo Cha, but others, better skilled thanI am, are in search of his master. They will succeed, too! They alwayssucceed. What have you against him, Lord Wolfenden?"

  Wolfenden hesitated; yet why not tell the man the truth? He had nothingto gain by concealment.

  "He forced himself into my father's house in Norfolk and obtained,either by force or craft, some valuable papers. My father was indelicate health, and we fear that the shock will cost him his reason."

  "Do you want to know what they were?" Felix said. "I can tell you! Doyou want to know what he required them for? I can tell you that too! Hehas concocted a marvellous scheme, and if he is left to himself foranother hour or two, he will succeed. But I have no fear; I have setworking a mightier machinery than even he can grapple with!"

  They had walked together into the smoke-room; Felix seemed somewhatshaken and was glad to rest for a few minutes.

  "Has he outstepped the law, been guilty of any crime?" Wolfenden asked;"he is daring enough!"

  Felix laughed shortly. He was lighting a cigarette, but his handtrembled so that he could scarcely hold the match.

  "A further reaching arm than the law," he said, dropping his voice,"more powerful than governments. Even by this time his whereabouts isknown. If we are only in time; that is the only fear."

  "Cannot you tell us," Wolfenden asked, "something of this wonderfulscheme of his--why was he so anxious to get those papers and drawingsfrom my father--to what purpose can he possibly put them?"

  Felix hesitated.

  "Well," he said, "why not? You have a right to know. Understand that Imyself have only the barest outline of it; I will tell you this,however. Mr. Sabin is the Duc de Souspennier, a Frenchman of fabulouswealth, who has played many strange parts in European history. Amongstother of his accomplishments, he is a mechanical and strategical genius.He has studied under Addison in America, one subject only, for threeyears--the destruction of warships and fortifications by electricalcontrivances unknown to the general world. Then he came to England, andcollected a vast amount of information concerning your navy and coastdefences in many different ways--finally he sent a girl to play the partof typist to your father, whom he knew to be the greatest livingauthority upon all naval matters connected with your country. Every linehe wrote was copied and sent to Mr. Sabin, until by some means yourfather's suspicions were aroused, and the girl was dismissed. The lastportion of your father's work consisted of a set of drawings, of nofewer than twenty-seven of England's finest vessels, every one of whichhas a large proportion of defective armour plating, which would renderthe vessels utterly useless in case of war. These drawings show theexact position of the defective plates, and it was to secure theseillustrations that Mr. Sabin paid that daring visit to your father onTuesday morning. Now, what he professes broadly is that he haselaborated a scheme, by means of which, combined with the aid of hisinventions, a few torpedo boats can silence every fort in the Thames,and leave London at the mercy of any invaders. At the same time hisplans include the absolutely safe landing of troops on the east andsouth coast, at certain selected spots. This scheme, together with somevery alarming secret information affecting the great majority of yourbattleships, will, he asserts with absolute confidence, place yourcountry at the mercy of any Power to whom he chooses to sell it. Heoffered it to Russia first, and then to Germany. Germany has acceptedhis terms and will declare war upon England the moment she has his wholescheme and inventions in her possession."

  Wolfenden and Densham looked at one another, partly incredulous, partlyaghast. It was like a page from the Arabian Nights. Surely such a thingas this was not possible. Yet even that short silence was broken by thecry of the newsboys out in the street--

  "GERMANY ARMING! REPORTED DECLARATION OF WAR!"