The Second Seal

by Dennis Wheatley

  It had long been a deliberate policy with Sir Pellinore to pose as an almost childishly simple person, whereas, in fact, behind the façade of his bluff, hearty manner, he concealed one of the shrewdest minds in the British Empire. As a cavalry subaltern he had earned a particularly well-merited V.C. in the South African war, but shortly afterwards an accumulation of debts had decided him to resign his commission rather than sell his ancient patrimony, Gwaine Meads; a property on the Welsh border that his forebears had enjoyed since the Wars of the Roses. Soley on account of his being distantly connected with royalty, and having from his youth upwards known everyone who mattered by their Christian name, some people in the City had then offered him a directorship. To their surprise, he had displayed a quite unexpected interest in commerce and an even more astonishing flair for negotiating successfully extremely tricky deals. Other directorships followed. He was now, at forty-three, very rich, and had recently had acquired a great mansion in Carlton House Terrace. In spite of that, by the constant repetition which is the essence of effective propaganda, he had managed, with all but those who knew him fairly intimately, to maintain the bluff that he was only a simpleton, who had had the luck to bring off a few big financial coups.

  “Perhaps I am mistaken about the part you played at that munitions conference,” de Richleau rejoined tactfully, “but I am certain it was there we saw one another.”

  “Oh, I was there right enough;” Sir Pellinore shrugged. “Went to Turkey to buy a few brood mares from the Sultan’s stable. Got roped in at the Embassy one night to say a few home truths to the Turks, which our Ambassador didn’t want to say himself. By the by, what’s your name?”

  “Jean Armand Duplessis de Richleau.”

  “Then you must be the feller who shot a lot of policemen and got chivied out of France about ten years ago. Well, no harm in that! I’ve shot a good few men myself in my time. Glad to know you, Duke.” Sir Pellinore waved a hand the size of a small leg of mutton towards his stocky companion. “D’you know—” Pulling himself up, he added after a second: “Forgot we are all supposed to be incognito here; I’d better give him a nickname—Mr. Marlborough?”

  De Richleau had already recognised the statesman, and smiled. “I count the introduction a most fortunate one, in view of my reason for coming to England.”

  “In what way can I be of service to you?” the First Lord inquired courteously.

  “As the head of the Senior British Service Ministry you could, sir, if you would be so kind, greatly facilitate my receiving a commission in the British Army.”

  Mr. Marlborough’s eyebrows lifted. “If I may say so, Duke, that seems a somewhat strange request, particularly from a foreigner.”

  “On the contrary; I am a British citisen. I took out naturalisation papers shortly after my expulsion from France.”

  “But, your age! I judge you to be over thirty; and only in very exceptional circumstances are candidates allowed to sit for Sandhurst after they are seventeen.”

  De Richleau laughed. “In my case such a formality would be little short of ludicrous. I received the equivalent training at St. Cyr many years ago. I have since fought in several South American wars, and in the Balkan conflict I commanded an Army Corps.”

  “Indeed! Then may I remark that, while you are undoubtedly too old for Sandhurst, you appear remarkably young to be a Lieutenant-General.”

  “And you, sir,” the Duke shot back, “appear remarkably young to be First Lord of the Admiralty.”

  Mr. Marlborough was then only thirty-nine, and although he had already been a member of the government for several years his natural modesty had in no way suffered from his spectacular rise to high office. It was clear from his smile that he appreciated the implied compliment, as de Richleau went on:

  “I will frankly confess that mine was not the best of Army Corps. Its actual strength was little more than that of a British division, and it was sadly lacking in both specialists and the auxiliary arms which count for so much in modern war. But I have hopes that my past rank and experience may at least be considered sufficient to obtain me the command of a Brigade, or an equivalent rank on the British General Staff.”

  The First Lord shook his head. “I am sorry to disappoint you, Duke, but I fear that is quite out of the question. I am, of course, aware that in a number of Continental armies the practice is still followed of granting immediate field-rank, or even high commands, to gifted soldiers of fortune, who have seen active service under other flags; but that custom has long since been abolished here.”

  “What’s the idea, though?” Sir Pellinore inquired brusquely. “I’ve nothing against the army, mind you. Soldier once myself. But we’ve no war on our hands yet, thank God! It ain’t natural for a young spark like you, who goes around kissin’ Archduchesses, to want to spend the rest of his life kickin’ his heels on the barrack squares of our garrison towns.”

  “No,” agreed the Duke, “Britain has no war on her hands yet, but in my opinion she soon will have. It is my belief that the general conflict, which for some years has threatened to engulf Europe, cannot be postponed much longer. When that day comes, since I am debarred from fighting for the country of my birth, I wish to fight for the country of my adoption. I arrived in England yesterday, with the hope that I should be in ample time to make arrangements which would ensure my being in a post suited to my abilities when war breaks out.”

  “I heartily commend your attitude, sir,” Mr. Marlborough commented. “But pray tell me why you believe that a general conflagration is imminent, or even inevitable. In 1908, and again in 1911, I had the gravest fears of such a catastrophe myself; but most well-informed people are of the opinion that the danger is now past, or at least considerably lessened. At no time in recent years have the great nations shown such accord as at the present.”

  All de Richleau knew of the statesman was that his personal daring, coupled with his distinguished parentage, had, while he was still quite a young man, brought him into national prominence as a soldier, war correspondent, and politician; and that his swift rise to office was said to be due to his amazingly clear grasp of great issues. The opinion of such a man must obviously be well grounded, and, as it was directly contrary to the Duke’s own, he said with some diffidence:

  “It is a considerable time, sir, since I was in any of the western capitals, and much may have happened in them of which I am not aware. But what you say surprises me greatly; and, if you can spare the time, I should be immensely interested to hear on what you base your views.”

  There was nothing the First Lord loved better than such discussions, so he replied at once: “By all means, Duke. Then you shall tell us why you disagree. But if we are going to unroll the map of Europe, we might as well sit down.”

  Sir Pellinore disappeared for a moment to fetch an odd chair from farther down the alleyway. Mr. Marlborough lit a fresh cigar and then began:

  “To assess the chances of war breaking out in the near future we must go back some way. Towards the end of the last century the five great nations of Europe—Britain, France, Russia, Austria-Hungary, and Germany—stood apart. Any of them could have attacked one of the others with a fair prospect of the remaining three standing by as on-lookers. The first four had for several centuries been powers of the first rank, whereas Imperial Germany was a new creation. As long as she had remained a chequerboard of independent states, one could be played off against another, and there was naught to be feared from the loosely-knit Teutonic family. But the Napoleonic wars sowed the seeds of combination. What the Zoll-Verein began, Bismarck completed with fire and sword in the wars against Denmark, Austria and France of the ’sixties and ’seventies, culminating in the hour of final victory with the proclamation at Versailles of the German Empire.

  “The ample evidence of the rise of a new great power could not be disregarded by the rest so, henceforth, it became the practice of the others to call Germany into consultation on all questions affecting the maintenance of peace and wel
l-being, not only in Europe but wherever her interests might be affected throughout the world.”

  As his cigar was not properly alight, the statesman applied another match to it before continuing: “That policy was followed when we entered into an agreement with the French that, broadly speaking, we would give them a free hand in Morocco and they would do the same for us in Egypt. Officially, Germany gave that understanding her blessing; and indeed it was in no way prejudicial to her. But in Berlin there was already a very active party who were clamouring for German expansion overseas. Temporarily, they had been overruled, but they determined to take the first opportunity to provoke an incident.

  “Early in 1905 the French sent a mission to Morocco. It acted in such a high-handed manner as to indicate an intention to treat the country as a French Protectorate, which would have been contrary to international obligations entered into by the Treaty of Madrid. The German expansionists saw thair chance and brought pressure to bear on the Kaiser. Wilhelm II’s vanity unfortunately rendered him a pliant tool. In March of that year he was persuaded to visit Tangiers, and while there deliver a speech which amounted to an open challenge to the French. This was followed by a formal demand from the German Government for a new conference by all the powers who had signed the Madrid Treaty.

  “At first, the French refused; but the French army was in poor shape and the country in no condition to go to war; while Russia, who might have backed France in other circumstances, had been rendered temporarily impotent through her recent war with Japan. Ultimately, the French climbed down and agreed to the conference of Algeciras. They could not do otherwise; and in the event, British backing enabled them to more or less save face. But for several months it was ‘touch and go’, and the uncompromising attitude of the Germans caused both France and Britain to see the red light.

  “Out of this incident were born three trends of great significance. Firstly, the French humiliation resulted in such a popular outcry that greater funds were voted for the army. Important measures were taken for its reorganisation and expansion; and, slowly but surely, France began to prepare to face another war. Secondly, at the conference Germany had not received by any means the full support she had expected from Austria-Hungary. In consequence, from then onwards, she proceeded to court her numerically powerful neighbour, and has since succeeded in binding the Dual Monarchy closely to her. Thirdly, Britain gave a fresh turn to her age-old policy. France having now clearly become the second strongest nation in Europe, we aligned ourselves with her against the strongest, Germany, in order to maintain the balance of power. Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman was then Prime Minister. He had inherited Gladstone’s mantle as the leader of the Little Englanders, so was pledged to a policy of reduction of armaments and the avoidance of embroilment in foreign wars at almost any cost. But, so strongly did he feel the danger, that he gave permission for the British General Staff to enter into conversation with the French.”

  Mr. Marlborough paused impressively. “That was a momentous step. And you will realise from what I have said, that from the Algeciras conference of 1906 the great nations of Europe no longer stood alone. They began to coalesce into the two groups that we now know as the Triple Alliance and the Triple Entente.

  “The next European crisis arose in the autumn of 1908. By the Treaty of Berlin, which was signed in 1878, Austria-Hungary had been awarded a mandate of administration over the old Turkish provinces of Bosnia and Herzegovina. You will recall that the Young Turk revolution occurred in the summer of 1908. Presumably the Dual Monarchy feared that this might lead to a demand from Constantinople for a reassertion of Turkish sovereignty over the two provinces, and she acted to forestall some move of that kind. In any case, without the least warning, the following autumn she formally announced the annexation of these territories.”

  De Richleau nodded. “I well recall that episode, sir. But please go on.”

  “You will remember, then, that the great democracies showed instant indignation at this flagrant violation of the law of nations. The Czar’s government even took stronger exception to the act. The Turks retaliated by placing an embargo on Austrian goods, and the Serbians went to the length of mobilising their army. As the population of the provinces contained a high percentage of Serbians, Serbia was the most closely affected; and with her big brother, Russia, behind her, it looked as if at any moment she might declare war.

  “Our Foreign Secretary, Sir Edward Grey, made it clear that Britain was not prepared to go to war over a Balkan quarrel, but he gave Russia full diplomatic support, and both nations demanded a conference. Austria, supported by Germany, refused, and a bitter wrangle ensued which dragged on into the spring of 1909. At length, Austria decided to threaten the Serbs with hostilities if they persisted in their refusal to recognise the annexations. At this point Germany secretly intervened. She insisted that Russia should herself advise the Serbs to give way, and do so without first informing the British and French governments. Should she refuse, Austria would declare war on Serbia with full German support. That was tantamount to a declaration that both countries would attack Russia, and under the threat Russia collapsed. It was another triumph for the German mailed fist; but that, too, had its repercussions. Russia, in her turn, saw the red light.

  “Humbled, as France had been humbled four years before, she at once began to make great increases in her armaments, and to construct a new strategic railway system on her western frontier. Moreover, the humiliation they had both suffered drew the two countries much more closely together, and from that point their alliance became firm and dependable.

  “Next, it was Britain’s turn. We were not called on to swallow our pride or fight on some definite issue, as the others had been. The German menace for us became apparent in another direction. The Kaiser’s Naval Laws of 1908 were by then naturally increasing the strength of his High Seas Fleet. Why? Germany had no far-flung possessions of great worth that she might be called on to defend. Her fleet increases could only be aimed at us. Despite our government’s policy of retrenchment, we were faced with the alternative—build more Dreadnoughts or rue the day when Britain would no longer command the seas. The latter was unthinkable so, build we did; and the naval race began. We, too, saw the red light, awoke from our lethargy, and while still at peace poured out the millions which now could enable us to meet the German Fleet with overwhelming strength.

  “The Agadir episode comes next on the list, but the crisis of 1911 is too recent for me to need to dwell upon it at any length. It is sufficient to recall that Germany sent a gunboat to Morocco for the ostensible purpose of protecting commercial interests which later proved to be non-existent, and once again threatened France with war. Whether she definitely intended to open hostilities remains in question; but there can be little doubt that Mr. Lloyd George’s speech at the Mansion House averted the danger. Once he had made it plain that if France were attacked Britain would fight beside her, the Germans climbed down. Such a combination was more than they were prepared to tackle, and they in their turn had to eat humble pie.

  “Since that time Germany has not made use of any incident to threaten the peace of Europe. In the disputes which led to the two Balkan wars she might easily have found a pretext to attack her neighbours, had she wished to do so; yet she refrained. I regard that as most significant. Nearly three years have now elapsed since the Agadir crisis, so we at least have some reason to hope that the rebuff she suffered then may have shown her the red light that she has previously displayed to the alarm of other nations.”

  The First Lord’s cigar had gone out again, so he broke off to relight it. Thinking he had finished what he had to say, de Richleau remarked:

  “I have listened to your admirable summary of events with the greatest interest, sir; but I do not find your conclusion based on anything very substantial. Germany’s pacific attitude during the past three years might well be accounted for by her biding her time while she still further increases her armaments; and the fact that she did not de
cide to fight at the time of Agadir is no guarantee that she will not do so when she finds an occasion that suits her better. The German expansionists may be temporarily held in check, but I think it would be most rash to assume that they have abandoned their ambitions.”

  Mr. Marlborough shook his head. “I did not infer that they had, and I regard Agadir only as the possible turning point in the growth of a strong nation from rash youth to responsible manhood. It is much more the general pattern of the events I have just recalled which encourages me to believe that Germany is far less inclined to draw the sword now than she was formerly. As I have pointed out, at the beginning of the century she could have attacked any of the other great powers singly and had a fair chance of overwhelming them in a short, sharp war which would have cost her little. But that is no longer so. Her own blackmailing tactics have awakened her potential enemies to their danger. France has modernised her armies; Russia has enormously increased hers, while adding to their mobility; and Britain now lies secure behind the most powerful fleet she has ever possessed in her long history. More, those same sabre-rattling tactics have driven the three nations into a mighty alliance. If Germany fights one, she must now fight all. Italy’s position in the Mediterranean renders her so vulnerable to sea-power that she would be crazy to join our enemies. That leaves Austria-Hungary, seething with internal race hatreds, as Germany’s only certain ally. Strong as she is, how could she hope to emerge victorious from such a conflict?”

  “I believe,” replied the Duke, “it is generally accepted among the higher General Staff that in the event of war Germany would adopt the Schlieffen plan. If she did, there is a possibility that she might force France to capitulate in six weeks. Russia would then find herself faced with the combined forces of Germany and Austria-Hungary, and she, in her turn, might be defeated.”