“I have gathered something of the sort,” Norgate admitted. “I know, of course, that she is a personal favourite of the Emperor’s, and persona grata at the Court of Berlin.”
“You have no scruple, then, about marrying a woman who belongs to a certain clique, a certain school of diplomacy which you might, from a superficial point of view, consider inimical to your country’s interests?”
“I have no scruple at all in marrying the Baroness von Haase,” Norgate replied firmly. “As for the rest, you and I have discussed fully the matter of the political relations between our countries. I have shown you practically have I not, what my own views are?”
“That is true, my young friend,” Selingman confessed. “We have spoken together, man to man, heart to heart. I have tried to show you that even though we should stand with sword outstretched across the seas, yet in the hearts of our people there dwells a real affection, real good-will towards your country. I think that I have convinced you. I have come, indeed, to have a certain amount of confidence in you. That I have already proved. But your news to-day alters much. There are grades of that society which you have joined, rings within rings, as you may well imagine. I see the prospect before me now of making much greater and more valuable use of you. It was your brain, and a certain impatience with the political conduct of your country, which brought you over to our side. Why should not that become an alliance—an absolute alliance? Your interests are drawn into ours. You have now a real and great reason for throwing in your lot with us. Let me look at you. Let me think whether I may not venture upon a great gamble.”
Norgate did not flinch. He appeared simply a little puzzled. Selingman’s blue, steel-like eyes seemed striving to reach the back of his brain.
“All the things that we accomplish in my country,” the latter continued, “we do by method and order. We do them scientifically. We reach out into the future. So far as we can, we foresee everything. We leave little to chance. Yet there are times when one cannot deal in certainties. Young man, the news which you have told us this afternoon has brought us to this pitch. I am inclined to gamble—to gamble upon you.”
“Is there any question of consulting me in this?” Norgate asked coolly.
Selingman brushed the interruption on one side.
“I now make clear to you what I mean,” he continued. “You have joined my little army of helpers, those whom I have been able to convince of the justice and reasonableness of Germany’s ultimate aim. Now I want more from you. I want to make of you something different. More than anything in the world, for the furtherance of my schemes here, I need a young Englishman of your position and with your connections, to whom I can give my whole confidence, who will act for me with implicit obedience, without hesitation. Will you accept that post, Francis Norgate?”
“If you think I am capable of it,” Norgate replied promptly.
“You are capable of it,” Selingman asserted. “There is only one grim possibility to be risked. Are you entirely trustworthy? Would you flinch at the danger moment? Before this afternoon I hesitated. It is your alliance with the Baroness which gives me that last drop of confidence which was necessary.”
“I am ready to do your work,” Norgate said. “I can say no more. My own country has no use for me. My own country seems to have no use for any one at all just now who thinks a little beyond the day’s eating and drinking and growing fat.”
Selingman nodded his head. The note of bitterness in the other’s tone was to his liking.
“Of rewards, of benefits, I shall not now speak,” he proceeded. “You have something in you of the spirit of men who aim at the greater things. There is, indeed, in your attitude towards life something of the idealism, the ever-stretching heavenward culture of my own people. I recognise that spirit in you, and I will not give a lower tone to our talk this afternoon by speaking of money. Yet what you wish for you may have. When the time comes, what further reward you may desire, whether it be rank or high position, you may have, but for the present let it be sufficient that you are my man.”
He held out his hand, and all the time his eyes never left Norgate’s. Gone the florid and beaming geniality of the man, his easy good-humour, his air of good-living and rollicking gaiety. There were lines in his forehead. The firm contraction of his lips brought lines even across his plump cheeks. It was the face, this, of a strong man and a thinker. He held Norgate’s fingers, and Norgate never flinched.
“So!” he said at last, as he turned away. “Now you are indeed in the inner circle, Mr. Francis Norgate. Good! Listen to me, then. We will speak of war, the war that is to come, the war that is closer at hand than even you might imagine.”
“War with England?” Norgate exclaimed.
Selingman struck his hands together.
“No!” he declared. “You may take it as a compliment, if you like—a national compliment. We do not at the present moment desire war with England. Our plan of campaign, for its speedy and successful accomplishment, demands your neutrality. The North Sea must be free to us. Our fleet must be in a position to meet and destroy, as it is well able to do, the Russian and the French fleets. Now you know what has kept Germany from war for so long.”
“You are ready for it, then?” Norgate remarked.
“We are over-ready for it,” Selingman continued. “We are spoiling for it. We have piled up enormous stores of ordnance, ammunition, and all the appurtenances of warfare. Our schemes have been cut and dried to the last detail. Yet time after time we have been forced to stay our hand. Need I tell you why? It is because, in all those small diplomatic complications which have arisen and from which war might have followed, England has been involved. We want to choose a time and a cause which will give England every opportunity of standing peacefully on one side. That time is close at hand. From all that I can hear, your country is, at the present moment, in danger of civil war. Your Ministers who are most in favour are Radical pacifists. Your army has never been so small or your shipbuilding programme more curtailed. Besides, there is no warlike spirit in your nation; you sleep peacefully. I think that our time has come. You will not need to strain your ears, my friend. Before many weeks have passed, the tocsin will be sounding. Does that move you? Let me look at you.”
Norgate’s face showed little emotion. Selingman nodded ponderously.
“Surely,” Norgate asked, “Germany will wait for some reasonable pretext?”
“She will find one through Austria,” Selingman replied. “That is simple. Mind, though this may seem to you a war wholly of aggression, and though I do not hesitate to say that we have been prepared for years for a war of aggression, there are other factors which will come to light. Only a few months ago, an entire Russian scheme for the invasion of Germany next spring was discovered by one of our Secret Service agents.”
Norgate nodded.
“One question more,” he said. “Supposing Germany takes the plunge, and then England, contrary to anticipation, decides to support France?”
Selingman’s face darkened. A sudden purposeless anger shook his voice.
“We choose a time,” he declared, “when England’s hands are tied. She is in no position to go to war with any one. I have many reports reaching me every day. I have come to the firm conclusion that we have reached the hour. England will not fight.”
“And what will happen to her eventually?” Norgate asked.
Selingman smiled slowly.
“When France is crushed,” he explained, “and her northern ports garrisoned by us, England must be taught just a little lesson, the lesson of which you and I have spoken, the lesson which will be for her good. That is what we have planned. That is how things will happen. Hush! There is some one coming. It is finished, this. Come to me to-morrow morning. There is work for you.”
CHAPTER XXVII
Table of Contents
Later on that evening, Norgate walked up and down the platform at Charing-Cross with Anna. Her arm rested upon his; her expression was anima
ted and she talked almost eagerly. Norgate carried himself like a man who has found a new thing in life. He was feeling none of the depression of the last few days.
“Dear,” Anna begged, “you won’t forget, will you, all the time that I am away, that you must never for a single moment relax your caution? Selingman speaks of trust. Well, he gambles, it is true, yet he protects himself whenever he can. You will not move from early morning until you go to bed at night, without being watched. To prove what I say—you see the man who is reading an evening paper under the gas-lamp there? Yes? He is one of Selingman’s men. He is watching us now. More than once he has been at our side. Scraps of conversation, or anything he can gather, will go back to Selingman, and Selingman day by day pieces everything together. Don’t let there be a single thing which he can lay hold of.”
“I’ll lead him a dance,” Norgate promised, nodding a little grimly. “As for that, Anna dear, you needn’t be afraid. If ever I had any wits, they’ll be awake during the next few weeks.”
“When I come back from Rome,” Anna went on, “I shall have more to tell you. I believe that I shall be able to tell you even the date of the great happening. I wonder what other commissions he will give you. The one to-night is simple. Be careful, dear. Think—think hard before you make up your mind. Remember that there is some duplicity which might become suddenly obvious. An official statement might upset everything. These English papers are so garrulous. You might find yourself hard-pressed for an explanation.”
“I’ll be careful, dear,” Norgate assured her, as they stood at last before the door of her compartment. “And of ourselves?”
She lifted her veil.
“We have so little time,” she murmured.
“But have you thought over what I suggested?” he begged.
She laughed at him softly.
“It sounds quite attractive,” she whispered. “Shall we talk of it when I come back from Italy? Good-by, dear! Of course, I do not really want to kiss you, but our friend under the gas-lamp is looking—and you know our engagement! It is so satisfactory to dear Mr. Selingman. It is the one genuine thing about us, isn’t it? So good-by!”
The long train drew out from the platform a few minutes later. Norgate lingered until it was out of sight. Then he took a taxi and drove to the House of Commons. He sent in a card addressed to David Bullen, Esq., and waited for some time. At last a young man came down the corridor towards him.
“I am Mr. Bullen’s private secretary,” he announced. “Mr. Bullen cannot leave the House for some time. Would you care to go into the Strangers’ Gallery, or will you wait in his room?”
“I should like to listen to the debate, if it is possible,” Norgate decided.
A place was found for him with some difficulty. The House was crowded. The debate concerned one of the proposed amendments to the Home Rule Bill, not in itself important, yet interesting to Norgate on account of the bitter feeling which seemed to underlie the speeches of the extreme partisans on either side. The debate led nowhere. There was no division, no master mind intervening, yet it left a certain impression on Norgate’s mind. At a little before ten, the young man who had found him his place touched his shoulder.
“Mr. Bullen will see you now, sir,” he said.
Norgate followed his conductor through a maze of passages into a barely-furnished but lofty apartment. The personage whom he had come to see was standing at the further end, talking somewhat heatedly to one or two of his supporters. At Norgate’s entrance, however, he dismissed them and motioned his visitor to a chair. He was a tall, powerful-looking man, with the eyes and forehead of a thinker. There was a certain laconic quality in his speech which belied his nationality.
“You come to me, I understand, Mr. Norgate,” he began, “on behalf of some friends in America, not directly, but representing a gentleman who in his letter did not disclose himself. It sounds rather complicated, but please talk to me. I am at your service.”
“I am sorry for the apparent mystery,” Norgate said, as he took the seat to which he was invited. “I will make up for it by being very brief. I have come on behalf of a certain individual—whom we will call, if you please, Mr. X——. Mr. X—— has powerful connections in America, associated chiefly with German-Americans. As you know from your own correspondence with an organisation over there, the situation in Ireland is intensely interesting to them at the present moment.”
“I have gathered that, sir,” Mr. Bullen confessed. “The help which the Irish and Americans have sent to Dublin has scarcely been of the magnitude which one might have expected, but one is at least assured of their sympathy.”
“It is partly my mission to assure you of something else,” Norgate declared. “A secret meeting has been held in New York, and a sum of money has been promised, the amount of which would, I think, surprise you. The conditions attached to this gift, however, are peculiar. They are inspired by a profound disbelief in the bona fides of England and the honourableness of her intentions so far as regards the administration of the bill when passed.”
Mr. Bullen, who at first had seemed a little puzzled, was now deeply interested. He drew his chair nearer to his visitor’s.
“What grounds have you, or those whom you represent, for saying that?” he demanded.
“None that I can divulge,” Norgate replied. “Yet they form the motive of the offer which I am about to make to you. I am instructed to say that the sum of a million pounds will be paid into your funds on certain guarantees to be given by you. It is my business here to place these guarantees before you and to report as to your attitude concerning them.”
“One million pounds!” Mr. Bullen murmured, breathlessly.
“There are the conditions,” Norgate reminded him.
“Well?”
“In the first place,” Norgate continued, “the subscribers to this fund, which is by no means exhausted by the sum I mention, demand that you accept no compromise, that at all costs you insist upon the whole bill, and that if it is attempted at the last moment to deprive the Irish people by trickery of the full extent of their liberty, you do not hesitate to encourage your Nationalist party to fight for their freedom.”
Mr. Bullen’s lips were a little parted, but his face was immovable.
“Go on.”
“In the event of your doing so,” Norgate continued, “more money, and arms themselves if you require them, will be available, but the motto of those who have the cause of Ireland entirely at heart is, ‘No compromise!’ They recognise the fact that you are in a difficult position. They fear that you have allowed yourself to be influenced, to be weakened by pressure so easily brought upon you from high quarters.”
“I understand,” Mr. Bullen remarked. “Go on.”
“There is a further condition,” Norgate proceeded, “though that is less important. The position in Europe at the present moment seems to indicate a lasting peace, yet if anything should happen that that peace should be broken, you are asked to pledge your word that none of your Nationalist volunteers should take up arms on behalf of England until that bill has become law and is in operation. Further, if that unlikely event, a war, should take place, that you have the courage to keep your men solid and armed, and that if the Ulster volunteers, unlike your men, decide to fight for England, as they very well might do, that you then proceed to take by force what it is not the intention of England to grant you by any other means.”
Mr. Bullen leaned back in his chair. He picked up a penholder and played with it for several moments.
“Young man,” he asked at last, “who is Mr. X——?”
“That, in the present stage of our negotiations,” Norgate answered coolly, “I am not permitted to tell you.”
“May I guess as to his nationality?” Mr. Bullen enquired.
“I cannot prevent your doing that.”
“The speculation is an interesting one,” Mr. Bullen went on, still fingering the penholder. “Is Mr. X—— a German?”
Norg
ate was silent.
“I cannot answer questions,” he said, “until you have expressed your views.”
“You can have them, then,” Mr. Bullen declared.
“You can go back to Mr. X—— and tell him this. Ireland needs help sorely to-day from all her sons, whether at home or in foreign countries. More than anything she needs money. The million pounds of which you speak would be a splendid contribution to what I may term our war chest. But as to my views, here they are. It is my intention, and the intention of my Party, to fight to the last gasp for the literal carrying out of the bill which is to grant us our liberty. We will not have it whittled away or weakened one iota. Our lives, and the lives of greater men, have been spent to win this measure, and now we stand at the gates of success. We should be traitors if we consented to part with a single one of the benefits it brings us. Therefore, you can tell Mr. X—— that should this Government attempt any such trickery as he not unreasonably suspects, then his conditions will be met. My men shall fight, and their cause will be just.”
“So far,” Norgate admitted, “this is very satisfactory.”
“To pass on,” Mr. Bullen continued, “let me at once confess that I find something sinister, Mr. Norgate, in this mysterious visit of yours, in the hidden identity of Mr. X——. I suspect some underlying motive which prompts the offering of this million pounds. I may be wrong, but it seems to me that I can see beneath it all the hand of a foreign enemy of England.”
“Supposing you were right, Mr. Bullen,” Norgate said, “what is England but a foreign enemy of Ireland?”
A light flashed for a moment in Mr. Bullen’s eyes. His lip curled inwards.
“Young man,” he demanded, “are you an Englishman?”
“I am,” Norgate admitted.
“You speak poorly, then. To proceed to the matter in point, my word is pledged to fight. I will plunge the country I love into civil war to gain her rights, as greater patriots than I have done before. But the thing which I will not do is to be made the cat’s-paw, or to suffer Ireland to be made the cat’s-paw, of Germany. If war should come before the settlement of my business, this is the position I should take. I would cross to Dublin, and I would tell every Nationalist Volunteer to shoulder his rifle and to fight for the British Empire, and I would go on to Belfast—I, David Bullen—to Belfast, where I think that I am the most hated man alive, and I would stand side by side with the leader of those men of Ulster, and I would beg them to fight side by side with my Nationalists. And when the war was over, if my rights were not granted, if Ireland were not set free, then I would bid my men take breathing time and use all their skill, all the experience they had gained, and turn and fight for their own freedom against the men with whom they had struggled in the same ranks. Is that million pounds to be mine, Mr. Norgate?”
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