Chapter XXVI. A Mission and its Sequel.

Otago Witness, Issue 2252, 29 April 1897, Page 42

Chapter XXVI. A Mission and its Sequel.

•' You fully understand che position, Deedes ? " " Absolutely," I replied. "Well, this is your first mission abroad — a secret one and most important — so do your ! best, and let me see- how you shape towards \ being a diplomatist. Remember you have one main object to bear in mind, as I have already told you ; and, further, that the strictest secrecy is absolutely necessary." t j It was the Earl of Warnham who thus spoke gravely as we stood opposite one another in the private room of the Minister j in Attendance at Osborne. Between us was a large table littered with State documents, each of which her Majeßty had carefully investigated before appending her firm, wellvrritten signature. Late on the previous night I had travelled to the Isle of Wight in response to a telegram summoning me and my chief, who, after three rather protracted ! audiences of her Majesty during the morn- j Ing, had instructed me to proceed at or.cc to Paris, entrusting me with a secret mission. Lord Gayßford, the Under-secretary, would undoubtedly have gone, but as he was away in Scotland attending 'some election meetings, and as time was pressing, I had, much to my gratification, been chosen. My I mission was a rather curious one — not un- j connected with her . Majesty's personal i affairs — and the instructions I bad to deliver j to the Marquis of Worthorpe, our Am- | bassador to the French Republic, were of such a. delicate nature that if written in a formal dispatch would, the Earl feared, cause that skilled and highly-valued diplomatist to Bend in his resignation. j I had therefore been chosen to put a suggestion politely to his Excellency, and at the same time deliver the Eari's instructions ■with deference, yet so firmly that they could not be disregarded. Mine was certainly a difficult task, nevertheless in my enthusiasm at being chosen to execute this secret mission abroad I was prepared to attempt anything . from the settlement of the Egyptian question to the formation of a Quadruple Alliance. " I shall carry out your instructions to the best of ray ability," I assured him, after he had given me various valuable hiats how to .*-' act. "Yes," the aged Minister said, slowly gathering the tails of his black broadcloth frock coat over his arms and thrusting his hands into his pockets. " Cross from Newhaven to-night, and you can see Worthorpe at noon to-morrow. Tell him to give you an Interview alone ; then explain what I have fcold you. He must obtain an audience of the President some time to-morrow." 41 1 shall act as discreetly as possible," I declared. " I feel sure you will, Deedee,"he exclaimed with a look more kindly than usual. " This mission will. I hope, lead to others, further afield perhaps. But remember that you were once victimised by a spy ; therefore exercise the greatest care and caution in this and all matters." "I certainly shall," I answered smiling; then, after the farther discussion of a point topon which I was not perfectly clear, I wished jay chief adieu. As I passed out of the room he said i •' Put up at the Continental. If I have any lurther instructions I'll wire in cipher." "Very well," I replied, and as I went forth I met on the threshold a. servant in the royal

livery who had come to summon the trusted Minister to another audience with his Sovereign. Eager to fulfil my mission to the satisfaction of the eccentric old statesman, wbo if to others was a martinet was to me a firm and sympathetic friend, I at once set out, crossed to Dieppe that night, and duly arrived in Paris next day. Shortly before noon I pre1 sented myself at tbe handsome official residence of the British Ambassador, and was quickly ushered into his presence. We were not strangers, having met on aeveial occasions when he visited London and called to consult the chief ; therefore he welcomed me cordially when I entered his private room. The Marquis was atall, brown-bearded, pleasant-faced man, who had graduated in the Constantinople and Vienna schools of diplomacy before being appointed Ambassador in Paris, and who had achieved considerable reputation as a skilled negotiator of the most delicate points. B?ated opposite one another in softly padded arm chairs, we chatted affibly for perhap3 a quarter of an hour. First he inquired after our chiefs health, and th<j& endeavoured to ascertain from me the policy about to be pursued towards Russia in view of our recent strained relations, but I j strenuously avoided answering any oJE his artfully concealed questions. A dozan times, with that consummate tact acquired by a j lifetime of diplomacy, he endeavoured to gel me to hazard an opinion or express a doubt, ! but I "always refused. Lord Warnbam's j instructions were that I should say nothing ; of those affairs of State which, in my capacity of private secretary, were well known .to me; hence my determination to maintain silence. Presently the Marquis smilingly exclaimed, " Lord Warnham has evidently taught, you the first requisite of the successful diplomatist—namely, secrecy. You've borne well the test I have applied, Deedes. By the same questions I have just put to you I could have learnt just what I wanted from half the diplomatic circle here in Paris, yet you have fenced with me admirably. I aball not omit to mention the fact to Lord Warnham when next I call at the B'oreign Office." I thanked his Excellency, adding with a j smile, " One learns the value of silence with ' our chief." I " Yes," he answered, slowly tapping his table with a quill. " He's a curious man — ex- j tremely curious. His very eccentricity causes him to be feared by every Cabinet in ] Europe. Is he really as impetuous and | strange in private life an be is in public ? " I paused, looking fixedly into my companion's dark eyes. j *' The object of my visit, your Excellency, is not to discuas the merits of my chief or the policy oE the home Government, but to j make a suggestion which he has desired me to place before you with all deference to your wide experience as ambassador and your unequalled knowledge of the French people," I said gravely, and then, clsarly and succinctly, I placed before bim the Karl's ideas, together with the instructions he had entrusted me to deliver. At first the ambassador, resenting my interference with bis actions, seemed disinclined to entertain the suggestions, but using j the arguments my chief had advanced I at length induced him to view the matter from j the same standpoint. I even obtained from him what was practically an admission that the policy he had pursued in the past regarding the question under discussion was not altogether sound, and once having obtained that, I felt confident of gaining my point without any unpleasant incident. From that moment, indeed, he recognised that I bore a message from the chief, therefore he treated me pleasantly, and announced hia intention of Eeeking an audience with the President of the Republic at the Elysee at 4 o'clock to enter upon negotiations which her Majesty earnestly desired should be carried forward- without delay. Although the Marquig treated me with calm, unruffled dignity, as befitted the ambassador of the greatest nation on eartb, I nevertheless congratulated myself thab my efforts had been eminently successful. Aided by tha promptings of tbe shrewd old carl I had, I flattered myself, exercised a careful and even delicate tact in dealing with this leader among diplomatists, and, as may be imagined, the knowledge that my mission was successful caused me the utmost satisfaction. When I had first approached the subject he had been inclined to disregard my words, and grew so angry that I feared lest he might tender his resignation, as the Earl had apprehended But .the Minister's clever arguments rather than my own tact convinced him, for he saw that to act at once was imperative; hence the success of my first secret mission. We sat together for nearly an hour calmly discussing the matter from various stand-

points, and when we rose hia Excellency again congratulated me upon the soundness of my views, laughingly declaring that, instead of penning the Earl's impatient and irritating dispatches, be ought to appoint me to a post abroad. Full of elation, I descended the broad Btairs, so thickly carpeted that my feet fell noiselessly, and met unexpectedly a few moments later my friend Captain Cargill, of the 2nd Life Guards, the junior military attach 6, who greeted me with a hearty British hand-grip. "Didn't expect to meet you here, old chap," he cried. " I thought you were tied up in the cbief's private room alway3, and never allowed out of England." " This is the firab time I've been here offioially," I replied, laughing. " What's the trouble ? Anything startling ? " he inquired. "No, nothing very extraordinary," I remarked carelessly. " I've seen the Marquis and concluded my mission." Oontiuuing, I extracted from him a promise to dine with me at the Continental that evening, as I intended to leave next, day, and after a brief conversation we parted. Along , the shady side of tha Rue dv Faubourg Ss. ' Honore I strolled leisurely, turning into the I Hue Royale, passing the gloomy facjade of the Madeleine, and continuing along the Boulevard to the Grand Cafe. Paris possessed but littlo attraction for me in ray gloomy frame of mind. Five years of my youth had been spent there, and I knew the 1 city in every mood ; but to-day, plunged aa I | was in a debauch of melancholy, its gay aspect under the warm sunshine jarred upon j me. On leaving the Embassy it had occurred to ms to call upon an old friend, who in my student days bad shared rooms with me, but who had been returned as Deputy at the last election, and now lived in the Rue dcs Pet.it> Champs. With that object I had walked along mechanically, and instead of lureing down the Rue dcs Oapucines, as I should have done, I had found myself in the Place de l'Opera. Then, seating myself at one of the tableß in front of tbe Grand Cafe, I ordered a "bock" and contp.mplatively watched the gay crowd of passers-by. Wnen last I had sat at that spob ifc was with Ella, on the night before we returned to LondoD from our honeymoon. Well I remembered how happy and content she had then been ; hoy/ she had er.]oyed the light cosmopolitan chatter about her, and how fondly we had loved each other. In those days she had miogled tender words with her kifVes, which seemed to bear my soul away. Yet how weary and full of terrible sox'ety had been tbe nina months thai hsd elapsed^ since that delightful aulunin ni^ht, the laet of our lazy tour through rurai France. When T reflected, upon all the reinaikable cccurrencf s they seemed like some hideous nightmare, while she herself appeared striking, yefc mysterious, as the fair vision in some half-remembered dream. Thus was I iittisg clone at the little marble-topped table, gaz'ng into spac?, wondering, as I did daily, how my lost wife farad, and whether she ever gave a single passing thought to the man who, notwithstanding all her faults and folliee, loved her better than his life, when before my eyes there arose for a second a face that in an instant was familiar. A man, short of stature and well dressed, had lounged leisurely by with a cigarette, but scarcely had he walked a dozen yards beyond the cafe when I jumped up, and rushing alorg. accosted him. It was Ivan Ranouf. He turned sharply at mention of his name, regarding me with an inquiring glance, but next-second expressed pleasure at our meetiDg. Together we returned to the cafe and chatted amicably over a mazagran. Presently, after we bad been speaking of our last interview at Mrs Laing's, I asked him the truth about his sudden dismissal from her service. "'What your wife told you was quite correct," he answered, with a mysterious smile. " I was detected." " You are generally too wary to be caught by those upon whom you are keeping observation," I remarked. Slowly he selected a fresh cigarette, and laughing carelessly answered : "It was not by accident, but by design that I was caught. My object was already attained, and I desired to be discharged at once from Madame's servica." " She left London almost immediately," I said. " Yes, lam quite aware of that. It was best for hei," he observed rather abruptly. "My wife also fled on the same day," I exclaimed slowly. " I haven't seen her since." At this announcement he betrayed no surprise, but merely remarked : "So I have heard." " Tell me," I urged earnestly, "do you know anything of her movements ? lam endeavouring to find her, and am in utter despair." With a sharp glance at me the great detective stirred his long glass, raised it to his lips, and took a deep draught. Then, slowly replacing it upon the table, he coldly answered : " I know nothing of your wife's whereabouts, m'Bicur." " Am I to understand that you refuse to tell me anything ? " I asked annoyed. He shrugged his shouldere, but answered no word. I detested him instinctively. " Is it not strange that they should both have fled in this extraordinary manner 1 " I suggested. " Can you assign any motive whatsver for their flight 1 " "I am really not good at conundrum?," he replied indifferently. '■ But if you took my advice, m'sieur, you would abandon all thought of her, for at least ons fact was quite plain — namely, that Mademoiselle never loved you." "How do you know that?" I cried, with sinking heart, as the ghastly truth was forced upoa me for the thousandth time. " From my own observations," he answered, looking straight at me across the table. ] " Your marriage was, I am fully aware, an i unhappy one ; therefore you sbouM regard it entirely as of the past. She will never trouble you again, I can assure you." " Why ? " I demanded. " Yonr words indicate that you are fnlly aware of the true / facts. Tell me all, Renouf, and set my mind ; at rest." j ••I have told too. all. m'sieur." ha said.

suddenly tossing his cigarette away, glancing at his watch and rising. " That, i?, I have told you all that I may. But I have an appointment," he added abruptly. " Adieu." And before I could prevent him he had raised his hat with a show of politeness and walked hurriedly off across tbe broad Place in the direction of the Boulevard dcs Italiens. In chagrin I bit my lip, for instead of giving me any clue to the hiding place of my errant wife, his words only tended to increase my mistrust and despair. Was not, however, his refusal only what I might have expected ? • I rose and slowly walked away down the Rue Auber deeply reflecting upon' his denunciation of Ella's faithlessness. What motive could he have, I wondered, in thus declaring that she had never loved me ? That night Cargill dined with me, and after taking our coffee and liqueurs in the courtyard of the Continental, watching the well-dres3ed crowd of idleiß who assemble there nightly after dinner, we strolled ont along the brightly-lit strests where all Pads was enjoying tho cool starlit evening after tbo heat and burden of the day. Our footsteps led us unconsciously to that Mecca of the Briton or American resident in Paris, the Hotel Chatham, and entering the American bar wp found assembled there a number of mutual acquaintances. At one of the small wooden rabies sat my old and valued friend Homy AHender, counsel to tbe United Slates Embassy in Paris, a maa univorsp.Hy liked in both British and American colonies of the French capital, and opposite him a short', stout, round-faced Frenchman, attirad in grey, and wearing the L°gion of Honour in hisJappel— M. Goror>, tho wellknown Chief of Polic?. Frcra both I received a cordial welcome, and as we sat down to chat over cocktails carefully mixed by the deft, loquacious bnr-tsnder, Tommy, I took up Ls Monde Illustre lying upon the tab'e, and opened it carelessly. Several pages I bad turned over, when suddenly ray eyes fell upon a foil-page illustration of a beautiful woman in evening drose, with a fine diamond tiarra upon her hend. The features were unmistakable. With an involuntary cry that startled my companions, I sat rigid and motionless glaring at ifc in abjacL dismay. The portrait ifcsolf did not surprise me so much as the amazing words printed beneath. The latter held me spell-bound. (To be continued.) |