A Cabinet Secret

"Are you quite sure that no messenger has called from Sir William Woller?" I asked Williams, when he came to my dressing-room, a quarter of an hour later.

"No, sir, I am quite sure of that," he replied; "had any one called I should have been informed of it."

With that assurance I was perforce compelled to be content. I can give you my word, however, that I was by no means easy in my mind concerning Sir William's silence.

Next morning, when I was in the middle of my breakfast, a note was handed me from the Commander-in-Chief. It ran as follows: —

"Dear Manderville, – Could you spare me ten minutes as soon as possible after your receipt of this? I would call upon you myself, but for various reasons, which I will explain to you when I see you, I am unable to leave the house until I go down to Pall Mall."

Here followed an assurance that the writer was very truly mine, his signature, and a postscript to the effect that the bearer would wait for an answer. I scribbled a hasty reply, saying that I would come round to Bruton Street at once, and as soon as I had made my toilet, called a cab and set off. On my arrival there I was shown direct to the Commander-in-Chief's study, where I found him awaiting my coming with considerable impatience.

"It is very good of you to come so promptly," he said. "To tell you the truth, I am very uneasy, and as we are both old friends of the man, I thought I would consult you in an ex-officio capacity, before going to the Secretary of State for War."

"I am to gather from this, I suppose, that up to the present, you have not heard anything of Woller," I answered, with a little sinking of the heart, for I made sure that morning would dispel the mystery that enveloped his behaviour.

"You have guessed correctly," he said. "I have caused the most careful enquiries to be made, and have learnt that he left Windsor by the 3.25 train, reached Paddington at 4.2, entered a cab there, and has not since been heard of. Unfortunately, as nobody seems to have been aware of his identity, the number of the cab was not taken, and, so far as we are able to ascertain, none of the drivers in the station-yard at the time appear to be able to recollect whose vehicle it was that he employed. If you reflect that it has been arranged that he shall leave London for Southampton at eleven o'clock this morning, and that an enormous crowd will be at the station to see him off, it will at once become evident to you that his non-appearance will be far from making a good impression upon the public mind."

"But what has become of him? He can't have vanished into space."

"There are many other ways in which he might disappear," said my companion gloomily.

"Surely you don't suppose he has been the victim of foul play?"

I put the question hesitatingly, for I knew the thoughts that were in my own mind.

"I scarcely know what to think," the other replied. "I can only confess that I am alarmed, seriously alarmed, by his prolonged absence. Woller, as you know, is a man who realises to the full the responsibilities entailed by his present position. Duty with him is more than duty, it is a matter of life and death; he knows that the eyes of England, of Europe, and I might even say of the whole world, are upon him, and for that reason alone I feel sure he would not cause us so much anxiety of his own free will."

"In that case, what do you intend doing?" I enquired, for I could well foresee the terrible trouble to which the situation would give rise. "It is now a quarter to ten, and in little more than an hour he will be expected at Waterloo. If the crowd don't see him they will begin to wonder, the man in the street will begin to talk, the newspapers will take up the tale, and in a few hours we shall have entered on a new phase of the situation."

The Commander-in-Chief rose and began to pace the room.

"I have already sent a special messenger with a letter to the Secretary of State," he replied. "In it I have told him what I fear and also what I have done. I shall consult the various heads of Departments as soon as I reach Pall Mall, on the bare chance that one of them may be able to elucidate the mystery.

"At the same time I should communicate with the railway authorities, if I were you," I continued. "I should inform them that, owing to the fact of his being detained by matters of the greatest importance, it is possible that Woller may not be able to travel by that particular train."

"That is a good idea," the Commander-in-Chief replied; "I will act upon it at once. In the event of our receiving no news, that should be sufficient to give us time to arrange some other plan. It will mean delaying the vessel at Southampton, however, and – good gracious me! – what a pile of difficulties it will land us in! The Colonial Secretary must be informed, and the matter must come before the Cabinet. As you said just now, if by any chance it should leak out and the Press get hold of it, there is no telling where it will end."

"You have communicated with Scotland Yard, of course?"

"I sent a messenger to them shortly after midnight, that is to say, as soon as I had found out that Woller had left Windsor, and that he had not been to his Club, or to his own house. Their best men are at work upon it, but so far without any satisfactory result."

"And can his own servants throw any light upon the matter?"

"None whatever!" the Commander-in-Chief replied. "When he left for Windsor he informed them he should be back early, in order to dress for my dinner in the evening. They say he appeared to be in the best of health and spirits, and seemed greatly pleased with the arrangements made for his journey to-day. Lord Laverstock accompanied him from the Castle, and was the last to speak to him at Windsor Station. From the conversation I have had with him by telephone, I gathered that Woller was looking forward to his dinner with us last night. The guard of the train corroborates the fact that he travelled to Paddington. For the reason that the Railway Authorities expected him by the next train, there was no crowd upon the platform to witness his arrival. On alighting he simply called a cab and drove away. After that he vanishes completely."

"There is no way, I suppose, in which we can make further enquiries concerning him?"

"There is nothing so far as I can see. We are doing all that is possible, but our position in the meantime is a most anxious and unpleasant one. Now I shall hasten along to see the Secretary of State for War, and hear what he thinks of the situation. He will doubtless consider it necessary to call an immediate meeting of the Council, when the situation can be discussed in all its bearings."

"Let us hope that he may be heard of before very long," I replied.

So saying I left him and drove home again, feeling sadly upset by the untoward turn events had taken. What could have become of poor Woller? Had he been decoyed into some slum and murdered? A hundred fears for his safety assailed me, each one equally probable and equally cruel.

When I reached my house I found that the letters had arrived, and were spread out upon my study table. Still thinking of Woller, I opened the envelopes and scanned their contents. One was larger than the others, and on opening it I found that it contained a card, upon which the following words were printed: —

"The Countess de Venetza at Home on Wednesday, November the 21st, from nine until eleven o'clock."

In the bottom left-hand corner was the address, "Wiltshire House."

As I stood with the card in my hand, the memory of my first meeting with the Countess came back to me. So rapidly had events moved of late, that it seemed as if a year had elapsed since I had last seen her. I recalled the impression her dark haunting eyes had made upon me, and, discourteous though it may be to say so, I must confess that a shudder passed over me at the recollection. I placed the card upon my mantel-piece, and, for the time being, thought no more about it. There were other and more weighty matters than an invitation from a pretty woman to be considered that day.

Every one who has followed the progress of the war – and there are few who have not – will recall the wave of consternation and dismay that swept over England when the news became known that Sir William Woller, the newly-appointed Commander-in-Chief for South Africa, had disappeared, and could not be found. A thousand rumours, all of them equally sensational, and all equally wide of the mark, flew about the country; but despite the efforts of the police, the jibes of the Press, the scarcely veiled sneers of Little Englanders and the openly-expressed contempt of our Continental neighbours, not a trace of the missing man could be discovered. A meeting of the Cabinet was immediately summoned, with the result that General Grey-Mortimer, a gallant gentleman and an experienced soldier, was at once despatched to the front, in temporary command. In the meantime, the wildest excitement prevailed in England. Transports were leaving the various ports every day, the Reservists were called up, the Militia and Volunteers were being equipped and drilled, if necessary, for active service. Plainly the heart of the country was stirred to the very centre of its being.

Such was the Public Temper at the time that few entertainments were given by Society. Such as there were, and to which I was invited, I, for the most part, declined. An exception was made, however, where the Countess de Venetza was concerned. The temptation to see her play the part of a hostess was more than I could resist, and for this reason, ten o'clock on the night set forth upon her card found me mounting the magnificent staircase of Wiltshire House. From the number of arrivals and the crowding of the stairs, it was plain, despite the excitement of that period, that her "At Home" was likely to be a crowded one. Her beauty, her wealth, the fact that she was for the time being the possessor of Wiltshire House, her famous team of black Orloffs, behind which she drove in the Park, had combined to make her one of the year's sensations. The grandeur of her entertainments had quickly become proverbial, and in consequence, to admit that one had not the entrée to Wiltshire House, was to argue oneself unknown. Ascending the staircase by my side, cool, calm and collected, as if the enormous weight of responsibility he was then carrying were of no account, was no less a person than the Colonial Secretary. When the history of the century, and of this war in particular, shall come to be written, the character of the Honourable Benjamin Castellan will shine prominently out. The possessor of a serene imperturbability that nothing could disturb, a keen observer, a born leader of men, and boasting that most necessary of all qualifications, a firm belief in himself, a better man for the arduous post he occupied could not have been discovered.

"I was not aware that you knew the Countess," I said, as we climbed the stairs together.

"Nor did I that until a few days ago," he answered. "May I ask where you made her acquaintance?"

"In Paris," I replied. "We stayed at the same hotel. She and her father had just returned from a yachting trip in the Mediterranean with the Duke of Rotherhithe."

Now, I am sorry to have to confess it, but that little speech of mine was destined to work an incalculable amount of harm. Castellan has confessed to me since that he was at first inclined to be somewhat distrustful of the Countess. When I informed him, however, that our hostess had been the guest of such a well-known personage as the Duke of Rotherhithe she figured in his eyes in a different light, with what result you shall presently hear.

On the broad landing at the head of the staircase we were received by the Countess. A more beautiful figure than she presented at that moment it would have been difficult to find. Perfectly dressed, carrying herself with a graceful assurance as to the manner born, she made an ideal hostess. If further evidence of her wealth were wanting, it might have been found in the magnificent diamond tiara she wore upon her head, in the broad collet of the same precious stones about her neck, and in the beautiful bracelets that encircled her wrists. Only once before could I recall such a display, and then the wearer was an Emperor's escort. As you may remember, when I first saw her in Paris, it had struck me that her attire was just one little point behind the "prevailing mode." Now, however, it was as near perfection as it was possible for human hands to make it. She greeted Castellan first.

"It is indeed kind of you, Mr Castellan, to come to me when every moment of your time is of such value," she said, as she shook hands with him. "I follow your doings with the greatest eagerness, and marvel that you should have the strength to accomplish so much."

"Have you ever discovered that stress of work promotes growth of power," said the Colonial Secretary. Then, with one of his inscrutable smiles, he added: "Pardon me, Countess, I had forgotten for the moment that your power does not depend upon your work!"

"Ah! I fear you intend a compliment," returned the lady with a smile. "Must it remain for a foreigner to remind you of your own Milton?

'What is strength without a double share
Of wisdom? vast, unwieldly, burdensome,
Proudly secure, yet liable to fall
By weakest subtilities; not made to rule,
But to subserve where wisdom bears command.'"

It was not difficult to see that the aptness of the quotation astonished the Colonial Secretary. The purity of the Countess's English was also a surprise to me; but for certain unmistakable indications it would not have been thought that she was a foreigner. When Castellan had passed on his way, she turned to me with a little gesture, as if she were pleased to welcome an old friend.

"Ah! Sir George," she said, "I am so pleased to see you. But I think I should give you a scolding for not having been before."

I hastened to excuse myself on the plea of over-work, and, having obtained forgiveness and promised to amend my conduct in the future, I passed on to shake hands with her father. When I had been again thanked for my kindness in the matter of the French train, I followed the Colonial Secretary into the ball-room. I had not been there many minutes before I was greeted by a voice, which I instantly recognised, saying: "How do you do, Sir George," and turning, I found myself face to face with the handsome young Count Reiffenburg, Madame's cousin.

"And how do you like London?" I enquired, after the usual polite salutations had passed between us. "I think I understood you to say, on the occasion of our crossing from Paris, that this was your first visit?"

"I like it very much," he replied, "but, to be candid, not so much as Paris. I trust that is not a rude thing to say in London?"

"Every one is entitled to express his own opinion," I answered, somewhat coldly, for I had taken an instinctive dislike to this young fellow. "You must remember that you are seeing England at her worst just now. The times are too anxious for us to be very gay."