"She is one of the most dangerous women we could possibly have to deal with," he told me. "I have known of her all my life. She was in Paris twelve years ago, and she has twice brought Germany and France to the brink of war. She trusts or mistrusts wholly by instinct, and I have heard her boast that she is never mistaken. You have scored this time; but she won't let you alone. She is a regular sleuth-hound."

"I am warned," I a.s.sured him. "I shall do all that I can to keep out of her way."

I left a little before closing time that night, and made my way, by a circuitous route, to my cousin's club. I was shown into the strangers'

room, and Gilbert came to me in a few moments. His face told me at once that he had met with no success. He carefully closed the door, and came over to my side of the room.

"Jim," he said, "it's horrible, but I've failed completely to convince--our friend. I haven't even made the least impression upon him.

He listened to all that I had to say with a very polite smile, and every now and then kept on taking out his watch. When I had finished, he thanked me very much, but gave me clearly to understand that he considered I had been made a fool of. I tried to persuade him to see you, but he declined point-blank. Shall I tell you his message to you?"

I nodded.

"He sent his compliments, and begged you not to neglect your winter practice. Said he had set his heart upon the county winning the championship next season!"

"In plain words," I remarked bitterly, "he recommends me to mind my own business."

Gilbert nodded silently. He was unfolding an evening paper.

"It is like trying to save a drowning man, who persists in clinging to one's neck," I remarked. "Gilbert, I have had a German service-rifle given me to-day, with a plain hint that I may expect to be using it within a month. I even know which of the Tilbury forts I shall be expected to share in taking."

My cousin nodded and opened out his paper.

"The Channel Squadron," he announced, "leaves Devonport for Kiel on Thursday next. And here, in another part of the paper, is the little rift in the lute, Listen!--

"'We understand that a slight difficulty has arisen with Germany as to the proposed Morocco Commission. In view of the better understanding, however, now existing between the two governments, a speedy agreement is believed certain.'"

"We shall have an ultimatum," Gilbert declared grimly, "as soon as our ships are safely anch.o.r.ed in Kiel harbor. Polloch may change his tone then, but he will be a little too late. What can we do, Jim? Whom can we appeal to?"

"Heaven only knows!" I answered. "If Adele succeeds in Paris, a hint may come from there."

"It is a slender reed," Gilbert said, "for so mighty an issue to rest upon."

I was thoughtful for a few moments.

"I have had proof within the last few hours," I said, "that I am under a certain amount of suspicion, and it is very possible that I am watched.

Yet, after all, that is comparatively unimportant. Do you think that Polloch would see me?"

"I am sure that he would not," Gilbert answered promptly. "In fact, I may as well tell you at once, that he has set us down for a pair of cranks.

He dismissed me to-day almost peremptorily. And I have reason to know that he has warned other members of the Cabinet against us. He told me plainly that it was the policy of his government to conciliate Germany, and he considered that a good deal of the ill-feeling in the past had been due to the fact that we were always over-suspicious of Germany and her actions. When I spoke of organized corps of waiters and clerks here, 300,000 of them, in commission, all of whom had had military training and possessed rifles, he practically called me an a.s.s."

"Gilbert," I said slowly, "we are up against an _impa.s.se_. I shall go back and consult with Guest. He is the most resourceful man I know. He may be able to suggest something."

Gilbert did not attempt to detain me. We walked together across the hall of the club, of which I, too, by the bye, was a member, and I was careful to carry my hat in my hand. Just as we were reaching the porter's box, a man in brilliant uniform, only partially concealed by a heavy military cloak, pushed open the swing doors and entered the club. He pa.s.sed us by without a glance, but my heart was in my mouth.

"Gilbert," I whispered, "who was that?"

"Count Metterheim--he is on the military staff at the German Emba.s.sy.

Why?"

I looked around. Count Metterheim had pa.s.sed into the smoking-room, and there was no one else within ear-shot.

"He is also," I said, "on the committee of the No. 1 Branch of the Waiters' Union. I have been up before him at the Cafe Suisse!"

CHAPTER x.x.xVI

AN URGENT WARNING

Madame came alone to luncheon the next morning, and beckoned me to her table. "Well," she said, with her black eyes fixed steadily upon mine, "you are of the same mind, eh?"

I bowed.

"I prefer to think," I said, "that you were joking yesterday."

"So!" she answered, and began to eat. I gathered that I was dismissed.

But presently she called me back again.

"You have many friends in London, Herr Paul?" she asked.

"None at all," I answered. "It is very lonely."

"I thought," she said, "that I saw you coming out of some flats in Dover Street the other day."

Madame was a little over-anxious. She was showing her hand too openly.

I leaned over the table, after a cautious glance around.

"I will tell you," I said, "since you are so kind as to be interested. I am looking for another situation. I think that I shall go into a private family."

"Another situation?" she exclaimed. "You are not satisfied here?"

I shook my head.

"My uncle," I said, "is a very mean man. He does not like to pay both Karl and myself--and he pays me very little. It is all promises!--and meanwhile Elsie waits."

Madame laughed, not altogether pleasantly.

"Elsie is likely to wait," she said. "You are too scrupulous, Herr Paul.

I have shown you how to make a great deal of money."

"The money with which I marry Elsie," I answered, "shall not be blood money."

She let me go then, and I went away well pleased. I fancied that I was holding my own with Madame. And I had left the way clear for my next visit, which was no small thing.

At half-past three the restaurant was almost empty. Very soon after four I rang the bell of Lady Dennisford's town house in Park Lane. The man who opened it stared at my request to see her Ladyship. Eventually, however, I persuaded him to take in a message. I wrote a single word upon a plain card, and in five minutes I was shown into a small boudoir.