‘How did you get on with the baroness?’ asked Mrs Manvers-Buller, a little later.
‘Splendidly,’ Foster assured her.
‘I’m so glad. Be as kind as you can to her, Bernard. She’s a dear girl. Your job is not too pleasant, is it?’
He stared at her with incredulous eyes.
‘Then you know?’ he gasped.
‘Of course I know.’ She smiled at him. ‘I know a very great deal. Perhaps that is why I am so anxious that Sophie should not be hurt.’
‘I won’t hurt her, Elsa, if I can possibly help it.’
She patted his hand affectionately.
‘I know you won’t. I can’t understand what she sees in that von Strom. He certainly seems to have blinded Sophie pretty effectively. One of these days, though, Bernard, everybody’s eyes will be opened at once; then our friend the Marshal will fall with a bump that will shake Germany from end to end.’
‘Elsa,’ came in plaintive tones from Major Protheroe, ‘need you stand flirting with that young fellow before my very eyes, when I am longing to take you into the garden.’
‘I haven’t said yet that I want to go with you into the garden,’ she retorted.
Nevertheless she went. Foster was left on his own. Instead of rejoining the circle of his own intimate friends, he also wandered out once again on to the lawn. He felt he wanted to be alone, to think. Unconsciously his steps took him in the direction of the remote clump of rhododendrons where he and the baroness had sought seclusion. There seemed no one in that part of the gardens, and he was about to make his way to the chair he had previously occupied, there to sit, smoke, and think in peace, when the murmur of voices caught his ears. He pulled up abruptly, rather surprised that the sequestered little spot was occupied after all. He decided that he had almost interrupted a lover’s tête-à-tête, and was glad that the soft, springy turf had silenced his footsteps. He was about to creep quietly away, when he caught a name, followed by a phrase in German. For a moment he stood irresolute; then approached closer to the rhododendron bushes on the side behind the chairs and stood listening. The phrase in German coupled with the name of Mrs Manvers-Buller had decided him. He knew that the baroness was in the house; had seen her taking refreshments with a crowd of other people just before he had emerged. Who else but she would be likely to talk German, and why was the name of Mrs Manvers-Buller mentioned? He disliked eavesdropping, but this seemed to be a case of necessity. It would be easy enough to retreat once he had ascertained that he was listening to a harmless conversation. There followed a silence so prolonged that he began to wonder if the occupants of the chairs had moved away or had heard him, and were keeping quiet on purpose. Suddenly, however, someone laughed.
‘Why are you amused?’ asked a woman’s voice in German.
‘I was thinking,’ came in the deeper tones of a man speaking the same language, ‘of the indignation of the little Sophie, if she knew that her movements were being watched by you and me. His Excellency does not like this tour of hers at all. He was particularly against her coming to England.’
‘And you really think Frau Manvers-Buller is likely to be a bad companion for our Sophie?’
‘My dear, it is known that the lady is the great friend of Herr Wallace, and we all know of the position he holds in this country. Who is to say that she does not act for the British Secret Service? It is no secret that the baroness and the Supreme Marshal are extremely friendly, and that he goes to her, and sometimes confides in her, perhaps under the force of his passion for her, for it is believed that he loves her deeply. Frau Manvers-Buller may quite well attempt to obtain from the baroness the secrets that have been confided to her.’
‘Then she will fail,’ replied the woman. ‘No secret that is ever imparted to Sophie will be revealed without permission. She is staunch, and you know it. I hate this unpleasant task of following her about, and periodically searching her belongings. It is one thing to be of the espionage service, but quite another to be forced to spy on a very sweet woman simply because she might divulge something which His Excellency wishes to be kept secret. You and I know that it is nothing of any great importance we also know that this Frau Manvers-Buller has been friendly with Sophie since she was a child. Why then should she be suspected simply because Sophie has come to England, and because she happens to be friendly with the Chief of the British Secret Service? It is all a great waste of time, Carl.’
‘Perhaps you are right. Nevertheless, His Excellency has given the orders, and it is for us to obey.’
‘A fine man he is to give orders for the woman he is supposed to love to be spied upon!’ The contempt in the woman’s tone was unmistakable.
‘S’sh, Hanni! What sentiments are these? If you said that in Germany, you would be likely to get into serious trouble.’
‘We are in England, not in Germany.’
‘But you will be returning, and then—’
‘And then you will report what I have said! Is that so?’
‘Certainly not,’ protested the man. ‘You do me a great injustice. Do you not know how deeply I love you?’
‘About as deeply as the Supreme Marshal loves Sophie, I suppose. You men, whether the highest or the lowest, are all the same. Women are fools to trust you. Sophie, no doubt, has great belief and trust in His Excellency. Yet he has her spied upon. I tell you, Carl, I am sick of the business, for I have become very fond of Sophie.’
‘What harm is there in it so long as she does nothing to betray the confidence reposed in her? If she does, it will be our duty to act. In that case I feel sure you will be the first to do your duty.’
There was silence for a few moments.
‘How did you come here?’ asked the woman.
‘From the mews at the back. It was easy.’
‘Why did you come?’
‘Because at such a function as this people are more likely to endeavour to worm from the baroness what is not hers to tell.’
‘You could not trust me to keep watch on her?’
‘My dear Hanni, two are always better than one. Also, I was not sure that you would be brought. It is not usual for a maid to accompany her mistress to receptions.’
‘You know very well that I always do. She likes to have me at hand to attend to her in case of necessity. It has been so since her illness.’
‘And why is it that I find you wandering in the garden?’
The woman gave vent to a sound of impatience.
‘Have I not already told you that I followed her and the young man, and listened to their conversation here?’
Foster started.
‘Yes; that is so,’ agreed the man. ‘It was entirely innocent, you say?’
‘Entirely innocent, my suspicious Carl,’ was the reply, delivered in mocking tones. ‘I am beginning to believe you are anxious that the baroness should do something wrong.’
‘By no means, Hanni. I would regret it very much if she committed any action inimical to Germany.’
‘Well, she has not, and will not.’
‘Who was he – the young man sitting here with Sophie?’
‘My friend, how do I know? His name I did hear, but I have forgotten it. As I told you, Sophie was telling him that he and the young men of England should assert themselves and not grumble because the old men hold all the good positions. It was delightful to hear her advising him like a mother. But I do not think that one could ever be assertive. He is too unintelligent and sleeping-looking. One of those who live for pleasure and nothing else.’
This time Foster smiled broadly. It was rather refreshing to discover the opinion the German woman had conceived of him.
‘I must go in,’ he heard her say. ‘Soon the guests will be departing. Next time, when the baroness goes to a reception or a party, Carl, I advise you to leave watching her to me. There was no sense in coming in here. What could you do?’
‘Well, what are you doing?’ grumbled the other.
‘Sitting with a man,’ retorted the woman tartly, ‘who is keeping me from my duty both to my mistress and to His Excellency. Perhaps I shall have something to say when we return to Berlin about the foolishness of my comrade.’
‘I am only doing what I conceive to be my duty.’
‘Conceive it in a more sensible manner in the future. You will look rather ridiculous if you are caught here.’
‘I will not be caught,’ was the confident reply. ‘I will sit here until the guests are gone, and all is silent; then I will quietly go away.’
Foster, however, had other ideas. The discovery that the baroness was being spied upon by orders of the very man who gave her his confidence had roused a feeling of utter contempt in him. Like the German woman, he was inclined to say, ‘A fine lover indeed!’ But was von Strom Sophie’s lover? From the very depths of his heart Foster hoped that he was not. The very thought gave him a sense of dismay; he hated the idea of any man having anything but the purest relationship with the girl he had already learnt greatly to admire. Of one thing he was convinced: the Baroness von Reudath must have been the recipient of very important secrets of the German Supreme Marshal, despite what the people he had overheard had said, otherwise, why should it be necessary to spy on her? It appeared that Sophie, after all, possessed the information which it was Foster’s duty to collect. More than ever now his task appeared distasteful to him. But it was his intention to put a stop, if he could, to the activities of the man who had so confidently stated that he would not be caught. He did not wish to appear himself in the affair, because of his future actions, but he knew Major Brien and Sir Leonard Wallace were present at the reception. He had caught sight of them once or twice. Perhaps he would be able to get hold of one of them, and tell him before the fellow moved from his retreat. Waiting until the German maid had gone, Foster crept quietly towards the house. He was fortunate. The guests were departing, but he came upon Major Brien talking to a friend in an alcove. A Secret Service man engaged on a mission does not openly speak to another he may meet who is not in the case with him. But there are methods by which they indicate that they wish to communicate with each other. Foster passed close by Major Brien softly whistling a certain tune. He took no notice of his superior, but walked on into a little room which he found vacant, and entered. There he waited. In less than two minutes Brien strolled in; closed the door behind him.
‘Well?’ he queried in a low tone.
Foster plunged quickly into a succinct account of the conversation he had overheard, concluding by repeating the man’s statement that he would wait where he was until the way was clear.
‘I thought,’ went on the young man, ‘that it might be a good idea, sir, if he is discovered and arrested for trespassing. It would then mean that the baroness would for the future be watched by one person only, and one who is more or less sympathetically disposed towards her.’
Brien shook his head slowly.
‘As soon as the woman knew that her fellow spy had been apprehended,’ he declared, ‘she would inform her employer, and someone else would be sent to take his place. It is much wiser to allow this fellow to go free, unsuspecting that he is known; then, for the future, you will have the advantage of knowing him as well as the woman when you see him, and can be on your guard accordingly. You obtained a glimpse of him, of course?’
Foster’s jaw dropped. He had been too full of the idea of having the fellow arrested for trespassing to think about endeavouring to see what he was like. He confessed his omission very apologetically. Brien frowned a trifle, but did not reprimand him.
‘You’d better get back as quickly as you can,’ he ordered, ‘and do your best to repair the error. You may be in time. Be careful he does not see you or suspect your presence. Afterwards go to Sir Leonard’s house and, if he is not there, wait for him.’ Foster hurried away without another word. As the door closed behind him, Brien slowly shook his head as though stricken with a feeling of doubt. ‘I wonder,’ he murmured to himself, ‘if his lack of experience is going to let him down on this job!’
Feeling a little dismayed and rather annoyed with himself for failing to see the matter from the same angle as had Major Brien, Foster returned to the gardens, and stealthily made his way in the direction of the clump of rhododendrons. He made up his mind then and there that, in the future, he would weigh up every possibility before taking action. He had been given a demonstration on how risky it was to act on impulse; wondered why it had not occurred to him that it would be a great advantage to know the spy, also that the fellow’s arrest would only mean his being replaced by another whose identity was unlikely to be revealed to him. He reached the great clump of evergreen shrubs without making a sound, and positioned himself where he knew he was bound to see the German when he emerged. The moon had set, but the multitude of little electric lamps still remained alight, and would provide ample illumination to enable him to obtain a very fair view of the trespasser. Several minutes passed by, and he began to fear that the man had already gone. Gradually a feeling of despair began to take possession of him. What a fool he had been to lose an opportunity which, he now realised, would have meant so much to him in the future. He was young and inexperienced, and perhaps may be forgiven for almost permitting a groan to escape from his lips at the thought that he had blundered right at the beginning of his first big job as a Secret Service agent. It was fortunate that he suppressed it.
Nearly a quarter of an hour had passed, and he was quite certain in his own mind that the German had gone, when suddenly, without warning, a man stepped into the open, glanced cautiously about him, and went hurriedly but with stealthy tread towards the mews at the rear. A great wave of relief surged through Foster, as his eyes eagerly took in an indelible, though perhaps somewhat blurred, portrait of the fellow who had been sent to watch the Baroness von Reudath. He was of medium height, rather stockily built. A soft hat was drawn low over his forehead, but, as he had looked up towards the house, Foster had glimpsed a clean-shaven, hawklike face, with large gleaming eyes and flashing teeth. Above all, a scar ran from the lobe of his left ear to the point of his chin. The Secret Service man was satisfied that he would recognise the German again anywhere. As he knew his first name was Carl and would also recognise his voice, he now felt no fears for the future.
It was a much happier young man who returned to the house than he who had left it. All the guests were gone, and only a few servants were about. They viewed Foster’s appearance with a good deal of surprise, but, yawning prodigiously and murmuring to the butler that he must have fallen asleep in the garden, the Secret Service agent departed, found his car, and drove to Sir Leonard Wallace’s residence in Piccadilly. He was shown at once to the cosy study which the chief designated as his den. There he found both Sir Leonard and Major Brien awaiting him. They greeted him with friendly smiles, and he was told to mix himself a drink, and sit down.
‘Did you succeed in obtaining a view of the fellow?’ asked Wallace.
‘Yes, sir,’ replied Foster.
He proceeded to give a description of the German, but was cut short.
‘I also saw him and the woman,’ explained Sir Leonard. He smiled at the look of surprise on the young man’s face. ‘I watched you and the baroness go to that delightfully secluded spot among the rhododendrons,’ he went on, ‘and witnessed the arrival of the woman. When you and the baroness returned to the house, I followed the maid. Close to it she met the man who had apparently been in hiding there. He accosted her, and they returned to the arbour. I had the satisfaction of listening to their conversation from the beginning. As the woman repeated your discussion with the baroness practically word for word, I was able to assure myself that nothing was said of a nature dangerous either for you or for Sophie von Reudath.’
Foster felt rather puny somehow as he listened with wide-open eyes – and ears – to the chief’s recital.
‘Did you know I was there, sir?’ he asked.
‘I saw you arrive,’ nodded Wallace, and again the young man felt very small. It had never occurred to him that another person might have been listening to the conversation he had overheard. ‘Don’t look so dismayed!’ smiled Sir Leonard. ‘I took good care that nobody would see me. If you had searched you would not have discovered me. You have done very well, Foster; very well indeed. All I wish to urge upon you is not to act on impulse in the future. “Look before you leap” is a pretty good maxim for a young Secret Service man.’
Foster felt grateful for the kindly words. Nevertheless, he still considered that he had made rather a bad mess of things that night. If the chief and Major Brien had not been present at the reception he was rather of the opinion that he would have made a complete muddle of the whole affair. Sir Leonard realised how he was feeling, but added nothing further by way of comfort. He was well satisfied that his junior would be all the better for the chastening effects that a little harmless blunder or two would have upon him. Better for him to make a small error at the commencement of his career, when he was under supervision and could benefit from it, than a tragic mistake later on when he was working entirely on his own.
‘We have been discussing,’ resumed Wallace, ‘whether it would be wise to inform the baroness that her actions are being spied upon. On the whole I am inclined to refrain from giving her warning. Knowledge of that sort might quite well render her so indignant that a breach might take place between her and von Strom. In that event she herself would probably suffer severely and, at the same time, we should not be able to obtain all the information we desire from her, for though it is plain she must know a good deal, I don’t think she is aware of everything – yet. Keeping her in the dark about the man and woman spying on her means that an extra duty devolves on you, Foster. Not only must you do your utmost to discover what she knows, but you must protect her from these people, and prevent any suspicions rising in their minds against her. I was delighted to find that you got on so very well with her.’ He smiled. ‘Not a difficult matter to become infatuated with a woman like that, is it, Foster?’
‘It would be difficult not to, sir,’ returned the young man frankly, adding a little diffidently: ‘I believe she is absolutely straight, sir, and not at all the kind to betray a secret confided to her.’
‘I agree with you, absolutely.’ nodded Sir Leonard. ‘I took the opportunity of studying her, and am quite convinced that mentally and morally she is as beautiful as she is physically. That renders your job a hundred times more difficult – and more distasteful, too, I’ve no doubt. But it is your job, and you must allow no other considerations but that fact to creep into your mind. I believe you are calling on her tomorrow?’
‘Yes, sir. At four o’clock. She suggested the time herself.’
‘Excellent. She obviously likes you, which is the main thing. Next week she goes to Budapest. When she informs you, beg her to allow you to accompany her. By then you must appear hopelessly in love with her. We’ll hope she will have fallen in love with you.’
Foster looked down at the carpet rather miserably.
‘It – it seems so horribly low-down, sir,’ he murmured.
Sir Leonard rose and patted him on the shoulder.
‘It is,’ he agreed, ‘but it’s all part of the price you and I, and all of us, have to pay for the privilege of serving our country. You don’t want to back out, do you?’
‘Back out!’ exclaimed Foster, looking up hastily. ‘Never!’
‘Of course you don’t. I have a feeling that when the show is over you won’t find that it has been so distasteful after all.’
‘You mean—’
‘I mean nothing – just yet. Now run along, and don’t lose sight of the fact that you have two spies to keep your eye on and prevent from suspecting either the baroness or yourself.’
‘What about Mrs Manvers-Buller?’ queried Brien. ‘Didn’t those people speak of her as a dangerous woman?’
‘The man certainly did.’
‘In that case, she had better be warned, hadn’t she?’
Sir Leonard smiled broadly.
‘Leave her to me, Bill,’ he suggested. ‘I’ll take care of her, while the baroness is in London anyway. Later on she’ll have someone else to take care of her – though she’s perfectly capable of taking care of herself.’
‘What do you mean by someone else taking care of her?’ demanded Brien.
‘Haven’t you heard? This evening she accepted the hand and heart of Major Protheroe of the Horse Guards.’
‘Good Lord!’ exclaimed Foster involuntarily.