"The cruel part is," he said softly, "that it should have come in my administration, when for ten years I have prayed from the Opposition benches for the one thing which would have made us safe to-day."

"An army," murmured Bellamy.

"The days are coming," Sir James continued, "when those who prated of militarism and the security of our island walls will see with their own eyes the ruin they have brought upon us. Secretly we are mobilizing all that we have to mobilize," he added, with a little sigh. "At the very best, however, our position is pitiful. Even if we are prepared to defend, I am afraid that we shall see things on the Continent in which we shall be driven to interfere, or else suffer the greatest blow which our prestige has ever known. If we could only tell what was coming!" he wound up, looking once more at those empty sheets of paper. "It is this darkness which is so alarming!"

Bellamy turned toward the door.

"You have the telephone in your bedroom, sir?" he asked.

"Yes, ring me up at any time in the night or morning, if you have news."

Bellamy drove at once to Dover Street. It was half-past one, but he had no fear of not being admitted. Louise's French maid answered the bell.

"Madame has not retired?" Bellamy inquired.

"But no, sir," the woman a.s.sured him, with a welcoming smile. "It is only a few minutes ago that she has returned."

Bellamy was ushered at once into her room. She was gorgeous in blue satin and pearls. Her other maid was taking off her jewels. She dismissed both the women abruptly.

"I absolutely couldn't avoid a supper-party," she said, holding out her hands. "You expected that, of course. You were not at the Opera House?"

He shook his head, and walking to the door tried the handle. It was securely closed. He came back slowly to her side. Her eyes were questioning him fiercely.

"Well?" she exclaimed. "Well?"

"Have you heard from Von Behrling?"

"No," she answered. "He knew that I must sing to-night. I have been expecting him to telephone every moment since I got home. You have seen him?"

"I have seen him," Bellamy admitted. "Either he has deceived us both, or the most unfortunate mistake in the world has happened.

Listen. I met him where he appointed. He was there, disguised, almost unrecognizable. He was nervous and desperate; he had the air of a man who has cut himself adrift from the world. I gave him the money,--twenty thousand pounds in Bank of England notes, Louise,--and he gave me the papers, or what we thought were the papers.

He told me that he was keeping a false duplicate upon him for a little time, in case he was seized, but that he was going to Liverpool Street station to wait, and would telephone you from the hotel there later on. You have not heard yet, then?"

She shook her head.

"There has been no message, but go on."

"He gave me the wrong doc.u.ment--the wrong envelope," continued Bellamy. "When I took it to--to Downing Street, it was full of blank paper."

The color slowly left her cheeks. She looked at him with horror in her face.

"Do you think that he meant to do it?" she exclaimed.

"We cannot tell," Bellamy answered. "My own impression is that he did not. We must find out at once what has become of him. He might even, if he fancies himself safe, destroy the envelope he has, believing it to be the duplicate. He is sure to telephone you. The moment you hear you must let me know."

"You had better stay here," she declared. "There are plenty of rooms. You will be on the spot then."

Bellamy shook his head.

"The joke of it is that I, too, am being watched whereever I go.

That fellow Streuss has spies everywhere. That is one reason why I believe that Von Behrling was serious.

"Oh, he was serious!" Louise repeated.

"You are sure?" Bellamy asked. "You have never had even any doubt about him?"

"Never," she answered firmly. "David, I had not meant to tell you this. You know that I saw him for a moment this morning. He was in deadly earnest. He gave me a ring--a trifle--but it had belonged to his mother. He would not have done this if he had been playing us false."

Bellamy sprang to his feet.

"You are right, Louise!" he exclaimed. "I shall go back to my rooms at once. Fortunately, I had a man shadowing Von Behrling, and there may be a report for me. If anything comes here, you will telephone at once?"

"Of course," she a.s.sented.

"You do not think it possible," he asked slowly, "that he would attempt to see you here?"

Louise shuddered for a moment.

"I absolutely forbade it, so I am sure there is no chance of that."

"Very well, then," he decided, "we will wait. Dear," he added, in an altered tone, "how splendid you look!"

Her face suddenly softened.

"Ah, David!" she murmured, "to hear you speak naturally even for a moment--it makes everything seem so different!"

He held out his arms and she came to him with a little sigh of satisfaction.

"Louise," he said, "some day the time may come when we shall be able to give up this life of anxiety and terrors. But it cannot be yet--not for your country's sake or mine."

She kissed him fondly.

"So long as there is hope!" she whispered.

CHAPTER XI

VON BEHRLING'S FATE

It seemed to Louise that she had scarcely been in bed an hour when the more confidential of her maids--Annette, the Frenchwoman--woke her with a light touch of the arm. She sat up in bed sleepily.

"What is it, Annette?" she asked. "Surely it is not mid-day yet?

Why do you disturb me?"

"It is barely nine o'clock, Mademoiselle, but Monsieur Bellamy--Mademoiselle told me that she wished to receive him whenever he came. He is in the boudoir now, and very impatient."