I went straight to his private room, and found him seated with Kaye, the lynx-eyed chief of the secret service.

The Amba.s.sador's face was pale as death, and his voice trembled as he hoa.r.s.ely acknowledged my salutation.

"Ingram," he said in a low tone, motioning me to close the door, "we have been betrayed!"

"Betrayed? How?" I gasped.

"A copy of the despatch you brought me last night reached the Quai d'Orsay at two o'clock this morning. Our secret agent there has handed a copy of it to Mr. Kaye. The wording of the instructions, as sent to me by the Marquess, is exact. Here it is;" and he held towards me a sheet of that pale yellow paper used in the French Foreign Office, upon which a transcription of the despatch had been hurriedly traced in pencil.

I glanced at it, then stood speechless. The secret despatch had never left my possession. The theft was utterly incredible.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

THE SISTER ARTS.

"But it is absolutely impossible that the despatch has been copied!" I cried, addressing His Excellency, when at last I found tongue. "I saw it written myself, and it never left my belt until I took it out here in your presence!"

"Well," interposed Kaye grimly, turning to Lord Barmouth, "that it has really been copied is quite plain, for you have the copy in your hand.

It was telegraphed to the Quai d'Orsay from Calais at half-past one o'clock this morning, and that copy reached my hands at four, half an hour after I had returned from Berlin. Our secret agent in the French Foreign Office happily lost no time in making us acquainted with our loss."

"Fortunately for us," remarked the Amba.s.sador, pacing the floor from end to end. "Had we remained in ignorance that the secret of our policy was out, we might have found ourselves in a very awkward predicament. But how could the despatch possibly have been copied, when no other eyes have seen it except those of the Marquess and myself? The thing is incredible!"

"Ah! that's the question," observed Kaye. "The French system of espionage has very nearly approached perfection. Even though it be against our grain, as Englishmen, to employ spies ourselves, yet it is daily becoming more necessary. Every nation in the world has its elaborate secret service; therefore, England must not sleep and allow other nations to undermine her prestige."

"I cannot imagine how it is possible that our enemies could have obtained sight of the despatch, even for an instant," I said. "The only other person in the Chief's room at Downing Street while he was writing was Boyd, who helped him seal it. I then took it, drove in a cab to the club, and there placed it in my belt beneath my clothes. It never left my person until, in the smoking-room here, I took it out and handed it to His Excellency."

"The telegram was despatched from the maritime station at Calais by some person who signed his name as `Gaston.' He is evidently known to our friends at the Quai d'Orsay."

There was a brief and painful pause. Such a catastrophe staggered belief. Surely the spies of France did not use the Roentgen rays in order to read the letters carried on one's person! It would almost appear as though they did.

"Fate seems entirely against us, Ingram," observed Lord Barmouth, breaking the silence at last. "In every effort we are thwarted by these scoundrelly spies. Our most secret instructions leak out in a way that is absolutely unaccountable. Indeed, the position has now become so critical that I dread to contemplate the result. In the matter of Ceuta we had an ill.u.s.tration of the marvellous astuteness of our enemies, while to-day here is an example much more alarming. And further, we must send home a despatch acknowledging ourselves checkmated. Our position is an ignominious one--most ignominious," he added vehemently.

"If I were at fault I would willingly bear any blame attaching to my actions," I said in a tone of protest; "but as far as I am aware I am utterly blameless in this matter."

"I do not seek to fix any culpability upon you, Ingram," His Lordship hastened to a.s.sure me. "While serving under me you have always done your duty with a thoroughness and tact worthy of the British diplomatist. All I can say is that it is excessively unfortunate for us all, and for the nation at large. Those instructions there, as you will see, are of the highest importance at this juncture; but we are now quite unable to act because our secret intentions have become common property. They will probably be in the _Figaro_ to-morrow."

"The whole affair is at present a complete enigma," observed Kaye, who, turning to me, added: "If you cannot give us any clue whatever, I can't see what can be done."

"I can give you absolutely no clue," I answered, utterly bewildered by this amazing turn of events. "All I know is what I have just related."

The chief of the secret service turned his eyes full upon me, and asked slowly:

"You have, for instance, held no further communication with Mademoiselle de Foville?" Mention of that name caused me to start. All came back to me--how that the Amba.s.sador had suspected her, and Kaye himself had declared that she was a spy.

"She left Paris before I went to London. I have no idea of her whereabouts."

"You do not suspect that she was in London at the same time as yourself?" he asked. "I mean, you saw nothing of her?"

"Absolutely nothing."

"And on the several occasions when you called upon her in the Rue de Courcelles you gave her no idea of the policy which His Excellency was pursuing? I know you visited her several times, for, suspecting her, I had placed a watch upon her movements."

"I told her absolutely nothing," I answered, annoyed that this man should think fit to spy upon me.

"Strange," he said thoughtfully. "Now that is really very strange, because her subsequent actions would appear to give colour to the theory that she learnt from you some secret which she was strenuously endeavouring to obtain."

"I don't quite follow you."

"Well, I have ascertained that the French Amba.s.sador in Berlin has been receiving full reports of the progress of our actions regarding Ceuta."

"From her?" I asked quickly.

"Not exactly from her, but through her."

"Then that woman is actually a spy!" cried His Excellency.

"Without the slightest doubt," responded Kaye. "My inquiries in Berlin and Brussels have substantiated our suspicions. She is one of the smartest secret agents in Europe."

"I know that she is a friend of Wolf's, but what proof have you that she has any connection with the Ministry of Foreign Affairs?"

"I have obtained proof--absolute proof," he answered.

"In what manner?"

"By inquiries I made in Berlin. She is well known in the Wilhelmstra.s.se. She was compelled to fly from Germany because it leaked out that she was a French spy."

"Cannot you give me any further explanation?" I urged. "I am much interested, as she was once my intimate friend."

"Yes," interposed the Amba.s.sador, "unfortunately so. It was once rumoured, Ingram, that you actually intended to marry her."

"Or rather," observed Kaye, "she intended, for her own purposes, to marry Mr. Ingram, I think."

I pursed my lips, but made no response. My reflections at that moment were bitter enough without these observations from my friends.

"But do you suspect that she has had a hand in our latest betrayal?" I inquired a few minutes later. "You have just alleged that she is in the French service. If so, it hardly seems credible that she would give her information to the French Amba.s.sador in Berlin."

"On that point I am not yet absolutely certain," Kaye responded. "I am, however, quite convinced that the exposure of our plans regarding Ceuta filtered to the French through their Emba.s.sy in Berlin."

"Then, contrary to supposition, de Hindenburg, the German Amba.s.sador here, may be a.s.sisting France against us?" I said in surprise.

"It seems much like it. Our inquiries all tend towards that theory.

The German Amba.s.sador has of late had almost daily interviews with the Minister of Foreign Affairs. These are generally believed to be in connection with the Samoan difficulty or the Transvaal; but without doubt the chief subject of discussion has been the formation of a plan whereby to checkmate our policy towards Spain in the matter of Ceuta."

"Well, up to the present they have done so," the Amba.s.sador admitted, turning sharply upon his heel from the window, out of which he had been gazing moodily. "We appear to be arriving at a most critical stage, for what with the constant Anglophobe feeling here, the vile attacks of the Paris Press, the disgusting caricatures of Her Majesty and her subjects, and the army of spies surrounding us on every side, honest, straightforward diplomacy--the diplomacy which should preserve the peace of Europe--is well-nigh impossible. In all my career in the service I never knew a blacker outlook than at this moment--never, never!"

"The complications that have arisen are due entirely to spies," I remarked.

"They are due, it appears, mainly to your friend, Yolande de Foville,"