"It is a secret of his own. But, curiously enough, I am aware of the reason, and that is why I have sought you. Would it surprise you if I told you that in a certain quarter in France it will, in a few days, be known that the German Emperor is establishing a movement for an _entente_ between Germany and Britain, and that the whole affair is based upon a fraud? The Emperor wants no _entente_, but only war with France and with Britain. The whole plot will be exposed in a few days!"

"From what source have you derived this knowledge?" I asked, looking at her in amazement that she should know one of the greatest State secrets of Germany.

But she again smiled mysteriously, and said:

"I merely tell you this in order to prove to you that I am in possession of certain facts known to but few people."

"You evidently are," I said. "But who intends to betray the truth to France?"

"I regret, Count, that I cannot answer your question."

"If you are, as you say, the Crown-Prince's friend, it would surely be a friendly act to let us know the truth, so that steps may be taken, perhaps, to avoid the secret of Germany's diplomacy from leaking out to her enemies."

"All I can tell you, Count, is that the matter is one of gravest importance."

"But will you not speak openly, and give us the actual facts?"

"I will--but to His Imperial Highness alone," was her answer.

"You wish to meet him, then?" I asked, rather suspicious that it might after all be only a woman's ruse. And yet what she had said showed that she knew the Emperor's secret, for she had actually mentioned Von Gessler's name in connection with the pretended Anglo-German _entente_.

"If His Highness will honour me with an interview, then I will reveal all I know, and, further, will suggest a means of preventing the truth from leaking out."

"But you are French," I said.

"I have told you so," she laughed. "But probably His Highness will refuse to see Julie de Rouville, therefore I think it best if you show him this."

From her little gold chain-purse she produced a small, unmounted photograph of herself, and handed it to me.

"When he recognizes who wishes to see him he will fully understand," she said, in a quiet, refined voice. "A letter addressed to Julie de Rouville at the Post Restante at Ma.r.s.eilles will quickly find me."

"At Ma.r.s.eilles?" I echoed.

"Yes. I do not wish the letter to be sent to me here. From Ma.r.s.eilles I shall duly receive it."

I was silent for a few moments.

"I confess," I exclaimed at last. "I confess I do not exactly see the necessity for an interview with His Highness, when whatever you tell me--as his personal-adjutant--will be regarded as strictly in confidence."

Truth to tell, I was extremely suspicious of her. She might be desirous of meeting the Prince with some evil intent.

"I have already said, Count Heltzendorff, that I am His Highness's friend, and wish to approach him with motives of friendship."

"You wish for no payment for this information, eh?" I asked suspiciously, half believing that she might be a secret agent of France.

"Payment--of course not!" she answered, half indignantly. "Show that photograph to the Crown-Prince, and tell him that I apply for an interview."

Then, rather abruptly, she rose, and, thanking me, wished me good afternoon, and walked away, leaving me with her photograph in my hand.

The Crown-Prince was out motoring, and did not get back to the Villa until after seven o'clock.

As soon as I heard of his return I went to his room, and recounted my strange adventure with the dark-haired young woman in black. He became keenly interested, and the more so when I told him of her secret knowledge of the Kaiser's intended establishment of a bogus _entente_ with Great Britain.

"She wishes to see you," I said. "And she told me to give you her photograph."

I handed it to him.

At sight of it his face instantly changed. He held his breath, and then examined the photograph beneath the light. Afterwards I noticed a strange, hard look at the corners of his mouth, while his teeth set themselves firmly.

Next second, however, he had recovered his self-possession, and with a low laugh said:

"Yes. Of course, I know her. She wants me to write to Julie de Rouville at the Post Restante at Ma.r.s.eilles, eh? H'm--I'll think it over."

And I could see that sight of the photograph had not only displeased him, but it also caused him very considerable uneasiness.

Late in the afternoon, two days later, His Highness, who had been walking alone, and who had apparently evaded the vigilance of the ever-watchful Eckardt, returned to the Villa with a stranger, a tall, rather thin, fair-haired man, undoubtedly a German, and the pair were closeted together, holding counsel evidently for a considerable time.

Where His Highness met him I knew not, but when later on I entered the room I saw that the pair were on quite friendly terms.

His Highness addressed him as Herr Schafer, and when he had left he told me that he was from the Wilhelmstra.s.se, and had been attached to the Emba.s.sy at Washington, and afterwards in London, "for affairs of the Press"--which meant that he was conductor of the German Press propaganda.

It seemed curious that the young man Schafer should be in such high favour with the Crown-Prince.

I watched closely. Whatever was in progress was a strict secret between the pair. The more I saw of Hans Schafer the more I disliked him. He had cruel eyes and heavy, sensuous lips--a coa.r.s.e countenance which was the reverse of prepossessing, though I could see that he was a very clever and cunning person.

For a full fortnight the Crown-Prince and the man Schafer were almost inseparable. Was it for the purpose of meeting Schafer that we had gone to Nice? The man had been back from London about two months, and had, I learnt, been lately living in Paris.

One evening while strolling in the sunset by the sea along the tree-lined Promenade des Anglais, I suddenly encountered Julie de Rouville, dressed in mourning, a quiet, pathetic figure, just as we had last met.

I instantly recollected that since the evening when I had given her photograph to the Crown-Prince he had never mentioned her, and I could only believe that for some mysterious reason sight of the picture had recalled some distasteful memory.

"Ah, Count!" she cried, as I halted and raised my hat. "This is, indeed, a welcome meeting! I have been looking out for you for the past two days."

"I've been staying over at Cannes," was my reply. "Well?"

She indicated a seat, and upon it we sat together.

"I have to thank you for giving my photograph and message to His Highness," she said in that sweet, refined voice that I so well remembered.

"I trust that the Crown-Prince has written to you--eh?"

She smiled, a trifle sadly I thought.

"Well, no----" was her rather vague reply.

"Then how are you aware that I gave your message?"

She shook her head and again smiled.