Her Royal Highness: A Romance of the Chancelleries of Europe
TekstChapter Thirteen.
His Majesty’s Secret
“The problem we have before us is as follows,” His Majesty began, bending towards Waldron from his chair, and speaking in a low, earnest, intense tone. “Some plans of important defences now being constructed upon our Austrian frontier have mysteriously disappeared from the Ministry of War. The theft was discovered at once, but up to the present it is known only to myself, to Ghelardi, our Chief of Secret Police; to General Cataldi, Minister of War, who reported to me this evening, and to three other persons, all of whom have been sworn to absolute secrecy.”
“In what circumstances have they disappeared?” inquired the diplomat.
“I will tell you,” was the King’s reply. “A year ago it was decided in secret by the Council of Defence to construct a chain of hidden fortresses from Feltre along the northern frontier to the Lago di Garda – eight of them, with quick-firing disappearing guns. Six have been constructed, commanding a wide sweep of our neighbour’s territory, and armed with our new long-range artillery, while two others are still in course of construction, the work being carried out in strictest secrecy. For many years the Council of Defence have felt that this portion of our frontier was the most vulnerable of all, but according to our unfortunate treaty with Austria, no strengthening of the defences on either side is permitted.”
“And now the secret is probably out to Austria,” Waldron remarked. “Ah! I follow Your Majesty. The construction of these forts will be construed by Austria into a menace – even into an act of war!”
“Precisely. I see that you at once perceive the extreme gravity of the situation. Italy has been betrayed into the hands of her hereditary enemy, Austria. Ever since the recent riots in Trieste our relations have been greatly strained, and I am informed on the best authority that Austria-Hungary is only waiting an excuse to pick a quarrel and attack us, although her attitude is so diplomatically correct.”
“Then the situation is certainly most grave. There is, I fear, a distinct and imminent peril, Your Majesty.”
“Ah! You agree with me – eh?”
“Entirely,” was Waldron’s answer as he sat, his chin resting upon his hand, deep in thought. “But may I not know more precisely the exact circumstances of this theft?”
“Certainly, every fact within my knowledge is entirely at your disposal, for I am seeking your assistance, I have heard of your successes as a keen investigator of diplomatic secrets, and I appeal to you, Waldron, to assist me in what is a very serious difficulty and a distinct peril to my nation.”
“I am Your Majesty’s obedient servant to command,” was the other’s prompt reply.
“Yes, yes, I greatly appreciate your words,” the monarch said. “Now let me proceed further. The plans were produced at a meeting of the Council of Defence held at the Ministry of War yesterday at twelve o’clock. There had been suggested some strengthening of the fort overlooking the Lago di Garda at Gardone, also the one commanding the Austrian town of Riva, at the farther end of the lake. It was to discuss the details – the addition of guns of greater calibre and further range – that the plans were laid upon the table and examined by the Ministers of War and of Marine as well as the eight other high officers composing the Council. The proceedings were entirely private, of course, even the secretary of the Council being excluded from the council chamber, as he always is when purely confidential business affecting the nation’s secret defences is in progress. On his re-entry the plans in question were handed back to him by the hand of General Cataldi, the Minister of War, but a few minutes later they seem to have been mysteriously spirited away, the secretary of the Council, Lambarini, declaring that he had passed them on to Pironti, private secretary of the Minister.”
“And Lambarini?” queried Waldron. “Is he trustworthy – entirely trustworthy?”
“Entirely. Colonel Lambarini has occupied his position for the past fifteen years, and is thoroughly loyal and patriotic.”
Hubert Waldron drew a deep, long breath. His estimate of the Italian functionary, of whatever grade, was but a low one. He had never yet known any Government official in Italy – be he a humble clerk or a Cabinet Minister – who could not be bought with a price. Alas! that corruption in Italy was a matter of world-wide knowledge.
The King instantly noticed his visitor’s hesitation, and his brows contracted.
“Ah, I see! You suspect Lambarini. But there you are quite wrong, Waldron – quite wrong, I assure you! Too well I know the lack of personal honour at Monte Citorio and in our Government offices. But I know Lambarini. For me that is all-sufficient. When I know a man I trust him.”
“Then I at once withdraw my suspicion,” the diplomat exclaimed quickly. “Your Majesty can read men far better than I can. If you actually know this secretary, Lambarini, then no further word need be said.”
“It is not my desire to prejudice your views in any way, my dear Waldron,” the King assured him with a smile. “I want you to approach this affair with a perfectly open mind. Please understand that to you I am looking for assistance. I am powerless as monarch. I am hoping that you – the friend of my youth – may be able to solve the very serious and critical problem.”
“Of course I will do my best in Your Majesty’s interests,” declared Waldron. “But do please tell me more. What happened after the documents were placed in Lambarini’s hands?”
“He put them at once in the safe in His Excellency’s room.”
“Then he has a key to the safe?”
“It is a safe used for confidential documents when they are taken from the strong-room in the basement up to the Ministry, in order to be inspected. The safe is actually in General Cataldi’s private cabinet.”
“How many keys are there?”
“Three. The General has one,” replied His Majesty. “There is a system of keeping confidential documents, for if one is removed for any purpose, a slip of paper is left in its place bearing the signature of one or other of the three persons who have the key.”
“And has no one access to this safe except the persons Your Majesty has mentioned?”
“No one,” was the King’s reply.
“There must be a false key.”
“Even if one existed that would be useless, for a sentry is on duty outside the Minister’s private cabinet day and night.”
“And has this sentry been questioned?”
“I believe so.”
“By Ghelardi, most probably?”
“I think so.”
“Is Your Majesty aware of the views held by your Chief of Secret Police?”
“He simply declared the whole affair to be a mystery. His suspicion first fell upon Lambarini, just as yours has done. But he afterwards agreed with me that the official named is no traitor.”
“Well – there must be clever espionage at work somewhere,” said Waldron. “A substantial sum must have been paid for those documents, that’s certain. If we could trace money, we could place our hands at once upon the culprit.”
“Agreed,” exclaimed His Majesty, a dark cloud upon his brow. “But I hate to think that any Italian should sell his country’s secrets for foreign gold.”
“Alas! Your Majesty, in every country there are to be found black sheep. Even in our patriotic England we have them, as recent prosecutions have revealed.”
“Ah, yes, I know! But, Waldron, we must find this traitor who has no doubt stirred up against us once more the bitter enmity of Vienna. Three years ago our Secret Service reported a cunning and crafty move by Austria – an intention on her part to encroach into Venetia. There was a deep conspiracy afoot against us just as there was last year against Servia in the Balkans. Had we not discovered it we might have awakened to find Venice and Milan in the enemies’ hands. As it was, Ghelardi – though then in the German Service, but still a patriotic Italian – gave us a timely warning, and we were able to turn the tables upon our enemy. After this discovery the Council of War decided to strengthen our frontier defences in secret – the secret which is now, unfortunately, betrayed to those who wish to crush us.”
“And does Your Majesty desire me to make inquiries independently of the Commendatore Ghelardi – or in association with him?” inquired Waldron thinking deeply, for the problem was a complex one.
“Just as you deem best, Waldron. Act as your own discretion directs you,” the King replied, taking from the table a slip of yellow official paper whereon was scribbled some memoranda.
“I presume that I shall have no difficulty in obtaining the name of the sentry who was on duty outside His Excellency’s door?” the diplomat remarked after a brief silence.
“I have it here,” responded His Majesty. “It is Corporal Tonini, of the 19th Regiment of Bersiglieri – a loyal soldier.”
Hubert took the little gold pencil attached to his watch-chain and scribbled the name on the cuff of his dress-shirt, together with that of the secretaries of Minister of War and that of the Council of Defence.
“I will order Ghelardi to give you every assistance and information, as I desire, Waldron, that you will inquire into this matter upon my own personal behalf. I ask you to do this as a favour – as one who will be very grateful to you for your services. You are independent, and a foreigner, and you have no axe to grind as, alas! they all seem to have who surround me. A king is always the centre of human avarice, of base unscrupulousness, of jealousies, and of the fierce struggle for undeserved honours and emoluments.” Then with a sigh he added: “When one is a Sovereign there is, unfortunately, revealed all the worst side of human nature.”
“Is there any suspicion of a spy of Austria being at present in Rome?” Waldron inquired after a silence broken only by the tramp of the soldiers returning to their quarters on the opposite side of the great paved courtyard.
“Austrian agents are, of course, always among us. A dozen or so are known as residing in the north. But Ghelardi and his staff are ever watchful. You know him, I suppose?”
“I have met him,” replied Hubert vaguely. He dare not tell His Majesty the curious story of their acquaintance, or the circumstances in which he had met his madcap niece.
“Ah! then you will want no introduction. You will find him at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. But perhaps I had better give him instructions,” he added, and turning to his table he scribbled a hasty note, which he enclosed in an envelope and addressed. “If you wish to consult him or others that will prove an open sesame,” smiled His Majesty.
Waldron took the royal mandate with a word of thanks, and placed it securely in his inner pocket.
“Remember,” His Majesty urged very seriously, “in this affair, I beg of you, Waldron, to spare no effort. We must save the situation at all hazards, and though Ghelardi and his agents may make their own inquiries, I rely upon you alone to tell me the truth. Go to your Chief and ask him to relieve you of your present duties for a short time. Tell him that you are carrying out a personal mission for myself, the friend of your youth, and I feel sure he will raise no objection. Great Britain is ever the firm and true friend of myself, and of my beloved nation. But please keep the secret of our loss entirely to yourself.”
“I respect Your Majesty’s confidence as fully and entirely as though it were that of my own Sovereign,” was Waldron’s earnest response.
“I know that I can trust you implicitly,” declared the monarch upon whose countenance the diplomat noted a dark cloud of apprehension. The situation was indeed one of extreme gravity, for the relations between Austria and Italy – never very cordial – had for the past year been much overstrained.
Whatever was the truth concerning the theft of those confidential plans, Waldron suspected from the very outset that one or other of the higher officials had had a hand in it. The onus might be placed upon secretaries, clerks, or sentries, but with the recollection of the many and constantly recurring political scandals in Rome he was inclined to a distinct belief that even one or other of the members of the Council of Defence might be the guilty person who had basely betrayed his country for Austrian gold.
“Then Your Majesty can give me no further details regarding this mysterious disappearance?” Hubert remarked after a pause, during which the King had been toying pensively with his fountain pen, his dark, deep eyes fixed upon the pile of documents awaiting his signature before he retired to rest.
“No. What I have told you comprises the whole facts as reported to me to-day. I have not sought to go further into any detail, for I considered that a shrewd, active man like yourself – and I have heard what your past record in elucidating diplomatic mysteries has been – would have greater chance of getting at the truth if allowed to make inquiries quite independently.”
“And Ghelardi?”
“I have not told him that I intended to consult you.”
“But he may resent it – most naturally he will.”
“Probably. But surely you, as my personal and private agent, will take no heed. Remember that you are working on my behalf alone.”
“But I fear, sir, that he may endeavour to place obstacles in my way,” Waldron remarked.
“And if he does then report instantly to me. I will warn him at once that you are to be given every assistance. Indeed, if you require his services, he shall himself act under your instructions, for am I not Sovereign – and I tell you I intend at all hazards to know the truth regarding this dastardly theft!” cried His Majesty with some warmth.
“I will promise to do my very utmost towards that end,” was Hubert’s reply. “Your Majesty trusts me, and I will in return carry out the mission to the very best of my ability.”
“Those words of yours are all-sufficient for me,” replied the King, rising and gripping his visitor’s hand. “Do your best. Leave no stone unturned, Waldron, and spare no expense on my behalf. Report to me frequently, as I shall be full of anxiety until this matter is cleared up. Count del Grillo will admit you to private audience at any hour. I will give him instructions. Go,” the monarch added. “Do your best on my behalf, and may every good fortune attend you. Upon your efforts will mean the averting of a long and disastrous war. Addio!”
And he again pressed the diplomat’s hand.
The latter bowed low, and with a repeated promise backed out of the royal presence, closing the door after him.
And carrying with him the secret of Italy’s peril, he descended the great marble staircase, where at the foot stood the two gorgeous flunkeys in the royal livery who bowed low as he passed out.
Chapter Fourteen.
Is Mainly Problematical
Hubert Waldron, after a sleepless night, determined to begin his inquiries independently of the famous Chief of Police, Ghelardi, whom he had not met since that memorable evening in Shepheard’s.
It was news to him that the famous European spy had resigned from the service of his masters in Berlin, and returned to the land of his birth. At least, however, there was one consolation, namely, that he would, in his new position, no longer be antagonistic to England.
Waldron’s first impulse when he dressed that morning was to go over to the Ministry and seek him, but on reflection he feared that the old man might be jealous of his interference in the affair. Hence it would best to act independently.
With that object he first went along to the Embassy and had a chat with his Chief and then called upon General Cataldi at the handsome Ministry of War in the Via Venti Settembre. There he explained matters to the short, alert, little white-haired man who, in his smart uniform, received him in his private cabinet. His Excellency was at first much surprised to learn that the Englishman knew so much, but soon expressed his readiness to assist him by every means in his power.
“My first object is to have an interview with Corporal Tonini, of the 19th Bersiglieri,” Hubert said in Italian.
“With pleasure, signore,” replied the dapper Minister who was enjoying one of those long Toscanos so dear to the Italian palate, and he at once pressed a button.
A sentry appeared instantly.
“Tell Major Brusati I wish to see him at once,” he said.
“Yes, Excellency,” replied the man, who saluted and retired.
“This affair, Signor Waldron, is a most serious one for us,” he said a few moments later. “You see yonder. There is the safe in which the plans were – ”
At that moment he was interrupted by the entrance of a burly major of artillery in dark blue uniform with the broad yellow stripe down his blue-grey trousers.
“Brusati, I want Corporal Tonini, Number 34876 19th Regiment of Bersiglieri to be called here at once. This gentleman, Signor Waldron, of the British Embassy, desires an interview with him in private.”
“Benissimo, Excellency,” replied the Major, saluting. “I will telephone over to the barracks at once.”
“And let me know as soon as he arrives.”
“Immediately, Excellency.”
And the officer turned upon his heel and left.
“Your Excellency was pointing out the safe when we were interrupted,” Hubert remarked, noticing that there were three safes in the room. Two were large, heavy ones of a well-known English make, painted dark green, against the left-hand wall, while the other was a smaller one embedded in the wall behind the Minister’s chair.
“It is this,” replied the General rising and approaching the safe in the wall. “From this the documents mysteriously disappeared.”
Hubert also rose from his chair, and going behind the writing-table, stood beside the Minister of War examining the steel door carefully.
“Has Ghelardi been here?” he inquired of His Excellency.
“He was here last night.”
“What did he do?”
“He made a complete examination of it and took photographs of some finger-prints upon the knob and door,” responded General Cataldi, placing his own key in the lock and turning the handle twice, opened the heavy, steel door, disclosing a number of pigeon-holes, wherein reposed quantities of papers.
Waldron carefully inspected the door, and saw that it was by the same excellent maker as the other two.
“There is no question of the papers having been put in one or other of the racks,” the General said. “Confidential papers are always placed in this drawer,” and he opened a small, steel drawer in the bottom of the safe. It was empty.
“Have all these papers been examined?”
“With my secretary, Colonel Pironti, I examined each one last night. The documents in question have undoubtedly disappeared.”
Hubert Waldron stood before the open safe in pensive silence.
Then he bent, and taking his gold, half-hunter watch from his pocket and opening it, used the small lens as a magnifying glass with which he carefully examined the lock of the safe.
“There are no marks of the lock having been tampered with,” he remarked to His Excellency. “A false key must evidently have been used.”
“That is Ghelardi’s opinion.”
Then the diplomat, with His Excellency’s permission, removed the whole of the papers from the safe, and carefully examined the sides and back of the interior, satisfying himself that they were all intact.
“Which wall is this?” he asked, tapping it with his hand.
“The outer wall – in the courtyard,” was the Minister’s prompt reply. “It could not have been attacked from behind, as we are fifty feet from the ground. The exterior wall has already been examined.”
Waldron made no reply. He was thinking deeply – wondering whether, after all, His Excellency, General Cataldi, Minister of War, knew more about the affair than he had admitted? The corruptness of Monte Citorio was too universally known, and Austria would, no doubt, give a very substantial sum for such important information as that which had been stolen.
His Excellency, on his part, stood with his cigar half-smoked between his teeth, a smart figure in his General’s undress uniform, with the green-and-white cross of Maurice and Lazarus at his throat, controller of an army which in case of war would consist of three and a half million men.
Was Hubert’s faint suspicion correct? Regrettable as it was, few men in Italy accepted Ministerial portfolios for the sake of the small remuneration paid to them. Everyone looked to office as a means of increasing his income, from the Minister of Justice down to the most obscure prefect. Therefore, was General Cataldi an exception, or was he endeavouring to fix a scapegoat among his underlings? Such a circumstance was not at all unknown in the modern official life in Rome.
But Hubert Waldron determined not to form any premature theory. He refused to allow his mind to become prejudiced by previous events.
In several notable cases of espionage, particularly when that secret report of the British Admiralty regarding the results of our naval manoeuvres two years before had mysteriously disappeared from Whitehall, he had successfully cleared up the mystery. Indeed, he had earned the thanks of the Prime Minister and of the Sovereign, and had gained his M.V.O. for his clever and untiring efforts, by which he was actually able to wrest the precious and most confidential documents from the possession of the spy – a traitorous Englishman who had acted on behalf of Germany – a man who that same night committed suicide at his house at Richmond, in order to avoid arrest.
Probably it was knowledge of Hubert’s previous successes that had induced His Majesty King Umberto III to invoke his assistance. At any rate His Majesty could scarcely have chosen a keener, or more resourceful man.
He had made a second and most thoroughly exhaustive examination of the safe when Major Brusati entered, saluted, and remarked:
“Corporal Tonini is in the ante-room, Excellency.”
“I will see him alone,” said Hubert, “if I may be permitted?”
“Certainly, signore,” replied His Excellency politely. Then, addressing the Major, he said:
“Take Signor Waldron to the man. He wishes to see him.”
Promising the General to return and make his adieu, Hubert followed the artillery officer out into the corridor to a room on the opposite side.
Waldron opened the door, and at once a soldier, aged about thirty, with a thin face and rather crooked nose, sprang to attention. He wore the dark blue uniform with crimson facings of the renowned Bersiglieri, or riflemen, with his large, round hat with cock’s plumes at the side.
“You are Corporal Tonini?” asked Waldron kindly, as he closed the door and advanced into the bare, severely furnished room, which smelt of stale cigars, as do all the rooms in the Italian Ministries.
“Yes, signore,” replied the soldier, looking askance at the civilian foreigner who had come to question him.
“Sit down,” Waldron said, taking a seat himself. “I had better explain. I am acting on behalf of His Majesty your King, in order to clear up the mystery of the theft of those plans from His Excellency’s room.”
“The plans?” gasped the man, and by his accent Hubert knew that he was not a Roman. “Then you know, signore?”
“You come from Tuscany, Tonini?”
“Si, signore.”
“What part?”
“My home is at Signa, near Firenze.”
And from that moment Hubert Waldron, whose knowledge of Italian was practically perfect, spoke in the Tuscan tongue, using all the aspirated “c’s” and substituting the “r’s” for “l’s” which is the betrayal of the true Florentine or the Livornese.
“I want you, Tonini, to put yourself at once at your ease,” the Englishman said. “First, there is nothing against you, not the slightest breath of suspicion. His Excellency the Minister has told me that you have been an excellent soldier. You fought in Tripoli with distinction, as your medal shows, and you have, I see, the medal for saving life. But I want you to be perfectly frank with me – to help me, as His Majesty wishes you to do.”
“Has His Majesty been told that I was on sentry duty?” asked the corporal.
“Yes, it has been reported to him, and you, as a loyal soldier of your Sovereign, must assist in every way to help me to clear up this mystery. You know the value of those documents, I presume?”
“Yes. They are plans of our new fortresses against Austria,” replied the man in a changed voice, for Hubert’s words had greatly impressed him.
“Then you know it must be a spy of Austria who has stolen them?” Waldron said. “Either a spy in person, or an individual who has sold them to a spy. Which, we do not yet know. Now you were on duty outside His Excellency’s private cabinet, were you not?”
“Si, signore. From noon till four o’clock.”
“The Council of Defence met at noon – just at the time you went on duty. Now tell me exactly who entered or left His Excellency’s room.”
“I will tell you, signore, exactly. I have nothing whatever to conceal,” replied the soldier frankly.
“Of course you have not. If you tell me everything you will greatly assist me in my inquiries.”
“Well, signore, His Excellency came out of the room just as I went on sentry duty, and for half an hour no one else entered. Several clerks and others came to the door, but I did not permit them to go in, and told them His Excellency was absent. At half-past twelve Colonel Pironti, whom I knew as His Excellency’s secretary, came up the stairs, and of course I allowed him to pass in. He was there about ten minutes, when he came out again with a large orange-coloured portfolio in his hand.”
“That contained the papers,” Waldron remarked.
“I suppose so, signore. Then nobody entered the room until Colonel Pironti came back again at half-past two. He had the same orange-coloured portfolio in his hand, and took it inside. When he came out I saw that he had left it within. He had evidently placed it in the safe, for as he came out of the door he was putting a key attached to a chain into his trousers-pocket.”
“And after that?” asked Waldron, his dark eyes fixed intently upon the man he had under examination.
“Well, signore, several gentlemen came to interview His Excellency the Minister, but I, of course, allowed no one to pass. His Excellency himself came back at three o’clock. He remained about ten minutes and then left. His chauffeur came up and told me his car had arrived. I went in and announced the fact.”
“His car!” sniffed Waldron suspiciously. “He was in a hurry to get away – eh?”
“His Excellency had an appointment at the Tivoli – so his chauffeur told me.”
Waldron made a mental note of that curious fact.
“And then?” he asked.
“His Excellency had left about ten minutes when Colonel Lambarini, the secretary of the Council of Defence, came up to the door, which I opened for him, as he always had access to His Excellency’s private cabinet. He was inside for a few seconds when he suddenly rushed out wildly and asked: ‘Who has been here since Colonel Pironti?’ I replied that only His Excellency himself had been there, and had just gone. ‘There has been a theft! Some very important papers have been stolen; and you, as sentry, are responsible!’ I stood aghast. Then he dragged me inside the room, and showed me the safe open, and the drawer was empty.”
“Then you are sure – quite sure that nobody entered that room after His Excellency had left?” asked Waldron earnestly, for that was an extremely important point.
“Nobody, signore. I will swear that as a soldier of Italy, before His Majesty my King – if necessary.”