"You will listen, then to what I have to say," the envoy proceeded, "or that letter will be published in the Times to-morrow morning. You know what that will mean--your political ruin, your everlasting disgrace. What use will this country, blinded at the present moment by prejudice, have for a statesman, who without authority, pledged his Government to an alliance with Germany, who over his own signature--""Stop!" Lord Romsey interrupted. "There is no purpose in this. What is it you want?""Your influence in the Cabinet. You are responsible for this war. It is for you to end it.""Rubbish!" the other exclaimed hoarsely. "You are attempting to saddle me with a responsibility like this, simply because my personal sympathies have always been on this die of the country you are representing.""It is not a question of your personal sympathies," Mr. Sidney returned swiftly. "In black and white you pledged your Government to abstain from war against Germany.""How could I tell," the statesman protested, "that Germany was thinking of tearing up treaties, of entering into a campaign of sheer and scandalous aggression?""You made no stipulations or conditions in what you wrote," was the calm reply. "You pledged your word that your Government would never declare war against Germany. You alluded to the French entente as an unnatural one. You spoke eloquently of the kinship of spirit between England and Germany."Lord Romsey moved uneasily in his chair. He had expected to find this an unpleasant interview and he was certainly not being disappointed.
"Well, I was mistaken," he admitted. "What I said was true enough. I never did believe that the Government with which I was associated would declare war against Germany. Even now, let me tell you that there isn't a soul breathing who knows how close the real issue was. If your people had only chosen any other line of advance!""I have not come here to recriminate," Mr. Sidney declared. "That is not my mission. I am here to state our terms for refraining from sending your letters--your personal letters to the Kaiser--to the English Press."Lord Romsey sprang to his feet.
"Good God, man! Do you know what you are saying?" he exclaimed.
"Perfectly," the other replied. "I told you that my errand was a serious one.
Shall I proceed?"
The Minister slowly resumed his seat. From behind the electric lamp his face was ghastly white. In that brief pause which followed he seemed to be looking through the walls of the room into an ugly chapter of his future. He saw the headlines in the newspapers, the leading articles, the culmination of all the gossip and mutterings of the last few months, the end of his political career--a disgraceful and ignoble end! Surely no man had ever been placed in so painful a predicament. It was treason to parley. It was disgraceful to send this man away.
"Germany wants peace," his visitor continued calmly. "She may not have accomplished all she wished to have accomplished by this war, and she is still as strong as ever from a military point of view, but she wants peace. I need say no more than that."Lord Romsey shook his head.
"Even if I had the influence, which I haven't," he began, "it isn't a matter of the Government at all. The country would never stand it.""Then you had better convert the country," was the prompt reply. "Look upon it as your duty. Remember this--you are the man in all this world, and not the Kaiser, who is responsible for this war. But for your solemn words pledging your country to neutrality, Germany would never have forced the issue as she has done. Now it is for you to repair the evil. I tell you that we want peace. The first overtures may come ostensibly through Washington, if you will, but they must come in reality from you."The Minister leaned back in his chair. His was the calmness of despair.
"You might as well ask me," he said simply, "to order our Fleet out of the North Sea."Mr. Sidney rose to his feet.
"I think," he advised, "that you had better try what you can do, Lord Romsey.
We shall give you little time. We may even extend it, if we find traces of your influence. You have two colleagues, at least, who are pacifists at heart. Take them on one side, talk in a whisper at first. Plant just a little seed but be careful that it grows. We do not expect impossibilities, only--remember what failure will mean to you."Lord Romsey looked steadfastly at his visitor. Mr. Sidney was tall and spare, and there was certainly nothing of the Teuton or the American in his appearance or accent. His voice was characterless, his restraint almost unnatural. Relieved of his more immediate fears, the Minister was conscious of a renewed instinct of strong curiosity.
"How can I communicate with you, Mr.--Sidney?" he asked.
"In no way," the other replied. "When I think it advisable I shall come to see you again.""Are you an American or a German or an Englishman?""I am whichever I choose for the moment," was the cool response. "If you doubt my credentials, I can perhaps establish myself in your confidence by repeating the conversation which took place between you and the Kaiser on the terrace of the Imperial Palace at Potsdam between three and four o'clock on the afternoon of April the seventh. You gave the Kaiser a little character sketch of your colleagues in the Cabinet, and you treated with ridicule the bare idea that one or two of them, at any rate, would ever consent--""That will do," the Minister interrupted hoarsely.
"Just as you will," the other observed. "I wish you good-day, sir. The issue is before you now quite plainly. Let us soon be able to appreciate the effect of your changed attitude."Lord Romsey touched his bell in silence and his visitor took a grave and decorous leave. He walked with the secretary down the hall.
"These are sad days for all of us," he said benignly. "I have been telling Lord Romsey of some of my experiences in Brussels. I was American chaplain at the new church there when the war broke out. I have seen sights which I shall never forget, horrors the memory of which will never leave me."The secretary nodded sympathetically. He was trying to get off early, however, and he had heard a good deal already about Belgium.
"Will you let one of the servants fetch you a taxicab?" he suggested.
"I prefer to walk a little distance," Mr. Sidney replied. "I am quite at home in London. I was once, in fact, invited to take up a pastorate here. I wish you good-day, sir. I have had a most interesting conversation with your chief, a conversation which will dwell for a long time in my memory."The secretary bowed and Mr. Sidney walked slowly to the corner of the Square.
Arrived there, he hailed a passing taxicab which drew up at once by the side of the kerb. In stepping in, he brushed the shoulder of a man who had paused to light a cigarette. He lingered for a moment to apologise.
"I beg your pardon," he commenced--
For a single moment his self-possession seemed to desert him. He looked into the cold, incurious face of the man in an officer's uniform who was already moving away, as though he had seen a ghost. His hesitation was a matter of seconds only, however.
"It was very clumsy of me," he concluded.
Major Thomson touched his cap as he moved off.
"Quite all right," he said serenely.
