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21 Greatest Spy Thrillers in One Premium Edition (Mystery & Espionage Series). E. Phillips Oppenheim
Читать онлайн.Название 21 Greatest Spy Thrillers in One Premium Edition (Mystery & Espionage Series)
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isbn 9788026849964
Автор произведения E. Phillips Oppenheim
Жанр Языкознание
Издательство Bookwire
“My young friend,” he concluded, “in the near future great rewards will find their way to this country. There is no one who has deserved more than you. There is no one who will profit more. That reminds me. There was one little question I had to ask. A friend of mine has seen you on your way back and forth to Camberley three or four times lately. You lunched the other day with the colonel of one of your Lancer regiments. How did you spend your time at Camberley?”
For a moment Norgate made no reply. The moonlight was shining into the room, and Anna had turned out all the lights with the exception of one heavily-shaded lamp. Her eyes were shining as she leaned a little forward in her chair.
“Boko again, I suppose,” Norgate grunted.
“Certainly Boko,” Selingman acknowledged.
“I was in the Yeomanry when I was younger,” Norgate explained slowly. “I had some thought of entering the army before I took up diplomacy. Colonel Chalmers is a friend of mine. I have been down to Camberley to see if I could pick up a little of the new drill.”
“For what reason?” Selingman demanded.
“Need I tell you that?” Norgate protested. “Whatever my feeling for England may be at the present moment, however bitterly I may regret the way she has let her opportunities slip, the slovenly political condition of the country, yet I cannot put away from me the fact that I am an Englishman. If trouble should come, even though I may have helped to bring it about, even though I may believe that it is a good thing for the country to have to meet trouble, I should still fight on her side.”
“But there will be no war,” Selingman reminded him. “You yourself have ascertained that the present Cabinet will decline war at any cost.”
“The present Government, without a doubt,” Norgate assented. “I am thinking of later on, when your first task is over.”
Selingman nodded gravely.
“When that day comes,” he said, as he rose and took up his hat, “it will not be a war. If your people resist, it will be a butchery. Better to find yourself in one of the Baroness’ castles in Austria when that time comes! It is never worth while to draw a sword in a lost cause. I wish you good night, Baroness. I wish you good night, Norgate.”
He shook hands with them both firmly, but there was still something of reserve in his manner. Norgate rang for his servant to show him out. They took their places once more by the window.
“War!” Norgate murmured, his eyes fixed upon the distant lights.
Anna crept a little nearer to him.
“Francis,” she whispered, “that man has made me a little uneasy. Supposing they should discover that you have deceived them, before they have been obliged to leave the country!”
“They will be much too busy,” Norgate replied, “to think about me.”
Anna’s face was still troubled. “I did not like that man’s look,” she persisted, “when he asked you what you were doing at Camberley. Perhaps he still believes that you have told the truth, but he might easily have it in his mind that you knew too many of their secrets to be trusted when the vital moment came.”
Norgate leaned over and drew her towards him.
“Selingman has gone,” he murmured. “It is only outside that war is throbbing. Dearest, I think that my vital moments are now!”
CHAPTER XXXVII
Mr. Hebblethwaite permitted himself a single moment of abstraction. He sat at the head of the table in his own remarkably well-appointed dining-room. His guests—there were eighteen or twenty of them in all—represented in a single word Success—success social as well as political. His excellently cooked dinner was being served with faultless precision. His epigrams had never been more pungent. The very distinguished peeress who sat upon his right, and whose name was a household word in the enemy’s camp, had listened to him with enchained and sympathetic interest. For a single second he permitted his thoughts to travel back to the humble beginnings of his political career. He had a brief, flashlight recollection of the suburban parlour of his early days, the hard fight at first for a living, then for some small place in local politics, and then, larger and more daring schemes as the boundary of his ambitions became each year a little further extended. Beyond him now was only one more step to be taken. The last goal was well within his reach.
The woman at his right recommenced their conversation, which had been for a moment interrupted.
“We were speaking of success,” she said. “Success often comes to one covered by the tentacles and parasites of shame, and yet, even in its grosser forms, it has something splendid about it. But success that carries with it no apparent drawback whatever is, of course, the most amazing thing of all. I was reading that wonderful article of Professor Wilson’s last month. He quotes you very extensively. His analysis of your character was, in its way, interesting. Directly I had read it, however, I felt that it lacked one thing—simplicity. I made up my mind that the next time we talked intimately, I would ask you to what you yourself attributed your success?”
Hebblethwaite smiled graciously.
“I will not attempt to answer you in epigrams,” he replied. “I will pay a passing tribute to a wonderful constitution, an invincible sense of humour, which I think help one to keep one’s head up under many trying conditions. But the real and final explanation of my success is that I embraced the popular cause. I came from the people, and when I entered into politics, I told myself and every one else that it was for the people I should work. I have never swerved from that purpose. It is to the people I owe whatever success I am enjoying to-day.”
The Duchess nodded thoughtfully.
“Yes,” she admitted, “you are right there. Shall I proceed with my own train of thought quite honestly?”
“I shall count it a compliment,” he assured her earnestly, “even if your thoughts contain criticisms.”
“You occupy so great a position in political life to-day,” she continued, “that one is forced to consider you, especially in view of the future, as a politician from every point of view. Now, by your own showing, you have been a specialist. You have taken up the cause of the people against the classes. You have stripped many of us of our possessions—the Duke, you know, hates the sound of your name—and by your legislation you have, without a doubt, improved the welfare of many millions of human beings. But that is not all that a great politician must achieve, is it? There is our Empire across the seas.”
“Imperialism,” he declared, “has never been in the foreground of my programme, but I call myself an Imperialist. I have done what I could for the colonies. I have even abandoned on their behalf some of my pet principles of absolute freedom in trade.”
“You certainly have not been prejudiced,” she admitted. “Whether your politics have been those of an Imperialist from the broadest point of view—well, we won’t discuss that question just now. We might, perhaps, differ. But there is just one more point. Zealously and during the whole of your career, you have set your face steadfastly against any increase of our military power. They say that it is chiefly due to you and Mr. Busby that our army to-day is weaker in numbers than it has been for years. You have set your face steadily against all schemes for national service. You have taken up the stand that England can afford to remain neutral, whatever combination of Powers on the Continent may fight. Now tell me, do you see any possibility of failure, from the standpoint of a great politician, in your attitude?”
“I do not,” he answered. “On the contrary, I am proud of all that I have done in that direction. For the reduction of our armaments I accept the full responsibility. It is true that I have opposed national service. I want