I ever have mine?” he asked, with a queer little break in his voice.
CHAPTER XXV
Terniloff and Dominey, one morning about six months later, lounged underneath a great elm tree at Ranelagh, having iced drinks after a round of golf. Several millions of perspiring Englishmen were at the same moment studying with dazed wonder the headlines in the midday papers.
“I suppose,” the Ambassador remarked, as he leaned back in his chair with an air of lazy content, “that I am being accused of fiddling while Rome burns.”
“Every one has certainly not your confidence in the situation,” Dominey rejoined calmly.
“There is no one else who knows quite so much,” Terniloff reminded him.
Dominey sipped his drink for a moment or two in silence.
“Have you the latest news of the Russian mobilisation?” he asked. “They had some startling figures in the city this morning.”
The Prince waved his hand.
“My faith is not founded on these extraneous incidents,” he replied. “If Russia mobilises, it is for defence. No nation in the world would dream of attacking Germany, nor has Germany the slightest intention of imperilling her coming supremacy amongst the nations by such crude methods as military enterprise. Servia must be punished, naturally, but to that, in principle, every nation in Europe is agreed. We shall not permit Austria to overstep the mark.”
“You are at least consistent, Prince,” Dominey remarked.
Terniloff smiled.
“That is because I have been taken behind the scenes,” he said. “I have been shown, as is the privilege of ambassadors, the mind of our rulers. You, my friend,” he went on, “spent your youth amongst the military faction. You think that you are the most important people in Germany. Well, you are not. The Kaiser has willed it otherwise. By-the-by, I had yesterday a most extraordinary cable from Stephanie.”
Dominey ceased swinging his putter carelessly over the head of a daisy and turned his head to listen.
“Is she on the way home?”
“She is due in Southampton at any moment now. She wants to know where she can see me immediately upon her arrival, as she has information of the utmost importance to give me.”
“Did she ever tell you the reason for her journey to Africa?”
“She was most mysterious about it. If such an idea had had any logical outcome, I should have surmised that she was going there to seek information as to your past.”
“She gave Seaman the same idea,” Dominey observed. “I scarcely see what she has to gain. In Africa, as a matter of fact,” he went on, “my life would bear the strictest investigation.”
“The whole affair is singularly foolish,” the Prince declared, “Still, I am not sure that you have been altogether wise. Even accepting your position, I see no reason why you should not have obeyed the Kaiser’s behest. My experience of your Society here is that love affairs between men and women moving in the same circles are not uncommon.”
“That,” Dominey urged, “is when they are all tarred with the same brush. My behaviour towards Lady Dominey has been culpable enough as it is. To have placed her in the position of a neglected wife would have been indefensible. Further, it might have affected the position which it is in the interests of my work that I should maintain here.”
“An old subject,” the Ambassador sighed, “best not rediscussed. Behold, our womenkind!”
Rosamund and the Princess had issued from the house, and the two men hastened to meet them. The latter looked charming, exquisitely gowned, and stately in appearance. By her side Rosamund, dressed with the same success but in younger fashion, seemed almost like a child. They passed into the luncheon room, crowded with many little parties of distinguished and interesting people, brilliant with the red livery of the waiters, the profusion of flowers—all that nameless elegance which had made the place society’s most popular rendezvous. The women, as they settled into their places, asked a question which was on the lips of a great many English people of that day.
“Is there any news?”
Terniloff perhaps felt that he was the cynosure of many eager and anxious eyes. He smiled light-heartedly as he answered:
“None. If there were, I am convinced that it would be good. I have been allowed to play out my titanic struggle against Sir Everard without interruption.”
“I suppose the next important question to whether it is to be peace or war is, how did you play?” the Princess asked.
“I surpassed myself,” her husband replied, “but of course no ordinary human golfer is of any account against Dominey. He plays far too well for any self-respecting Ger—”
The Ambassador broke off and paused while he helped himself to mayonnaise.
“For any self-respecting German to play against,” he concluded.
Luncheon was a very pleasant meal, and a good many people noticed the vivacity of the beautiful Lady Dominey whose picture was beginning to appear in the illustrated papers. Afterwards they drank coffee and sipped liqueurs under the great elm tree on the lawn, listening to the music and congratulating themselves upon having made their escape from London. In the ever-shifting panorama of gaily-dressed women and flannel-clad men, the monotony of which was varied here and there by the passing of a diplomatist or a Frenchman, scrupulously attired in morning clothes, were many familiar faces. Caroline and a little group of friends waved to them from the terrace. Eddy Pelham, in immaculate white, and a long tennis coat with dark blue edgings, paused to speak to them on his way to the courts.
“How is the motor business, Eddy?” Dominey asked, with a twinkle in his eyes.
“So, so! I’m not quite so keen as I was. To tell you the truth,” the young man confided, glancing around and lowering his voice so that no one should share the momentous information, “I was lucky enough to pick up a small share in Jere Moore’s racing stable at Newmarket, the other day. I fancy I know a little more about gee-gees than I do about the inside of motors, what?”
“I should think very possibly that you are right,” Dominey assented, as the young man passed on with a farewell salute.
Terniloff looked after him curiously.
“It is the type of young man, that,” he declared, “which we cannot understand. What would happen to him, in the event of a war? In the event of his being called upon, say, either to fight or do some work of national importance for his country?”
“I expect he would do it,” Dominey replied. “He would do it pluckily, whole-heartedly and badly. He is a type of the upper-class young Englishman, over-sanguine and entirely undisciplined. They expect, and their country expects for them that in the case of emergency pluck would take the place of training.”
The Right Honourable Gerald Watson stood
