many years.”
“The past still bites?”
“Always.”
The train sped on through long chains of vineyard-covered hills, out into a stretch of flat country, into forests of pines, in the midst of which were great cleared spaces, where, notwithstanding the closely drawn windows, the resinous odour from the fallen trunks seemed to permeate the compartment. Presently they slackened speed. Seaman glanced at his watch and rose.
“Prepare yourself, my friend,” he said. “We descend in a few minutes.”
Dominey glanced out of the window.
“But where are we?” he enquired.
“Within five minutes of our destination.”
“But there is not a house in sight,” Dominey remarked wonderingly.
“You will be received on board His Majesty’s private train,” Seaman announced. “The Kaiser, with his staff, is making one of his military tours. We are honoured by being permitted to travel back with him as far as the Belgian frontier.”
They had come to a standstill now. A bearded and uniformed official threw open the door of their compartment, and they stepped on to the narrow wooden platform of a small station which seemed to have been recently built of fresh pine planks. The train, immediately they had alighted, passed on. Their journey was over.
A brief conversation was carried on between Seaman and the official, during which Dominey took curious note of his surroundings. Around the station, half hidden in some places by the trees and shrubs, was drawn a complete cordon of soldiers, who seemed to have recently disembarked from a military train which stood upon a siding. In the middle of it was a solitary saloon carriage, painted black, with much gold ornamentation, and having emblazoned upon the central panel the royal arms of Germany. Seaman, when he had finished his conversation, took Dominey by the arm and led him across the line towards it. An officer received them at the steps and bowed punctiliously to Dominey, at whom he gazed with much interest.
“His Majesty will receive you at once,” he announced. “Follow me.”
They boarded the train and passed along a richly carpeted corridor. Their guide paused and pointed to a small retiring-room, where several men were seated.
“Herr Seaman will find friends there,” he said. “His Imperial Majesty will receive him for a few minutes later. The Baron Von Ragastein will come this way.”
Dominey was ushered now into the main saloon. His guide motioned him to remain near the entrance, and, himself advancing a few paces, stood at the salute before a seated figure who was bending over a map, which a stern-faced man in the uniform of a general had unrolled before him. The Kaiser glanced up at the sound of footsteps and whispered something in the general’s ear. The latter clicked his heels together and retired. The Kaiser beckoned Dominey to advance.
“The Baron Von Ragastein, your Majesty,” the young officer murmured.
Dominey stood at attention for a moment and bowed a little awkwardly. The Kaiser smiled.
“It pleases me,” he said, “to see a German officer ill at ease without his uniform. Count, you will leave us. Baron Von Ragastein, be seated.”
“Sir Everard Dominey, at your service, Majesty,” Dominey replied, as he took the chair to which his august host pointed.
“Thorough in all things, I see,” the latter observed. “Sit there and be at your ease. Good reports have reached me of your work in Africa.”
“I did my best to execute your Majesty’s will,” Dominey ventured.
“You did so well,” the Kaiser pronounced, “that my counsellors were unanimous in advising your withdrawal to what will shortly become the great centre of interest. From the moment of receiving our commands you appear to have displayed initiative. I gather that your personation of this English baronet has been successfully carried through?”
“Up to the present, your Majesty.”
“Important though your work in Africa was,” the Kaiser continued, “your present task is a far greater one. I wish to speak to you for these few minutes without reserve. First, though, drink a toast with me.”
From a mahogany stand at his elbow, the Kaiser drew out a long-necked bottle of Moselle, filled two very beautiful glasses, passed one to his companion and raised the other.
“To the Fatherland!” he said.
“To the Fatherland!” Dominey repeated.
They set down their glasses, empty. The Kaiser threw back the grey military cloak which he was wearing, displaying a long row of medals and decorations. His fingers still toyed with the stem of his wineglass. He seemed for a moment to lose himself in thought. His hard and somewhat cruel mouth was tightly closed; there was a slight frown upon his forehead. He was sitting upright, taking no advantage of the cushioned back of his easy-chair, his eyes a little screwed up, the frown deepening. For quite five minutes there was complete silence. One might have gathered that, turning aside from great matters, he had been devoting himself entirely to the scheme in which Dominey was concerned.
“Von Ragastein,” he said at last, “I have sent for you to have a few words concerning your habitation in England. I wish you to receive your impressions of your mission from my own lips.”
“Your Majesty does me great honour,” Dominey murmured.
“I wish you to consider yourself,” the Kaiser continued, “as entirely removed from the limits, the authority and the duties of my espionage system. From you I look for other things. I desire you to enter into the spirit of your assumed position. As a typical English country gentleman I desire you to study the labour question, the Irish question, the progress of this National Service scheme, and other social movements of which you will receive notice in due time. I desire a list compiled of those writers who, in the Reviews, or by means of fiction, are encouraging the suspicions which I am inclined to fancy England has begun to entertain towards the Fatherland. These things are all on the fringe of your real mission. That, I believe, our admirable friend Seaman has already confided to you. It is to seek the friendship, if possible the intimacy, of Prince Terniloff.”
The Kaiser paused, and once more his eyes wandered to the landscape which rolled away from the plate-glass windows of the car. They were certainly not the eyes of a dreamer, and yet in those moments they seemed filled with brooding pictures.
“The Princess has already received me graciously,” Dominey confided.
“Terniloff is the dove of peace,” the Kaiser pronounced. “He carries the sprig of olive in his mouth. My statesmen and counsellors would have sent to London an ambassador with sterner qualities. I preferred not. Terniloff is the man to gull fools, because he is a fool himself. He is a fit ambassador for a country which has not the wit to arm itself on land as well as by sea, when it sees a nation, mightier, more cultured, more splendidly led than its own, creeping closer every day.”
“The English appear to put their whole trust in their navy, your Majesty,” Dominey observed tentatively.
The eyes of his companion flashed. His lips curled contemptuously.
“Fools!” he exclaimed.
