Très bien, acceded the Baron, while Rigaux, casting away his cigar, settled his cravat before a big mirror at the end of the room, smoothed his hair with both his hands, and left.
Passing down the softly carpeted corridor he paused before a door, and opening it entered, to find himself in a good-sized salon carpeted in Saxe blue, with white enamelled walls and gilt furniture of the style of Louis Quatorze. Over the elegant apartment was suffused a soft light, the source of which was cunningly concealed behind the wide cornice running round the walls, the electric glow being thrown down by the white ceiling itself.
Upon a side-table stood a great silver bowl of La France roses, which filled the room with their fragrance, and near it, in a comfortable chaise-longue, reclined Aimée, looking sweet and dainty in a soft, filmy evening-gown of palest carnation pink.
She looked up from her book, startled, as the door opened, and then, recognising her visitor, rose, rather stiffly, to greet him.
What, all alone, my dear Mademoiselle? exclaimed Rigaux, as though in surprise, as he bowed over her hand. I have been chatting with the Baron, but I expected to find Madame here. Well, and what do you think of all this very alarming news eh?
Awful is it not? the girl replied, inviting him to a chair.
The Baron and I have just been discussing it, and we are of opinion that there will be no war. I notice, however, in the papers to-night, a report of Monsieur Valentins great success in the Affaire of the Rue du Trône. I must congratulate him and yourself.
The girl blushed slightly. It was the first time this man, whom she so heartily hated, had ever mentioned her lover. Indeed, she was not, until that moment, quite certain whether he was aware of her secret whether the Baron had told him.
Yes, she managed to reply at last. It should secure him a foothold in his profession. The papers say that his speech for the defence was apparently one of the most clever and brilliant ever heard in the Courts.
And you, of course, must be justly proud, eh, Mademoiselle? he remarked, looking straight into her beautiful eyes.
Well, I suppose so, she laughed, her fingers toying nervously with the leaves of Bazins latest romance.
He sighed deeply. Then, after a pause, said:
Ah! I only wish that you entertained one little thought for me, Aimée one kindly reflection regarding myself I who love you so.
And, bending, he stretched forth his hand to seize hers. But she swiftly withdrew it.
Oh, why return to that subject again, msieur! she protested impatiently. Its discussion only pains us both. I am fully aware that my father is anxious, for business reasons, that we should marry, but I assure you, once and for all, that I will never accept any man whom I do not love.
You put it well, a trifle bluntly, Mademoiselle.
I only speak the truth, quite openly and frankly, she responded, her big serious eyes turned upon his. Would you have me accept, and afterwards fool you!
Her question a somewhat disconcerting one held him silent for some moments.
Remember, Aimée, he said at last, in a deep voice, I have known you ever since you were a tiny child. I have watched you grow to become a woman, and gradually I have realised that there is no woman in the whole world whom I love except your own dear self. Can you doubt me?
And with an earnest expression that was well feigned, he looked straight into her pale, set countenance.
No, msieur, I do not doubt you, was the girls quiet response, and he fancied he saw her trembling slightly. But when, the other day, you asked if I could ever love you, I told you the bare truth brutal as it may have appeared. Yet I am not mistress of my own heart, and I tell you that I do not love you I can never love you never!
I am too old, he murmured bitterly.
Not that, she responded, shaking her well-poised head. Age matters nothing when a woman really loves.
You love that man Edmond Valentin, he snapped, almost savagely.
She nodded in the affirmative, but no word escaped her lips.
Arnaud Rigaux set his teeth, and his fingers clenched themselves into his palms. But only for a second, and she, with her eyes cast down upon the carpet, did not detect the fire of hatred which shone, for a second, in his crafty, narrow-set eyes.
Next second his manner entirely changed. He was one of those men whose cunning enables them to conceal their feelings so cleverly that, while they smile and hold out the hand of friendship, murder lurks within their heart. This attribute is, alas! one of the elements of success in business in our modern days, and is a habit cultivated by the man whom the world admires as keen and smart.
But, my darling? he exclaimed, in a voice broken by an emotion which was so cleverly feigned that it deceived even her womans sharp observance, you do not know how very deeply I love you, he declared, bending to her, and again trying to take her hand, which, however, she again snatched away and placed behind her. All these years I have watched you grow up, and I have longed and longed for the day when I might beg of you to become my wife. Think of what our marriage would mean to you to your father, the Baron, and to myself. He and I, united, could rule the whole finances of the nation; we could dictate terms to the Chamber, and we should be the greatest power in Belgium next to his Majesty himself. Surely your position as my wife would be preferable to that of the wife of a poor struggling lawyer, however estimable he may be.
She sat listening without interrupting him. She had heard this mans praises sung daily by her father for so long that at last they now fell upon deaf ears. She listened quite coldly to his outpourings, yet, at the moment, she despised him in her innermost heart.
What Edmond had declared was the bare, naked truth. Arnaud Rigaux was only seeking to gain further personal riches and aggrandisement by doing her the honour of offering her his hand in marriage.
Her anger arose within her as his words fell upon her ears. She had not been blind to his stealthy unscrupulousness, for she remembered how, on one occasion, she had overheard her father upbraid him for participating in some shady financial transaction with some electric tramways in Italy, the details of which she, as a woman, had been unable to follow. But her fathers bitter words of reproach had been, to her, all-sufficient. The Baron had told him, openly and plainly, that he had swindled the Italian company, and she had always remembered his outspoken words.
The man seated before her suddenly rose, and unable to take her hand because she was holding it behind her, placed his sensuous grasp upon her shoulder, and bent in an attempt to kiss her.
She turned her head swiftly from his foetid breath. It was nauseous. It caused her a fierce revulsion of feeling.
She sprang up, her eyes aflame in an instant.
Msieur Rigaux! This is intolerable! she protested, drawing herself up in proud defiance. I wish you to remember who I am, and further, I wish you to go to my father and tell him, that no matter what may happen, no matter what pressure he may place upon me, no matter if I die unmarried, I will never become the wife of Arnaud Rigaux. You hear!
He drew back at this obstinate rebuff he whose money bought womens smiles from end to aid of Europe.
In a second he became apologetic.
But, Mademoiselle, I
In a second he became apologetic.
But, Mademoiselle, I
Please leave this room, she ordered, very firmly. If not, I shall ring for the servants. Go! and she pointed determinedly to the door. Go! Describe this scene to my father, and tell him from me, once and for all, that I love Edmond Valentin, and that I intend to marry him.
The mans loose lips hardened. He murmured something which the girl could not catch, but she saw in his eyes, for the first time, the light of a fierce and terrible hatred, as he bowed stiffly, and, turning on his heel, took his congé, and with a fierce imprecation upon his lips strode out of the pretty, artistic room, wherein she stood, an imperious and defiant figure, in the centre of the carpet.
Chapter Four.
The Man from Cologne
Two hours later Arnaud Rigaux entered his small, well-furnished den in the big house on the broad Boulevard de Waterloo, close to the medieval Porte de Hal, that medieval castle-like structure, now the fine Musée dArmes, known to every traveller in Brussds.
Scarcely had he crossed the threshold when his man, a white-haired, ultra respectable-looking valet, ushered in a rather stout, middle-aged man of military bearing, with fair hair and blue-grey eyes. He was wearing a cap and a motor dust-coat.
Ah! my dear Guillaume! I must apologise, Rigaux said. I had no idea you had been waiting for me.
Your servant was unaware where you were. We telephoned to a dozen places. I arrived from Cologne just after nine oclock.
Rigaux glanced at the closed door rather apprehensively, and then in a low voice asked:
What does it all mean?
War, replied the other in a whisper. The Emperor is in Cologne in secret. I had audience with him at three oclock, and he sent me to you. I have to return at once. I was to tell you that his Majesty wishes for your final report.
For a moment the financiers narrow eyes grew serious, and his lips quivered.
The reply from England has not yet been received, his visitor went on, speaking in excellent French, though he was undoubtedly German. But whatever it may be, the result will be the same. Eight Army Corps are moving upon the Luxembourg frontier. They will soon be in Belgium. What a surprise our big howitzers will be for the forts of Namur and Liège eh?
And he laughed lightly, chuckling to himself. Captain Wilhelm von Silberfeld, of the famous Deaths Head Hussars, was a trusted messenger of the Kaiser, a man who had performed many a secret mission for his Imperial Master. He was attached to the General Staff in Berlin, and for hours he had sat in the fast two-seated motor-car, travelling swiftly over the hundred and sixty miles or so of long, straight white roads which led from Cologne to the Belgian capital.
In four days we shall be in Belgium, the German officer whispered. The Emperor, as you know, decided upon war three months ago, and ever since we have been steadily and carefully making the final preparations. What is the opinion here?
The Cabinet meets to-night. The Government do not, even now, believe that Germany really intends to defy Europe, and I, of course, have endeavoured still to lull them to sleep, responded the financier. But I have not been idle these past three days. My reports are all prepared. The last was written at seven oclock this evening.
And crossing to a big, heavy book-case, which occupied the whole of one side of the room, he opened one of the glass doors. Then, pulling forward a section of the books which swung round upon a pivot, there was disclosed the green-painted door of a safe, securely built into the wall. This he opened with a key upon his chain, and from a drawer took out a large envelope filled with papers, which he handed to his visitor.
All are here? asked the other.
Yes. According to instructions I received by courier yesterday, I have prepared the list of names of influential persons in Liège and Louvain the banks, and what cash I believe them to hold. How are you proceeding in Antwerp?
Antwerp is practically a German city. We have, outside the city, six concrete platforms ready for our big howitzers. They were put down two years ago by German residents in their gardens for the English game of tennis, and he laughed. Besides, we have three secret wireless installations of wide range communicating with Nauen, as we also have here in Brussels. Is your wireless here in working order?
S-s-sh, my friend? Rigaux said warningly. I will send Michel out on a pretext, and you shall see. He is loyal, but I trust no man. I never let him know too much.
Then he rang, and his man, white-haired and humble, appeared.
Michel, go down to the Grand Hotel at once and ask for Monsieur Legrand. Tell him I wish to see him. If he will kindly come up here in a taxi.
Bien, msieur! and the grave-faced servant bowed and withdrew.
A few moments later Arnaud Rigaux took from a drawer in his library table an electric torch and led the way up the great wide staircase, through his own bedroom, past a door into a smaller dressing-room, in which was a huge mahogany wardrobe. The door of this he opened, and pushing the back outwards through a line of coats hanging there, a dark opening was revealed. Into this both men passed, finding themselves upon a wooden flight of dusty stairs, up which they ascended for two floors, until they arrived in a long, low attic, beneath the sloping roof of which were suspended, upon porcelain insulators, many thin, black-enamelled wires.
Come! You shall hear for yourself, Rigaux exclaimed; and passing along to the gable-end of the main wall of the house, he paused before two tables, upon which were set out a most complete set of wireless instruments.
To the uninitiated eye those two tables were filled with a most complicated assortment of weird electrical apparatus connected by india-rubber covered wires. To the expert, however, all was quite clear. On the one table stood a receiving-set of the latest pattern, while upon the other was what is technically known as a five kilowatt set, which would transmit wireless messages as far as Nauen, the great wireless station near Potsdam, and, indeed, over a radius of nearly a thousand miles. It was a Marconi set, not Telefunken.
Arnaud Rigaux seated himself upon a stool before the receiving-table, while overhead, insulated from the rafters of the roof, were a hundred bare copper wires strung across and across. His example was followed by Captain von Silberfeld, both clamping the double head-telephones over their ears, listening.
Next instant both heard the buzzing ticks of wireless, so weird and uncanny to those uninitiated.
Da-de, Da-de-da. Da-de, Da-de-da.
It was a call. Then followed the code-letters, B.B.N. with B.Y.B.
Hush! Rigaux exclaimed, glancing at the book at his elbow. The British Admiralty station at Cleethorpes are calling the battleship London.
The big wireless code-book a book which could be bought in Berne for five francs lay open before him. There was a quick response in the phones.
The London is off the west coast of Ireland, he remarked, bending with interest. Theres the reply. Here is London.
He touched the tuner, one of the round ebonite handles upon a long mahogany box, and next moment a little click of quite a different note was heard in the head phones.
Listen? Rigaux exclaimed, and then for a moment he was again all attention. Marseilles is speaking to one of your North German Lloyd liners on her way from Alexandria. Then he paused. Are you satisfied that I am leaving to your army a complete set, quite in working order eh?