22
The bell rang, and a shaken and disorganised Assembly assembled in thehall. The Deputy-President, in an impassioned speech, lamented thesinister disappearance of his three so eminent colleagues. As heremarked, this would not do. Some evil forces were at work, assaultingthe very life of the League, for it must now be apparent that thesedisappearances were not coincidences, but links in a connected chainof crime. What and whose was the unseen hand behind these dastardlydeeds? What secret enemies of the League were so cunningly andassiduously at work? Was murder their object, or merely abduction?Whose turn would it be next? (At this last inquiry a shudder rippledover the already agitated assembly.) But MM. les D?l?gu?s might restassured that what could be done was being done, both for the discoveryof their eminent colleagues, the detection of the assaulters, and theaversion of such disasters in future.
At this point the delegate for Greece leapt to his feet.
"_What_," he demanded, "is being done with this last object? Whatprovision is being made for the safety of our persons?"
His question was vigorously applauded, while the English interpreter,quite unheard, explained it to those in the hall who lacked adequateknowledge of the French language.
The Deputy-President was understood to reply that it was uncertain asyet what effective steps could be taken, but that all the forces oflaw and order in Geneva had been invoked, and that MM. les D?l?gu?swere hereby warned not to go about alone by night, or, indeed, much byday, and not to venture into obscure streets or doubtful-lookingshops.
Mademoiselle the delegate from Roumania demanded the word.Mademoiselle the delegate for Roumania was a large and buxom lady witha soft, mellifluous voice that cooed like a turtle-dove's when shespoke eloquently from platforms of the wrongs of unhappy women andpoor children. This delegate was female indeed. Not hers theblue-stocking sexlessness of the Scandinavian lady delegates, withtheir university degrees, their benign, bumpy foreheads, and theircommittee manners. She had been a mistress of kings; she was a verywoman, full of the _?lan_ of sex. When she swam on to the platform andturned her eyes to the ceiling, it was seen that they brimmed withtears.
"Mon Dieu, M. le Vice-Pr?sident," she ejaculated. "Mon Dieu!" Andproceeded in her rich, voluptuous voice to dwell on the iniquities ofthe traffic in women and children all over the world. The nets ofthese traffickers were spread even in Geneva--that city of goodworks--and who would more greatly desire to make away with the goodmen of the League of Nations than these wicked traffickers? How wellit was known among them that Lord Burnley, Dr. Svensen, and Dr. Changheld strong opinions on this subject....
At this point a French delegate leaped to his feet and made strong andrapid objection to these accusations. No one more strongly than hispure and humane nation disliked this iniquitous traffic in flesh andblood, but the devil should have his due, and there was no proof thatthe traffickers were guilty of the crimes now under discussion. Muchmight be allowed a lady speaker in the height of her womanlyindignation, which did credit to her heart and sex, but scarcely somuch as that.
For a moment it looked like a general squabble, for other delegatessprang to their feet and called out, and the interpreters, dashinground the hall with notebooks, could scarcely keep pace, and every onewas excited except the Japanese, who sat solemnly in rows and watched.For the hold, usually so firm, exercised by the chair over theAssembly, had given way under the stress of these strange events, andin vain did the Deputy-President knock on the table with his hammerand cry "Messieurs! Messieurs! La parole est ? Mademoiselle laD?l?gu?e de la Roumanie!"
But he could not repress those who called out vehemently that "Il nes'agit pas ? present de la traite des femmes; il s'agit seulement dela disparition de Messieurs les D?l?gu?s!" And something unconsideredwas added about those states more recently admitted to the League,which had to be hastily suppressed.
Mademoiselle la D?l?gu?e on the platform continued meanwhile to coo toheaven her indignation at the iniquitous traffic in these unhappywomen, until the Deputy-President, in his courteous and charmingmanner, suggested in her ear that she should, for the sake of peace,desist, whereupon she smiled and bowed and swept down into the hall,to be surrounded by congratulating friends shaking her by the hand.
"M. Menavitch demande la parole," announced the Deputy-President, whoshould have known better. The delegate for the Serb-Croat-Slovenestate stood up in his place (it was scarcely worth while to ascend theplatform for his brief comments) and remarked spitefully that he hadjust (as so often) had a telegram from Belgrade to the effect that athousand marauding Albanians had crossed their frontier and wereinvading Serbia, and that, to his personal knowledge, there was a gangof these marauders in Geneva, and, in his view, the responsibility forany ruffianly crime committed in this city was not far to seek. Hethen sat down, amid loud applause from the Greeks and cries of "shame"from the English-speaking delegates. A placid Albanian bishop rosecalmly to reply. He, too, it seemed, had had a telegram from the seatof his government, and his was about the Serbs, but before he had timeto state its contents the Deputy-President stayed the proceedings."The session," he said, "cannot be allowed to degenerate into anexchange of international personalities."
"And why not?" inquired the Belfast voice of the delegate from Ulster."I'd say the Pope of Rome had some knowledge of this. I wouldn't putit past him to have plotted the whole thing."
"Ask the Black and Tans," his Free State colleague was naturally movedto retort.
"My God," whispered the Secretary-General to the Deputy-President. "Ifthe Irish are off.... We must stop this."
Fortunately, here the delegates for Paraguay eased the situation byproposing that the question of the disappearance of delegates shouldbe referred to a committee to be elected for that purpose, and thatthe voting for that committee should begin forthwith. (The SouthAmerican delegates always welcomed the appointment of committees, forthey always hoped to be on them.) Lord John Lester, one of thedelegates from Central Africa, who was less addicted to committees,thinking that their methods lacked expedition, rose to protest, butwas overruled. The Assembly as a whole would obviously feel happierabout this affair if it were in committee hands, so the elections wereproceeded with at once. The delegate for Central Africa resignedhimself, only remarking that he hoped at least that the sessions ofthe committee would be public, for as he had often said, publicity wasthe life blood of the League.
Journalists in the Press Gallery breathed a sigh of disappointment."In another minute," said the _Times_ to Henry, "we should have hadthe Poles accusing the Lithuanians, the Greeks the Turks, the Turksthe Armenians, and every one the Germans. Already the French arerunning round with a tale about the Germans having done it out ofrevenge for the Silesian decision. Probably it's quite true. Only Iback the Bolshevik refugees to have had a hand in it somewhere too.Well, I shall go lobbying, and hear the latest."
Henry too went lobbying.
In the lobby something of a fracas was proceeding between a member ofthe Russian delegation and a Bolshevik refugee. It seemed that thelatter was accusing the former of having been responsible for thedisappearance of Dr. Svensen, who had always had such a kind heart forstarving Russians, and who had irritated the Whites in old days bysending money to the Bolshevik government for their relief. Theaccusing refugee, who looked a hairy ruffian indeed, was supported byapplause from a claque of Finns, Ruthenians, Lithuanians, Esthonians,Latvians, and others who had a dislike for the Russian Empire. M.Kratzky's well-earned nickname, "Butcher of Odessa," was freely hurledat him, and the Slavs present were all in an uproar, as Slavs will beif you excite them.
Gravely, from a little way off, a group of Japanese looked on.
"Obviously," the _Times_ murmured discreetly, "the Bolshies thinkattack the best form of self-defence. I'm much mistaken if they don'tknow something of this business." For it was well known that theexiled Bolsheviks were vexed at the admission of monarchist Russia tothe League, and might take almost any means (Russians, whether Whiteor Red, being like th
at) of showing it.
"An enemy hath done this thing," murmured the gentle voice of Dr.Silvio Franchi to Lord John Lester, who had walked impatiently out ofthe Assembly Hall when the voting began, because he did not believethat a committee was going to be of the least use in finding hisfriends. He turned courteously towards the ex-cardinal, whom hegreatly liked.
"What discord, where all was harmony and brotherhood!" continued Dr.Franchi sadly.
"Not quite all. Never quite all, even before," corrected Lord John,who, though an idealist, faced facts. "There were always elements of... But we were on the way; we were progressing. And now--this."
He waved his hand impatiently at the vociferous Slavs, and then at thedoor of the Assembly Hall. "All at one another's throats; all hurlingaccusations; all getting telegrams from home about each other; allplaying the fool. And there are some people who say there is no needfor a League of Nations in such a world!"
23
Impatiently Lord John Lester pushed his way through the chatteringcrowds in the lobby, and out into the street. He wanted to breathe,and to get away from the people who regarded the recent disastersmainly as an excitement, a news story, or a justification for theirinternational distastes. To him they were pure horror and grief. Theywere his friends who had disappeared; it was his League which wasthreatened.
Moodily he walked along the paths of the Jardin Anglais; broodingly heseated himself upon a bench and stared frowning at the _jet d'eau_,and suspected, against his will, the Spanish and Portuguese Americans.
A large lady in purple, walking on high-heeled shoes as on stilts, andpanting a little from the effort, stopped opposite him.
"Such a favour!" she murmured. "I told my husband it was too much toask. But no, he would have it. He made me come and speak to you. I'veleft him over there by the fountain." She creaked and sat down on thebench, and Lord John, who had risen as she addressed him, sat downtoo, wondering how most quickly to get away.
"The Union," said the lady; and at that word Lord John bent towardsher more attentively. "Lakeside branches. We're starting them, myhusband and I, in all the lake villages. So important; so necessary.These villages are terribly behind the times. They simply _live_in the past. And what a past! Picturesque if you will--but notprogressive--oh, no! So some of us have decided that there _must_ bea branch of the Union in every lake village. We have brought a littleband of organisers over to Geneva to-day, to attend the Assembly.But the Assembly is occupied this morning in electing committees.Necessary, of course; but no mention of the broader principles onwhich the League rests can be made until the voting is over. So we arehaving a little business meeting in an office off the Rue Croix d'Or.And when my husband and I caught sight of you he said to me, 'If onlywe could get Lord John to come right away now and address a few wordsto our little gathering--oh, but really quite a few--its dead boneswould live!' Now, do I ask too much, Lord John?"
"My dear lady," said Lord John, "I'm really sorry, but I simplyhaven't the time, I wish you all the luck in the world, but----"
The purple lady profoundly sighed.
"I _told_ my husband so. It was too much to ask. He's a colonel, youknow--an Anglo-Indian--and always goes straight for what he wants,never hesitating. He _would_ make me ask you; ... but at least we haveyour good wishes, Lord John, haven't we?"
"Indeed, yes."
"The motto of our little village branches," she added as she rose, "is_Si vis pacem, para bellum_. Or, in some villages, _Si vis bellum,para pacem_. Both so true, aren't they? Now which do you think is thebest?"
Lord John Lester looked down at her in silence, momentarily at a lossfor an answer.
"Really, my dear lady, ... I'm afraid I don't like either at all. Infact, neither in any way expresses the ideals or principles of theLeague."
She looked disappointed.
"Now, you _don't_ say so! But those are the lines we're founding ourbranches on. One has to be so careful, don't you think, or a branchmay get on the wrong lines, with all these peace cranks about. Andevery branch has its influence. They're ignorant in these lakevillages, but they do mean well, and they're only anxious to learn. Ifonly you would come and tell our little organising band how we _ought_to start them!"
Lord John, having taken the lady in, from her topmost purple feathersto her pin-like heels, decided that, in all probability, she had notgot a League mind. And she and the Anglo-Indian colonel (who probablyhad not got this type of mind either, for Anglo-Indian colonels soexceedingly often have another) were going to start branches of theLeague of Nations Union all up the lake, to be so many centres ofnoxious, watered-down, meaningless League velleity, of the type whichhe, Lord John, found peculiarly repugnant. Perhaps, after all, itmight be his duty to go and say a few wholesome words to the littleorganising band assembled in the office off the Rue Croix d'Or. Yes;it was obviously his duty, and not to be shirked. With a sigh helooked at his watch. It need not take him more than half an hour, alltold.
"Very well," he said. "If you would find a very few words of anyuse----"
She gave a joyful pant.
"You're _too_ good, Lord John! _How_ grateful we shall all be! Youshall tell us _all_ about how we ought to do it, and give us somereally _good_ mottoes!... I remember helping with branches of theNational Service League before the war, and they had such a nicemotto--'The path of duty is the way to safety.' ... _That_ would be agood Union motto, don't you think? Or '_Festina lente_'--for wemustn't be impatient, must we? Or, 'Hands across the sea!' For_nothing_ is so important as keeping our _entente_ with France intact,is it.... The people of this country will not stand any weakening... _you_ know.... My husband reads me that out of the paper atbreakfast.... There he is ... Frederick, isn't this good of LordJohn...."
24
Professor Arnold Inglis, that most gentle, high-minded and engaging ofscholars, who most unfittingly represented part of a wild, hot,uncultured, tropical continent on the League, strolled out after lunchbefore the meeting of Committee 9 to see the flowers and fruit in themarket-place. He was sad, because, like his fellow-delegate andfriend, Lord John Lester, he hated this sort of disturbance. Like LordJohn, he resented this violence which was assaulting the calm anduseful progress of the Assembly, and was torn with anxiety for thefate of the three delegates. He wished he had Lord John with him thisafternoon, that they might discuss the situation, but he had not seenhim since he had left the Assembly that morning, so characteristicallyimpatient at the prospect of the appointment of Committee 9.
Professor Inglis stood by a fruit-stall and looked down absently atthe lovely mass of brilliant fruit and vegetables that lay on it.
Presently he became aware that some one at his side was pouring fortha stream of not unbeautiful language in a low, frightened voice.Looking round, he saw a small, ugly, malaria-yellow woman, gazing athim with frightened black eyes and clasped hands, and talking rapidlyin a curious blend of ancient and modern Greek. What she appeared tobe saying was:--
"I am persecuted by Turks; I beg you to succour me!"
"But what," said Professor Inglis, also speaking in a blend, but withmore of the ancient tongue in it that had hers, for he was more athome in classical than in modern Greek, "can I do? Can you not appealto the police?"
"I dare not," she replied. "I am in a minority in my house; I am anunprotected serving-woman, and there are three Turks in the same housewho leave me no peace. Even now one of them is waiting for me with astick because I had a misfortune and broke his hookah."
"It is certainly," said the Professor, "a case for the police. If youdo not like to inform them, I will do so myself. Tell me where youlive."
"Just round the corner here, in a house in that passage," she said."Come with me and see for yourself, sir, if you doubt my word as to mysufferings."
Professor Inglis hesitated for a moment, not wishing to be drawn intocity brawls, but when she added, "I appealed to you, sir, because Ihave been told how you are always on the side of the unprotected, andalso love the Greeks," his h
eart melted in him, and he forgot that,though he did indeed love the ancient Greeks, he did not very muchcare for the moderns of that race (such, for example, as M. Lapoulis,the Greek delegate), and only remembered that here did indeed seem tobe a very Unprotected Minority (towards which persons his heart wasalways soft), and that the Minority was a woman, poor, ill-favoured,and malarial, talking a Greek more ancient than was customary with herrace, and persecuted by Turks, which nation Professor Inglis, in spiteof his League mind, could not induce himself to like. All these thingshe recollected as he stood hesitating by the fruit stall, and hereflected also that, until he had in some degree verified the woman'stale, he would not care to trouble the already much burdened policewith it; so, with a little sigh, he turned to the poor woman and toldher he would come with her to her house and see for himself, and wouldthen assist her to take steps to protect herself. She thanked himprofusely, and led the way to the passage which she had mentioned.
25
Chivalry, pity for the unprotected, love of the Greek tongue, dislikeof Turks--by all these quite creditable emotions was Professor Inglisbetrayed, as you may imagine, to his fate.
26
Henry Beechtree, when he left the Assembly Hall, had, for his part,fish to fry in the Secretariat, and thither he made his rapid way. Hehad arranged to meet Miss Doris Wembley, the secretary of CharlesWilbraham, that morning in her chief's room, and then to lunch withher.
Henry was getting to know Miss Wembley very well. It seemed to him asif he had always known her, as, indeed, he had. He knew the things shewould say before she said them. He knew which were the subjects shewould expand on, and which would land her, puzzled and uninterested,in inward non-comprehension and verbal assent. She was a nice girl, ajolly girl, an efficient girl, and a very pretty girl. She likedHenry, whom she thought amusing, shabby, and queer.