CHAPTER XI. A COMMISSION
Mr. Robert Blaine-Harvey, American Ambassador and PlenipotentiaryExtraordinary to England, was a man of great culture, surprisingpersonal gifts, and with a diplomatic instinct which amounted almost togenius. And yet there were times when he was puzzled. For at least halfan hour he had been sitting in his great library, looking across thePark, and trying to make up his mind on a very important matter. Itseemed to him that he was face to face with what amounted almost to acrisis in his career. His two years at the Court of St. James had beenpleasant and uneventful enough. The small questions which had presentedthemselves for adjustment between the two countries were, after all, ofno particular importance and were easily arranged. The days seemed tohave gone by for that over-strained sensitiveness which was continuallygiving rise to senseless bickerings, when every trilling breeze seemedto fan the smouldering fires of jealousy. The two great English-speakingnations appeared finally to have realized the absolute folly ofcontinual disputes between countries whose destiny and ideals were socompletely in accord and whose interests were, in the main, identical. Aperiod of absolute friendliness had ensued. And now there had come thislittle cloud. It was small enough at present, but Mr. Harvey was not theone to overlook its sinister possibilities. Two citizens of his countryhad been barbarously murdered within the space of a few hours, one inthe heart of the most thickly populated capital in the world, and therewas a certain significance attached to this fact which the Ambassadorhimself and those others at Washington perfectly well realized. Heglanced once more at the most recent letter on the top of this pileof correspondence and away again out into the Park. It was a difficultmatter, this. His friends at Washington did not cultivate the art ofobscurity in the words which they used, and it had been suggested tohim in black and white that the murder of these two men, under theparticular circumstances existing, was a matter concerning which heshould speak very plainly indeed to certain August personages. Mr.Harvey, who was a born diplomatist, understood the difficulties of sucha proceeding a good deal more than those who had propounded it.
There was a knock at the door, and a footman entered, ushering in avisitor.
"The young lady whom you were expecting, sir," he announced discreetly.
Mr. Harvey rose at once to his feet.
"My dear Penelope," he said, shaking hands with her, "this is charmingof you."
Penelope smiled.
"It seems quite like old times to feel myself at home here once more,"she declared.
Mr. Harvey did not pursue the subject. He was perfectly well awarethat Penelope, who had been his first wife's greatest friend, had neveraltogether forgiven him for his somewhat brief period of mourning. Hedrew an easy chair up to the side of his desk and placed a footstool forher.
"I should not have sent for you," he said, "but I am really and honestlyin a dilemma. Do you know that, apart from endless cables, Washingtonhas favored me with one hundred and forty pages of foolscap all aboutthe events of the week before last?"
Penelope shivered a little.
"Poor Dicky!" she murmured, looking away into the fire. "And to thinkthat it was I who sent him to his death!"
Mr. Harvey shook his head.
"No," he said, "I do not think that you need reproach yourself withthat. As a matter of fact, I think that I should have sent Dicky inany case. He is not so well known as the others, or rather he wasn'tassociated so closely with the Embassy, and he was constantly at theSavoy on his own account. If I had believed that there was any danger inthe enterprise," he continued, "I should still have sent him. He was asstrong as a young Hercules. The hand which twisted that noose around hisneck must have been the hand of a magician with fingers of steel."
Penelope shivered again. Her face showed signs of distress.
"I do not think," she said, "that I am a nervous person, but I cannotbear to think of it even now."
"Naturally," Mr. Harvey answered. "We were all fond of Dicky, and such athing has never happened, so far as I am aware, in any European country.My own private secretary murdered in broad daylight and with apparentimpunity!"
"Murdered--and robbed!" she whispered, looking up at him with a whiteface.
The frown on the Ambassador's forehead darkened.
"Not only that," he declared, "but the secrets of which he was robbedhave gone to the one country interested in the knowledge of them."
"You are sure of that?" she asked hoarsely.
"I am sure of it," Mr. Harvey answered.
Penelope drew a little breath between her teeth. Her thoughts flashedback to a recent dinner party. The Prince was once more at her side.Almost she could hear his voice--low, clear, and yet with that note ofinexpressible, convincing finality. She heard him speak of his countryreverently, almost prayerfully; of the sacrifices which true patriotismmust always demand. What had been in his mind, she wondered, at the backof his inscrutable eyes, gazing, even at that moment, past the banksof flowers, across the crowded room with all its splendor of light andcolor, through the walls,--whither! She brushed the thought away. It wasabsurd, incredible! She was allowing herself to be led away by her olddistrust of this man.
"I remarked just now," Mr. Harvey continued, "that such a thing hadnever happened, so far as I was aware, in any European country. My ownwords seem to suggest something to me. These methods are not European.They savor more of the East."
"I think you had better go on," she said quietly. "There is something inyour mind. I can see that. You have told me so much that you had bettertell me the rest."
"The contents of those despatches," Mr. Harvey continued, "intrustedin duplicate, as you have doubtless surmised, to Fynes and to Coulson,contained an assurance that the sending of our fleet to the Pacificwas in fact, as well as in appearance, an errand of peace. It was ademonstration, pure and simple. Behind it there may have lain, indeed,a masterful purpose, the determination of a great country to affirmher strenuous existence in a manner most likely to impress the nationsunused to seeing her in such a role. It became necessary, in view ofcertain suspicions, for me to be able to prove to the Government herethe absolutely pacific nature of our great enterprise. Those despatchescontained such proof. And now listen, Penelope. Before the murderof poor Dicky Vanderpole, we know for a fact that a great nation whochooses to consider herself our enemy in Eastern waters was strainingevery nerve to prepare for war. Today those preparations have slackened.A great loan has been withdrawn in Paris, an invitation cabled to ourfleet to visit Yokohama. These things have a plain reading."
"Plain, indeed," Penelope assented, and she spoke in a low tone becausethere was fear in her heart. "Why have you told me about them? Theythrow a new light upon everything,--an awful light!"
"I have known you," the Ambassador said quietly, "since you were a baby.Every member of your family has been a friend of mine. You come of asilent race. I know very well that you are a person of discretion. Thereare certain small ways in which a government can occasionally be servedby the help of some one outside its diplomatic service altogether, someone who could not possibly be connected with it. You know this verywell, Penelope, because you have already been of service to us on morethan one occasion."
"It was a long time ago," she murmured.
"Not so very long," he reminded her. "But for the first of thesetragedies, Fynes' despatches would have reached me through you. I amgoing to ask your help even once more."
In the somewhat cold spring sunlight which came streaming through thelarge window, Penelope seemed a little pallid, as though, indeed, thefatigue of the season, even in this its earlier stages, were leavingits mark upon her. There were violet rims under her eyes. A certainalertness seemed to have deserted her usually piquant face. She satlistening with the air of one half afraid, who has no hope of hearingpleasant things.
"It has been remarked," Mr. Harvey continued, "or rather I may say thatI myself have noticed, that you are on exceedingly friendly terms witha very distinguished nobleman who is at present visiting this c
ountry--Imean, of course, Prince Maiyo."
Her eyebrows were slowly elevated. Was that really the impression peoplehad! Her lips just moved.
"Well?" she asked.
"I have met Prince Maiyo myself," Mr. Harvey continued, "and I havefound him a charming representative of his race. I am not going to say aword against him. If he were an American, we should be proud of him. Ifhe belonged to any other country, we should accept him at once for whathe appears to be. Unfortunately, however, he belongs to a countrywhich we have some reason to mistrust. He belongs to a country in whosenational character we have not absolute confidence. For that reason, mydear Penelope, we mistrust Prince Maiyo."
"I do not know him so well as you seem to imagine," Penelope saidslowly. "We are not even friends, in the ordinary acceptation of theword. I am, to some extent, prejudiced against him. Yet I do not believethat he is capable of a dishonorable action."
"Nor do I," the Ambassador declared smoothly. "Yet in every country,almost in every man, the exact standard of dishonor varies. A man willlie for a woman's sake, and even in the law courts, certainly athis clubs and amongst his friends, it will be accounted to hisrighteousness. A patriot will lie and intrigue for his country's sake.Now I believe that to Prince Maiyo Japan stands far above the wholeworld of womankind. I believe that for her sake he would go to verygreat lengths indeed."
"Go on, please," Penelope murmured.
"The Prince is over here on some sort of an errand which it isn't ourbusiness to understand," Mr. Harvey said. "I have heard it rumoredthat it is a special mission entirely concerned with the renewal of thetreaty between England and Japan. However that may be, I have sat here,and I have thought, and I have come to this conclusion, ridiculousthough it may seem to you at first. I believe that somewhere behind thehand which killed and robbed Hamilton Fynes and poor Dicky stood thebenevolent shadow of our friend Prince Maiyo."
"You have no proof?" she asked breathlessly.
"No proof at all," the Ambassador admitted. "I am scarcely in a positionto search for any. The conclusion I have come to has been simply arrivedat through putting a few facts together and considering them in thelight of certain events. In the first place, we cannot doubt that thesecret of those despatches reached at once the very people whom weshould have preferred to remain in ignorance of them. Haven't I toldyou of the sudden cessation of the war alarm in Japan, when once shewas assured, by means which she could not mistrust, that it was not theintention of the American nation to make war upon her? The subtlety ofthose murders, and the knowledge by which they were inspired, must havecome from some one in an altogether unique position. You may be surethat no one connected with the Japanese Embassy here would be permittedfor one single second to take part in any such illegal act. They knowbetter than that, these wily Orientals. They will play the game fromGrosvenor Place right enough. But Prince Maiyo is here, and stands apartfrom any accredited institution, although he has the confidence ofhis Ambassador and can command the entire devotion of his own secretservice. I have not come to this conclusion hastily. I have thought itout, step by step, and in my own mind I am now absolutely convinced thatboth these murders were inspired by Prince Maiyo."
"Even if this were so," Penelope said, "what can I do? Why have you sentfor me? The Prince and I are not on especially friendly terms. It isonly just lately that we have been decently civil to one another."
The Ambassador looked at her with some surprise.
"My dear Penelope," he said, "I have seen you together the last three orfour evenings. The Prince looks at no one else while you are there. Hetalks to you, I know, more freely than to any other woman."
"It is by chance," Penelope protested. "I have tried to avoid him."
"Then I cannot congratulate you upon your success," Mr. Harvey saidgrimly.
"Things have changed a little between us, perhaps," Penelope said. "Whatis it that you really want?"
"I want to know this," the Ambassador said slowly. "I want to know howJapan became assured that America had no intention of going to war withher. In other words, I want to know whether those papers which werestolen from Fynes and poor Dicky found their way to the Japanese Embassyor into the hands of Prince Maiyo himself."
"Anything else?" she asked with a faint note of sarcasm in her tone.
"Yes," Mr. Harvey replied, "there is something else. I should like toknow what attitude Prince Maiyo takes towards the proposed renewal ofthe treaty between his country and Great Britain."
She shook her head.
"Even if we were friends," she said, "the very closest of friends, hewould never tell me. He is far too clever."
"Do not be too sure," Mr. Harvey said. "Sometimes a man, especially anOriental, who does not understand the significance of your sex in thesematters, can be drawn on to speak more freely to a woman than he wouldever dream of doing to his best friend. He would not tell you in as manywords, of course. On the other hand, he might show you what was in hismind."
"He is going back very shortly," Penelope remarked.
Mr. Harvey nodded.
"That is why I sent for you to come immediately. You will see himtonight at Devenham House."
"With all the rest of the world," she answered, "but a man is not likelyto talk confidentially under such conditions."
Mr. Harvey rose to his feet.
"It is only a chance, of course," he admitted, "but remember that youknow more than any other person in this country except myself. It wouldbe impossible for the Prince to give you credit for such knowledge. Acasual remark, a word, perhaps, may be sufficient."
Penelope held out her hand. The servant for whom the Ambassador had rungwas already in the room.
"I will try," she promised. "Ask Mrs. Harvey to excuse my going up tosee her this afternoon. I have another call to make, and I want to restbefore the function tonight."
The Ambassador bowed, and escorted her to the door.
"I have confidence in you, Penelope," he said. "You will try your best?"
"Oh, yes!" she answered with a queer little laugh, "I shall do that. ButI don't think that even you quite understand Prince Maiyo!"