WHO SMOKED THE GREGORIDES BRAND
I left the presence of the Japanese Emperor deeply disheartened.
It is true I had myself foretold this failure, and that his Japanese majesty and his advisers had been good enough to compliment me in almost extravagant terms on the energy and resourcefulness I had shown in baffling the enemies of peace.
But I am unaccustomed to defeat, no matter what are the odds against me, and I felt that the first point in the game had been scored against by the formidable woman whose beauty and strangely composite character had fascinated me, even while I was countermining her.
For my work was not yet over. Indeed, it had but just begun.
I had not succeeded in averting war between the two great Powers of Asia. But I hoped to thwart the efforts which I feared would be made to extend the conflagration to Europe.
As soon as I had found myself once more on civilized ground, I had despatched a cable to my Paris office, announcing my whereabouts and asking for information.
The reader may be excused if he has forgotten a little episode which marked my stay in Petersburg. I had noticed something peculiar and at the same time familiar in the scent of the tobacco smoked by Petrovitch, the financial adventurer whose scheme to enrich himself and a corrupt clique of courtiers out of the spoils of Korea and China was the true cause of the war.
By a ruse I had secured one of the cigarettes, smoked by this dangerous plotter, and having ascertained that it bore the mark Gregorides, Crown Aa, had instructed my staff to ascertain the history of this particular make of cigarettes.
While I was resting in my hotel in Tokio, waiting for the reply to my cable, I was honored by a visit from no less a personage than Privy Councillor Katahashi, President of the Imperial Bank of Japan.
“I have come,” the Privy Councillor explained as soon as the door was closed, “to express the high sense of your ability and devotion which we all possess, and to ask if it is possible for Japan to secure your services.”
Deeply gratified by this proposal, I was obliged to explain that I was already retained in the interest of Russia.
“But what interest?” Mr. Katahashi persisted. “It is clear that you are not acting on behalf of that group which has just succeeded in its purpose of forcing a war.”
“That is so,” I admitted. “It is no breach of confidence—in fact, I serve my employers by assuring you that my efforts are directed toward peace.”
“In that case there can be no antagonism between us, surely. Is it not possible for you and me—I say nothing about our respective Governments—to co-operate for certain purposes?
“I know enough of the conditions which prevail in the Russian Court to feel pretty sure that it was not Nicholas II. who originally sought you out, and entrusted you with this mission,” the Japanese statesman added.
“At the close of the last war in this part of the world,” the Privy Councillor went on, “Japan was robbed of the fruit of her victories by an alliance of three Powers, Russia, Germany, and France. This time we know that England will support us against any such combination. Thanks to King Edward VII. we have nothing to fear. His diplomacy, moreover, has secured the powerful influence of France on the side of peace. Although nominally allied with the Czar, we know that the French Government is determined to limit the area of the war, and to take no part against us, except in one event.”
“You mean,” I put in, “in the event of an attack by England on Russia.”
“Exactly. And therefore we know that King Edward is making it his particular care that no cause of conflict shall arise.”
He paused, and glanced at me as though he considered that he had sufficiently indicated the source from which my instructions were received.
I contented myself with bowing.
“We know, also, that the most restless and ambitious of living monarchs has been bending his whole thoughts and schemes, ever since he ascended the throne, to one supreme end—the overthrow of the British Empire by a grand combination of all the other Powers of the world. If that monarch can force on a general strife in which England will be involved on the side of Japan, while practically every other European Power is leagued against her, M. Petrovitch and his timber concessions will have done their work.”
I drew a deep breath as I looked at the Japanese statesman with a questioning gaze.
As if in answer to my unspoken query, a waiter of the hotel knocked at the door in the same moment, and brought me the long-expected cable from my agent in Europe.
I tore it open and read:
Cigarettes Gregorides Crown Aa special brand manufactured to order of Marx, Berlin, tobacconist to German Emperor.
I looked up from reading the telegram to see the eyes of the Japanese Privy Councillor fixed upon me with the inscrutable, penetrating gaze of the Oriental.
“The message you have just received bears on the subject of our conversation, does it not?” he inquired, but in the tone of one who does not doubt what the answer will be.
With the caution which has become a habit with me, I read the cable through carefully for the second time, and then placed it on the fire, where it was instantly consumed.
The Japanese statesman smiled.
“You forget, I think, M. V——, that you have come here as the emissary of a sovereign with whom we are at war, and that, consequently, we cannot afford to respect your privacy.
“I have a copy in my pocket,” he went on urbanely. “You have felt some curiosity about a particular brand of cigarettes, and your friends have just informed you that they are those supplied to the German Emperor.”
I looked at Mr. Katahashi with new respect.
“Your secret service is well managed, sir,” I observed.
“Such a compliment from such a quarter is an ample reward for what little pains I may have taken.”
“Then it is you who are——?”
“The organizer of our secret service during the war?—I am.”
“But you are a banker?” I turned my eyes to the card by which Mr. Katahashi had announced his visit.
The Japanese gave another of his subtle smiles—those peculiar smiles of the Oriental which make the keenest-witted man of the West feel that he is little better than a blunderer.
“I came here prepared to take you into my confidence,” he said gravely. “I am well aware that it is the only safe course in dealing with the Bismarck of underground diplomacy.
“I am equally well aware,” the Privy Councillor added, “that a secret confided to Monsieur V—— is as safe as if it had been told in confidence to a priest of Buddha, for whom the penalty of betrayal is to be flayed alive.”