Those words told me all. The daring brain of Wilhelm II. had revived the idea which the great Napoleon embodied in his famous Milan Decrees. The whole of the Powers of the Continent were to be united in a Customs League against Great Britain.
Russia and Austria, I saw, had eagerly welcomed the proposal. Spain and Turkey, with the Balkan States, were also committed to it. So were Belgium and Holland, the first in revenge for British criticism of the Congo Free State, the second on account of the Boer War. Sweden and Denmark were evidently disinclined to the scheme, but unable to resist the pressure put upon them. Only three countries still held out firmly—France, Italy, and Portugal.
The opposition of France seemed to be due partly to the fact that Great Britain was her largest customer, and partly to dislike of any proposal coming from Germany. Italy and Portugal seemed to realise that their own fate was bound up with that of England, and to view with dread the prospect of weakening the British power.
I had just finished reading the spirited protest of little Portugal, contained in a private autograph letter from Dom Carlos to the German Emperor, when the room was suddenly flashed with the full glare of the electric light. I looked up and saw his Majesty standing before me, in full uniform, with his sword drawn in his hand.
I had reckoned without Wilhelm II. when I undertook my perilous enterprise. The colonel of the guard, it appeared, had reported that a detective had been admitted into the Palace by Finkelstein’s request. The Kaiser had thought little of the matter at first, but later on his curiosity had become too strong for him, and he had decided to find out for himself what was going on.
I confess that for the first and only time in my life I turned cold with fear, as the sudden apparition of the armed Emperor burst on my startled consciousness.
‘Arrest that man!’ he commanded, without giving me time to speak.
Two soldiers advanced from the corridor and pinioned me by the arms. Then the Kaiser himself stepped forward, seized the papers I had been studying, and thrust them into his breast.
‘Order a firing-party with ball cartridges to get ready in the inner courtyard,’ was the next command.
All this time it was evident that the Kaiser had not recognised me. Indeed, my disguise was so perfect that I felt quite secure on that head. The question was whether it would make matters worse or better for me if I revealed my identity.