‘I am quite willing to give you a statement that I sent the telegram. But I am not going to tell you anything more. You must know that I am an Anarchist.’
I waved my hand scornfully.
‘If I consent to your suppressing the truth, Professor Severinski, it does not follow that I am willing to listen to absurd fictions. Be good enough to write out and sign a circumstantial account of your own part in this clumsy plot, and I will undertake that you shall not pass to-night in prison.’
The Russian had the sense to do what he was told without further parley. I got from him more than I expected. He consented to put in writing that it was after his betrothal to Fraulein Zeiss that he had been solicited to make use of his connection with the Kaiser’s private telegraphist, and he stated the amount of the bribe, a very heavy one, paid him for his services in sending the Imperial congratulations to the President of the Transvaal. We became so friendly over the discussion that Severinski, who was bursting with vanity over his success, wanted me at last to let him tell me too much. I was obliged to order him to be silent.
‘If you tell me that you are an agent of a certain great Power, I must repeat what you say to the Kaiser. Then one of two things will happen. Either your Government will avow your action, in which case you will be hanged as a spy, or it will disavow you, in which case you will pass the rest of your life in prison as a criminal lunatic.’
This menace had all the effect which I could have desired, and I was satisfied that the Russian would now hold his tongue.
Bidding him a cordial farewell—for I confess the fellow’s audacity had inspired me with some admiration—I hastened back to the Palace, to lay the results of my investigations before Wilhelm II.
‘Your Majesty has been victimised by a secret agent whose employers are interested in bringing about a feeling of ill-will, if not an actual war, between Germany and Great Britain. The day before yesterday this agent, whose name is Severinski, and who is employed to teach Russian’—Wilhelm II. started—‘in the Berlin Military College, visited your private telegraphist in the room at the end of this corridor. He had previously contrived that the telegraphist should be called away during his visit, and he took advantage of this absence to send the message which has caused so much trouble.’
The Kaiser made no reply until he had finished reading the proofs I laid before him.
‘And you did not ask this Severinski by whom he was set on?’ demanded his Majesty, giving me a keen glance.