“Well, it’s like this,” said the secret agent. “Suppose it became quite plain to Italy that Germany was aiding the Arabs in Tripoli to get up another serious insurrection against the Italian army——”
“But she’s not,” broke in Frank. “She has her hands too full elsewhere.”
“Who said she was?” demanded Hetherington. “But suppose old Francisco Dellaya, the great Italian diplomat, recognized as the foremost of all the diplomats in Europe, should come upon Abu ben Sedar, who has led more than one uprising against Italy, in Nalut, hobnobbing with a bearded man who presumably is in the Austrian or German army? Suppose he sees them about together once or twice? What do you suppose he’d think?”
“I see what you mean,” declared Frank. “But surely that would not be enough to satisfy him.”
“No; the plot goes deeper than that. But suppose, again, that he learned that Abu ben Sedar had been furnished with several thousand rifles of unmistakable German make, and that they had been delivered by a German vessel straight from Hamburg. Also a few machine guns. And suppose a hundred thousand freshly minted German and Austrian silver marks should be distributed to every hostile Arab in Tripoli? And suppose old Dellaya got wind of this? Do you see what I mean?”
Frank and Jack nodded affirmatively.
“This together with the fact that Dellaya had seen what he supposed was a German or Austrian officer pretty thick with Abu ben Sedar, would convince Dellaya that Germany and Austria were putting up some kind of a game on Italy,” continued the secret agent. “He would, without doubt, have the sheik followed, and we would see that he got plenty of evidence. Then would came a hurry call to his home government. And the next step would be that Italy, already only lukewarm toward the Triple Alliance, would withdraw its support, leaving Germany and Austria in the lurch. Do I make myself clear?”
“Perfectly,” replied Jack.
“But is the Italian diplomat in Tripoli?” asked Frank.
“No,” replied the secret agent, “but he will be day after to-morrow. Once a year he takes a cruise as the guest of Lord Hastings, apparently a wealthy English gentleman, but in reality a member of the British secret service. He has made many trips to Tripoli, and knows probably every Arab sheik within a hundred miles. All this was counted upon when we laid our plans. Oh, he will be there, all right, and he will see just what we have planned for him to see.”